All language subtitles for Dream On (1990) S06E25.en

Jami Gertz looks a lot
like Little Orphan Annie,

don't you think?

Geez, that-- that's uncanny.

If you have any white out left
could you use it to a--

- I don't know,
finish the Epstein Galleries?
- Fine.

By the way, the co-op board
from your old apartment called

and they 're raising
your maintenance fee
from $600 to $800 a month.

Great.
Great, that's just great.

So, basically
I'm paying two grand a month
for an extra closet.

Right. What am I gonna do?

You got two options.
The first is risky.

You could try to sell it.
The other's a sure thing.

I call my cousin, Donuts.

He torches the place
to the ground,
you collect the insurance.

As usual, your family
is an infinite source of...

Larceny? Murder?

...wisdom.
I'll just keep that in mind.

I don't want to be
overly optimistic,

but if the gods are with us,
I believe it can fetch...

150.

I paid 230.
You sold it to me for 230.

I believe you're experiencing
a phenomenon we real estate
professionals call

a reaming.

Come on,
it's only been three months.

Mayonnaise doesn't go bad
in three months.

If properly refrigerated.
Mm-hmm.

Look, there must be something
I can do to get the price up.

Yes, there is, yes.

If you can somehow manage

to move the entire apartment

to a building that's not
going to be across the street

from the city's
newest and largest
methadone clinic.

The doorman told me
that was gonna be a Starbucks.

Yeah, caffiene, Methadone.
Same difference.

Anyway, the market
is bound to bounce back.
I tell you what I'm going to do.

I will Mark in my calendar here
to give you a call, uh,

on June 7th.

2009.

Let me consult my head.

Marty, in my new book,

Lillian finds
a magic mascara wand.

And as she thickens
her lower lashes,

she is suddenly transported back
to 18th century Paris,

where she is torn
between the French Revolution
on the outside

and her own sexual revolution
on the inside.

What do you think? Huh?

The building is very friendly,
efficient, and required.

Libby, why don't you just
write up a synopsis
and I'll take a look at it.

Fabulous. Oh, listen,
do you mind if I work here?

My son Josh and his
shiksa waffle waitress

moved into my office/sunroom

until they can find
their own place.

They're looking
for an apartment?

I have the perfect place.

Oh, Marty, if you can
get them out of my hair,

I will plant such a kiss
on your toches.

Anyway, about the apartment.

It's big, it's very close
to transportation,
it's got a great view of...

...the outside,
and it's only $1,900 a month.

Perfect. Oh, do you allow pets?

- Absolutely.
- Very good.

Because Josh
has started raising voles.

It's a rodent, about that big.

Apparently
it's the only animal

that can be used 100%
head to toe.

Meat, fur...

I forget what they do
with the nails.

I just remembered
something about the apartment.

It's rented.
This morning
the people just moved in.

That's why
it sort of slipped my mind.

Alright, listen.

If it doesn't
work out with them,
you'll give me a holler.

- You know I will.
- Alright, bye-bye, cutie.

- Yeah. Okay.
- Oh, you're cute.

Toby, I need you to make me
a new flyer right away.

Shh. Mom, I don't care
how small my apartment is.

I can't put the crib
in the closet.

No, I'm not criticizing you.

It's just there are laws now.

I-- I gotta go now.
I'll think of something.

Bye.

What a break!

Pretty cramped
with a baby coming, huh?

I never realized
being pregnant would mean
having another person around.

Do you know where I could find
a fold-out couch

that would open up
into a nursery?

Toby, that's not what you need.

What you need
is a bigger apartment.

With two bedrooms
and a large bath,

1200 square feet,
and high ceilings.

Your place? Forget it!

$1,800 is a lot of do-re-mi.

Uh, well, uh, what um,
what's your price range?

Zero dollars
to $1,600 per month.

See? $1,599.
That's right in between.

Geez, Martin,
you're already my boss.

What, do you want to be?
My landlord, too?

You're not gonna be happy till
you control my every move.

