King of the Hill (1997–2010): Season 7, Episode 4 - Goodbye Normal Jeans - full transcript
Peggy gets jealous of Bobby's home economic skills. Bill loses a million dollar bet to Dale.
[Captioning sponsored by
FOX BROADCASTING COMPANY
and TWENTIETH CENTURY FOX
TELEVISION]
(grunts)
Bobby Hill,
what are you doing?
I'm ironing underwater.
Blurp, blurp, blurp.
Don’t test me, young man.
I've failed
funnier kids than you.
All right, children
irons down.
With the help
of Ernie the janitor
I have soiled each of these
cheerleader uniforms.
Your take-home exam
is to identify and remove
the mystery stain
and here's one
for our class clown.
Oh, wait, let
me give you
some extra credit.
If it's Monday night,
it must be
Frito pie
with Wolf-brand chili.
I made it just the way
you like it... perfect.
Come on, Bobby, it's Frito pie
with Wolf-brand chili night.
What the?
There better be
a naked cheerleader
under your bed.
Don’t get mad, but I think
I'm going to fail Home Ec.
Well, of course
you're failing Home Ec...
you're a guy.
Did you know your son
is taking Home Ec?
(sighs)
They got him playing
with skirts!
If Bobby learns to cook
and clean for himself
what's his motivation
to ever get married?
Home Ec is not going to
turn Bobby into a sissy.
In prison movies, the
toughest characters
always work
in the kitchen.
I wouldn't
worry, Hank.
When I was the, uh
varsity football
towel manager
I cleaned 50
jockstraps a week.
I turned out okay.
(sighs)
Hey, man, nice shot.
Man, hey no,
nothing but ice.
Oh, please.
When I was the, uh,
varsity football towel manager
I once slang-shot
a jockstrap
into a laundry hamper
from 50 yards away.
Betcha a million dollars
you can't do that again.
You're on!
(grunts)
Oh!
Hah!
You choked.
You owe me
a million dollars.
Choker!
(choking)
(coughing)
Uh!
(coughing)
Choker!
Dad says that men
install washing machines
they service
washing machines
but they aren’t supposed
to use washing machines.
Oh, please.
There's no rule
that says only women
can do housework
and only men can have careers.
I can do both.
I am what the magazines
call a superwoman.
I like Superwoman.
Oh, Bobby, thank you.
Now let's take a look
at your homework.
When we're done with it,
this stain is going to wish
it was still
some cheerleader's lunch.
First, you blind-side it
with pre-soak.
Then you sucker-punch it
with some hot water
andjust when
it's begging for mercy
you rip off its head
and pour bleach down its neck.
Finish it off, Bobby!
Are you going to let
that stain call you a sissy?!
No!
I know it's not even
Thanksgiving yet
but it feels
like Christmas morning.
Well, it's full
of holes
but you did get
the stains out...
mostly.
(gasps)
Uh-oh.
Bobby, these are your
father's dungarees!
(sighs)
How could you, Peggy?
Now what am I gonna carve
the turkey in... my underwear?
Not with an
electric knife, no sir.
Even world-famous surgeons
do not get it right
100% of the time.
They make
mistakes, Hank.
People die.
We are human.
(sighing)
Ms. Bittner,
I'm not going to lie to you.
I don't think I heard one thing
you've said all year
especially whatever
you said about bleach.
Can you help me fix
my dad's pants?
He can't wear one of
your clever jokes?
Please, Ms. Bittner, I've never
asked for anything from you
except more sugar.
Ooh, fancy!
Hey, Hank, how's it
going at the bank?
How the hell
should I know?
On a related
fiscal note, Bill
where's the million
bucks you owe me?
Oh, right, Dale, yeah.
Suitable for framing.
There you go...
$1 million!
I guess I'll have to sell
my private island
in the South Pacific, huh?
You never go anyway.
Dad, would you like to wear
jeans to work today?
You know I would.
Look what I got!
I got a bolt of denim
from Ms. Bittner.
I used your old jeans
as a pattern and I fired up
Mom's sewing machine.
My sewing machine?
No, it can't make seams
this straight.
Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt
to try them on.
Well, all right, Bobby!
They're perfect.
I mean, they're
a little stiff
but after I break 'em in
for a couple years
they'll be perfect.
Hang on, I picked up
a little trick in Home Ec.
I hope you don't mind...
I borrowed
your power sander.
(chuckling)
Peggy, he's right.
I can feel
the denim loosening up.
I'm glad you ruined my jeans.
Bobby's made them
even better.
