Original subtitles

Hey, Mom.

Oh, Kelly, something horrible has happened.

Okay, don't worry, Mom. I'm gonna call 911.

Oh, my God, I forgot the number. Oh, God!

Oh, God. Oh, God.

Oh, Kelly, it's okay.

It's just that none of my shows are on. Look.

I turn to Oprah, and I get Monster Truckin'.

I turn to Phil, and it's midget wrestling.

And look, I turn to Richard Bey and it's a wet T-shirt contest.

Oh, wait a second. That is Richard Bey.

Who could have done this to me?

Hi, Peg.

How was Oprah?

Oprah wasn't on today, Al.

And she won't be on tomorrow either, Peg.

Why? Because I had the cable company take her off. See?

The "Guy Package"?

With femme block.

See, it's a new service they offer men...

...and some female tennis players...

...who are tired of watching girlie crap.

See, Peg, it's my week off...

...and I want to spend it watching quality TV.

You mean like monster movies, jiggly shows and The Three Stooges?

Certainly.

And now, the exciting conclusion...

...of the Centerfold Weed-Whacker Murders, on The Guy Channel.

That's it. I'm going over to Marcie's.

Tell her I said:

God, Daddy, you can really be insensitive sometimes.

I know. Keep it down, pumpkin.

This is where the camp counselor sprains her knee running away from the lizard king.

She doesn't have any bandages so she has to cut strips...

...from her already too short skirt.

Now, this is the part I gotta ask you to leave, pumpkin.

-Guy package, Dad? -With femme block, son.

Kelly, guess what?

I've been chosen to be in a research study about human behavior.

So where do you fit in?

Well, unlike you, in the front seat of a car.

That's another story.

The point is, they're paying me 300 bucks...

...which should earn me first-class passage on the old Amber airlines.

Yeah, like she's really knocking down the door...

...to see you again after your little movie-theater-popcorn trick.

Hi, Bud.

-Hi, Kelly. -Hi, Amber, what's up?

Your mom needs her TV Guide.

She says it's in the room of broken promises.

That would be in her bedroom. Okay.

Amber, my sweet.

It has come to my attention I may have been a bit forward with you in the past.

You mean like when you grabbed my shirt and went:

Yeah.

And I was thinking that maybe I could make it up to you this weekend.

Your pants or mine?

You're amazing. Where do you learn this kind of behavior?

No, you can't hide under the tree stump.

He can burrow.

Don't you see? He's half mole!

Well, anyway. For your information...

...a woman is more than a loose assortment of body parts...

...put here for your entertainment.

We have minds too.

Hey, guys. This is so funny.

What a great idea. Look.

Beverly Hills, 90,210.

They must be really dumb.

That far in the future they're still in high school.

Look, Amber. I do respect your mind.

I'd just respect it even more if it would bounce gently when you walk.

Smooth.

Kelly, what am I missing?

Why don't we make this quicker and talk about what you've got.

-Okay. Well, then, what have I got? -Nothing. See how quick that was?

Oh, God.

Save me, Al.

I walk in the door after a hard day of billiards and what do I see?

Peggy and Marcie sitting on the couch watching, on Oprah...

..."Women Who Support Men."

Where do they find these losers?

-You got anything to eat? -Check the traps.

Hey, Al, you know, I've always been meaning to ask you...

...what does this switch do?

I don't know. Get over here and sit down.

-That's your problem. -What?

You don't know how to relax.

What the hell does that switch do?

Jefferson?

See what happens when you pull this blue wire.

Two-point-six billion men on the planet and we didn't marry any of them.

Come on, Al. Call an electrician.

I will not.

Just because someone calls himself an electrician...

...doesn't mean he knows any more about electricity than the average guy.

Just as I thought.

Mr. Bundy, I'm Sandy.

Welcome to our study on human sexuality.

We're exploring your deepest desires...

...in our cybersex experiment.

We are?

Well, if that's okay.

Because some people are shy and--

Aren't we an eager beaver.

Now, I have something for you to put on.

Well, no need. I'm already wearing one.

I think we're a tad confused, Bud.

You see, you will be wearing this as you enter a world of virtual reality...

...and based on your answers to our survey...

...we will create your ideal sexual experience.

I see. I see.

So technically speaking, who will I be boinking?

Your image of the perfect mate.

That shouldn't be a problem.

But who's gonna hold the magazine?

Okay, one more wire and we'll be all hooked up.

We're hooked up.

This is Dr. Kessler. He created this experiment.

Dr. Kessler, this is Bud Bundy.

Look, Dr. Kessler, I don't mean to doubt...

...your little pleasure pouch here. But, see, you're dealing with a guy...

...who's had the real thing more times than there are stars in the sky.

Well, there are more than four stars in the sky, Mr. Bundy.

Once you get away from the city and you can....

We'll monitor his vital signs from the next room.

I have a feeling it could get ugly in here.

Doc, the point is...

...nothing can duplicate the real thing.

I mean, there's not a machine that can actually re-create--

Excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

Oh, big surprise. I'm alone.

My perfect mate is myself.

Last time I tell the truth on a sex survey.

-Amber? -Surprised to see me...

-...in your fantasy, Bud? -No.

No, not at all.

I mean, it is my fantasy.

So now what do we do?

