Original subtitles

- Well, bye, Mom.

Bye, Dad.

- Bye, son.

- Goodbye, dear.

- Hey, you're leaving kind of early, aren't you?

- Yeah.

Hey mom.

This is your last chance to buy some more chances.

Our school chicken raffle is today.

- Well, thank you, dear, but I think

the five we already have are enough.

- Chicken raffle?

- Dennis' teacher put some eggs in an incubator a few months

back so the children could watch them hatch.

- Ms. Perkins says we're not old enough

to learn about the birds and the bees yet,

but chickens are OK, whatever that means.

- So now the chickens have grown up.

- Yeah.

They're so big we've gotta keep them in a pen.

And dad, they've got names.

Red, Sylvia, Marian, and Cynthia.

- You don't say.

- Anyhow, now the children are raffling off the chickens.

- And the kids are gonna use the money

to throw a big party the last day of school

and eat ourselves sick.

- Sounds like a worthwhile cause.

[theme music]

- Hi Mrs. Wilson.

- Good morning, Dennis.

- Oh, is Mr. Wilson's brother up yet?

- No, he's still asleep, but he asked me to call him about now,

so you go on up and do it and I'll bring up his juice.

- Oh boy.

Him and me have got an important business deal to talk over.

- Mr. Wilson. Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Wilson! - What?

What?

- Hi Mr. Wilson.

It's me, Dennis.

- Oh, for the love of-- For a moment

I thought I was having a nightmare.

- Guess what, Mr. Wilson.

This is your last chance to give me a dime to win a chicken.

- Little boy, I told you yesterday,

I am not interested in participating

in any raffle for a chicken.

- But that was yesterday.

If you don't have a dime, Mr. Wilson,

I'll be glad to lend you one.

- I have a dime, Dennis.

It's just that I am not interested in--

[phone ringing]

- Hello?

Yes, this is he.

Well, yes I have.

You would?

Uh, well, I, uh-- yes, that sounds reasonable.

Y-yes, Mr. Hanson.

Oh, no, no.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

Oh joy!

- Here's your juice, John.

- Oh, thank you, Martha.

Oh, I knew this was going to be my day.

Dennis and I were just talking about dimes

when this coin collector, a Mr. Hanson.

He called and offered me $150 for my 1919 D dime, $50 more

than it's worth.

- Well, that's wonderful.

- He's coming into town today or tomorrow and he'll call me.

$150 for one thin dime.

Just think of that, Martha.

- I wonder how he knew you were staying here.

- Oh, well he called me before I left Ohio.

I told him I was coming here and he said he'd get in touch.

- I didn't know you had a coin collection too, Mr. Wilson.

- You didn't?

My boy, for your information, I was the first member

of the Wilson clan to have a coin collection.

I taught them all everything they know about it,

right Martha?

- Right John.

You better get dressed.

I'll go start your breakfast.

- Gosh.

Just think, Mr. Wilson, you can buy one whole chance from

me and still have $149.90 left.

- My boy.

I'm going to do something better than that.

- You are?

- Yes, my boy.

You put me down 10 chances.

And now run along to school.

- Oh boy.

A whole dollar!

- That's right, the whole dollar.

- I like you, Mr. Wilson.

- Well, thank you, Dennis.

I like you too.

- You do?

Hey, you know what I'm gonna do when I come home from school?

- No, what?

- I'm going to come right over here

and keep you company for the rest of the day.

- I wonder if I'm too old to cry.

- Mr. Wilson!

Hey Mr. Wilson!

We'll put it right here, Tommy.

- Dennis, what is it this time?

I-- What's this?

- You won a chicken!

- What?

Martha.

Well, I knew this was my lucky day,

but-- Well, I just can't believe it.

- His name's Fred.

- He's a boy chicken.

He's called a rooster, Seymour.

- That's right.

Fred rooster.

- Yes, John?

You called me?

- Mr. Wilson won a chicken.

- Can you believe it, Martha?

- Well, my goodness.

He's certainly a chubby chicken, isn't he?

- I guess you'll be wanting to build Fred

a bigger chicken coop, huh, Mr. Wilson?

- I'll even make some side curtains for it

if you'd like, Mr. Wilson.

- Well, I hardly think that will be necessary, children.

- Oh, here's some chicken feed for you.

- Oh, thank you, Dennis.

- He eats like a horse.

- Oh, well, that's all right, so long

as he tastes like a chicken.

- Tastes like a chicken?

Jeepers, Mr. Wilson.

You're not going to eat Fred, are ya?

- Well, of course I am, Dennis.

What do you usually do with chicken?

- But you can't!

- You think he's tough?

