Original subtitles

When my dad came home from work,

he wanted to find an orderly, sensible universe.

What are you jackanapes up to?

We're emptying sugar straws and filling them

with our secret formula to make a big firecracker.

All right. You be careful. Eat too much of that candy,

you'll spoil your supper.

My brothers and I spent a big part

of our early adolescence trying to make things go boom.

This is a traditional activity for mischievous boys,

going all the way back to God and the Big Bang.

You're just gonna blow it up plain?

You're not gonna shove it in a doll or in a dead lizard?

What ever happened to showmanship?

Hmm.

That... That's it?

Ugh. It smells like seat noises.

This is more disappointing than when Kathy Petrillo

finally wore a tube top.

Should we try it again?

- Yeah! - Yeah!

Okay, add more paprika and...

Peg. There's someone else's kid in here.

- Just a minute! - Oh, hi, Dad.

This is Duncan.

Pat's calling it "Duncan."

- Hi, Mike. - It called me "Mike."

- Hi, hon. - Hey.

I got to fix this shade. It's driving me to distraction.

One of our darling monsters messed up this lamp.

Which monster?

The only one who hasn't denied it so far is the baby,

but as soon as he learns to talk, he'll lie to me, too.

- What's going on with this thing here? - Pat made a friend.

It's a nightmare.

Dinner in a minute.

Listen, I kind of want to watch the news, so...

We want to see how this ends.

Yeah, well, it ends with me watching the news.

- But, Dad... - As a Catholic child in the 1970s,

you weren't really considered a person with any rights

unless you were in the womb or over the age of eighteen.

Dinner!

Oh, Duncan, your parents are still coming to get you, right?

I guess.

Oh.

Do we need to invite him to dinner?

Well, it would be rude to eat in front of him.

You should maybe go wait for them on the curb.

Mike. The porch is fine.

Oh, thank God.

- Hi. - We are so sorry we're late.

- I feel terrible. - That's all right.

Please forgive us for being so thoughtless, Duncan.

We are very, very sorry.

- That's okay. - No. No, it's not.

There's absolutely no excuse.

You know how much we love you.

We love you so very much.

More than chocolate. More than rainbows.

We're the Ridgewoods.

- So sorry for any trouble. - Oh, that one's meant for us.

Yes.

Great to meet you folks.

Uh, it's kind of a mealtime around here, so...

- Thank you so much, - Oh.

but we can't stay.

We're making homemade pizzas tonight,

and Duncan is picking all the toppings.

Aren't you, buddy?

- That sounds fun. - Okay, well, then.

- Thank you. - Safe trip home.

I assume Duncan will be driving.

Enjoy your jelly bean

- and cotton candy pizza, ya morons. - Yeah.

"Oh, I love you so much, Duncan."

"More than the moon and the stars."

Am I missing something? Duncan wasn't that great.

I could throw a rock in a park

and hit ten kids better than him.

I'm not really sure what we're laughing at here.

The Ridgewoods. Keep up.

To me, it sounded like they really do love their child.

They're just trying to make up for naming him Duncan.

What a dumb name.

- I thought he was your friend. - Best friend.

Maybe they take it a little far, but it's not bad

for children to know that they're loved.

I recently read an article...

Oh, for cripes' sake.

And it said that children with parents who communicate

their feelings do better in school and in business

just from hearing the words "I love you."

- Oh, come on. - Words are idiotic.

People say words all day long. Actions are what count.

- Saying "I love you" is an action. - Saying "shut up" is an action.

Oh, I communicate my feelings to you kids all the time.

I've been very clear how I feel about whichever miscreant

messed with my lamp.

Those are all negative feelings.

What if I got hit by a bus,

and you never told me you loved me?

I don't know

how it would save you from the bus, but fine.

I love you.

- What about me? - Do you love me, too?

- I want an "I love you." - Okay, see?

See what you started? You tell one kid you love them,

- suddenly they all want to be loved. - Mm-hmm.

See, this way when it blows up,

it will leave a zesty, lemony smell.

