Original subtitles

"'A-okay,' said Dr. Gratonis, 'All systems go.'

And as they slowly orbited the rings of Saturn,

Captain Starglider launched his heat-seeking missile

into Princess Nemo's love target

over, over and over again."

- I can't listen to that! - Uh-huh.

"'Fill me up, Earth Man,' she cried.

But her deafening shrieks of pleasure went unnoticed.

Because in space, no one can hear you scream."

Pretty great, huh?

Vernon, I'm not seeing a story here.

No, no story. No drama.

Just two-dimensional characters fucking each other all over the solar system.

- Exactly. - You've got yourself a deal.

- All right. Great. - Wait a minute!

Wait a minute, Gibby, I think we should discuss this.

There's nothing to discuss, Marty.

Look under the desk. I'm stiffer than a drain pipe.

I'm sure you are, and with all due respect to you and Vernon,

I-- I think we should put this book...

...in the hold pile, for now.

Very interesting, Marty.

And I suppose if I gave a flying monkeys about your opinion,

I'd give it some consideration.

But since I don't, just keep your mouth shut,

and pressed firmly to my buttocks where it belongs.

Now I want a synopsis on my desk tomorrow, got it?

Right then.

Welcome aboard, Verny.

I'll kill him!

So, do you have a title yet?

Well...

I'm thinking something epic,

like The Empire Sucks Dick.

Why do I do this? Why do I do it?

Oh.

- What's this for? - The boys upstairs have been huddled around all day.

Something major's happening.

I think we're going prime time.

Hey, congratulations.

Hey, Eddie. Great show.

- Thank you. - Could we powwow for a minute?

Uh, sure.

Oh, excuse me, I'll just--

Oh, no, no, no. Stay.

Uh, Bob, you remember Martin Tupper?

Uh, from my agency.

Sure. We met at the NATP Convention.

Or was it MIPCOM?

Uh, the--

the second one, the MIPCOM.

Right. Right.

Uh, well, now, Ed, we've been--

Excuse me.

Hello. Oh, hi, honey.

It's my wife. It'll just be a second.

Uh, Jeanette, can I call you back?

Okay, okay. Yeah.

Anyway, Martin, we have been giving a lot of thought

to the future of the show.

That's great, that's great.

And shouldn't we, uh, wait for Eddie?

Uh, look, Jeanette, I-- I can't talk right now.

Yeah. Yeah. I'm kind of in a meeting.

Of course I care about your feelings.

Well, I can just run this by you.

See, we would like to take the show a little deeper.

Give it a new spin. A new format, if you will.

A new format? No kidding.

Eddie, we're talking new formats here.

Jeanette, they're talking new formats here.

Okay. Okay, maybe "format" wasn't the right word.

Actually, we've decided to go with another host.

Oh, two hosts, you mean, like, Eddie and a co-host.

No, just the co-host.

The co-host is the only host.

Where's Eddie?

Eddie's out.

Jeanette? Jeanette? I'm hanging up the phone.

No. Yes. I'm hang-- Jeanette?

Bye.

So, what's the good word?

Well, Eddie, we have been giving the future of the show

a lot of thought.

And we'd like to take it a little deeper.

Stop jerking them around, will you?

Eddie, you're out.

You're out, okay?

They're going with another host.

Well, that just about sums it up.

Yeah, but-- but you can't do that.

It-- it's my show.

The Eddie Charles Show.

I mean, without Eddie Charles, the title makes no sense.

Got a good point. Yeah, we must address that.

I gave you people five fucking years of my life.

My blood is out there on that stage!

Oh, don't think that we don't appreciate it.

That is why we are going to give you this.

Uh, well, Martin, I've got to run.

Oh, Eddie, what can I say?

We wish you luck in whatever it is you're going to do.

You haven't heard the last of us!

Nobody treats Eddie Charles like this, this man is a major star.

- Ciao. - You're gonna regret this.

Our foot soldiers are gonna be marching up and down Broadway!

- And I-- - Shut up, Martin.

It's no good to make friends.

Because when a friend gets it, it's--

Well, it's rough on you.

Those assholes, how can they say my show's not deep?

That piece on the hookers in the recession, that was deep.

Of course it was.

Oh, and what about-- What the hell?

Hey! Hey. What the hell happened here?

- Anything missing, huh? - No.

It's just all wrinkled.

Oh, great, first I lose my show,

now my clothes are all messed up.

I'm going to kill that maid.

Eddie, it's a note from Jeanette.

"Dear Eddie, I can't dive with you anymore."

What?

I think it says "live."

"I can't live with you anymore.

I want a di--

A divorce."

