All language subtitles for King of the Hill s03e05 Next of Shin.eng

[Baby wailing]

[Hank chuckles]

That's a cute baby, I tell you what.

We're trying to have a baby ourselves.

He doesn't want anyone to know,
so I'm only telling complete strangers.

I might be able to help you out there.
May I?

It's okay. He is the assistant manager
of Strickland Propane.

[Hank sputtering]

[Baby stops wailing]

[Baby gurgling]

[Soothing instrumental music]

[Hank sighing]

There you go, little fella,
for that "new car� smell.

[Theme song]

[Bicycle bell ringing]

PEGGY: "Fill cup to line.� Okay.

[Gentle instrumental music]

Negative.

That's 12 in a row, Hank.

I think it's time we see a fertility specialist.

He's just gonna poke and prod
my naked nethers. No, thank you.

[Solemn instrumental music]

PEGGY: Even if I get Hank to see the
doctor, he refuses to take his pants off.

You don't take your clothes off
at the doctor's anymore, sug'.

Anything they need to see, they do it
with a new machine called an MRI.

Are you sure they can use it
to look at Hank?

They use it for everything.
Heck, it's the same technology...

we use down at the station
to predict the weather.

I thought you used the Doppler radar.

Sug'...

it's the same thing.

PEGGY: It's called an MRI machine.

You get to keep your pants on.

Dangit, Peggy, how could you tell Nancy
we were trying to get pregnant?

We agreed we wouldn't tell anyone.
Including family.

I mean, Nancy's gonna tell Dale and--

Hank, I have been sitting on these eggs
for 40 years.

They are ready to hatch.

PEGGY: We were hoping
advances in medicine...

might help us to overcome the difficulties
caused by Hank's narrow urethra.

HANK: And that these advances
would mean...

you not looking down there.

That won't be necessary, Mr. Hill.

But I do have to
measure your sperm count.

That means we'll need a sample.

Is that something you do
with a local anesthetic...

or will you have to put me under?

No. Ms. Hill, perhaps you could
explain to your husband.

[Peggy whispering]

[Exclaiming]

[Hank stuttering]

HANK: Busy! Occupied!

It's Dr. Bhudamanjur, Mr. Hill.

Perhaps you'd be more comfortable
trying this at home?

HANK: No.

Would you like a magazine?

HANK: Okay. Do you have
Popular Mechanics?

Ms. Hill, what did you tell him exactly?

Mr. Hill, I've got the results
of your sperm count back from the lab.

Come on, big number. Think big number.

The sample you produced
shows a count of 8 million.

[Peggy exclaims]

[Hank chuckling]

You hear that, Peggy?

Eight million. It must have taken them
a long time to count it.

Of course, the average man
has a count of 100 million.

Hank, honey, just because you scored
8 million on your sperm test...

does not mean
you did not give 110 million%.

I give you an "A" for effort.

[Sighs]

Research shows that heat lowers fertility.

One way to increase
the number of healthy sperm...

is to lower the temperature.

-In the house?
-In your pants.

[Dale stuttering]

Yup.

Yup.

[Boomhauer grunting]

Yup.

All right, Hank. Maybe nobody else
is gonna say anything...

but if we were supposed to
wear shorts today...

I would have appreciated
the courtesy of a phone call.

-Yeah, man, that dang old...
-1, too, am hurt.

All right, I didn't mean to upset you.

I just found out
that my jeans are in the wash.

Now, who's ready?

[Cans clanking]

[Birds chirping]

You know, I'm feeling kind of overheated
myself. Scoot over, would you, Hank?

Just so you know,
I'm willing to drink beer you sat on.

I'm just not willing to reach for it.

[Whirring]

What are you doing
sitting in a wind tunnel, Hank?

You got the prickly heats?

No, sir. Just drying the ink on
all the sales orders I wrote this morning.

Just trying to be polite, son.

I saw the insurance forms
from your weenie doctor.

Those forms
were supposed to be confidential.

And employees
are supposed to wear pants.

But I won't tell if you don't.

HANK: Thanks for the tune-up, Earl.
So how are you fixed for propane?

