Original subtitles

- You sit there until your father comes home, young man.

Sitting in a corner isn't nearly enough

punishment for what you did.

And don't think you can make me feel badly

by giving me the silent treatment either.

I'm sick and tired of having to apologize

to the neighbors for a little boy who should know better

and who constantly-- Dennis.

Dennis?

Who are you?

- I'm Herby.

Dennis gave me a penny to take his place.

[theme music]

- Hey, Tommy.

There's good old Mr. Dorfman, mixing up his mail.

- Yeah.

He's all the time sitting there and mixing it up.

- Sorting the mail, not mixing up the mail.

- But Mr. Wilson says you mix it up.

- One letter three years ago and he's still complaining.

- Hey Mr. Dorfman, look at these swell pounders we found.

- Pounders, you say?

- Sure.

You pound them on a thing, then you pound them

on a piece of paper, and then you read what it says.

- Oh.

Boys, the proper name for one of these things is a rubber stamp.

We use a lot of them down at the post office.

- I know it.

And you know what?

With these pounders, we're gonna be mail men.

- Well, I think you'd do better to play something else.

There's no fun being a mailman.

- Sure there is, Mr. Dorfman.

We want to get cakes, and pies, and presents at Christmas,

just like you do.

- Yeah.

And we wanna sit on a private bench,

just like you're doing right now.

I know, Tommy.

We'll build us a private bench to sit on.

- Every mail man's gotta have a bench.

- I don't know, boys.

The city's gonna tear down this old bench

to make way for a parking lot.

- You mean they're gonna tear down

your good old bench, Mr. Dorfman?

- That's right.

- But you'll have no place to sit and mix your mail!

- You use your bench a whole lot.

You're gonna miss it.

- Yeah.

We see you sitting on your bench 100 times a day.

- Oh, I don't think I sit on it that often.

- I'll tell you what, Mr. Dorfman.

You can use the bench that me and Tommy are gonna build.

- Sure you can.

- And if you need any help mixing up your mail,

me and Tommy'll help you mix it.

- Well thanks, Dennis.

- Come on, Tommy.

Let's get started.

- Dennis, where you get these stamps?

- Oh, behind Mr. Quigley's store.

- Mr. Quigley sure throws away some swell trash.

- Dennis, how many times have I told you?

I won't have you fishing in other people's trash cans.

- Oh, we didn't fish, Mrs. Mitchell.

- A dog knocked over the trash can

and these pounders fell right spang on the sidewalk.

- Well, all right, you can keep them this time,

but no more rummaging in trash cans.

- OK, mom.

Me and Tommy are gonna play mail man

and we're gonna build a resting bench.

So, can we borrow dad's tools?

- And we're gonna let Mr. Dorfman sit on it.

MARGARET (OFFSCREEN): Dennis!

- We'll put the tools right back. MARGARET (OFFSCREEN): Dennis!

- Well, aren't you going to answer her?

- Heck no, mom.

That's just dumb old Margaret.

- She hollers for a while, then she goes away.

- Dennis, you march right to that door

and let that poor little girl in.

- Jeepers, mom, she's not a poor little girl.

She's Margaret. - March.

- Hello, Mrs. Mitchell.

I knew you'd make him let me in.

- Well, uh, I'm sure that Dennis and Tommy just

didn't hear you call the first time, Margaret.

- Oh yes they did, Mrs. Mitchell.

- Where'd you get those old rubber stamps, Dennis?

- None of your beeswax, Margaret.

- We just got them somewhere.

- Well, they're no good unless you have an inkpad to make them

work. - Yeah?

Well me and Tommy are gonna play mail man,

and we're going to build a bench for Mr. Dorfman,

and-- and you can't sit on it.

- You got ink pads?

- Well, no.

Have you? - Sure.

I've got two of 'em.

- Can we borrow one?

- No.

- Well, how about if we let you play mailman once in awhile?

Then could we borrow one?

- I tell you what.

I'll be the lady that's married to Dennis,

and he works at the post office all day.

And he gets to stamp lots of packages

because he has plenty of ink pads.

And Francine will be my newest baby,

and Dennis will have to feed her when

he comes home from the post office.

- Hi, Mr. Wilson.

- Like a magnet.

- Huh?

- I was just saying to myself that it's

some sort of minor miracle that every time, not sometimes,

mind you, but every time I start a new project over here,

you show up.

- I noticed that too, Mr. Wilson.

I guess we're just lucky. - Lucky.

Yeah.

Same kind of luck I have at Cribbage.

All right, now, Dennis, to forestall a few thousand

questions, this is a cement form.

A form for cement, which I will pour some day when

you go to visit your grandfather.

