06x03 - If Al Had a Hammer

[bunniefuu]

Okay, everybody.

It's time for the weekly
Bundy baby progress report.

Well, I can sense
your excitement.

So even though
one of us is missing,

I think we should still begin.

Uh, let's start with the
reading of the minutes

from our last meeting.

Kelly?

"At the beginning
of the last meeting,

"I suggested we have
no more meetings.

"It was seconded
by Bud, my brother,

"and Dad, my daddy.

"We stared dully at
Mom and then were forced

"into a chorus of
'We Love the Baby.'

"Then Mom left to
pee, and Dad suggested

"that we play a gleeful
round of How Fat Is She?

"Dad guessed 415 pounds.

"We all laughed, and Dad said:

'Don't write this
down, Pumpkin.'"

That concludes my report.

Let the record show
your father is a weenie.

And now, can we have a
report from the treasury?

Let the record show your
father has nothing in his pants.

Oh, my God. Baby meeting.

Get back here, young man.

Yeah, pay your
respect to the fetus

just like the rest of us.

O, most glorious
inhabitant of the womb,

please accept the blessing
of this unworthy one.

I love you more
than I love myself.

Hail baby.

The baby is pleased.

You may sit.

Listen, I have great news.

As the only intelligent,
living male Bundy,

I am proud to announce that
I have gotten a scholarship

and I'm going to junior college.

And, uh, just how does
that pertain to the baby?

Thank you.

So I decided to start
college across town,

instead of in this neighborhood,

where I seem to
have been accused

of being a total social failure.

Aw, don't be so
hard on yourself, Bud.

I mean, I'm sure
lots of cool guys

spend their Friday nights
watching Star Trek reruns,

hoping to catch a glimpse
of Klingon cleavage.

Let the record show

that I was wetting the
screen with my tongue

to clean it.

To continue...

Chicks love new blood.

So I'm assuming a
whole new identity.

As of now, my story
is I'm a bad-boy rapper

from the streets of New York.

Goodbye, Bud Bundy.

Hello, Grandmaster B.

What does the B stand for?

Brother of an idiot.

Oh.

Anyhow, if anyone asks,

my parents sent me out
here to clean up my act,

'cause I either k*lled a guy

or spray-painted a tree
or a bum or something.

Uh, excuse me,
but isn't that the plot

for The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?

Well, that's an NBC show,
so who would know that?

So if anyone asks, I'm
not related to any of you.

And I'm coolly dangerous.

I am not going to
be dateless this year.

Now, if you've finished, Bud,

we would... Uh, B.

And just yesterday
he was in diapers.

Literally.

I k*lled a man in
New York, you know.

Oh, forgive me, Ghostbuster B.

It's Grandmaster B.

Of course, honey.

Now, let's get back
to the baby meeting.

Given the fact... And I
would like this to go on record.

That your father earns nothing,

it seems that we are gonna
be a little pressed for room

when the blessed event comes.

Hail baby. Hail baby.

Who is loved more than all
babies that came before him.

Now, since we
have limited space,

I would like to move that
the baby share a room

with Daddy and me.

We'll just put a crib
at the foot of the bed.

I would like the record to show

that I would rather sleep
in a bunk bed under Oprah.

I would rather engage
in a frolicking threesome

with Roseanne and
her cool husband.

I would rather
play naked Twister

with every one of
the Golden Girls

than have that little,
screaming doodie-geyser

at the foot of my bed.

I've said my piece. Thank you.

Hail baby.

All right then,
let's have a vote.

All those in favor of
the baby sharing a room

with Mommy and Daddy?

Opposed?

I must use my veto power.

Motion is carried.

Veto! Veto, I say!

All right, everybody,

I'll see you at the
next baby meeting.

But for now, Mommy
must use the bathroom.

Al, if you would be so kind...

I'm warning you, Peg.

You will not make a
mockery of my veto power.

I am the man of the
house, and my will is law!

For the record, she's
now up to 500 pounds.

This is my temporary crib, babe.

Thanks for carrying my books.

Anything to help keep
your g*n-hand free,

Mixmaster B.

That's Grandmaster B.

