King of the Hill (1997–2010): Season 5, Episode 19 - Hank's Back Story - full transcript
Hank must wear a prosthesis when he is diagnosed with Diminished Gluteal Syndrome.
Mail came a little early yesterday. 3:30.
Yeah, Peggy was telling me.
Gentlemen, you are looking
at the next winner...
of the First Annual Durndle County
mower races, stock class.
Mower races? Well, good for Durndle.
Me and my Mason 5000 will do 20 laps
around the track...
at speeds approaching 12 miles an hour.
I've chosen you three to be my pit crew.
Pit crew? Stuff that, mister.
If there's organized mower-racing, I'm in.
- Me, too!
- Plan on eating my dust, Gribble.
Fine. You're all fired from my pit crew.
So unless you plan on buying
Mason 5000s between now and race day...
and not having them
anonymously vandalized, plan on losing.
Dale, it's the man, not the machine
that wins races.
And I'll say this to you,
and to you, and to you:
I am the man.
You want to back out now?
You mean back out of the race
or back out of this position?
Because I can do both
but I will only do one.
There's more where that came from.
Oh, man.
Not my back again.
Mom, how come Dad gets to stand
at the breakfast table...
and I never get to wear my cape?
Because your father is afraid of doctors.
Now, Hank, according to my count...
this is the fifth or eighth time
that your back has gone out this year.
Will you make an appointment already?
No. My back's just stiff
from training for the mower race.
I spent three hours last night
working on my starts.
See, if I can beat Boomhauer off the line,
he'll fall apart mentally.
What is it with you mower-racers
and your stubborn code of honor?
I see a doctor
whenever I'm incapacitated...
and it does not make me
any less of a man.
I am not incapacitated. Enough said.
There. Just take it. Take it all.
I don't want any more junk food
in my house.
- Bill, are the rats back?
- I don't know.
I'm trying to lose weight so I have
a better chance in the mower race.
Well, Bill, you could lose 100 pounds...
and you still wouldn't be able
to take a corner like me.
Well, I've got news for you.
I could never lose 100 pounds.
And you haven't been practicing.
Your lawn is shaggy!
You say something
about my lawn, Dauterive?
- Thank you, Gina.
- Dr. Tate.
Yes.
Mr. Hill, you have a compression
of the discs in your lower back.
Do you get a lot of this in your patients
who race mowers?
A lawnmower didn't cause this,
it's genetic.
- Genetic as in fatal?
- No.
DR. TATE: Mr. Hill, you were born
with no muscle mass here...
no cushioning.
For years, you've basically been
sitting on your spine.
You suffer from a disease called
Diminished Gluteal Syndrome or DGS.
I don't understand. What does that mean?
Mr. Hill, you have no ass.
Diminished Gluteal Syndrome?
How could this happen to me?
Let me show you something.
Gina, the chart.
- Just a moment, Doctor.
- I'll just do it myself.
This drawing shows
a healthy gluteus Maximus.
Dr. TATE: You, have this body type.
It's actually quite common in the suburbs.
A white male with small buttocks
and protruding belly...
often caused
by pronounced consumption of beer.
My rear end isn't as flat as that guy's.
I'm going to prescribe
a gluteal orthotic device.
It's a prosthetic you wear
over your backside...
to help alleviate the pressure
on your spine.
You want me to wear a fake heinie?
Mr. Hill, are your shoes fake feet?
This is your gluteal orthotic.
Let's see.
You wear it under your pants and...
Well, that's about it.
Let's see how she fits.
Those two bags are filled with saline.
Dr. Tate has prescribed 1,700 milliliters
for your left cheek...
and 1,500 for your right.
Isn't that interesting, Hank?
You have one butt cheek
bigger than the other, just like my feet.
HANK: Yeah, we're made for each other.
I wear a size 16-and-a-half on my left foot,
16 on my right.
How's that feel, Hank?
Pretty good, I guess.
Can you tell I've got something on
back there?
No, not at all.
Excuse me. I noticed...
Are you a patient of Dr. Tate?
- No.
- Yes.
Me, too.
Name's Dave. Dave Ulster.
Hank.
Hank Grill.
It can be tough in the beginning.
If you, you know...
you ever need to talk or anything,
give me a call.
Well, thank you,
but this is a personal problem...
that I am fully capable
of handling on my own.
get ready for Peggy Hill's joke of the day.
I'll be dipped!
