Fantasy Island (1977–1984): Season 1, Episode 11 - Trouble, My Lovely/The Common Man - full transcript

The plane! The plane!

- Uh, Tattoo...
- Wait.

You are going to say,

"Tattoo, what a
beautiful day." Right?

- What?
- Don't worry.

- I just read your mind.
- Indeed.

Well, I was hoping there was a
reason for your new headdress.

How to Read Minds is
a new book I just read.

- "The secret of psychic power
unleashed."
- Ah.

That's how I knew
you were gonna say,

"Tattoo, is that
a beautiful day?"



Well, it is a beautiful day, Tattoo, but
I'm afraid what I was going to say was, uh,

you have your bath
towel on crooked.

Uh, Tattoo, excuse me.

Smiles, everyone. Smiles.

Are we lowering
our standards, boss?

That inauspicious gentleman,
Tattoo, is Mr. Stanley Scheckter,

a San Francisco-based
process server.

His is a life filled with
seedy hotel rooms,

wayward husbands and
deadbeats of all sizes and shapes.

- Another freebie?
- No, Tattoo.

His ambition has always been
to become a private investigator...

Another Sam Spade,
Philip Marlowe, Lew Archer.

His fantasy is to
solve a big case,

one worthy of his talents.



In that case, I'm afraid that

Mr. Scheckter's client
is in serious trouble.

When do we eat?

Oh, Mumsy. Your allergies.

Might have known
they'd have flowers here.

I'm hungry. A family like
that is a fantasy in itself.

- What do they want?
- Most of the family just thinks
they're here on vacation.

But it's actually Mr. Stouton's
fantasy, and he's asked for two things.

First, a modicum
of peace and quiet.

I can believe that,
but what's the second?

Something he feels he's never
had from his family... a little respect.

Respect? Can we give him that?

Very easily,
Tattoo. In fact, it was

Mr. Stouton himself who
provided the schedule.

Schedule? For a weekend
of events for his family...

filled with elegance
and good taste.

A weekend wherein Mr. Stouton...

will receive full and
proper credit for everything.

So they can see him in a new
light, and they will respect him.

That's what he hopes for,
Tattoo. That's what he hopes for.

My dear guests, I am
Mr. Roarke, your host.

Welcome to Fantasy Island.

Why don't you have something
to eat, Mumsy? I'm not hungry.

I don't want to eat. I just
wanna get to my room.

Excuse me just a
second. I'll be right back.

Mr. Roarke. Mr. Stouton.

I'm really very excited
about all this. I'm so glad.

You really will be able
to give me what I wanted?

We shall certainly
try, hey, Tattoo?

Mr. Stouton, everything has been
arranged just like you asked for.

The accommodations...

The birthday celebration for
your wonderful mother-in-law...

and the dinner tonight.

And every detail
just like you wanted it.

- We'll have the royal cottage,
won't we?
- But of course.

Uh, well, I'm afraid
something has come up.

We won't be getting
the royal cottage?

One of those
ridiculous little mix-ups.

But I assure you, no harm done.

You'll like the bungalow
we have selected for you.

Bungalow? No, but I went over all
that with you, and I was quite specific.

I wanted the royal cottage.

I'm sorry, Mr. Stouton. The
mix-up was unavoidable.

Well, if it was unavoidable.

Aki. Aki.

Will you show the Stoutons
to their bungalow, please?

I'll have your food sent to
you, hmm? This way, please.

Honey, it was unavoidable.
What could I do?

With him, everything
is unavoidable.

♪♪

Oh. Mr. Roarke. Mr. Scheckter,
I hope you're enjoying yourself.

Yeah, I am, but I
was just wondering,

when do we get
started, Mr. Roarke?

Um, you are aware,
Mr. Scheckter,

of the very real
dangers involved...

in your particular
fantasy, are you not?

Dangers? What dangers?

Mr. Scheckter, a
private investigator...

A good one...

Places his life on the
line with each case.

His life,
Mr. Scheckter... Literally.

You do understand this?

Oh, sure I understand it.

Well, I came here
to do it, so let's do it.

You shall, Mr. Scheckter.

Very soon.

Uh, give me a
refill on that, will ya?

In fact... make it a double.

Yes, Arthur, you do that.

You tell my husband, and
then you tell him about Peggy.

Iris, you're going to
be sensible about this.

