Everybody Loves Raymond (1996–2005): Season 5, Episode 14 - Ray's Journal - full transcript

Chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo!
Chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo!

Chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo!
Chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo!

Ally! Ally, stop
dragging Geoffrey!

We don't play like that.

Relax, Ma. That's how Debra
took me down the aisle.

Raymond,
aren't you concerned?

Girls shouldn't be dragging
boys around like that.

They were just playing,
Marie. It's okay.

That's right.
We're feminists.

Really, Raymond,
I would think you of all people

wouldn't want
your daughter to bully boys.



What are you
talking about?

Seventh grade, Tammy Gellis
gave you that black eye.

Oh my God.

I forgot
all about that.

Agirl beatyou up?

Agirl named Tammy?

Tammy socked him and then
took away his RC Cola.

Oh.

He was so scared to go back to school,
he didn't even want to ride the bus.

- Okay, Ma, all right.
- Oh, poor Raymond.

Oh, that Tammy sounds
like a mean little girl.

For your information,
she wasn't so little, okay?

Her nickname was Tank.

Yeah, right.



She sued the town
to play football.

I don't get it.
How did my mom know about that?

I never told anyone
about Tammy Gellis.

Only way my mom could
have found out about it

is if she read
my journal or something.

You kept a diary?

Oh my gosh.
I didn't know that.

That is so sweet.

It wasn't a diary.
It was a journal.

Oh, sorry.

Dear diary,

another girl
beat me up today.

Oh, yeah, it's all
just all a barrel

- of giggles to you, right?
- Aw.

Come on, you think my mom
really did read my journal?

Oh, honey,
what's so surprising?

She would ride a Q-tip
into your brain if she could.

I know, but even if
she did read it,

how'd she crack
the code?

You had a code?
What was the code?

It was a code
I invented.

Okay, say something
to me in your code.

Y-oka.

- What?
- I'm answering you in the code.

Y-oka.

Okay, one more.

Y-oka, my e-wif.

"My wife"?
"Okay, my wife."

So you just took
the last letter

of the word
and put it in front.

Maybe.

Wow, how uncrackable.

- It's a good code.
- No no, it is.

It's not at all e-lam.

It's not lame.

Sorry.
That's okay.

Good night,
my little ass-jack.

That's...

That's not even how
you do it, okay?

It's not the whole word.
It's just the letter.

It's s-jacka.

Oh, good morning, dear.

Hello.

Would you like
some pancakes?

Sure, why not?

You have any n-baco?

Any what, dear?

Some n-baco

to go with my s-pancake.

Why are you talking
gibberish?

Is it gibberish?

Well, I certainly
don't understand it.

Really?
'Cause I think that you do.

N-baco.

What are you doing?

What do you think
I'm doing? N-baco.

Is that Spanish
for something?

So you admit that
it's another language.

Well, it sounds
like "bacon."

- You read my journal.
- What? What-- what journal?

Oh, "what journal?"
The journal that I kept as a kid.

How else would you know
about n-baco and Tammy Gellis?

What? What are you
talking about?

Are you saying that
you never read my journal?

- I didn't even know you had a journal.
- Yes, you did,

- and you read every word of it!
- I never read your journal!

- Dad, did Mom ever read my journal?
- I read your journal!

Ah-ha-ha-ha!

- What journal?
- What do you mean, "What journal?"

His journal
with the dungaree cover.

I don't know what
you're talking about.

Where are my pancakes?

His journal, Frank.

We used to sit up at night and
read it after Johnny Carson.

I confessed for nothing.

You read it to him?

He couldn't figure out
the code.

Oh, yeah!

Your little girlie book.

There was some
funny stuff in there.

All right.

Like sleeping with the belt
around your head

to make
your nose smaller.

How could you
do that, Ma? Huh?

How could you go
into my journal?

I wanted to know
what was in there.

It was private! There was stuff in there
I didn't want anyone to know about!

Like when he glued
bottle caps to his socks

because he wanted
to be a tap dancer?

Shut up, Dad.

Oh, don't be angry, dear.

- I read it for your own good.
- Yeah yeah, sure you did.

For your information, I just wanted
to know that you were okay.

That you weren't on drugs.

You know dancers, always trying
to keep their weight down.

