03x28 - Bub's Butler

[bunniefuu]

You ever win anything?

Well, sure.

I almost won a portable steam cabinet once, but
some joker came along with an earlier postmark.

What are all these labels for?

Hands off, Buster.

This is for the big fat one.

Gonna win something big and fat?

Well, I hope so.

$25,000 first prize.

Is that big enough?

Wow.

What are you gonna do with all the money?

He's gonna buy 150 automatic dishwashers.

Now, just for that, I'm not gonna cut you
in on the first prize.

Bub, every contest that comes along,
you think you're gonna win.

This is the slogan that's gonna win me 25,000 clams.

Mother Barstow's frozen pies make a man
heavy and increase his size.

What?

Mother Barstow like you to say that?

Why not?

It shows her stupid pies are nutritious.

Here's another one.

Mother Barstow's hominy grits can be eaten
with spoons or baseball mitts.

Baseball mitts?

Why not?

I knew a guy in the Navy once that used to
eat artichokes with pliers.

Here's another one.

If you want to make the blues go away,
belt down Barstow's chowder souffle.

When I send these in, I'll buy Robbie his
own mall shop, a new car for Mike,

and I'll get you a pony.

Oh, boy, a real-life pony.

Well, why not?

We've got one in the house.

We might as well have one in the yard, too.

Well, now, this is the night you've all been waiting for.

The Mother Barstow Company
has gone to great lengths to be as

completely honest in its judgment as it is in its products.

Bub, do you ever figure the odds on a thing like this?

I don't care about odds.

I just got a feeling.

Besides, I'm wearing my lucky underwear.

Grand prize, $25,000.

And the winner is... William O'Casey.

William O'Casey.

Mr. William...

Say it, say it.

Mr. William Crosetti.

Mr. William Crosetti, 1421 Seneca Street,
Newark, New Jersey.

How do you like that?

The bum is probably Mother Barstow's son-in-law.

And the combination washer-dryer.

And the winner is...

Edmund K.

Wynn, 7201 Chalet Street.

That does it.

That's the last time I do business at a
food company run by a crooked old lady.

You'll get them next time, Bub.

Hey, congratulations, Bub.

You just keep talking to that girl with a phone
going out of her ear, never mind your sarcasm.

Well, I'm not kidding.

Maureen said you just won fourth prize.

Well, how does she know?

Well, her folks are watching the same program.

Well, what did Bub win?

She said he won a prize worth $1,000.

Well, don't just sit there.

Warm up.

Warm up.

Come on.

Come on.

And the seventh prize winner is...

Millie Gunston, Amarillo, Texas.

Seventh prize.

What'd I win?

What'd I win?

Hey, Maureen, Bub wants to know what the prize is.

She's gonna yell at her folks and then
they're gonna yell back.

Yeah?

Oh, yeah?

Yeah.

Yeah, okay.

Yeah, bye.

Maureen says that you just won a prize worth
$1,000 and it's gonna be delivered here Monday morning.

But what'd I win?

What'd I win?

Well, she said the guy on television said
it was gonna be a surprise.

Didn't I tell you little Miss Barstow is a
cute little old woman?

You said she was a crook.

She just uncrooked herself a minute ago.

How can I wait till Monday morning?

I can't wait till Monday morning when this
is only Sunday night and I win something.

I'm a winner.

Yeah, finally you win.

I'm a winner.

I'm a winner, boy.

I'm a winner.

Those dirty crooks.

They said Monday morning.

Well, it's Monday morning.

And it's 930 already.

Yeah?

The name is Bivens.

Yeah?

Yeah, well, nobody around here sent for an undertaker.

Are you Mr. William O'Casey?

That's right.

I was delivered by Mother Barstow Foods Limited.

Oh, swell, swell.

Come right in.

Come in.

Is the money in there?

Money, sir?

Yes, the prize money.

The prize, sir, is myself.

Well, now, nothing personal, but you don't
look like much of a prize to me.

No, sir.

For the next two weeks, I'm engaged to be your Butler.

Excuse me.

Hey, Bub, how come the door's locked?

Hey, Bub!

You want something?

Yeah, I want to come in.

Why?

Because I live here.

In that case, enter.

In the best homes, the doors are kept
locked to give one a choice of guests.

Is this unlikely-looking child a member of the family?

No, he's Sudsy.

Who are you, mister?

Mr. O'Casey's Butler.

His what?

Before you enter the house, would you mind
removing those absurdly filthy shoes?

They're not shoes, they're sneakers.

Are you a really Butler?

Well, I don't know how really I am,
but I'm quite in the flesh.

Excuse me.

Did Bub all of a sudden become a king or a
duchess or something?

I don't know.

I don't suppose there's a cozy about.

About what?

A tea cozy to keep the teapot warm.

I didn't even know we had a teapot.

Boy, teapot's real goofy.

Like that place where they have all those Englishmen.

You mean English?

Yeah.

This is the first time we've used the silver
since we tried to soft-soap Mike's teacher.

Soft-soap, sir?

Yeah, to keep him from flunking on hygiene.

Didn't work, though.