- Like Jack Jones.
- What?

Jonestown, the Kool-Aid guy.
What, you don't read the paper?

Oh, Toby, I wouldn't do
anything like that.

I'd just be a name
you could write a check to,

and believe me,
I can be as cold
and as impersonal as anybody.

True, all right. All right.

I'll think about it.

Don't let her get away.

You know, Toby,
not to pressure you or anything,

but I really need to know now,
because I have another tenant

who's dying to rent it.

Well, then let him have it,

and quit bugging me
to print things.

But I'd rather rent it to you,

you know,
because you're pregnant,
and you need shelter.

And Toby,
if I took that away from you...

I don't think
I could live with myself.

Well, your place is a lot closer
to the $0.99 store.

You can practically
see it from my window.

You know what?
You can't put
a price tag on that.

But if you could,
it'd probably be
$50 less than that.

Make it $99 less.
Think of it
as a housewarming gift.

Huh?

I now pronounce this
landlord and tenant.

- Uh.
- The--

I finally got
Little Richard to sleep.

I should never read him
Stephen Hawking at night.

He always wants
to redo the math.

What do you have there?

Well, I just got my first
rent check in the mail.

So...

Oh, champagne.

Oh, you know
what that does to me.

I'm counting on it.

You should get that.

- It might be Jeremy.
- He's a big boy.

It's time to learn how to talk
to an answering machine.

...we'll call
you back soon as we can.

Martin! Pick up!

I know you're there
trying to score with Judith.

I saw you seek out
a bottle of champagne
from Amandu's deportation party.

What? What? Toby, what is it?

Well, it is an emergency
that can wait till tomorrow?

No, no, no, don't.
Don't move out.
I'll be right there.

This is your emergency?
A stopped up sink?

It's not stopped up.
It's possessed.

It's heating and gurgling
like Grandpa Pedalbee
on his deathbed.

Do something!

- Why don't I just get the drain?
- I tried that.

It spit it right back
up in my face
like it was mocking me.

This hardly ever happened
when I lived here.

Did you put something
unusual in there?

Don't blame me. It's your sink.

Is this yours?

Of course not. It's cat hair.

You washed your cat in the sink?

What? Like he's going
to use the shower?

Morning, Toby.
I have a little present for you.

Oh, thanks.
I'll make us some tea.

It's for the sink, Toby.
Okay? It's to catch hair.

Of course the alternatives
actually let your cat
lick himself clean.

Oh, if only he could.
He's got a smooth tongue.

- It's a birth defect.
- Whatever.

I need you to proofread
the Cajun Cookbook.
There's a typesetting error.

Everywhere it says pecker,
it should say pepper.
And I need my to-do list.

- Printing it now.
- All right.

Thank you.

I think there's been a mistake.

This is obviously
Bob Vila's to-do list.

Look, I know it's a lot,
but you don't have to do it
all at once.

Just the first couple
are emergencies.

A broken hinge
is not an emergency.

And unless you happen to be
on a space shuttle.

You see the distinction.

Yes, but it's still
an emergency.

Here's a paint chip
for the kitchen.

Don't lose it.

The apartment is already gray.

Martin, I read the lease.

I'm entitled
to a new paint shop.

God knows what you've been doing
up against the walls.

Oh, come on, Toby,
be reasonable.

I can't do all this.

No problem.
I got a handyman you can hire.

He'll do it all for like,
eh, three grand.

Come in.

- Hey, Martin.
- Hi, Fred.

Did you ever rent
your apartment?

Yeah.

Yeah, Toby moved in
about two weeks ago.

Ah, too bad,
because IBM just extended

my brother's territory
into the city.

He needs a place
to crash a few days each month.

Your apartment
would have been perfect.

Huh. Never mind.

It's the chance
we've been waiting for.

Wait.

I think Toby mentioned
something about moving out.

Oh, really? Why?

You got water beetles
or something?

No. No.
No, the apartment's perfect.

No, it's just she had to
move in with her mother.

The poor woman broke her hip
falling off of a...