Shh, Frank. I mean,
how else was I supposed to know

what was happening
in your life?

Why couldn't you be like
a normal parent and ask me?

I did ask you.
Did you ever answer me?

Exactly.

That's what you said
about everything.

"How was school today?"

"Did you finish lunch?"

"What about the other boys?
Did they like your outfit today?"

You didn't leave me
much choice.

So you're perfectly
fine with this?

You don't think
you've done anything wrong?

I was just trying
to be a good mother.

I mean, if you can't see that,
and I see that you can't--

I mean obviously you feel
that I stepped over

some boundaries.

Then I want
to apologize, Raymond.

No, really, I mean it.

I'm sorry, Raymond.

All right, then.

So, are there pancakes?

That's it? You don't have
anything to say to me?

What? What do you mean?

I just apologized
for doing something

that apparently
offended you,

and you have nothing
to say to me?

Thank you.

"Thank you"?
I see.

So you think that
you're innocent in all of this?

Yeah.

Fine.

It's just fine, Raymond.

But let me tell you something,
you may have written that diary,

but I had to read it!

Hey, Robert.

- You busy?
- Kinda. What do you want?

Ready for this?

What, do you got
a cat now?

I was just
at your mother's house.

Anything she's ever done
to you, I can top it.

Left me at a gas station
in Arizona?

She came back.

Conceived me
out of wedlock?

Oh, yeah yeah, you're a big victim.
Listen to this.

25 years ago,
I kept a journal.

She used to read it
every day.

The dungaree one.

Did you read it?

Yeah, Raymond,
I read your diary.

I wasn't getting
enough of you.

Yeah, well, she read it.
She read the whole thing.

And now for some reason,
she's mad at me.

- Well, what was in it?
- It doesn't matter what was in it!

God, everybody's missing
the point here!

That was my private journal.
Those were my private thoughts, okay?

Doesn't matter
if I wrote--

oh my God.

- What?
- Oh. Oh, no.

Oh, no!

What?

I'm just remembering
the stuff I used to write in it.

Go ahead.

You know, like I had
a grown-up dream once

of my homeroom teacher
Mrs. Hustwick.

Oh, I remember her--
Lusty Husty.

So Ma read that.
It's not a big deal.

And then I had
the chart.

What do you mean?

Chart for what?

For awhile,
I used to...

measure things.

Ma read that, huh?
That is pretty bad.

Hey, what? You kept a diary.
She probably read yours too.

- I hope she did.
- What do you mean?

I was hip to Ma.
I had two diaries.

The one for her
was a decoy.

You kept two sets
of books?

Yeah, the one
I let her find

had stuff in it that
I knew she'd want to read,

Iike, um...

how good her eggplant
parmigiana was

and how her punishments

were fair and just

and about how I wanted
to marry someone just like her.

A fake diary.

- You kept a fake diary. That's sick.
- Yep,

and I kept it in the first
place I'd knew she'd look,

- under my mattress.
- That's where I kept mine.

Unfortunately.

Well, where'd you keep
the real one?

Safety deposit box
at First National.

What?

How'd you get a safety deposit box?
You were a kid.

I was tall.

What did you put
in that one?

Well, certainly nothing I'd have
to write with my pants down.

Yeah, if your pants
were down,

the only thing you could write is,
"Hey, where's everybody going?"

- What?
- I don't know!

Freak.

Hi, Ma.

Hello, Raymond.

Listen, Ma,
about the journal...

I want to apologize
for what...

you saw in there.

Um...

could you not look
at me while I say this?

All right.

Um...

you know, when you're 14,
the world is a very confusing...

and sexy place.

- Ma, come on.
- Oh.

So I just want you
to know

that I outgrew
all that stuff, okay?

And I don't do that stuff
anymore, hardly.

So I'm sorry that you had to see that,
and I just want you to know

that I'm not still some kind
of weirdo, all right?

So I'm gonna
go take a shower

- and maybe you want to do the same.
- Raymond.

Raymond, do you think
I'm a prude?

What?

Do you think all that stuff
is why I'm upset,

what you did
as a teenager?

I don't care
about your happy dreams.

All right, Ma.

- Or where you have your little hair.
- Ma, stop it!

Or how you went into my sewing kit
for my measuring tape.