Come on, Dad. Pedal to the metal.
Take small sips. Don't gulp.
I'm mowing like I'm back in high school.
Have you seen my orthotic?
I need it for dinner.
My dad's gonna be here in 10 minutes.
I was doing a load of support garments,
so I went ahead and threw it in.
I hung it on the line to dry.
It's "dry on a flat surface only!"
Didn't you read the tags?
DALE: Over here, Hank. Behind you.
You give that back before I kick your ass!
Don't you mean before you kick your ass?
That is a medical device
prescribed by an orthopedic physician.
I'm here. Where's the steak?
- Dad, go in the house. I'll be right in...
- Colonel, you saved me a phone call.
I regret to inform you that your son
is wearing saline implants...
i.e., falsies on his rump.
Dear God, Hank.
You're wearing butt boobies.
It's not for my buttocks, it's for my back.
Didi, come over here.
Put your fake ta-ta's next to Hank's.
We'll see who's got the bigger melons!
All right, that tears it.
Dad, you give that to me right now!
Keepaway from Hank!
Pipe down, hillbillies!
We're having a game of keepaway here,
Mr. Kahn.
Catch.
What information
have you brought me, Octavio?
Bill is losing weight, jefe.
He's eating only oranges
and ham sandwiches.
Blast it! We will still win
but we must train twice as hard.
Octavio, release the chicken.
[Dale clucking]
So that's the way it is.
Hank, do not just stand there
watching Dale mow a chicken.
Get your cheeks down off that line
and get yourself back in the race.
No. I'm done with mower-racing.
And I'll tell you something else:
I'm ripping up the grass
and putting in wood chips.
You know how I always hated
having a lawn.
Hank, Mr. Strickland just called.
There is a propane emergency
out in McMaynerbury.
McMaynerbury? When will they learn?
No, no. Hop in.
With your bad back, I will drive.
Hello?
Hank Hill, Strickland Propane.
Do not light any matches.
DAVE: We're back here, Hank.
Remember me, Hank?
Dave Ulster from the medical supply shop.
You're among friends.
All of us suffer from
Diminished Gluteal Syndrome.
But Peggy said there was a propane...
Oh, no.
Hank, my name is Wayne.
And I've been wearing for four years.
Phil. Six-and-a-half years.
I'm Larry. I've worn a prosthetic behind
for 18 months.
Oh, God! This is a support group.
We are not a support group.
We're hobbyists.
We share a similar interest
and meet twice a month to talk about it.
I can't believe this is happening to me.
Your wife told me about the awful incident
with your orthotic.
- I shared it with the group.
- I don't know what you're talking about.
I am not even confirming
that I have a wife.
It's one thing when they call us names.
But to play hot potato with your unit!
For God's sakes! It's a medical device.
That's what I kept saying.
Those cruel sons of britches.
Did you get their names?
I know their names.
They were my neighbors,
and my best friends, and...
my dad.
Hank, none of what's said here
leaves the group.
So, anybody sit anywhere good this week?
WAYNE: Guess which assistant coach sat
on his son's Little League bench?
DAVE: Nice.
LARRY: That's great.
Peggy, you better sit down,
I have something to show you.
That's right. I'm sitting.
And I owe it all to that hobbyist group.
And the one person
who put me in touch with them...
Dave Ulster.
I'm kidding you, Peggy.
See? I got my sense of humor back.
Hank, it is good to laugh again.
But on a serious note, Peggy...
don't ever report a false
propane emergency again.
Believe me, I prayed on it, Hank...
and God said to me, "Don't do it."
But you know what? I knew better.
I was not gonna rest
until you were back in that mower race.
The race? I'm done with that nonsense.
I'll wear my orthotic at home
and at my desk at work...
but I'm not gonna give my so-called
friends and family an opportunity...
to ridicule me in public.
INSTRUCTOR: Squeeze your butt
and release your butt.
And walk on your butt,
and left cheek, right cheek...
Bobby!
That's a ladies tape. What are you doing?
I'm firming my buttocks in 30 days
so I don't end up like you.
You know how much I like to sit.
Don't worry, Son.
You probably won't get DGS.
But even if you do,
you can wear a gluteal orthotic...
and sit anywhere you want.
Yeah, but sooner or later
someone will find out.
And they'll laugh.
And I want people laughing at me
'cause I'm shoving broccoli up my nose...
not because there's something wrong
with me.