- He's our pet.

- He used to be an egg.

- Don't you like chickens, Mr. Wilson?

- Well, of course I do, little girl.

Especially the drumstick.

- Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?

- Come on, kids.

- John, don't you think perhaps you

should think about this before--

- Now, Martha, chicken are domesticated fowl

specially raised for human consumption.

Now, I won it fair and square.

It's the first thing I've ever won in a raffle,

and I intend to eat it.

- Well, then you will have to cook it.

- And we, the undersigned, "respeckably" ask--

- Respectfully, Dennis.

F-U-L-L-Y.

- Respectfully ask you to not eat our little friend Fred.

If you treat Fred right, he will be as faithful and a loyal

a pet as Fremont.

- He could lay eggs, too.

- Seymour, Fred's a rooster.

He can't lay eggs.

- Maybe he hasn't tried.

- Quiet, kids.

So we ask you again, Mr. Wilson, if you

Fred at your table for dinner some night,

please have him there as a friend.

- We've already got eight people to sign it, Mrs. Elkins,

and you'll make it nine.

- It's very well put, children, and something

I'm very much in sympathy with.

However, I'm afraid a mere petition won't stop your Mr.

Wilson, if he's anything like his brother George.

- It won't?

- No, Dennis.

This problem calls for direct action.

Come on in, children.

- Oh, here's an interesting recipe, Martha.

Fix chicken on spit over low fire,

occasionally basting with orange sauce.

Oh.

Well, of course we could broil it, or roast it.

What do you think, Martha?

- I think we should have meatloaf, as I planned.

- Oh, Martha, you're my favorite sister-in-law,

but if you're trying to talk me out of that chicken--

[phone ringing] - Oh, I'll, I'll get it.

It's probably that coin collector, Mr. Hanson.

Hello?

- This is Mrs. Elkins, Mr. Wilson.

I live down the block.

- Who is it?

- Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Elkins?

It's a Mrs. Elkins.

You no doubt want to talk to Martha?

- On the contrary, Mr. Wilson, I wish to speak to you.

- You do?

- Mr. Wilson, I am chairman of the local United Fund

to Save Our Feathered Friends.

- Oh, really?

I wasn't aware that I had any.

- Mr. Wilson, this is no laughing matter.

I am referring to one feathered friend in particular.

- His name's Fred!

- Uh, Fred.

The children's pet chicken.

Mr. Wilson, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.

A grown man picking on a poor, defenseless child's pet.

- What I do with that silly fowl is

no business of yours, Mrs. Elkins.

- I am making it my business, Mr. Wilson.

- Oh, you are?

Well, listen here.

You are not going to tell me what to do with my chicken,

you--

- Well!

Nasty, nasty man.

If such a thing is possible, he's

even worse than his brother.

- He's still gonna eat Fred, huh?

- Over my dead body, Dennis.

There must be some way of keeping him

from eating that poor chicken.

- Maybe let's give him one of your cats, instead.

- Little boy!

- People don't eat cats, Seymour.

- They're too bony.

- Children, please.

You're scaring Tinkerbell.

There, there, darling.

- What are we gonna do now, Mrs. Elkins?

- Just a minute, Dennis.

I'm thinking.

- I'm hungry.

- Shh!

Mrs. Elkins is thinking, Seymour.

- Let me see.

What did I do in the campaign of my club's help

save the hollyhocks in our parks?

Of course.

That's it!

- Oh, boy!

What's what, Mrs. Elkins?

- Come along, children.

With a little fresh paint, I think

I have the answer right in my garage.

- Fred?

Fred?

Yeah, Fred.

Now, I don't want you to take this personally,

because this sort of thing happens

to thousands of chickens every day.

Fred.

- John.

Oh, I do wish you wouldn't.

- Martha, I assure you, the children

will have forgotten all about it by tomorrow.

Now, go on in, and let me get on with this.

Fred?

It won't do you a bit of good to look at me with those soft

brown eyes.

Martha?

- Yes, John?

- Ah, Martha, would you get the small strip of cloth?

I think I'll blindfold him first.

- Blindfold him?

While you're at it, why don't you

tie his hands and feet together, lean him up against the wall,

offer him one last cigarette, and shoot him?

- You don't have to be sarcastic about it.

- John, why don't you just kill the poor, defenseless thing

and get it over with?

- Martha!

On second thought, I think I'll let

him fatten up for a few days.

- I didn't think you'd be able to kill that chicken.

- Oh, is that so?

Would you just wait?

I'll--

CHILDREN (CHANTING): He's our friend!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred! He's our friend!

- Well, of all the--

- He's our friend!

