Original subtitles

Oh, yeah, there you are, Bob.

I just thought you'd like to know

that thanks to the lack of security in our building,

some guy got in and took advantage of me.

Okay, I got an image here, Becker.

Make it go away real fast.

What? Oh, no, no, no, look,

some high school kid came to my apartment

and gave me this whole song and dance

about how his class was raising money

by selling atlases to get into college, right?

So, I-l ordered one.

Yeah, look, I got a receipt and everything.

But have they sent me my atlas?

No. I got robbed.

What do you need an atlas for?

Don't you have enough people telling you where to go?

So, you're getting all bent out of shape

- over $19.95? - Yes?

Plus shipping and handling...

which is a whole other conversation.

Yeah, do me a favor,

have that one with somebody else, all right?

No, no, no problem.

No, yeah, I'm glad to take care of it.

Yeah, take care, and again, I'm so sorry for your loss.

What was that all about?

I'm planning a memorial

for Mrs. Bernstein from the building.

Who's Mrs. Bernstein?

Um, from the fifth floor, elderly, gray hair,

always wears lots of bright orange lipstick...

unfortunately, not all on her lips.

Oh.

Never heard of her.

So, uh, what killed the old bat?

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that was cold.

How did the old bat pass?

Mrs. Bernstein's fine.

It's her live-in companion, Mr. Pinkus, who died.

Never heard of him, either.

You know, I can't believe it.

I lived in the building only three months,

and I know more people than you do.

That's why they're called apartments.

They keep people apart.

So, have you, uh, planned a menu for this memorial yet?

People don't come to eat.

It's a funeral, not a Vegas buffet.

That's not true.

Food is a vital part of the occasion.

Ask Becker. He knows about death.

What the hell's that supposed to mean, I know about death?

That wasn't a slam on your doctoring.

It's because you're old.

Yeah, well, I'm going to live a lot longer than you are.

Secondhand smoke... is very dangerous.

My mother smoked three packs a day while I was in the womb.

You don't scare me.

Whoa, I got so much to do.

Let's see... order flowers, get chairs, and now food.

Let me ask you a question, why are you doing this?

To be nice. Is that concept so foreign to you?

Screw you. I'm nice.

Just so you know, slowing down at a crosswalk

does not make you a nice person.

Yeah, well, if you come to a complete stop,

people think they have all day.

Hey, Jake.

Hey-

What's wrong with you?

Well, Amanda and I got into a fight,

and I-l think she might be moving out.

You're not sure?

Well, I've been hearing packing noises...

tape, boxes shuffling, bubble wrap.

I don't know what to do. I-l don't want to lose her.

I love bubble wrap.

What is the matter with you?

What?

- Bubble wrap? -I like to pop it.

I swear, you are the most selfish, uncaring,

inconsiderate person I've ever met.

Your friend's girlfriend might be leaving him,

and that's all you can think to say?

"I love bubble wrap. I like to pop it"?

Yeah, and I'll tell you why, too.

Because, unlike a woman,

bubble wrap makes a noise, then it stops.

You know, it wouldn't kill you to help out.

I don't care if you have hemorrhoids.

Maybe if you got off your butt once in a while,

they wouldn't bother you.

Is that Mr. Porter again?

'Cause I told him the same thing this morning.

Do you think that I would talk to a patient like that?

That was my husband.

He just told me that his brother

and his big-mouthed wife are coming to dinner tonight.

I hate her.

And on top of that,

I have to make a damn strawberry cheesecake.

- Why don't you just buy one? -Because she'll know.

It's Lewis's mother's recipe, and there's no bakery in town

that uses her secret booze.

Well, look on the bright side, Margaret.

What's that?

Things are great for me.

I have a date tonight.

His name is Paul, and he's hot.

Well, whoop-dee-doo.

Isn't that funny how, whenever you're in a bad mood,

I'm in a good mood?

Think about it. You'll laugh.

You're not gonna believe this, Margaret.

I just called the high school

about that crater-faced kid who sold me the atlas.

They have no idea who he is.

That punk scammed me out of nearly 20 bucks.

I'm not going to take this. I want my atlas.

Well, I want my sister-in-law to burst into flames.

We don't always get what we want.

For God's sake, your ad is a picture of a bouquet of flowers

ringing a doorbell.

What do you mean, you don't deliver?

Look, I'm trying to plan a memorial service.

I got a million things...

All right, forget it, forget it, I'll pick them up myself.

Okay, that'll be three bucks. Thanks.

