All language subtitles for Bewitched S07E24 Out of the Mouths of Babes.DVDRip.NonHi.cc.en.SNY

Feet apart... toes
in... knees together...

legs bent... elbows wide...

and head over the ball.

How do I look?

Like an accident victim

about to putt a ball.

Now, how do I look?

Like a man who's
gonna break par today.

Come in.

Hi, Sam. Darrin.

Hi, Larry. Larry.

That's a new putter, huh?

Yeah.

That's a lovely putter.

Anything wrong, Larry?

It's Mother Flanagan.

Who's she?

She's not a she.

She's an Irish
stew, and she's a he.

It just hurts me here...

Okay, Larry. Let me have it.

Certainly.

That's why I brought
it. For inspiration.

Uh, let me warn you, Larry.

Uh, this putter also
doubles as a deadly weapon.

It's hard to talk sensibly to a
man who's about to mug you.

So I'll fill you in, Sam.

Mother Flanagan is leaving

Sloan and Sloan Advertising

and thinking of coming with us.

Only thinking, mind you.

Do you follow me so far?

Mm-hm.

Oh, don't follow him, Sam.

He's leading you into a
trap. And it isn't a sand trap.

Well, Mother Flanagan
was supposed to be in

a week from Monday, but...

But he's not coming
in a week from Monday.

He's coming in tomorrow.

And all the work that Darrin
was supposed to do next week,

you want him to do today, right?

That's a brilliant
summation, Sam.

Larry, you have a heart

the size of an overgrown pea.

May I?

Mm. Lovely balance.

Mind if I borrow it?

Yes. Thank you.

You mean y...
You're not gonna work

on the Flanagan ideas with me?

Of course I'm going
to work on them,

but you think better sitting...

and I think better walking.

I'll be back right
after my walk,

and we'll compare scores.

Notes.

Ha-ha.

I hope it pours.

The craziest thing
just happened.

There was one
lousy cloud in the sky,

and wham.

How you doing?

Terrible.

Every time I get
close to an idea,

all I can see is Larry
out on that golf course.

Well, forget about
him. Concentrate.

Try thinking music.

A musical campaign.

A jingle. Something
cute. Like, uh:

♪ If it's for Irish
stew You're carin' ♪

♪ You don't have to go To Erin ♪

♪ Ask for Mother Flanagan ♪

♪ And you'll buy
Can and can again ♪

Well, what do you want,
good lyrics or good taste?

Hello, darling.

Good morning, Mother.

Darwin.

Terrific. This is
going to help a lot.

Typhoon Mary just blew in.

Darrin.

Not to see you, Durwood.

I expected you to be
out on the golf course

hitting home runs
or shooting pucks,

or whatever it is you do.

Grandmama.

Oh. There's my little princess.

Hi, Grandmama.

Grandmama has a
delicious surprise for you.

Oh, goody. Heh.

Well, it will be if certain
mortals don't spoil it.

That depends on what

certain witches have in mind.

Oh, Samantha.

Oh, what was the
happiest day in your life?

The day I married Darrin.

I don't mean "insanely" happy.

I mean just "happy" happy.

Well, I've had a
lot of those days.

Do you remember
the Unicorn Handicap?

The Unicorn Handicap?

Yes, it's... It's just like
the Kentucky Derby,

only with unicorns.

Well, they're off and running,

and Grandmama wants to take you.

Forget it.

Tabitha's not going anywhere,

except maybe to the
park to play mortal games.

Mother, I hope you
understand. You too, sweetheart.

I understand he's behaving

like a petulant little boy.

You may think so,
Endora, but the truth is

I happen to be the
head of this household.

And I'm man enough
to stand up to you.

I doubt it.

Don't, Darrin.

Stop, Mother!

Too late.

Now your appearance has
caught up with your mentality.

Sam.

Uh, Tabitha.

Would you mind going outside

and waiting for the mailman?

Oh, gee. I miss all the fun.

Tabitha.

Okay, Daddy.

Mother. Mm.

You change him
back the way he was.

In due time, darling.

When he's ready to apologize.

In the meantime...

I suggest he see a tailor.

Sam. Do something.

Don't just stand there.

Well, you know I can't
undo Mother's spells.

Oh, sorry. So stupid
of me to forget.

Uh... however, I, um...

I-I can substitute
for your friendly tailor.

Sweetheart, try to stay calm.

