The War at Home s01e21 Episode Script

The Runaways

DAVE: What's going on? Nothing.
Well, actually there is something.
It's about Mike, but I'm not allowed to say anything.
Yeah, sweetie, I know I say, "What's going on," but it's just an expression, you know.
Something to bridge the gap between "I'm home," and "Can I have a beer?" Apparently, Mike has himself a little girlfriend.
Really? Wow.
Not that I'm surprised.
You know, it runs in the family.
You know, like father, like son.
Hey, hey, hey, there he is.
What's going on, Studly.
Oh, my God.
Mom, you told him? You're like a parrot, you know, that you repeat everything.
( squawking like parrot ): Mike has a girlfriend, Mike has a girlfriend.
Hey, for your information, your mother didn't say anything.
So, is she hot? Dave, she's 13.
Right, right.
So, is she hot? Hey, you know, there's something very special about having your first girlfriend.
Dad, I don't know what you heard, but she's not my girlfriend.
We just made out once on a dare.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Excuse me? Oh, never mind.
You were saying? Hey, Dad, I'm going to need your credit card to charge those tickets.
Yeah, sure.
Here you go.
Yeah, I don't think so.
But you guys said I could go.
Yeah, and you said you'd get the patio cushions out in the garage, clean them off and put them on the outdoor furniture.
I'll do it after dinner, okay? Too late.
I already did it, because I got tired of asking you to.
So because of just one little thing I can't go to the Ice Capades? Uh-uh-uh.
I mean the hockey game.
That's right.
Oh, she's such an idiot! Hey, don't talk about your mother like that.
She's right here.
I'm talking about my friend Chelsea.
She's ruining my life.
Which one is Chelsea? You remember that skinny blonde who came to Hillary's birthday dinner last year? And she ordered the Surf and Turf.
Oh, oh, the anorexic one? She surfed that meal down her throat and turfed it up right in the ladies' room.
Why couldn't she just order a side of rice? Oh, I hate her.
Yeah, well, now she hates me and we're not friends anymore and she's spreading these horrible rumors about me to everyone.
Oh, don't worry about it, sweetie.
It's high school.
Everybody says bad things about everyone.
She called me a slut.
Oh, no, she didn't.
Oh, yes, she did.
Oh, no, she did not.
Oh, yes, she did.
You're not, are you? Of course not.
She's got a lot of nerve.
No one's going to trash talk my little girl.
Especially not that skank-arella.
What are you talking about, Dad? You say bad things about Hillary all the time.
That's not trashing, that's called parenting.
I got news for you-- if that Chelsea thinks she's going to come over to my house, chew up my food, then spit it out, and stab my little girl in the back, she's got another thing coming, huh.
Oh, yeah, she's got another thing coming.
Oh, my God.
What? I think you actually made me feel better.
Thanks, Daddy.
The last time she smiled at me like that I was burping her.
Good morning, Mom.
You look beautiful today.
Have you lost weight? Oh, thank you.
You're still not going.
But it's Lord of the Rings on ice.
When am I going to get another chance to see Brian Boitano as Bilbo Baggins? I don't know.
But I do know you'll get another chance to clean the patio cushions next year.
So I suggest you do it when I tell you to.
I'm sick of you telling me what I can and cannot do.
Why do you get to decide everything? Because I'm the mother.
when you become a parent you can make your children's lives miserable, but right now, it's my turn.
And by the way I lied about you losing weight.
What are you still arguing with him for? Just give him the stupid tickets.
He's the good kid.
Yeah? Not lately he's not.
He doesn't do anything I tell him to.
His stuff is all over the house.
He won't pick up his dirty laundry.
There's dirty dishes in his room.
We're not supposed to do those things anymore? Dave, it's not funny.
If I cave now, Larry will think he can walk all over me and I need you to support me on this.
Fine, fine.
I'm just going to have to deal with the fact that he's not going to get to see Byron Boytoonie and Bimbo Baggies.
Well, you've left me no choice.
I am running away.
Okay, bye.
No, I'm serious.
I'm going.
Yeah? Oh, I'm serious.
I don't care.
Oh, no.
She's calling my bluff.
I can't really run away.
