Cheers (1982–1993): Season 1, Episode 12 - The Spy Who Came in for a Cold One - full transcript
A mysterious man named Eric Finch walks into the bar one evening. He has the persona of James Bond, and does let it slip that he is indeed a spy. Diane doesn't believe his story. Sam reminds her that the bar is a place to escape from reality and if Eric wants to spin this story, real or not, there is no harm. Despite Sam's advice, Diane keeps pressing Eric, and he finally does admit that he has indeed been lying to everyone. This admission deflates everyone in the bar, including Diane, since he was only trying to escape from his hum-drum life. The next "story" he tells hits a little closer to Diane's sensibilities, and thus she falls under his tales. However, is it the truth? Will the next story he tells be the truth? Will anything he says be the truth?
- Evening, everybody.
- Norman.
- What's new, Norm?
- Most of my wife.
You were going to Maine
for the holidays with Vera?
- Yeah, l am, Coach.
- What happened?
Nothing. Vera drove up last night.
l had to stay for an interview.
l'm gonna drive up tonight.
She left me the directions here.
- Should have no trouble finding it.
- Getting away, Norman?
Yeah. We got just the two of us.
Big trees up there, you know.
They got a frozen lake,
one radio station.
lt sounds very romantic, Norman.
Yeah, it does, doesn't it?
Where can a guy go
for a good time around here?
Enjoy.
No, wait, pal, l can't.
l can't do that to the navy.
lf you're in the mood for gum,
l can get you a fresh stick.
Actually, l was looking for bugs.
Try the blonde girl's hair.
- Say, you're from England?
- How'd you guess?
You sound smart
even when you say stupid things.
l hope you won't think
me presumptuous,
but dark, exotic women like you
bring a fever to my blood.
Wow! Classy!
My name is Carla. What can l get ya?
How do you do, Carla?
My name's Eric Finch.
Gin and bitters will do.
You have an interesting profile.
Neapolitan, right?
My grandfather was from Naples.
We have a saying in my business,
''Giving your heart
to a Neapolitan girl
is like
forgetting to burn your code book.''
Blast. Now l've bloody well done it.
- You're not a spy?
- Please, don't say anything more.
You might jeopardise my life
You see that man?
Yeah.
He might be the secret agent from
a foreign country's intelligence.
l'd hate to live there.
Alright, here's a little-known fact.
The smartest animal is the pig.
- What? They look pretty stupid.
- Yeah, your average oinker.
Scientists say if a pig
had thumbs and a language,
he could be trained to do
manual labour.
Be part of the workforce?
Yeah.
They'd give 30 years loyal service,
then at the retirement dinner,
you could eat 'em.
- Alright.
- The smartest animal's a pigeon.
A thousand cars on the turnpike,
they find mine.
No, l have to give my vote
to the ants.
- How do you figure that?
- See those farms they build?
They build those without plans.
To ants. For all you do,
this one's for you.
Coach, who do you say
is the smartest animal?
l gotta say Francis the Talking Mule.
No, you're not catching on here.
That was a real guy talking.
lt wasn't that he could talk,
it was what he said, right?
Yeah, it was a lot better than
that drivel Mister Ed was giving us.
- Good point.
- Sam, a gin and bitters.
Hey, everybody, come here.
Don't look suddenly,
but there's a guy over there
who's a secret agent.
- That's ridiculous.
- Thanks for being so cool.
- You mean like a spy?
- You mean like James Bond?
Norm, Jack, it's stakeout time.
- What makes you think that?
- He kinda opened up to me.
l was sitting talking to him
and... he said he thinks l'm sexy.
They're trained to lie.
You know, Diane,
he just got back from Ankara. He says
l'm cuter than any Bulgarian girl.
Well, l'm not surprised,
Ankara is in Turkey.
Great. l really wanted to know that.
Another fascinating fact
from the answer geek.
- What's the matter with her?
- You're always correcting people.
- No, l'm not.
- l stand corrected.