I'm tired of being
sensible, Arthur.

Now let go of me and tell your
protégé to stay out of my way.

- Iris, you're going
to hear me out.
- Hey, folks.

- Fella, you stay out of it.
- I don't mean to interfere,
but...

Good. Let's keep it that way.

Iris, sit down.

I don't think the lady
wants your company.

So why don't you just, uh,

take off, okay?

Uh!

Oh, dear. Oh.

My car's just outside.

That's his gunsel.
I'll take care of him.

Come on.

Her name was
Iris. Iris Chandler.

Spelled C-L-A-S-S...
capital "C" and underlined.

She needed a private eye,
and, of course, I was available.

When she looked at you, it
was like a 30,000-volt charge,

with a message in those deep, blue
eyes that would melt a telegraph key.

They're charging
him an arm and a leg,

and he lets them
walk all over him.

I suppose we should feel grateful
we've even got a roof over our heads.

It's really quite a
place. It's not bad.

I knew I shouldn't have
come. Florence, I told you.

It's light, spacious, airy.

Spacious? The bedroom's
on the wrong side.

The living room's
on the wrong side.

Typical tropical island,

and not one lousy
tangerine in the basket.

You didn't have any
trouble with the oranges.

You don't have
to pick on Arnold.

If that's what I think it is
growing outside my window...

Florence, he knows I'm allergic.

Hey, look, we're here.
That's the main thing.

Let's enjoy it, okay?

You would too, Fred Stouton.
Your own family stacked up in here...

like it was Labor Day
weekend at Rockaway Beach,

and you want to enjoy it.

I like your taste in houses.

Peggy... my stepdaughter.

I like your taste in
stepdaughters too.

Yes, she is
attractive, isn't she?

Very nice. Thank you.

You, uh, need a detective
because of that guy in the bar?

Arthur? Arthur Hemmings. Yes.

He owns what used to
be called a roadhouse...

A small nightclub,
a cocktail lounge.

Don't tell me. Don't tell me.

There's a casino in the back.

Why, yes. Casino,
horse parlor...

Anything else he can
make a dollar from.

How much are you into him for?

It's my daughter who's
into him, sir. Not my wife.

Darling.

I presume this is the detective
you said you were going to engage.

Mr. Scheckter, my
husband... Theodore Chandler.

How do you do? How do you do?

You told him about
Peg's I.O.U.'s?

So far, she's signed
$50,000 in I.O.U.'s.

Well, why don't
you just pay 'em off?

Arthur won't let us
just pay them off.

- Can I get you a drink,
Mr. Scheckter?
- Never when I'm on a case.

Those markers are Arthur Hemmings's
entrée into the Chandler fortune.

Otherwise, the
police will be informed.

Peggy will be
prosecuted, jailed.

Excuse me, Mrs. Chandler, but, uh,
gambling debts cannot be legally collected.

Bad checks can
be, Mr. Scheckter.

Ah.

She paid the markers by
check, and the checks bounced.

Unless she has the
markers, she can't prove

the checks were written
for gambling debts.

My daughter may be wild and uncontrollable,
Mr. Scheckter, but she's my daughter.

And the thought
of her in prison...

You want the markers.

I want her out of the
clutches of that monster.

You've come to the
right man, Mr. Chandler.

And your son, what does he do?

Oh, Arnold is going to
private school. That's nice.

He flunked out of every
regular school we put him in.

He's young. What did you
want to do when you were 12?

I'm not sure I was
ever allowed to be 12.

Oh, Mr. Roarke. Mr. Stouton.

- I trust you're
comfortable and happy.
- I suppose so, considering.

I was beginning
to wonder, though,

about the peace and quiet I
was expecting... and the respect.

Oh, give it time,
Mr. Stouton. You just got here.

Well, I'd better
be getting back.

Mr. Stouton had a
very good question,

and you did not even
have a good answer.

No peace, no respect. Not even
a tangerine in his fruit basket.

Too much attention to
picky little details, Tattoo,

is the mark of a small man.

But I am a small man.

Arthur's club is on
the other side of town.

You know, Mrs. Chandler, there's
more to this than you're telling me.

What do you mean?

I mean the part about your
relationship with Arthur Hemmings...

that your husband doesn't know.

I have to know what
I'm getting into here.

I went to Arthur to talk to
him about Peggy's debt.

Sure.

My husband is dead
from the waist down.

