King of the Hill (1997–2010): Season 13, Episode 3 - Square-Footed Monster - full transcript

Ripped By mstoll

Yeah.

Nancy got me a new DVD:

Reach For Your Life with
Master Stretcher John Brandy.

Six weeks, and I'll have
a spine like a Slinky.

Man, I talkin' 'bout...

man, tight on my back, man.

Okay, new alley protocol.

All future stretching
should be done alone

and out of public view.

Good afternoon.



Uh, buenos días.

I need four to fix up a house.

Cuatro.

Hey, this
is Mrs. Dwyer's house.

Old Mrs. Dwyer sure did
like concrete amphibians.

It's a shame one
ended up killing her.

You the buyer?

Oh, you speak English.

No, I'm her nephew, Eric,
from Minneapolis.

My condolences.

I lived next door to your aunt.

What a nice lady.

We used to chat about puppies

and serial killers
through the fence.



Wait a... hold...

I thought you were day laborers.

I just need to get the house

on the market
as soon as possible.

You know any day laborers?

Well, I know four day craftsmen,

and they're standing
right in front of you.

Eric...

here's the situation so far.

Given the roof area,
your downspouts

simply don't match your
drainage needs, and I'm...

Look, all I care about
is curb appeal.

I mean, seriously, do people
really look at downspouts?

You had us there for a second,

I tell you what.

Good.

Now, stare at your belly

and pretend it's not a baby,

but something cute like a puppy.

Uncle Hank,

you're being
in my pregnancy photos!

Oh, sorry.

We're getting
Dotty's place fixed up.

It's gonna look pretty good

once we strip away the layer
of old lady.

Leg!

Kahn, that is fresh sod.

You worry about grass,

I worry who move
into this house.

Last thing we need
is more rednecks.

I just hope it's not
another Army guy.

That's kind of my thing.

Yeah, well,
I put up flyer for house

at Nine Rivers Country Club.

Not to make light
of old lady's death,

but one redneck neighbor
down, four to go.

This sweet little house
all spiffed up

reminds me why I love
this neighborhood.

It's the people.

People with a pride of ownership

and a sense of community
and respect for one another.

It's got-dang beautiful,
I tell you what.

So true.

We should do this
to Bill's house

when he dies.

Well, how about that?

Sold in one day.

Lucky, looks like you officially

have the worst house
in the neighborhood.

Well, from an investment
standpoint,

there's no better place to be.

I hope these new neighbors

aren't sourpusses
about loud music.

I just got a new whammy bar.

Well, I imagine any person

who appreciates
fine craftsmanship

will probably be
a fine neighbor, too.

Morning, Baron.

Count... Captain.

Mr. Turtlebee.

Hey, you, shut it down.

I have a work order
to demo the premises.

Oh, don't tell me
I got the wrong address again.

Ted!

Wonderful to see you.

Wait, can it be true?

You bought this house?

Indeed, Kahn.

I did acquire this property.

And today I'm breaking ground

on what some people
refer to as a "dream home."

Proceed.

Incredible!

When I put up flyer
at Nine Rivers,

I thought maybe we'd be lucky

to get somebody's
broke uncle to move here.

Maybe, but I never
dreamed we'd snag

the big kahuna himself,
Ted Wassonasong.

Whoo.

They don't build them
like that anymore.

This is ridiculous.

I think I've actually breathed
cleaner air in Houston.

What's the matter, rednecks?

Progress got you down?

Just think, one day soon,
I will be able

to say two words
I've longed to say to Ted...

"Hey, neighbor."

What is so got-dang great

about living next
to Ted Wassonasong?

Looking at him is like listening
to smooth jazz.

Well, gotta go make
fresh pot of green tea.

Ted's using my bathroom

and Internet
during construction.

It's like a fantasy.

Bobby, look at those guys.

They're not working.

They're littering

and peeing everywhere and...
and scarfing junk food.

Construction is a dream job.

This is why they tell us
to stay in school...

So we don't find out
how great working is.

Man, that dude
had a lot to drink.

This can't be good.

Maybe we should move
down the alley.

Nope, this is our spot,

and we are holding our ground.

Hit it.

It's man's most disgusting act
in reverse.

Stand your ground.

Yeah, but...
Hold!

Look at the size
of that foundation.

I don't think they left room
for a lawn.

No lawn.

How are you holding up, Bill?

Not so good.

The constant loud noises

have made me realize
how much I miss my wife.

Pardon my dust.

Here, I got you all something
I thought you'd like.

Peach chardonnay?

You're welcome.

Care to see
what all the fuss is about?

Oh, my God!

It's a McMansion.

Looks like a bank.

No, a church.

Wait, a casino?

I don't know what the hell
I'm looking at.

This?

This is your dream home?

No, not for me.

I am creating
someone else's dream.

It's what's called
a speculation house.

You didn't think I
was moving here.

Of course, we didn't, Ted.

You're like a movie star,
and we're... we're...

Oh, God, I'm gonna miss us!

Uh... okay.

Can I still use
your facsimile machine?

We can't just sit here

and let this happen
to our neighborhood.

We've got to stop this thing.

I need that chardonnay, please.

And as you can see,

our homes are of modest size.

Nobody has more room
than they need.

Some have less, but they're
better people for it.

And then, there's this.

Five bedrooms,
five and a half baths

in over 4,600 square feet
of obnoxiousness.

Mr. Hill,
are you telling me

there are five bathrooms
in this house?

Yep, as asinine as it sounds.

And are they en suite?

Uh, I don't know
what that means.

Mr. Hill, I play golf twice
a week with Ted Wassonasong.

I am sure he's done
everything by the book.

Affirmative.

Yeah, but there
is one pending matter.

Do you know which agent
has the listing?

