Original subtitles

* Men.

All righty. Here we go.

$38.41 for school pictures.

Thanks.

You forgot to sign it.

No. Did I?

Oh! Silly me.

Um. Alan... Jerome... Harper...

D.C.

District of Columbia?

Doctor of Chiropractic.

You know, not everyone can use those letters after his name.

Congratulations. Give me the check.

You put the wrong date.

Oh. Did I?

Yeah, see? It's for next month?

Oh! Uh, don't worry about that,

that's just for bookkeeping purposes.

This isn't going to be like the check you gave me

for the field trip to Catalina, is it?

Hey, hey, that was the bank's mistake.

Yeah? Well, the teacher made me stay on the boat

while everyone else went swimming with dolphins.

Dolphins carry disease, Jake.

Alan Harper, D.I.C.

You're welcome!

JAKE: You're cheap.

I'm not cheap, I'm broke!

ALAN: There's a difference.

He was cheap long before he was broke.

If you knew what I'd done on that table recently,

you wouldn't put your face on it.

I don't get it, Charlie.

I'm a good guy, I try to do the right thing,

and I have nothing to show for it.

Are you still grinding on the fact that you

finally met a great gal,

moved in with her,

had a house you could call your own,

then burned it down along with all your possessions

and watched her run off with her ex-husband?

Was it really necessary to list the entire fiasco?

I enjoy the occasional recap.

But look at the bright side.

What bright side?

I just got a big residual check,

and I'm heading to Vegas!

Oh, my God!

Do you have any idea how long it would take me

to earn that kind of money?

Oh, don't think like that.

You're never going to earn that kind of money.

(groans)

Seriously-- table.

(groans): Oh...!

Okay, I know I give you a hard time,

but it makes me feel horrible watching you go through this.

You know what I'm going to do?

What?

Stop watching you.

I'm starting to feel better already.

CHARLIE: Table!

* Men, men, men, men, manly men, men, men *

* Ah. * Men. * Men.

* Men.

Okay, I'm out of here.

Bye.

Oh, Zippy.

I can't stand seeing you like this.

You going to Vegas, too?

I wish.

You know, I've been where you are.

What'd you do on the table?

No... I've been down and out.

I've lost everything,

didn't know where my next meal was coming from.

Really?

Felt like I was all alone in the world.

No friends.

Nobody who gave a damn whether I lived or died.

What'd you do?

Well, first thing I did was pick myself up,

dust myself off, and rat out my ex-boyfriend to the Feds.

You're kidding.

Got a $2,500 reward from

the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms.

Took that, and invested it in a pallet of

counterfeit Jordache jeans,

set up a booth at the Rose Bowl swap meet.

Made a killing.

Really?

Took those profits and opened up

a little donut shop, across the street

from a police station...

Can't miss, right?

Turns out, cops don't like paying for donuts.

Lost my ass.

Had to go to work cleaning toilets for strangers.

What's the point of this story?

I just wanted you to know I've had a colorful past.

Good night.

(groans)

It was a hell of a story.

* Men.

Jake, I'm going to take a nap.

(groans)

(groans)

(thud, grunt)

Ow.

Oh...

Egyptian cotton.

(hums "Streets of Cairo")

Might as well take a nap in style for a change.

Oh, yeah.

No wonder he can have so much sex.

The mattress does half the work.

Oh, hello.

New TV.

Hmm, remote.

Remote, where is the remote?

Poor Charlie.

Went to Vegas and forgot his hooker money.

Oh, here we go.

What the hell?

You sick bastard.

Oh...

This would be terrific with a woman.

Ugh.

My ass cannot be that big.

Ugh...

Who's your daddy?

Who's your daddy?

Unfortunately, you are.

Hey, buddy.

Uh, what are you doing up here?

You're on the TV downstairs.

Yes, well, there's a very good explanation for that.

I'm listening.

It never happened.

Understood. Daddy.

* Men.

Yeah, hi, this is Charlie Harper in the garden suite.

I'm going to need a couple more pillows and some ice.

