Becker (1998–2004): Season 3, Episode 12 - The Trouble with Harry - full transcript

Hey, here's a positive message
to the youth of America.

You know, don't study. Play football.

I mean, after all, some dumb running
back from Illiterate State University

just signed
an 85 million-dollar contract.

But can he add? No.

Subtract? No.

Can he even write his own name?

Hey, come on, he doesn't have to.

All he needs is for somebody to pry
the beer can out of his beefy hand,

slap in a crayon
and show him where to mark the X.

Hey, buddy, what's your problem?



I'll tell you what my problem is.

A bunch of overpaid,
overfed pituitary freaks

standing around in ladies' pants,
blowing in their hands like:

"Ooh, it's cold out here,"
while the rest of the world

showers them with money, applause
and sneaker endorsements.

Yeah, I'm betting this isn't the first time
you've come in this place

spouting your mouth off on a subject
you knew nothing about.

You got that right.
Yesterday, he came in...

Hey, I'm talking here.

You don't know the first damn thing
about football.

You don't know what it's like
to wake up in so much pain,

you don't know
if you can get out of bed,

go out onto a practise field.

And at best, you've got a what?
A five-year career?



That is if you don't have a
career-ending injury your first game.

The last thing you need
is some big-mouth,

candied-ass, knock-kneed dork
crapping all over your profession.

And by the way,

I'm very self-conscious
about these beefy hands.

Do you believe that guy?

Believe him? I love him.

Mrs. Collins,
I want you to go home and relax.

I'll have a better idea
what's causing your rapid heartbeat

once I get all your lab tests back.

In the meantime, I want you to avoid
anything overly stimulating.

Well, do the best you can. Goodbye.

Was that Mrs. Collins?

I wanna thank her for bringing in

the herbal tea
and the sugar-free cookies.

This diet is killing me.

- You're on a diet?
- No, Margaret is.

And between you and me,
it's making her a real B-l-T-C...

See what Mrs. Collins brought you?

All sugarless.

And tasteless.
Get them away from me.

Well, you don't have to bite
my head off.

Like I need more empty calories.

Excuse me,
are you Dr. John Becker?

Yup. Try as I might,
no one else wants the job.

Ha, ha, my name is Janet Katz.

I work in a nursing home
in Philadelphia.

And, well, there's never a good way
to say this.

A former patient of yours,
Harry Grandstapf,

recently passed away.

I'm sorry. I know you were close.

Grandstapf?

He was such a sweet man.

And he was always talking
about you.

No one was ever as smart, kind
or understanding as Dr. Becker.

So he was delirious at the end.

- Grandstapf. I really have no idea.
- He named you in his will.

Any idea how I'm gonna make it
through the day

knowing that...

So, what did Dr. Becker get?

Oh, my Lord.

His ashes? He left me his ashes?

I guess he felt you'd know
the right thing to do with them.

Wait, are you saying
there's a dead guy in there?

Linda, show a little respect.

Sorry.

But he is in there, right?

- Why me? What about his family?
- He had no one left.

- There was just you and me.
- What about you?

It doesn't seem fair
that I get to keep this,

and you walk away empty-handed.

Actually, uh, Harry left me
a rather nice sum of money.

You got the money, I got the ashes?

- John.
- I'm not saying it's not an honour.

I'm just wondering what I did
to deserve it, that's all.

Oh, where are my manners?
Would you like a cup of coffee?

Oh, thank you,
but I've got to get to the airport.

Thanks to Harry,
I'm finally gonna get to see Italy.

Goodbye, Dr. Becker.

I'll enjoy the trip so much more now
that I know Harry's in good hands.

All right, thank you. Um, have fun.

Now don't worry.
I'll take good care of Harry.

Okay.

Throw that away for me, will you?

John, this man was a patient.

He liked you,
and he trusted you with his remains.

You can't just toss him in the trash.

Well, we can't leave him
on the counter.

It's kind of bad for business.

I want him out of here
by the time I get back from lunch.

Well, what do you expect me to do?

Flush him down the toilet
like Linda's goldfish?

Hey. You told me Goldie went
to live on a farm.

John, his soul may have gone
to heaven,

but he still deserves
to be treated with dignity.

So say a prayer, then flush him.

Linda, go back to that game of chance
you call a filing system

and see if you can find
Mr. Grandstapf's file.

Maybe it will give us a clue
about what to do with him.