Get down!

I can't believe this!

Eddie, I knew you guys were having problems.

Of all night, she has to pick the night I lose my show.

Can you read this? What's this word?

"S-- s--"

"You are the most shallow,

self-centered, immature, and shallow person

I've ever met."

All right, you said shallow twice.

I didn't say anything. I'm just reading.

-"It is totally odorous--" - Obvious.

"Obvious that you care more

about some idiotic television show

than me or this marriage."

Bullshit! First of all, my show is not idiotic.

Second of all, I've never put it in front of our marriage.

Well, you did cancel the honeymoon.

I forgot, it was Sweeps week. What was I supposed to do? Show reruns?

And you missed her mother's funeral to go to the Daytime Emmy Awards, right?

I was nominated! Jesus, whose side are you on here?

I'm just saying.

Look, Eddie, maybe it's not too late.

You know, I mean, maybe you can still talk to her.

Oh, man. It's over.

You know, at first, when we used to fight,

we would make up, and we'd have this really great sex.

Then after a while, the sex wasn't so great.

And then, I don't know, we-- we just stopped making up.

I'm really sorry, you know?

I mean, if there's anything I can do to help,

you know, I'm-- I'm here for you.

Oh, man, what am I gonna do tomorrow?

- Eddie. - I mean, I'm gonna wake up.

I got no wife, I got no job. What am I gonna do?

You do have quite a bit of ironing.

No, Vernon, no. That title is unacceptable.

I am not publishing a book called A Game From Ur-anus.

You're right, too intellectual. I'll think of something else.

- Thank you. - See you, Marty.

Hey, sweetheart, going down?

- Toby, what time is my lunch with Eddie? - How should I know?

Because I specifically asked you to make reservations.

- Did you? - No.

Did you at least order us the box seats for tonight's game?

Hey, who am I, Julie from The Love Boat?

I got work to do here.

Fine. Fine. Why don't I just do it myself?

Look, I got Yahtzee!

Go away.

What do you mean, "Go away"? I got a basketball here.

Marty, please, just-- just go away.

Come on, Eddie, you can't just mope around by yourself all day.

Eddie, it's not good for you, you know?

You gotta go out, and do stuff, you know, and hang out with your friends.

Take your mind off things.

Kelly, I'm sorry about this.

It's okay, I gotta help take out a gallbladder at 3:00.

Life goes on, buddy, you know?

I mean, you gotta get back on that horse--

I'll call you. Hi.

Hello.

Quite an improvement.

Sorry. I didn't know you had company.

No, that's okay, come on in.

Well, I'm glad to see you're feeling better.

I'm not, man.

Jeanette was right. I am shallow.

No, I mean it, when other people get depressed,

they write poetry or cut off their ears.

What do I do? I have sex. Empty, meaningless sex.

Well, there are worse ways of dealing with depression.

Ah, it's pathetic. Take a look at me.

- Come on. - No, take a long, hard look at me.

I mean, beneath the handsome exterior

and expensive clothes, what do you see?

No, tell me, what do you really see?

Well, I see...

...a lot, you know, there's a lot of stuff there.

There's nothing there, admit it.

That's not true, come on, Eddie.

Let's go shoot some hoops, will you?

I mean, you've been in this apartment too long.

Nah, man, I don't think so.

We're hooked up together, Eddie.

You getting a jam, I getting a jam.

Eddie, don't be so hard on yourself, you know?

I mean, you haven't always been this shallow.

Well, just for like, the last 10 or 12 years.

Martin, I'm 39 years old, I have no job,

I'm incapable of having a meaningful relationship.

I can't even open a fucking bottle.

It's not a twist-off.

I can't even read anymore. My life is over.

Save him! Please!

You know what? You're right.

You're right, your life is over.

And is that such a bad thing, huh?

You've got a clean slate now. You can do anything you want.

Like what?

Take tennis lessons.

You know, learn another language, or, uh--

I don't know, uh, start a magazine.

You always talked about that, right?

I mean, come on, how cool would that be?

Eddie Charles' Pizzazz.

On sale at newsstands everywhere.

I mean, your name alone would sell a million copies.

I mean, think about it, it could be real journalism,

you know, with some depth and substance.

I don't know.

Eddie, you could be your own boss.

You wouldn't have to deal with any asshole executives, you know?

Keep your mouth shut, and pressed firmly to my buttocks where it belongs.

A ridiculous, idiotic guess.

Fill me up, Earthman!

And I could help you.

Eddie, we-- we could do it together.

You know, I know the writers, and you've got your contacts.

Uh, Martin, I think you should just forget about it.

What, are you afraid?