Incredible.

Now, will you have lemon or cream, sir?

Let's make mine neat.

Hi, Bub.

Hi, Chip.

This is my grandson, Chip, and his pal, Sudsy.

Yes, sir.

I've had the honor.

Hey, who locked this door?

That's my other grandson.

His name's Robbie.

Will you excuse me, sir?

Sure.

Why can't I have locked this door?

How come we got a live Butler all of a sudden?

He's my prize.

Bivens.

He's worth a thousand dollars, including transportation.

Boy, it's a box.

How do you do, Master Robert?

I'm the knothead that locked the door.

Oh, how do you do?

I'm Mr. O'Casey's Butler.

Wow.

How about that?

Your book, sir?

Oh, yeah, it's here.

Your cardigan?

My what?

Oh.

Sure.

And when you get here, Freddy, don't hold it.

Just ring the doorbell.

Yeah, he gets there right away.

He talks real goofy.

Yeah, and he's ours.

See ya.

I'm gonna call Tommy Maness.

Wait till he sees you got a real Butler around here.

Yeah, he's always bragging because his
sister's got a diaper server.

That was swell, Bivens.

By the way, what's your first name?

Bivens will suffice, son.

I didn't ask you what would suffice.

What's your moniker?

Charles, son.

What are we gonna have for dinner, Charlie?

I don't know, sir.

Shall I ask Cook?

Well, that might be a little hard to do.

The cook just got two weeks off.

It was my way of saying that my duties are
not meant to include the preparation of food.

I knew it was too good to last.

Cook just sat back.

You're going to feel pretty stupid standing
around in that outfit serving hot dogs and beans.

Your apron, sir.

Thanks, David.

Excuse me, sir.

Sure.

Oh, you must have something in mind.

Are you in the employ of a tradesman, perhaps?

I don't think so.

He is whack and unwrapped.

He is whack and unwrapped.

Hear what parents are saying.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G to order Hooked on Phonics.

No while about Perry Cushman.

From Sesame Street.

Why do you want to lock the...

Yes?

For tradesmen, we have a side entrance.

I'm not a tradesman.

In that case, good evening, Mr. Douglas.

Good evening.

There was a 50-50 chance.

Yes, I guess there was.

Your hat, sir.

Oh.

I suppose there is an explanation.

Oh, to be sure, sir.

Mr. O'Casey is eager to tell you the glad tidings, sir.

The glad tidings?

Yes, sir.

Bob.

Oh, sit down, Steve.

Bivens is a bit irked that you guys got home so late.

Why, I guess you're Bivens.

Correct.

I am that individual, sir.

Charlie, this is my son-in-law, Steve Douglas.

How do you do, sir?

How do you do?

You got to put your napkin in your lap right away.

Bivens says if you don't, it stamps you as a pumpkin.

It stamps you as a bumpkin.

Look.

Will someone please tell me what's going on around here?

Bub won, Mr. Bivens, Dad.

He won him?

Yeah, in the Mother Barstow food contest.

We've got him for two whole weeks.

Well, I'll be darned.

Oh, serve Steve first, Charlie.

I'm not accustomed to hot food.

As you wish, son.

Great, isn't it, Steve?

You've just got to get accustomed to being waited on.

Took me three seconds.

How many, Frank Fetterson?

Well, just so it comes out even, Bivens.

You may have two.

Bivens, what's going on?

Will you join me in a cup of tea, sir?

At two o'clock in the morning?

I couldn't sleep, sir.

That's probably because your head is still on London time.

No.

I, I began thinking of my intended.

Thousands of miles away.

Yeah, I know what you mean.

I knew a blonde acrobat in Bloomington.

What are you standing there for?

The relationship between employee and employer.

Oh, no, no, no.

Sit down, sit down.

Now, that's an order.

I suppose Mother Barstow would mind just once.

Thank you, Mother Barstow.

Come on, let's, let's hear about your girl.

Angela.

That's pretty.

Angela Cringe.

Angela Cringe?

Yes.

As a matter of fact, Angela is the reason I'm here.

Mother Barstow's money would jolly well
put me over the ruddy border.

Of course, if I quit, I forfeit the salary.

What's money got to do with Angela?

She's a practical little baggage.

She won't think of marriage without security.

Of course, there's the trouble.

She goes to cinemas and imagines herself some beastly
sort of clear patra, but toying with men's heartstrings.

She has other boyfriends?

The two of us, galloping about the world
trying to save up 2,000 pounds.

The first to accumulate that sum wins Angela.

And you still want her?

Passionately.

Well, I can tell you a story about a money-hungry
waitress in Terre Haute that'd flip your accent.

Well, Bivens, here's to love.

Now, the only fire you can't get insurance in.

A cable grand for Mr. Charles Augustus Caesar Bivens.

My father was rather fond of ancient history.

What's this?

Just shilling, old son.

Any bank in London will give you 13 and a
half cents for it.

Bad news?

Angela?

I prefer not to discuss it, sir.

Good day, sir.

Here's your tea.

Good day?

Why so formal?

I'm sorry, sir.

