All language subtitles for mr_belvedere_s05e19_the_book

That human's spent a lot of time up
there lately.

I wonder what he's doing.

I don't know, but I didn't hear any
screams.

I'm home.

Hey, Mom. Hi, honey.

Hi, I'm sorry I'm late. I had to stop
off and get some milk.

Maybe you better take it back.

I don't think we can afford it.

Oh, that time of the month again?

By the time everything's paid for,
there's nothing left.

And I thought with the both of us
working, we'd be doing a lot better.

Well, actually, I am.

It's just, I got so used to paying the
bills out of your paycheck, I've kind of

been depositing mine down at this cute
little bank at the mall.

Did you see the toaster?

So how much do you have in this cute
little bank?

Oh, gee, I don't know. I guess around
$12 ,000.

What?

At any rate, these... journals cover a
three -year

stay with the Owens family.

And I trust as a publisher, you'll find
my observations as insightful and

amusing as I do.

Who's wrong here?

How did you get in here? I thought the
door was locked.

It was.

So, um, what are you doing with all
these books? Mind your own business.

Getting ready to throw them in the
trash?

Go away, I'm busy.

Okay, okay.

Do you want to lock the door?

Throw them in the trash, indeed.

These are going to make me famous.

As you came through the door, no one
glared.

According to our new rival, life is more
than mere survival.

And we just might live a good life yet.

Western, Western Journal!

I think I ought to hide the cheese.

George, we're just helping Kevin with
his cheers. Yeah, I'm going out for the

pep squad.

You sure you got the legs for it?

Come on, George. It won't hurt him to
have a little school spirit.

I know, I know.

Yeah, besides, doing this stuff is the
only way I'll ever get to hold a

cheerleader up by those little ruffled
hands.

Hey, good point.

Wow, Mr. Belvedere, that was great.

I'm glad you enjoyed it. What happened?

Let me drive home.

What?

Actually, the wagon broke down about a
block from here.

I let Wesley steer while I pushed the
remainder of the way.

That's straight up you, big guy. You're
lucky the car didn't roll back over you.

It's okay, Dad. I had my foot on the
brake the whole time.

I guess I better take that heap in
tomorrow.

Cough up another 200 bucks.

No, that's all right, honey.

I'll pay for it.

You will?

Yeah. I mean, I'm a contributing member
of the family now. There's no reason I

shouldn't share our financial
obligations.

Hey, thanks, Mark. So, you really think
it's going to cost $200?

Nah. It'll probably cost more.

I received the manuscript.

And you're quite right.

It's much more impressive all typed up.

Look,

I have to go.

I'll make all the changes and get them
right back to you. Goodbye.

Who's that? No one.

What's this? Nothing. Where's my snack?

Nowhere, sir. Beat it.

Listen up, Mr. Belvedere. You're usually
not so mean to me.

Well, you are, but you're usually a lot
nicer about it.

I'm sorry, Wesley, but Mr. Belvedere has
a great deal on his mind.

Look, here's a dollar. Go and get
yourself some gummy bears.

You know I can't eat those things. They
glue my teeth together and make it so I

can't even talk.

In that case, you're ten.

Hey, Mr. Belvedere. Hi, Heather.

How's Kevin doing with his pep squad
tryouts?

Did that answer your question?

Didn't make the pep squad.

I mean, you should have seen the other
guys I was up against.

Half of them were on the gym team and
the rest were into modern dance.

I look like a total klutz out there.
What happened? Did you collapse the

pyramid?

Sorry.

Anyway, they offered me a job as the
mascot.

All I have to do is fall down a lot and
run around like a jerk.

I guess I figure I can handle that.

Well, I'm sure you'll be a woodchuck
that Wexford can be proud of.

Thanks.

Hey,

what's for dinner?

Something smells great.

It's the family's favorite.

Poached Norwegian salmon in a lime and
ginger sauce.

No, that's not it.

Oh, then you probably mean the boil -in
-a -bag sloppy joes.

I love that stuff.

Now try not to get your buns soggy.

Mom.

Hey, hi.

How'd you make out with the wagon?

Oh, pretty good. I got almost $300 for a
trade -in.

What?

Well, the guy at the garage said that my
gaskets were blown and my block was

cracked, whatever that means.

