All language subtitles for The Brady Bunch_S02E24_Tell It Like It Is_eng

♪ Here's the story ♪

♪ Of a lovely lady ♪

♪ Who was bringing up ♪

♪ Three very lovely girls ♪

♪ All of them had
hair of gold ♪

♪ Like their mother ♪

♪ The youngest one
in curls ♪

♪ It's the story
of a man named Brady ♪

♪ Who was busy with
three boys of his own ♪

♪ They were four men
living all together ♪

♪ Yet they
were all alone ♪

♪ Till the one day when ♪

♪ The lady met this fellow ♪

♪ And they knew that it was
much more than a hunch ♪

♪ That this group ♪

♪ Must somehow form a family ♪

♪ That's the way we all
became the Brady Bunch ♪

♪ The Brady Bunch ♪

♪ The Brady Bunch ♪

♪ That's the way we became
the Brady Bunch. ♪

Carol?

Carol?

Carol?

Oh, Mike, you frightened me.

I frightened you?

Honey, I looked
all over the place--

except the doghouse--
for you.

Well, I'm sorry, honey,
I just couldn't sleep.

It's kind of hard to do

sitting under a bright light
writing something.

What's that?

What is what?

What you're writing there.

Oh, it's just... something.

Honey, it's a quarter
to 2:00 in the morning.

What could you possibly
be writing?

Well, I, uh... I just don't
feel like talking about it.

Not now.

Well, if that's
the way you feel.

Is that the way you feel?

Yeah, that's
the way I feel.

I-I don't mean to sound
mysterious, but...

Well, that's okay.

You gonna come to bed?

All right, darling.

But I warn you--

even in my sleep,
I won't talk.

Morning, Alice.

How come you're up
so early, Mr. Brady?

I woke up during the night

and never really
got back to sleep.

I thought I heard you prowling
around downstairs around 2:00.

You interrupted
a perfectly lovely dream.

I was about to be
crowned Miss America.

Well, sorry about that.

Oh, well,
easy come, easy go.

I was looking
for Mrs. Brady.

Mrs. Brady?

Yeah. Finally found her
curled up in a chair in my den

writing something.

Wouldn't tell me what it was.

That's funny.

Funny?

I found Mrs. Brady

curled up on a couch
in the family room

just night before last,
writing something, too.

Oh, yeah? What?

I don't know.

She didn't tell me.

What do you suppose
she's up to?

Maybe she's keeping a diary.

No, she wouldn't
keep that a secret--

not from me, anyway.

I don't think.

Alice, what do people
write when the rest
of the world's asleep

and they don't want to be
caught or discovered?

Something they don't
want anybody to know about.

Oh, Alice, you have
a keen, analytical mind.

Hi, girls.

Hi, Alice.
Hi, Dad.
Hi.

How are you doing?
Hi, Dad.
Where's Mom?

She's gonna skip breakfast.

To do her hair.

She's going
on a date or something.

A what?

An early lunching appointment
she said.

She's getting real fancy.

She's under the dryer now.

Good.

And keep her in one place while
I talk to her.

Oh Mike I thought you left.

No I haven't.

The grils told me your going to
skip breakfast.

Oh thanks just the same, I
thought I'd skip breakfast.

No they told me you were going
to get gussied up for a date.

The date?

Oh I think its the 14th.

Oh honey I'm in a terrible
hurry.

I don't have much time and

oh, sorry!

I understand you have an
appointment in town.

Lunchin.

With Ellie?

No

It's a secret.

It's all part of the same
secret.

Well I supposed you still don't
want to talk about it?

No I'd rather not talk about it.

So if you don't mind honey...

I do mind!

Listen! I hardly had any sleep
last night.

I'm going to be burning
curiosity all day.

Oh thanks honey, hope you have a
good day too!

Bye!

Eggs Benedict and iced tea
for both of us, please.

Do you think
it's silly

of me to try this,
Mr. Delafield?

I mean, after all,
I am a rank amateur.

I've never written
anything before except letters.

( chuckles )

Well, until you put it
down on paper, Mrs. Brady,

you'll never really know.

Mike, what are you
doing here?

I happened to be
lunching over there
with a client.

Uh, well, Mike,
you remember Mr. Delafield.

This is my husband, Mike Brady.

Of course. We met
a week or so ago

at a party given
by the Campbells.

We did?

Yes, casually.

Why don't you join us?

MIKE:
Thank you.

I'm, uh, the editor
of Tomorrow's Woman magazine.

Oh, yes.

I'm sorry, I
didn't remember.

That's perfectly all right.

I spent most of the evening

with Mrs. Brady.

( chuckling )

Well, you must be

very proud
of her.

Hmm? Oh, proud. Yes.