"Well, I don't wanna start a magazine. It's too scary.

I just want to stay inside, and feel sorry for myself,

and try to open this bottle."

Shut the fuck up.

What?

Although it would be pretty cool.

It would be very cool, man.

Come on, me and you working together.

What the fuck? Let's do it!

You know, I-- So, let's face it.

Yes, and I saw a dixie too.

- Great picture, huh? -

- My colleague. - My comrade.

- My cohort. - My friend.

- Companion. - Confederate.

- Chums to the end. - Like meat and potatoes.

Or salt and tomatoes.

Well, boys, I still don't see

why the American Beef Board

would want to advertise in your magazine.

Well, Mr. Hermann, now, speaking as a big beef eater

and Eddie here is a big beef guy--

Stakes. Every day.

We feel that our unique mix of cutting-edge fiction

and hard-hitting journalism

and really in-depth celebrity profiles

will appeal to just about everybody.

Well, that's all well and good. But what's beef about it?

Well, for example, we've already booked

an interview with Sigourney Weaver.

Who we all know is very big

in the beef-eating community.

And we'll also be going after a very beefy story

by Pulitzer Prize winning author John Updike.

Is the story about beef?

Well, uh--

When you get right down to it, isn't everything?

The human meatball.

Boys.

I like it.

Ready to kick some ass?

Oh, yeah.

Shit.

I left the proposals at the office, God damn it.

Martin Tupper's office.

Hi Toby, it's me, look, on my desk--

Where the hell are you?

Vernon's book was supposed to go to typesetting yesterday.

Fine, fine, send it down for him, will ya?

Look, I need the proposals, it's the stack next to the stack

with the paper weight on it, send it over to Suzanne

at Time 1 on a super rush.

Morning, Toby.

- Mr. Fiske. - Where the hell is Marty?

Shit, oh, just-- Tell him I'm sick.

- He's sick. - Again?

Well, make something up.

He was tying his shoe, and he fell out the window.

Toby, I'd be dead.

But then fortunately, he landed on a cart of tomatoes,

which cushioned the blow.

But then he started to roll toward a busy intersection.

Will you stop?

But then he stopped.

So he'll be here tomorrow.

Very well.

We're all set.

- Like meat and potatoes. - Or salt and tomatoes.

Uh-huh, well, all right.

Yeah, uh, thank you.

- You ready for this? - Hmm.

That was Suzanne at Time Warner.

They're very interested.

Oh, my God.

This thing's actually going to happen.

Yahoo!

Yeah!

Sorry to interrupt the festivities,

but Gibby called 10 minutes ago.

Yeah, well, what did he say?

He said he'll be in your office in 10 minutes.

And you're just telling me now?

Well, if I told you after he got here, it'd be too late.

I'm late.

Go, go, go, go.

I'll call you later, all right? Go!

A-one, a-two, a-three, a-four.

Good night, Toby, my little pomme de terre.

- Marty. - Hello, Gibby.

Just skimming through your space book here.

- And? - Made the little hairs on my pouch stand on end.

Oh, well, then, I've done my job.

Yes, I must say that you lost me for a sketch here.

During the fuck scene in chapter seven

when the princess interrupts her moaning

to launch into a lengthy proposal

for some bold new magazine for the '90s.

Seems a bit anticlimactic, wouldn't you say?

Well, I, uh--

Never figured I'd get caught.

I think we can just cut that part out,

if you don't like it, in fact, I agree.

I-- I think it reads much better.

Hey, quit pulling my pony, Marty.

I think I'm some sort of a fuckwit.

I'm not sure what you mean.

Oh, I'll paint you a little picture then.

The minute you stepped foot into this office,

you become my property.

I own you, much as I own this desk

or, uh, all these black binder things.

Now, if one of these black binder things

decide to work on a magazine

rather than holding papers together like it's supposed to,

well, I would just throw it in the garbage like so.

You follow me, Marty?

All right, all right.

I admit I've been a little distracted lately, but--

But nothing.

Now, here's your choice.

My books

or, uh, your little rag sheet.

But not both.

Now, as my dear old mom used to say,

you can't suck your thumb and your dick at the same time.

Well, it isn't easy, but it's a beautiful idea.

How about this, Gibby?

We could work out some kind of a part-time thing.

Yeah, this would make a fine executive lavatory.

Okay, okay, forget part-time,

and I'll, uh-- I'll just come in early

four days a week, and take Fridays off.

I think I'll put the toilet right here.

Oh, yeah, yeah, I like this very much.

Okay. Fine.

That's the way you want it.

If you want me to choose between working in this toilet

and something of some value,

something that I actually care about,

then fine, I'm going with the magazine, Gibby.