- How come you're gonna wait so long, Mr. Wilson?

- Because it dries without footprints that way.

- Oh.

- All right, now, Dennis, if you don't

have some reasons for coming over here,

will you please go away?

- Oh, I have a reason, Mr. Wilson.

Me and Tommy are gonna p mailman,

and we're gonna build a resting bench for Mr. Dorfman.

So could you give us--

- Oh, yes.

That's right.

He's going to lose that old bench over in the park,

isn't he?

- Yeah, and he needs it to sit on.

Could you give us some wood?

- Well, I'm but that I've used up all my wood.

And I'm fresh out of paint, I'm fresh out of nails,

I'm fresh out of shingles.

That just about takes care of everything, doesn't it?

- Everything but ink pads.

You got any ink pads, Mr. Wilson?

- Now, what on earth do you want ink pads for?

- For these.

You can't run a post office without these, Mr. Wilson.

- I see.

Well, I'm sorry, but I'm fresh out of ink pads, too.

Why don't you get a wet sponge, or something?

Or wet down the stamps.

I'd imagine ink that's still on them show through for awhile.

- Boy, yeah!

Boy, it works!

- Fine.

One good favor deserves another.

Good bye, Dennis.

- I was gonna tell you, but you sat down too fast.

- Well, you could have solved the whole thing

by not putting it there in the first place.

All right, good bye again.

- Boy, wait 'til I tell Tommy. - Yeah?

Tell Tommy what?

- His stamp works, too!

- Great Scott!

- Hi, lady.

Hi, Mr. Thompson.

- Hello, Dennis.

Mrs. Toland, this is Dennis.

Dennis, Mrs. Toland just bought this house, next to Mr.

Wilson's. - You have?

- Yes.

- Have you got any stuff to build things out

of that you could give me?

- Well, I think I did see some things back there.

What are you building, Dennis?

- A resting bench for Mr. Dorfman.

- He's the postman, Mrs. Toland.

They're taking down the old postman's bench in the park,

and a lot of people are quite upset about it.

It's quite a relic.

- And you're going to build him a new one?

Is that it?

- Yes, ma'am.

- That's charming.

- Dennis, come on home!

I want you to go to the store for me.

- OK, Mom!

- I have to go to the store now, Mrs. Toland.

But when I get back, can I have the building stuff?

- Why, yes, if you can find anything out there.

- OK, Mrs. Toland.

Hey, Mrs. Toland, would you like me

to get anything at the store for you?

- No, Dennis.

I can't think of anything.

- Like one of those candy bars that breaks into two pieces,

in case you want to divide it with any friends

you happen to have?

- No, Dennis.

No, I guess not.

- OK.

Bye, Mr. Thompson.

Bye, Mrs. Toland.

- Bye, Dennis.

- As I was saying, Mrs. Toland, your property line

extends about a foot and a half beyond Mr. Wilson's fence.

Now, none of the other previous property owners

wanted to do anything about it.

- Well, neither would I. It would mean taking down his fence

and destroying his lovely flower bed.

I wouldn't dream of it.

- I'll be right with you, Mr. Sanderson.

Now, Mrs. Hannah, let's see.

Two dozen eggs.

Milk.

Two dozen-- oh, I already rang those up.

Oranges.

[bell ringing] - No.

Not today. Dennis!

Stop that!

- I was just showing Stewart how your bell works, Mr. Quigley.

My mom wants some groceries, and I need some building stuff.

- Well, you'll have to wait your turn, Dennis.

I'm very busy today.

- Oh.

'Scuse me, Mr. Quigley.

Is there anything we can do to help while we're waiting?

- No, thank you.

- We can shoo the flies out for you.

- No, thank you.

- Boy, you sure got a bunch of 'em in here.

- No, thank you!

- Good old Mr. Quigley likes to shoo his own flies out.

- Now, what was it, Mr. Sanderson?

- Oh, a carton of ginger ale.

- Oh, all right.

- Watch Mr. Sanderson, Stewart.

- Anything else?

- Maybe he'll do one in a minute.

- Are you talking about me, Dennis?

- Yes sir, Mr. Sanderson.

- Maybe I'll do what in a minute?

- Your trick.

- I know something I'd like you to do for me,

and that's keep your little friend here out

from under my feet, Dennis.

- Oh, I'll need some, uh, pint tobacco.

- I guess he's not going to do the trick for us, Stewart.

- What trick, Dennis?

- My dad says good old Mr. Sanderson

can drink just like a fish.

- Anything else, Mr. Sanderson?

- No.

No, I'll come back when you've got less help.

- Dennis, some day I'm going to--

[shouting]

- What's that?

