Original subtitles

Today on Tool Time,

we're gonna talk about a real American hero -

the supersize sausage...

submarine,

also known as the SS Cholesterol.

I thought we were talking about squeaky floors.

We are, we are.

And the obvious connection would be?

Stick with me.

Let's say your wife has you

on one of those low-cal mulch and grass diets,

but you got one of these bad boys

hidden out in that camp cooler in the garage.

So you wait till she drifts off to sleep, snoring like a band saw.

You creep out to the garage to get it,

but as soon as your feet hit the floor, what happens?

She wakes up.

"Hey, leave that submarine sandwich alone, you big tub of lard!

"Get back into bed!

You're gonna be eating nothing but fiber for three months!"

And you doubted the connection.

I'm hating myself now.

The point is, today, how do you get rid of that tattletale squeak?

First you have to determine if you have a squeak...

a creak...

or a groan...

because each one of those will require a different repair.

Right, Al.

Larry, you wanna bring the camera in here.

Normally, a squeak is caused by wood rubbing against a loose nail.

Now, if you have your squeak between the joists,

what you wanna do is add a bridge.

Right.

Now... older homes, like older people, tend to groan.

That's because there's a sag and weakening

between the beam and the joist.

"Oh, my aching beam.

I got such a pain in the joist, you shouldn't know!"

Our older viewers will wanna write Tim

at "Tool Time, P.O. Box 32733..."

Now, if you have a creak -

which happens when two boards rub against each other -

we have an old carpenter's remedy.

Take an old squeezable ketchup bottle, fill it with talcum powder.

You wanna direct the talc between the boards,

give it a good healthy squeeze.

AmericasCardroom.com brings poker back Million Dollar Sunday Tournament every Sunday

You know, I don't think many people know,

but on weekends Al does mime at the mall.

Look at these apples, Al.

What do you think? Should we put the kids in the middle?

- Sorry, Dad. - Ah, it's just a toe. You're doing great.

No, I'm not. I think I should just quit. I'm no good at this.

I'm no good at a lot of things. Doesn't stop me.

I don't wanna hear anything more about you quitting.

Good news - I think he's gonna quit.

He can't quit. He's only been doing it three weeks.

Besides, I really think he's getting better.

Better? He sounds like Al's mom at a luau.

Tim, he begged us for those saxophone lessons.

I'm trying to teach - Excuse me.

I'm trying to teach him to stick with something, follow it through.

You don't want him to be a quitter, do you?

Quitting would be a bad thing.

But being a quitter's parents - we could live with that.

It's always bad in the beginning.

You think Mozart's parents enjoyed listening to him practice?

Great example. They named their kid Wolfman.

Wolfgang.

So, a group of wolves. What's the difference?

- I really stink at this. - No, you don't. You just got started.

It'll take you a couple of months

to figure out whether you stink or not.

Whoa. You're all wet.

Good work, Sherlock.

What happened?

Paul and Vinnie McGurn stuck me upside down in a snowbank.

I hate those guys.

I thought we told you to stay away from the McGurns.

They're big, ugly and stupid. That's a lethal combination.

I had no choice.

Vinnie challenged me to a sled race.

So you beat the guy and he dumped you in a snowbank?

That's typical of those guys.

No, they beat me, and this was part of their victory celebration.

I hate those guys.

I swear, this time I'm gonna get 'em back.

I hate those guys!

We know, Brad.

I'm just gonna walk up to Vinnie and start swinging.

No, Randy, don't be stupid. Don't try to fight Vinnie.

For once, Brad's right. Listen to him.

Get someone else to beat up Vinnie.

There's this one boy in my class, his name's Troy.

For a quarter, he'll punch himself in the face.

I've always told you guys, fists don't accomplish anything.

You can get Vinnie McGurn back at his own game.

What are you talking about?

Challenge him to another race.

Dad, there's no way I can beat Vinnie.

He has that new sled - the bullet-nosed downhill racer.

But you got The Tool Man.

I think we can turn this old jalopy into a speed demon.

It's light, it's got a classic design.

Maybe put a spoiler on the front of that for airflow.