Yes, of course, I am.

This big jump she's taking

into the world
of journalism.

You know, we feel

that a magazine such as ours
is an ideal market

for the story that
Mrs. Brady is writing
about your family.

Story?

Story!

For tomorrow's woman magazine?

About us?

That's right kids.

That's the most exciting thing
I've ever heard.

Everyone reads tomorrow's woman.

Even me!

(laugh)

I think its neat.

Even if its only a womans
magazine?

Tomorrow's Woman happens to be a
very fine magazine

Yeah besides what other magazine

would want a story about a

woman with three girls marrying
a man with three boys.

Not popular mechanics.

Anyway, its exciting isn't?

Yeah! We've never been a story
before.

I'm sure you'll be

comfortable here, honey.

But this has always

been your den, dear.

Listen, I am the proudest
husband in town,

and you can have
this whole den to yourself

until you finish
that article.

Now, try the chair.

For what?

Sitting purposes! See if you,
it and that typewriter

are in full accord here.

Okay. Well,
it seems just fine.

My goodness, I can't think
of anything else I need.

Well, two things.

First, privacy,
which you'll have

as soon as I leave here.

And second-- the first piece
of paper to write on. There.

Oh...

What's the matter?

It sure looks blank.

You boys are supposed
to empty the wastebaskets,

not read what's in them.

We're just average
curious kids.

No one is going
to read this article

until I'm finished.

Okay, but we're running
out of places to dump these.

Maybe you could
scrunch 'em
up tighter.

Go on.

Look out, look out.

Clear the road.

Hi, honey.

Hi.
How's it going?

Well... just great.

For the paper drive.

"Never forget
the first time..."

Uh-uh-uh-uh.

Not until
it's finished.

You know, Mike,

everybody's been
so great through all this,

especially the kids.

They have been
absolute angels.

Yeah, I think
they're practicing
to be famous angels.

Thank you, love.

I'm Marcia Brady,

the oldest of
the three Brady daughters.

If you read
mother's article carefully,

you must know
I begin on page three.

How does it feel
to have a mother

as talented and successful
as ours?

Well, it feels lovely,
my dear.

Just lovely.

In the article,
I'm called Cindy

but my real name
is Cynthia.

It's so nice to have
met you, darling.

( all giggling )

A necktie?

Well, sure, Pete.

When you're famous,
you can't look
like a slob.

Does that mean you have
to wear clean socks, too?

There.

Now, how do I look?

Like a slob with a tie.

Alice, this is
the third time

you've dusted
this desk.

Say no more,
Mrs. Brady.

I-I was just wondering
if I was in the article.

Well, of course
you are, Alice.

You're one of
the family.

As a matter of fact,
you're here at a
very special time.

I am?

Yeah, watch.

Just two more words.

The... End.

Ah!

Well, Tomorrow's Woman,
here you come.

Congratulations,
Mrs. Brady.

What's the article
going to be called?

Well, I haven't
decided yet.

I have to discuss that
with Mr. Delafield.

As a matter of fact,
I'm taking this down
there right now.

He promised me an answer
within a week.

Mike, Mr. Delafield
said a week

and it's been a week.

Don't you think
I ought to call him?

No, honey. In business,
a week means, oh...

ten days or two weeks.

Don't worry,
he'll call.

Yes, but I gave my number
to his secretary

and maybe she lost it.

Oh, honey. Relax.

( doorbell ringing )

Mike, do you
think that's him?

Oh, Carol.

Or maybe it's
a special delivery messenger

with a letter of acceptance,
or it could be a check or...

Or maybe it's...

I know a great way to find out.

Open the door.

Oh, no. Oh, Mike.
Oh, I couldn't.

I mean, I-I'd just go to pieces.

( doorbell ringing )

Okay.

I won't even look

or listen.

Oh, it's probably
a salesman anyway.

Hey, honey, you were right.

Special delivery,
Tomorrow's Woman.

Oh, my goodness, it's
awfully big, isn't it,

for a letter or...
for a check?

Maybe it's a big check.

It's my story.

They sent it back.

Well, sometimes
they ask for changes.

Oh. Well, there's
a letter with it, too.

"Dear Mrs. Brady:

"You have certainly
accomplished

an Herculean task."

I guess it was
pretty big.

"And I thank you
for letting me

read your manuscript."

Isn't that nice?

He thanks me.

"But, as I pointed out
at our first meeting,

it was strictly a
speculative venture."

That's right, he did.
I remember.

"And, unfortunately,
I feel the story

"doesn't fit our needs
at the present time.

So I'm herewith
returning it with..."

et cetera, et cetera,
et cetera.

Mike, I've been
rejected.

Flatly rejected.