- Sounds like good old Mr. Sanderson

fell over Stewart's wagon.

Yep.

That's what he did, all right.

- Yeah.

- Mr. Quigley was so furious, he could hardly talk.

He said that Dennis ought to be locked in a closet somewhere

where only he and the termites could get at each other.

And then he said he felt sorry for the termites.

- Dennis is just going to have to be punished.

- You won't spank him too hard?

- Alice, either you punish a boy, or you don't.

I'm not enjoying this anymore than you are.

Dennis?

DENNIS (OFFSCREEN): OK, Dad!

You call me, Dad?

- Yes, son.

Come on with me.

- Where are we going?

- Out in the back?

- Honey, you won't-- I mean, not too--

- I won't. - Dennis.

After your father takes you out back,

I'll have a nice dinner ready for you

to make you feel better.

- OK.

But I won't be able to eat much on account of hit

hurts when I swallow.

- Well, just the same.

It hurts when you swallow?

- Dennis, let me see your throat.

- Will that be all, Mr. Mitchell?

- I think so.

Oh, I'll need some throat lozenges.

- Oh.

Is somebody sick at your place?

- Yes.

Nothing serious.

We have to keep him in the house for a few days.

- Oh, who's this, Mitchell?

- Dennis.

Oh, I'm sorry about the trouble he caused you two.

As soon as he's well, he'll be punished.

- Oh, that's perfectly all right.

I'm just glad it was nothing serious.

- Well, I should say so.

How long do you say it'll be before you

let him lo-- uh, before he's allowed out of the house?

- Well, the doctor says a week, but I

have a hunch he'll be his old self in three or four days.

- Oh, no sense rushing things.

- Oh, no, I should say not.

You know, sometimes a good three or four

weeks' rest is what a growing boy needs.

- The worst thing about being sick to him

is that he can't build a bench.

It seems he promised Mr. Dorfman to build a resting bench

to replace the one they're taking down in the park.

Kids. - Yes.

- Yes. Good bye.

- See you later, Mitchell.

- He was in here about that.

Thought one of my shelves would be just right for his bench.

- Oh, dear.

He was pestering me about that, too.

You know, when I was put on this committee

to put in the parking lot, I never

thought that there'd be this much trouble about a postman's

bench.

- Well, a couple of days, and Dennis

will forget all about it.

Will that, uh, be all, Mr. Wilson?

Mr. Wilson?

- Hm?

Oh, oh, excuse me, Mr. Quigley.

Yes. Yes, that'll be all.

- Well, looks like I'm finally going to get a few days' rest.

- Oh?

Going away on a vacation?

- No.

- But you said--

- Oh.

Yes, I, I see what you mean.

- Yes, for a few days it's going to be

a lovely, quiet little neighborhood.

Just like it was a few years ago,

before Dennis learned to walk.

- Oh, that was lovely, wasn't it?

- That's too high, Tommy.

Think where the window goes.

- Just because we've got to use your ink pads

doesn't mean you get to be boss of the whole world, Margaret.

- All right.

Ask Dennis.

- OK, I will.

Do we have to put a window in there, Dennis?

- Heck no, Tommy.

We already got one window.

- That's what I said.

- It is not!

- It is, too!

- It is not!

- It is, too!

- What do you want me to do, Dennis?

- You'd better look around, see if you

can find some big hunks of wood for the roof, Stewart.

- OK.

- Somebody better go ask Mr. Quigley

if he's got some of that plastic stuff we

can use for the window.

- I haven't got any money.

And Mr. Quigley never gives away stuff to kids.

- I'll get it.

- You got any money?

- You don't need money.

All you say is charge it.

- Wonderful job.

Beautiful day.

- Oh, here's a fine item, Mrs. Turner.

Some of my customers have used that for years.

- Excuse me for being rude, Mr. Quigley,

but where do you keep that plastic stuff that you

can see through?

- Oh, you'll find some rolls of it

right over there next to the wall, Margaret.

- Thank you.

- Well mannered child.

Now, here's a new one.

It's only been on the market about six months,

but a good many of my customers seem--

- Excuse me for being rude again, Mr. Quigley.

Charge it, please.

- Oh, wait a minute, Marget.

You can't do that.

- Do what?

- Why, tear a piece off the roll like that.

- Sure you can, Mr. Quigley.

They have a sort of a knife thing on the edge of the box.

- You'll find either one very satisfactory,

Mrs. Ru-- uh, Mrs. Turner.

- A board!

- No!

[phone ringing]

- Hello?

- Oh, hello, Mr. Wilson.

No, Dennis is in the house.

Well, of course I'm sure.