People are always complaining about the stench of war.

If this works, we can sell it to the Pentagon.

I'm selling it to whichever country's army pays the most.

Capitalism... it's what we're fighting to protect.

Come on. Hurry! Go, go, go!

You started without me?

Sorry, there's an arms race.

Yeah, we have to perfect this before the Commies do.

- Go check it. - Why do I have to check it?

You just complained about being left out.

Fine.

- Boom! - Aah!

Holy crab cakes, Joey!

The formula is not going to ignite

if it's soaked in lemon juice.

Another three days of grinding up Alka-Seltzer?

I'd rather live under the yoke of Communism.

Alka-Seltzer is kids' stuff.

Let's crank things up with some serious chemicals.

- Where'd you get that? - The toy store.

If you clowns want to eat before Mass,

it's now or never.

Let go of my Eggo.

Hey, just like the commercial.

Does the commercial end with one brother stabbing

the other brother with a butter knife?

All right. You got two minutes before cutoff.

Catholics aren't supposed to eat for an hour

before receiving holy communion.

The Church doesn't like the idea of Jesus in your belly

sloshing around with your Froot Loops.

So, I thought about what Lawrence said last night,

you know, about expressing my... feelings.

And, well, maybe it's not the stupidest thing I've ever heard.

Thank you?

So, here you go.

Hmm? Happy?

- What's with the order of the names? - And the numbers next to them?

Oh, that's just the order I thought of you

when I asked myself, "Who do I love around here?"

So you're all officially loved

and can now go on to be successful businessmen.

First millionaire owes me a mink coat.

Is it weird that William is number one?

She said the numbers don't mean anything.

Spoken like a true number seven.

This actually makes a lot of sense.

I am especially lovable.

Then why would she put Baby Andy at eight?

You kidding? He drains all of us and brings nothing to the table.

I'd put him at, like, a twelve.

No, okay. Why is Pat higher than me?!

Because I say cute things. I'm... pwa-cwo-shus.

More importantly, how on Earth is Eddie more loved than me?

I practically worship the woman.

Probably weirds her out.

I, on the other hand, play hard to get.

With your mom? Yeah, that's not weird at all.

Time's up! One hour till communion!

Spit out anything you haven't swallowed.

Why am I so low on the list?

For the record, I think it's just fine.

Oh, yeah, you would! You're at the top!

Oh, am I? Huh.

I didn't mean for it to necessarily suggest

that I love some of you more than others.

But, then again, it'd be silly to think a mother

could love all her children exactly the same.

Aww, let's get ready for church, little eight.

I think you may have missed the point

of telling your kids you love them.

It's not supposed to be some death match

where the last kid standing gets a hug.

Nobody's getting a hug.

It's supposed to be unconditional love, Mom.

"Unconditional love"?

Treating everyone the same, no matter what they do?

Sounds like Soviet Russia where every Tom, Dick, and Ivan

gets a potato whether they work for it or not.

So, according to your unconditional deal,

if little Pat were to stab me...

He's not the one I'd watch out for.

...I'm still supposed to hug him after

and say, "Aww, Mommy loves you.

Nice stabbing, Pat."

And here is your potato, comrade.

Look, God's love is the model, right?

And God's love is unconditional.

I don't know what Bible you're reading, pal.

But in mine you've got Sodom, Gomorrah, locusts, floods.

You get on God's bad side, and boom, you are smoted.

Just ask Lot's wife.

Oh, wait. You can't 'cause she's a salt lick.

Mom, I should be at the top!

I love you more than anybody.

And seriously, Pat over me?

Mommy, you're bootiful.

He can say "beautiful."

I've heard him say it a million times!

The kid knows how to play the game.

I endorse the list. Excellent work, Mom.

Another hole in one.

Oh, really?

I bet you wouldn't be at the top of the list

if Mom knew that you were the one that broke

the ceiling lamp in the dining room!

Which she does now.

The whole floor is hot lava.

And to keep you honest, I threw down some tacks.