Oh, honey.

Only by Tomorrow's Woman,
not by tonight's husband.

The explanation is really
quite simple, Mr. Brady.

The story your wife wrote

tells it like it is.
That's all.

Well, what's
wrong with that?

You can't mix
a second marriage, six kids,

a housekeeper and a dog

and come up with
Romeo and Juliet.

I realize that.

But Tomorrow's Woman magazine

likes to accentuate
the positive...

the pleasant side of things.

You mean...
not tell it like it is.

Mr. Brady, today's
world is grim enough.

Tomorrow's Woman...

Well, we're
looking for...

for happy angles
in life stories.

Not exactly rose-colored
glasses, but...

Yeah, I see. I see.

Well, what if we let Mrs. Brady
make another try?

Accentuating the positive,
as you say.

I'd be more than happy

to read any revised version
she'd care to submit.

But, Mike, you couldn't.
You didn't.

Yeah, I could
and I did.

After the way I was rejected?
Knowing how I'd feel?

Honey, you weren't treated
any differently

than any other writer who's
received a rejection slip,

and the way you feel

is sorry for yourself,
that's all.

Sorry for myself?!

Yeah. Listen,
Delafield says

that you placed
too much emphasis

on the problems in our lives

instead of the lighter,
happier times we've had.

If you rewrite it,

he says he'll be more
than pleased to read it.

Oh, no, Mike Brady.

I've had it.

Filled wastebaskets,
rejection slips, blank pages.

I'm not going near
that typewriter again.

The End. Again.

That must be
a big relief.

Oh, it is, Alice.

Only this time, Mr. Delafield
isn't getting first look at it.

I want several of my most severe
critics to read it first.

Well, all right.

You've all had
a chance to read it.

What do you think?

And don't mince words.

Common let me have it. The
truth.

Alice?

Well, I really had
something else on my mind

when I read it, Mrs. Brady.

I was expecting Sam, you know.

Alice, are you telling me that

my story wasn't interesting
enough to hold your attention?

Oh I didn't say that

I didn't say that at all, did I?

Greg, what was your reaction?

The typing was great, Mom.

The typing?

I'm big on western and
whodoneits.

I don't know much about stories
like yours.

Nobody got shot or killed or
anything.

Marcia?

Well, it's all so sweet
and goody-goody.

We're always
helping each other

and happy
and smiling.

What about times

like when the washing
machine overflowed

and we all
had a big fight?

Well, I had to change that.
Magazine policy.

Was that your only reaction?

No. I guess you did
a pretty good job

considering what you
had to work with-- us.

Mike?

( sighs )

Honey, a husband can't
testify against his wife.

Well, you gave Delafield
what he asked for.

I'm going to take it
down to him myself.

( laughing )

Excuse me, Mrs. Brady

but what are you
made up for, Halloween?

Oh, I just thought
I'd clean out the fireplace.

Help me take my mind off
of... well, you know.

Well, you only sent the story
to the magazine yesterday.

You couldn't expect
to hear yet.

I don't expect
to hear, period.

( phone rings )

Hello.

Yes, this is
Mrs. Brady speaking.

Who's calling?

Mr. Delafield?

I just put your manuscript down,
Mrs. Brady.

I could hardly wait
to call you.

Oh, well, that's very nice
of you, Mr. Delafield.

Your rewrites are exactly
what we want.

What did he say?
Is it good?

We'd like to schedule it for
publication next month.

And, of course,
you should be introduced

to our promotion department

at once.

At once?

Oh, as soon as possible.

And would a small tea
at your house be convenient?

We'd like to have our
photographer

take some candid pictures of
your family at home.

and meet a few of the local
critics and formals

The suspense
is killing me.

I think the suspen...

Yes, I think that can
be arranged, Mr. Delafield.

Splendid.

Shall we say, uh, Friday?

Oh, Friday's fine.

Excellent.

Let's say, uh, 3:00 or 4:00?

Oh, it doesn't matter
to me.

Three or four,
four or three.

Three, four,
four, three, what?

Shh!

All right, let's make it 3:00.

Uh, uh...

Three, four,
four, three, what?

Shh!

( stammers ):
Uh, that'll be
just fine, Mr. Delafield.

And thank you.
Yeah... Thank you.

( chuckles )

Wonderful.

Good-bye, Mrs. Brady.

Well, what did he say?

Let's see...
finger sandwiches,

pastries,

tea and coffee
for the adults

and maybe a bowl
of punch for the kids.

( frustrated sob )

Oh, I'm sorry, Alice.

Mr. Delafield
liked my story.

He's going to buy it.

Oh, Mrs. Brady!

Congratulations.

And we're going
to start with a tea

on Friday at 4:00.