My luggage is empty.
Okay, here I go.
I'm officially a teen runaway now.
I don't know what the future holds.
For all I know, I could wind up dead in the streets and it'll all be your fault.
And the award for "The Most Over-The-Top Dramatic Performance by a Teenager" goes to BOTH: Larry Gold.
Yay! Good-bye, Mom.
Good-bye, Dad.
The next time you see this face, it'll probably be on a milk carton.
You know, technically, they only put you on milk cartons if someone's actually looking for you.
Cync by xxy Cync by xxy Cync by xxy Mike! Whoa! Geez, Dad, can you knock? Yeah, sorry.
I forgot there was a reason to knock now.
You know, besides the old reason.
Not that I ever walked in on him when he was How are you? Nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
I'm Heidi.
I'm Mr.
Gold, the father-- you know, of your new boyfriend.
Now you know where he gets his cutes from.
Oh, relax.
What do you think, that I'm going to embarrass you in front of your new girlfriend? So Are you two in love? Oh, you know I'm kidding.
I'll see you kids later.
Oh, wait, you know, I'm not sure you're allowed to have girls in your room alone.
Why not? I know I'm not allowed to have them in mine.
But I'm going to go with okay.
Although, I don't know-- I think I'm going to have to consult your mother about this.
That's okay.
I've got to go anyway.
Meet me at my locker Monday morning first thing, so everybody knows your my boyfriend.
And don't forget, you have my sister's piano recital after school.
Wear a nice shirt.
Not a T-shirt.
The blue one that I like.
me later so we can go over all of this again.
Now, come and walk me to my bike.
Bye, Mr.
It was so nice meeting you.
Nice to meet you, too, sweetie.
Oh, my God, poor Mike.
They just dropped and she's already bustin' them.
( phone ringing ) Hello.
Hello, Mom.
It's me.
I just want to let you know that I'm on a bus heading south.
Right now we're going through New Jersey and we should be in Washington DC soon.
What do you think about that?! Washington? I think you should stop by the White House.
I understand there's someone who lives there who also doesn't keep their promises.
Is that Larry? He's pretending to be on a bus going to DC.
Yeah, right.
like he didn't run away next door to Kenny's house like he always does.
Well, what if I told you there's a very scary man sitting next to me, rubbing his leg against mine? Well, maybe if you're really nice to him he'll buy you dinner.
Sweetie, I got to tell you, you're being very petty and immature about this whole thing.
Hey, listen, if I give in No, you didn't let me finish.
So That's Heidi, huh? Yep.
She's sweet.
Really sweet.
And nice.
A very nice girl.
Really nice.
Can't say enough about her.
A little bossy though, wouldn't you say? What do you mean? You know, the way she tells you what to do and when to do it and how you should be doing it when you're doing it.
Look, Dad, Heidi lets me French-kiss her, okay? And she doesn't have braces.
As far as eighth grade girlfriends go, that's pretty much as good as it gets.
Yeah? Let me tell you something.
Right now, buddy, your ( kissing sounds ) lip-whipped, okay? If you're not careful, it just goes south from there, if you know what I mean, Slim Jim.
You don't want to spend the rest of your life being bossed around by some girl.
What, you mean like you? Ugh.
Oh, hey.
So, did you meet Mike's girlfriend? Isn't she terrific? She's so cute.
And I just love her personality.
Yeah, you would.
Aren't they adorable together? Yeah, you guys should get together and take turns ordering people around.
What, hon? Nothing.
Hey, hon, I need you to do me a favor.
Can you take Hillary to the dentist on Monday? Okay.
Oh, and on your way can you drop off the dry cleaning? Yeah, sure.
Oh, and I called in a refill of my birth control prescription.
You must must stop by the pharmacy and pick it up if you ever want to have sex with me again.
On the other hand-- if you don't get your hair cut soon, you can forget about the birth control pills, because you're starting to look like Grizzly Adamstein.
Would you stop it? Please.
Stop bossing me around.
Excuse me? You always tell me what to do.
I can't let Larry have Ice Capades tickets.
I can't tell Mike he can have girls in his room.
I can't even decide when I should get my hair cut, and yes, I realize it's a little bushy, but my hairdresser, Mr.