Thank you.

Okay, this is nice...

quiet... private...

(knocking on door)

Come on in.

Mr. Harper?

Call me Charlie.

All right, Charlie.

Call me Kendra.

Can I call you Nurse Kendra?

If you like.

Ooh, I like.

I gotta tell you, Nurse Kendra, I'm a little nervous.

I've never done anything like this before.

Oh! A newbie. Well, don't worry.

You're in good hands.

Is it going to hurt?

Maybe a little soreness afterwards... some bruising...

Well, I guess that's what I'm paying for, right?

Hello, Mr. Harper!

Welcome to the Schenkman Clinic.

We have you down for an eye lift and a neck tuck in the morning.

That's correct.

Is there anything else you'd like done

while you're out?

Little lipo? Nose job?

Penis enlargement?

No, no. No, thanks.

And for the record,

I got a penis enlargement when you walked in the room.

Thank you.

You have any questions? Concerns?

I don't think so, I just want to make sure I look natural,

like I haven't had any work done.

No. Don't you worry.

My work is undetectable.

In fact, you might be surprised to learn that Kendra here

is a 62-year-old black man.

I'm kidding.

But those boobs? Those are Schenkman's.

I'm not sure I want my eyes to pop out like that.

You're going to look great. See you in the morning.

Thank you, Doc.

Anything else you need?

I think I'm okay.

Wait, wait, wait.

There is one thing.

No, you can't see them.

Then I'm good.

* Men.

(doorbell rings)

ALAN: Jake! Your mom's here!

Hey.

Well, I guess it was probably inevitable.

What? Oh!

Oh, the clothes.

Well, as you know, most of mine burned up in the fire,

and Charlie's in Vegas, so I figured, why not?

Because you look like an idiot.

Hey, Mom.

Hi. Bye, buddy.

Get help.

Wish I could afford it!

Oh, man.

My life is pathetic.

On the other hand...

Charlie's life is great.

Bartender!

Drinks for everybody!

(everyone cheering)

Just house brands.

Hi. Charlie Harper.

* Men.

* Men.

Wow! A house on the beach.

That's awesome, Charlie.

Well, I suppose it must seem that way.

I mean, you'd think driving around town

in a big, brand-new Mercedes

would also be pretty awesome.

And-- and it is.

Um, but, at the end of the day,

doesn't matter how much stuff you have.

What matters is what's in here.

Oh, what is in here?

Oh! Pfft! More cash.

How about that?

And you got all that just by writing jingles?

I know! Not even a real job.

What can I say? You know, some of us are very lucky.

Very, very... very lucky.

Charlie?

Yeah. Charlie.

I mean, yeah! Charlie!

You want to get out of here?

Wow! Where'd that come from?

I thought we were getting along.

N-No!

I mean together.

Someplace quiet?

Oh, yes, uh, yes, by all means!

Let's go somewhere quiet.

Uh, bartender, thank you for taking such good care of us.

Here you go.

One, two, three dollars.

Give one of those to the waitress.

So, where would you like to go?

How about your beach house?

Great idea!

Yeah, why go to Denny's or Appleby's

when you have your own beach house?

Come, let us Mercedes to the beach.

(whispering): This is so easy.

* Men.

Charlie...

Mom?

Sweet Jesus!

Surprise!

What happened to you?

What are you doing here?

Since I referred you to Dr. Schenkman, he was kind enough

to offer me a free chemical peel.

When this heals, I will have the face of a 12-year-old girl.

Yeah, but from the neck down,

you'll still be an Egyptian mummy.

Oh, hush.

I just stopped by to wish you luck tomorrow.

Well, thanks.

No, wait-- why would I need luck?

Oh, no reason.

That 60 Minutes report on Dr. Schenkman

was entirely one-sided.

Much like that poor woman's vagina.

Sleep well.

Yeah, like I'm going to sleep at all after that.

* Men.

Welcome to the Casa del Charlie.

Wow.

What a beautiful beach house.

Yes, yes, it is.

Beach is out there.

And just past it, the ocean.