- It's a bargain.
- Oh.

Of all the lousy luck.

I'll send Toby roses,
maybe some euthanasia material.

That's a very nice gesture,

but I wouldn't mention
anything to her about it.

You know,
she's still a little fragile.

- Say no more.
- Anyway.

Why don't you have
your brother call me

and maybe
we can work something out?

I hope so.
He's a great guy,
and I owe him a favor.

Okay.

By the way, I know
you're asking $1,800 a month,

but he told me
he's willing to go to $2,800.

See, I figure
we charge him the full amount,

and you and I split the extra
grand the world keeps turning.

Well, we can figure out
the details later.

Dream On
will be right back.

Toby? Toby?

- This is your lucky day.
- I know.

Look what someone
left in the refrigerator
with no name on it.

It's either rice pudding
or mashed potatoes.

Oh, good for you. Good for you.
But your luck doesn't end there.

I know you're not happy
with the apartment, right?

So I'm giving you a full refund,

plus a little extra
to help you move, okay?

Why don't you get
your copy of the lease
and put it in the shredder?

I don't want to move out.

Toby.
Now, you don't owe me anything.

You have to do
what's right for you.

- You trying to kick me out?
- Of course not.

No, I'm just--
just setting you free.

No dice, Mr. Indian Runner.
I already unpacked everything.

I changed the address
on Gary Cooper's collar tags.

Plus, I'm putting cable
in the nursery

so I can launch Cops
while I breast feed.

Toby, you have to move out,
you know, because--

because there's
a methadone clinic moving in
right across the street now.

I know.
My sister can babysit
in between treatments.

By the way, I got a new list
of repairs for you.

I want it done
before my housewarming party.

I'd invite you, but it's just
family and friends.

No. No, no, no, no, no.
I've done enough.

Look, from now on,
this is how it's gonna go.

Every month, you send me
a check for $1,500.

Period. No list, no nothing.

- You got it?
- Got it.

Let her know who's boss.

Good, good, Toby finally
sent me a rent check.

She forgot to sign it.

Hold on.
You dropped something.

"Martin, here's the check,
do the repairs,
and I'll sign it. Got it?" Toby.

Well, that did it.
That's the last straw.

Is there any way
I can get out of this?

A tenant in New York
City is protected from eviction

by a veritable
barbed wire fence of law.

Fortunately, we at Hunter Owens
have the heavy canvas gloves

and cutters
to go in and get her out.

I don't want her
thrown out on the street.

I just want her politely removed
by the end of the month.

This is your first eviction,
isn't it?

Come on, huh? [laughing] Oh.

Don't be afraid of it, son.

Oh, I remember
my first eviction.

You always do.
I was 15, came home from camp.

My sister, Eudora,
just moved into my room.

Well, memories.
Anyway, I have a new tenant.

So, why don't we
just get started?

Consider it done.

In fact, I believe

I'll deliver this eviction
notice myself.

I keep a toe in the pool.

So, Fred tells me
the rent is $3,000 a month?

Uh, it's negotiable.
Take a for spin?

No, I'll ride shotgun.

And here we are.

We've got exposed brick
and some very beautiful
cram molding.

And, and...

just try to imagine it without
all this cat stuff here.

Well, I collect owls.

Not live owls,
just ceramic owls,

porcelain owls,
two owls made out of cork.

Well, they're gonna love
all this light? Hm?

Actually,
owls are nocturnal animals,

but since these aren't real,
it matters not a.

Good point. Good point.
Would you like to see
the bedroom?

- Mm.
- Okay.

Here we are.

Pretty roomy, huh?

- Hey!
- What are you doing here?

Me?

- Why aren't you at work?
- I called in sick.

Maybe if you were at work
instead of my apartment,
you might know that.

- Maybe I better skedaddle.
- No, no, no, no.

Toby, I hired an attorney
to terminate
our rental relationship,

and he should be here
in any minute.

You were right about
the water pressure, Twinkie.

It's anemic at best.

