| [Opening credits] |
|---|
| Episode begins in the kitchen. Tim, Jill & the
boys enter from the garage. Jill switches on the lights. The boys are
arguing. |
|---|
| | |
| Jill: | I want you to sit down so I can wash this horrible jacket. |
| Brad, Randy & Mark: | Aw, c'mon! |
| Tim: | Enough! [The boys sit down] I don't wanna hear
another word out of you guys. Sit down. Boy, you really did it this time! You
really did it! |
| Jill: | I just wanna thank you boys for the most
embarrassing night of my life. We are the only family in twelve years to have
been kicked out of Wacky Jack's Pizza Pagoda. |
| Tim: | It takes a lot of work to get kicked out of a
restaurant that has a trampoline and a batting cage. |
| Randy: | But Dad! |
| Tim: | No buts. That's it. |
| Brad: | It was Wacky Jack's fault. He was making
those stupid faces at us. |
| Jill: | He's a clown; that's his job. |
| Brad: | We didn't do anything! |
| Tim: | [Imitating Brad] We didn't do anything! Does
this look familiar? [Tim picks up a red clown's nose] Wacky Jack's nose - you
pulled it right off his face! |
| Randy: | It's not his real nose. |
| Tim: | I don't care whose nose it is; don't pull
things off people's faces. Hey, y'know what you guys are gonna do? You're gonna
take this nose, you're gonna put it in an envelope, you're gonna sign a little
apology note and send it back to Wacky Jack. And right now, you're gonna get
out of my sight. Go up to your rooms. March! March! [The boys get up and start
heading upstairs, complaining] |
| Randy: | Mom! |
| Jill: | Up! Up! If I hear any noise upstairs,
I'll be up there. And if I have to come up there, you won't want me up there.
[Jill follows the boys to the stairs] |
| Randy: | C'mom Mom! |
| Brad: | We didn't do anything! |
| Jill: | No, quiet, now. |
| Brad: | We wanna watch Full House. We didn't
-- |
| Jill: | -- no. [Brad & Randy go upstairs] |
| Mark: | I just want you to know: I'm
innocent. |
| Jill: | Innocent. Pouring salad dressing down your
brother's pants? |
| Mark: | Oh. You saw that. |
| Jill: | Yeah. [Mark goes upstairs. Jill goes over to
Tim in the kitchen] Tim, this is pathetic. |
| Tim: | We've sunk to a new low. Pizza? [Tim offers
Jill some of the pizza they brought back with them] |
| Jill: | Yeah if you take off those mushrooms
first. |
| Tim: | Those aren't mushrooms, honey. |
| Jill: | I'll pass. [Tim chooses a piece of pizza for
himself] |
| Tim: | Would you nuke that for me? |
| Jill: | Nuke it yourself. [Tim hops across to the
microwave like an ape] |
| Tim: | Ooo, ooo, ooo, ooo. [Tim randomly presses buttons
on the microwave] |
| Jill: | Don't give me that. You cook for us all the
time. |
| Tim: | [In a neanderthal voice] On barbecue. Cook
outside with flame. Microwave inside, cook with magic. Flame good, magic
bad. |
| Jill: | Microwave good, man stupid! [Jill pours
herself a drink. Tim lights one of the gas burners on the stove] |
| Tim: | [Getting excited] Ooo, ah, ah, ooo, ah, ah,
ah, ah, ooo! |
| Jill: | Easy monkey boy. [Jill turns down the burner]
Fire is our friend. |
| Tim: | [Grunting] Hey-oh-oh-oh! [Tim picks up the
pizza piece with a fork and toasts it over the burner] |
| Jill: | Tim, c'mon! You're, you're gonna drip cheese
all over my stove. |
| Tim: | Not to mention burn the hair right off my
knuckles! Man. [The boys can be heard arguing upstairs] |
| Jill: | [Shouting] I'm gonna count to three and then
I'm gonna be up there! One! Two! [The boys stop arguing. Mark comes down the
stairs] |
| Mark: | Dad, Brad and Randy are doing bad
things. |
| Tim: | Unless it involves human sacrifice, I don't
wanna hear about it. |
| Mark: | O.K. I'll let you know. [Mark goes back
upstairs] |
| Tim: | Little baboons. Where do they learn this
stuff? |
| Jill: | Possibly from the big baboon? |
| Tim: | [Grunts] Uh-ee? ["Me?"] |
| Jill: | Yes you. You encourage their bad
behavior. |
| Tim: | I don't encourage bad
behavior. |
| Jill: | Oh yeah? Tonight when Brad spit his chewing
gum across into that plant, you cheered. |
| Tim: | Jill, that was a ten, twelve foot arc easy.
