Original subtitles

[♪♪♪]

[WHISTLING]

- Hi, George. You're in good spirits today.

- I just hung up a new birdhouse in the elm tree.

Soon Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird will move in

and make that house a home.

- Well, I hate to bring you down, George.

But I just saw two sparrows eyeing that place.

- Sparrows? Where's my shotgun?

- Relax, George. I don't think they're moving in.

I think they're a couple of, you know, lookie-loos.

- Salaam, sultan and sultana.

My Joanna, don't we look sheikh?

- Thank you, Michael.

I can never get enough of your Arabic wit.

[BABY CRYING]

- There, there.

Little Stephy-wephy was just hungry, wasn't oo?

- Nay-nay, Mommy dearest, we agreed not to babble

in baby talk like other parents.

Okay, Cupper-wuppers?

- Of course, Mikey-ikey.

- Dicky's getting sicky.

- Hello, hello. - Stephanie!

- Stephanie, darling. - Darling!

- Libby, darling.

Scooter, darling.

Oh! What a darling surprise.

- You're the one who's full of surprises, pet.

We were jetting in from Berlin,

big bash at the Wall, don't you know,

when Ken and Anastasia DuPont told us of the blessed event.

Really, dear? We never got an announcement.

- Funny, I thought I sent one to everyone who mattered.

- Water under the yacht.

Libby, you remember old Dick.

- Of course. Who could ever forget dear Richard?

We met in New York at that society thing

for one of those causes.

And this must be your--

- Inn.

We call it an inn.

And this is--this is Joanna. We call it a wife.

- How do you do?

- Hello.

- My, what an unusual sweater.

But I suppose there's not a lot

to choose from up here, is there?

- My wardrobe has suffered so since my loom broke down.

- You must be the baby's father.

- No. No. Michael is the father.

At least that's what Stephanie's led us to believe.

- That's George, the handyman.

This is my Michael.

- Howdy doody, Lib and Scootie.

- Backwards banter, how I love it.

- Jumping Gibralter, what a rock.

- Isn't it huge though?

Did you happen to notice my little bauble?

- Yes, and I'm so worried.

I can't imagine how you'll ever get it off

over those enormous knuckles.

- I don't plan to take it off, sweetsie.

It's my wedding ring.

- Why Scooter, so you actually married our Libby,

or should I say the rowing team's Libby?

- This must be your baby.

She's just darling.

Too bad about her hair.

I'm sure she'll grow some eventually.

- Well, let's hope it'll be on her little head

and not on her chinny-chin-chin.

- By the way, you'd never know it to look at me,

but Scooter and I have had a baby too, haven't we?

- Well, you did all the grunt work, precious.

[LAUGHING]

- Now, now, where is our little heiress, yes?

[WHISTLING]

- Her name is Tiffany. Isn't she just perfect?

- Well, she's a little zaftig.

- George, I-I think Libby w-was talking about th-the baby.

- Oh, oh! I apologize for that zaftig remark.

/

- Richard and wife, isn't Tiffy the most beautiful

little girl you've ever seen?

- You're expected to say yes.

- Yes.

Uh, no.

Well, uh, sh-she's certainly, definitely on my top-two list.

- You're putting Tiffany in the same league

with that little bald girl?

- Well, thanks for stopping by.

- Oh no, we'll be staying, old girl, yes,

we'd like two rooms, please.

One for Libby, myself, and child,

and one for Mrs. Butterworth.

- Mrs. Butterworth?

I love your maple syrup.

- I've never heard that one before.

- Come on Stephanie, grab their bags

and we'll show them to their room.

- Oh Scooter, isn't this delicious?

Stephanie will be our own personal slave girl.

[LAUGHING]

- Slave girl, how dare she?

Michael, carry their bags up.

- Yes, master.

[BABY GURGLES]

- Stephanie, I had no idea

you were so good at menial tasks.

If you ever need a job, Scooter could find you something

in one of our fast food restaurants.

Perhaps the position at the drive-by window.

- Well thanks anyway,

but this is really just kind of a hobby.

