Brandon, do these hairs
belong to you?
Come on, Brandon.
Loni Anderson
was never on our couch.
They're here!
Oh, uh...
Just a second!
Hello...
Oh, it's only you.
Well, you're not exactly
the highlight of my day either.
I'm sorry, Betty,
but I'm expecting
a very important
potential client.
Oh.
Then I guess you won't have
time to go to the market.
All the dented canned goods
are on sale.
You want me to get you
some stewed prunes?
Yes, but only
if the cans are dented.
Don't worry.
They will be.
Betty, that's dishonest.
Oh, relax, Henry.
Don't pop your garters.
I'm just returning the hammer
that I borrowed
from you last week.
Oh!
Betty, if I land this job,
I'll never have to worry
about buying dented cans again.
Well, what kind of job is it?
Photographing Robert Whitney's
birthday party.
Well, who is Robert Whitney?
Haven't you heard
of the Whitneys of Houston?
Yeah!
And one of 'em
is my favorite singer.
The Whitneys are one
of the wealthiest families
in the nation.
They're here.
Don't say anything stupid.
Is this the Warnimont residence?
Yes, it is.
And I am Henry Warnimont.
Excellent. Master Robert?
- This is Master Robert Whitney.
- Hi.
And I am his social secretary,
Charles Cantrell.
- The pleasure is mine.
- As well it should be.
Well, don't just stand there.
Haul it in, Chuck.
So far, you've said two things
and they've both been stupid.
This is Betty Johnson,
she was just leaving.
Yeah, I'm on my way
to the market
to get some dented canned goods
for old Deep Pockets here.
Oh.
Oh, I... I...
I... I photograph the cans
and, uh, the light
bounces off the...
Oh, baloney.
He saves six cents a can.
Goodbye, Betty.
Oh, make yourselves at home.
Please sit down.
Very well.
Wait, Master Robert.
One can't be too careful.
Ooh!
Thank you.
I was looking for that.
Hi, boy! What's your name?
His name is Brandon.
Please!
Remove that beast immediately!
We don't know
where its mouth has been.
Brandon, b*at it.
But, Charles, Brandon likes me.
I like you too,
but I don't lick your face.
- Hi, everybody.
- Oh, uh...
Th... this is my daughter, Punky.
This is my turtle, Irving.
Reptile!
Oh, don't worry.
Irving's already had his sh*ts.
This is Master Robert Whitney.
Hello.
"Master Robert?"
Are you his sl*ve?
I am his social secretary.
Punky, how did you get so dirty?
It's all Irving's fault.
I took him to the park
for a swim,
and I had to wade in after him.
Punky, go and get cleaned up.
I have some important business
to discuss with Mr. Cantrell.
Okay, but first, I have
to wash off Irving.
- Wanna help me, Robert?
- Sure.
Um, what's that stuff
all over Irving?
Pond scum.
Oh, neat!
So, Robert,
do you have any pets?
There is a turtle pond
behind my house,
but I'm not allowed to play
with any of them.
And I think I own shares
in a race horse,
but I've never seen him.
You know, turtle scrubbing
is very dangerous.
- You mean, Irving bites?
- No.
- I'm using Henry's toothbrush.
- Hmm.
Why don't you take off your
jacket, so it doesn't get wet?
Oh, it's alright.
These are my play clothes.
What are you playing?
College professor?
Mr. Warnimont,
the assignment is yours.
Thank you, Mr. Cantrell.
- You won't be sorry.
- I hope not.
Master Robert's birthday party
is to be the pre-teen
social event of the year.
Only the creme de la creme
of Chicago society
will be there.
Hey, Henry,
Robert just invited me
to his birthday party!
Punky, that's wonderful.
That's debatable.
Is there a problem?
Well, don't you think
she might be
out of her element
in a gathering like this?
What do you mean?
Well, let's face it,
Mr. Warnimont,
your daughter isn't exactly
the epitome of social grace.
Well, she has
a few rough edges...
Well, I do hope
you will instruct her
in the proper way
in which to comport herself.
Don't worry, Mr. Cantrell.
My daughter will
comport herself just fine.
I hope so, since your future
as a society photographer
depends on it.
I can't believe this.
You were invited to
Robert Whitney's birthday party?
Yep!
The most important event
since Princess Di's wedding?
- Yep!
- And I wasn't?
Nope!
But I'm the one
with the right clothes,
the right breeding,
and the right connections.
I guess you just don't have
the right turtle.
Is there no justice
in this world?
What are you laughing at?
I feel so bad for you.
Punky, why did you
invite me over here?
To rub the Whitney party
in my flawless face?
No.
I need to know how to act
around fancy stuck-up people.
After all, you're the most
stuck-up person I know.
Thank you.
- So, will you help me?
- I don't know.
I should let you be
the laughing stock of the party.
Please help me, Margaux.
Punky, Punky, Punky...
You know, you beg really well.
What a joy it is
to see you grovel.
Don't worry!
I'll help you learn
good manners.
I love a challenge.
Why do I have to learn
good manners too?
I have three good reasons.
Number one,
you're my best friend.
Number two, everyone
should learn good manners.
And number three,
if you're not here,
I will strangle her.
I'm off to the studio to clean
these lenses for the party.
What are you three up to?
Oh, nothing, Henry.
Just girl stuff.
Margaux, you look
very pretty today.
Thank you, Mr. Warnimont,
and might I add,
you look nowhere near as elderly
as you really are.
