Desperate Housewives (2004–2012): Season 5, Episode 2 - We're So Happy You're So Happy - full transcript

Desperate Housewives S05E02 We're So Happy You're So Happy (Un bon voisin) (VO&VF+STFR&EN)

Lives change in five years.

Some families grow,

while others grow apart.

So I thought I'd bring him
back sunday around 6:00 or so.

Fine.

And we find ways...

It's not really a good time.

to ease the pain.

Yes, in five years...

Edie, is that really you?



I have a husband now.

Many things change.

You're required to
check in once a month.

It was a condition of your release.

All in all,
Susan Mayer's boyfriend

knew he had a lot going for him.

He was romantic...

had a nice smile...

and was consistently thoughtful.

Yes, Jackson Braddock had
many wonderful attributes.

Sadly...

a sense of timing
wasn't one of them.

Hello.

Can I help you?



I guess you could
tell Susan I'm here.

Who are you?

Oh, I'm Mike...

the ex-husband.

I, uh, I take it you're...

Jackson.

I'm, uh...

Susan's, uh...

- Friend?
- Friend. That's right.

Could this be any more awkward?

Well, your robe's open... so yeah.

Hey, your ex-husband is...

Mike!
Uh, what's going on?

I was just returning M.J.'s video game.

He left it at my house.

Thanks.

So I guess you met Jackson.

Yeah. Nice legs.

Clearly this is not how I would've
wanted the two of you to meet.

He's really a nice guy.

Yeah, well,
just to make sure,

I'm gonna need to hang with him
a little bit, check him out.

Oh, I don't know
if that's necessary.

If he's sleeping in the same
house as my son, I think it is.

Oh, well, first off, um, M.J. was
at a sleepover last night.

And, in fact, Jackson
and he haven't even met,

so, uh, there's really no need for
you to be hanging or...

checking.

Tell Jackson I'll pick him up here
tomorrow night.

Hey, hold on.

You don't get to just decide
these things by yourself.

You remember how nice I was
about our custody agreement?

I can haul you back
to court tomorrow

if I'm not 100% satisfied
with who you expose my son to.

Got it?

Uh, I'm sorry.

It's so not how I wanted to
meet your ex for the first time.

Well, when you meet him for the
second time, you can tell him that.

He's picking you up here tomorrow night.

What?

I'll explain over breakfast.

Did you get the paper?

And that is how
Jackson Braddock

realized he needed
better timing...

Who are you?

And, a longer robe.

If there is one thing everyone
in suburbia can appreciate...

It's a good neighbor.

You know, the kind that helps
with the last bag of groceries...

or brings over misplaced mail...

or offers to mow your lawn.

Yes, everyone appreciates
a good neighbor.

You are so sweet to do this.

I just know how tricky
these bulbs can be.

And no one knew this
better than Dave Williams,

who was determined to be the best
neighbor Wisteria Lane had ever seen...

assuming, of course,
his wife

didn't get in the way.

- What's going on?
- Packing our bags.

Karen McCluskey insulted me again,
and I can't put up with it anymore.

All right, what did she
say to you this time?

Nothing.
It doesn't matter.

We are moving.

Adults don't pack up and move
because of some good-natured teasing.

She said that my breasts were
a triumph of German engineering.

You call that good-natured?

Come on.
She's a cranky old lady.

It's not just her.
It's all of them.

I mean,
it's been five years.

I have changed.

But the people on
this street don't care.

To them,
I will always be a joke.

I'm sorry you had a bad day.

Please don't use your
motivational voice.

- I really hate that.
- You're upset...

and you're tired.

Why don't you take
a nice hot shower,

and I'll make us
some lunch?

Does that sound good?

I just never understood it.

We... we could've gone and
lived in any city in this country.

Why did you insist on living here?

'Cause we can be happy here.

You just need to give it some time.

And I promise,

I'll personally see to it that people
start treating you with a little more respect.

You didn't answer my question.

Didn't I?

Carlos, we got invited to
Michelle Downing's party!

I'm gonna have to buy
something nice to... aah!

Gaby, I'm giving a massage.

I can see that.

I can see a lot of things...
things that can never be unseen.

Sorry.

I guess the towel must've rode up.

Carlos?

Kitchen.

Now.

I know you don't like it
when I work down here,

but he couldn't get up the stairs.
He's got a bum hip.

He's also missing a testicle.

Carlos, how much more of
this am I supposed to take?

Okay, maybe I could
set up my table in the garage.

No! That's only part of the problem.

