All language subtitles for The Jeffersons s11e18 That Blasted Cunningham.eng

Well, we're moving on up, moving on up,
to the sun, moving on up, to a deep...

I can choose, Miss Jefferson.

Oh, they're real nice.

Thank you.

When are you going to try them out?

Right now.

I love that cushion heel.

Oh, will you get that, please?

Oh, would you mind?

My feet are so up to my shoulders.

If I didn't have to get the door, I'd
take care of the rest of you.

Hello, Mr. Bentley. Hello, Mrs.

J, and hello, Florence. Is Mr.

J home?

No, he's not.

Oh, thank goodness. I need to borrow
some sugar.

All right.

And a few other things.

This is quite a list.

Don't you think you ought to go to the
store?

Well, wouldn't that be a bit redundant?
I assume you've already gone.

I'll fill that order, Miss Jefferson.

Now, do you want to pick this up here?

Or at Loden Dock 4.

Well, here would be dandy. And if you
could please hurry, Florence, I don't

to be here when Mr. J gets home.

What's the trouble?

Haven't you seen today's paper?

Cunningham cleaners declares war on
Jefferson cleaners?

Oh, no, not another cleaning war.

When these things come up, he's like a
madman.

Remember the Memorial Day War of 81?

No, I don't remember any of them.

But my therapist says it's just a
defense mechanism.

Set no good load, I'll start, sucker.

I take it you saw the paper.

What is Cunningham trying to do to me? I
haven't the foggiest, Mr. J. I mean,

the nerve of the man. It makes my blood
boil to think I've been a good customer

of his for three years. What?

Sorry, I guess I just succumbed to his
promotion. Remember, 10 % off all

cleaning, 60 % off if you're a friend of
George Jefferson. Get out!

No, no, Mr. J., I won't go, because I'm
a good friend of yours, and I won't

desert you in your hour of desperation.

Side by side, we'll fight this injustice
together.

Here's your stuff, Mr. Vending.

Well, I think I'll pop off now.

Green stamps.

Oh, I wanted you to have the complete
shopping experience.

You've been through this before.

Weezy, do you know what it's like when
two titans from the dry cleaning

butt heads?

No, but I hope it hurts.

What's Cunningham planning on doing
anyway?

He's going to bury me with a promotion
to end all promotions. It's classy, it's

brilliant, it provides high visibility,
and it's totally cost effective.

You want to say that in American?

He's going to shoot himself out of a
cannon.

A cannon?

That's ridiculous.

Ridiculous. And he's landing right in
front of his store on a pile of fluff

full bath towels.

Sorry, I spoke too soon.

Hey, Cunningham. This is Jefferson.

Yes, I read your ad.

I just want you to know that this
shooting yourself out of a cannon is the

second greatest promotion of all time.

The first, you'll see.

What are you going to do? I have no
idea, please.

But whatever it is, it's going to be so
great that Cunningham will die.

You know, a lot of folks might ask, a
memorial service in a dry

cleaner's? But those of us in the biz,
we only nod our

heads knowingly in reply.

Gil Cunningham was one of a kind.

A dry cleaner's dry cleaner. The kind of
guy that would always go that extra

yard.

Who knew when he lured himself into that
cannon yesterday, he would go ten extra

yards.

Except for the part of him that hit the
retaining wall, of course.

Would anyone else like to share some...

Other happy memories of Gil.

Maybe you'll feel better if you say
something.

This is the happiest memory I have of
him.

Mr. Rawlings.

Gil loved... He really loved kids.

I remember how he had this sickly little
nephew, Billy, who was quite a bowling

fan.

Right before the bowling championships,
Billy said, Uncle

Gil, roll a spare for me.

You know what?

Gil rolled Billy that spare.

Unfortunately, George Jefferson followed
with a strike and walked off with the

trophy.

But Gil came through the next year, and
he got that trophy for Billy.

Too bad the kid didn't live to see it.

Anyway, that's the kind of a guy Gil
was.

I sense that some of these people are
blaming me for this.

Then why don't you say something?

I'm thinking, I'm thinking.

Mr. Yamada.

Well, somebody better set the record
straight.

Ah, Mrs. Jefferson.

I'd just like to say that Mr.

Cunningham was a hard -working, devoted
family man like my husband.

And as I look upon this coffin, nestled
among the silent steam presses

and the take -a -ticket machine, I can't
help but think, There but for

the grace of God goes my husband.

I hoped they would stop.

I prayed they'd stop.

I knew this insanity would lead to
tragedy.

I knew it.

How much longer must we endure these
senseless promotional wars?

Mr.

Gillespie, you spun in a dryer for eight
hours on high.

Show us the back of your head.

And, Varsini, you said if anybody
cleaned better than you, you would eat

starch. You still can't bend from the
waist.

Oh, we... When...

I guess that says it all.

Except to say, arrivederci to my friend.

You were a great dry cleaner.

And unless I guess wrong, you're up
there now running a special on angel

Do you mind if I have a few moments
alone with Cunningham? Oh, of course

Yo, Cunningham, I got something I want
to say.