So, Jake, you really think Amanda's moving out?

I don't know, and it's driving me crazy.

I mean, ever since we got into that fight,

she hasn't talked to me.

I went home for lunch, nothing but silence.

Well, except when I stepped on some bubble wrap.

For a second, I thought she took a shot at me.

You know, this is silly.

Why don't you talk to her, tell her you want to make up?

Well, I can't do that. You know how it works.

- Whoever talks first loses. -Oh... yeah.

I'm sorry, I've never been in a mature relationship.

Look, why don't you just write her a note?

Well, you know, I'd like to,

and it's not that I can't find the words.

It's that I can't find the paper, the pen,

the envelope or the mailbox.

Look, I meant, I'd be happy to write it for you.

This way, you can tell her exactly how you feel.

- All right. -Yeah?

- Guess it's worth a try. -Come on.

- Okay, um... "Dear Amanda... " -Mm-hmm.

"This is all your fault.

"Just like it always is.

"All I said was that your new perfume

makes you smell like a cheap whore."

Uh, t-tell you what, why don't I write a rough draft

of what I think you want to say,

which is that you don't want her to move out, right?

Right, but don't make it my fault.

No, of course not.

You're a guy. It never is.

Hey, guys.

Hey, Bob, how you doing?

Great. You know that memorial you're planning?

I mean, it really got me jazzed about planning my mom's funeral.

Oh, no, is she ill?

No, healthy as an ox.

Well, you know, an ox with one lung.

Well, then why on earth would you be planning her funeral?

So that when the time comes,

the catered buffet is just a phone call away.

I'm thinking of serving Cajun,

you know, something a little spicy, a little cha-cha-cha.

- Does your mom like Cajun food? -She hates it.

Then why would you serve something she hates?

Newsflash-- she won't be eating anything.

Besides, I'm not settled on serving Cajun yet.

I got to make a couple of calls.

Then I got to shoot over to Queens for an Irish wake.

Closed casket, open bar.

Hey, Chris, coffee, please,

and are the donuts half price yet?

Not until 4:00.

Oh, well, just coffee then.

Jake, just let me take care of the big spender,

and I'll get right on your letter.

- Okay. -What letter?

Well, Chris is helping me

patch things up with Amanda by writing a letter.

She's putting down her feelings and signing my name.

It's B.S., but it just might work.

Oh, I see. So, first, you're the funeral director,

now you're the love doctor?

I like to help people with their problems.

If you asked, I'd help you, too.

Well, my biggest problem is I need some coffee.

Your biggest problem

is that you think that's your biggest problem.

What is this obsession you have with being so damned helpful?

It's not an obsession.

I like to do nice things for people.

It makes me happy.

Oh, I see, so what you're saying

is that your happiness depends on other people.

See, that's very sad.

I get mine from deep inside myself.

Yeah, so deep it can't even claw its way out.

I think you're being naive.

You can't take on everybody's problems.

You're gonna burn yourself out.

What are you talking about? You're a doctor.

You help people all the time.

I charge them.

Okay, Mr. Engels.

Everything looks pretty good.

Just, uh, put a couple drops in that ear,

and that should clear right up.

Let me ask you a question.

You're a lawyer, right?

Now, if somebody sells you something

and then they don't deliver it,

can you sue for that?

What exactly are we talking about?

Take a look at this.

Yeah, some high school kid came to my apartment...

- Right. -...and sold me an atlas

for $19.95, and I never got it.

Wow, that's-that's very interesting.

Yeah, you know,

I'm arguing a case like this right now

in front of the State Supreme Court.

- No kidding. -No, no.

Couple of Girl Scouts sold an old lady

a box of broken cookies.

Well, thanks very much.

Um... I'm putting you down for a colonoscopy.

Wait, wait, wait. I-I'm here for an earache.

What do I need a colonoscopy for?

Standard procedure for treating a smartass.

Well, it was really good to talk to you.

Can't wait.

See you tonight.

Margaret, shoot me.

What's wrong?

That was my cousin Kyle.

He's coming to town tonight,

and he expects me to entertain him.

So?

So, now I can't go on my date with Paul.

Well, why don't you just reschedule?

Because Paul's girlfriend's only away for tonight.

Well, you certainly don't want that one to get away.

Why don't you just take your cousin outwith you?

Because that's lame.

Besides, I think my cousin has a crush on me.

He's always talking about some bath we took together

when we were, like, three.