Have you checked our
bank balance lately?

Gaby, I am not taking
the country club job.

Why not? You'd be
massaging rich people.

They tip better and
they tend to flake less.

Yeah, but I like working here.

I get to spend lots of
time with you and the kids.

Carlos, I don't need to
spend lots of time with you.

And frankly, the kids are on the fence.

Bottom line,
I miss our life.

I miss shopping.

All I have to look forward to is the
occasional invitation to a fancy party.

And I can't even afford
a dress to go to it.

Carlos, please,
I am begging you.

Fine. I'll...
I will take the job.

Thank you.

Sorry.

Ah, no.

Come on. I really don't think
Mike's gonna care what shirt I wear.

Well, I do.

We need a shirt that says,
"I'm a responsible citizen,"

not "my favorite clothing
store also sells bongs."

Are you dissing
my sense of style?

Absolutely.

Put this on.

Now...

let's talk about acceptable
topics of conversation.

- You like sports, right?
- Yeah.

- I'm a huge soccer fan.
- No, you're not.

You like football...
american football.

- Specifically the colts.
- Okay.

And here are some other things
you can talk about : cars,

barbue, fishing.

How about fire?

Mike like talk fire?

Jackson,
please take this seriously.

I am. I'm just... I'm not gonna
pretend to be somebody I'm not.

If he doesn't like me,
wh's he gonna do?

He could take me to court,

and the judge can make me choose
between you and my son.

And I'm sorry. You will lose.

Peyton Manning is the greatest
quarterback who ever lived.

Thank you.

Now go shave.
You look like a hobo.

Got a sec?

Not really.

So I assume you know about
what happened to Jimmy Conrado.

I guess.

Your friend gets busted
for dealing drugs at school,

and all you have
to say is, "I guess"?

He's not my friend.

What are you talking about? You
were on the same little league team.

Yeah, like a million
years ago.

Anything else?

No.

Not really.

Parker. Can I
ask you something...

just between us?

Does Porter hang out
with Jimmy Conrado?

I don't know. I could check out
his friends list on Silverfizz.

His what on what?

It's like myspace.
You have a web page.

It shows your hobbies,
your favorite music,

and you can talk to people.

Really? Can anyone talk to him?

Yeah. He just has to invite you.

And, uh...

how would somebody
make that happen?

Now it's just a mock-up, but this is
what the book is going to look like.

Mom, that's fantastic.
Good call on the font.

Thank you, dear.

Orson, what do you think?

Well, I think it's strange to see
my wife billed as "Mrs. Van De Kamp."

Well, you knew what the
book was gonna be called.

Yes, but it's differen
actually seeing it.

I mean, is it too late
to go with "Mrs. Hodge"?

My company, which I formed
when we were separated,

is called Mrs. Van De Kamp's catering.

It's how I'm known.

Oh, in Fairview.

But this book will be national.

I mean, it's your chance
to rebrand yourself.

Is there something wrong with "Hodge"?

I think I just heard the
milk go bad. I should check.

Orson, I adore you,
but your name...

our name...
it has no music.

"Van De Kamp" trips off the tongue.

"Hodge" sounds like the
noise a plunger makes.

- That's preposterous.
- Listen.

Van De Kamp.

Hodge.

Also, she's got a radio
interview wednesday,

and they're already promoting her
as Mrs. Van De Kamp.

See? The ship has already sailed.

Oh, don't be hurt.
It's my professional name.

In this house, I will
always be Mrs. Hodge.

Now...

would it help if Mrs. Hodge cooked
you your favorite pot roast tonight?

Yes, I guess it would help.

Meeting with your publicist?

Oh, right. Um...
tomorrow for sure, then.

Van De Kamp.

Hodge.

- Here you go.
- Oh, thank you.

Toby, get off my chair.
You know better.

So what's on your mind?

It's Edie.

You said something to her
yesterday that hurt her feelings.

That thing about her breasts?
Come on. That was a joke.

Perhaps.

But it upset her so much that
she suggested we leave Wisteria Lane.

I can't have that, Mrs. M.

Hey, this is what Edie and I do.

We tease each other.

I say she's easier to get
into than community college.

She says my face looks like a knee.

It's fun.

Still...

I would consider it a personal favor
if you'd apologize to her.

You know, make her
feel accepted...

and loved.

No.

No?

If Edie wants to change
the way we talk to each other,

she's gotta ask me personally.

And I think you've got a lot of gall

making me feel like
I did something wrong

when you don't even know me.

I know you,

better than you think.