And I don't carry a g*n anymore.

Because I have a new
life here in Bel-Air...

I mean, Chicago.

Have I shown you my scar?

You scare and excite
me when you talk like that.

Take me.

First, do it for me, B.

Give me your rap.

All right.

♪ He came from the streets
Where everyone's meat ♪

♪ g*ns in the night
Put you under a sheet ♪

♪ Can't love no one
'Cause he's on the run ♪

♪ Sleeps in the alleys
Wakes by the sun ♪

♪ Listen to the sirens
Thinkin', "They're for me" ♪

♪ It's a lonely life
For Grandmaster B ♪

♪ Yes, a lonely life
For Grandmaster B ♪

And now...

you may take me.

Thank you.

No problem.

Oh.

Well, look.

My little man is
getting his first kiss.

You're the coolest, Grandma B.

That's Grandmaster B.

Look, babe,

I think I'm gonna
have to rap my way

out of the rent now.

Now, you go on home
and wait by the phone.

'Cause if I call and
you're not there,

you go to the
bottom of the list.

What did I tell you two?!

I am Grandmaster B.

Grand. Master. B.

Mommy, I'm cool. You're
ruining it for me! I'm cool.

Gee, I'm really sorry,

Grand Marshal B.

No, Mom, I think
it's Bed Wetter B.

Are you sure? I thought
it was Court Jester B.

Peg! Peg!

Guess what I found in the attic.

It's something of my father's

that served him
well for 20 years.

And now will serve me
for the rest of my life.

A pair of socks?

Bud, what do you think I found?

I-if it's a rubber woman,
Dad, I can explain.

You send away for
one Archie comic,

the next thing you know,
they put you on a list...

Ah, with you...

Pumpkin?

You found a pumpkin, Daddy?

Well, I... I guess
I'll tell you all,

since none of you
singly deserve to know.

I found my father's hammer.

Ooh.

This hammer has been in
my family for generations.

With this, my father hit
the now-famous Bundy nail.

And upon that nail,
he did hang his hat.

♪ E-I-E-I-O ♪

My dad had one great dream,

and that dream was handed down

from generation to
generation of male Bundys:

to build their own room

and live separately
from their wives.

Sadly, they all failed.

No, genetically they all failed.

Well, not me!
I'm going to do it!

Look, Dad. I've got your hammer.

Your little boy's gonna
build his own room.

Mom, who is he talking to?

Grandpa.

Hi, Grandpa.

Look, Dad, I'm
building my own room.

I dedicate the
first nail to you.

Damn cheap Sheetrock!

I can't believe you're
gonna let that moron

move out of your room.

Marcie, you're assuming

he can actually do this.

You know the Bundy legacy:

what they don't
finish in 30 seconds,

they never finish.

Besides, you
know, it's important

to let your man fail
in front of your eyes.

It's a great thing to see.

You know the fun we have
watching them fail at sex.

Do I ever.

Like when you say:

"It's okay, honey.

"I'm sure it happens to all men.

It doesn't mean there's
anything wrong with you, does it?"

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Or... Or when you say:

"It's okay, honey.

You're probably just tired
and unsure of your manhood."

Or, "It's okay.

"We can just lay here
and hold each other.

That's just as good."

And then when they lay
their head on you like a child,

trembling, it is just as good.

God, you just want to laugh.

Well, believe me when I tell ya,

it is just as much
fun to watch 'em fail

with their clothes on.

Watch.

I can't get the nails
to go in straight.

Gee, honey,

it's probably just
because you're tired

and unsure of your manhood.

I did not fail.

I'll build that room!
I will, it's just...

I've got a lot on
my mind right now.

Mom, do you think he's
actually doing something in there?

Oh, honey, must I remind
you of his family tree?

Do we not remember
Amadeus Bundy?

Who, when Alexander Graham
Bell patented the telephone,

tried to patent shouting
as a cheaper alternative?

Oh, or how about
Wrong-Way Bundy,

the original inventor
of the shotgun.

Only he never quite
perfected which way to point it.

We later called him
Headless Bundy.

But, Mom, Dad's
not like the others.

He sells shoes.

It's done!