And he's always asking me why we don't do that anymore,

and I'm, like, "Hello! We live 500 miles apart!"

Well, look on the bright side, Linda.

What's that?

Things are great for me.

I was in the diner,

and I happened to mention to Chris

how I hated the idea of making that cheesecake,

and she said that she would do it for me.

Isn't that sweet?

How does that help me?

It doesn't.

But isn't it funny

when you're in a bad mood, I'm in a good mood?

Think about it. You'll laugh.

I-l don't believe this.

She's helping some lady in the building,

then Jake and now you.

Wh-What is this, Touched by a Fry Cook?

Well, I think that Chris is sweet.

As a matter of fact, I think the whole neighborhood

is better off from having her in it.

- Oh, please... -A-And you know what?

You can learn a lesson from her.

It wouldn't hurt you to be a little nicer.

Hey, I'm nice. I'm plenty nice.

You know, maybe you forgot,

I practically put a kid through college

by buying some damn atlas.

Which I never got!

Here's your burger, well done.

If I do say so myself.

So, John, you think you'll be able to make it

up to the memorial tonight?

No, I got to deal with a little problem of my own.

Unless, of course, it would make you happy

to take care of it for me.

Still trying to crack the big "atlas conspiracy"?

Yeah, for your information,

I consulted with a lawyer this afternoon

who's arguing a similar case

in front of the State Supreme Court.

Hello?

What?!

Your place is called Chairs, Chairs, and More Chairs.

How could you be out of chairs?

Yeah, fine, fine. I'll find them somewhere else.

- Problem? -No, a challenge.

- Hey, Jake,

I'm glad you're here.

Listen, I've been working all day on your letter,

and I think I've got it perfect.

Actually, uh, I-l don't think I'm gonna need that letter.

Oh?

Yeah, yeah, I went home,

and Amanda was there and...

And you sat down and talked it out.

Well, after all the sex, it really didn't

feel like we needed to talk.

But I really hope you didn't go through

-too much trouble, though. -No, no, no.

She was happy to go to all that trouble.

I'm happy they made up.

And if you guys ever have problems again,

I'm ready to jump in.

L-I... w-with a letter.

Gotcha.

By the way, Jake, what were all those sounds?

The packing boxes? Bubble wrap?

Yeah, the bubble wrap.

I completely forgot to ask.

You know, I better go home and check.

I might have just had break-up sex.

Ma, Ma...

calm down.

I said I wasn't settled on serving Cajun food.

Well, it-it kind of will be over your dead body.

Look, l-I'll call you back.

Serves me right.

I should have never run this whole funeral thing

by her in the first place.

So now she's upset?

No, now she's involved.

Suddenly Cajun's too spicy.

And barbecue's out because she wants to be cremated.

I swear, I never thought I'd say this,

but I hope she never dies.

Chris, I have a cab waiting outside.

- Do you have my...? -Here you go.

One strawberry cheesecake.

Oh, great!

Oh, I can't thank you enough for this.

It looks delicious.

I hope my sister-in-law chokes on it.

I-I spent three hours making that.

Three happy hours.

I am so sorry.

Let me... let me clean it up.

Uh, no, no, no, you're in a hurry. l-I'll get it.

She'll be happy to get it.

Well, thank you.

I'll-I'll just stop at a bakery on the way home

and buy another cheesecake.

L-I thought you had to have alcohol in it.

Well, to be honest, that was just for me.

It's the only way I can stand my sister-in-law.

Bye-bye.

So, John, you-you really think

you won't be able to make it tonight?

You know, a lot of people from the building will be there.

All the more reason not to go.

Last thing I want to do

is stand around with a bunch of mourners

in some old lady's cramped apartment

which reeks of Bengay, mothballs and kugel.

I doubt you'll be cramped.

She's got a big apartment. She lives in 5-C.

The rent-control two-bedroom

with southern exposure, den and terrace?

Yeah. You know it?

Well, I've heard of it.

You know something?

I bet with him gone, she might want to move out.

I mean, that's a pretty big apartment

just to be all alone in.

You know what? Maybe I will pop up and pay my respects.

Very nice, John.

Why don't you just go up with a tape measure?

Oh, no, no, no, that'd be disrespectful.

I can eyeball it.

Oh, wow. This place is huge.

Hideous but huge.

Food stations.

That way, the mourners don't get all bunched up.

Nice.

Mrs. Bernstein, how are you holding up?

Oh, I'm all right.

And thank you for doing everything. It's just...

it's just lovely.

Uh, Mrs. Berylstein?