Oh, no, the lava spread to the table!

It's not gonna get me!

Ow! Ow, ow, ow! Tacks!

- Thanks a lot, snitch! - Yeah, way to pull a "Frank."

- I take that as a compliment. - I don't.

Thank you for the information, Timmy.

My little experiment worked.

William, you're paying for a new lamp.

But it's already been fixed!

I'm replacing it anyway. I never liked it.

B-Brilliant scheme, Mom.

Stop sucking up. The list was bogus.

Oh, there's a real list somewhere.

So you did this whole love list thing

so your children would turn on each other?

Pretty smart, huh?

Well, off to church.

Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name...

Turning your children against each other

might seem like questionable parenting.

But a house with eight delinquents needed

a tough cop who played by her own rules.

It's funny we ended up with this lady in the role...

I always pictured Clint Eastwood.

...as we forgive those who trespass against us.

- Forgive this trespasser? - Nope.

And lead us not into temptation...

I said I was sorry.

- ...but deliver us from evil. - Shh!

You know me. I'm not a snitch.

I mean, I just got caught up in the moment.

I'm not talking to you.

If I could take it back, I would.

I feel so bad my stomach's been hurting all day.

Maybe that's God's way of punching you on my behalf.

- ...in joyful hope... - Thank you, Sir.

...for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours...

How long are you gonna hold a grudge?

- ...now and forever. - Now and forever.

The peace of the Lord be with you always.

And also with you.

Let us offer each other the sign of peace.

- Peace be with you. - Peace be with you.

- Peace be with you. - Peace be with you.

Peace be with you.

These chemicals are pretty deadly.

We should wash Mom's flour sifter before we put it back.

Nah, if she sees it's clean, she'll get suspicious.

I thought we were gonna do this together.

Oh, hi, Timmy.

A button fell off my green coat,

and I need it sewn back on.

Why are you telling me?

Because telling you is the same as telling Mom, right?

I love what you've done with your hair, Peggy.

I think your scam has successfully driven

- a wedge between Timmy and William. - They'll get over it.

They'll be out there laughing and throwing hammers

at each other before you know it.

Honey, usually I'm fine watching you torture the kids,

especially during the summer when TV's mostly reruns,

but this thing with the list...

I'm not proud of what I did, Mike,

except a little 'cause it was clever.

- But I got valuable information. - At what cost?

I'd like to think our boys are still gonna be friends

- after we're gone. - We don't go anywhere.

Oh, you mean death? Bring it on.

I've stopped going to funerals, I get so jealous.

You know I got a couple of brothers I don't even talk to.

- I really miss those guys. - You could call them and work it out.

- No, they know what they did! - Right.

Look, I'm just saying that William and Joey

are out back right now, having the time of their lives

making stuff to blow up, and Timmy

doesn't get to be part of it.

Mommy, Mommy, my stomach really hurts.

- It does not. - No, I-I think so.

You're just feeling bad because you and William are fighting.

Yeah. Pick another brother. It's why we had so many.

Oh, my God. He's burning up, Mike.

Feel him.

I'm not gonna touch him. I got to work in the morning.

My folks were always very reluctant

to spend money on doctors.

Mom's first course of action

- was her museum of leftover medicines, - We'll take the fever down.

prescribed over the years by various doctors and vets.

She'd trick us into taking the dog medicine

by hiding it in a treat.

For Mom and Dad to actually bring you to the doctor,

you had to bleed profusely, break a bone, or...

- Or that. - Oh, my goodness!

Okay, then. I'll get the car keys.

Oh, my God.

Pfft, appendicitis...

Timmy said his tummy hurt.

I just figured he wanted attention.

I assumed it was like that month he spoke

like an old prospector.

I hate that something was wrong and I ignored it.

You're a good mom, Peg.

I never said I wasn't. Where's that coming from?

I got eight kids, I'm gonna miss some stuff once in a while.

Oh, hey.

- Hey, buddy. - Mom.

The surgeon will be here shortly.

We're giving your son something to put him under.