(chuckling)
Bobby, eight hours
and no chafing!
I know what
I'm leading off with
in my Thanksgiving prayer.
...three, two, one, mark!
Buns in the oven!
Oh, then you're not
just sewing in Home Ec...
they've got you
cooking too, huh?
I hope you don't mind
but I opened a bottle of
your wedding wine
to marinate my pot roast.
Well, just make sure
when you're done playing
your mother has
her kitchen back.
It's Tuesday night
pork chops, you know.
Yes, Bobby,
I can handle the heat
so get out of my kitchen,
because with pork
the slightest mistake
could kill us all.
I'd like to cash this
for cash.
A thousand thousands
will be fine.
Most of the million dollar
checks we see are jokes.
Your job sounds fun.
I'm sorry, Mr. Dauterive
only has $418.75.
Okay, then give me
400 Sacagawea coins
18 Susan B. Anthonys
two North Carolina quarters
and a Utah.
Yep... tastes
like Tuesday.
Thank you, Hank.
Say, that smells
pretty good.
Thanks, Dad.
Could you sign this form
saying I cooked it myself
and that it tasted okay?
Yeah, I'll help you
with your homework.
Hank, you will spoil
your appetite.
Mm, no, no, it's okay.
Let's eat Bobby's
pot roast now
while it's still juicy.
Your pork chops will be
just as good tomorrow.
No, no, no.
Wednesday is
spa-Peggy and meatballs day.
You can't have pork chops
on Wednesday.
That would throw off
the whole rotation.
(chuckling):
Wednesday.
You would not have
believed it, Nancy.
He ate
that pot roast like...
like it was
my pork chops
and my pork chops
were sitting right there!
What you need, sug,
is an unfair advantage.
It's the library's,
so try not to get
anything on it.
A homemaking magazine?
Oh, no, no thank you,
I have never needed to...
Well, that is the most beautiful
Thanksgiving centerpiece
I have ever seen.
Hey, Peggy.
Uh, why's the table
covered with yard waste?
Hank, it is not yard waste.
Or it will not be
when I get through with it.
It will be our new stunning
Thanksgiving centerpiece...
made entirely of yard waste!
Ew, don't touch it, Bobby.
Those nests could be
full of fleas and ticks.
Not if you take the birds out.
They'll build
another nest.
They're not just going to let
their eggs
sit there on the sidewalk.
(grunting in pain)
Okay, Ernst is done
removing the parasites
but he cannot comb out
the dark sadness
that entangles you.
What's up with that?
Ernst, imagine
if the man you loved
found someone else
to cook for him,
and clean for him
and make his pants.
Who is this other woman?
The other woman is my son.
He may be getting
an A in Home Ec
but at what cost, huh?
At what cost to me?
Cooking and cleaning
and sewing...
I did not hear you
mention the boudoir.
I can think of many things
to be done there for Hank.
Well, I am
an excellent lover.
And Ernst is an excellent
hairstylist.
Together let us
take your husband places
from our wildest dreams!
Sorry, sir, but you have
more food than money.
Okay, I don't need
cling wrap.
This is my whole
Thanksgiving dinner
and who am I kidding
there aren't going to be
any leftovers!
(chuckling)
Um, you're still over.
Oh.
But, but...
you can't take my turkey.
(sighs)
Still over.
This circular saw cozy
fits great, son
but can we call it
something else?
Hey, how about
a circular saw buddy?
You name it
and I'll knit it!
Hey, Peggy!
Bobby made me
a circular saw buddy.
Whoa, your hair looks great.
It's so big.
Well, I hope it's not too tall
to get through
the bedroom door, Hank.
Well, the doorway's got
a seven-foot clearance.
BOBBY:
Dinner!
When it got to be 5:00
and you weren't home
I asked Bobby
to whip something up.
Well, that's a good idea.
The sooner we eat
the sooner we can
get to... dessert.
(suggestive growl)
I think Bobby made pie.
Ugh, I probably should've
stopped at seconds.
I'm not usually
a big fan of cheese
but boy, the things
Bobby does with it...
I have an idea how we can
burn off some calories, Hank.
(nauseated groan)
What's wrong?
Is Bobby's cooking
coming up on you?
I think it's all that
beauty stuff in your hair.
It kind of has
that new car smell.
Boy, that cheese! Mm!
(retching and coughing)
Hank, what is going on?
(coughing)
The fumes coming off your hair
keep waking me up.
You don't smell like
a new car.
I just said that
to make you feel better.
Bobby, put away your robot
and go to bed.