Calm? I've just been stunted
out of 30 years' growth.

Now, how do you
expect me to be calm?

Get your mother back.

Well, I'll try.

But it might be easier
if you'd apologize.

Apologize? For what?

For daring to stand up to her?

For having a
difference of opinion?

You're hardly in a
position to debate the issue.

The door was
open, and, uh, heh...

Sam, Darrin's putter
worked like magic.

Hi there.

Um, thi... This is
Darrin's nephew.

Darrin's nephew,
this is Mr. Tate.

Hello there, Darrin's nephew.

Does he have a name?

His name is, uh... Marvin.

Peter. Uh, Marvin. Peter!

It's Marvin Peter.

And I also have a
last name: Stephens.

Well, Marvin Peter,

you look a lot like
your Uncle Darrin.

By the way, where is Darrin?

Oh, well, he was up to his hips

in Mother Flanagan's Irish Stew

until a few minutes ago.

Uh, he... He just ran
down to the nursery

uh, to get a few
things for the garden.

Well, then I'll just hang around

till he gets back.

I've got a couple of ideas
for the Flanagan account

I wanna throw at him.

Well, uh, Larry, the thing is

he could be gone for hours.

Well, it's either
here, or going home

and listening to Louise and

her string quartet murder Bach.

I'll leave when they leave.

Which should be around 5:30.

Here's the mail, Mommy.

Oh, uh, thank you, sweetheart.

Auntie Samantha,
could Tabitha and I

go out and play in the park?

I can't think of a better idea.

Boy, this is gonna be fun.

Yes. Now, uh,
e-enjoy yourself, kids.

Okay, auntie.

Marvin has a problem
with his voice, doesn't he?

Yeah, well...

uh, h-he's at that awkward age.

Larry, fix yourself
a drink, will you?

I have something urgent

I have to take care
of in the kitchen.

Boil and bubble Toil and trouble

Mother, get here On the double

"Not until I get an
apology from Durwood."

Ooh!

Sweetheart.

Is the coast clear?

Sure, come on in. Larry
left about 15 minutes ago.

Boy, we had so much fun.

I mean, Daddy played
basketball with the boys,

and they made him captain.

He was better than
almost anybody.

Well.

Why not? I was the
only kid on the team

who was an all-star
forward at Missouri State.

Uh, Tabitha, why
don't you run up

and get ready for dinner?

Okay.

Herbie. I thought I
told you to get lost.

Can't get lost. I
live down the block.

Hi.

Hello.

Boy, something smells good.

Well, I'm sure your
parents will have

a lovely dinner for you.

Nah. On Saturdays we usually

have roast duck or lobster

or Cornish hen, or
some dumb thing like that.

Well, this is even
dumber. It's Irish stew.

Mother Flanagan's
Stew? How come?

Well, I was so busy
with the incan...

Uh, I-I mean, trying
to reach Mother,

that I forgot to take the
roast out of the freezer.

So it's Mother
Flanagan to the rescue.

Wow. Sure gives
a guy an appetite.

Uh, it's a little
early for dinner.

Not for me. I usually eat early.

Uh... would you
like some, Herbie?

Would I? Okay, sit down.

You boys can have
an early dinner,

and then it's home
for you, Herbie.

You'd have been
proud of Marvin, ma'am.

I bet you when he grows up,

he's gonna be a basketball star.

The reason I followed you home

is we're playing the
Blackhawks tomorrow.

We sure could use you.

I told you, Herbie.

I won't be able
to play tomorrow.

He, uh... He has homework.

Gee. We really need him.

Because without you,

we don't stand a chance
against the Blackhawks.

Sorry, Herbie. No chance.

Would you consider
some player incentive?

How about 50 cents? My
daddy is loaded, and maybe...

Ah, here you are, Herbie.

You know...

I've never had Irish
stew in my whole life.

Now I know why.

Y-you mean, you don't like it?

I guess it takes
getting used to.

If I had more time,
I'd get used to it.

But my folks will get worried

if I don't get home soon.

Thanks. I'll be checking
with you tomorrow

about playing, Marvin.

The kid's right. It's blech.

Now, what about your mother?

All you have to do is apologize.

Endora, I'm sorry.

I'm contrite.

I'm apologizing.
I'm even grateful.

You mustn't overdo.

Thank you.

You're welcome. Ta-ta.

What do you mean,
you're "even grateful"?