Oh, really?

For starters, you talk to
your cat like it's a person.

When I knocked on your door,
you immediately invited me in.

Doesn't take a genius to
see that, you're lonely.

I'm thinking you had people
in your life at one time...

people who cared about you.

But something happened to them.

Some probably died.
The rest, well...

they just don't come
around much anymore.

Why do you think that is?

I know you, Mrs. McCluskey.

And it seems to me that
a woman like you

would like to keep
the few friends that she has left.

I think you'd better go.

Thanks for tonight. And, uh,
before I forget, the Colts suck.

Here's what sucks,

watching a zero-zero game
with no cheerleaders, soccer boy.

You guys were insulting each
other. That's good, right?

We had a blast.

Really?

In fact, we're getting together
wednesday night at O'Brien's,

which he claims has the best
bacon potato skins in town.

Potato skins at O'Brien's?
You've made his inner circle!

This is fantastic!
Thank you.

Ah, you can think of a more
creative way to thank me than that.

Nice.

You've never done that before.

Wait. You've never
done that before.

Why are you
doing that now?

I don't know.
Don't you like it?

Yeah. But how did you
know I would like it?

- Oh, my God.
- What?

Mike told you about the
ear thing, didn't he?

No.

So you just happened

to stumble across my secret turn-on

the same night that you
and Mike became B.F.F.S?

But aren't we losing sight
of the fact that you like it?

This is...
I mean, I'm just...

I have been violated.

- Oh, honey, come on...
- Don't touch me!

Or my ears!

- My ears are dead to you.
- It just slipped out.

We were talking about how girls,
they all like different things, right?

And I was talking about
this girl in high school,

how she liked to do it
with her shoes on,

and Mike talked
about the lobe nibble.

He has a name for it?

Okay.
That's it.

You and Mike are not
hanging out anymore.

And this little wednesday "potato
skins and Susan sex tips night"?

I forbid it.

Did Mike mention he likes
having his toes sucked?

Oops, that just slipped out.

Gaby...

Bree! What's up?

Well, um, Michelle Downing
asked me to speak to you.

I don't know if you heard, but
I'm catering her birthday party...

I heard.
I can't wait.

I was gonna ask you. Should I wear
the navy blue chanel or

- the red sleeveless dress?
- You can't come.

Sorry. I just had to
rip the band-aid off.

What?

- She's disinviting me?
- It's not personal.

You know how Carlos
just started at the club?

Well, her guests are
all members, and she thinks

they might find it awkward
socializing with...

staff.

She called us "staff"?

Oh, Gaby, it's just one party.
I'll save you some cake.

No! It's not just one party!

It's the kickoff to
the whole social season.

If people see we're off Michelle's
list, then we'll be off everyone's.

And then it's gonna be the start
of our slow slide from gowns and

galas to flip-flops and keggers!

Okay, if Carlos working at the club is
the problem, then tell her he just quit.

Oh, hon, I don't think that's gonna fly.

He's already rubbed
too many members.

What's happened to my life?

We used to have help.
Now we are the help!

What are you doing?

I am just...

talking to Porter on Silverfizz.

Who is Sara J from
MacArthur high school?

Me.

I'm 16 and cute.

I like graphic novels
and Tokyo police club.

Oh, my God. You're
pretending to be somebody else?

Our brooding son has a classmate
who got arrested for selling drugs.

I really think the end
justifies the means here.

Okay, we'll address your major
ethical breach in a moment.

What did you find out?

Well, the good news is he really
doesn't hang out with Jimmy Conrado.

But I am a little worried
about Anita47,

who told him cherry fruit
pops are an aphrodisiac.

Okay, great, you know who
he hangs around with now.

You got what you came for.
Time to stop.

You're probably right.
It's just...

did you know Porter writes poetry?

- Serious?
- Yeah.

Our Porter, the kid who communicates
with grunts and shrugs, writes this...

beautiful,
heart-wrenching poetry.

Maybe one day he'll share it with
you instead of your fantasy alter ego.

Until then, shut it off.

Okay, okay.

You're right.

You're right.

I luvs me some Walt Whitman!

Emily Dickinson
kicks Walt Whitman's ass!!

Yeah, if you're into
spinster poetry.

oh, really?

Is your girlfriend
into peotry, too?

Don't have one. There's a girl I like.
But we haven't gotten to that yet.

That's sweet.

Girls love romance. Send her a poem.
She won't know what hit her.

Still talking to poetry girl?

Bite me.

Dude, she didn't put up her photo.