Arthur Hemmings is
a man... A whole man.

He's strong and beautiful.

Mr. Scheckter, you're blushing.

Me? No, you kiddin'?

No, it's just...

Something I ate. I think I'm
chokin' on one of them walnuts.

Don't you understand?
I was weak.

I am weak. I need your help.

I, uh... I'll help you.

No wonder Sam Spade's
suits were always rumpled.

Uh, Mr... Mr. Roarke?

Mr. Stouton. Please forgive me.

I was... Sit down.
Sit down. Thank you.

May we offer you something
to drink? No, no. Thank you.

All right. Um, I've been
giving a lot of thought...

to that dear, gracious
lady... Your mother-in-law.

- You mean about the birthday?
- You wanted a party.

But I thought we ought to do something
different to celebrate the occasion.

Well, that depends. Mumsy doesn't
always like things to be different.

I'd be willing to bet one kind of
birthday party she's never had...

This time of year in New
Jersey, you know... is a picnic.

Oh, for heaven's
sake. She loves picnics.

There, you see?

Then we must prepare a
very special picnic for her.

Um, what else does,
uh, dear Mumsy like?

Well, she's very sentimental.
She likes old-fashioned things...

Mushy songs, Irish
tenors, pickled eggs.

Good, good. Let's see if we can
work out something really nice...

Old-fashioned, sentimental.

Speaking about old-fashioneds,
she's not much of a drinker,

but there's a certain
kind of punch she likes...

with a bit of a... A
stick in it, you know?

You're really quite fond
of the old lady, aren't you?

No, but my wife is,

and I'm very fond of my wife.

♪♪

Iris Chandler painted
a pretty fair picture...

of Arthur Hemmings's club.

It looked like one of those second-rate
roadhouse joints you find back East.

Oh, come on,
Fitzy. Hey. Come on.

I'm just fine. You've
had too much to drink.

I'm gonna take you home. I
can drive myself home, Fitz.

Peggy, give me the keys. No.

Peggy. Peggy, come on. You're
in no condition. I'm not drunk, Fitz.

Peggy, please. Arthur
told me to drive you home.

- He's worried about you.
- Of course he is. He's in love with me.

Bye-bye, Fitzy.

For a girl who's supposed to be
being blackmailed by Arthur Hemmings,

she certainly spoke well of him.

Going inside, Mr. Scheckter?

Oh. Mr. Roarke. I
didn't hear you come up.

If you're gonna go inside,
you'd better be packing a gat.

Huh? A piece.

A rod. You know, a roscoe.

A .38 special.

That's what Bogart
used to carry.

I'm afraid the danger my friend
portrays is quite real, Mr. Scheckter.

That's why we've come. The
situation you're involved in...

has gone beyond the
point I first, uh, anticipated...

Beyond the point where
I can control your safety.

Rest assured, we are prepared
to refund the price of your fantasy,

in full, of course.

It-It's really that dangerous?

If I'm gonna give back
money, it's got to be dangerous.

But this is my big case,

the one I've dreamed
about all my life.

Mr. Scheckter, it could very well
be the case that ends your life.

Well, if it is, then I will
have gone out in style.

I'm staying, Mr. Roarke.

So be it, but remember,
from this point on,

there is nothing I can
do to help you... nothing.

You are totally on your own.

I understand, and I'm ready.

I think I've just about got
this baby wrapped up anyway.

Go on, go on. Get outta here.

Something wrong, Tattoo?

Yeah. I was
beginning to like him.

♪♪

Have you seen Arthur?
Try the office, honey.

Arthur?

Arthur.

Oh, my gosh.

Arthur Hemmings. He's dead.

"Mortimer Foxxe.

$17,000"?

It was 4:00 a.m.,
and I knew now...

why Mr. Roarke had
tried to warn me last night.

The big, hard-looking cop was
Fallon... Sergeant Gus Fallon.

They weren't buying my story
about somebody sapping me,

but I wasn't gonna tell them about the
marker I found signed by Mortimer Foxxe.

Come on, Lieutenant. What reason
would I have to kill Arthur Hemmings?

I never even saw the
man before yesterday.

Who says a hired killer has
to be friends with his target?

Draper, you keep this jackass away
from me, or I will kill somebody... him!

All right, all right, all right.

Look, Stanley, I'm sorry, but
we're gonna have to take you in.