- That doesn't count.
- l'm wrong again.
All l said was he doesn't sound like
he knows what he's talking about.
Who'd make the mistake
of thinking Ankara's in Bulgaria?
Well, Francis wouldn't.
lf you're a spy, why have you
got your back to the door?
Because l can see the door
reflected in your beautiful eyes.
That old line.
Your eyes remind me of an etching
l bought in Norway for 200 guilders.
- Norway's currency is the Krone.
- Diane.
lf you have a licence to kill,
can l use it a second?
- She's right.
- She is?
Of course. That how we broke down
Norway's economic system
by infiltrating the government
with foreign currency.
- ls that right?
- Diane.
That way we undermined
the people's confidence
and their totalitarian regime.
Norway
doesn't have a totalitarian regime.
Hey! Get it over here!
Pardonnez-moi.
l believe my employer craves a word.
- You bellowed?
- Yeah. What are you trying to do?
l don't believe that guy's a spy
for one minute. He's lying.
What? A customer in a bar is telling
tall tales to impress a waitress?
Call 60 Minutes.
Alright,... when you put it that way.
The thing is....
Look, why do you suppose
people come to bars?
Let me take a wild stab at that.
Perchance to drink?
Wrong. They come here to shoot off
their mouths and get away with it.
ln this bar everybody
gets to be a hero. What's the harm?
Sam, any kind of lie
is eventually destructive.
l was raised and educated
to prize truth above all else.
This from a woman wearing
rubber eyelashes and a padded bra.
- That's a lie.
- l'm gonna need some proof.
Look, all l'm saying is,
if this guy wants to be a spy,
humour him, indulge him.
- Sam.
- Come on. What's the big deal?
- OK, he's a spy.
- There you go.
Excuse me.
Carla here,
she inadvertently blew your cover.
Oh, boy!
So, l understand
you're in the spy game?
Yes, sir, what's it like to be a spy?
We swear not a word you say
will ever go beyond this room.
We never go beyond this room.
Can l... really trust you chaps?
- Yeah, sure. Everybody swear.
- We swear.
- Cross my heart.
- Alright.
What you've got to understand,
is that we're not all like how
we're portrayed in the cinema.
We don't think we're heroes,
we're just doing a job, putting
our lives on the line for democracy.
Tell us about
your most hair-raising mission.
You ever get betrayed in the sack
by a Russian babe?
Let me tell you
about Russian women.
The cold weather
makes them very passionate.
Lake Winnemucca, here l come.
You asked me about
my most exciting adventure.
l think of... Romania, 1 973.
Yes.
l was captured by the dreaded RPB.
The Ripba.
They're every bit as fiendish
as you've heard.
They even used the infamous twister
on me. The devils.
- What's the twister?
- lt's a ride at Coney lsland.
Those animals.
- Diane, why don't you just shut up?
- Carla, he's been lying to you.
- OK?
- No, he hasn't.
You are not a history expert,
you majored in poetry.
Tell her you haven't been lying,
Eric.
Tell her you haven't been lying,
Eric.
She's absolutely right.
You've been lying the whole time?
The whole time.
Let me get this straight.
Cold weather
does not make women passionate?
l'll see Vera in the spring.
Why did you lie to us?
Because my life
is very unexciting
and it's very dull.
l've been a failure
at everything l've tried to do.
But, you know, sometimes
late at night in a friendly bar,...
..l sometimes can make someone
believe that l'm interesting.
But you're much too smart for me.
You don't need any... illusions.
Good night, miss.
Before you say anything,
l want you to know that l could not
feel any worse than l do right now.
l'm so sorry.
l... forgot the tip.
Merry Christmas.
Wrong again.
l failed. l blew it.
l quit. l don't belong here.
There's no point arguing about it.
Who's arguing?
l am opinionated, l am stubborn,
l am smug....
A little louder,
they can't hear you in the back.
l'm a total washout as a cocktail
waitress. l don't belong here.
- Stay in touch, kid.