- Certainly seems that way to me.

- Now be sure to treat Mrs. Butterworth well.

She's used to having excellent service at home.

- Well, then she should get back there

as soon as possible.

[BABY CRYING]

- Your baby is a fussy little one, isn't she?

- Well, maybe it's just the scent

of rancid perfume in the air.

- Steph, I hate to eat it and beat it,

but I really should trot over to the station for a tad.

- Michael is general manager of WPIV.

And our little Stephy owns the station.

- Really?

Our little Tiffany doesn't need to work.

- Well, our Stephy doesn't need to work either.

She just enjoys the pleasure she gets

out of pushing people around.

I must admit your Tiffany is pretty...considering.

- Cattiness looks so ugly on you, Stephanie.

So, does most of her wardrobe.

But I understand your dilemma.

Your baby could never be Tiffany's equal,

because her father isn't a blueblood.

- Well! I may not be officially blueblooded,

but I strongly believe I'm as snobby as the next man.

- Once a mongrel, always a mongrel.

Come along, Scooter.

Dear George promised we could watch him

fix something.

- It's a shame we didn't bring that damn cat of yours along.

Care to join us, dear Richard?

George is bound to be good for a yuk.

- I'm pretty much yukked up for the day.

- Michael, do you think that it's possible

that baby Steph isn't as perfect as Tiffany?

- Because Tiffany was all quiet on the Stratford front

while little Stephy was the kid on the River Cry?

- You can't compare babies.

They're both perfect in their own ways.

- Leave it to Joanna to try to soothe us

with a sunny observation.

Okay, what ways?

- Don't ask me, I might slip and say something sunny.

- Well, uh, you know, Tiffany has, uh, you know,

lots of curly hair and--and adorable dimples

and the longest eye-eyelashes.

And baby--baby Steph has a-a-a chin.

- Every baby has a chin.

- Yeah, but not that pronounced.

- Michael, Tiffany does have bigger dimples.

- And gobs and gobs of goldilocks.

[BABY CRYING]

- Face it, Michael, our perfect baby's bald and bitchy.

- Noticing anything nouveau about our babe in tow?

- Oh my, look at all the hair she's grown

in the last two hours.

- Keep it under your hats, cats, but those follicles are faux.

It's a tiny toupee.

It's amazingly lifelike, don't you think?

- It kind of reminds me of a drooling Ted Koppel.

- See, I told you we should have gone with the Deborah Norville.

- Oh, what's the use? We can't even fool these fops.

It's not fair, there is a flaw in my ointment.

- Oh Michael, we made a terrible mistake.

We married for love.

- Oh, stupid, stupid Cupid.

- There's nothing wrong with marrying for love.

Look at us.

- Oh, stupid, stupid Cupid.

- You realize what this means? - Yes, Michael.

- There's only one thing left to do.

- Of course, Michael. - Little Steph must never know.

- I understand, Michael.

- Then it's agreed?

- Absolutely, Michael.

- Would--would you mind telling me

what--what the hell you're talking about?

- Open up your ears, Dick.

We're getting a divorce.

- Goodbye, Stephanie.

- Goodbye, Michael.

- Michael, Michael, freeze!

- You don't have to be so dramatic, Dick Olivier.

A simple "Wait a sec" would have sufficed.

- What are you doing?

- Don't you listen to us when we're hysterical?

We're getting a divorce.

I'll try to find a nice lawyer, Steph.

- I will too.

- This is unbelievable.

- That we could find two nice lawyers?

Justice JoJo's right.

We'll settle out of court, Cuppers. You take everything.

- Oh Michael, I couldn't.

What would I do with all your Family Circle magazines?

- Good point, pumpkin.

You take the cars, furniture, stocks and bonds.

I'll take the mags and we'll split the compact disks,

Simon for you, Garfunkel for me?

- Deal.

Oh Michael, our marriage is slip-sliding away.

- I guess now there are 51 ways to leave your lover.

- Where will you be moving so I can forward your mail?

- New York. - Oh no!

Baby Steph and I will be going there

to shop sometimes. We don't want to run into you.