Thank you, I think.
Punky, that's lesson number one.
Always repay a compliment
with a compliment.
- What's lesson number two?
- Greeting your host.
What's the first thing you say
when you arrive
at the Whitney's mansion?
I say, "Great place."
"Must have set you back
a bundle."
No, no, no, no.
When you greet your host,
you say,
"Thank you for inviting me."
"And might I add,
it's a pleasure to be a guest
in your tastefully
decorated home."
Next, I shall teach you
how to sit.
Oh, we know how to sit,
don't we, Cherie?
Yeah, after eating and sleeping,
it's probably the thing
I do best.
Okay. Let's see how you sit.
You should sit like ladies,
not dock workers.
Observe and learn.
Now, you try.
I feel like a muppet.
You are looking a little green.
Margaux, pass us
some ice tea, please.
No, this isn't for drinking,
it's for walking.
The object here is
to improve your posture.
Now, put a glass of ice tea
in each hand,
and you walk without
spilling a single drop.
Very good! Now, sit.
Come on, Punky.
Good evening, Mr. Warnimont.
Isn't your daughter coming?
She's right here.
Punky, is that you?
Yes, it is, Robert.
Thank you for inviting me.
And might I add,
it's a pleasure to be a guest
at your tastefully
decorated home.
Well, I must say,
I am surprised.
You're not the only one.
- Punky, what's going on here?
- What do you mean, Henry?
Well, you're acting so refined.
So elegant.
Nothing like you at all.
- Well, you see...
- Mr. Warnimont.
Shouldn't you be snapping away?
Good evening. Shirley Temple?
No, Punky Brewster.
How droll. I'm in hysterics.
Hello, and might I add,
how are you?
Excuse us. We're busy
discussing the market.
Oh, I'm an expert
when it comes to the market.
Really?
Do you have any good tips?
Yeah, don't buy
the day-old donuts.
They're as hard as a rock.
Alright, children.
Now let's have a nice big smile.
Come on. Say, "Cheese."
Say, "Inheritance."
Inheritance.
Where's the ice?
Boy!
This black jelly sure is salty.
That's not jelly. It's caviar.
Caviar?
Yes, you know, fish eggs.
- Don't you like it?
- Uh...
It's magnificent.
I'll take the rest home.
Do they have any fishy bags?
Punky, I'm getting
some terrific sh*ts here.
I think the Whitneys will be
very pleased with my work.
That's great, Henry.
This is nothing,
my birthday party next week
will put this one to shame.
Oh, if you're looking
for a good photographer,
I'm Henry Warnimont,
at your service.
Well, if Scavullo
isn't available.
Oh, he isn't.
He's doing a bar mitzvah.
Punky, uh,
sorry I haven't had
a chance to talk to you.
How's Irving doing?
How droll!
Forget Irving.
He's a mere tortoise.
Would you like to go see
our turtle pond?
I couldn't possibly.
I might soil my frock.
Punky, what's gotten into you?
Fish eggs.
No.
I mean, you're different.
Thank you, Robert.
No. I don't mean
good different.
You're not the same Punky
I met the other day.
Why are you dressed like that
and acting so phony?
So I can fit in
and be like everybody else.
Punky, the reason
I invited you here
is because you weren't
like everyone else.
- Really?
- That's right.
I like the old you
a whole lot better.
But I have to do this for Henry.
It's real important to him.
Yeah, I know what you mean.
I'm always doing stuff
that adults want me to.
Come along, Master Robert.
You should be attending
to your more important guests.
Sorry, Punky.
Well, I'm starving.
Have you tasted
the food yet, Punky?
Yeah, it's incredibly weird.
I'll get you a nice apple.
I should have known
you were responsible.
I'm sorry, Charles.
Well, it's my fault.
I was the one who was hungry.
Mr. Warnimont, perhaps we could
avoid further incidents
if your daughter would wait
in the kitchen, with the help.
- What?
- Let's be honest.
Once a ragamuffin,
always a ragamuffin.
Don't talk about
my daughter like that!
Oh, come now, anyone can see
that she doesn't belong
with well-bred children.
These aren't children.
They're little stockbrokers
in children's bodies.
You, sir, are fired.
And you, sir, are a bozo.
I demand that you both
leave immediately.
With pleasure.
Come on, Punky.
Let's blow this mausoleum.
Henry, I'm sorry,
I messed things up.
Honey, it wasn't your fault.
You were only trying to help me.
But if I had been more refined,
more ladylike...
I don't want you to be
anything but yourself.
I admire you
just the way you are.
- Okay?
- Okay. Thanks, Henry.
Robert, I want to apologize...
I thought I asked you to leave.
You have absolutely
ruined this party.
Charles, put a sock in it.
Master Robert!
They didn't ruin my party.
- You did.
- I did?
Yeah, you invited
a bunch of stiffs.
Perhaps.
But they are rich
and powerful stiffs.
Charles, go call my father
and ask him for something.
- Ask him for what?
- A reference.
Punky, I wish my party
could have been more fun.
Well, I have an idea
that might liven things up.
But I don't know
if we should do it.
Would Charles hate it?
- Yeah.
- Then what are we waiting for?
Okay, everybody!
Ready! Set! Go!
- Come on!
- Whoo! Come on!
03x12 - My Fair Punky
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Follows Punky and her dog, Brandon who have been abandoned by her parents.
Follows Punky and her dog, Brandon who have been abandoned by her parents.