I'll take the burrs off these runners, sand this thing down,

bevel the edge, put a shine on there.

This'll be smoother than butter on a baby's butt.

Arr-arr-arr-arr-arr.

I hate those guys.

Let it go, will ya? Just let it go.

Mark, go get your shoes on. I'm taking you for a haircut.

Mom, I don't need a haircut.

Oh, please. I could turn you upside down and mop the floor with you.

Besides, the barber is right next to Brad's saxophone teacher.

I can get you a trim while he's having his lesson.

You just wanna get out of hearing Brad play.

I never said that, and if it gets around, I never said that.

Brad, where's your saxophone?

You have a lesson in 20 minutes.

Mom, why do I have to keep taking these stupid lessons?

Brad, sit down.

Is this gonna be another one of those

"When I was a little girl" stories?

No. Will you just listen?

When I was a little person about your age...

I had to take flute lessons for five years,

and it wasn't always fun,

but I was really glad that I stuck to it.

Why? It's not like you ever play the flute now.

Well, that's true,

but I take great joy

in knowing that I could if I wanted to.

Besides, if you get really good at it,

we could have mother/son jam sessions.

There's a dream come true.

Mom, can't find my shoes!

I swear, if his head wasn't attached, he'd...

Oh, no. I'm channeling my mother again.

I'm coming!

- Hey, Randy, did you test out the sled? - Yeah.

Was Dad's spoiler cool?

Yeah. I was going so fast, I think I missed my next birthday.

Dang, that's fast.

- Ahh. - What happened to your wrist?

When I hit Dead Man's Curve,

my sled went one way and my wrist went another -

right into a tree.

- Ahh. - Well, is the sled OK?

Yes. Thanks for caring.

Ahh.

Here comes Mom.

Don't tell her about my wrist.

She'll overreact.

- OK, come on, Brad. Randy, hi. - Hi.

Listen, your dad's just pulling up now. We'll be back before dinner.

- Hi. - Bye!

Boy, we lead fast-paced lives.

- Hey, Randy. - Hey, Dad.

What's the matter?

I had a little run-in with a tree.

Who started it?

- The tree. - Hey.

- Did your mom see this? - No.

Ahh.

- Can you bend it? - Sort of.

All right, can you do this?

Yeah. Can you do this?

All right, smart guy, sit up there, let me take a look at it.

Careful, careful.

Ooh.

- Ow! - Ooh. That hurts, huh?

No, I just have a condition that makes me say "ow" every ten minutes.

I'm gonna run you down to the emergency room get an x-ray for you,

write a note to Mom.

Dad, I don't need to go to the emergency room.

That's what I usually tell Al.

Well, how does he get you to go?

I don't know. I'm usually passed out by then.

Don't worry. They'll take real good care of you here.

Is this the emergency room you come to all the time?

I don't come here all the time.

- Hey, Tool Man. - Hey, buddy.

- Hi, Mr. Taylor. - Hey, Tim.

- Hey, Buzz. How are those little girls...? - Good. Real good.

Hey, Laurie.

You're better known here than you are at Sears.

Mr. Taylor. And you walked in under your own power.

Always a good sign.

- Well, actually... - You know, I keep your file handy.

- Actually... - That's all you?

That's just this year.

It's not me today, Marge. It's my little son Randy.

Well, how cute - like father, like son.

What's doing, Randy?

He went off of his sled and hit his wrist.

We'll take care of that. You know the drill.

OK. Come on over here and sit down.

Dr. Smith, report to the emergency room.

Dr. Smith, emergency room.

- You doing all right? - Yeah.

OK, let's fill this out quick.

Birthday is the 18th. 8th.

Eighth.

- 97 pounds on you. - No, 80.

80. All right.

Big brown eyes.

Big blue eyes.

OK.

Here you go, Tim.

Coffee just the way you like it - cream and five sugars.

Thank you, Buzz.

Couple more sugars, they gonna be calling you Buzz.

All right.

What's gonna happen now?

They're gonna run you back to X-ray,

take a photograph of your wrist.

What if it's broken?

Don't worry about it. They're great here.