- Carla.
Diane, please, listen.
l don't know exactly
what's going on here,
but it looks like
you booted a grounder, right?
Right.
You know what l'd tell a player
when he made a mental error?
What?
Nothing. That's why l got fired.
Wait. Come back here.
Look, you made a mistake, that's all.
Go find the poor guy
bring him back and apologise.
A wonderful idea,
but where would l look?
l think your British Embassy
could probably help you there.
l've got a good ear for dialects.
My instincts tell me, limey.
His name is Eric Finch.
Alright, l'll do it.
l am going to comb this city.
l'll look everywhere,
every hotel, restaurant, cheap dive.
l'll find this man or die trying.
Excuse me.
Look who's back!
l just came back to try and explain
why l did what l did.
No.
Mr Finch, everybody in the bar
exaggerates a little.
Sure. For example,
l'm not really this good-looking.
Everybody in bars tells stories.
You just got a little carried away.
Right.
l'm afraid l'm the victim
of an overactive imagination.
When you spend 1 2 hours a day
in a room alone writing,
sometimes
you just lose touch with reality.
So l'm awfully sorry and l beg
your pardon and good night.
No. You write?
Yes. Mostly verse. Farewell.
Wait. You write poetry?
l'd love to hear some.
We all would.
- Yes.
- Yeah.
lt's not often we have a guy
in here who can write poetry.
A guy in the men's room, Sam,
writes some terrific stuff.
- Gin and bitters?
- Yes. Thank you.
- Are you published?
- No. l don't even send my stuff in.
- l'm not very good.
- Don't be silly.
Let me be the judge.
l majored in poetry.
- l thought it was philosophy.
- No, it was psychology,
but that was before Literature
and after French.
No, that was after Art History.
- And before Anthropology.
- We're forgetting lndian Studies.
- And Manchurian Folk Dancing.
- Alright.
At any rate, l would love
to see some of your work.
l've don't have anything with me.
lt's all in here... and here.
- l must hear one.
- Really?
Yes.
Alright. l'll try something.
How did it go?
''She l love, alas in vain,
Floats before my slumbering eyes;
And when she comes,
she lulls my pain;
And when she goes,
what pangs arise.''
- My God, that's lovely.
- l liked it. What do you think?
lt'll look great up on the tiles.
Mr Finch, l am awestruck.
- Me, too. Great.
- Please, tell us more.
Maybe not so soon. Give us a chance
to rub down the goose bumps.
This is a night l will never forget.
lt so happens
that l am on speaking terms
with a poetry editor
at The Atlantic Monthly.
He spoke at my college once.
l'll call him and tell him about you.
Wait. Aren't you
getting a little carried away here?
May l have the phone?
Yes, and loving it.
Humouring him's one thing. He can
have all the fantasies he wants here.
But you're going too far
to make him feel good.
Sam, the poem he wrote is excellent.
Scratch a liar, find a poet.
- He memorised one. What's it prove?
- We are now in my area of expertise.
When we want to talk about poetry,
we come to me.
When we want to talk about jock itch,
we come to you.
Yes. May l speak to him?
This is Diane Chambers.
He's chatting with John Updike?
Well, interrupt. No, l'm not kidding.
l have something that makes Updike
seem like small pommes de terre.
- Diane, l wouldn't do this.
- Yes, l'll wait.
Would you leave me alone.
Mr Finch, he really should hear this
directly from you. Come over, please.
What is your best work?
There's a little something
l dashed off this morning.
Wonderful.
Hello, my name is Diane Chambers.
Yes, l know you're busy, but l have
a wonderful surprise for you.
Just listen for a moment.
Verse alert, Cliffy,
strap yourself in, pal.
Dive.
Excuse me, we are about
to make literary history here.
Hello.
''My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in the watered shoot;''
Now, that's a poet.
Thank you.
''My heart is like an apple tree
Whose bough is bent
with thick-set fruit;
''My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles on a halcyon sea;
''My heart is gladder
than all these things
Because my love has come to me.''
