All language subtitles for Brady Bunch S02E24 (Tell It Like It Is).eng

♪ Here's the story ♪

♪ Of a lovely lady ♪

♪ Who was bringing up ♪

♪ Three very lovely girls ♪

♪ All of them had hair of gold ♪

♪ Like their mother ♪

♪ The youngest one in curls ♪

♪ It's the story of a
man named Brady ♪

♪ Who was busy with
three boys of his own ♪

♪ They were four
men living all together ♪

♪ Yet they were all alone ♪

♪ Till the one day when ♪

♪ The lady met this fellow ♪

♪ And they knew that it was
much more than a hunch ♪

♪ That this group ♪

♪ Must somehow form a family ♪

♪ That's the way we all
became the Brady Bunch ♪

♪ The Brady Bunch ♪

♪ The Brady Bunch ♪

♪ That's the way we
became the Brady Bunch. ♪

Carol?

Carol?

Carol?

Oh, Mike, you frightened me.

I frightened you?

Honey, I looked
all over the place...

Except the doghouse... for you.

Well, I'm sorry, honey,
I just couldn't sleep.

It's kind of hard to do

sitting under a bright
light writing something.

What's that?

What is what?

What you're writing there.

Oh, it's just... something.

Honey, it's a quarter
to 2:00 in the morning.

What could you
possibly be writing?

Well, I, uh... I just don't
feel like talking about it.

Not now.

Well, if that's
the way you feel.

Is that the way you feel?

Yeah, that's the way I feel.

I-I don't mean to
sound mysterious, but...

Well, that's okay.

You gonna come to bed?

All right, darling.

But I warn you...

Even in my sleep, I won't talk.

Morning, Alice.

How come you're up
so early, Mr. Brady?

I woke up during the night

and never really
got back to sleep.

I thought I heard you prowling
around downstairs around 2:00.

You interrupted a
perfectly lovely dream.

I was about to be
crowned Miss America.

Well, sorry about that.

Oh, well, easy come, easy go.

I was looking for Mrs. Brady.

Mrs. Brady?

Yeah. Finally found her
curled up in a chair in my den

writing something.

Wouldn't tell me what it was.

That's funny.

Funny?

I found Mrs. Brady

curled up on a couch
in the family room

just night before last,
writing something, too.

Oh, yeah? What?

I don't know.

She didn't tell me.

What do you suppose she's up to?

Maybe she's keeping a diary.

No, she wouldn't
keep that a secret...

Not from me, anyway.

I don't think.

Alice, what do people write
when the rest of the world's asleep

and they don't want to
be caught or discovered?

Something they don't want
anybody to know about.

Oh, Alice, you have a
keen, analytical mind.

Hi, girls.

Hi, Alice. Hi, Dad. Hi.

How are you doing?
Hi, Dad. Where's Mom?

She's gonna skip breakfast.

To do her hair.

She's going on a
date or something.

A what?

An early luncheon
appointment, she said.

JAN: She's getting real fancy.

She's under the dryer now.

Good. That'll keep her in
one place while I talk to her.

( dryer roaring)

( whistling)

Oh, Mike, I thought you left.

No, I haven't. The girls told me

you were going
to skip breakfast.

Oh, thanks just the same.

I thought I'd skip breakfast.

No, they told me you were
gonna get gussied up for a date.

The date?

Oh, I think it's the 14th.

Honey, I'm in a terrible hurry.

I don't have much
time and... Oh, sorry.

I understand you have
an appointment in town?

Lunch.

With Ellie?

No.

It's a secret.

Oh.

It's all part of
the same secret.

I suppose you still
don't want to talk about it.

No, I'd rather
not talk about it.

So if you don't mind, honey.

( dryer roaring)

I do mind.

Listen, I hardly got
any sleep last night.

I'm going to be burning
up with curiosity all day.

Oh, thanks, honey.

I hope you have a
nice day, too. Bye.

Eggs Benedict and iced
tea for both of us, please.

Do you think it's silly

of me to try this,
Mr. Delafield?

I mean, after all, I
am a rank amateur.

I've never written anything
before except letters.

( chuckles)

Well, until you put it
down on paper, Mrs. Brady,

you'll never really know.

Mike, what are you doing here?

I happened to be lunching
over there with a client.

Uh, well, Mike, you
remember Mr. Delafield.

This is my husband, Mike Brady.

Of course. We met
a week or so ago

at a party given
by the Campbells.

We did?

Yes, casually.

Why don't you join us?

Thank you.

I'm, uh, the editor of
Tomorrow's Woman magazine.

Oh, yes.

I'm sorry, I didn't remember.

That's perfectly all right.