We've tried
the gentlemanly route,

now we get tough.

May I please
have the requisite forms

for a legal petition?

I've been here
for, like, forever,

and I've only seen
a petition work once.

And it was for, like, a drinking
fountain or something.

You know who you should talk to

is Edgar Hornsby.

He was the master
at finding legal loopholes.

Now we're talkin'.

Where can I find him?

They say he's been dead
for, like, 11 years.

I heard he's been
dead for 18 years,

but he still got his full
paycheck until last month.

Benefits and everything.

Well, according to this,

he's up on the third floor.

Mr. Hornsby?

Who wants to know?

Well, I'm Hank Hill
and we need your help.

Someone is building
a jackass McMansion

that's gonna destroy
our neighborhood.

Cursed McMansions.

It would be my pleasure
to aid in your fight.

Let's try railroad
right-of-ways.

Any abandoned tracks
on the property?

No.

Native Americans lived there?
Visited?

No.

Ah, the Grushaw Act.

Was anyone
violently murdered there?

Okay, have two former presidents
ever shook hands there?

Uh, no.

Gentlemen, you could
spend hours, even days,

watching me scoot around
in my chair

looking for a loophole.

And I might take pleasure
in that, but there's no point.

You're screwed.

Hey, man, how about you let me
take that dang ol',

try that chair, man?

Two breakfast burritos.

Right here, Manny...
And hey,

good coffee today.

Uh-oh, babe alert!

Come and get it!
Lookin' good sugar!

Hey, mama!

Last time I shaved my legs,

this house didn't even have
a second floor.

Still smooth.

Really smooth.

Ted's using cheap
building materials, too.

It's all spackle
and chicken wire.

I don't remember ever
hearing them pound in a nail.

And I practically
live inside that house.

Maybe they hot glued
it together.

I'm not sure how much
more I can take.

I miss the sun.

I'm tired a lot because my body

thinks it's always night.

Well, I like it.

I feel like we fell down a hole
into a fairy tale,

and now we live
next to a beautiful castle.

I can't tell
if the burgers are done,

because there's a got-dang
turret shadow across my grill.

Hey, Luanne.

I've decided

I want the baby's first smell

to be a cinnamon roll.

Oh, that's a great idea.

Egress!

Let go of my house!

Devil house!

First you take my daylight,
now you want my blood?

Everyone step back!

This thing's falling apart!

It's the end of days!

I'm going to get my camera.

This story just might be tragic
enough to be on the news.

My house!

We're gonna die!

Okay, we have no choice.

We've got to take
this house down

before it takes us down.

Heck of a storm last night.

Your homeowner's
should cover it.

It was an act of God,
an angry, vengeful God.

This was no act of God.

Look at those
sledgehammer marks.

It was the act of rednecks
on a drunken rampage.

We don't have anything to hide.

The only one who did something
wrong here was you.

Your shoddy McMansion
was gonna destroy our homes.

We only took it down
in self-defense.

And for the record,
nobody was drunk.

There's a chance

I may not have been
within the legal limits.

I'll see you in court.

Or more likely in the office
of a retired judge,

as these issues
tend to go to arbitration.

This next exhibit, Exhibit 42,

will demonstrate the inferior

tensile strength
of Mr. Wassonasong's fiberboard

to that of construction-grade
plywood.

Here, go ahead and pass
these around.

Now, for those unfamiliar
with tensile strength ratings,

I have put together
a stress versus strain graph.

Mr. Hill, when is this

trip the hardware store
going to end?

Hank is stinking up the place

with all his boring
facts and figures.

People want damning evidence

and courtroom drama.

He needs to throw
a briefcase like Mr. Brady.

Something.

Now is the time the late, great,

gay Perry Mason would
spring a surprise witness.

Yes, a surprise witness.

In my opinion, this
was a justifiable act,

as was set forth in
the 1921 landmark case,

Addison Petroleum
v. McConnaughy.

Whereby homeowners
were allowed to tear down

tilting oil derricks

which posed an immediate threat
to their property.

Your Honor, it's all
right there in the book.

Which I need back
when you're done pawing at it.

I have no bias
toward house size.

I, myself,
have a very big house.

A judge should have
a very big house.

That said,

this court rules in favor
of the defendants,

and does not hold them liable
for any damages.

Court is adjourned.

All right! Way to go!
Yay! We won!

Hey there, Ted.

I hope you're not planning

on going higher
than one-story this time.

Actually, it is not I

who will be
engaging in new construction,

but rather, the city.

Are you aware
of the term "eminent domain"?

Yeah, that's where
the government

buys your property
for public use,

but really they're
doing it for kickbacks

from companies who sign lucrative
development contracts.

Correct.

You see, I found out

two can play
the Edgar Hornsby game.

He dug up an ancient

eminent domain statute
that allowed me

to sell the lot to the city.

Gentlemen, enjoy your
new power substation.

This is terrible!

I thought I was gonna live next
to a powerful man.

Now I just live next to power.

It's not all bad.

At least we'll get
fresh electricity.

I know it's ugly,

but living next door
to a power station

means our baby will probably

grow up to have super powers.

And that will come in handy.

Lucky's always getting
pinned under cars.

Ah, there she is, my substation.

God, I love saying
"my substation."

That thing is
a got-dang eyesore.

I mean, I don't want
Ted's monstrosity back,

but this is a residential
neighborhood, after all.

Well, I do know
of a legal precedent

involving a public utility
and a dairy farm.

I'll tell you on one condition:

nobody messes with my plaque.

I swear, if it wasn't
for the possibility

of being electrocuted,
I'd buy this house.

Well, I'll take a fake house

over a big, ugly one any day.

My head feels funny.

Does it look swollen to you?

Probably just the stress
of this whole ordeal.

Ripped By mstoll