5 bucks says she looks
like she came out of an egg.

Whatever.

Toby?

Toby! Where are you?

Toby!

Everything all right, Mrs. M.

It's Toby.
I can't find him.

Oh, no. How did he get out?

The living room window was open,

which is bizarre 'cause
I don't remember opening it.

Can you help me find him?

Have you given any more thought
about apologizing to Edie?

She's still pretty down in the dumps.

I've kind of been busy.

Of course you have. It's just that...

well, since I'm about to
help you find your cat,

it sure would be nice if you
could help me out with Edie.

Doesn't that seem fair to you?

I guess.

Here.

Thank you.

Toby!

Toby! Come here, boy!

Toby!

So they'll finish with the news,
do a quick traffic update,

and then we're on the air.

- Do you need anything?
- No, I'm good.

How do I look?

We're on the radio.

I'm a little bit nervous. This
is my first national interview.

And I am a huge fan of your cookbooks.

Well, I've heard good things about you.

I understand you're catering Michelle
Downing's birthday dinner tonight.

Oh, you know Michelle?

Yes, and I'll be there.

I can't wait to see what you dish up.

Okay, now I'm terrified.

Here we go.

Good afternoon. I'm Linda Flanagan,
and this is "Gourmet Americana."

If you've been to
Fairview's best parties,

then you've probably tasted
the mouthwatering food

dished up by my first guest,
Bree Van De Kamp.

Now she's about
to publish her first book,

"Mrs. Van De Kamp's
old-fashioned cooking."

- Welcome, Bree.
- Hi, Linda.

Tell me.

Why "old-fashioned"?

Well, I think a lot of people
miss the way life used to be...

back when women
had more time to cook.

It's always been important to me to
have the family gather around the table

every night for hot,
lovingly prepared meals.

So you're a traditional
kinda gal.

Is there a Mr. Van De Kamp?

No. Uh,
Mr. Van De Kamp is deceased.

But in regards to my husband,
I should make one thing very clear...

his passing had nothing
to do with my cooking.

Is that my Yeats book?

I love his poetry.

Yeah. I'm borrowing it for school.

This is the kind of poetry
that melts a girl's heart.

So romantic.

Here's a
great one--

"The lover tells of
the rose in his heart."

My first boyfriend gave me
this poem. I was a junior in...

Mom, I'm... I'm running late.
Can I have the book back?

Sorry.

Enjoy!

Katherine, it is not too late
to change tonight's menu.

If Linda Flanagan likes my food,

she might give me
a quote for the book jacket.

I have to knock her socks off, and I
am not betting the farm on Haddock.

Argue with me all you like.
I just bought 40 pounds of pork,

so get your tushie over here.

Orson!

Did you get my message
about Linda Flanagan?

Yes, I heard.

Isn't it amazing?

Almost as amazing as
my on-air death notice.

What?

"So, Bree, do you have a husband?"

"Nope. Used to. He croaked."

She didn't ask if I had a husband.

She asked if there was a Mr. Van
De Kamp, and there's clearly not.

Well, there's a Mr. Hodge.

Would it have killed
you to have mentioned me?

And waste valuable airtime?

The show was about my cookbook,
not about my tortured marital history.

That's not what this is about.

It's because I went to jail, isn't it?

Orson, I have 6 hours to
prepare a meal for 80 people.

We're not having this discussion now.

Just admit it.
You're ashamed of me.

Should I be proud?

Do you want me
to go on the radio and

boast that my husband served
time for running someone over?

I went to jail because you told me it
was the only way you'd take me back.

And because it was
the right thing to do.

I just didn't know then that I
would be a public figure someday.

But I am. I have a name now.

And luckily for you, it's not mine.

Orson, please don't be hurt.

I am under so much pressure
and so terrified I'll fail

that I don't even know what
I'm saying half the time.

Just let me get through this.

As soon as the plates go out tonight,

I will come home and cook you
that pot roast I promised. Okay?

Okay.

It's just
that... I--

Chives!

How could I forget chives?

Hey, Susan, it's me.

Listen, I'm not gonna be
able to make dinner tonight.

My college roommate's in town, and this
is the only night we can get together.

Is his name Mike Delfino?

Did you room together
at liars' college?

I know it's last-minute, and I'm really
sorry, but I still wanna see you.

So how about I drop by later?

Call me if that's a problem.

Yeah, you'll drop by later...

with potato skins on your
breath, you miserable two-timer!

What's wrong, mom?

Nothing.

Just, the answering
machine lied to mommy.