I need the couch.
Your father’s feeling ill.
I think it was
something he ate.
Why don't you just
take my bed?
I've got a lot of work
to do out here.
Agh! Was this ever
an outdoor couch?
Okay, fine,
I will sleep in your bed
right under your boogerwall.
I thought I heard
an upholstery shampooer.
Maybe you could use that thing
to get the smell
out of your mother's side
of the bed.
Have you seen her?
She was looking for
a place to sleep
so I let her have my bed.
Well, where are
you going to sleep?
I'll just crash on the couch.
It's still a little wet
but it gives me an excuse
to sleep in my poncho.
No, no, your mother's bed
is empty.
Why don't you just
bunk with me in
the big bedroom?
I'll make caramel popcorn!
I'll turn on the TV.
It's such a clear night
we might be able to pick up
the news from San Antonio.
Their sports guy played for
the Oilers for a year.
I didn't know your bed
was made of two little beds.
Well, your mother
likes her mattress firm
and I like mine
extra firm.
So I guess it's true,
opposites attract.
Check it out...
the weather girl
is looking at
the wrong camera.
(patronizing laugh)
San Antonio.
And it's going
to rain tomorrow.
(laughter)
Why would anyone
live there?
You know who'd
get a kick out of this?
Ladybird!
Come here, girl!
(sobbing)
HANK:
That Miss Piggy balloon
has the same hairdo
as your mother.
Hey, Peggy.
Well, maybe for you it is.
Oh, I was expecting you to say,
"Good morning."
So...
did you sleep well?
Not really.
Bobby and I were up
all night talking...
really, really talking.
(muffled scream)
(gasps)
So, that's where it went.
Perfect!
Hank, come in here, quick!
Look what I found
in Bobby's bed.
Mm-hmm, it's a
ladies' magazine
and that is
not my opinion.
It says so right
in the title.
You were right
about Home Ec, Hank...
it's ruining Bobby.
Every perfume ad has been
scratched and sniffed
and his horoscope says
that this is a
good week for him
to meet the man
of his dreams.
If you ask me, Hank,
that boy ain't right.
Bobby, get in here. Now.
What's up, Dad?
Son, do you think
you could make
this buttermilk-
basted turkey?
Well, that recipe
takes 24 hours.
Good thing I started on it
last night.
(chuckling)
I just thought
you were getting up
to use the bathroom a lot.
You know what?
Let's have Bobby
handle the whole meal.
What?!
But-but every year I...
This year the only thing
you have to do is get hungry.
Just kick back on the couch
now that it's fit to sit on.
BOBBY:
Oh, Dad...
where's the turkey platter?
I want to start
on the radish roses.
It's in the garage,
in a box marked:
"Winter holiday poultry
serving dishes."
Here, I'll help you
find it.
Mom, you mind
popping my bird in?
Don’t worry, the racks are set
and the oven's
already preheated.
It's idiot-proof.
They do not deserve us.
Oh... boxed in!
Did I fix my roof
in the last few days?
Well, it still looks
pretty bad, so maybe.
Why?
I can't buy any
Thanksgiving food
because my bank account is empty
and... and I can't remember
what I spent it on.
It's empty because I
cashed your check, Bill
which did not clear for
the full million dollars.
But that check was a joke,
just like the bet.
It was a joke...
I laughed.
We had a legitimate
oral contract
entered into fully and freely
when I said, "Betcha"
and you said, and I
quote, "You're on."
Dale, stop talking
like a lawyer
and give Bill his money back.
What's the point?
Bill would
probably just go
and spend it on
something stupid,
like himself.
Peggy?
Oh, I see my haircut
was a success!
Your Hank, he ravaged
you last night, yes?
Tell me, what did
you do to him?
I stole his turkey
is what I did.
I would rather share it
with a man who needs me
a man who is also alone
on Thanksgiving
because of the stigma
society attaches
to his unconventional
sexual appetites.
Get in here,
you drama queen.
Tell me, tell me, who
is this mystery man?
Who the hell is she?
Peggy Hill,
this is my wife Claudia
and my little angel Brett.
You have a family
that loves you?
(crying)
(phone rings)
Hank Hill.
Happy Thanksgiving.
ERNST (on phone):
Hank, this is Ernst.
I hope you're sitting down
for the bombshell
I am about to drop.
Last chance to sit.
Is this about the smell
in Peggy's hair?
This is not about some smell
that you are imagining.
Peggy is here with your turkey.
They are both
bruised and broken.
HANK:
Son of a gun!