- Okay. - You missed the last page of these forms.

You're gonna feel sleepy.

First, I want to tell him something.

Honey, I'm sorry I tricked you into telling on William.

And I really do love you. It's not a trick this time.

- I mean it. - Thanks, Mom.

- Okay. - I love you, too.

Now, don't tell your brothers,

but you've always been my little star.

Aww, I hope you can forgive me.

- I forgive you... - Oh.

...and I'm sorry for what happened to the lamp...

That doesn't matter now. I don't care.

...and the table.

What table?

The table and what happened...

Yeah, yeah. You said that,

but what happened with the table?

- We're ready to take him in. - Keep your shirt on.

You were saying something about a table?

Oh, it was just Joey tried to...

- Uh-huh. - We really should get him into surgery.

What, do you got a hot date?! I'm trying to tell my son I love him!

Now tell me what happened with Joey and the table?

Joey tried to fix the lamp, and he got up on the table.

Yeah?

Bam.

- Bam? - Bam.

Pretty damn good if I say so myself.

Mom will never even...

Ooh! Ow! Ow! Tacks!

- Here! Here, here, here! - Oww!

Take care of that one. He's special.

Who knows what other secrets he's got

in that beautiful head of his?

We're home!

Why do I always warn them?

- Is Timmy okay? - He's fine.

He has to spend another night or two in the hospital.

Poor guy. By "poor guy," I mean me.

I'm now poor.

Let's have a little look-see.

The kid was doped up, Peggy. The... table looks fine.

Looks can be deceiving, like our children.

Aha!

Hmm.

Joey putting his D-plus in woodshop to good use.

Oh, my beautiful table.

It's from that store on the same block as the Ethan Allen.

Oh, wait till I get ahold of Joey.

Honey, we might have to let this one go.

No way. We never let things go.

That's what I like most about us.

If we bust Joey, he'll know who told you,

and then both William and Joey are hating Timmy's guts.

He just lost some guts, so there's less of him to hate.

There might be a better way to handle this...

if you'll trust me.

You will still get to crush Joey.

And they say fathers don't get it, but you do.

I want these boys staying together

because there is nothing more important

- than the bond between... - Oh, for heaven's sakes,

- just call your brothers. - They have phones,

they know where to find me!

Did you feel homesick at the hospital?

Well, all they served was heated-up frozen food,

so that part felt like home.

I made you a special dessert.

- Festive, Peg. - Okay?

For the three days you were in the hospital,

I collected all those Jell-O cups you didn't eat.

And the ones from that kid next to you

who was eating out of a tube.

We're all glad you're okay, buddy.

- Yes, we are. - You're talking to me again?

Well, after you squealed on me, I wished you would die.

And then you almost did.

It scared me that I might have power over life and death.

Here, William, have my Jell-O.

Thanks.

I mean, I wouldn't want to be God.

I'm too indecisive.

Or maybe I would. I don't know.

- Who on Earth? - That will be a friend of mine.

I invited him to stop by for dessert.

- Dad has friends? - I wouldn't take him literally.

Well, he's having dessert with us,

so we should all be gracious.

And make a dent in the Jell-O before this stooge

starts hoggin' it down.

Everyone, this is Mr. Young. My friend from work.

See, work-friend not real-friend.

Peg, you've heard me talk about Grover.

- Nice to meet you. - Oh, nice to meet you, too.

Let me get you a chair.

Frank. Leave.

Grover works at the Chemical Engineering Department.

He's kind of a genius, what he does.

Genius?

Well, those terms get thrown around...

by the schools I attended.

- What's in the case? - William, that's rude.

If Mr. Young wants to tell us what's in his weird case

that has us all a little nervous, he will.

Actually, this is a detective kit I put together.

Besides my job, I also fancy myself an amateur sleuth.

- I use chemistry to solve mysteries. - Cool.

So I'm guessing you're a single fella, Grover?

Ah, I'm married to a little lady called forensic science.

Oh. So single?