- How about Chicago? - That'll be fine.

Nobody shops in Chicago.

- Th-That cinches it.

A-Are you two o-out of your minds?

I mean, don't you want to see your little girl grow up?

- Hm, that'd be nice. Maybe Chicago's too far.

Is there a state that borders Vermont?

- No. No, we're surrounded by water.

- Then I'll rent a houseboat off the coast of Vermont

and I'll get a job at an offshore TV station.

Farewell, my former wife.

I'd ask for a lock of our baby's hair,

but thanks to my dorky DNA, she doesn't have any.

- She's whimpering. I guess, you know,

one of us should say something.

- Well, you know me and my sunny disposish.

I'd probably just make matters worse by cheering her up.

- Stephanie, we, uh, we n-need to talk.

- Oh, I know what you're thinking,

that even though I'm incredibly attractive

as a single mother, I'll never get a date.

- No, that wasn't exactly what-- - Well, get this straight.

My eternal love for Michael shall never die,

and I swear by all that's holy that I shall never remarry.

Why, do you know someone?

- Look, I-I'm about to tell you one of m-my long-winded stories.

Maybe you better sit down.

- Maybe I better lie down.

- Well, when--when I was-- when I was a-a boy,

I had--I had a problem similar to yours.

I didn't, you know, I didn't have a baby, of course,

but I did have a, uh, I had a guppy.

See, Ethel was a-a purebred and--and very beautiful.

- Like me?

- Scalier.

A-Anyway, Ethel was in love with this other guppy, Maurice.

- Oh, a French guppy.

- Well, French Canadian.

Anyway, they had lots and lots of--of babies.

All the other guppies i-in the tank

used to laugh at Ethel and Maurice's kids.

- Why? Did they wear funny hats?

- No. See, fish--fish don't believe in sight gags.

- Dick, is this story going anywhere?

- It--it must be.

Oh, I-I've got it.

Ethel and Maurice loved their children so much,

they didn't care if they were the laughingstock of the tank.

They loved each other and they loved their babies,

so much so that they finally, um...ate them.

- Eww.

But you know, Ethel and Maurice are a lot like Michael and me.

- They--they are?

- Except for their names and their diet.

It's amazing how you paralleled the upheaval in a fish tank

to the turmoil in my family life.

- Well, you know, that's--that's what I do.

- And nobody does it better. Thanks, Dick.

- I am good.

Maybe I'll write a book of fish fables.

Ethel would have wanted it that way.

- And Ethel and Maurice had lots and lots of kids,

or snacks as they turned out to be.

- Egads, the cads!

It is a fish-eat-fish world.

What's the drift of this icky tale?

- Well, in his morbid, long-winded way,

Dick was trying to say

that fish can be good role models.

- They ate their children.

I would never do such a thing to baby Steph.

I mean, though on occasion I may have said

I'd like to eat her up, I would never eat her up.

- Well, what's gotten into Dick?

He's losing touch with reality.

I only know that I don't want you to go.

- I'm sorry Steph,

but for our sullied seedling's sake,

this papa's got to be a rolling stone.

[BABY BABBLES]

- Did I just hear my micro muffin call me Dada?

- No Michael, it was ga-ga.

- Oh.

[BABY BABBLES]

- Michael, that time I think she did say Dada.

- Really? - [BABY BABBLES]

- Yes, she's saying Dada.

- Mia bambina sprechen ze me namen.

- She doesn't want you to go either.

- Oh, double family whammy,

my mainspring and my offspring want me to stay.

- See, she doesn't care about your stupid old blood!

- Oh Steph, you realize what this means?

I can paste my head back into the family photos.

- Dick, could Scooter and Libby be making fun of me?

They seem to laugh at everything I do.

- Well, they're probably, you know,

laughing with you, George, not laughing at you.

- But I wasn't laughing.

- Then they're laughing at you.

- What were you doing, George?

- Well, I was putting up a "No Sparrows Allowed" sign

in the new birdhouse, and a dog came by

chasing a cat, and knocked over the ladder.