I finally found a poem as beautiful
as you. You're all I think about

"The Lover Tells Of The Rose In
His Heart" by William Butler Yeats

Oh, crap on things.

Crap on what things?

Porter sent me a sex poem.

What?

Why?

He may be in love with me.

Why would he be in love with you?

Okay...

remember how you told me I
should stop talking to him online?

Well, of course, I didn't, and I sort
of told him I liked his poetry.

You told a teenage boy
that you liked his poetry?

Jeez, Lynette! Why not
just flash him a boob?

He'll hear you.

So what are you gonna do?
Are you gonna tell him the truth now,

or are you gonna wait until after
he kills me and blinds himself?

Calm down.

I'm gonna break it off in an e-mail.

Oh, great.
Just like that?

That'll kill him.

I know that you have only been the
receiving end of break-up letters,

but I've actually written a few,and
I know how to let him down easy.

"Dear Porter, I really like you,
but I wanna see other offspring."

Go away.

You know, I'm kinda surprised we still
made Michelle's list this year,

what with me
working at the club.

Oh, don't be silly, Carlos.

We're still on everyone's list.

- Now let's go.
- Okay.

Gaby, are we in the banquet hall?

What's all the noise?

Oh, it's just the caterers putting
glasses and silverware on the tables.

They make some racket, huh?

But the decorations are stunning.

Especially that waterfall effect.

Gaby?

Bree!

Shouldn't you be in the kitchen?

Don't move, honey.
The press is taking your photo.

What are you doing here?

You were disinvited.

I got it all figured out.
We duck inside,

make sure we're seen by all the
right people, except Mrs. Downing,

and then after about
20 minutes, we cut out.

Well, I know nothing.
Just keep me out of it.

What is Carlos doing?

Where is he?

Where is who?

Like you don't
know... Jackson.

Well, he's not here.

Really?

Whose is this?

I... I don't know.
Some guy's.

"I...I don't know"?

Well, I hope that "some guy",
doesn't mind this.

No, Susan, really, I wouldn't...

Lady, what are you doing to my beer?

We're not married anymore, so
I don't have to protect you.

I am...

so sorry.

Miss?

Could you just...

please take
good care of my friend?

Jackson canceled on me.

He said you weren't
comfortable with us hanging out.

He said that?

And I think I said, "meow."

I am such a jackass.

So why don't you want us hanging out?

Well, I was pretty ticked off that
you told Jackson about the ear thing.

Oh, God. The second I said
that, I wished I hadn't.

I'm really sorry.

Apology accepted.

So if I promise to
behave, can we still hang out?

'Cause I really think
it'd be good for M.J.

Just seeing that we're all friends.

I don't...

What?

I'm just not comfortable with you
and Jackson getting that close.

Okay.

It's just...

I don't want him to see
me through your eyes.

How exactly do you think I see you?

Well, those last few months
we were together, I...

the things I said to
you, the way I acted...

I mean, I'm not proud
of the person I became.

That was a bad time, Susan.

We're not those people anymore.

And if you could see yourself
through my eyes,

you'd know you got
nothing to worry about.

Could you please take care of this guy?

He's my friend, too.

Boy, am I glad to see you.

Where you been?

Out, doing some thinking.

And I've decided that I may have gone
a little overboard

about you and Mike.

In fact, I think it's cool
if you wanna hang out with my ex.

Hey, Susie Q.

Just shakin' the dew off the lily.

And speaking of,
that paint job in the guest can is nice.

Kudos.

What are you doing here?

Well, Julie needed me to cosign
some insurance stuff for her,

and I guess I lost track of time
talking to crunchy granola here.

Plumber to housepainter
in one move, Susie?

Don't get dizzy climbin'
that social ladder.

- Can you leave, please?
- Just think...

If I'd been a roofer,
we might still be together.

- Sigh.
- Get out.

See ya around, hacky sack.

So...

Any more exes I should know about?

Don't you just love Michelle's parties?

They are fun.

But I enjoy my intimate lunches
with Michelle even more.

We have intimate lunches.
We're friends.

You simply must come to the charity
auction at Ted's gallery next weekend.

Really?
We'd love to.

Well, it's the caterer!

Everything is fabulous.

But would you be a dear
and get me some more wine?

I would be happy to.

I just want to make sure
it's the kind you like.

You're still here?

Dinner is about to be served.
Whose seats are you in?

The Bowmans. I found out
Mrs. Bowman is home with the flu.

Score!

Oh, will you unclench?
It'll be fine.