You're talking to his feet.

Cunningham, you probably can't hear me
now.

And even if you could, you'd probably
pretend you couldn't.

So I just want you to know this wasn't
my fault.

I mean, I miss you because you inspired
me to greatness.

I mean, you kicking off like this has
left a hole in my life as big as...

Well, as big as the one you left in
front of your store.

There are others waiting.

We're having a conversation. Do you
mind?

Anyway, Cunningham, I have a confession
to make.

When I said I had a better promotion
than you, I was bluffing.

You had me beat all the time, right up
to the time they lit the fuse.

You're talking to his feet.

Now, if you go on, who's going to give
me my genius ideas?

I know, of course, you don't care about
this because now you're probably up

there taking in angel robes and giving
them back a refund.

Hey, a refund?

Hey, that's not bad.

You did it again, you late son of a gun.

You just gave me the greatest promotion
of all time.

I'd love to shake your hand if I knew
where it was.

There, there. Let it all out.

Well,

keep some of it in.

George, Mrs.

Cunningham has something she'd like to
say to you. Mrs. Cunningham, I hope

you're not blaming me for what happened.

Oh, George, I'm sure she doesn't blame
you.

You killed him!

Let it be on...

Sounds a little like blame to me.

But Mrs.

Cunningham... Get out of my sight,
cleaner killer!

See

that,

you clumsy elf?

That's how a pro does it.

Jefferson swallowed the hook.

Now all I have to do is reel him in.

I'll find out what his promotion is.

I'm so sorry.

How's

Mr.

Jefferson feeling this morning?

Oh, the same.

I wish he'd get over these guilt
feelings.

Mr. Jefferson, you've got to snap out of
this child.

You're looking terrible.

Don't try to cheer me up, okay?

Would you like to have some orange
juice, George?

Will you stop torturing me with this
Cunningham stuff?

But what's orange juice got to do with
Cunningham?

Will he ever be able to drink any again?

I think not.

Mr. Jefferson, you've got to put this
behind you and move on. To what?

I mean, what is life anyway?

You're born, you grow up, you clean a
few clothes, and you die.

Cunningham's at step four now.

I'm still at step three.

And getting closer to step four by the
minute.

Oh, no, he'll never hear a doorbell
again either.

Can't drink orange juice no more.

Can't hear a doorbell no more.

What's the sense in dying?

Oh, my God, she's here for everything.

Oh, George!

Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs. Cunningham.
Please come in.

Actually, I'm the one who's sorry.

I want to apologize for my outburst the
other day.

I was understandably upset, but that was
no reason to blame you.

Mrs. Cunningham... And I have something
to give you. No, no, no. I've taken

enough from you already.

George, why don't you offer Mrs.
Cunningham a seat?

Yeah, good idea.

Take the couch.

Take the chairs.

Take my wallet. It's given me comfort in
times of grief.

I think he means sit down.

Thank you.

Mr. Jefferson, you and my late husband
had a very competitive relationship.

And I loved him for it. You competed not
only in business, but in sport.

For years, your bowling teams met in
combat.

To some, they may have been just Roy's
lanes, but to Gil, they were the beaches

of Normandy.

That's ironic, because his uptown
manager bowled with a goose step.

He's unorthodox, but he's got a 215
average.

Anyway, as a symbol of a new era of
peace and harmony between our cleaners,

would like you to accept this.

The Cleaners League bowling trophy?

Yes. Cunningham Cleaners has walked off
with it the last four years.

Oh, but George couldn't possibly...
Turned out such an appropriate gift,

you.

Gil always said that if anything ever
happened to him, I should give this to

you. In fact, I can hear him saying it
now.

The only way Jefferson will get this
trophy is over my dead body.

Nature's so beautiful when it works.

Can I get you something, Mrs.
Cunningham? No, no, I'll just be going.

But I'll go happier now knowing that
this trophy is in its rightful place.

Mr. Jefferson, you've got to help me.

I don't know what I'm going to do.

Well, they have a women's bowling
league.

Maybe you can win a trophy of your own.

No, no, it's not that.

You see, I'm a helpless housewife who,
through a senseless tragedy, has been

thrust into the cutthroat world of dry
cleaning.

Men are so strong, so smart.

And I'm just a woman.

A woman can't do anything.

Well... Of course she does.

Okay, then. If you'll excuse me, I'll be
in the bedroom paying the bills,

editing the help center newsletter, and
calling the mayor's commission for the

elderly. You know, not doing anything.

Please. You've got to help me. You are
the greatest living dry cleaner alive.

Teach me.

This is some complicated stuff.

Well, okay, what the heck?

This is a hanger.

And to those who feel that plastic bags
don't allow clothes to breathe, my

feelings to them is, hey, they keep
vegetables fresh, don't they?

Woo, we've been at this for three hours.
Okay, now, maybe it's time to move from

counter work to the actual process of
cleaning, okay?

But first...

pop quiz, okay, Mrs. Cunningham?
Somebody brings a dirty shirt into your

what is the first thing you do?

Clean it. Oh, boy, I'm some teacher.