- Uh, Mrs. Elkins, I presume?

- That's right, Mr. Wilson.

- And just what do you think you and your midget army are doing?

- She's helping us to talk you out of eating Fred, Mr. Wilson.

- I see.

You realize you're trespassing, of course?

- Oh, John.

- Please, Martha.

I'll handle this.

- Go right ahead, Mr. Wilson.

Call the police.

We are quite prepared to go to jail to save a life.

Right, children?

- That's right, Mrs. Elkins!

- Oh, this is ridiculous!

Just what do you expect me to do with that silly bird?

Adopt it?

He's a chicken.

I won him, and if I want to eat him, I'm going to eat him.

- You cannibal.

- Cannibal?

You agitator!

- Excuse, me, folks.

- Oh, hello, Henry.

- Mr. Mitchell, can you talk this am out

of the wanton spilling of innocent blood?

- The wanton spilling of-- now, see here, Mrs. Elkins--

- Don't you shake your fat finger at me.

- Is that so?

It's my fat finger, and if I--

- Mrs. Elkins, let's see if we can't settle this amicably.

Now, let's see.

John, you won the chicken, and you want to eat it.

Correct?

- That is correct, Henry.

- And the children and you, Mrs. Elkins,

want to spare the chicken's life.

- Precisely.

- Well now, John, supposing you were

to be given a chicken the same size as Fred,

only freshly dressed, in return for which you would allow Fred

to stay here, with the children taking care of him, of course,

until they found another home for him,

would that be all right with you?

- Well--

- It certainly sounds fair to me, John.

- All right, Henry.

I agree.

- I'll go along with that, Mr. Mitchell.

- Oh, boy!

Did you hear that, kids?

Fred's safe!

[cheering]

- Now, don't you kids forget you're

to find Fred a new home as soon as possible.

- All right, children.

Fall in.

Let's take the signs back to my garage.

[whistle] Forward march!

- Huh, to you, too.

[crowing]

[crowing]

- 4:00 in the morning. [crowing]

- Oh, shut up!

Ah!

[crowing]

- Will you please--

[knocking]

- Yes?

- Is anything wrong?

- Not with me, but something tells me our friend

out there is not too long for this world.

- You promised the children that you wouldn't hurt that chicken.

- I'm not going to hurt him, Martha.

I'm going to kill him!

- John Wilson, I'm disappointed in you.

A promise is a promise.

- Oh, all right, Martha.

You didn't promise.

- Oh, John!

[crowing]

- There's your happy chicken, Alice.

I hope you're satisfied.

- My chicken?

- You talked me into saving that silly rooster's life,

didn't you?

[crowing]

- Henry, where are you going?

- Mr. Wilson's brother promised not to kill that chicken,

but I didn't.

- Henry Mitchell, you get right back in bed.

[crowing]

[phone ringing]

[crowing]

[phone ringing]

- Yes?

- Mr. Wilson, the least you can do

is to put that noisy chicken in your basement,

so that it doesn't wake up the whole neighborhood.

- Why, Mrs. Elkins, do you mean to tell me

that our feathered friend woke you u

- Woke me up?

Of course he woke me up!

- Good.

You made your bed.

Now you can toss on it!

- Hey, Mr. Wilson, Mr. Wilson.

- Oh, uh, Dennis, did you find a new home-- oh, no.

Your father said I'd get one all dressed and ready for the oven.

- Oh, this one isn't for eating, Mr. Wilson.

This is Marian, another pet.

- Good heavens.

- We haven't found a home for Fred yet,

but the lady that won Marian didn't want her, either.

- So, we thought maybe if you put Fred and Marian together,

and treated 'em nice, maybe they'd make you some eggs.

Come on, Tommy.

- Dennis, I don't want any eggs.

I don't want another pet chicken.

All I want is to get rid of the one I have.

- Well, hello, boys.

- Oh, hi, Sgt. Mooney.

Mr. Wilson, this is Sgt. Mooney.

- We've already met, Dennis, Well, Sergeant,

what can I do for you this fine day?

- Eh, those aren't chickens I see there, are they, Mr. Wilson?

- Those?

Of course not.

Those are butterflies with gland trouble.

- Well, it so happens that we've had

a complaint about a certain butterfly with gland trouble

that's been crowing his silly head off all night.

- Oh, you don't say?

And who complained?

A jealous rooster?

- Mrs. Elkins.

- Yeah-- Mrs. Elkins?

Why that-- that-- well, she's the reason

that rooster's here in the first place!

- I can't help that.

There's a city ordinance about keeping chickens

in a residential area.

- Now see here, sergeant!