I spent most of the evening

with Mrs. Brady.

( chuckling)

Well, you must be
very proud of her.

Hmm? Oh, proud. Yes.

Yes, of course, I am.

This big jump she's taking

into the world of journalism.

You know, we feel

that a magazine such
as ours is an ideal market

for the story that Mrs. Brady
is writing about your family.

Story?

Story?

For Tomorrow's Woman magazine?

About us?

That's right, kids.

That's the most exciting
thing I've ever heard.

Everyone reads Tomorrow's Woman.

Even me.

I think it's neat.

Even if it's only a
woman's magazine.

Tomorrow's Woman happens
to be a very fine magazine.

Yeah, and besides,
what other magazine

will want a story about
a woman with three girls

marrying a man with three boys?

Not Popular Mechanics.

Anyway, it's exciting, isn't it?

Yeah. We've never
been a story before.

I'm sure you'll be
comfortable here, honey.

But this has always
been your den, dear.

Listen, I am the
proudest husband in town,

and you can have this
whole den to yourself

until you finish that article.

Now, try the chair.

For what?

Sitting purposes! See if
you, it and that typewriter

are in full accord here.

Okay. Well, it seems just fine.

My goodness, I can't think
of anything else I need.

Well, two things.

First, privacy,
which you'll have

as soon as I leave here.

And second... the first piece
of paper to write on. There.

Oh... What's the matter?

It sure looks blank.

You boys are supposed
to empty the wastebaskets,

not read what's in them.

We're just average curious kids.

No one is going
to read this article

until I'm finished.

Okay, but we're running
out of places to dump these.

Maybe you could
scrunch 'em up tighter.

Go on.

Look out, look out.

Clear the road.

Hi, honey.

Hi. How's it going?

Well... just great.

For the paper drive.

"Never forget the first time..."

Uh-uh-uh-uh.

Not until it's finished.

You know, Mike,

everybody's been so
great through all this,

especially the kids.

They have been absolute angels.

Yeah, I think they're
practicing to be famous angels.

Thank you, love.

I'm Marcia Brady,

the oldest of the
three Brady daughters.

If you read mother's
article carefully,

you must know I
begin on page three.

How does it feel
to have a mother

as talented and
successful as ours?

Well, it feels lovely, my dear.

Just lovely.

In the article, I'm called Cindy

but my real name is Cynthia.

It's so nice to have
met you, darling.

( all giggling)

A necktie?

Well, sure, Pete.

When you're famous,
you can't look like a slob.

Does that mean you have
to wear clean socks, too?

There.

Now, how do I look?

Like a slob with a tie.

Alice, this is the third time

you've dusted this desk.

Say no more, Mrs. Brady.

I-I was just wondering
if I was in the article.

Well, of course you are, Alice.

You're one of the family.

As a matter of fact, you're
here at a very special time.

I am?

Yeah, watch.

Just two more words.

The... End.

Ah!

Well, Tomorrow's
Woman, here you come.

Congratulations, Mrs. Brady.

What's the article
going to be called?

Well, I haven't decided yet.

I have to discuss
that with Mr. Delafield.

As a matter of fact, I'm taking
this down there right now.

He promised me an
answer within a week.

Mike, Mr. Delafield said a week

and it's been a week.

Don't you think I
ought to call him?

No, honey. In business,
a week means, oh...

ten days or two weeks.

Don't worry, he'll call.

Yes, but I gave my
number to his secretary

and maybe she lost it.

Oh, honey. Relax.

( doorbell ringing)

Mike. Do you think that's him?

Oh, Carol.

Or maybe it's a special
delivery messenger

with a letter of acceptance,
or it could be a check or...

Or maybe it's...

I know a great way to find out.

Open the door.

Oh, no. Oh, Mike.
Oh, I couldn't.

I mean, I-I'd just go to pieces.

( doorbell ringing)

Okay.

I won't even look or listen.

Oh, it's probably a
salesman anyway.

Hey, honey, you were right.

Special delivery,
Tomorrow's Woman.

Oh, my goodness,
it's awfully big, isn't it,

for a letter or... for a check?

Maybe it's a big check.

It's my story.

They sent it back.

Well, sometimes
they ask for changes.

Oh. Well, there's
a letter with it, too.

"Dear Mrs. Brady:

"You have certainly accomplished

an Herculean task."

I guess it was pretty big.

"And I thank you for letting me

read your manuscript."

Isn't that nice?

He thanks me.

"But, as I pointed out
at our first meeting,

it was strictly a
speculative venture."

That's right, he
did. I remember.

"And, unfortunately,
I feel the story

"doesn't fit our needs
at the present time.

So I'm herewith
returning it with..."

et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Mike, I've been rejected.