Say, Charlie, half the sports section in
this paper is missing.

Oh, what a pity.

I don't mind the pity.

Just try and find it for me, won't you?

If I may say so, sir, reveling in the
situation is psychological.

Psychologically childish.

Reveling in what situation?

An Irishman giving orders to an Englishman.

Hi, Mr. Bivens.

Hi, Mr. Bivens.

I warned you, Master Foamy.

Out.

Gee, Mr. Bivens, can't he see if he takes his shoes off?

No.

I'm sure the debris and accumulator have
long since penetrated to his socks.

Disappear.

I liked him better when I didn't know what
he was talking about.

O'Casey residence?

Master Robert?

No, I have no intention of calling him.

He's been on the phone well over his quota for today.

Oh, really?

Well, goodbye.

Hey, wait a minute, Maureen.

Hey, Bivens.

How come you went over that?

What quota are you talking about?

It's not only your habitual telephone
mania that needs attending to Master Robert.

Your English borders on a back country dialect.

Hello, I'm Orville Redenbacher.

Do these.

Ouch.

Plus whitening every day.

How'd you get here?

Econ.

Econ puts mice where they belong.

Do you have anything for cramps?

I don't know.

I love tennis.

Well, he was here before dinner, wasn't he?

He must be around here someplace, tr*mp.

Maybe he went down to see his girlfriend,
the one with one brown eye and one blue.

Gosh, all the doors are locked.

Well, just call him, tr*mp.

He's here, sir.

tr*mp!

tr*mp?

Come on, tr*mp.

There's no reason for this chorus.

I don't believe tr*mp can hear you.

Why not?

I am allergic to canine fur, so I deposited your animal in
Foster's Animal Shelter for the remainder of my stay here.

That's my own expense, I may add.

That's done it.

I'll wrap a rope around him and ship him back.

I'm going upstairs and find out what this is all about.

And you fellas stay right where you are.

May I come in?

As you wish, sir.

Sir, Bub, uh, excuse me a minute, hmm?

Dennis, what's wrong?

Have we done something in our flat-footed
American way to upset you?

Not at all, sir.

Bub was so proud of contributing you to our household.

And now all of a sudden you've become very disagreeable.

Well, absolutely.

I suggest that you discharge me, sir.

Immediately.

You do?

Yes, sir.

You see, if I'm not giving satisfaction,
show me no mercy, sir.

Well, you're not giving satisfaction, that's for sure.

Oh, you're right, sir.

I've been quite beastly.

That business with the dog was quite unforgivable.

Shall I consider myself sacked?

Well, I imagine that could be arranged.

Bub?

What's going on here?

What's he so happy about?

He hasn't smiled in the last two days.

He wants to be fired, Bub.

Fired?

Oh, no, you don't.

We want a Butler for two weeks,
and we'll keep a Butler for two weeks.

A hundred and eighty million people in
America, and I have to be won by an Irishman.

I'm pretty miserable about him, too.

Fussing with Chip.

Indeed, sir, that's my private correspondence.

Monty Albert's returning from Cape Town
with two thousand dollars this week.

Hope you do the same.

Love, Angela.

What's the matter with you, Charlie?

Why didn't you tell me about this?

Now, you better get up and pack and get out of here.

You're fired.

Oh, thank you, sir.

Say, Mike, why don't you run the car
around in front of you?

We don't want Mr. Billings to miss his plane.

Well, sir, I'm off.

I'll take it, Mr. Billings.

Now, Charlie, you're sure you're doing the right thing?

Well, probably not, sir, but I can't help myself.

Tell Master Phoney that I'm not quite the
beast I pretend to be.

The same goes for Miss Maureen.

And Master tr*mp.

It would have been so much simpler,
Charlie, if you'd explained the whole thing to us.

We wouldn't have kept you.

I dare say, but I had to be fired and hurry back to Angela.

If I quit, I'd forfeit the salary and Angela.

Hi, Sam.

Cable for Mr. Charles Augustus Caesar Bivens?

That's right.

I don't believe in Tibbs.

Thank you, sir.

Look at that kisser.

Angela must have married that clown from Cape Town.

No.

Quite the contrarism.

Monty, 300 pounds short.

Waiting for you.

Love, Angela.

Well, Charlie, looks like you better be on your way.

Yes.

May I use the telephone, sir?

I'd like to send a cable Grant.

Please, go right ahead.

Overseas cable grants, please.

Dad, that car's out in front.

Say, if we don't get going, he'll miss his plane.

How shall I word this cable to save expense?

Well, uh, that all depends upon what you
want to say to her, Charlie.

Yes.

Hold on a minute, please.

Well, I wish to suggest that money means
too much to her, that I didn't realize it

until I saw her machinations in the cold
print of a cablegram.

Well, I'd say, uh, I know what to tell her.

I'd just tell her, get lost.

Oh, she's lost, too.

Cablegram to Miss Angela Critch,


The message is followed.

Get lost.

Oh, what a mess!

He's there!

Oh, my God!

Stay tuned for another episode of My Three Sons as
this twice as nice morning continues here on TV Land.