Oh, God!

- Raymond.
- Oh oh!

Oh, come on,
grow up.

That's not what I'm upset about.
I mean, give me a little credit.

- Please stop talking!
- No, I will not.

As if you've forgotten
October 9th, 1974.

I have to forget
everything now.

Did you forget what you wrote
on October 9th?

I don't know!

What? You still
have that? Gimme it!

- No no no. No.
- No, gimme it, gimme it, Ma!

"October 9th, 1974."

A single entry
on this particular day.

"Not much to report,
except...

I e-hat my Mom."

That's it?

There's nothing else
on the page.

No reason for it before or after.
Just here between

"l dropped a pencil to look
up Mrs. Hustwick's dress,"

and "Today Mrs. Hustwick caught me
doing the pencil thing."

Just this sentence.

No exclamation point after,

Iike you were having
some sort of a tantrum.

It's just written
like a fact.

"l e-hat my Mom."

Well, so what, Ma?
That doesn't mean anything.

Then why did you write it?
Was it something I did?

I don't know. It was probably
nothing that you did.

Oh, so it's
what I thought.

You just generally
hated me.

What are you talking about?
I was a kid.

Every kid
probably wrote that.

Robby didn't. You want to know
what he wrote on the same day?

Oh, no.

No.

No, Ma.

"Terrific
chicken tonight."

- That's a fake book, Ma! No, that's a decoy.
- What?

The real one's in a safe
deposit box at First National!

- You know how crazy you sound.
- It's true!

We're not talking
about your brother.

I need to know
why you wrote that.

I don't know, Ma!

- Do you know when this feeling began?
- No. No.

- Do you know when this feeling ended?
- No.

I see.

Oh, come on, Ma.

What?
I don't hate you.

I never hated you.

I don't know
why I wrote that.

I'm sorry.

Okay, I'm sorry.

That was a terrible
thing to write.

I was wrong
to ever write that.

You know, I didn't really wanna
be a tap dancer, either.

- Okay, are we okay now?
- Yes.

Oh oh, I guess we are.

Okay.

Hey, Ray, it's 5:00.
You were gonna pick up the kids.

Oh, all right.

- Everything all right?
- Yeah, everything's fine.

I apologized.
Everything's fine.

Wait a minute.

Did you say that
you apologized?

He's a good boy.

Wait, he apologized to you

for you reading
his journal?

No, no,
that would be stupid.

I apologized because I wrote
"l e-hat my Mom" in there.

Who cares
what you wrote?

That was 25 years ago.

Yeah, but, you know...

- Do you know how sick that sounds?
- Debra.

- You don't understand.
- No no, you know what?

The problem is
I do understand.

I mean, when is this
gonna stop?

How could you make him apologize
for something that you did wrong?

Excuse me?

How could you make
your son apologize

for private thoughts
he had 25 years ago?

I mean, don't you see
how wrong that is?

P-shut u.

I just want
to ask you something.

Do you ever have any doubts about
how good a mother you are?

- Yes, of course--
- No no, I mean severe doubts.

Have you any idea what it's like
to be married to a husband

who never
helps you at all?

Go ahead.

And when you go
to him for support,

he only enhances
those doubts?

That was my life.

Imagine little Michael,

who loves you, who lights up
whenever you get near him.

Imagine him at 14,

and he doesn't talk
to you anymore.

And you don't want
to push him,

so you just give him
more love.

And then one night you make him
his favorite dinner,

and you try to give him
a kiss good night,

and he goes up
the stairs with a grunt.

And you come across
his journal,

and you open it,

and it says,
"l hate my Mom."

I wouldn't wish
that on you, Debra.

- Ray.
- What?

Apologize
to your mother.

I-- I already did.

Do it again!

No no, look,
that's all right, dear.

That was 25 years ago.

But there is one thing
I would like.

Could you cross
that out, dear, please?

Okay.

And what would you like
to write there?

"l...

e-lov...

- my Mom."
- Oh, that's so nice.

And could you
date it there?

Okay, and initial it there.

And here.

Hey, what are you doing?

Just a little
light reading.

What? Could people not read
my journal? Gimme it.

No, come on,
some of this is cute.

Listen.

"Today I kissed Shelly
for the first time."

Shelly was a turtle.