The nuns taught us it in school.
l get tears just remembering.
No fooling. Tears?
Yeah.
They whacked us with their beads.
Yes, Rossetti, you're right.
Thank you for settling that bet.
Wonderful. To whom could l speak
about a subscription. l...?
l don't believe this guy.
You cannot believe a word
that comes out of his mouth.
lf you could fix TVs
and crack walnuts on your forehead,
you could be my ex-husband.
Mr Finch, whatever,
l don't know what your real story is,
and the last thing l want
is for you to tell me,
but l wanna thank you
for entertaining us.
- l'm really glad you came.
- Thank you, Sam.
- My real name's Thomas Hilliard lll.
- Well, whatever.
You have a very charming saloon here.
Thank you. l'm glad you like it.
To show you how much,
l'd like to buy it.
How much is it worth to you?
He's not gonna give up.
Wait, let me guess.
You are an eccentric millionaire
who hangs around bars
and tells stories about himself
to have fun with people, right?
Kinda like Howard Hughes,
Mr Hilliard?
Don't mention that name.
He died owing me money.
- Well, Sam, how much?
- Well, gee, this is kinda sudden.
Let's see, l guess, 20, 30 people
come here every night.
- $1 million seems fair to me.
- You've got it.
- Sam, you're forgetting the jukebox.
- He's right. Sorry. $2 million.
l think you're taking advantage
of me, Sam.
Hey, look at me everybody. Scratch
a bartender, find a millionaire.
This is not funny any more.
l was right about him.
He's a sick man
with a very warped sense of humour.
He doesn't care who he hurts.
He's a pathological liar.
Excuse me, Mr Hilliard.
Oh, my... God!
l just wanted to let you know
l'm here with the car.
Thank you, Robert. l'm ready.
l'm sorry
we couldn't do business, Sam.
Million and a half and l'll throw in
a blonde waitress.
Those papers
have arrived from Geneva.
l'll sign them on the plane.
Sam, will you ever be able
to forgive me?
- Come on, l'd never sell this place.
- l got the date.
l've never felt so abused.
l was wrong every step of the way.
l thought he was lying when he was
telling the truth and vice versa.
From now on, l will not believe
anything anybody says.
- You don't mean that. You serious?
- You bet l am.
You know,
l think l'm falling in love with you.
Really?
- Norman.
- What's new, Norm?
- Most of my wife.
You were going to Maine
for the holidays with Vera?
- Yeah, l am, Coach.
- What happened?
Nothing. Vera drove up last night.
l had to stay for an interview.
l'm gonna drive up tonight.
She left me the directions here.
- Should have no trouble finding it.
- Getting away, Norman?
Yeah. We got just the two of us.
Big trees up there, you know.
They got a frozen lake,
one radio station.
lt sounds very romantic, Norman.
Yeah, it does, doesn't it?
Where can a guy go
for a good time around here?
Enjoy.
No, wait, pal, l can't.
l can't do that to the navy.
lf you're in the mood for gum,
l can get you a fresh stick.
Actually, l was looking for bugs.
Try the blonde girl's hair.
- Say, you're from England?
- How'd you guess?
You sound smart
even when you say stupid things.
l hope you won't think
me presumptuous,
but dark, exotic women like you
bring a fever to my blood.
Wow! Classy!
My name is Carla. What can l get ya?
How do you do, Carla?
My name's Eric Finch.
Gin and bitters will do.
You have an interesting profile.
Neapolitan, right?
My grandfather was from Naples.
We have a saying in my business,
''Giving your heart
to a Neapolitan girl
is like
forgetting to burn your code book.''
Blast. Now l've bloody well done it.
- You're not a spy?
- Please, don't say anything more.
You might jeopardise my life
You see that man?
Yeah.
He might be the secret agent from
a foreign country's intelligence.
l'd hate to live there.
Alright, here's a little-known fact.
The smartest animal is the pig.