Uh, Bernstein.

...Bernstein, um, I just, uh...

I came up from downstairs.

I just wanted to say how sorry I am

about your loss.

May I ask, is that original crown molding?

- I really don't know. -Oh.

- Um, but, you know, thank you, dear. -Mm-hmm.

L-I couldn't have pulled this all together on my own.

No, no, no, I was happy to do it.

And now that everything's taken care of,

you just relax and enjoy yourself.

Well, not enjoy yourself, but, you know...

Excuse me, the, uh... the terrace,

does it get a lot of shade?

John, don't you have anything else to say

to Mrs. Bernstein?

Well, y-yes, of course I do.

Look, I am so sorry. You... you must be a wreck.

I mean, the silence, all the memories,

walking around this huge place, you know,

maybe feeling all of a sudden,

"This may be a little too big for me."

Stop it!

Oh, yes, it is so very difficult!

--Oh, oh, well,

uh... there, there.

You know, ashes to ashes, circle of life and all of that.

What-what would you say your average electric bill is?

Mini hot dogs.

A little pedestrian, yet strangely comforting.

Uh, may we pay our respects to Mr. Pinkus?

Oh, of course. Yes, he's-he's over there.

- Oh. -Oh.

Excuse me.

Wow.

Either this place is much bigger than I thought,

or that is one tiny casket.

Is that... all of-of Mr. Pinkus?

I'm afraid so.

Well, I think I would have remembered

seeing him around the building.

No kidding.

I mean, I know old people shrink,

but that-that is one little guy.

Well, actually, he was very large for his breed.

Uh, m-maybe it was all that people food.

People food?

Breed?

He was a tabby.

A cat? Oh.

Did you hear that, Chris? Mr. Pinkus was a cat.

You're kidding.

A cat? I-l did all of this for a cat?

Sure seems that way, doesn't it?

A cat?

But you're still happy, right, Chris?

You know, you could have told me.

I spent the whole damn day on the phone,

ordering food, flowers and chairs,

all while making a doomed cheesecake

and writing 47 drafts of a letter

to get Jake back together with his girlfriend,

not knowing he was going to go home and have sex with her!

And when I leave here,

do I get to go home and relax? No!

No, because I agreed to spend the evening

entertaining Linda's cousin Kyle!

I... I don't know what you're talking about.

- L-l do. -You shut up!

If it makes you feel any better, the desserts- fabulous.

I mean, personally, I'd lose the flan,

but that's just me.

This-this could be my imagination,

but you don't seem all that... happy.

- Let me just tell you something. -Yeah. Come on.

I am glad I did what I did,

because my heart was in the right place

and I am happy!

And if I had the chance to do all this again, I would!

Oh, good, good, good, 'cause I hear

there's a hamster in 4-B on its last legs.

Screw you.

Yeah.

Well, only if it would make you happy.

Sorry about Pinkus.

But the food? Delish.

Uh, actually, you know what?

L-I, uh... I better take off.

- It's been f... -Oh, you know, Mr. Pinkus

would have loved all this.

Oh.

He-he was my constant companion for almost 20 years.

Everywhere I look,

I... I still see his sweet, little face.

Yes, his fuzzy head.

His sparkling eye.

Oh, well... that one-eyed cat

with th-the orange spot above its tail?

That's Mr. Pinkus?

Oh, you knew him?

Well, yes. He was my friend.

L-I called him "Buddy."

Well, he used... he used to meow at me

from my fire escape.

Oh...

Yeah, I-I'd open the window

and he'd come curl up on the couch

and we'd watch Animal Planet together.

That was his favorite!

Well, I-l am so sorry if I was insensitive before.

It was just that I thought he was human.

We all did.

I can't believe he's gone.

What-what happened?

What...? Thank you.

It was a tragic accident.

He always liked to sleep by the door, and the other day,

a delivery came while I was out having my-my hair set.

- And... -Which is lovely, by the way.

Oh, thank you.

And, uh, since I was out,

they dropped the package through the mail slot...

- Oh, my... -...and it hit Mr. Pinkus

-square on the head! -Oh, my...

And when I came home, he was just lying there

breathless under this heavy box.

Oh, that is terrible.

And the worst of all...

it was delivered here by mistake!

It was some sort of... atlas.

And-and... and it was addressed

to that man in the building that nobody likes.

Um... what's his name?

Um... John... John Becker.

- I hate that guy. -Yeah.

May I ask... the atlas-- do you still have it?