These are my seats.
This is my mother.

That was Mr. Bowman, wasn't it?

Yes, and I'm pretty sure that elderly
woman with him was his mother!

What kind of man leaves his sick wife
at home to go party with mommy?

You can fix this.

Tell them you're at the wrong table
and slip out the side door.

Yes, sir, he has absolutely no...

- Was it the maître d'?
- He's checking the guest list.

Which we're not on.

You can fix this. Explain you're going
to a different party here at the club

and that you got confused.

Mrs. Downing never has to know.

You need to leave!
Out.

That's Mrs. Downing.
How am I gonna fix this?

At this point, I would just run off
screaming into the night.

Thank you.

Get your hands off me.

Poor blind bastard.

I'll meet him outside.

- What?
- Hi, Edie.

I just wanted to say I feel awful
about what I said to you.

You know, that crack
I made the other day?

Okay.

That's nice of you.

Are you all right?

Actually, no.
My cat's missing.

Toby?
Since when?

It's been two days,
and he's never been out this long.

I'm so sorry.

I'm sure he's fine.

Yeah. Well...

Could you tell Dave...
Tell him I apologized?

And you and I are good, huh?

I guess I could.

- Why do you want him...
- Just tell him, please.

I cannot believe
you pulled a stunt like that.

What? I was just trying to salvage
what's left of our social life.

Now just let it go and start thinking
about where we're gonna move.

This is not a joke, Gaby.

I work with these people.
I have to show my face tomorrow.

- It's humiliating.
- You wanna know what's humiliating?

Waking up one day
and finding out you're invisible.

Now it's official.
I've lost everything.

Everything?

First our money, then my figure,

now the last shreds
of our social standing.

We haven't lost a thing
except the chance

to hobnob with a bunch
of unhappy snobs.

What do you mean, they're unhappy?

They're rich!
They have jewels and cooks.

They use "winter" as a verb.

I rub them, Gaby,

and there is nothing that
a blind masseur doesn't hear about.

Trust me.

They are every bit as miserable as I was
when I was out there chasing that stuff.

We have lost nothing that matters.

We have a home, we have each other,
we have work that supports us,

and we have
two beautiful little girls that...

love us more than ice cream.

I've never been happier in my life.

Are you serious?

Yes, and the only thing
that would make me happier

is for you to realize
how good we've got it.

"I have never talked
to such a wonderful guy,

"but I should've told you
I'm already seeing somebody..."

"Continue to trust your heart,
and your dreams will follow."

Best dear John letter ever.

Thanks.

Except you might wanna change that
part where you signed it "Love, Mom."

What?
No I didn't.

Yeah, you did...

Right there.

You sent it?

Oh, my God!

- Why didn't you say something?
- I did!

You said it was great.
Way to bury the lead, Tom!

Tom, don't you dare!

One of us needs to live
to take care of the other one.

God.

Mind if I join you?

Okay, I know what I did...

was unforgivable.

And I am not trying
to make excuses, but...

We used to talk all the time,

and then one day it just stopped,
and it killed me.

I felt like I lost you.

And then I was SaraJ,
and I had you back,

and we were talking again,
and you were telling me things.

I wasn't telling you anything.

I was telling her.

Okay.

Well, for what it's worth,

I loved our conversations, and I'm...

going to miss them.

Me, too.

Orson, you're still up.

I wish you could've been there.

Linda Flanagan loved my food.

She said I was
"God's gift to the table"

and that I could quote her
on the book jacket.

Are you all right?

I'm hungry.

It's after midnight.
Haven't you eaten?

I was waiting for you.

You said you'd make me pot roast.

I am so sorry.
I lost all track of time,

and Linda had so many questions
about the food.

I'll make you
that pot roast tomorrow, okay?

I want it now.

Now?

You promised.

Orson, I've been cooking all day.

I'm so tired, I can barely stand up.

You really want me to make you
a pot roast now?

You promised.

Toby!

Where in the world
did you come from, huh?

Yes, everyone appreciates
a good neighbor...

You know, the kind that helps you
with the groceries...

but doesn't ask,
"Why is your son so moody?"

The type that delivers misplaced mail...

but doesn't point out
your wife seems discontented...

The sort that offers to mow your lawn...

but doesn't mention
your husband seems cold.

But if you're not sure
the man next door

is as nice
as he would have you believe...

Now why would you bring me flowers?

'Cause you've got a computer,

and I need to find out some stuff
about Edie's husband.

Do everything you can
to get to know him better.