- What? They look pretty stupid.
- Yeah, your average oinker.
Scientists say if a pig
had thumbs and a language,
he could be trained to do
manual labour.
Be part of the workforce?
Yeah.
They'd give 30 years loyal service,
then at the retirement dinner,
you could eat 'em.
- Alright.
- The smartest animal's a pigeon.
A thousand cars on the turnpike,
they find mine.
No, l have to give my vote
to the ants.
- How do you figure that?
- See those farms they build?
They build those without plans.
To ants. For all you do,
this one's for you.
Coach, who do you say
is the smartest animal?
l gotta say Francis the Talking Mule.
No, you're not catching on here.
That was a real guy talking.
lt wasn't that he could talk,
it was what he said, right?
Yeah, it was a lot better than
that drivel Mister Ed was giving us.
- Good point.
- Sam, a gin and bitters.
Hey, everybody, come here.
Don't look suddenly,
but there's a guy over there
who's a secret agent.
- That's ridiculous.
- Thanks for being so cool.
- You mean like a spy?
- You mean like James Bond?
Norm, Jack, it's stakeout time.
- What makes you think that?
- He kinda opened up to me.
l was sitting talking to him
and... he said he thinks l'm sexy.
They're trained to lie.
You know, Diane,
he just got back from Ankara. He says
l'm cuter than any Bulgarian girl.
Well, l'm not surprised,
Ankara is in Turkey.
Great. l really wanted to know that.
Another fascinating fact
from the answer geek.
- What's the matter with her?
- You're always correcting people.
- No, l'm not.
- l stand corrected.
- That doesn't count.
- l'm wrong again.
All l said was he doesn't sound like
he knows what he's talking about.
Who'd make the mistake
of thinking Ankara's in Bulgaria?
Well, Francis wouldn't.
lf you're a spy, why have you
got your back to the door?
Because l can see the door
reflected in your beautiful eyes.
That old line.
Your eyes remind me of an etching
l bought in Norway for 200 guilders.
- Norway's currency is the Krone.
- Diane.
lf you have a licence to kill,
can l use it a second?
- She's right.
- She is?
Of course. That how we broke down
Norway's economic system
by infiltrating the government
with foreign currency.
- ls that right?
- Diane.
That way we undermined
the people's confidence
and their totalitarian regime.
Norway
doesn't have a totalitarian regime.
Hey! Get it over here!
Pardonnez-moi.
l believe my employer craves a word.
- You bellowed?
- Yeah. What are you trying to do?
l don't believe that guy's a spy
for one minute. He's lying.
What? A customer in a bar is telling
tall tales to impress a waitress?
Call 60 Minutes.
Alright,... when you put it that way.
The thing is....
Look, why do you suppose
people come to bars?
Let me take a wild stab at that.
Perchance to drink?
Wrong. They come here to shoot off
their mouths and get away with it.
ln this bar everybody
gets to be a hero. What's the harm?
Sam, any kind of lie
is eventually destructive.
l was raised and educated
to prize truth above all else.
This from a woman wearing
rubber eyelashes and a padded bra.
- That's a lie.
- l'm gonna need some proof.
Look, all l'm saying is,
if this guy wants to be a spy,
humour him, indulge him.
- Sam.
- Come on. What's the big deal?
- OK, he's a spy.
- There you go.
Excuse me.
Carla here,
she inadvertently blew your cover.
Oh, boy!
So, l understand
you're in the spy game?
Yes, sir, what's it like to be a spy?
We swear not a word you say
will ever go beyond this room.
We never go beyond this room.
Can l... really trust you chaps?
- Yeah, sure. Everybody swear.
- We swear.
- Cross my heart.
- Alright.
What you've got to understand,
is that we're not all like how
we're portrayed in the cinema.
We don't think we're heroes,
we're just doing a job, putting
our lives on the line for democracy.
Tell us about
your most hair-raising mission.
You ever get betrayed in the sack
by a Russian babe?