Tony, he's in Barbados, and he's the only one I trust.
What are you talking about? And another thing.
You know, the only reason why you like that Heidi girl is because she's just like you.
She's a little controlling, bossy ballabusta.
Is that really what you think of me? Oh, it's not just me.
Everyone thinks that.
If you don't believe me, go ask Larry.
Oh, wait.
You can't.
He ran away from you.
Well, you know what? I have no idea where this is coming from, but can I just say something, honey? Yeah.
Go screw yourself.
You see that? Hey.
How's it going? Not so great.
It's that Chelsea, isn't it? What did that skankaroo do now? Her parents, they're out of town, She's having this huge party tonight inviting everyone-- except me.
Oh That is so wrong.
Well, the only reason why she's throwing this party is to make you feel bad.
I know, right? Why is she doing this to me? Why? Sweetie, take a look in the mirror.
Okay, you're gorgeous and have a perfect figure.
But her? She weighs about 32 pounds and has a tush like a bag of oranges.
I know, right? Well, she cannot do this to us.
Okay, we're gonna get back at her.
I know, right? You know what? We should spread a rumor about her.
You know what? We should tell everyone she has crabs.
In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she does have crabs, in which case, it wouldn't be so much a rumor as it would be a public service announcement.
Oh, thanks, Daddy.
You're the best.
I know, right? Hello? I'm in Virginia.
Yeah, sure you are.
I am.
Well, while you're there, could you do me a favor? Stop calling.
I just wanted to let you know that I'm buying fireworks at the next stop.
They're legal here.
and I don't know how to use them, so I'll probably wind up blowing my own hands off.
Well, make sure you keep at least one thumb, because if you run out of money, you may need to hitchhike.
Are you done with that? I'd like to make a phone call, assuming that's okay with you.
Sure, go ahead.
But when you're done, could you do me a favor? Yeah.
Shove it up your ( bleep ).
Well, if I do, it's not going to be because you told me to.
By the way, what's the number for the police department? Why? I don't owe you an explanation, but for your information, I'm calling to report a noisy party with no parental supervision and teenage drinking that's taking place at Chelsea's house later on tonight.
Why would you do that? Because I'm going to get even with that girl for what she did to Hillary.
She's going to be sorry she screwed with me, baby.
Dave, these are teenage girls.
This is what they do.
This happens every week.
For all we know, Hillary probably had it coming.
You know what? It seems like you're on Chelsea's side.
Well, let me tell you something.
We don't need you, you Chelsea-lover.
And when Hillary finds out what I did, I'm going to be her dad and her BFF.
That's right.
"Best Friend Forever.
" Huh.
All alone on a Saturday night, huh? Yeah.
So you took my advice and kicked that Heidi chick to the curb and broke her little heart, right? Ha-ha-ha-ha.
I didn't break up with Heidi.
She's baby-sitting.
I like a woman who's an earner.
So, uh, y-you listen to anything I said before? Look, dad, no offense.
Um, I pretty much don't listen to anything you say ever.
I mean, I listen for key words, like "Dinner's ready" or "allowance" or "Fire!" but, you know-- the rest is just background noise.
All right, let's see.
I have one son that ignores everything I say.
The other one ran away.
I have a wife that thinks I'm a jackass who needs a haircut.
Well, at least I have beer in the fridge and a daughter that thinks I'm a hero.
How could you call the cops on Chelsea's party?! How did you find out about that? I was at that party.
But she hates you and didn't invite you and you like me now.
Yeah, well She invited me, we made up, and I hate you now.
Okay, so, so, what's the big deal? The party got shut down a little early.
At least you guys are friends, right, so everything's fine.
No, it's not fine.
Everybody knows that my father's the narc that ruined the best party of the year, and now everybody hates me.
You ruined my life! All right Oh, oh, I know.
I know how to fix this.
Listen, We'll say it was Brenda's dad who called the cops, pretending to be me.
Okay, but tell Marcy first, but tell her it's a secret.
That way, she'll blab to everybody, and she'll be the loser and we'll be cool.
Ha-ha, Brenda.
You're dumb.
What is wrong with you?.