We have sex.

We do?

You mean just like that?

None of that pretending to respect you or other junk...

...women devote entire magazines to?

Nope.

Do with me what you will.

Oh, I recognize this. It's foreplay.

Either that or he has a spastic colon.

Oh, baby, what you do.

Yeah, it's his colon.

Let's get a second opinion.

Hey, Bruno.

What does this look like to you?

Looks like I'm gonna need a bigger mop.

-Jefferson? -Yeah?

See what happens when I do this:

Good. So we got power upstairs.

You know, I bet we could teach them to smoke cigars and ride tricycles.

Al, are you ready to call an electrician?

I will not. I'm gonna find out what this darn switch does...

...if it kills me and Jefferson.

Our secret weapon.

Now we'll get to the bottom of this, Peg.

Let's do it.

Bob Rooney? He's a butcher.

Hence the genius of it.

You see, he owns the entire Time Life series on household wiring.

Actually, Al, I don't have those anymore.

My wife made me send them back.

Not before you read them in the john, right?

Do you know me, or what?

Okay.

-Tell us where the circuit box is. -Outside.

Thank God for Bob Rooney.

We could have been inside for days.

Guys, please call an electrician.

We will not!

I don't know.

Maybe I was too hard on Bud the other day.

I mean, he is sort of cute, don't you think?

Well, yeah, in a crypt-keeper kind of a way.

Look, Amber, I know that he really likes you.

Well, maybe I should give him a break.

Oh, hi, Bud.

I've been thinking about your invitation, and I'm free Friday.

Oh, good. Good.

You can spend it hanging with Mr. Cooper.

As for me, I'm kind of busy.

I'll see you tomorrow.

-In your dreams. -Yeah, you betcha.

Al, there is not an eyebrow left among you.

-Please call someone. -I will not.

All we have to do, Peg, is find out where the last few of these wires go...

...and I can start my vacation anew.

What about Bob Rooney? You know, he's been missing for two days.

Bob Rooney's not missing.

-Right, Bob Rooney? -Right, Al.

He's in the wall.

-He is stuck in our house, Al. -Like he's the only one.

Hey, good news, Al. Griff thinks he's traced the problem. Here.

-Hold this dead wire while we go to the basement. -Alrighty.

Odd.

I see my entire life flashing before my eyes.

And that only happens right before--

Hey, Daddy, we need to talk.

What's that smell?

Some hair. Some skin.

-What's up? -It's Bud, Dad.

He hasn't showered in four days.

He disappears at night and he has no interest in the opposite sex anymore.

And the problem is?

Daddy, he's like that and he's not even married.

Pumpkin...

...if there was something up with Bud don't you think I would know it?

Son, are you okay?

Oh, yeah.

See? Father always knows best.

Now, excuse me. There's two guys in the basement I've gotta kill.

Hey, Bud. What's in the box?

Just some old things I don't need anymore.

Your porno magazines and your rubber dolls.

Okay, Bud, I don't understand.

First you blow off Amber.

The only woman who's ever touched you without saying, "Excuse me, sonny."

And now this?

Look, Kelly. I don't need Amber, okay. I have her.

Dr. Kessler introduced me to cybersex...

...and I can create Amber any time I want.

But she's not the real Amber.

She's better.

She does what I want, whenever I want it.

This is the breakthrough men have been waiting for since the beginning of time.

You know what? It looks like you and your cross-legged...

..."let's talk," gift-expecting...

...ordering-the-most-expensive-thing- on-the-menu, "what about me?"...

...bimbo sapiens are about to be made obsolete.

Amber, yes.

Excuse me.

Aren't you the world-famous Dr. Keebler?

Kessler.

And you are?

Dr. Von Bundy. I specialize in nuclear dentistry.

I've never heard of that department.

Well, it's a top-secret program between the CIA and Crest...

...but, anyway, enough about me.

Tell me about your work.

Well, I first began my sexual-behavior studies...

...10 years ago on the lower primates.

That's these disks here.

With my more recent experiments I've moved up the evolutionary ladder.

Somewhat.

I see. Fascinating.

So scientifically speaking:

Yes, well, my goal is to prove that the human male's psycho-sexual needs...

...can be fully satisfied with my machine.

Thereby eliminating the embarrassment of rejection.

Do you really think that you can make this obsolete?

Would you care to discuss this over a moonlit stroll?

But I have a patient...

...who is now on autopilot.

Yes.

That's the spot.

You know what I like.

You bet I do.

Hey, what happened?

Enjoy, big boy.

Oh, God! Oh, God!

Oh, God! Oh, God!

Good going, Al. You have wrecked the house...

...Jefferson and Griff now look like fried green tomatoes...

...and you still don't know where that switch goes.

Have you anything at all to say for yourself?

Al...

...bake me.

-Good night, kids. -Good night.

-Good night, Bob Rooney. -Night, Al.

You shake it. Yeah, you shake it, baby.

That's the Bud I remember. Good job, Kelly.

Yeah, well, I can't take all the credit.

Yeah, yeah, you. Yeah, you're the one. Yeah.

That's it.

You shake that booty, baby.

You know what I like.

Al, you better not be fooling with that switch again.

I'm not, pookie.

What the hell does this thing do?

Man, I gotta find out where the switch to this light is.