Your mother took the turkey and
ran off to her hairdresser's.
You have made her
feel useless in her own house.
Now she is at my house
laying face down in a puddle
of her own self-esteem.
Pull her out before she drowns!
I breast-fed my Bobby.
Big mistake.
(Hank sighs)
Bobby...
I need you to do two things
I pray you'll
never have to do again.
Tape the Cowboys' game
and give me an apron.
Hello, Peggy.
I'm sorry I'm so
under dressed, Hank.
I see you and Bobby
decided to go formal.
No, I sent Bobby
to the neighbors
but first, we whipped up
some of our favorite dishes.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Fried pork chops?
Frito pie with Wolf-brand chili?
Spa-Peggy with meatballs?
And a half a bottle
of our wedding wine.
You don't even need me
to make spa-Peggy?
Nope, I guess not
but that's okay.
I didn't marry you
because I need someone
to cook and clean for me.
I married you because...
you know...
you know...
The love.
Oh, Hank!
Mmm, your hair smells
much better now.
Like stuffing.
[Captioned by
the Media Access Group
at WGBH]
(loud munching)
Bobby, this is the best
Thanksgiving dinner I ever had.
Ooh-hoo-ooh,
let's do the wishbone!
This is for a million dollars.
(laughing)
Okay.
I won! I won!
You owe me a million dollars!
DALE:
Correction:
You owe me a million dollars.
I'm so sorry, Bobby,
he made me do it!
It was all a setup.
(Bill crying)
HANK:
Bo, that cheese. Mm.
FOX BROADCASTING COMPANY
and TWENTIETH CENTURY FOX
TELEVISION]
(grunts)
Bobby Hill,
what are you doing?
I'm ironing underwater.
Blurp, blurp, blurp.
Don’t test me, young man.
I've failed
funnier kids than you.
All right, children
irons down.
With the help
of Ernie the janitor
I have soiled each of these
cheerleader uniforms.
Your take-home exam
is to identify and remove
the mystery stain
and here's one
for our class clown.
Oh, wait, let
me give you
some extra credit.
If it's Monday night,
it must be
Frito pie
with Wolf-brand chili.
I made it just the way
you like it... perfect.
Come on, Bobby, it's Frito pie
with Wolf-brand chili night.
What the?
There better be
a naked cheerleader
under your bed.
Don’t get mad, but I think
I'm going to fail Home Ec.
Well, of course
you're failing Home Ec...
you're a guy.
Did you know your son
is taking Home Ec?
(sighs)
They got him playing
with skirts!
If Bobby learns to cook
and clean for himself
what's his motivation
to ever get married?
Home Ec is not going to
turn Bobby into a sissy.
In prison movies, the
toughest characters
always work
in the kitchen.
I wouldn't
worry, Hank.
When I was the, uh
varsity football
towel manager
I cleaned 50
jockstraps a week.
I turned out okay.
(sighs)
Hey, man, nice shot.
Man, hey no,
nothing but ice.
Oh, please.
When I was the, uh,
varsity football towel manager
I once slang-shot
a jockstrap
into a laundry hamper
from 50 yards away.
Betcha a million dollars
you can't do that again.
You're on!
(grunts)
Oh!
Hah!
You choked.
You owe me
a million dollars.
Choker!
(choking)
(coughing)
Uh!
(coughing)
Choker!
Dad says that men
install washing machines
they service
washing machines
but they aren’t supposed
to use washing machines.
Oh, please.
There's no rule
that says only women
can do housework
and only men can have careers.
I can do both.
I am what the magazines
call a superwoman.
I like Superwoman.
Oh, Bobby, thank you.
Now let's take a look
at your homework.
When we're done with it,
this stain is going to wish
it was still
some cheerleader's lunch.
First, you blind-side it
with pre-soak.
Then you sucker-punch it
with some hot water
andjust when
it's begging for mercy
you rip off its head
and pour bleach down its neck.
Finish it off, Bobby!
Are you going to let
that stain call you a sissy?!
No!
I know it's not even
Thanksgiving yet
but it feels
like Christmas morning.
Well, it's full
of holes
but you did get
the stains out...
mostly.
(gasps)
Uh-oh.
Bobby, these are your
father's dungarees!
(sighs)
How could you, Peggy?
Now what am I gonna carve
the turkey in... my underwear?
Not with an
electric knife, no sir.
Even world-famous surgeons
do not get it right
100% of the time.
They make
mistakes, Hank.
People die.
We are human.
(sighing)
Ms. Bittner,
I'm not going to lie to you.