I mean, if she hadn't
turned me into a kid,

I wouldn't have met Herbie.

And if I hadn't met Herbie,

I wouldn't have realized
the problem isn't advertising.

It's taste. It's as
simple as that.

Which means now I have
even a bigger problem.

What's that?

Convincing Larry to give up

a quarter of a million
dollars in commission.

Well, that
shouldn't be difficult.

No?

No. Just invite
him over to taste it.

You think that'll do it?

No question about it.

Ooh.

You mean, it doesn't
taste good to you.

And it may not
taste good to me...

but that's because our palates

have been spoiled
by expensive food.

We can't appreciate...

the humble Irish stew.

The word is "horrible."

That's your opinion.

Well, our job is to
convince the public

that they like Mother
Flanagan's Irish Stew,

whether they like it or not.

Larry, don't you think you're
being a little hypocritical?

I call it compassionate.

The Mother Flanagan people
think their stew is yummy,

and I'm not the one to break
their hearts with the truth.

Well, Larry, have you
ever heard of integrity?

Yes.

And, Darrin, I didn't become

the president of McMann & Tate

without bending my
integrity occasionally.

And this is one of
those "occasionallys."

So when Flanagan
comes here tomorrow,

see that you have some
mouthwatering ideas.

Is there any bicarb
in the house?

Okay. Sock it to me.

I've been up most of the night

nursing a sick Mother Flanagan,

and just a moment ago,

I think I came up
with the right medicine.

Oh?

Which is the following:

We tell the truth
about the product.

Don't be ridiculous.

- No, no, no, no.
- Hear me out.

The idea is
integrity with humor.

Well, for instance:

uh, "Mother Flanagan's Stew
may not be a gourmet treat,

but at least it's nourishing."

I don't know, Darrin.

Okay, how about this?

"You can say this for
Mother Flanagan Irish Stew:

Even if you don't like it, all
you've blown is 59 cents."

And the account.

Darrin, you must
be out of your tree.

And that's probably him.

Now, let's hear
some positive ideas.

Mr. Flanagan. Welcome.

Hello, Tate.

Ha, ha, ha!

Uh, Samantha,
Darrin. May I present...

Sean Flanagan's the
name. Irish stew is me game.

How do you do? How do you do?

I'm sorry to intrude
on your sacred Sunday.

Not at all, Mr. Flanagan.

At McMann & Tate,
Sunday is just the day

before Monday.

Ah, cut out the blarney, Tate.

If I wasn't so rich and
you weren't so greedy,

you'd tell me to
go to the devil.

Couldn't be helped.

Could we get started?

I have to catch a
plane for Dublin.

Uh, before you get started,

how about a wee
nip of Irish whiskey?

Good idea, Mrs. Stephens. Ha-ha.

Would you help
me get out the ice?

Uh, sure.

Darrin, I have an idea.

Oh, I certainly hope so.

Why not let Marvin tell
Mr. Flanagan the truth?

Sam, you're not suggesting

I go through that
kid routine again?

Think of it this way:

You won't have to
bend your integrity.

You just have
to... shrink it a little.

Besides, Mr. Flanagan has
to catch a plane for Dublin.

Okay, Sam. Zap away.

Okay, kid. Do your stuff.

Where's Darrin?

Oh, the pilot's out in
the stove. He's fixing it.

I'll have mine on
the rocks, Tate.

Uh, right. Uh, right.

Uh, this is my nephew, Marvin.

Marvin, you know Mr. Tate.

Hello, Mr. Tate, sir.

How are you, Marvin?

And this is Mr. Flanagan.

And a top of the morning
to you too, Mr. Finnegan.

No, sweetheart,
that's "Flanagan."

As in Mother
Flanagan's Irish Stew.

Oh, her.

What do you mean,
"Oh, her," young fella?

Nothing, sir.

Have you ever tasted
Mother Flanagan's Irish Stew?

Do I have to answer
that, Auntie Samantha?

Of course not, darling.

You can run out and play.

Uh, no, no. You stay
right where you are.

Have you ever tasted it?

Yes, sir, I have.

Ah. And, uh, how
did you like it?

I'm a Boy Scout, sir,
and I cannot tell a lie.

Please don't ask
me that question.

You can go now, Marvin.

No, no, no. You stay.

I want an answer.

The answer is that I tasted it,

and I didn't care
for it very much, sir.