Right into a six inch pot, man. Michael Jordan couldn't have made that shot,
huh? But I did tell him to stop too. |
| Jill: | Oh yeah. After you gave him a standing
ovation. [Tim takes his pizza over to the table and starts to eat it] I may be
wrong, but I think that's sending a mixed signal. |
| Tim: | 'Nough said. |
| Jill: | No, what are we gonna do about our boys' table
manners? |
| Jill: | You should give a refreshment
course. |
| Jill: | Me? What about you? |
| Tim: | [With his mouth full of pizza] Honey, I'm a
man. What do I know about manners? |
| Jill: | I see, so table manners are the "woman's
job." |
| Tim: | Historically Jill, yes that's the case: Emily
Post, Amy Vanderbilt, and of course, who could forget [In a feminine voice]
Miss Manners. I don't recall an etiquette column called "Ask Chuck." "Y'know
Chuck, I've been eating pot roast all my life, got that little gristle piece
stuck in the middle of my tooth, do you suck it out with a tongue or ask
someone to do it? Help me out with that will you friend?" |
| Jill: | Tim, Tim, listen. You are the one that
encouraged their bad behavior therefore you should have to be the one to teach
them good behavior. |
| Tim: | We should do this together. |
| Jill: | No, no. You're the transgressor. |
| Tim: | I never wear your clothes! Alright, I do like
that taffeta gown. [Jill laughs] I feel -- |
| Jill: | -- you know what I'm talking about. |
| Tim: | What do you want me to do? |
| Jill: | I want this family to get through a meal
without the boys throwing their food, or gargling their milk, or talking about
boogers. |
| Tim: | A meal without boogers, hon. |
| Jill: | Tim, it's never gonna happen. |
| Tim: | I can give you a perfect meal. |
| Jill: | Yeah, when? When's there gonna be this
perfect meal? |
| Tim: | Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night, I'll sit the
boys down, we'll have a man-to-manners talk. You are gonna have three perfect
gentlemen. [Some bedding falls past the window and lands in the
backyard] |
| Randy: | [From upstairs] C'mon, wow! |
| Brad: | [From upstairs] Look at that, aw
wow! |
| Brad & Randy: | [From upstairs] Yeah, yeah! [Mark
comes downstairs, wearing his pyjamas and carrying a large teddy bear. Tim &
Jill go over to him. Mark heads towards the back door] |
| Jill: | Honey, what is this. What are you, where are
you going? |
| Mark: | Brad and Randy threw my mattress out the
window. |
| Tim: | That's it, I'm coming up there! [Tim heads
toward the stairs] |
| Jill: | Honey, honey, honey, you don't have to...
[FADE] |
| | |
| Cut to the "Tool Time" set, the next
day. |
|---|
| [Tim & Al are working on a project. They are knocking nails
into a subfloor. Tim tries to keep up with Al but has to stop to remove his
bent nails] |
| | |
| Tim: | So, Al and I have finished that subfloor. And
next time, we'll show you how to lay down that tongue-and-groove hardwood
flooring. Al, what size board is, board do we use on that, Al? |
| Al: | Er Tim, they're three inches wide by one-eighth
of an inch thick. [Al holds up a board] They'll be fastened down by driving a
nail at a forty-five degree angle through their longitudinal tongue. |
| Tim: | Aahh! That's goot hurt, huh? But we do that to
hide the nail, don't we? |
| Al: | That's right Tim. [Al starts sweeping
up] |
| Tim: | I know that sounds complicated, but it's not.