Oh.

Keep going and you hit Hawaii.

Oh.

Then Japan.

And I guess this is where you write all your jingles.

Yup. This is where the magic happens.

(chuckling)

Play me something.

Oh, gosh.

I'd rather not.

Oh, please? For me.

Well, if you insist.

(anxious laugh)

(plays glissando)

Ah...

Here is a little song you might remember by...

...the immortal...

...Mr. Billy Joel.

(off-key): * Harry Truman, Doris Day

* Red China, Johnnie Ray

* South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio *

* Ho!

* Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon

* Studebaker, television

(jabbering)

* Marilyn Monroe

* We didn't start the fire

* It was always burning since the world's been turning *

* We didn't start the fire

* No, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it *

* We didn't start the fire!

(plays glissando)

(laughing)

You're very talented.

Oh, no, no, no.

Billy Joel is very talented.

I'm just a piano man.

I only have one question. What's that?

How long are you going to pretend to be Charlie Harper?

(off-key): * Sing us a song

* You're the piano man...

Oh, please... yeah, give it a rest.

(sighs)

How'd you know?

I've been with Charlie.

I-I've been in this house.

Well...

Color me embarrassed.

So...

Who are you?

(sighs)

All right. All right.

Here's the truth.

My real name is Derek.

Brick.

House.

Derek Brickhouse.

Yeah, try again.

(sighs) All right.

My name is Alan. I'm-I'm Charlie's brother.

I-I live on his fold-out couch.

I'm-I'm sorry. I'll drive you back.

Hang on.

I didn't say I wanted to go.

Oh, no, but I thought it was kind of implied.

I'm having a good time, aren't you?

Well, not now.

I was.

When I was Charlie.

And Billy Joel.

Who else do you like to be?

What do you mean?

I think role-playing is kind of a turn-on.

No kidding.

Yeah.

That's why I came back here with you.

Makes some guys nervous.

Your brother hated it.

Well, I am not my brother.

(laughing)

As you so adroitly pointed out.

Come on.

Oh, boy.

Role playing.

Can I be the man?

Are you serious?

Well, I've had a bad run lately.

* Men.

Mr. Harper.

Mr. Harper.

How are you feeling?

Okay.

How'd it go?

It went great.

And the doctor decided to give you a bonus.

Check 'em out.

Oh, no, no.

I didn't ask for these.

But you haven't even seen them yet.

I don't want to see them.

Hang on.

You know, this could work.

* Men.

So, Gretchen, what exactly was the role playing

that freaked Charlie out so much?

GRETCHEN: Hang on. You'll see.

I'm just glad you're not as uptight as he is.

Well, as you know, I'm capable of bending the rules

and going with the flow.

(with German accent): What do you think,

Schweinhund?

Not a deal-breaker.

* Men.

* Men.

Honey, I'm home.

ALAN: In the kitchen.

Kids okay?

How's the Beaver?

Everybody's fine. How's Vegas?

You know, the usual.

How was your weekend?

Pretty good.

I met a girl.

Did her name happen to be Gretchen?

Jawohl.

That's indelible marker, you know. I know.

Don't worry, it'll come off in a few weeks.

That's what I figured.

Does she still have her little mustache?

You know, down at the Russian front?

I wouldn't know what she's got.

I was blindfolded and hog-tied.

Right, right, right.

Why are you wearing sunglasses?

No reason.

Why don't you take them off?

Okay, fine.

You might as well know.

Bar fight.

Oh, no. What happened?

Eh, some bikers were giving a stripper a hard time,

so I jumped in.

You're kidding.

You know me.

I can't stand to see a naked, high-heeled,

glitter-covered, ping-pong-ball-shooting

woman in distress.

Wow. That-That sounds very brave.

Good for you.

Thank you.

Uh, Charlie?

Yeah?

Uh, if you're going to go with that story,

you might want to ask mom

to stop telling people you had your eyes done.

Damn.

The mummy strikes again.

You know, it's actually not a bad look.

Shame one guy had to ruin it for everybody.

* Men.