It doesn't matter who Harry was,
because this is not Harry.

Come on, just toss him in the trash.

Oh, no, no, no.
You're so heartless, you do it.

You take the body of that kind old man,
and you just toss him in the trash

with the candy wrappers
and the cookie crumbs.

Diet's working out well, I see.

Mind your own business.

Go ahead, John.

Go ahead. Throw him away.

What's the matter? You said it
yourself, it's not really Harry.

All right, fine. All right, Margaret.

- I knew you couldn't do it.
Oh, I can.

I'm just not gonna do it here,
or you'll never let me hear the end of it.

I'm gonna toss it in a dumpster.

There are people
who eat out of dumpsters.

Circle of life, Margaret, circle of life.

Mike, I was thinking
about what we could do this weekend,

and I came up with a great idea.

Oh, yeah? What's that?

Well, there's this new exhibit
at the Whitney, and I'm dying to see it.

- And I thought we could go.
- A museum? Get real.

Maybe a movie.

I love movies. Saturday night?

Saturday? I'm supposed to go to Jim's
to catch the Knick game.

But just leave it open,
and I'll let you know.

Oh, um, I'm gonna be home tonight.

Good.

Bye.

- What is wrong with you?
- What are you talking about?

It may be none of my business,
but Mike treats you like dirt.

And what's worse is that you let him.

Look,
I'll admit Mike's a little self-involved.

But I don't care. I like him.

Wait a minute.

He's really good-Iooking, isn't he?

I could lick his face like a Dove bar.

Jake, Reg, coffee, please.

What's that?

Some patient of mine died,
left me his ashes.

Ew, Becker, get it off the counter.

It's not sanitary.

Reg, he's dead.
Your counter can't hurt him now.

You're carrying around a dead man?

What's the matter with everyone?

You know,
this is no more still a man

than that burger you're eating
is still a horse.

Greetings, sweathogs.

Hey, I got your message
about fixing your refrigerator.

- So did you fix it?
- You're on the list.

- What list?
- Okay, you got me. There's no list.

So, what's in the cookie jar?

One of his patients.

Yeah, he left me his ashes.

Too bad. If he left his whole body,
you could drive in the carpool lane.

I tried to throw it in a dumpster,
but the bums kept staring at me.

With the garbage?
That's pretty cold, John.

Why did he pick you?

Apparently, because I'm kind
and understanding.

So he was delirious at the end.

- He deserves better than a dumpster.
- What's the difference?

- Would you like to be in the trash?
- I could care less.

All I know is,
I don't want my funeral to be sad.

I want a big party with people drinking,
laughing, having a good time.

I don't think you'll have to worry
about that, Bob.

So how about you, John?

- Yeah, I'd go to that party.
Ha, ha, one thing I do know.

I want a big funeral where people
come and celebrate my life,

and talk about all the great things
I've done.

Man, I gotta start doing
some great things.

You know, you people just don't get it.
It doesn't matter, you know.

As far as I'm concerned, plant me,
fry me, shoot me into space.

You know, the human body
is just a package, a shell.

- It's nothing.
- But what about the soul?

Fine. Play Gladys Knight when I die.

How about you, Reg?
Got any special plans?

I'm with Becker.

What anyone wants to do
with my body is fine with me.

Oh, the nights Bob has spent
dreaming of hearing you say that.

After I'm dead.

And even then,
I don't wanna be alone with you.

I mean that.

Yeah, the name's Collins,
Susan Collins.

I'm trying to determine the cause
of an irregular heartbeat,

so I need a rush on the blood work.

What do you mean, what do I mean?
I mean, right away, in a hurry, rush.

Don't you people have a word for that
in your language?

Well, that's the problem.
You need a shorter word for "rush."

Yeah, and I need those blood tests
back immediately.

Please tell me you're not using
Mr. Grandstapf's remains

as a paperweight.

- Not just as a paperweight.
- Oh!

- Walnut?
- I can't, I'm on a diet.

And you are terrible.

You came in here
for a reason, right?

Yes, I found a memorial park
that'll take him off your hands.

Oh, good. How soon?

As soon as you write a cheque
for $750.

For a hole in the wall?

Plus 250 for perpetual care.

Oh, come on, he's dust.
What are they gonna do? Dust?

Look, I got you the information.

Use it, don't use it.
I really don't give a damn.

Just don't start with me.

You know, you're a real pain
when you're on a diet.