You know, why don't you just get your own life and stay out of mine? Oh, and by the way, Chelsea said she is totally getting you back for this.
I'm back.
I hope you're happy.
No, Larry, it doesn't make me happy that my son ran away from home.
From now on I'll just do whatever you want, however you want, whenever you want.
My spirit has been broken.
If it's okay with you, I'm just going to go upstairs and cry myself to sleep.
There you are.
Hey, hey.
What's the matter? Are you upset because of all those mean things I said to you? No.
I'm crying because they're all true.
I am a controlling, fascist dictating ballabusta.
Aw, come on.
No, you're not.
Yes, I am.
No you're not.
Yes, I am! All right, take it easy.
I destroyed my son.
I sent him 400 miles away.
I didn't know where he was or what he was doing.
And why did I do that? For what? Patio cushions? I don't even like that outdoor furniture.
Come on, sweetie.
Larry was pretty much damaged goods before the whole running away thing, right? Please.
Please, sweetie, stop crying okay? You were just trying to discipline him.
All right? Don't blame yourself, okay? All right.
You're right.
You're right.
It's not my fault.
It's their fault.
Those two and the girl.
They did this to me.
You know, nothing gets done unless I yell and scream at them.
An-an-and then I still wind up doing it myself and then they hate me for yelling and screaming.
I can't stand the person they've turned me into.
Why do we even bother? They don't appreciate us, let alone listen to us.
All they do is roll their eyes and try to figure out how to get around us.
I know, right? Totally.
They're all we think about.
They're all we talk about.
It's ridiculous.
I don't even have dreams about myself anymore.
You know, I used to have nightmares that I was falling and now it's the three of them falling and I'm off to the side watching.
Sometimes I'm cheering.
Other times I'm pushing.
All right, the point is, is I'm not even the star of my own dreams anymore.
Remember when it was just us, babe? Laughing and drinking and partying all night long? I know.
Having sex whenever and wherever we wanted.
And then like idiots, we thought, "Hey, you know what would make this even better? Children.
" Yeah.
That was dumb.
They sucked the life right out of us.
You especially.
But me, too.
Maybe Larry was right.
Maybe we should just run away.
That would be so good.
You know, why don't we do it? Why don't we just go? What? Come on.
You know what? I'm serious.
Why don't we just get in the car and, like, go to a hotel or something? You're right.
I'm serious.
Let's go.
Let's go! What are we waiting for? Nothing.
We're going.
Come on.
Who needs 'em? I know exactly where we should go.
Hey, wait a minute.
You did take your pill, right? 'Cause I don't want the night we ran away from the kids to be the night we wound up making another one.
We're good to go.
All right.
That's right, kids.
Momma's having a cig.
And Daddy's drinking.
And we've been having sex.
And next we're gonna have it out on the balcony.
No, we're not.
It was worth a shot.
I wonder why the kids haven't called yet.
I mean, they must have figured out by now that we left.
Who cares? Forget about them.
Tonight's our night, okay.
Tonight, we don't have kids.
That's right.
And I don't have stretch marks.
And we don't live in Long Island.
We live in the Village.
And every morning we have cappuccino's at the neighborhood cafe, where all the writers and artists and Gwyneth Paltrow go.
And we're able to read through the entire New York Times without anyone stopping us to say, "I hate you.
" Except for Gwyneth Paltrow, because she has a kid and it sucks and she wishes she was us.
* Apple's a pain in the ass.
* Ha-ha.
And the only people who ask us for money are bums and we can afford to give it to them because we have no kids.
Kids suck.
You want to go home? Yeah, I'm ready.
Hey, let's have sex on the balcony first.
??? Hey, guys.
Where the hell have you been? Out.
Where? You just take off without telling us or leaving a note? We were about to call the police.
Yeah, we didn't know if you were kidnapped or if you were dead.
At least when I run away, I call every five minutes.
Well, if you were so worried, why didn't you just call us? We did call, like a hundred times and it went straight to voice mail.
Look at that.
It was off.
All right, it's late.
Come on, let's get to bed.
Have you been smoking? Uh Un-believable.
What is wrong with you two? Not cool.
You know, technically, that hotel room is ours till tomorrow at noon.
Let's go.