Mr.

Jefferson, as fascinating as all this
is, I'm a little uncertain about

else.

Advertising promotions.

Gil always said that you were a genius
at that.

Genius? He said that I was a genius?

Oh, Mrs. Cunningham, Einstein was a
genius. Benjamin Franklin was a genius.

But of course your husband did have an
eye for brilliance.

Actually, I did have an idea for a
promotion.

How's this?

For every dollar you spend, Cunningham
Cleaners will give you back two.

You poor child.

No wonder they never call a businessman
a businesswoman.

Then what's your idea of a good
promotion?

Okay. Let me describe the sales
technique that I was going to use to

husband. Sorry.

Wrong choice of words.

Oh, don't tell me. I'm sure I could
never understand.

No, but you're lucky. I'm explaining it
to you.

Okay? Now, it's called the George
Jefferson Buckback Bonanza.

Whoever brings in the biggest load of
laundry gets it done for free and gets

dollar back for every pound.

I'm sure that's genius.

But could you tell me why?

Well, it's very simple. You see,
hundreds of people will bring in five

-pound loads.

So I only have to pay the turkey who
brings in eleven.

Now, let me get this straight.

I bring in ten pounds of laundry, and
you give me a turkey?

Let's call it a day, Mrs. Cunningham.

Oh, Mr. Jefferson, I don't know how to
thank you.

Just be one -tenth the dry cleaner I am,
and that's thanks enough for me.

I can't believe Mrs.

Cunningham stole George's promotion.

When he sees that ad, he's going to kill
himself.

You got some tape so I can put this ad
back together?

Be serious, Florence.

He'll be out here any second.

Well, Miss Jefferson, he's bound to see
this ad sooner or later.

True. But there's always the chance that
later could happen elsewhere.

Thank goodness that's the only copy
around.

Have you seen it? Oh, Jesus.

Mr. Bentley, we're trying to keep this
from you -know -who.

Whoops, I'm sorry, Mrs. J., but you can
count on me.

Mr. J., I mean, Mr.

You -Know -Who, won't suspect that I
know anything.

Bentley! Hi, everybody. What's for
breakfast?

How should I know? I don't read the
paper.

You feeling okay?

Me? Why do you ask?

Don't I look all right? I feel all
right.

I'd never conceal anything from you, Mr.
J.

I've got nothing to hide.

Absolutely nothing at all. Come on,
Bentley. Just sit down here and let me

some ice juice. Thank you, Mr. J. That's
very considerate of you. Not really. I

just know you can't drink and babble at
the same time.

What a sense of humor. A wonderful thing
to have at a time of crisis.

And you never know when one of those is
going to pop up. For instance... Where's

my paper?

Here you go, Mr. Jefferson.

a coupon.

The size of the page?

It was a big sale.

Here, Mr. J., you can have mine.

Oh, thank you, Bentley.

Oh, boy, Mrs.

Cunningham.

George,

aren't you shocked by what you just saw?

Why should I be? I've seen Bentley
dribble his juice before.

No, Mr. J, I think she's referring to
Mrs. Cunningham stealing your promotion.

Why aren't you furious?

Because of me, Childish. Right. Why
aren't you furious?

George, you have been bamboozled.

Wheezy, why don't you follow me down to
Cunningham's store, and I will show you

who is the bamboozler and who is the
bamboozly.

Come crawling to beg for mercy?

Do I look like I'm crawling?

It's hard to tell. You're so low to the
ground already.

Good one, good one.

I've come about the promotion.

Oh, I can't take credit for it. It was
all yours.

And you let it slip right through your
fingers.

And into your claws.

Easy wheeze down, girl.

Okay, now.

Mrs. Cunningham, would you explain this
promotion to me again?

Oh, come on. Come on, Jefferson, it was
your idea.

Whoever brings in the biggest load gets
a free wash and a buck back on every

pound. So I assume you're getting in
some pretty big loads, maybe five or ten

pounders? Oh, try 25 and 30.

Stupid me.

But I'm still waiting for the big one.

Well, here it comes. Bring them in,
boys.

Hey. Hey, what's going on?

Wait, stop. What is this?

It's a week lounger from Jefferson
Cleaners, all seven stores.

George, you're brilliant.

Now she's got to give you a dollar for
every pound.

That's right, plus she's got to clean it
for free. Yes, I'm brilliant, but I

couldn't have done it without the help
from an old friend, Gil Cunningham.

What? Yeah, he sent me a message the
other day.

From the other side?

That's right, from the other side of
that trophy.

This was taped to the plaque.

Jefferson, if you are reading this, I
know I'm dead.

I never wanted to be enemies.

It was my wife who wanted to bury you
all these years.

She put the cunning in Cunningham.

Don't trust her.

This is a trick.

I refuse to do this laundry. Ah, ah, ah,
truth in advertising.

You will pay me a dollar for every
pound, which comes to approximately $10

I will not.

Okay, well, then you pay me $20 ,000 in
court. Come, Louise.

Oh,

by the way, I'll need all this on
Tuesday.

Hmm.

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