And what you'll end up with is an absolutely beautiful dining room floor.
Speaking of dining rooms, that brings me to today's tool tip for "Tool Time."
It's about etiquette. [Tim take's off his toolbelt and hangs it up] It's a big
word so get out your dictionaries. You see, a dining room needs two things to
be complete: a floor, ha-ha-ha-ha, and manners. You see, when men are together
by ourselves, we don't worry about manners, do we, cuz, hey, we don't need
them. You're at the ball game, what's better than a mustard fight with your
buddies. Or spitting, spitting beer: hey buddy pffff! Hey! My personal
favorite: jamming two big french fries up that nose, act like a walrus. [Tim
flaps his arms like flippers and makes honking sounds] Hey, it's guy stuff and
women don't appreciate guy stuff, and that's the truth. I don't think a woman
really understands the diaphragmatic control it takes to do all of the vowels
in one belch. [Belches] A-E-I-O-U. Manners, use manners. It shows you're
civilized, it tells women you're civilized and they'll keep doing things for
you. So always remember that. Use the correct fork, put the napkins in your
lap, [Tim puts on his jacket] and always, I do mean always, excuse yourself
when you lose a little pressure. Because I want you to remember men, the first
three letters of "manners" [The word "MANNERS" appears on screen] are, uh: [Tim
sweeps the rest of the letters aside to leave "MAN"] See you next week.
[Grunts] Ah-ah-ah. [Tim leaves the set] |
| | |
| Cut to the living room. |
|---|
| [Tim is carrying a stack of children's stacking blocks. Jill
enters from the garage with the laundry] |
| | |
| Jill: | Look Tim, I found this broccoli in Randy's
dirty clothes. |
| Tim: | Hmm. Either he's hiding it or not digesting
properly. |
| Jill: | Urgh! That's disgusting! [Jill puts the
broccoli in the trash] What is all this? [Tim has put the wooden blocks on
plates on the table] |
| Tim: | I'm teaching my men some manners. |
| Jill: | With wooden blocks. |
| Tim: | Rehearsal food. That's what that is. |
| Jill: | Well gee, I hope they don't like it. I don't
have any recipes for wood. |
| Tim: | Sure you do: that meat loaf that you like so
much. |
| Jill: | I don't mean to criticize but, um, is this
where you want to put the napkins? |
| Tim: | No, I want them in the proper spot. [Tim moves
the napkins to the other side of the plates] There you go. |
| Jill: | That was right in the first place! |
| Tim: | [Grunts] Uhhh! [Jill laughs] You don't really
think I can do this, do you? |
| Jill: | I didn't say that Tim. |
| Tim: | C'mon, you don't really think I can do it, say
the words, say it, say it. |
| Jill: | Sweetheart, I just think that you cannot
teach that which you do not know. |
| Tim: | Really. |
| Jill: | Really. |
| Tim: | I'll have you know that that which you think I
do not know is that which I know. |
| Jill: | No, no, no. |
| Tim: | If I can't whip these boys into shape
-- |
| Jill: | -- what, what? |
| Tim: | I will give you anything you want. |
| Jill: | Anything? |
| Tim: | Anything. I know what you want. |
| Jill: | No, no, no Tim. That would be the consolation
prize. I was thinking more along the line of season tickets to the
opera. |
| Tim: | Ahhhh! [Jill laughs] That's, that's a Greek
word, isn't it? Death by music. |
| Jill: | You said anything. |
| Tim: | If that's what you want, fine. But if I want to