They'll set it in a cast, and you'll be good as new in two months.

- Two months? - It goes just like that.

I remember when I broke my arm. I was younger than you.

Well, how'd you break it?

Well, the first time...

I was six or so, in the garage looking at my little red wagon.

Arr-arr-arr-arr.

"That thing needs more power." Arr-arr-arr-arr.

I'm not sure Mom's gonna be too happy

when she finds out we souped up the sled.

- Don't worry about it. - Do we have to tell her?

Yes, yes. You can't lie to your mom.

I get two lies a year, and I'm not wasting one on you.

Mr. Taylor, this way to x-ray.

Look who I'm telling!

You know, Marge, it's kind of gratifying

to be here in the hospital and not be a patient.

See ya, Tool Man.

Hey, buddy.

Well, maybe you can have that feeling another day.

- Medic! - It's all right.

- It's all right. - Medic!

Whew. I'm home.

What happened at the hospital? How's Randy's arm?

It's fine. Doctor says it's sprained.

He'll be up and at 'em, two days.

Oh, thank goodness. Where is he?

He's over at Jeremy's, showing him my x-ray.

- Your x-ray? - I banged my head down there.

Took an x-ray. Showed nothing.

Big surprise.

- "Big surprise." - Mm-hmm.

- What are we eating? - Pizza.

- Will you set the table? - Uh-huh.

So what happened to Randy? The sled got away from him?

You know how they are with those sleds.

It gets all icy, wind catches the spoiler...

Wait a minute.

Since when do sleds have spoilers?

It's not uncommon.

I don't believe you. You powered up the sled?

I tweaked it a little bit.

It's not like I put a motor on it. Although...

Tim...

I just did it because the McGurns' father

bought them this downhill bullet-nosed racer.

- So what? - So... Randy challenged 'em to a race.

That was a stupid thing to do.

Not quite as stupid as what he originally planned.

Which was?

He was gonna hire some kid that hits himself in the face

to fight Vinnie McGurn with him.

Troy?

I suggested a more sensible alternative.

Oh, a sensible one,

like sending our son barreling down a hill on a death machine

to win some stupid race?

You are so wrong.

This is a practice run. The race isn't till Saturday.

No, it's not.

Yes, it is. He was challenged by Vinnie.

You said that Randy challenged Vinnie.

Yeah, well, then Vinnie challenged him back.

You just don't understand

the intricacies of the male mind.

Explain it to me. I've got a minute.

OK. Guy A challenges guy B.

If guy B accepts the challenge,

guy A is automatically challenged by guy B

not to back down from the challenge that A gave to guy B.

OK, let me explain to you how a woman's mind works.

Guy A and guy B are both idiots, and Randy is not racing.

Come on.

Sugarplum. Honeybuns.

There's nothing wrong with two kids

having a nice race down Dead Man's Curve.

Down what?

Fred Man's Curve.

It's gonna take your mom about two minutes to find that.

Now, if you bury it, you might have a shot at it.

Dad, I'm no good at playing the saxophone.

You were great this morning playing "Baa Baa Black Sheep."

Dad, that was "Mary Had A Little Lamb."

Well, lamb, sheep - it's all about wool.

Just try a little harder, will ya?

Wilson, what are you doing up there?

Well, Tim, I am trying to get Mrs. Foley's cat Fluffy

out of that tree. Mm-mm-mm-mm.

- So how was your day? - Little frustrating.

I'm trying to explain to Jill the meaning of the word "challenge."

I would think, living with you,

that she'd be an expert on that.

No, I mean when one man challenges another man.

She doesn't realize you can't back down from that.

Aha. So Al is being obstreperous at work again?

No, he took some penicillin and cleared that up.

You know Vinnie McGurn next door?

Yes indeed. He's the reason that Fluffy's up in the tree.

Well, he and Randy got themselves

- into this sled race challenge... - Uh-huh.

and Jill doesn't want him to do it.

She's afraid he might hurt himself.

Well, Tim, Jill's reaction is quite... quite natural.

It's common for the female of the species to protect her young.