Flatly rejected.

Oh, honey.

Only by Tomorrow's Woman,
not by tonight's husband.

The explanation is really
quite simple, Mr. Brady.

The story your wife wrote

tells it like it is. That's all.

Well, what's wrong with that?

You can't mix a second
marriage, six kids,

a housekeeper and a dog

and come up with
Romeo and Juliet.

I realize that.

But Tomorrow's Woman magazine

likes to accentuate
the positive...

the pleasant side of things.

You mean...
not tell it like it is.

Mr. Brady, today's
world is grim enough.

Tomorrow's Woman...

Well, we're looking for...

for happy angles
in life stories.

Not exactly rose-colored
glasses, but...

Yeah, I see. I see.

Well, what if we let Mrs.
Brady make another try?

Accentuating the
positive, as you say.

I'd be more than happy

to read any revised
version she'd care to submit.

But, Mike, you
couldn't. You didn't.

Yeah, I could and I did.

After the way I was rejected?
Knowing how I'd feel?

Honey, you weren't
treated any differently

than any other writer who's
received a rejection slip,

and the way you feel

is sorry for
yourself, that's all.

Sorry for myself?!

Yeah. Listen, Delafield says

that you placed
too much emphasis

on the problems in our lives

instead of the lighter,
happier times we've had.

If you rewrite it,

he says he'll be more
than pleased to read it.

Oh, no, Mike Brady.

I've had it.

Filled wastebaskets,
rejection slips, blank pages.

I'm not going near
that typewriter again.

The End. Again.

That must be a big relief.

Oh, it is, Alice.

Only this time, Mr. Delafield
isn't getting first look at it.

I want several of my most
severe critics to read it first.

Well, all right.

You've all had a
chance to read it.

What do you think?

And don't mince words.

Come on, let me
have it... The truth.

Alice.

Well, I really had
something else on my mind

when I read it, Mrs. Brady.

I was expecting Sam, you know.

Alice, are you trying to tell me

that my story wasn't
interesting enough

to hold your attention?

Oh, I didn't say that.

I didn't say that at all.

Did I?

Greg, what was your reaction?

No holds barred, now.

The typing was great, Mom.

The typing?

I'm big on westerns
and whodunits.

I don't know much
about stories like yours.

Nobody got shot
or killed or anything.

Marcia?

Well, it's all so sweet
and goody-goody.

We're always helping each other

and happy and smiling.

What about times

like when the washing
machine overflowed

and we all had a big fight?

Well, I had to change
that. Magazine policy.

Was that your only reaction?

No. I guess you
did a pretty good job

considering what you
had to work with... us.

Mike?

( sighs)

Honey, a husband can't
testify against his wife.

Well, you gave Delafield
what he asked for.

I'm going to take it
down to him myself.

( laughing)

Excuse me, Mrs. Brady

but what are you made
up for, Halloween?

Oh, I just thought I'd
clean out the fireplace.

Help me take my mind
off of... well, you know.

Well, you only sent the story
to the magazine yesterday.

You couldn't expect to hear yet.

I don't expect to hear, period.

( phone rings)

Hello.

Yes, this is Mrs.
Brady speaking.

Who's calling?

Mr. Delafield?

I just put your manuscript
down, Mrs. Brady.

I could hardly wait to call you.

Oh, well, that's very
nice of you, Mr. Delafield.

Your rewrites are
exactly what we want.

What did he say? Is it good?

We'd like to schedule it
for publication next month.

And, of course, you
should be introduced

to our promotion
department at once.

At once?

Oh, as soon as possible.

And would a small tea at
your house be convenient?

We'd like to have
our photographer take

some candid pictures
of your family at home

and meet a few of the local

critics informally.

The suspense is killing me.

I think the suspen...

Yes, I think that can be
arranged, Mr. Delafield.

Splendid.

Shall we say, uh, Friday?

Oh, Friday's fine.

Excellent.

Let's say, uh, 3:00 or 4:00?

Oh, it doesn't matter to me.

Three or four, four or three.

Three, four, four, three, what?

Shh!

All right, let's make it 3:00.

Uh, uh... Three,
four, four, three, what?

Shh!

( stammers): Uh, that'll
be just fine, Mr. Delafield.

And thank you.
Yeah... Thank you.

( chuckles)

Wonderful.

Good-bye, Mrs. Brady.

Well, what did he say?

Let's see... finger
sandwiches pastries

tea and coffee for the adults

and maybe a bowl
of punch for the kids.

( frustrated sob)

Oh, I'm sorry, Alice.

Mr. Delafield liked my story.

He's going to buy it.

Oh, Mrs. Brady!