Well, at least I have an excuse.

Linda, why aren't you looking
for Mr. Grandstapf's chart?

Why bother?

If I find it,
is it gonna make him any less dead?

It's all so pointless.

We're all gonna wind up like that.

I mean, in the end,

what's the difference
between him and me?

Well, for starters, he's useful.

You see that? You see what he's doing
to morale around here?

You know, the last thing Linda needs
is another excuse not to work.

I'm gonna get rid of him.

- Where?
- I don't know.

I'll leave him in a cab somewhere.

Oh, why waste cab fare?

Why don't you just leave him
on the subway?

You know something?

That's a good idea.
Thanks, Margaret.

John, even somebody like you

wouldn't leave a dead man
riding around on a subway.

Oh, come on.
It's not like he'd be the only one.

Hey, hey, hey.
That's mine, that's mine. Give it back.

Look, there happens
to be a dead guy in there.

Have a little respect, please.

Creep.

- More coffee?
Please.

Thanks.
- Hey, Reg.

Yeah, Mike.

I thought we'd have dinner
at my place tonight.

Oh, I'd love to, but you know
I have Psych class on Monday night.

Skip it.

Well, I guess I could get notes
from someone.

- Great. I'll order from Giordano's?
- Okay.

You can stop by and pick it up
on your way over.

And if I'm a little late,
just wait outside.

I'm gonna hit the gym after work.

You believe the way
that guy's treating Reggie?

Nobody's that damn handsome.

Hey, you haven't seen this guy.
I mean, if Bob were a woman...

Oh, what am I saying?

A guy like that would never look twice
at a woman like Bob.

Good morning.

Hey, I thought you were getting rid
of Cinderfella.

Becker, get that creepy thing
out of here.

You heard her, Bob. Take off.

So, what are you reading?

Oh, doing a little research,

trying to find out
what's wrong with a patient of mine.

Just a guess, Quincy,

but I think somebody burned him up
and put him in a can.

Not this one.

I have a lady
who has an irregular heartbeat.

I don't know what's causing it.

Before anybody says anything,
I know how I look, and I don't care.

I'm just gonna end up dead
anyways.

So why should I bother
taking a shower,

getting dressed or fixing my hair,
because...

Later, Reg.

Excuse me.

I think I just found a reason to live.

Sorry, Linda,
that's my reason to live.

You are so lucky.

Yeah, too bad
you don't have a boyfriend

who orders you around
and treats you like dirt.

I do, but he doesn't look like that.

- John, talk to Reg, would you?
- Huh? All right, uh...

Coffee and a cheese omelette.

Okay, bad choice.
Linda, you're a woman.

Will you tell Reggie
she needs more self-esteem?

Would you say his eyes

are more bluish green
or greenish blue?

Actually, they're more of a teal.

Did you hear that, Jake?

He has teal eyes.

So even if the way he treats me
appears to be bad for my self-esteem,

walking around
with a guy that handsome

actually raises my self-esteem.

So the self-esteem factors
cancel each other out.

Leaving you
with no self-esteem at all.

Exactly.

Look, I know
it's not the healthiest relationship,

but Mike has other good qualities
besides just being handsome.

Can he make a cheese omelette?

Well, he's not
the most considerate guy

I've ever gone out with.

Or the most attentive
or the most sensitive.

But I'll tell you what he is.

He's handsome. Really handsome.

And I like him,
and I'm gonna keep him.

- Reg.
- Oh, come on, just for a little while.

Reg.

Oh, all right, I'll throw him back.

Don't worry, Reg,
the perfect guy's out there somewhere.

My perfect guy doesn't exist.

Much like my omelette.

Well, what exactly
are you looking for?

Eggs, cheese.

I'm looking for someone who listens,
who doesn't criticise,

who doesn't tune you out
to watch sports,

and who isn't in the relationship
just for sex.

You know anyone like that?

Reg, meet Harry.

Well, I see Harry's back.

I knew you couldn't get rid of him.

I can too, and I'm going to.

The problem's not me.
It's the city, you know.

There's not one place
in all five boroughs

where you can get rid of a dead guy.

- Damn Giuliani.
- Ha, ha.

Oh, you're not fooling me
for a second.

You know that that's a human being
or was a human being.

And you are too good of a person
to just throw him out.

Oh, yeah?
First good wind, this guy's in Jersey.