Yeah. In fact, I'm on my way to a meeting

of my amateur detective club, the Sherlock Home-bodies.

Whoa. Whoa.

Did it just hit you how lame that sounded?

What is it? Have your detective's skills stumbled on something?

I can't answer questions about an open investigation.

Something about this table is not... on the level.

Whoa, you're good.

There's nothing wrong with the table.

Shh! Let the man do his hobby.

Oh, dear.

Ohh. This table has been broken!

Nobody leave this room.

- May I be excused? - Sure, honey.

Well, your friend seems to be on to something.

How fortunate you invited him to stop by tonight.

Yeah. What are the odds?

From the damage in the wood grain and these carpet fibers,

I can conclusively say somebody stood on this table

and broke it, and they tried to cover their tracks

with a shoddy repair job.

- Who could have done that? - Wasn't me.

I mean...

...it could have been anyone

in this house when you think about it.

Not quite anyone.

Check this out.

There's a fingerprint on this nail.

And judging from these ridge patterns,

I would say this print could only come from a blond child.

I'm not sure that's how fingerprints work.

Hey, when you get a stupid hobby like Mr. Young,

then you can become an expert, too.

A blond child? Sure narrows it down.

Baby Andy's also kind of blonde.

These aren't the ridge patterns of a toddler.

Back in those days, we tended to believe our scientists

more than we do today, which is a good thing generally.

Climate change is real.

But my dad turned that trust

into a weapon to use against Joey.

Wow. What's that chemical?

It's red dye number 40.

It disrupts the chemical bonds of this fiber

down to the molecular level.

It's the same stuff that's in your Jell-O.

And I can say that this culprit must be fifteen... wait!

No.

Fourteen years of age.

Wow. All that from carpet fibers.

- Very valid. - What do you have to say for yourself?

The man caught you red-handed.

Fine. You got me.

When William broke the lamp,

I got up on the table to fix it, bam.

First time in my life I had the impulse to help someone.

I'll never make that mistake again.

Lesson well learned.

But you're still gonna pay for those repairs.

I got a table guy that works off the books,

but you'll want to hide your jewelry.

- And the TV. - Thanks for your help, Grover.

You have a home office?

I got about forty minutes of paperwork to close this off.

Oh, it feels pretty closed off to me.

We can, uh, sort that out later.

Oh, right, right, yeah.

I'll secure this as evidence in case it goes to trial.

Pleasure meeting you all. Bye.

Thanks again, pal.

No problem.

So you'll... sit with me at lunch tomorrow?

- That was the deal. - Yes, it was.

So you went to all this trouble to catch Joey,

but still protect Timmy?

You're as devious as I am.

I'm just glad it's not the kids against each other anymore.

- It's back to us against them. - Yeah,

and I'm more confident than ever that we'll beat them.

And that none of them will get Pat's ringworm.

I put dog medicine in the Jell-O.

Check it out, Pop.

We're launching our own lunar mission.

Saturn V, what a beauty.

This baby burns more fuel in a second

than Lindbergh did crossing the Atlantic.

Lindbergh, ha, what a sucker.

Instead of rocket fuel, we're using something

we cooked up with my chemistry set.

So mixing random chemicals and putting a match to it?

Well, it does work for your mom's cooking.

We crunched the numbers, and according to our calculations,

the rocket's gonna go up.

Or, more precisely, forty to fifty feet in the air,

then deploy a parachute and gently waft back down to Earth.

Which is important since we put a cricket inside... for science.

- Hmm. - Do the honors.

With pleasure.

All right.

- Whoa. - I-I don't have it.

I don't have it. I don't...

Oh.

Well, that was... very cool!

- Yeah, it was! - Yeah.

I'm proud of you boys, although I feel bad

- you lost your Saturn V. - And the cricket.

Well, he died doing what he loved.

Eh, it's a shame.

Seemed like a lot of work went into that model.

Nah, it was Frank's.

Frank's?

In the words of Sergeant Schultz...

...I know nothing.

Does Frank have anything else we can blow up?

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