see a screaming fat lady with horns, I'll go to your mom's house! Yeah! [Tim
laughs] |
| Jill: | Now listen buddy, a deal is a deal. I'm gonna
go call the Michigan Opera Theater for ticket information. [Jill goes upstairs
with the laundry, singing] |
| Tim: | You're wasting your time. |
| Cut to the backyard. |
|---|
| Tim: | Mark! [Tim enters the backyard]
Mark! |
| Mark: | [From under an up-turned trash can]
Daddy! |
| Tim: | Mark. [Tim lifts up the trash can off Mark]
What are you doing under there, sweetheart? |
| Mark: | Smelling the inside of the trash
can. |
| Tim: | Why are you doing that? |
| Mark: | Brad said he would give me a quarter if I
did. |
| Tim: | What, is Brad like the garbage fairy now? Why
don't you go inside and wash up. |
| Mark: | O.K. [Mark goes inside] |
| Tim: | Randy! Brad! |
| Randy: | [From a distance] Yeah? |
| Tim: | Home, now! |
| Wilson: | [Wilson is wearing a welder's mask] How
goes it good neighbor? |
| Tim: | Hiya Wilson, What're you making over
there? |
| Wilson: | I'm building a porcupine trap. |
| Tim: | Really. |
| Wilson: | Hm. |
| Tim: | I don't think there's a whole lot of porcupine
in the Detroit area, are there? |
| Wilson: | Ah-ha. But if you build it, they will
come! [Tim mouths "whoa." Brad & Randy enter the backyard through the
bushes] |
| Randy: | What do you want Dad? |
| Tim: | I want you to go sit down at the table,
alright? [Randy goes inside] Hey Brad, can I have a moment with you
please? |
| Brad: | What? |
| Tim: | Your little brother was underneath that
garbage can, smelling it. Where do you get these ideas? |
| Brad: | They just come to me. |
| Tim: | Why don't you just go sit down. Let me teach
you boys some manners. [Tim & Brad go inside] |
| Cut to the living room. |
|---|
| [Mark is chasing Brad around the room] |
| Mark: | You owe me a quarter. |
| Brad: | No way. |
| Mark: | Yeah. |
| Tim: | That's enough, that's enough you guys. Cut it
out. Stop running around. [Tim catches Mark] Stop, stop, come here, sit down.
You've got work to do. Sit, sit. [Tim takes Brad & Mark over to the
table] |
| Brad: | What're we doing? |
| Tim: | We're sitting down is what we're doing. [Tim,
Brad & Mark sit down at the table] Uh, now. [Randy comes over with a glass of
milk and sits down] I love you boys but you are bad news in the table manners
department so we're gonna have a crash course. |
| Brad: | Why? |
| Tim: | Why? Because of what happened in the
restaurant, that's why. |
| Brad: | I told you it was that stupid clown's fault.
You ought to go back and punch him out, Dad. |
| Tim: | Hey! Never hit anybody with make-up. That's
the rule. The bottom line here, we are gonna have [Brad & Randy start fighting
over the wooden blocks on their plates] a civilized meal, and I set this table
nicely. Put those back. [Tim puts the blocks back on their plates] A civilized
meal means, Brad, no hitting, pinching, kicking. All that jazz under the table
you don't think I see, I see it. Don't do it. And Randy, none of these gross
out stories, the boogers, the scab stuff, scabs that talk to boogers
-- |
| Randy: | -- Dad. You wanna talk about food? |
| Tim: | Hey, hey, food, perfect. Let's talk
food. |
| Randy: | O.K., well today in the cafeteria, we made
Bobby Deavers laugh so hard he shot peas out his nose! |
| Brad: | No way! |
| Randy: | It was excellent! |
| Brad: | Yeah, but did it have snot on it? |
| Tim: | Ohhh, we're not gonna talk snot tonight.