I'm good. Say, I wanted to ask you.

Let's see. How should I put this?

You ever heard the song Peaches?

Let's see.
I might be able to fake my way through it.

[Hank grunts hesitantly]

[Hank singing]

EARL: No, that's not the reason I asked.

I was thinking about a way
to get your count up.

Oh, God! Was Buck Strickland in here?

EARL: No, but the gal
who cuts his hair was.

Truth be told, Hank, my count used to be
9 million. Almost as low as yours.

But the thing that worked for me
was peaches.

I don't know.

Soak yourself in peaches
three times a day, Hank.

-Well--
-Peaches.

[Pensive instrumental music]

-Well, what did the test say?
-We won't know for another 20 seconds.

But no matter what the result,
I don't blame you.

Sperm counts are dropping
all over the world.

And I don't blame you for that, either.
Hank, we've both worked very hard.

And I could feel we're getting closer,
honey. It is within our grasp and--

That's 20 seconds.

[Sighs despondently]

Negative.

[Doorbell rings]

HANK: Dad, what are you doing here?

You didn't talk to
Buck Strickland's hair stylist, too, did you?

Not in two years.
Thought I'd drop by for a surprise visit.

-Hey, Hank's wife.
-Cotton.

Didi woman, hurry up with my bags.

[Didi groaning]

[Soft instrumental music]

She ain't fat. I gots her knocked up.

[Cotton slurping]

We was using four layers of protection
and my men still got through.

Please, Dad, there's a child present.

She's my wife, Hank.
She was there when it happened.

Ain't that right, baby cakes?

If you say so, Cotton.

This is such exciting news.

I am very excited now.

You know, at your age, Cotton,
having a child will be such a blessing.

If it's a boy.

Dad, I think what Peggy's saying is...

that it's not very often
that a man of 75 fathers a child.

-I mean, when the boy's 18, you'll be--
-I'll be dead. Pass the beans.

My sources tell me
that Hank's the problem.

It's very hush-hush.
Even his own daddy don't know.

Man, you don't hear it from me, man.

Dang old reliable source,
Dr. Rhada Budamatahara, man...

talking about
that dang old chilly willie, man.

-Good God! Have you gotten fatter, fatty?
-Sir, yes, sir.

Colonel, let me be
the first to congratulate you...

on the impregnation of Hank's stepmother.

Bingo.

Just think, Hank. If your doctor
helps you and Peggy get pregnant...

your baby and Cotton's baby
can play together.

Damn it, Bill!
So, Dad, you must be pretty happy...

about them executing
that woman in Huntsville.

Hank, has you been
having trouble baby making?

No.

Is it 'cause of that skinny pipe
in your thingy?

We're not having any trouble.
These things take time.

I ain't got a narra uretee.
He gets that from his mother.

Mine's so damn wide
I could pass the child myself if I had to.

[Dale guffawing]

[Mischievous instrumental music]

DIDI: Peggy. this is very nice of you.

But I just feel awkward
letting my stepdaughter buy me a crib.

No. We want to.

It's our gift to you
because we're so happy for you.

HANK: Yeah, I think you've mentioned that,
Peggy.

SALESWOMAN: Mrs. Peggy Hill,
nice to see you again. Still just looking?

Yes, I mean, no.

Actually, we are here today to buy a crib.

My Lord! Congratulations!

I knew you could do it, mister.
And you're already showing.

What?

Gather round, expectant fathers.

Our free diaper-changing seminar
is now beginning.

[Dramatic instrumental music]

[Snarling]

[Epic instrumental music]

[Yelling]

[Spring squeaking]

[Screaming]

[Cotton muttering]

Didi woman, I need a drink.

[Pleasant instrumental music]

COTTON: I didn't plan for this.

You think I planned for this?

[Sputtering]

You know how it is.

You dim the lights, put a little
Andrews Sisters on the phonograph and...

You likes the Andrews Sisters, Bobby?

Likes them? I loves them.

[Bobby burps]

Next thing you know...

your grandmammy's
got a biscuit in her oven!

[Cotton sighing]

I'm too old to be having babies.