So I figured, hey, what the heck, I got
the money. I might as well buy the

family a new car.

So I did.

Hey, that's great.

Oh, what did you get us, Miss Moneybags?
Another wagon?

Wait till you guys see this.

Somebody left a brand new Porsche in our
driveway.

You mean Mom?

I didn't even know Porsche made station
wagons.

Mom, car is awesome. You think so?

Yeah, well, you see it, Dad. It's redder
than a baboon's butt.

Sounds great, champ.

Come along, everybody.

Dinner's ready.

Hey, Mr. Belvedere, guess what? Mom
bought a brand new car.

Oh, that's wonderful.

Now we all have something to celebrate.

Everyone enjoy their dinner?

It was delicious, Mr. Belvedere. Well,
I'll be back in a minute with dessert.

It's a chocolate raspberry trifle. Your
favorite.

Now I know he's up to something.

Last time he made that for us, he
wouldn't share it with anybody.

He has been acting a little strange
lately.

Yeah, I went by his room the other
night. He was standing there in a derby

long underwear, thanking everybody for
his Nobel Prize in Literature.

Actually, I was being ridiculous.

The best I could possibly hope for is a
Pulitzer.

Well,

I suppose you all know about the journal
I've been keeping where I write down

about all the quirky little things you
people do.

No.

Oh.

Well, anyway, I have.

And I thought it might be fun to share
it.

With whom?

The rest of the civilized world.

What?

It's being published next week.

I hope you enjoy it.

Hey,

wait a minute.

I'm still worried about the time Kevin
barfed in the church collection for you.

I got nervous.

I didn't have any change.

Well, any comments?

You're fired.

the lovable if somewhat childish
patriarch of the Owens clan, who puts

on his mashed potatoes, Mr. Bubble in
his bathwater, and refuses to sleep

without his trusty Fred Flintstone
nightlight?

Well, it's true.

Yeah, well, that doesn't give you the
right to go around blabbing it to

everybody. And anyway, it's bam -bam.

Sorry.

Look, Mr. Belvedere, don't you think we
should have talked about this first?

I know, it's just that...

But it all happened so quickly with the
publishers and everything.

I wasn't quite sure how to tell you all.

How about, hey, guys, guess what?

I'm writing a book about you.

That would have worked.

Look, if it's any consolation, my
publishers think you're the most

family since the Cosbys.

Or in Wesley's case, the Mansons.

They think that my American journal has
all the makings of a bestseller.

But I couldn't have done it without you
wonderful people.

Does that mean we get a piece of the
action?

No.

Well, since it's already gone this far,
and since I'm sure there's nothing in

there we'd want to sue you over, I guess
it's okay.

Right, guys?

Yeah.

Hey, Mom, what's a prisspot? Why, honey?

Because that's what Mr. Belvedere calls
you.

I'll be upstairs.

Hi, Dad.

Hey, Woody.

How'd the game go?

Unbelievable.

I got phone numbers from three different
cheerleaders, and the homecoming queen

sat on my lap.

Now, Kev, I meant to score.

Oh, I don't know. I think we won.

Dad, it's amazing what women will let
you get away with just because you're in

funny costume.

I guess it's because you look so non
-threatening.

I suppose.

You know those guys at Disneyland?

The ones who dress up like the seven
dwarfs?

They must really make out.

Hey, did I see Mom ahead of three o
'clock appointment to send her Porsche?

Nah, she's not here, kitten.

Oh, come on. I took a shower and
everything.

Well, you know, for something that's
supposed to be the family car, she sure

hogging it. I don't know.

Maybe all this hot rod business is some
new kind of hormonal problem or

something.

Give your mom a couple of days. I'm sure
she'll come to her senses.

I'm home.

I just got this new car alarm. The
decibel level is so piercing, it induces

vomiting in three seconds.

Gee, I can't wait to hear it.

It's here. It's here. My book has
finally hit the shelves.

Oh, yeah?

An American journal, The Suburban Years,
by Lynn Belvedere.

A butler's eye view of the five silliest
people in North America.

What's so silly about us?

Nothing really. It's just published as
hype.

Who's this guy in the back? That's me,
Wesley.