You're gonna come down the stairs like little princes, sit down cleaned and
washed up, look around and say: [Waiting for an answer and then prompting]
"Good evening mother." |
| Randy: | Mom's not here. |
| Tim: | Well pretend she's here. |
| Mark: | I'll be Mommy. [Mark gets out of his chair
and goes over to Jill's chair] |
| Tim: | No you won't. Don't be Mommy. It scares me
when you say stuff like that. [Tim takes Mark back to his seat. Jill comes
downstairs] Behave yourself and sit here. [Tim sees Jill] |
| Jill: | Don't mind me. Just pretend I'm not
here. |
| Tim: | It would be a lot easier to pretend you
weren't here if you weren't. |
| Jill: | I won't say a word. Er, do you need any
help? |
| Tim: | Thanks honey, but I've got it all taken care
of. |
| Jill: | Huh. By the way, I did call Michigan Opera
Theater. There are plenty of good seats available. |
| Tim: | Huh. [To the boys] You guys gotta help me me
out, you've gotta help me out. Let's take care of this. If we don't do this
right, I'm gonna spend the next year at the opera. [Jill starts preparing
dinner] |
| Brad, Randy & Mark: | Ahhhhhhh! [Tim clutches his
chest] |
| Tim: | Alright, focus, focus, focus. Eating is not
just a necessity, it's a job. Like any job, you need the proper tools. These
are the tools of the trade: [Tim picks up the cutlery] fork, knife, weaker
sister the spoon. Help me, help me, help me. Almost useless, crude instruments
by themselves, but together they form the meal time triad of power. |
| Tim, Brad, Randy & Mark: | [Grunting]
Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah. |
| Jill: | Tim, I hate to interrupt this grunt fest but
dinner is less than two hours away. |
| Tim: | Thanks for reminding me, pookie. |
| Jill: | You're welcome. |
| Tim: | Thanks. Now we've gotta hustle up, we've gotta
hustle up. Just the bas- take that out of your mouth please, O.K? [Mark takes
his knife out of his mouth] Just the basics, quick, alright. Tonight, for
dinner, do not eat with your hands. |
| Randy: | Well, what if we're having
chicken? |
| Tim: | Huh, [Tim looks at Jill. Jill looks back at
him] chicken outdoors, use your hands; chicken indoors, knife and
fork. |
| Brad: | What about live chicken? |
| Tim: | A live chicken? Brad, who the hell do you hang
out with? |
| Brad: | Mom! |
| Jill: | What? |
| Brad: | Dad's cussing. |
| Tim: | I'm not cussing. |
| Mark: | He said a bad word. |
| Tim: | It wasn't bad. [Tim sits down in his
chair] |
| Randy: | Yeah, he said hell and damn. |
| Tim: | I did not say damn. |
| Randy: | Now you did. [Tim rubs his brow. Jill comes
over, looking smug] |
| Tim: | Control here, control, control. That's it. You
guys now, O.K., we do exactly as Dad does. Listen up. Sit up straight. Sit up
straight, straight. Sit up straight. [Tim slaps Brad and he sits up] Elbows off
the table Randy, Randy elbows. [Brad slaps Randy] Stop that! |
| Randy: | Stop that! |
| Tim: | Stop that! |
| Brad & Mark: | Stop that! |
| Brad, Randy & Mark: | Stop that, stop that, stop
that, stop that. |
| Tim: | Enough, enough, enough! |
| Brad, Randy & Mark: | Stop that, that's enough, stop
that, that's enough! Stop that -- |
| Tim: | Don't repeat me! |
| Brad, Randy & Mark: | Stop that, that's enough, don't
repeat me, stop that, that's enough, don't repeat me. [Jill starts playing an
opera CD on the stereo] Stop that, that's enough, don't repeat me, stop that,
that's enough, don't repeat me, stop that, that's enough, don't repeat me, stop
that, that's enough, don't repeat me. [Tim puts his hands to his
head] |
| | |
| [Commercial break] |
|---|
| | |
| Cut to the backyard. |
|---|
| [Wilson is crouched down by his trap. There is a sceaming cat
noise. Tim enters his backyard] |
| | |
| Wilson: | Shh-shh-shh. |
| Tim: | Wilson? [Wilson stands up] |
| Wilson: | Hiya Tim. |
| Tim: | It looks like you've caught your first
porcupine. |
| Wilson: | No, just Mrs. Foley's cat. [The cat yowls
again] Easy Fluffy. I'm trying to calm him down a little bit before I set him
loose. |
| Tim: | He's not hurt, is he? |
| Wilson: | No, no, no, no, Tim. This is a humane trap.