We both are, mister.

Your daddy's the right age
to be having babies.

Poor Hank and Hank's wife.
They want another baby real bad.

[Gasps]

-They do?
-Yeah.

They flew a doctor in from Calcutta.

Maybe he'll find a way
to get you a baby brother.

A brother. Baby brother.

[Bobby snickering]

Mom and Dad are gonna have another kid?

I guess they wanna get it right this time.

[Lively instrumental music]

Dad, are you busy?

No, son.

Just checking the percentage
of man-made fibers in these fuel filters.

Yup, it's 30%.

That's very interesting.

You know,
I'm very interested in things like that.

[Bobby sighing]

Okay, then it's settled,
you and Mom won't have another baby.

[Hank gasps]

-How did you find out about that?
-Grandpa told me at the bar.

It's not fair.

If I knew this could happen,
I'd have worked harder over the years.

You know, exercised,
cut back on the fruit pies...

gotten a few "B's" to raise my average.

This isn't because you're not good enough.
You're great.

And two of you will be twice as great.

The only reason I look so good
is 'cause there's no competition.

You have another kid,
and I'll look like a failure.

[Sentimental instrumental music]

Believe me, Bobby, you're not the one...

who should be worried about
looking like a failure.

You're not in competition with anybody.

Didi: Hank! Hank!

-Cotton's missing. He's run away.
�What? Are you sure?

Yes. He had me load his bags
into the Cadillac car.

Peggy, my dad got out.
We gotta go find him.

Dad, "Miss Arlen Hostess
Swimsuit Competition.�

Maybe Grandpa's in there.

Good thinking, son.

HANK: Check the parking lot
for your grandpa's Cadillac.

Okay.

Look at him, Peggy. Look at him run.

Makes you realize what a blessing he is.

PEGGY: He is our miracle child.

Exactly. And it'd be awfully greedy of us
to expect a second miracle.

So you can see the only sensible thing
to do is to stop trying to get pregnant.

What?

Hank, I know you are frustrated...

and I know you look dopey in short pants...

but we've both worked too hard
to give up now.

We? What have you done?
I've been sitting in an igloo.

You think I like to see that
out my kitchen window?

Well, if you wanna keep trying,
you can keep trying by yourself.

[Peggy gasps]

What did they say at the police station?

Okay. Grandpa Hill is not a missing person
until he's gone for 48 hours.

But this really nice policeman
gave me his home phone number.

I'm probably not gonna be able to
help you look any more tonight.

Any calls, Didi?

Just one. But I let the machine get it
because I didn't want to tie up the line.

[Beeps]

COTTON: It's me. I hope you ain't out
looking for me 'cause if you are...

you ain't gonna find me
and I ain't coming back.

Hank, I need you to raise Didi's baby
and Didj.

[Answering machine beeps]

Dangit! He could be anywhere from Arlen
to who knows where.

Dad!

We can use star 69
and find out where he called from.

[Phone ringing]

MAN: Yeah.

Hello? Who is this, please?

-Who's this?
-This is Hank Hill.

Yeah.

-Where am I calling?
-I'm at the corner of Sierra and Flamingo.

-Sierra. Is that Dallas?
-It's Vegas, Hank.

Well, that just tears it. He's in Las Vegas.

Pretty smart of me, huh, Mom?

I doubt some little baby
would know how to dial star 69.

HANK: All right, if I drive all night,
I can get to Vegas by the morning.

-I'll call you when I've found a motel.
-You bring him back, Hank.

That little ferret thinks he can have it all.
A child and a Vegas trip.

Well, I didn't get either this year.

Bobby, I'm gonna need you
to be the man of the house while I'm gone.

Sure, Dad, I'll be the man of the house...

while still fulfilling my duties
as the child of the house.

Hank, my stepson,
Cotton is small and sneaky.

How will you ever find him?

DALE: I'll tell you how he'll ever find him.

With the finest mail order surveillance
equipment the Libyans have to offer.

Not now, Dale.

Couldn't hear you, Hank.

But if you are asking if I am
a licensed professional bounty hunter...