Oh, Marty.

How would you feel about, uh, having a Peruvian fellow

over in the corner there with hot towels

and those little sprays?

Shove it up your ass, Gibby.

Hey, bud. Open up.

- Hey, partner. Hello. - Hey. Hey.

Whoa! What's this?

I just wanted to thank you for getting me through

the past couple of weeks, you know.

Hurry, boys. I may have to pose for a statue.

Hey, hey, what a sport.

- Two quarts of beer. - It's the only thing they had cold at the store.

Come on, man. I want to make a toast.

To, uh, 31 years of friendship.

You know, for a while there, I thought I lost everything,

but you made me realize what's really important.

Women will come and go, jobs will come and go,

but you and me, man, that's forever.

And to our magazine,

which is going to change our lives forever.

Well, actually, man, I don't think I'll be doing the magazine.

What do you mean?

Well, you're looking at the new host

of the Home Sweet Home Show.

I don't give a shit who I'm looking at.

I just quit my job today.

Why'd you do that?

Because I thought I could count on you.

Because of 31 years of friendship, you douchebag.

How-- how could you do this to me?

Martin, it's a network show.

Two hours a day.

Man, you would have done the same thing.

Perhaps you're not hearing me correctly.

I just quit my fucking job!

Well, you can still do the magazine.

No, I can't, without you, there is no magazine.

Who's going to read Martin Tupper's Pizzazz?

Certainly not me.

Look, man, I-- I'm sorry.

You know, if there's anything I can do for you, just say the word.

Get out of here before I fucking strangle you.

Oh, come on, man. Friends don't do that shit.

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Dude, you're overreacting.

Hey!

I'm sensing a little hostility here.

Get out of here.

I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you.

I get out of here, come on, man.

You know, I thought you'd be happy for me.

Jesus.

It'll be your little cubbyhole here.

Marty, my, my.

What the bloody stump are you doing here?

What do you mean?

You quit on Friday. Or have you forgotten?

Friday? Friday.

Friday.

Don't you remember our little chat?

You quit to work on a magazine with that Black friend of yours.

Quit? Gibby.

I certainly would have remembered if I'd quit.

I-- I think Carter mentioned something about quitting.

Ah, now, come on, Marty. You're whittling my twig, right?

Gibby, would I be stupid enough to give up a job like this

to work on some magazine?

Nah. Nah. I don't suppose you would.

Huh, well, hey, my mistake.

Back to the mail room for you.

- Hard luck, lad. - Aw.

And Marty, the next time you tell me

to shove it up my ass,

I'm gonna send you up there to get it.

Well, that's it for today.

- We've had a terrific show. - Oh, yeah.

Special thanks to our guests, General William Westmoreland,

for his delicious boysenberry cupcake recipe.

- Yum, yum. - Yum, yum is right. They're really delicious.

And to Steven Seagal

for his fascinating collection of toys

that you too can make at home.

- I'm Eddie Charles. - And I'm Kristy Springer.

Reminding you--

You're always welcome at Home Sweet Home.

Get over there. I'm gonna throw up.

Clear.

No! No! I told you before, Kevin.

I don't care what disease this fucking kid has.

I don't do autographs!

Hey, bud. I didn't think you were coming.

So, uh, what'd you think of the show?

The only reason I'm here is because you owe me money.

MCI Federal Express.

What? You're still mad at me?

The total is $308.61. Now write me a check.

Look, man, I'm sorry. I have no excuse.

I let you down.

Well, at least it was for a good reason.

Those are some of the most in-depth,

hard-hitting household hints I've ever heard.

You really think so?

All right, all right. I'm shallow, I admit it, okay?

You're deep, and I'm shallow, but--

but aren't those just different ends of the same pool?

What pool? What is that? That means nothing.

Coming through.

Look, man, I don't know why I did it.

Maybe it was a sack of money they threw at me.

Or, you know, I was afraid to fail.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just an asshole.

- No hard feelings? - No hard feelings.

- No, no, you know what? - I'm the asshole.

Because I'm going to forgive you, again.

I don't know why.

Why do I always do this?

Because I'm your best friend?

No, no, because I'm too lazy to go out, and get a better best friend,

you know, I've been meaning to do it for the last 31 years.

Just never gotten around to it.

Oh, very nice, you know, if I had any feelings,

that would really hurt.

Since you have no feelings, I think your show is lousy.

And that hat makes you look like a Pillsbury Doughboy.

- Oh, now that hurts. - And at the prom,

when you asked me how you looked in your powder blue tux, you remember that?

- Yeah. - I lied.