Only one of those chickens is mine, and I'm getting rid of it

today. - Good.

That'll save you from getting another ticket tomorrow.

- But sergeant, I-- tell you what.

You forget that ticket, and you can have both those chickens.

- What?

- Both of them.

They-- the pen thrown in.

- Hey, that's a swell idea, Mr. Wilson.

- They do look nice and plump, don't they?

- And all you gotta do, Sgt. Mooney,

is to promise to keep them as pets instead of eating them.

- Keep them as pets? - Sure.

They make swell little friends.

- Well, you see, sergeant, I sort of promised the children

that they wouldn't be killed.

- Listen, my friend, if you weren't George Wilson's

brother, I'd haul you in for trying

to bribe an officer of the law.

The idea, trying to corrupt an honest cop

with a couple of pet chickens.

Here.

- Oh, that--

- Don't say it, Mr. Wilson.

Remember, there are little kids around here.

- John.

Mr. Hanson just called. - Yeah?

And?

- He said he'd be here any minute to inspect

that rare dime of yours.

- Oh, the coin collect-- Why didn't you say so, Martha?

I'd better get ready.

- Well Tommy, I guess we'll just have to find Fred a new place

where he can sleep nights so he won't--

- Hey, Dennis.

Do you see what I see?

- Oh boy, she did it.

She did it!

It's an egg.

Marian laid an egg!

Mr. Wilson! Mr. Wilson!

Come quick!

- Dennis, what is it?

- Come over here, Mr. Wilson. - What?

- Down there, look!

- Well, what is it?

- Don't you see it?

Marian laid an egg for you.

- Dennis, did you drag me all the way out here just to--

- Hey Mr. Wilson, you dropped something.

- My dime.

- Uh oh.

Fred just swallowed something.

- Whatever it was, he sure had a hard time getting it down.

- Did-- Did-- That beast swallowed my dime.

I'll kill it.

I'll kill--

- No you won't, Mr. Wilson!

Remember, you promised!

- Give me my dime back, you thief!

- He's not a thief.

He found it.

- John, Mr. Hanson is here.

- Fred.

Cough.

I haven't got time now, Martha.

I-- oh!

Oh, Mr. Hanson.

- All ready to show me your 1919 D dime?

1919 dime.

Oh, yes, of course.

- You do still have it?

- Uh, ye-- yes.

There's just one thing.

- It's inside Fred.

- Dennis, please.

- Inside who?

- Fred. - Yeah.

Mr. Hanson, there's been a little accident.

But in view of the price you have offered,

I'm willing to give you the dime and throw

in those two chickens.

- Two chickens?

But--

- But remember, Mr. Wilson, he's gotta promise

to give Fred and Marian a good home until they die of old age.

- Dennis, please.

- Now, you see, Mr. Hanson--

- Jeepers, mister, you'll not only get

your dime and two swell pets--

- But fresh eggs besides.

- Children, let me do the talking.

Mr. Hanson, I will personally guarantee

that the dime inside that chicken

is exactly as represented.

And I, uh, well, I'm not finished.

- Well, I am.

You nut, you! - Mr. Hanson!

That does it.

I'll murder that two legged slot machine with my bare hands.

- Look Mr. Wilson!

Fred didn't swallow your dime after all.

- Mr. Hanson!

Mr. Hanson, I've got it!

Mr. Hanson!

Hold it!

Mr. Hanson! Mr. Hanson!

- Mr. Wilson!

- Hello Alice, Henry.

- We've got good news for you, John.

- We've just talked to Phil Tyler, a distant relative

with a farm upstate, and he said he'd

be glad to give Fred a good home.

- Did you hear that, Tommy?

- Hey, what about Marian, Mrs. Mitchell?

- Marian?

- She's the girl chicken visiting Fred.

- I don't see why he should have any objection

to take Fred's girlfriend along.

- Oh boy.

Isn't that swell, Mr. Wilson?

- Oh, it's just patchy dandy, Dennis.

- Now John, you should be glad everything's

turned out so well.

You've got your valuable dime back

and Fred's got a good home.

Well, I-- I suppose you're right, Martha.

- Gosh.

Just think.

Fred and Marian can live together

and raise a family like other chickens.

- Nobody's gonna eat him up.

- That's right Tommy.

- You better come along, Dennis.

Time to get cleaned up.

We're almost ready for dinner.

- OK, bye Tommy.

- Bye Dennis.

- Bye.

- What are we having for dinner, mom?

- Fried chicken.

- Oh boy.

- Great Caesar.

[theme music]

NARRATOR: This has been a Screen Gems film production

from the Hollywood studios of Columbia Pictures.