Original subtitles

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.