Now, come in and take
your first and last look.

All right now, kids.

Daddy has worked
very, very hard at this.

And it means a lot to him.

So nobody laugh until I do.

Wow, Al.

You did all this
with just a hammer?

Not just a hammer, Peg.

Dad's hammer.

Well, Al, you're not really
thinking about moving away

from me and the baby?

Thinking of it? I've done it!

Be gone, jackals!

But, Al...

At last...

I can do what every
male Bundy wants to do.

Well, they're out of sight.

I wonder how long it'll
take till they're out of mind.

Done.

Well, that must be
that life I ordered.

Hi, Al.

Please, Al, let
me stay with you.

I'm afraid of Marcie.

She wants sex all the time.

I mean, having sex with your
pregnant wife is... It's like...

Well, it's like putting
gas in the t*nk of a car

you've already wrecked.

Well, thank God mine
pulls into self-service.

Al? Al, I'm begging you.

I mean, you remember what it
was like when you first got married?

Sex wasn't enough.

They also want, God help me,

foreplay.

Ugh. Shh.

There, now, now, now. Al's here.

Take it easy, now, big fella.

Save me.

All right, but just one night.

And on one condition:

What? It's just you and me,

and you don't tell one
single guy about this place.

I swear.

Hey, Bobby, throw me that.

Tater storm.

Mm. Mm.

Maybe I wasn't being
clear when I said tell no one.

Oh, come on, Al. It's okay.

We're just having
some good, clean,

normal, guy fun.

Come on, pull my finger.

Come on.

Hey, Al, it's my arm.

And I thought I ran with
a cool pack in high school.

Hey, Al, do you mind

if we turn out the lights
and tell some scary stories?

Gee, I thought we'd strip
down to our underwear

and sing "Puff
the Magic Dragon."

Al, uh, my underwear's
got a hole in it.

Well, then maybe you
could play the guitar.

What's wrong with you idiots?

Don't you realize
that any second,

the women are gonna come
pouring through that door?

Don't you know they can sense
a man smiling a mile away?

Oh, Al, don't worry about it.

I had all the guys promise

that they wouldn't tell anyone.

Right, guys? ALL: We swear.

And so I move that this
room shall be our clubhouse

for our newly-formed
ladies' group W.O.M.B.,

which stands for "Women
Owe Men Bubkes."

All in favor? WOMEN: Aye.

Opposed?

Veto.

Motion carried.

Now, ladies, are
there any complaints

that we'd like to share?

Yeah, I got hemorrhoids.

I've got varicose veins.

Well, I've got an itch my
husband refuses to scratch.

I'm sorry.

Excuse me,

where do we go when
we're feeling emotional?

We can use Al's bathroom.

Thou shalt not insult my
bowl with pregnant heinies.

Where are you going, Al?

Ladies,

and by that I mean you guys,

I'm going to tear
this room asunder.

It is evil. It has been
tainted, woman-ed.

It must be destroyed.

Keep the gates open, Dad!

I got a busload comin' for ya!

Go for it, son.

Well, for this special
baby meeting,

we'd like to welcome Daddy back.

A man who kept his
garage up for five hours,

which is four hours longer

than he could
keep his zipper up.

Let the record show

that the chairperson
shares not only the wit

but also the body
of Buddy Hackett.

Duly noted.

Let it further show

that Daddy also discovered
an important thing today.

The true legacy of
Dad's hammer is failure.

Dad failed with
it, I failed with it,

and every male Bundy who
comes after me will fail with it.

And speaking of failure,

where's the other male Bundy?

You mean the Bushwhacker?

No, it's the Burgermeister.

No, it's the Buckminster.
Wh...? What is the difference?

Where is the little boil?

Where'd you get this scar?

Was it in Desert Storm?

Well, I had my own
little Desert Storm, baby,

in the streets of New York.

Yep, we're the warriors

that don't get the
ticker-tape parades.

Oh, Grand Flasher.

That's Grandmaster.

Grandmaster.

Now, kiss me before I do.

Dustbuster?

Dustbuster, are you okay?

Shut up. I'm dying, you buffoon!

Mommy!

Mommy!