No, it's not. There's not enough chins.

I don't know. Now that this thing is
really a book, it doesn't seem like such

great idea.

Yeah, I thought this was going to be
just some stupid paperback.

I didn't think it was going to look like
this. I mean, somebody might actually

buy it. Well, that's the general idea,
George.

Look, there's nothing to be concerned
about.

The worst that can possibly happen is
the Owens clan becomes an overnight

sensation.

It'll be fun.

No, Hortense, of course I don't blame
you for being upset.

I promise I'll talk to him as soon as he
gets home.

Goodbye.

Hey, Mom.

Wesley, did you paint the Huffnagel's
dog?

Not recently.

Come on, Mom. That was over two years
ago.

Besides, I think I got most of it off
when I shaved him.

Well, Mrs. Huffnagel just read Mr.
Belvedere's book, and she's furious all

again.

Yeah, I'll tell her to get in line.

Ever since that stupid book came out, I
haven't been able to get away with

anything at school.

Not even with the substitute teachers.

I think the chapter on me is required
reading.

This is the Owens residence.

No, the over -eyed, boy -crazy teenage
daughter is not home.

What's that all about?

Oh, just another creep calling me
because of Mr. Belvedere's book. That's

fifth one today.

Well, if it's bugging you so much, why
don't you just disconnect the phone?

Are you crazy?

What if Bruce Willis buys a copy?

Can you help me with this? I think it's
falling apart at the seams.

I'd be glad to help with that. Oh, no,
no, it's all right.

You've already fixed my tail.

I had this cheerleader, Roxanne, all
convinced I was sweet and sensitive.

Then she read in your book about the
time I dumped Wendy at the prom for

girl. Now she thinks I'm some sort of
superficial sex -crazed scumbucket.

Kevin, may I ask you one question?

Sure. Miss Roxanne, did she buy her own
coffee or borrow someone else's?

You see my review in the paper?

It's quite favorable.

That's great, Mr. Belvedere. Anyway,
George, I have an autograph party at

Booktown tomorrow, and I was wondering
if I might take a few hours.

Oh, sure, big guy. Take the whole day.

Take a week.

Take a month.

Take a hike.

No problem.

Oh, no.

We like being the laughingstock of
Beaver Falls.

I wonder what that noise was.

I'm sure he yucked it out.

how much you like it when we write a
book about you.

Yeah, maybe we'll call it What the
Butler Ate.

I know a lot of people who'd be thrilled
to have a book written about them.

Sinatra wasn't.

But all that you people have done is to
criticize carp and cattle the moment the

book came out.

Not one of you wished me luck.

Or even acknowledged that I also
portrayed you as a warm, loving family

Friskpots.

Hello, Booktown.

Yes, madam, we do carry it.

Yes, I'll be happy to put a copy aside
for you.

Thank you for calling Booktown.

Is that somebody making an inquiry about
my book?

No, Vanna White's.

You know, that real sexy -looking gal on
Wheel of Fortune.

You know, the one that turns all the
letters around.

Oh, right.

Has she written a book about that?

had a few vowels left over.

Hello.

Is always this quiet around here?

No, it's only when we have guys like you
sitting in the window.

You see, the thing is that the book
companies...

They always feel that these meet -the
-author things are such a great idea.

But all it does is give people the
willies.

I mean, they don't know whether to buy a
book or give you a donation.

Hey, what happened to all the cookies?

I wouldn't know.

Yeah, well, look, I gotta use the little
boy's room.

Keep an eye on the register, will you?

Why not?

signing this for?

Grungetta P.

Schmendelblecker? My, what a lovely
name.

Oh, no, it's too soon to tell if there's
going to be a sequel.

Perhaps if you bought more copies for
all the Schmendelbleckers at home.

Interrupting anything?

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. It's
just that it's been so hectic, you know,

what with signing and selling and
selling and signing. I don't know where

stop. Yeah, I know what you mean.

Who's Grungetta P.

Schmendelblech?

Looks like you're actually going to sell
one, huh?

What's he talking about, Mr. Belvedere?

I have a small confession to make.

My book is a bomb.

But what about that good review you
showed us?

That was the Beaver Falls recycler.