[The cat hisses] Of course, that's my opinion not Fluffy's. So, how was the
pow-wow with the boys about table manners? |
| Tim: | Wilson, I don't know. Those kids sit down to
diiner and they go nuts. |
| Wilson: | Tim, Tim, Tim, the problem with your boys
is they don't know how the channel their meal time aggression. |
| Tim: | Meal time aggression? |
| Wilson: | You see Tim, primitive man was a hunter; he
had an intimate relationship with his food. |
| Tim: | A lot of dating with wildebeest going
on? |
| Wilson: | No, no, no, no, Tim. I'm talking about a
spiritual intimacy. They were at one with their meat. |
| Tim: | [Grunts] Uhh? |
| Wilson: | The hunter would stalk and kill his prey,
then pay homage to the animal's spirit. He would give thanks to the animal for
giving its life. But the primitive man in us is confused. Today our food comes
to the table, we don't know how it got there. |
| Tim: | Hm. It gives you something to think about when
you open a can of spam, doesn't it? |
| Wilson: | Yes. |
| Tim: | Thanks Wilson. [Tim goes back towards the
house] |
| Wilson: | Alright. I think Fluffy has calmed down
now. There you go little buddy: freedom. [Wilson opens the trap and the cat
runs off into the bushes. There is the sound of a dog barking and more cat
screaming. Wilson turns to Tim] Well, with freedom comes
responsibility. |
| | |
| Cut to the living room. |
|---|
| [Mark, Brad & Randy enter from the backyard, followed by Tim.
The boys are complaining] |
| | |
| Tim: | Enough! Enough, enough. Guys, [The boys sit
around the table] your mom wants one quiet meal and I'm gonna give it to her if
I have to duct tape you yard apes to those chairs. Quiet. |
| Randy: | O.K., we'll do whatever you want tonight.
Can we go now? [Randy starts to leave] |
| Tim: | No, you can't go now. Cuz I'm gonna tell you
something. [Tim picks up Randy and puts him on one of the stools by the
counter] I know the reason why you guys get nuts at the dinner table. Because
you don't have an intimate relationship with your food. [The boys look at each
other, puzzled] You don't respect what you're eating. You're not getting this.
Let me show you what I mean. [Tim goes over to the counter and picks up the
chicken Jill has got out for dinner] Mm. This is the chicken we're having for
dinner tonight. [Tim holds the chicken in front of Randy's face] |
| Randy: | Oh yuk! That looks gross. |
| Tim: | That's exactly my point. This bird gave its
life so you could eat. You should thank the bird. |
| Randy: | Dad, have you lost it? |
| Tim: | You're just missing it. It, it, you don't get
it. [Tim sits down] It's simple. You guys would lose your meal time aggression
if you had to hunt it and kill it yourselves. Hmm. I'll tell you what; I'll be
the chicken, you be the mighty hunters. Stalk, hunt me. Kill the chicken. [Tim
stands up and carries the chicken around the room] Blah-blah-blah-blah. What a
wonderful day to be a chicken and alive. Buck-buck-buck. Oh God, it's hunters.
I'd better run. Flee, run, flee. So they couldn't catch me, flee. Run, stalk,
hunt, kill me, c'mon. |
| Brad: | Kill the chicken! [The boys jump up and chase
Tim around the room] |
| Brad, Randy & Mark: | Yeah, yeah, ahhhhhhhhhhh! [Tim
makes chicken noises. They run into the backyard] |
| Tim: | Kill the chicken, kill, kill the chicken.