( doorbell rings )

Mr. Delafield!

We did say 3:00,
didn't we, Mrs. Brady?

No.

I mean, uh, yes.

Yes, indeed. Yes. Uh...

We said 3:00.
Of course.

I guess.

Come in.

Thank you.

This is Danny Englebert,

one of our very
best photographers.

Hi.

And my Editorial
Assistant, Daisy Lewis.

Hi.
And Mr. Jim Raymond,

head of our
promotional department.

Oh...

And Wally
Witherspoon.

Hope you read
"Wake up With Witherspoon"

in your morning paper,
Mrs. Brady.

Oh... we never miss it.

And, uh, Nora Maynard,

who I trust will have
a few nice things

to say about
the Brady family

in her syndicated
literary column.

So this is Mrs. Brady.

Well, uh, would you all
excuse me while I change?

I was really
expecting you at 4:00.

Why don't you just
make yourselves at home?

Well, that's
what you did.

Well, I don't care what you say.
I didn't do it!

Just because you're older
than I am, Marcia Brady,

doesn't mean you have
to chop my school friends.

MARCIA:
You call
those goons friends?

Girls...

( hiccup )

I've got the hiccups.

Girls, we have guests.

These are
my daughters,

Marcia, Jan
and Cindy.

These are
the three lovable little moppets

you wrote about, Mrs. Brady?

These are the three.

There are three boys in the
family, too, aren't there?

JAN:
They're right
behind us.

Bobby tore
his good pants.

( hiccup )

I got caught on
that same old fence.

Peter, your eye!

I got in another
fight with Buddy Hinton.

Mom, I talked
to the school nurse.

She said I have poison oak.

( kids screaming )

Poison oak?

And, uh, those...

were my boys.

Not quite the darling
little tykes I expected.

Well, uh,
why don't you all sit down?

It'll only take me
a minute to, uh, change.

I bet you'd love
something to eat.

Alice! Would you bring
those sandwiches, please?

Yes, ma'am.

Oops. I forgot
the mayonnaise.

Hi, honey. I'm home.

( both yelp )

I'll snap those,
Mr. Brady.

Hello, everybody.

This must be Mr. Brady.

Yeah. Head of the family
and chief flower dropper.

How do you do?

Mike, uh, this is,
uh, Nora Maynard

and, uh,
Wally Silverspoon.

Witherspoon.

DELAFIELD:
Uh, Mr. Brady,

these are members of my staff.

How do you do?

Mr. Delafield,

I'm afraid the family
in Mrs. Brady's story

bears little resemblance
to this one.

Well...

Perhaps a ghostwriter
wrote your story.

No, no. She not only wrote it,
she rewrote it, too.

MAYNARD:
Well, it certainly
wasn't about

this delightfully normal
family and its problems.

WITHERSPOON:
I'm afraid
the model family

you wrote about exists
only in fairy tales.

Take the advice

of an experienced
reviewer, Mrs. Brady.

The truth isn't
only stranger
than fiction,

but far more
interesting to
the average reader.

Right. Tell it like
it is, Mrs. Brady.

Tell it like it is.

Nora, let's see if some
sandwiches survived the crash.

Come on, fellows.

Well, I suppose they
wouldn't give my story

a very good review,
Mr. Delafield.

No. No,
they wouldn't.

And I guess you don't
want to publish it now.

Oh, no,
not under these conditions.

Well, honey,
even famous writers

have had stories
rejected, you know.

Yes, but I had
the same story rejected twice.

Oh, correction.

Just once.

I'm going to publish
your first version.

But you said...

DELAFIELD:
Mrs. Brady,

I never listen to what I say.

I listen to what they say.

Oh, Mike,
I can hardly wait

to get in there
to my typewriter.

You can't wait
to write another story.

No, I can't wait to break it,

so I'll never have
to go through this again.

You want us to empty
your wastebaskets, Alice?

So we can read
what's on

the scrunched-up paper.

That scrunched-up
paper's important.

That may be
the best part.

Now, get. You're
disturbing a very
busy writer at work.

When are you going
to stop writing your story

and start cooking
our dinner?

Oh, your mother's
doing that for me today

so that I can finish this.

Well, Alice, your
dinner's ready.

Thank you.

Oh, boys, ours is
on the table, too.

Would you go tell your
father and the girls?

GREG
Sure.

There.

Well, how's it going?

Fine. I'm glad
you inspired me.

Good.

Oh, Alice, could
you do me a favor?

Sure. What is it?

Can I have your autograph?

Autograph?

Certainly, Mrs. Brady.

( chuckling ):
Oh...

"Ernest Hemingway"?

Well, I thought I might
as well start at the top.

Alice...