Footprints in what?

- Hey Denis, it don't fit!

- Well, come here a minute, all you guys!

- You guys better get some more long pieces of wood.

- I know where I can get some, but somebody's

got to come with me to help carry it.

- Not me.

- Me, neither.

- You'd better find a wagon or a wheelbarrow, or something

to carry the wood in, Margaret.

- All right, Dennis.

- Tommy, you'd better find something

to put on the roof, like tar paper, or something.

- How about cardboard?

- Yeah!

- Mr. Quigley's got a whole bunch of cardboard boxes

in his back room of the store.

- OK.

- Stewart, you'd better go finish sawing that piece of wood.

OK?

- OK, Dennis.

- I, uh, see you've taken advantage of our sale

on peaches, Mrs. Hannah.

They'll make a mighty fine lunch one of these rainy days.

I always advise people to--

- Can I butt in now, Mr. Quigley, or do you

want me to wait and butt in later?

- Well, you've already butted in, Tommy.

Now, what is it you want?

- I was wondering if I could have some of those empty cardboard

boxes you got out in the back room?

- All right.

Take some.

- I think I'm gonna need a whole bunch.

- Well, go ahead.

Take all you can carry.

I've got more back there than I can use now.

- OK.

- Tommy!

- Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

- Oh. Morning.

- Good morning, Quigley.

Well, first of all, I'll need a large bottle of Aspirin.

- Oh, yes.

Did you, uh, get your cement work done?

- Twice.

And I had to do it all over again.

Every kid within a 10 mile radius has been through my yard

by way of my cement.

- Then they came in here and fell in my apples.

You know, things are worse now than they

were when Dennis was around.

- Dennis!

What on Earth are you doing?

- Toasting marshmallows for the kids out front.

- That isn't the way you toast marshmallows.

- But mom, I promised.

- Well, never mind that.

And Dennis, I just talked to Dr. Welsh on the telephone.

- Did he say I could go outside?

Did he say I'm all well?

- Yes, he said you could go outside.

- Boy, that's swell.

- Be sure to put on your jacket.

- OK, mom!

Hey Mr. Wilson!

Mr. Wilson!

- Why, Dennis.

What are you doing outside the house?

- I'm all well now.

You wanna see the swell bench we made for Mr. Dorfman?

- Well.

Dennis, I thought you'd given up on this idea.

- Heck no, Mr. Wilson.

- Well, how did you-- I mean, with you in the house,

how did you build it down there?

- Tommy, and Margaret, and Stewart built it, Mr. Wilson.

I was just the boss.

- Oh.

Hey.

This piece of wood looks like it's from my cement form.

And that board looks like the missing

piece from my green house.

- Go ahead.

Sit on it, Mr. Wilson.

- Yeah, Mr. Wilson.

We want somebody fat to sit on it before Mr. Dorfman comes.

- Please, Mr. Wilson?

- Well, all right.

I am kind of tired.

And it seems to be made with my lumber anyway.

Ah.

This is the last straw.

I want you children to take everything back

where you got it.

And I'm going to take my boards back where they belong.

- Why, Mr. Wilson, I'm ashamed of you.

First you get the city to destroy Mr. Dorfman's bench

in the park, and then you take the children's lumber

when they're trying to build him a new one.

- Mrs. Toland, you're mistaken.

I-- well, I didn't do anything.

I mean, well, they asked me to sit down in it, and it-- It--

- And then why, may I ask, are you taking the lumber?

- Well, because it's my lumber, that's wh--

- Why, Mr. Wilson, if this is the sort of neighbor

you're going to turn out to be, I'm

afraid I'm going to have to reconsider my decision not

to insist on correcting my property line.

- But I'd have to tear down my fence, destroy my flower bed.

- Yes, Mr. Wilson.

I'm afraid you'd have to do just that.

- Oh.

Oh, now wait a minute, Mrs. Toland.

Just-- Mrs. Toland, please.

Wait just a minute. Mrs. Toland!

- So, being the generous man that he is,

Mr. Wilson, in return for a deed to the two feet of property

which legally belonged to me, has graciously

consented to donate to the city this corner of his yard, which

will hereafter be used by the postman on this route.

- And here he comes.

Mr. Dorfman!

- Well I'll be.

The old postman's rest. Dennis.

I'll bet you're behind all this.

Excuse me.

- Three cheers for Mr. Dorfman!

TOGETHER: Hip hip hooray!

Hip hip hooray!

- And three cheers for good old Mr. Wilson.

TOGETHER: Hip hip hooray!

- Hip hip hooray.

TOGETHER: Hip hip hooray!

Hip hip hooray!

[theme music]