I tried to grab onto a branch

but there was a beehive attached to it.

The bees started stinging me so I let go

and fell into a bramble bush.

- Well, you don't look any worse for wear.

- Oh, yeah? Every inch of my body

is covered with bloody welts and scratches.

- You want to see? - No.

No thank you.

I'm still trying to get over the image of your body

after you were trampled by that cow.

- Libby called me a rube.

What is that exactly?

- George, it's a derogatory term for a person from a small town.

- Well, I may be a hick and I've been called bumpkin,

and once or twice I came running

when someone yelled "Hey, yokel."

But it really galls me when a la-dee-da snotnose

labels George Utley a rube.

- Harken home, boys.

We come bearing nifty news.

- We've decided to stay together.

- So--so my story worked?

- Gulping guppies, Dickers, you should be filleted

for that fish fable.

- It was baby Steph who talked us into reconciling.

- Your five-month-old spoke to you?

- Yeah, she said, "Dada, whatever you do,

please don't go."

- Ah, there you are, George.

George, we were wondering if you'd care to motor down

to the Hamptons for one of our functions.

You'd be the guest of honor.

- It'll be loads of fun.

We call it a roast.

- No, thank you.

Maybe when you come up again, I could invite you

to one of our functions.

We call it a tar and feather.

- Oh Scooter, what a darling threesome they make,

just like a little peasant family.

- Save your insults for your servants, Libby.

Michael may not be blueblooded,

but we're together and we're happy.

- That's what our two chefs Christopher and Jeremy

keep telling us.

[CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]

- Hi, I'm Larry.

This is my brother, Darryl,

and this is my other brother, Darryl.

- Larry.

- Scoots.

- Lovely to see you again, dear Lawrence.

I believe the last time was at Leona's

"I'm Just Wild About Harry and Larry" bash.

- That was some soiree.

We dropped by to offer our congratulations

on the arrival of your heir.

And to see whether you require our expert childcare services.

- Thank you, Lawrence, but our little Tiffany

is upstairs in very capable, albeit gnarled, hands.

- Well then, we'll bid our adieux

and return to our genetic experiments.

Darryl here is attempting to cross a porcupine

with a pussycat.

Alack, the offspring tend to clean theirselves to death.

Oh Scooter, do say hello to your mom for us.

Our floors ain't been the same

since she stopped scrubbing them.

- Pardon?

- Apparently, Scooter's humility prevented him

from bragging about his mother's proficiency as a scrub woman.

- Your mother was a scrub woman?

- Well, before she met my stepfather,

we were a mite cash poor, so she

- That's quite enough, Scooter.

- No, it's not.

- So, Scooter, I guess this means

you're not a full-blood blueblood.

- Well actually strictly speaking...

- I've never been so humiliated in my life.

- Well, hopefully you'll have plenty of other chances.

- Don't get so high and mighty with me, pet,

lest you forget your grandfather

sold used pickup trucks in Scranton.

- They were not pickup trucks.

They were recreational vehicles.

- Oh, this is so delicious.

- I'm going upstairs to pack.

Come along, Bernie.

- Oh, well, we're going to start using our real names

are we now, Shirley?

[SCREAMING]

- Keep a cot warm for me, dear chum.

I may be bunking in for a while.

- It appears I have just performed the function

of deus ex machina in this little drama.

In Greek theater, the deus ex machina

was raised and lowered on a rope

while the chorus explained the offstage action.

Well, since our chorus is relatively silent,

and our rope is holding up Darryl's pants,

we'll settle for an exit upstage center.

[APPLAUSE]

- Oh Michael, to think we almost let Bernie and Shirley

break up our happy home.

- I'm reminded of the immortal words of Toni Tennille

when she warbled, "Love, love will keep us together."

- Come, my captain, let us celebrate with a bottle

of Dick and Joanna's finest champagne.

- Or maybe Dick and Joanna's finest tap water.

[BABY TALKING]

- Dick.

- Dick! Baby Steph called me Dick!

I wonder what she wants.

[♪♪♪]

- Meow.