INSTRUCTOR: Left cheek, right cheek...
DAVE: So, Hank, I see
you're sitting this week.
Yes, I am.
But I'd like to stand up
for what I'm about to say.
I want to thank you all
for giving me the courage...
to wear my orthotic with pride.
And dang it, I'm not just doing it for me.
I'm doing it for my son...
because chances are I've passed
this debilitating condition on to him.
And there is one thing I can do to help
my son lead a happy, shame-free life.
And that's to win
the Durndle County Lawnmower Race.
- All right, Hank.
- Way to go, Hank.
I knew y'all would be on board.
I'm gonna need an ace pit crew...
and I'm looking at one right now.
We're an unbeatable team!
The Diminished Glutes!
We'll wear it on our hats, on our jackets.
Heck, I'll paint it on my mower.
Right on top of the factory coat.
You do that, we'll throw a brick
through your window.
What the...
I thought we were an unbeatable team.
Take a seat, Hank.
We're a secret society,
not a group of Look-At-Me-Stanleys.
Well, fine. If that's the way it is,
I'll do it on my own.
Thank you, Hank. Any other new business?
Hank, painting "Diminished Glutes" on
your mower might be asking for trouble.
What about my suggestion to paint
"The Mow the Merrier?"
I suffer from a genetic condition
called DGS.
I'm sorry, Hank. It's just that
I don't know what it's like.
Because obviously, I have got it
going on back there.
God forbid in 20 years Bobby gets it.
I don't want him to feel like a freak.
I'm fighting now so he doesn't have to.
Race for the cure.
ANNOUNCER: Good afternoon.
The United States
Lawnmower Racing Association...
welcomes you to
the Durndle County Speedway.
Our day begins with the lightning speed
of the drag races.
Look at Dale over there,
all smug on his Mason 5000.
You're gonna eat my exhaust fumes,
Gribble.
- Keep talking, bubble-butt.
- I wasn't saying anything.
Not you. I was talking to Hank.
I'm gonna mow laps around both of you!
ANNOUNCER: Stock class racers,
mount your mowers.
The race will begin in one minute!
All right, Octavio.
Now that the inspection is over,
hook up the nitrous oxide to my engine.
That's illegal, no?
Yes. But it'll give me a boost of speed.
Add that to the natural quickness
of the Mason 5000...
and I just might overcome
my weak driving skills.
ANNOUNCER: Racers, start your engines!
And ready, set...
mow!
I did better than I thought I would.
[Upbeat '70s pop music]
Don't you clip my wheels, you little tush.
Say that again to the back of my head...
Mr. Non-U.S. Lawnmower
Association Approved Helmet.
ANNOUNCER: Ten laps down,
ten laps to mow!
He blew out his left cheek!
No. That's his pivot cheek.
Now he can't turn to the inside.
Hank, I just wanna say I'm proud of you.
May the best man win.
Not the other one.
My cheeks blew out.
I'm riding on my tailbone.
I don't think I can finish.
Yes, you can.
There's less than one lap to go.
Gut it out.
Cramp! Gut it out!
Watch out. I'm pulling off the track.
DAVE AND LARRY:
We're here! No rear! Get used to it!
We're here! No rear! Get used to it!
Hank, take my ass.
ANNOUNCER: And the winner of the First
Annual Durndle County Mower Race...
is Boomhauer!
Damn, we lost.
You worthless piece of junk.
But I can still beat Hank.
That's even better than winning.
Come on, you graceful gazelle.
Dang cheating Octavio blew my engine!
ANNOUNCER: Dale Gribble
on the Mason 5000.
Hank Hill on the Diminished
Gluteal Syndrome mower!
What a battle for sixth place!
Celebrate good times, come on!
Sixth place!
Well, I'm sorry I let you down
by not winning the race.
Hank, what you did, it took a lot of guts.
You got seventh place. That means you
automatically qualify for next year's race.
Well, I appreciate what you guys did
out there today, too.
That also took a lot of guts.
Especially you, Larry.
We were all reaching for our bags, buddy.
I was just quickest on the draw.
All right, then.
I guess I'll see you guys next Tuesday.
She's a beaut. What kind of engine?
Briggs and Stratton?
Tecumseh.
Ten-and-a-half horse under the hood.
That padding, that thing you were
wearing during the race...
I got a friend
who could use something like that.
Well, why don't you give your friend
my card?
Excuse me. I think you could use it, too.