Well, I'm trying to protect my young

- from the Vinnie McGurns of the world. - Aha-ha.

So you are encouraging Randy

to act like the saiga antelope.

Yeah. Yeah, exac... What?

The saiga antelope. They roam the Russian plains.

Any invader who challenges the male's domain

is met with a fight.

Arr. Russia.

Unfortunately, the males of the species

are so obsessed with running back and forth and butting heads

that they barely ever eat,

so that when wintertime comes they have no body fat.

They starve to death.

See, Tim, you can't allow a challenge

to make you lose sight of what is really important.

- Hi. How's your hand? - Fine, Mom.

What are you doing?

Working on my sled.

I wanna talk to you about that.

I don't think you should do this race on Saturday.

Mom, I have to.

My wrist is gonna be fine. Even the doctor said so.

I just think the combination of that hill, that sled and your father

is too dangerous.

But Mom, I'm fixing my sled,

and Dad's gonna show me what I did wrong.

I don't see why you have to race Vinnie McGurn at all.

Because if I don't, he's gonna think I'm afraid of him, and I'm not.

You should be afraid of him. He's a scary guy.

Ha. No kidding.

At the father/son picnic,

he's the only kid that was mistaken for his father.

Now, you see, that's funny.

Humor has always been your best weapon.

But Vinnie's too stupid to understand my jokes.

In your life, you're gonna run up against a million Vinnie McGurns.

- Are you planning on racing all of them? - I don't know.

All I know is that I have to race this one.

I have to fight back.

- But it's not a fair fight. - I'm never gonna have a fair fight.

- I'm the shortest kid in my class! - Honey...

- And don't tell me my height doesn't matter. - It doesn't matter.

It's what's inside that counts.

Don't sell yourself short. Sorry.

Look, in case you haven't noticed,

even my little brother is the same size as me.

Randy...

everybody grows at their own rate.

Mark just had a growth spurt.

I mean, you could have one at any time.

Yeah, but probably not by this weekend, huh?

No, probably not.

I'm gonna say something to you

that I thought that I would never say to any of my kids.

What?

Kick some butt.

All right!

Hey, Tim?

- Jill, we gotta talk. - Yeah.

Um... Randy's situation

is a lot like the psychic antelope

that pig out all summer long

and finally act like buttheads to the Russians.

I was with you right up to, "Jill, we have to talk."

What I'm saying...

What?

I don't think Randy has to prove anything to Vinnie McGurn.

I don't think there's any reason for him to race the kid over this.

Oh, I think he does have to race him.

Unfortunately, Randy feels that he has to prove something to himself,

and we have to let him do this.

Now, I was wondering...

is there some way that you can make the spoiler bigger

and bevel the edges more?

- Are y... are you my wife? - Yeah.

I read somewhere that if you heat the runners up, it makes it go faster.

- Is that true? - That's illegal, Jill.

What is this, the Olympics?

Have you ever noticed that we agree on everything

but never at the same time?

Well, I have to admit that this time you were right.

Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo.

If I'm right, you would be...

Starts with "W."

Your wonderful wise wife.

No, no, no, no, no. No, no.

- Ah. If someone isn't right... - Mm-hmm.

they're generally referred to as "wr..."

Really open-minded and big enough

to listen to other people's opinions.

OK. No.

I'm looking for something that rhymes with "song."

Right!

So long.

That was cool how you beat Vinnie in that race.

Yeah, did you see the way I took that curve? It was perfect.

- And I told you to race him. - Yeah, right, Mom.

Here you go.

Hey, did you see how mad Vinnie's father got

when Dad was doing that victory dance?

I can't believe he challenged him to the race.

I can't believe your father accepted the challenge.

Oh, it's just a sprain.

submarine sandwich,

also known as the SS Cholesterol.

Dive! Dive! Dive!

Any invader who tries to challenge the male's domain is met with a fight.

Can't remember that song all of a sudden.

It's... Lucille.

I can't believe he challenged Dad to the race.

I can't believe your father accepted the challenge.

Oh, it's just a sprain.

I'll get that guy in a rematch, I'll tell you that.

All right, once more. One more time.

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