Alright, I think the chicken's dead. [Tim is carrying Randy and has Brad and
Mark holding onto him] The chicken's dead. |
| Cut to the backyard. |
|---|
| Randy: | But the spirit of the chicken's still
alive! |
| Brad: | Ahhh! [Tim drops the chicken and it lands on
the grass. Tim and the boys stop and look at it] |
| Tim: | Aw, we've got to eat this thing now. [Tim
picks up the chicken] |
| Randy: | I am not eating that. There's grass all over
it. |
| Tim: | Does that bother you? [Tim puts the chicken in
the barbecue tray] |
| Randy: | Yes, it's all dirty, gross and
disgusting. |
| Tim: | Ho-ho-ho. Haven't we learned something. You
know what? [Tim sits on the garden chair] I think what's dirty and disgusting
and gross is when you guys come to the table and tell your booger and scab
stories. Fight, kick, yell. I think manners aren't respect for your food but
respect for people around you, maybe. You guys understand any of this
stuff? |
| Randy: | Yeah. |
| Brad: | Yeah, kind of. |
| Tim: | I want you to think about that before
tonight's dinner. |
| Randy: | Now what do we do? |
| Tim: | Whatever you want. [Randy looks at Brad and
smiles] |
| Randy: | Kill the chicken again! [The boys jump on
Tim] |
| | |
| Cut to the living room, that night. |
|---|
| [Tim, Jill & the boys are sitting around the candle lit
table. Mark has his head on the table, asleep. Opera is playing in the
background] |
| | |
| Jill: | Randy, honey, do you want some more mashed
potatoes? |
| Randy: | No thank you. |
| Jill: | How about you Brad? |
| Brad: | No thank you. [Randy rests his head on the
table. Brad rests his head on the back of his chair] |
| Tim: | No thank you, no thank you. That's very
polite. |
| Jill: | Tim, I've gotta apologize. I thought you
couldn't give me one quiet meal with the boys and you did it. |
| Tim: | I think we can kiss off Madame Butterfly,
can't we? |
| Jill: | Not so fast. I mean, you didn't really teach
them manners. [Jill lifts up Randy's head, who is now asleep, and removes his
plate from underneath it and puts his napkin in its place] You just exhausted
them. |
| Tim: | You take what you can get. |
| Jill: | I might just do that. [Jill stands up and
blows out the candle nearest her] |
| Tim: | [Grunts] Uh? |
| Jill: | I'll be going upstairs now. [Jill turns to go
upstairs] |
| Tim: | You want company? |
| Jill: | No, just you. |
| Tim: | [Grunts] Ye-heh. [Tim blows out the other
candles and creeps over to Jill] Shouldn't we take the boys to bed? |
| Jill: | Nah, leave them. It'll only take a minute
anyway! [Jill smiles. Tim shakes his head and adjusts his jeans] |
| Tim: | I feeling pretty spry, honey. Maybe a
minute-five, minute-ten! [Jill laughs. Tim & Jill go upstairs] |
| | |
| CREDITS |
|---|
| | |
| Cut to the "Tool Time" set. |
|---|
| [Tim & Al are working on the flooring] |
| | |
| Tim: | When laying down that hardwood floor, you
could use a hammer and nails but, pff, why would you? That would take forver. I
think what we need here is: |
| Audience: | More power! |
| Tim: | I was thinking right along those lines myself.
And look what Al brought us out here: [Al hands Tim a nail gun] the Binford
3-11 series B-power nail driver. Thank you Al. |
| Al: | You're welcome Tim. |
| Tim: | Haha, that's etiquette. Always thank your
co-worker. Try to say something nice. Al, good looking slacks! [Tim laughs. Al
ignores him] Whoo. [Tim holds up the nail gun] That bad boy's raw power [Grunts]
Ah-ah-ah. The kind of power you need to attach a phone book to a cinder block
wall, man. [Tim pretends to nail a book to a wall] Pvrff, pvrff, pvrff,
pvrff. |
| Al: | Er Tim, you might want to remind our viewers
that the Binford 3-11 has that new safety lock. |
| Tim: | Well I'm sure it does Al. |
| Al: | Well, it's been completely
redesigned. |
| Tim: | Al, I grew up with these things. [Tim examines
the tool] Heck, that is a little different than I'm used to seeing, isn't it?
Well, all safeties are basically a solenoid. Very impossible to shoot it when
you don't want to shoot it. [Tim points the gun down and it shoots a nail]
Ah-ha-how-hee. Tell you what, we'll go to a break right now. [A "Tool Time"
title card appears] Get me out of this. |
| Al: | Boy, that's gotta hurt. |
| Tim: | Yeah Al, it does. Feels kind of like that.
[The gun fires again] |
| Al: | Ah! |
| | |
| Cut to the "Tool Time" set. |
|---|
| [Tim is trying to fold up a folding rule] |
| | |
| THE END |
|---|
