Original subtitles

(Transcribed by TurboScribe. Go Unlimited to remove this message.) 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 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?

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, 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?

From the fifth floor.

Elderly, gray hair, always wears lots of bright

orange lipstick, unfortunately not all on her lips.

I've never heard of her.

So what killed the old bat?

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

That was cold.

How'd the old bat pass?

Mrs. Bernstein's fine.

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

died.

Never heard of him either.

I can't believe it.

I've 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 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 when you're 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.

Oh, 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.

Hey, Jake.

Hey.

What's wrong with you?

Well, Amanda and I got into a fight,

and I 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 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 up your butt once

in a while, they wouldn't bother you.

Is that Mr. Porter again?

Because 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.

No, it's Lewis's mother's recipe, and there's no

bakery in town that uses her secret ingredient,

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-de-doo.

Isn't it 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 gonna 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.

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.

This is silly.

Why don't you talk to her?

Tell her you want to make up.

I can't do that.

You know how it works.

Whoever talks first loses.

Oh.

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.

I guess it's worth a try.

Come on.

Okay.

Um, dear Amanda, 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, 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 your funeral?

So that when the time comes, a 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?

News flash.

She won't be eating anything.

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

I gotta make a couple of calls.

Then I gotta shoot over to Queens for

an Irish wig.

Hey, close casket.

Open bar.

Hey, Chris, coffee, please.

And, uh, donuts half price, yeah?

Not until 4.

Uh-huh, just coffee.

Jake, just let me take care of the

big spender, and I'll get right on your

letter.

What letter?

Well, Chris has helped 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 damn 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.

Big difference.

I charge them.

Okay, Mr. Engles, 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 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!

A 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'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 out

with 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-I don't believe this.

She's helping some lady in the building, then

Jake, and now you.

W-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?

Oh, I got a 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?

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 don't think I'm gonna need

that letter.

Oh?

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.

I-I'm...

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.

And I better go home and check.

I might've just had break-up sex.

Ma.

Ma.

Calm down.

I said I wasn't settled on serving Cajun

food.

Well, it kind of will be over your

dead body.

Look, I-I'll call you back.

Serves me right.

I should've never run this whole funeral thing

by her in the first place.

So now she's upset?

No, now she's involved.

Suddenly Cajun isn't too spicy and barbecue's out

because you want it 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...

There 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.

Come on, let me clean it up.

Ah, no, no, no.

You're in a hurry.

I'll get it.

She'll be happy to get it.

Well, thank you.

I'll just stop at a bakery on the

way home and buy another cheesecake.

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

moth balls and kugel.

I doubt you'll be cramped.

She's got a big apartment.

She lives in 5C.

5C?

The rent-controlled two-bedroom with seven 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.

You know what?

Maybe I will pop up and pay my

respects.

Very nice, John.

Why don't you just go up with the

tape measure?

Oh, 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. Brillstein?

Uh, Bernstein.

Bernstein?

Um, I just, uh, I came up from

downstairs.

I just want to say how sorry I

am about your loss.

May I ask, is that original crown molding?

I really don't know.

Um, but, you know, thank you, dear.

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...

Excuse me.

The terrace, does it get a lot of

shade?

John, don't you have anything else to say

to Mrs. Bernstein?

Well, yes, of course I do.

Look, I am so sorry.

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.

Well, uh, we're there, you know, ashes to

ashes, circle of life and all of that.

What would you say your average electric bill

is?

Mini hot dogs.

A little pedestrian, yet trading the company.

Uh, may we pay our respects to Mr.

Pincus?

Oh, of course.

Yes, he's over there.

Ah.

Excuse me.

Wow.

This place is much bigger than I thought.

That is one tiny casket.

Is that all of Mr. Pincus?

I'm afraid so.

Wow, 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.

Maybe it was all that people food.

People food?

Breed?

He was a tabby.

A cat?

Oh.

Did you hear that, Chris?

Mr. Pincus was a cat.

You're kidding.

A cat.

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

I do.

No, shut up!

That makes you feel any better, the desserts?

Fabulous.

I mean, personally, I'm a little deflamed, but,

you know, that's just me.

This could be my imagination, but you don't

seem all that happy.

Let me just tell you something.

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, because I hear there's

a hamster in 4B on its last legs.

Screw you.

Yeah, well, only if it would make you

happy.

Sorry about pinkish, but the food, delish.

Uh, actually, you know what?

I better take off.

Oh, you know, Mr. Pinkus would have loved

all this.

He was my constant companion for almost 20

years.

Everywhere I look, I still see his sweet

little face.

Yes, his fuzzy head.

His sparkling eye.

Oh, whoa.

That one-eyed cat with the orange spot

above its tail, that's Mr. Pinkus?

Oh, you knew him?

Well, yes.

He was my friend.

I called him Buddy.

But he used to meow at me from

my fire escape.

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.

Oh, I 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 happened?

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 hair set.

Which is lovely, by the way.

Thank you.

And since I was out, they dropped the

package through the mail slot, and it hit

Mr. Pinkus square on the head.

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 it was addressed to that man in

the building that nobody likes.

What's his name?

John?

John Becker.

I hate that guy.

May I ask, the atlas, do you still

have it?