Okay, Lieutenant. I'll come
downtown and talk it over...

Everything except who hired me.

Now, that's confidential.

Are those really necessary?
Put 'em away, Gus, huh?

Come on. Come on.

You didn't see anybody
when you went into the office?

If I saw him, you think
I'd have let him hit me?

Maybe he followed you in. No. I'd have
heard the tongue of the door lock click...

if anybody opened it.

Give me your gun.
Sorry, Lieutenant,

but I got a personal
stake in this now.

I find anything, you're
the first cop I call.

1-Alpha-7. We got a fugitive.

Male Caucasian,
145 pounds, short.

♪♪

Oh, Fred, this
is just wonderful.

You even remembered to have
them put a stick in Mumsy's punch.

I've never had a picnic
on my birthday before.

You see? Everything's
gonna be fine.

Ooh, look. Pickled eggs.

My sister Thelma always
had a picnic for her birthday.

Nobody ever does
anything nice for me.

Monsieur, you have
created a magnificent outing.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

A little more punch, Mumsy?

Yeah, kiddo. And this
time, fill it up, will ya?

Here you go, Mumsy.
Well, that's more like it.

Uh-oh. I bet they forgot
to fix Mumsy's punch.

Go away. Go away.

Oh! Isn't it wonderful?

Yeah, I guess so.

Not what I'd call
entertainment though.

All right, all right.

Having difficulty, Tattoo?

No trouble. No trouble.

They tell me
Chester is very good.

He beats almost everyone.

It does not make any difference.

With my finely
tuned psychic power,

I know every move
before he makes them.

Ah, I see.

And besides, he's only a monkey.

- Don't you hate a bad winner?
- Mm-hmm.

♪♪

Happy birthday.

I've never seen
her so happy before.

I've never seen
her so drunk before.

Okay, Mumsy, here we go.

Come on, old girl.
Now, first, make a wish.

♪♪

What's that? It's chocolate.

♪♪

Well, things are pickin' up.

Tallyho! To fox!
To fox! Tallyho!

Tallyho, what!

Now that's entertainment.

Hemmings dead,
my neck on the block,

and the only solid lead the name on that
marker I saw before the lights went out...

Mortimer Foxxe, an
antique dealer no less.

One of those fashionable
shops you don't go to for bargains.

May I help you?

Mr. Foxxe? Yes.

Perhaps something in
Ming. Louis Quatorze.

I'd prefer some information.

Information? About what?

About the marker I found with your
name on it in Arthur Hemmings's nightclub.

I'm not required to
answer your questions.

Well, maybe not, sweetheart,

but I think you'd rather
talk to me than the cops.

That was a Ming
vase. Oh, I'm sorry.

Send me the bill.
Oh, please! Please!

Don't move.

All right. What do
you want to know?

I find your I.O.U. in the
hand of a dead gangster,

and then somebody
saps me from behind.

What do you think I wanna know?

Arthur was dead when
I walked into his office.

Oh. So, when I walk in, naturally
you have no choice but to hit me.

Well, I...

I didn't know who you
were. I-I didn't care.

All I wanted were the
markers in Hemmings's file.

Gamblers come in all
shapes and sizes, don't they?

All you wanted were
your markers, huh?

Not only mine. Everyone's.

If Arthur was torturing me, you can
imagine what he was doing to other people.

You got everybody's markers?

Yes, and I'll be sending them
back to the people who signed them.

Let me have Peggy Chandler's.

I'll take 'em back
to her personally.

That's all I want, Mr. Foxxe, just
the ones from Peggy Chandler.

I don't recall any
markers with that name.

Here, I'll show you.

See for yourself. There are no
I.O.U.'s from Peggy Chandler.

Are you sure?

- You didn't miss any?
- Positive.

Thank you, Mr. Foxxe.

Thank you very, very much.

Twenty bucks for the vase okay?

It was worth 8,000.

Well, like I say,

just, uh, send me the bill.

Mumsy, are you all right?

I almost got killed.

Horses trampling
through my birthday party.

You think he cares?

I told you, Florence, before you married
him... a selfish man. You told me too.

Of all the places in the
world we could've gone,

you suppose there's
any place worse than this?

Aw, I don't know.
The food's not bad.

If nobody minds, I
think I'll take a walk.

Oh, sure. There goes
the old macho bit.

Never mind the wife and
kiddie. Just get up and go.