Congratulations.

And we're going
to start with a tea

on Friday at 4:00.

( doorbell rings)

Mr. Delafield!

We did say 3:00,
didn't we, Mrs. Brady?

No.

I mean, uh, yes.

Yes, indeed. Yes. Uh...

We said 3:00. Of course.

I guess.

Come in.

Thank you.

This is Danny Englebert,

one of our very
best photographers.

Hi.

And my Editorial
Assistant, Daisy Lewis.

Hi. And Mr. Jim Raymond,

head of our
promotional department.

Oh... And Wally Witherspoon.

Hope you read "Wake
up With Witherspoon"

in your morning
paper, Mrs. Brady.

Oh... we never miss it.

And, uh, Nora Maynard,

who I trust will have
a few nice things

to say about the Brady family

in her syndicated
literary column.

So this is Mrs. Brady.

Well, uh, would you all
excuse me while I change?

I was really
expecting you at 4:00.

Why don't you just make
yourselves at home?

Well, that's what you did.

Well, I don't care what
you say. I didn't do it!

Just because you're older
than I am, Marcia Brady,

doesn't mean you have
to chop my school friends.

MARCIA: You call
those goons friends?

Girls... ( hiccup)

I've got the hiccups.

Girls, we have guests.

These are my daughters,

Marcia, Jan and Cindy.

These are the three
lovable little moppets

you wrote about, Mrs. Brady?

These are the three.

There are three boys in
the family, too, aren't there?

JAN: They're right behind us.

Bobby tore his good pants.

( hiccup)

I got caught on
that same old fence.

Peter, your eye!

I got in another fight
with Buddy Hinton.

Mom, I talked to
the school nurse.

She said I have poison oak.

( kids screaming)

Poison oak?

And, uh, those... were my boys.

Not quite the darling
little tykes I expected.

Well, uh, why don't
you all sit down?

It'll only take me a
minute to, uh, change.

I bet you'd love
something to eat.

Alice! Would you bring
those sandwiches, please?

Yes, ma'am.

Oops. I forgot the mayonnaise.

Hi, honey. I'm home.

( both yelp)

I'll snap those, Mr. Brady.

Hello, everybody.

This must be Mr. Brady.

Yeah. Head of the family
and chief flower dropper.

How do you do?

Mike, uh, this is,
uh, Nora Maynard

and, uh, Wally Silverspoon.

Witherspoon.

DELAFIELD: Uh, Mr. Brady,

these are members of my staff.

How do you do?

Mr. Delafield,

I'm afraid the family
in Mrs. Brady's story

bears little
resemblance to this one.

Well...

Perhaps a ghostwriter
wrote your story.

No, no. She not only
wrote it, she rewrote it, too.

MAYNARD: Well, it
certainly wasn't about

this delightfully normal
family and its problems.

WITHERSPOON: I'm
afraid the model family

you wrote about
exists only in fairy tales.

Take the advice

of an experienced
reviewer, Mrs. Brady.

The truth isn't only
stranger than fiction,

but far more interesting
to the average reader.

Right. Tell it like
it is, Mrs. Brady.

Tell it like it is.

Nora, let's see if some
sandwiches survived the crash.

Come on, fellows.

Well, I suppose they
wouldn't give my story

a very good
review, Mr. Delafield.

No. No, they wouldn't.

And I guess you don't
want to publish it now.

Oh, no, not under
these conditions.

Well, honey, even famous writers

have had stories
rejected, you know.

Yes, but I had the same
story rejected twice.

Oh, correction.

Just once.

I'm going to publish
your first version.

But you said...
DELAFIELD: Mrs. Brady,

I never listen to what I say.

I listen to what they say.

Oh, Mike, I can hardly wait

to get in there
to my typewriter.

You can't wait to
write another story.

No, I can't wait to break it,

so I'll never have to
go through this again.

You want us to empty
your wastebaskets, Alice?

So we can read what's on

the scrunched-up paper.

That scrunched-up
paper's important.

That may be the best part.

Now, get. You're disturbing
a very busy writer at work.

When are you going
to stop writing your story

and start cooking our dinner?

Oh, your mother's
doing that for me today

so that I can finish this.

Well, Alice, your
dinner's ready.

Thank you.

Oh, boys, ours is
on the table, too.

Would you go tell your
father and the girls?

GREG Sure.

There.

Well, how's it going?

Fine. I'm glad you inspired me.

Good.

Oh, Alice, could
you do me a favor?

Sure. What is it?

Can I have your autograph?

Autograph?

Certainly, Mrs. Brady.

( chuckling): Oh...
"Ernest Hemingway"?

Well, I thought I might
as well start at the top.

Alice...!