Let me tell you
about Russian women.
The cold weather
makes them very passionate.
Lake Winnemucca, here l come.
You asked me about
my most exciting adventure.
l think of... Romania, 1 973.
Yes.
l was captured by the dreaded RPB.
The Ripba.
They're every bit as fiendish
as you've heard.
They even used the infamous twister
on me. The devils.
- What's the twister?
- lt's a ride at Coney lsland.
Those animals.
- Diane, why don't you just shut up?
- Carla, he's been lying to you.
- OK?
- No, he hasn't.
You are not a history expert,
you majored in poetry.
Tell her you haven't been lying,
Eric.
Tell her you haven't been lying,
Eric.
She's absolutely right.
You've been lying the whole time?
The whole time.
Let me get this straight.
Cold weather
does not make women passionate?
l'll see Vera in the spring.
Why did you lie to us?
Because my life
is very unexciting
and it's very dull.
l've been a failure
at everything l've tried to do.
But, you know, sometimes
late at night in a friendly bar,...
..l sometimes can make someone
believe that l'm interesting.
But you're much too smart for me.
You don't need any... illusions.
Good night, miss.
Before you say anything,
l want you to know that l could not
feel any worse than l do right now.
l'm so sorry.
l... forgot the tip.
Merry Christmas.
Wrong again.
l failed. l blew it.
l quit. l don't belong here.
There's no point arguing about it.
Who's arguing?
l am opinionated, l am stubborn,
l am smug....
A little louder,
they can't hear you in the back.
l'm a total washout as a cocktail
waitress. l don't belong here.
- Stay in touch, kid.
- Carla.
Diane, please, listen.
l don't know exactly
what's going on here,
but it looks like
you booted a grounder, right?
Right.
You know what l'd tell a player
when he made a mental error?
What?
Nothing. That's why l got fired.
Wait. Come back here.
Look, you made a mistake, that's all.
Go find the poor guy
bring him back and apologise.
A wonderful idea,
but where would l look?
l think your British Embassy
could probably help you there.
l've got a good ear for dialects.
My instincts tell me, limey.
His name is Eric Finch.
Alright, l'll do it.
l am going to comb this city.
l'll look everywhere,
every hotel, restaurant, cheap dive.
l'll find this man or die trying.
Excuse me.
Look who's back!
l just came back to try and explain
why l did what l did.
No.
Mr Finch, everybody in the bar
exaggerates a little.
Sure. For example,
l'm not really this good-looking.
Everybody in bars tells stories.
You just got a little carried away.
Right.
l'm afraid l'm the victim
of an overactive imagination.
When you spend 1 2 hours a day
in a room alone writing,
sometimes
you just lose touch with reality.
So l'm awfully sorry and l beg
your pardon and good night.
No. You write?
Yes. Mostly verse. Farewell.
Wait. You write poetry?
l'd love to hear some.
We all would.
- Yes.
- Yeah.
lt's not often we have a guy
in here who can write poetry.
A guy in the men's room, Sam,
writes some terrific stuff.
- Gin and bitters?
- Yes. Thank you.
- Are you published?
- No. l don't even send my stuff in.
- l'm not very good.
- Don't be silly.
Let me be the judge.
l majored in poetry.
- l thought it was philosophy.
- No, it was psychology,
but that was before Literature
and after French.
No, that was after Art History.
- And before Anthropology.
- We're forgetting lndian Studies.
- And Manchurian Folk Dancing.
- Alright.
At any rate, l would love
to see some of your work.
l've don't have anything with me.
lt's all in here... and here.
- l must hear one.
- Really?
Yes.
Alright. l'll try something.
How did it go?
''She l love, alas in vain,
Floats before my slumbering eyes;
And when she comes,
she lulls my pain;
And when she goes,
what pangs arise.''
- My God, that's lovely.
- l liked it. What do you think?
lt'll look great up on the tiles.
Mr Finch, l am awestruck.
- Me, too. Great.