Peggy, to the medical supply store.
I need some new cheeks.
DR. TATE: Thank you, Gina.
GINA: Dr. Tate.
Yeah, Peggy was telling me.
Gentlemen, you are looking
at the next winner...
of the First Annual Durndle County
mower races, stock class.
Mower races? Well, good for Durndle.
Me and my Mason 5000 will do 20 laps
around the track...
at speeds approaching 12 miles an hour.
I've chosen you three to be my pit crew.
Pit crew? Stuff that, mister.
If there's organized mower-racing, I'm in.
- Me, too!
- Plan on eating my dust, Gribble.
Fine. You're all fired from my pit crew.
So unless you plan on buying
Mason 5000s between now and race day...
and not having them
anonymously vandalized, plan on losing.
Dale, it's the man, not the machine
that wins races.
And I'll say this to you,
and to you, and to you:
I am the man.
You want to back out now?
You mean back out of the race
or back out of this position?
Because I can do both
but I will only do one.
There's more where that came from.
Oh, man.
Not my back again.
Mom, how come Dad gets to stand
at the breakfast table...
and I never get to wear my cape?
Because your father is afraid of doctors.
Now, Hank, according to my count...
this is the fifth or eighth time
that your back has gone out this year.
Will you make an appointment already?
No. My back's just stiff
from training for the mower race.
I spent three hours last night
working on my starts.
See, if I can beat Boomhauer off the line,
he'll fall apart mentally.
What is it with you mower-racers
and your stubborn code of honor?
I see a doctor
whenever I'm incapacitated...
and it does not make me
any less of a man.
I am not incapacitated. Enough said.
There. Just take it. Take it all.
I don't want any more junk food
in my house.
- Bill, are the rats back?
- I don't know.
I'm trying to lose weight so I have
a better chance in the mower race.
Well, Bill, you could lose 100 pounds...
and you still wouldn't be able
to take a corner like me.
Well, I've got news for you.
I could never lose 100 pounds.
And you haven't been practicing.
Your lawn is shaggy!
You say something
about my lawn, Dauterive?
- Thank you, Gina.
- Dr. Tate.
Yes.
Mr. Hill, you have a compression
of the discs in your lower back.
Do you get a lot of this in your patients
who race mowers?
A lawnmower didn't cause this,
it's genetic.
- Genetic as in fatal?
- No.
DR. TATE: Mr. Hill, you were born
with no muscle mass here...
no cushioning.
For years, you've basically been
sitting on your spine.
You suffer from a disease called
Diminished Gluteal Syndrome or DGS.
I don't understand. What does that mean?
Mr. Hill, you have no ass.
Diminished Gluteal Syndrome?
How could this happen to me?
Let me show you something.
Gina, the chart.
- Just a moment, Doctor.
- I'll just do it myself.
This drawing shows
a healthy gluteus Maximus.
Dr. TATE: You, have this body type.
It's actually quite common in the suburbs.
A white male with small buttocks
and protruding belly...
often caused
by pronounced consumption of beer.
My rear end isn't as flat as that guy's.
I'm going to prescribe
a gluteal orthotic device.
It's a prosthetic you wear
over your backside...
to help alleviate the pressure
on your spine.
You want me to wear a fake heinie?
Mr. Hill, are your shoes fake feet?
This is your gluteal orthotic.
Let's see.
You wear it under your pants and...
Well, that's about it.
Let's see how she fits.
Those two bags are filled with saline.
Dr. Tate has prescribed 1,700 milliliters
for your left cheek...
and 1,500 for your right.
Isn't that interesting, Hank?
You have one butt cheek
bigger than the other, just like my feet.
HANK: Yeah, we're made for each other.
I wear a size 16-and-a-half on my left foot,
16 on my right.
How's that feel, Hank?
Pretty good, I guess.
Can you tell I've got something on
back there?
No, not at all.
Excuse me. I noticed...
Are you a patient of Dr. Tate?
- No.
- Yes.
Me, too.
Name's Dave. Dave Ulster.
Hank.
Hank Grill.
It can be tough in the beginning.
If you, you know...
you ever need to talk or anything,
give me a call.
Well, thank you,
but this is a personal problem...
that I am fully capable
of handling on my own.
get ready for Peggy Hill's joke of the day.
I'll be dipped!
Come on, Dad. Pedal to the metal.
Take small sips. Don't gulp.
I'm mowing like I'm back in high school.