The New York Times said I was an ersatz
and a bomb back. And the Washington Post

called you the most unlikely collection
of rubes since the Beverly Hillbillies.

I bet Kevin's chest broke.

Now you can go ahead and gloat if that's
what you came down here for.

Actually, we came down to wish you luck.

What? It's just we've been so wrapped up
about ourselves, we forgot how much

this book really meant to you.

Yeah, and you were right.

Once I got past all the bad stuff Marsha
underlined, we actually came off pretty

good. And we appreciate that.

Thank you, George.

But now that everyone thinks you broke
stinks, that's okay with us, too.

afraid you were going to get real famous
and go off to find some other family to

write about.

But now that you're a pathetic has
-been, you're probably not going

Thank you, Wesley, for putting it all in
perspective.

Sure. So, what do you say, big guy? Why
don't you sign one of these for us and

then we'll get the heck out of here. Of
course.

You know, if you folks could wait until
tomorrow, it will probably be half

price.

What's the first part?

Mail call.

What's that? Your cake of the month come
already?

My publishers have very kindly returned
my journals.

Oh, yeah?

That was nice of them.

They sent them postage due.

So much for my writing career.

Hey, come on, Belvedere. So your first
novel went down the toilet. So what?

I bet Dr.

Seuss' first book went down the flusher,
too.

George, Dr. Seuss' first book was The
Cat in the Hat.

Oh, yeah? Well, I always thought it was
Horton Hears a Who.

Anyway, it's not the book so much
anymore. It's just... It's the first

ever failed at something.

Oh, that's not true, big guy. What about
that diet you went on a few months ago?

That was a complete flop.

Thank you, George.

And anyway, the only mistake he really
made was writing about us.

Not your fault we're a boring family.

You know something?

You're right.

I feel better.

See you guys. I'm meeting Angela at the
mall.

Hey, uh, kitten.

You got a boyfriend in, uh, Kuala Lumpur
or something?

Yeah, why?

I got a phone bill here for over $200.

Hey, that's not mine. See, it's his
cellular. That must be for Mom's new car

phone.

What car phone?

Owens residence.

Oh, hello, Mrs. Owens. We were just
talking about you. Give me that.

Marsha, where the hell are you?

I want to see you at home right now, and
I... Oh.

Okay.

Uh, kitten, you want to go out in the
driveway and help your mom bring in the

groceries?

Excuse us.

Hey, look, Marsha, we really got to sit
down and talk about that car.

Oh, honey. Look, I promise, as soon as I
finish breaking in the engine, I'll let

you drive it. I don't want to drive it.
Then what's the problem?

I don't want you to drive it either. I
want you to take it back.

Why?

Well, when I bought the Jeep, you made
me take that back.

Look, George, if it's the money... It's
not the money. Then what is it?

It's just maybe I wanted to buy it for
you.

I mean, you've been dreaming about that
car as long as I've known you.

I remember we'd be bumping along in that
old Pinto we had.

You know, the one with the springs
popping through the front seats?

And then one of those 911s would go
flying by, and your eyes would light up

a Christmas tree.

I guess maybe... I hope someday I'd be
able to surprise you with one. You know,

maybe for our 50th wedding anniversary
or something.

George, I'd be 72.

Yeah, but you'd still be able to shift
for yourself.

Mom.

Honey, what happened?

Nothing. I was just hitting on one of
the other team's cheerleaders.

She didn't tell me she was dating a
Susquehanna skunk.

Well, at least you got a piece of tail
out of it.

Mr. Belvedere will be right back.

Following Mission Impossible.

And as for the Porsche, today George
finally got his first fling behind the

wheel, and possibly his last.

He starts traffic school tomorrow.

Something about exceeding the speed of
light in a hospital zone.

And as for me...

This will be my last entry for a while,
as I'm still stinging from the rejection

of the American book buying public.

I guess I misjudged the appeal of a book
about home and hearth, when all the

people really want is sex and violence.

Maybe I'll try again when Wesley's a
teenager.

I'm Forrest Sawyer. Later on Nightline,
America's national pastime. A look at

Monday's season opening, after a winter
when more news was made off the field

than on it.

Monday at 9, there's love in the air and
murder between the sheets. It's a

deadly affair for Columbo on the Monday
Mystery Movie.