- Please, tell us more.
Maybe not so soon. Give us a chance
to rub down the goose bumps.
This is a night l will never forget.
lt so happens
that l am on speaking terms
with a poetry editor
at The Atlantic Monthly.
He spoke at my college once.
l'll call him and tell him about you.
Wait. Aren't you
getting a little carried away here?
May l have the phone?
Yes, and loving it.
Humouring him's one thing. He can
have all the fantasies he wants here.
But you're going too far
to make him feel good.
Sam, the poem he wrote is excellent.
Scratch a liar, find a poet.
- He memorised one. What's it prove?
- We are now in my area of expertise.
When we want to talk about poetry,
we come to me.
When we want to talk about jock itch,
we come to you.
Yes. May l speak to him?
This is Diane Chambers.
He's chatting with John Updike?
Well, interrupt. No, l'm not kidding.
l have something that makes Updike
seem like small pommes de terre.
- Diane, l wouldn't do this.
- Yes, l'll wait.
Would you leave me alone.
Mr Finch, he really should hear this
directly from you. Come over, please.
What is your best work?
There's a little something
l dashed off this morning.
Wonderful.
Hello, my name is Diane Chambers.
Yes, l know you're busy, but l have
a wonderful surprise for you.
Just listen for a moment.
Verse alert, Cliffy,
strap yourself in, pal.
Dive.
Excuse me, we are about
to make literary history here.
Hello.
''My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in the watered shoot;''
Now, that's a poet.
Thank you.
''My heart is like an apple tree
Whose bough is bent
with thick-set fruit;
''My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles on a halcyon sea;
''My heart is gladder
than all these things
Because my love has come to me.''
The nuns taught us it in school.
l get tears just remembering.
No fooling. Tears?
Yeah.
They whacked us with their beads.
Yes, Rossetti, you're right.
Thank you for settling that bet.
Wonderful. To whom could l speak
about a subscription. l...?
l don't believe this guy.
You cannot believe a word
that comes out of his mouth.
lf you could fix TVs
and crack walnuts on your forehead,
you could be my ex-husband.
Mr Finch, whatever,
l don't know what your real story is,
and the last thing l want
is for you to tell me,
but l wanna thank you
for entertaining us.
- l'm really glad you came.
- Thank you, Sam.
- My real name's Thomas Hilliard lll.
- Well, whatever.
You have a very charming saloon here.
Thank you. l'm glad you like it.
To show you how much,
l'd like to buy it.
How much is it worth to you?
He's not gonna give up.
Wait, let me guess.
You are an eccentric millionaire
who hangs around bars
and tells stories about himself
to have fun with people, right?
Kinda like Howard Hughes,
Mr Hilliard?
Don't mention that name.
He died owing me money.
- Well, Sam, how much?
- Well, gee, this is kinda sudden.
Let's see, l guess, 20, 30 people
come here every night.
- $1 million seems fair to me.
- You've got it.
- Sam, you're forgetting the jukebox.
- He's right. Sorry. $2 million.
l think you're taking advantage
of me, Sam.
Hey, look at me everybody. Scratch
a bartender, find a millionaire.
This is not funny any more.
l was right about him.
He's a sick man
with a very warped sense of humour.
He doesn't care who he hurts.
He's a pathological liar.
Excuse me, Mr Hilliard.
Oh, my... God!
l just wanted to let you know
l'm here with the car.
Thank you, Robert. l'm ready.
l'm sorry
we couldn't do business, Sam.
Million and a half and l'll throw in
a blonde waitress.
Those papers
have arrived from Geneva.
l'll sign them on the plane.
Sam, will you ever be able
to forgive me?
- Come on, l'd never sell this place.
- l got the date.
l've never felt so abused.
l was wrong every step of the way.
l thought he was lying when he was
telling the truth and vice versa.
From now on, l will not believe
anything anybody says.
- You don't mean that. You serious?
- You bet l am.
You know,
l think l'm falling in love with you.
Really?