There are a lot of
radical subversives

infiltrating the Boy
Scouts, and, uh...

Sam, would you
please get Darrin?

Of course.

That kid has a weird voice.

He's at that awkward age.

Thanks, honey.

Good. Now we can
get down to business.

Yeah, well, where's that
kid? I wanna talk to him again.

I'll get him.

He wants Marvin again.

So if you don't mind, Sam,
once more with feeling.

You asked to see me, sir?

Yes, I did. Now, come here.

Why didn't you like the stew?

Because it didn't
taste very good.

Ha-ha. What would
a little kid know? Ha.

It's only my opinion, sir.

The kid's a finicky eater.

Oh, no, Mr. Tate, sir.

I eat everything
that is set before me.

But I couldn't finish the stew.

Scout's honor.

Naturally. The exotic seasoning
is not for a child's taste.

Oh, shut up, Tate.

Why can't we be as
honest as this lad?

That stew is based on me
sainted mother's secret recipe.

But listening to this lad

has brought back memories
of meself as a child.

I remember I hated that stew.

And as I grew up,
I must have been

brainwashed into liking it.

The truth is the
stew was lousy then,

and it's lousy now.

Uh, Marvin, could I
see you for a minute?

Coming, auntie.

It worked.

I heard.

Now put me back.

I'm beginning to
feel like a yo-yo.

Mr. Flanagan?

Mr. Flanagan? Huh?

Is anything wrong, Mr. Flanagan?

Wrong? No, no, no, no.

I was... I was just thinking
about all those warehouses

all over the country full of

Mother Flanagan's Irish Stew,

just sitting there,
rotting away.

It doesn't have to just
sit there, rotting away.

It doesn't?

Uh, Mother Flanagan's Stew
sells for 59 cents a can, right?

Right.

How much of that is profit?

Ah, well, uh, with, uh,
shipping and delivery,

we probably eke out 1
or 2 cents a can profit.

The truth, Mr. Flanagan.

The truth? Well, uh...

The truth is we...

make about 30
cents a can profit.

Why did I say that?

Don't worry. It'll
be our secret.

Okay. Now, suppose
you lower the price

from 59 cents a can
to 39 cents a can.

You'd still make a profit

of 10 cents a can, right?

There wouldn't be
enough buyers at any price.

There would be... if
Mr. Flanagan will make

one small change
in the packaging.

Hm?

What's that?

All you have to do
is change the labels

from "Mother
Flanagan's Irish Stew..."

to "Mother Flanagan's...
Doggy Stew."

Sam!

Ha! She's joking, of course.

No, no, no, wait.

I think Mrs. Stephens
might have something here.

A brilliant idea.

And think of the possibilities.

Do you know how
many dogs there are

in the United States?

Millions.

Why, those warehouses
will be empty in no time.

And how's this for
a TV commercial?

A pair of hands empties a can

of Mother Flanagan's
Doggy Stew into a dish.

Uh, a beautiful Irish
setter lopes into the shot

and gulps it down hungrily.

The... The TV announcer's
voice comes in...

"If it's good enough for
the champion, Erin O'Cork,

it's good enough for your pup."

And it's only 39 cents a can.

Mother may never forgive me,

but I think I've
saved the business.

Do you realize we
got rid of Flanagan

in less than an hour?

And I've still got
time for 18 holes.

That must be Larry.

Hi. Oh, hi.

You must be Marvin's uncle.

Yeah? Oh. Yeah.

Is he ready? For what?

Isn't Marvin coming to
play basketball with us?

Gee, uh, I-I don't know.

It figures. He's sore at me

'cause I was rude.

Rude?

My mother said I was

when I told her about
not eating the stew.

Herbie, you were honest.

Uh, I think that kind of honesty

should be rewarded.

Don't you, sweetheart?

Please let Marvin play.

We're playing the Blackhawks,
and they're a bunch of bullies.

We won't have a
chance without Marvin.

You got yourself
a basketball player.

I'll get him.

I'm getting him, Sam!

I got him.

Hi.

Hi. Come on, let's go.

Bye, Auntie Samantha.

Hi, Sam. Where's Darrin?

Oh, uh, he had a
previous engagement.

But we had a date for golf.

Well, he... He had a
previous date for basketball.

I don't get it. He
could have called me.

It's the least he... Basketball?

He's gone off to
play basketball?

At his age?

Larry... there are some times

when he's a lot
younger than you think.