He just got up and went.

Aw, shut up, Arnold.

Hello, Iris? Stanley?

I think you might be in great
danger. We have to meet.

Whatever Peggy or
Arthur told you was a lie.

There are no I.O.U.'s,
sweetheart. None.

The roadhouse. The police
closed it after the murder.

I'll meet you there
at 10:00 tonight.

Uh, I know this
bungalow is not precisely...

what most of you had in mind.

That's a mild way of putting it.

Dreadful's what it is.

Fortunately,

there is another
family quite partial to it.

In fact, they
have it every year.

As a matter of fact,
they have it this year, too,

starting, uh,

well, tomorrow morning.

I'm a little slow
today, Mr. Roarke.

- Just what is it you're saying?
- Well, I'm afraid I'm saying...

there's been another...

laughable little mix-up in
the reservations, and, uh...

Well, you are in their bungalow.

Laughable? That's funny. I
don't see anybody laughing.

I think I have something
even better for you...

A marvelous suite in
one of our older buildings.

Not so close to the
ocean, so it's a lot quieter.

And you won't even need to pack.

You'll have a drink with me,

and the staff will have you
out of here within 20 minutes.

Mr. Roarke, all my life, I've
tried to be a reasonable man,

but you've finally
reached my breaking point.

And as far as moving,
I've got a better idea.

You go have a drink and figure out
somebody else to flimflam instead of me...

and give them the
heave-ho in 20 minutes...

Someone who's not
onto your style yet.

I beg your pardon?

You're a con man.
You're a lightweight fraud.

You sell reservations and
don't even write them down.

You promise every wild sort of
service short of raising the dead,

and you can't even manage a lousy
picnic without making a shambles of it.

It was very, uh, colorful.

There's only one thing I like less than
your service, and that's your manner...

which I find very
condescending and flip.

- Flip?
- Oh, come on. I'm too old for that.

If I wanna be treated like a schmo,
I can get that from my own family.

That's the only
thing they're good at.

Are you telling me
you refuse to move?

Move? We'll move...

Monday morning,
from here to the plane.

In the meantime, if there's one
hint of bad service or inconvenience,

you'll hear from some lawyers.

If there's any discourtesy,
that'll be between you and me...

Outside, with the coats off.

Well, sir,

if that's your attitude.

Tattoo.

Fred Stouton! Florence.

Sit down and shut up!

It's happening just as I told you
it would. He's losing his marbles.

Oh, I'm losing a lot
more than that, Roberta.

You know she doesn't
like to be called Roberta.

Especially by you.

That's too bad, 'cause Roberta's
what I'm gonna call her from now on.

You get that, Roberta? And that's not the
only change I'm gonna make in this family.

I can feel it coming on now.

Acid indigestion. Heartburn.

The stewardess on the plane
will get you something for it.

Plane? The next
plane outta here...

Taking your mother back
to some of her other kids.

- He doesn't want me.
- Want you? I never have.

Florence, go help Roberta pack.

Wow. Wait till
they get you home.

When you're done with that, you
might want to come back and help Arnold.

Because, to coin a phrase, I'm just
about fed up with our son's behavior.

It was 10:00, the time
in any investigation...

when a good private eye would
have to rely on a hunch, a gut feeling.

I could tell by the burning
in the pit of my stomach...

that it was my turn to gamble...

To draw to an inside straight,
to bet on the gray horse.

I was so close to breaking this
baby wide open I could taste it.

Iris?

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Iris.

Stanley.

I was so worried about you.

I'm okay. You're not.
What do you mean?

No Peggy Chandler markers, Iris.

Didn't you hear me?

Stanley, you're lying to
me. Why are you lying?

Oh. Whoever killed Arthur
also took the markers.

That's what happened. Of
course that's what happened.

No, Iris. What happened is there
never were any markers of Peggy's.

She lied?

Iris, the only thing Peggy
lied to her father about...

was her true relationship
with Arthur Hemmings.

She was having
an affair with him.

No. No, that's not true.

Arthur threw you over the minute he
laid eyes on your husband's daughter.

He was crazy for her.

That's what you and
Hemmings were arguing

about at the bar when
you suckered me into it.

I never asked you to interfere.

No, but I think
you knew I would.

You set me up then, and you set
me up again in Hemmings's office.

How can you say those things?
How can you even think them?

Oh, come on, Mrs. Chandler.