Little Mr. Doublecross,
I ought to belt you
right across the mouth.

- Bader.
- Hm?

- What the hell are you doing?
- You don't have to answer that.

It does seem
pretty self-evident.

I hired you
to serve the fiction papers.

I served them,
but Miss Pedalbee
had a number of valid points

concerning your failure
to maintain the unit
and so forth.

You violated my right
to quiet enjoyment

of the leasehold property.

Paragraph 16A,
little i, little i.

You're a hot little i yourself.
Come to Big Daddy.

[tense music plays

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I'm going to make
an intimate breakfast for two.

Martin, maybe I better go
look for another apartment.

No, no, no, no, no.
You're not leaving.

And I'm not leaving.
She is leaving.

Martin,
may I have a word with you?

Now, look.

That's a low-flow
showerhead in there.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.

Get your hands off me,
you fucking poor wrestler.

What the hell is your problem?

My problem?

Okay, I rent you
my apartment at a discount,

which you've now reduced
to zero dollars a month,

in an exchange you treat me
like a personal slave.

Oh, I see.
You have trouble
taking orders from me.

Boy, am I in a mess.

That's ridiculous.

Come off it.

If Wall Street Willy lived here,

you'd be doing
his repairs like that.

You know why?
Because he's a normal person

who would make normal requests
during normal business hours.

Oh, and I guess it's normal for
you to call me at 10:30
on a school night.

- What?
- Lots of times
I'm sitting in the bathtub

waiting for Calgon
to take me away,
and the phone rings,

and it's you barking orders
about books
or work or something.

That is completely different.

I happen to be your boss,
although I know that slips
your mind from time to time.

Well, now I'm your boss,
and I get to bark orders at you.

And when I say jump,
you say nothing.
You just jump.

How does it feel
to be a sock puppet?
Huh, Kukla?

Oh.

Oh, now I understand
what you're saying is that
that you resent me.

Yes, yes, I resent you.

And that you're tired
of being under my thumb.

- That's right.
- And you're doing
all of this just to get even.

No.

No, I'm not asking for anything
that I wasn't entitled to
under the lease.

Really, and you've made
all these same demands

of all your
previous landlords, huh?

That is none of your
BI business.

And you're not having
the time of your life

pushing me around
and driving me crazy.

- Answer the question!
- You know,
I don't need to sit here

and listen to you
psychoanalyze me

like I'm some kind of
laboratory rat.

You know what?

You're the worst landlord
I've ever had.

You're fired!
I'm moving out.

The winner!

Toby.

I think this is for the best.

Obviously,
we have a lot of issues,

and I should never have
talked you into moving in.

You're right.
It's all your fault.
You'll pay for the movers.

Fair enough.

Hi.

Sorry about the delay, Winston,
but it's all set.

Okay? The apartment is yours.

Oh, actually, Mr. Bader found me
a three-bedroom apartment
in my price range.

What?

The doorman's name is Marv.

- He'll give you the key.
- Thank you.

You know, Toby,
now that we've cleared the air,

you really
don't need to move out.

So, why don't I get the lease?

And you can just
get the scotch tape.

No, Martin, you're right.
We have too many issues.

What are you--
Issues are a dime a dozen.

You know, but apartments are--
they're a little
more expensive than that.

Oh, I have no fear, Tupper.

I'd never let
my Twinkie go unhoused.

Martin, isn't it wonderful?

Everyone's having
a happy ending.

She's at caution.

By the way,
for the reasonable fee

of 25% of the rent each month,

I'd be glad to help you
find a new tenant.

- Thank you.
- All right.

Thank you very much, but I...

I'd rather kill myself.

...I think I have some.

Well, come on in.
Make yourselves at home.

Oh, Josh, darling, come here.
Look at this.

It's just like
the fountain bloom.

Only without the humidity.

Oh, Marty, baby.

I owe you big time.

So, show me the bathroom
and pull down your pants.

You know what,

why don't you send me
a thank you note?

A career
in the finance, insurance,

or real estate industry
may be for you.