I think this hat speaks for itself.

Well, all right,
I guess I could use some help driving.

Maybe we can put that thing to some use
and sing karaoke to stay awake.

DIDI: Adios.
PEGGY: Drive careful.

[Lively instrumental music]

[Tires screeching]

[Grunts]

[Bill groaning]

[Cheerful instrumental music]

[Hank and Bill singing]

BILL: Are we there yet?

[Upbeat instrumental music]

All right. Now, if we're gonna find him
we need to think like my dad would think.

DALE: Eight topless bars and no Cotton.

'Course you'd be a lot more help
if you'd open your eyes, Hank.

Hank, I'm in love.

That was the finest deep-dish pizza
I ever tasted.

HANK: The Andrews Sisters?
I didn't know they were still alive.

They're my dad's favorite.

['50s pop music]

[Bill and Dale singing along with artists]

Thank you, Las Vegas, and good night.

HANK: Excuse me, ladies.
That was just wonderful.

My dad has all your records.

And I wonder, coincidentally,
if he might have been in here tonight.

SINGER: Mm-hmm.

He was here.
That little firecracker grabbed my rear.

He does like the ladies.

Right. So when he figured out I wasn't
really a sister, he started breaking plates.

They threw him out.

[Gasping in horror]

Excuse me, folks. Have any of you seen
an older man about yea high...

possibly shouting obscenities?

Welcome to my world, pal.

[Men complaining]

[Energetic instrumental music]

[Horse neighing]

[Building exploding]

[Clicking]

Don't stand too close
to the machines, Hank.

The electromagnetic fields
could defertilize you.

That's nonsense, Dale.
And, anyway, Peggy and I have decided...

to stop trying for another baby,
not that it's any of your business.

Jeez, Hank, you shouldn't give up.
I mean, if your dad can have a baby--

This has got nothing to do with my dad.

You know what?
I'm tired. I want to be alone.

Why don't you guys
go check the poker tables?

[Dale grunts]

[People chattering in background]

ELVIS IMPERSONATOR: Wonderful.
Thank you very much.

BARTENDER: What will you have?
HANK: Beer.

BARTENDER: Heineken--
HANK: American.

Say, do you allow children in the casino?

BARTENDER: No way. No one under 21.

Huh.

[People chattering]

Hello, Dad.

Don't you unstrap me. I ain't going back.
You can't make me.

I didn't come here to bring you back.
I just came to let you know...

that I'll look in on Didi,
and the baby, and the new husband.

What? Who is it?

I forget his name.
Terry or Jerry or something like that.

I think he's a dancer at Chippendales.

Give me his address. I'll gut him.

Dad, I just made him up.
But you see how worked up you got?

You still love Didi. Now come on home.

[Cotton exclaims]

I was going back anyway.

Got to find me Mr. Terry-Jerry
and gut him up good.

Did you get what's her name
knocked up yet?

No, we've...

I've decided not to have another child.

The whole idea's upset Bobby too much.

I always knew you was a quitter.

You're the one
who always flips up the board...

when you're losing to me at checkers.

I never lost to you.
And we haven't played checkers in years.

[Cotton exclaims]

I get it. I got Didi pregnant,
and you can't with Hank's wife.

So you're flipping up the board.

Yeah, that's right. I'm giving up.
You win. You happy?

Hank, you ain't in competition with me.

Hell, if it's a contest
on who's the better daddy, you win!

I mean, you made Bobby.
All I made was you.

Thanks, Dad.

But what if I keep trying,
and, you know, it doesn't happen?

Well, then, you had the fun of trying, boy.

- I gots to have that talk with you.
-Sounds good, Dad. Let's go.

Hold on, Hank.
Nobody knows you found me yet.

What do you say you and me
have some fun tonight in Vegas?

[Grunts hesitantly]

Sure. Okay.

Eight the hard way.

[Jovial instrumental music]

Three craps. You lose.

What?

HANK: No, Dad!

[Cotton yelling]

[Cotton yelling]

COTTON: That was practice.

[Theme song]

[Hank stuttering]

HANK: Busy! Occupied!

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