All I have to do is ask your husband
who told him about Peggy's I.O.U.'s.

It couldn't have been
Arthur, because there

never were any
markers in the first place.

And it certainly wasn't Peggy.

Well,

that leaves only one
other person... me.

I came back here again...

One final attempt
to persuade Arthur...

to end this foolish
infatuation with Peggy.

Well, it got out of hand.

He struck me.

I had to defend myself.

Yeah, with a pair of scissors...

or some equally sharp
instrument... in his back.

It was an accident. I swear.

Oh, Stanley.

If you feel anything for
me... Anything at all...

You can't turn me in now,

not knowing how
I feel about you.

Oh, Stanley, we
could go away together,

the two of us together.

Oh, yeah? Go away where?

Anywhere you like.

We can go to Miami, Rio.

No. I couldn't trust you, Iris.

Watching my back every
time you're in my arms...

is not my idea of a
healthy, mature relationship.

No, baby.

You're takin' the fall.

I don't think so,
darling. Not this time.

I don't think you'll
pull the trigger.

At least not in front
of an audience.

Lights, please.

Lights, please.

Did you get all that?

Every word.

Stanley, you did
a real nice job.

What about him? Sergeant,
you've got your prisoner.

Go on.

Yeah.

And don't forget to
read her her rights.

Once again, she looked at me...

with those baby blues
that carried the 30,000 volts.

But this time, I wasn't buying.

At least he got in
some peace and quiet.

You're really proud of
yourself, hmm, boss?

You should have seen the
old lady getting on the plane...

Didn't dare open her mouth.

Pop?

Hi, Arnold.

Can I talk to you for a minute?

Sure. Sit down, Son.

I've been doing
a lot of thinking.

That's terrific.

I know you're mad at me.
No, I'm not mad. I'm angry.

Only dogs get mad. When they
get mad, they foam at the mouth.

See? No foam. You're funny, Dad.

Oh? Wait till I tell
the kids at school...

about you telling
off Mr. Roarke.

A real hero. Ah. I'm no hero.

Yes, you are, Dad. To me anyway.

Telling Mumsy off the way
you did... you've really got guts.

Can I buy you a drink? Sure.

How about a glass
of milk? Fine with me.

Okay.

Arnold told me
you were out here.

I suppose it was an oversight...

Not tossing me out
with everybody else.

Toss you out? What
are you talking about?

You're my wife. I love you.

Well, if you're gonna
be pleasant about this,

I can be just as damn pleasant
as you can, Fred Stouton.

I've been telling
you that for years.

I take it all back, boss.

This time, you should
really be proud of yourself.

Thank you. You see, Tattoo,
being the owner of Fantasy Island...

means never having
to say you're sorry.

Uh-oh. Here comes more trouble.

Faith such as yours, Tattoo,
could move a molehill... almost.

Good morning, Mr. Roarke.
Uh, small problem.

Mrs. Stouton and I
just realized that, well,

we're having such a
marvelous time, and...

And we wondered if we
could stay a few more days.

- We don't need a big place.
- Anywhere Dad can
get some rest.

With all due
respect, Mr. Stouton,

you may stay anywhere you want.

Your wish is our command.

Thank you... again.

Well, Mr. Scheckter, was your
fantasy all that you anticipated?

Mr. Roarke, it was more than anything
I could possibly have dreamed of.

- Cracking a big case like that was just...
- Oh, uh...

Mr. Roarke, we want
to thank you very much.

Yes. It was truly a
unique opportunity...

for our entire cast
and company...

to rehearse our play
in such authentic sets.

I am so glad you're pleased, and I
hope you have a very pleasant journey.

Thank you. Good-bye. Good-bye.

You mean it was all a play?
It was all just make-believe?

Was it really, Mr. Scheckter?

Perhaps that's a mystery
you can unravel on the plane.

Good-bye and good luck.

Bye.

Good-bye.

Tattoo, I just noticed...
you're not wearing your turban.

I gave that up. I don't think there
is such a thing as mind reading.

Oh? Well, I suppose that's a
valuable lesson to have learned.

- No.
- No what?

No, you may not have a
twenty-dollar advance on your salary...

so you can go to
the disco tonight.

One must learn to live
within one's own budget.

How did you know?

I just thought to ask
you a few minutes ago.

- Really?
- Mm-hmm.

Huh.