Have you seen my orthotic?
I need it for dinner.
My dad's gonna be here in 10 minutes.
I was doing a load of support garments,
so I went ahead and threw it in.
I hung it on the line to dry.
It's "dry on a flat surface only!"
Didn't you read the tags?
DALE: Over here, Hank. Behind you.
You give that back before I kick your ass!
Don't you mean before you kick your ass?
That is a medical device
prescribed by an orthopedic physician.
I'm here. Where's the steak?
- Dad, go in the house. I'll be right in...
- Colonel, you saved me a phone call.
I regret to inform you that your son
is wearing saline implants...
i.e., falsies on his rump.
Dear God, Hank.
You're wearing butt boobies.
It's not for my buttocks, it's for my back.
Didi, come over here.
Put your fake ta-ta's next to Hank's.
We'll see who's got the bigger melons!
All right, that tears it.
Dad, you give that to me right now!
Keepaway from Hank!
Pipe down, hillbillies!
We're having a game of keepaway here,
Mr. Kahn.
Catch.
What information
have you brought me, Octavio?
Bill is losing weight, jefe.
He's eating only oranges
and ham sandwiches.
Blast it! We will still win
but we must train twice as hard.
Octavio, release the chicken.
[Dale clucking]
So that's the way it is.
Hank, do not just stand there
watching Dale mow a chicken.
Get your cheeks down off that line
and get yourself back in the race.
No. I'm done with mower-racing.
And I'll tell you something else:
I'm ripping up the grass
and putting in wood chips.
You know how I always hated
having a lawn.
Hank, Mr. Strickland just called.
There is a propane emergency
out in McMaynerbury.
McMaynerbury? When will they learn?
No, no. Hop in.
With your bad back, I will drive.
Hello?
Hank Hill, Strickland Propane.
Do not light any matches.
DAVE: We're back here, Hank.
Remember me, Hank?
Dave Ulster from the medical supply shop.
You're among friends.
All of us suffer from
Diminished Gluteal Syndrome.
But Peggy said there was a propane...
Oh, no.
Hank, my name is Wayne.
And I've been wearing for four years.
Phil. Six-and-a-half years.
I'm Larry. I've worn a prosthetic behind
for 18 months.
Oh, God! This is a support group.
We are not a support group.
We're hobbyists.
We share a similar interest
and meet twice a month to talk about it.
I can't believe this is happening to me.
Your wife told me about the awful incident
with your orthotic.
- I shared it with the group.
- I don't know what you're talking about.
I am not even confirming
that I have a wife.
It's one thing when they call us names.
But to play hot potato with your unit!
For God's sakes! It's a medical device.
That's what I kept saying.
Those cruel sons of britches.
Did you get their names?
I know their names.
They were my neighbors,
and my best friends, and...
my dad.
Hank, none of what's said here
leaves the group.
So, anybody sit anywhere good this week?
WAYNE: Guess which assistant coach sat
on his son's Little League bench?
DAVE: Nice.
LARRY: That's great.
Peggy, you better sit down,
I have something to show you.
That's right. I'm sitting.
And I owe it all to that hobbyist group.
And the one person
who put me in touch with them...
Dave Ulster.
I'm kidding you, Peggy.
See? I got my sense of humor back.
Hank, it is good to laugh again.
But on a serious note, Peggy...
don't ever report a false
propane emergency again.
Believe me, I prayed on it, Hank...
and God said to me, "Don't do it."
But you know what? I knew better.
I was not gonna rest
until you were back in that mower race.
The race? I'm done with that nonsense.
I'll wear my orthotic at home
and at my desk at work...
but I'm not gonna give my so-called
friends and family an opportunity...
to ridicule me in public.
INSTRUCTOR: Squeeze your butt
and release your butt.
And walk on your butt,
and left cheek, right cheek...
Bobby!
That's a ladies tape. What are you doing?
I'm firming my buttocks in 30 days
so I don't end up like you.
You know how much I like to sit.
Don't worry, Son.
You probably won't get DGS.
But even if you do,
you can wear a gluteal orthotic...
and sit anywhere you want.
Yeah, but sooner or later
someone will find out.
And they'll laugh.
And I want people laughing at me
'cause I'm shoving broccoli up my nose...
not because there's something wrong
with me.
INSTRUCTOR: Left cheek, right cheek...
DAVE: So, Hank, I see
you're sitting this week.
Yes, I am.