So should I call
the memorial park or not?

Oh, all right, I guess so. Go on.

This is insane, you know.

A thousand bucks
for a hole in the wall.

It's just insane. You hear me?

You know, I tell you something, Harry.
You...

You are more of a pain in the ass dead
than you were alive.

At least, I think you are,

because I don't really remember
who you were.

Oh, I forgot to tell you.

The lab faxed over
Mrs. Collins' test results.

I mean, they look pretty good.
What do you think?

This just doesn't make any sense.
It's all normal.

There's no reason
for her rapid heartbeat.

Well, it's still going on.

- She called a little while ago.
- Oh.

Mm. Oh, and, John?

I heard you in here.

Don't talk to the urn.

It's weird.

I was not talking to the urn.

Do you believe her?

You know, Mike, I don't appreciate
the way you treat me. I deserve better.

And, frankly,
I have too much self-esteem

to continue in this relationship.

Tonight?

Come on, what could it hurt?

Reg.

Sorry, Mike, pick up your own shirts.

All right, Reggie, with the dump up.

Dump up?
What are you talking about?

Don't you see? You just dumped
a really good-Iooking guy.

So you dumped up.

No one ever dumps up.

- Yeah, I did, didn't I?
- Yep.

Only someone who felt really good
about themselves could've done that.

You're right.
I got rid of a really great-Iooking guy.

So what if I'm all alone.

I'm proud of myself.

You're actually buying this?

Shut up, Bob. It's all I've got.

You know, guys like Mike
need to hear the truth more often.

In fact, I'd like to call him
and tell him off too.

What's his number?

You just want his number
so you can sleep with him, don't you?

Well, yes, but, afterwards, there will be
some pretty stern pillow talk.

I just don't get it, Harry.

You know,
every one of Mrs. Collins' tests

came back negative.

Electrolytes, CBC.

Hormone levels are fine,
so it's not the asthma medication.

Doesn't drink, doesn't smoke,
she's always on a diet.

What is it with women
and diets anyway?

Diet herbal tea, sugarless cookies,
all that crap.

Oh, that's it. Ephedra.

Hey, Margaret.

Thank you, Harry.

- Get...
- What is it?

Get Mrs. Collins on the phone,
tell her to stop drinking her diet tea.

It's filled with ephedra.

It's reacting
with her asthma medication.

- It's making her heart race.
- Oh, okay, good.

Oh, John, I'm drinking that tea too.

Should I stop?

Not unless you're being treated
for asthma.

Well, could I be,
because I really hate that tea.

Margaret, I didn't put you on this diet.
You did.

You know, what is it with you women?
You wanna end up looking like this?

You wanna quit your diet,
quit your diet.

- Amazing.
- Okay, you're the doctor.

- I found out who Mr. Grandstapf was.
- Finally.

I was looking under D for dead,
when I suddenly realised

that he was an O for old guy,
and I was like, "Duh."

- Just give me the file, will you?
- So then I looked in the O...

"Harry Grandstapf, born 1912,
lived on Gerard Avenue,

worked 45 years as a doorman
at The Carlyle Hotel."

Of course.

Harry the doorman.

Harry, I am so sorry I forgot you.

You're talking to it again.

No, no, this is not an it, Linda.

This is Harry the doorman.

After he retired, he was coming
in here all the time with little ailments,

and I could never find out
what was wrong with him.

- Ha, ha.
- Well, considering how he ended up,

maybe you should have looked
a little harder.

Linda, there was nothing wrong
with him except that he was Ionely.

He used to come here
for the company.

Here? He was Ionely.

Well, I'm gonna go. I gotta get
to the laundry before it closes.

I'm going out with this new guy
and I gotta pick up his shirts.

- I can't believe Harry's dead.
Oh.

You know,
I used to look forward to his visits.

Ha, ha, remember all the stories
he used to tell

about the famous people he met?

Yeah, I remember. He told me that
Sinatra once tipped him 100 bucks.

- Harry was a good guy.
- Yeah.

Well, I guess I'll drop him
at the memorial park on my way home.

You know, there's no need for that.

I think I have an idea here.

What?

You're gonna just leave him
on the floor?

He's a doorman, you know, just...

Uh, you know, put him back to work.

Harry,
I think you're gonna like it here.

Hours are good,
the people are nice,

but don't expect a tip from John
at Christmas.

Margaret, don't talk to the urn.

It's weird.