But I'd like to stand up
for what I'm about to say.
I want to thank you all
for giving me the courage...
to wear my orthotic with pride.
And dang it, I'm not just doing it for me.
I'm doing it for my son...
because chances are I've passed
this debilitating condition on to him.
And there is one thing I can do to help
my son lead a happy, shame-free life.
And that's to win
the Durndle County Lawnmower Race.
- All right, Hank.
- Way to go, Hank.
I knew y'all would be on board.
I'm gonna need an ace pit crew...
and I'm looking at one right now.
We're an unbeatable team!
The Diminished Glutes!
We'll wear it on our hats, on our jackets.
Heck, I'll paint it on my mower.
Right on top of the factory coat.
You do that, we'll throw a brick
through your window.
What the...
I thought we were an unbeatable team.
Take a seat, Hank.
We're a secret society,
not a group of Look-At-Me-Stanleys.
Well, fine. If that's the way it is,
I'll do it on my own.
Thank you, Hank. Any other new business?
Hank, painting "Diminished Glutes" on
your mower might be asking for trouble.
What about my suggestion to paint
"The Mow the Merrier?"
I suffer from a genetic condition
called DGS.
I'm sorry, Hank. It's just that
I don't know what it's like.
Because obviously, I have got it
going on back there.
God forbid in 20 years Bobby gets it.
I don't want him to feel like a freak.
I'm fighting now so he doesn't have to.
Race for the cure.
ANNOUNCER: Good afternoon.
The United States
Lawnmower Racing Association...
welcomes you to
the Durndle County Speedway.
Our day begins with the lightning speed
of the drag races.
Look at Dale over there,
all smug on his Mason 5000.
You're gonna eat my exhaust fumes,
Gribble.
- Keep talking, bubble-butt.
- I wasn't saying anything.
Not you. I was talking to Hank.
I'm gonna mow laps around both of you!
ANNOUNCER: Stock class racers,
mount your mowers.
The race will begin in one minute!
All right, Octavio.
Now that the inspection is over,
hook up the nitrous oxide to my engine.
That's illegal, no?
Yes. But it'll give me a boost of speed.
Add that to the natural quickness
of the Mason 5000...
and I just might overcome
my weak driving skills.
ANNOUNCER: Racers, start your engines!
And ready, set...
mow!
I did better than I thought I would.
[Upbeat '70s pop music]
Don't you clip my wheels, you little tush.
Say that again to the back of my head...
Mr. Non-U.S. Lawnmower
Association Approved Helmet.
ANNOUNCER: Ten laps down,
ten laps to mow!
He blew out his left cheek!
No. That's his pivot cheek.
Now he can't turn to the inside.
Hank, I just wanna say I'm proud of you.
May the best man win.
Not the other one.
My cheeks blew out.
I'm riding on my tailbone.
I don't think I can finish.
Yes, you can.
There's less than one lap to go.
Gut it out.
Cramp! Gut it out!
Watch out. I'm pulling off the track.
DAVE AND LARRY:
We're here! No rear! Get used to it!
We're here! No rear! Get used to it!
Hank, take my ass.
ANNOUNCER: And the winner of the First
Annual Durndle County Mower Race...
is Boomhauer!
Damn, we lost.
You worthless piece of junk.
But I can still beat Hank.
That's even better than winning.
Come on, you graceful gazelle.
Dang cheating Octavio blew my engine!
ANNOUNCER: Dale Gribble
on the Mason 5000.
Hank Hill on the Diminished
Gluteal Syndrome mower!
What a battle for sixth place!
Celebrate good times, come on!
Sixth place!
Well, I'm sorry I let you down
by not winning the race.
Hank, what you did, it took a lot of guts.
You got seventh place. That means you
automatically qualify for next year's race.
Well, I appreciate what you guys did
out there today, too.
That also took a lot of guts.
Especially you, Larry.
We were all reaching for our bags, buddy.
I was just quickest on the draw.
All right, then.
I guess I'll see you guys next Tuesday.
She's a beaut. What kind of engine?
Briggs and Stratton?
Tecumseh.
Ten-and-a-half horse under the hood.
That padding, that thing you were
wearing during the race...
I got a friend
who could use something like that.
Well, why don't you give your friend
my card?
Excuse me. I think you could use it, too.
Peggy, to the medical supply store.
I need some new cheeks.
DR. TATE: Thank you, Gina.
GINA: Dr. Tate.