I don't think I heard one thing
you've said all year
especially whatever
you said about bleach.
Can you help me fix
my dad's pants?
He can't wear one of
your clever jokes?
Please, Ms. Bittner, I've never
asked for anything from you
except more sugar.
Ooh, fancy!
Hey, Hank, how's it
going at the bank?
How the hell
should I know?
On a related
fiscal note, Bill
where's the million
bucks you owe me?
Oh, right, Dale, yeah.
Suitable for framing.
There you go...
$1 million!
I guess I'll have to sell
my private island
in the South Pacific, huh?
You never go anyway.
Dad, would you like to wear
jeans to work today?
You know I would.
Look what I got!
I got a bolt of denim
from Ms. Bittner.
I used your old jeans
as a pattern and I fired up
Mom's sewing machine.
My sewing machine?
No, it can't make seams
this straight.
Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt
to try them on.
Well, all right, Bobby!
They're perfect.
I mean, they're
a little stiff
but after I break 'em in
for a couple years
they'll be perfect.
Hang on, I picked up
a little trick in Home Ec.
I hope you don't mind...
I borrowed
your power sander.
(chuckling)
Peggy, he's right.
I can feel
the denim loosening up.
I'm glad you ruined my jeans.
Bobby's made them
even better.
(chuckling)
Bobby, eight hours
and no chafing!
I know what
I'm leading off with
in my Thanksgiving prayer.
...three, two, one, mark!
Buns in the oven!
Oh, then you're not
just sewing in Home Ec...
they've got you
cooking too, huh?
I hope you don't mind
but I opened a bottle of
your wedding wine
to marinate my pot roast.
Well, just make sure
when you're done playing
your mother has
her kitchen back.
It's Tuesday night
pork chops, you know.
Yes, Bobby,
I can handle the heat
so get out of my kitchen,
because with pork
the slightest mistake
could kill us all.
I'd like to cash this
for cash.
A thousand thousands
will be fine.
Most of the million dollar
checks we see are jokes.
Your job sounds fun.
I'm sorry, Mr. Dauterive
only has $418.75.
Okay, then give me
400 Sacagawea coins
18 Susan B. Anthonys
two North Carolina quarters
and a Utah.
Yep... tastes
like Tuesday.
Thank you, Hank.
Say, that smells
pretty good.
Thanks, Dad.
Could you sign this form
saying I cooked it myself
and that it tasted okay?
Yeah, I'll help you
with your homework.
Hank, you will spoil
your appetite.
Mm, no, no, it's okay.
Let's eat Bobby's
pot roast now
while it's still juicy.
Your pork chops will be
just as good tomorrow.
No, no, no.
Wednesday is
spa-Peggy and meatballs day.
You can't have pork chops
on Wednesday.
That would throw off
the whole rotation.
(chuckling):
Wednesday.
You would not have
believed it, Nancy.
He ate
that pot roast like...
like it was
my pork chops
and my pork chops
were sitting right there!
What you need, sug,
is an unfair advantage.
It's the library's,
so try not to get
anything on it.
A homemaking magazine?
Oh, no, no thank you,
I have never needed to...
Well, that is the most beautiful
Thanksgiving centerpiece
I have ever seen.
Hey, Peggy.
Uh, why's the table
covered with yard waste?
Hank, it is not yard waste.
Or it will not be
when I get through with it.
It will be our new stunning
Thanksgiving centerpiece...
made entirely of yard waste!
Ew, don't touch it, Bobby.
Those nests could be
full of fleas and ticks.
Not if you take the birds out.
They'll build
another nest.
They're not just going to let
their eggs
sit there on the sidewalk.
(grunting in pain)
Okay, Ernst is done
removing the parasites
but he cannot comb out
the dark sadness
that entangles you.
What's up with that?
Ernst, imagine
if the man you loved
found someone else
to cook for him,
and clean for him
and make his pants.
Who is this other woman?
The other woman is my son.
He may be getting
an A in Home Ec
but at what cost, huh?
At what cost to me?
Cooking and cleaning
and sewing...
I did not hear you
mention the boudoir.
I can think of many things
to be done there for Hank.
Well, I am
an excellent lover.
And Ernst is an excellent
hairstylist.
Together let us
take your husband places
from our wildest dreams!
Sorry, sir, but you have
more food than money.
Okay, I don't need
cling wrap.
This is my whole
Thanksgiving dinner
and who am I kidding
there aren't going to be
any leftovers!
(chuckling)
Um, you're still over.
Oh.
But, but...
you can't take my turkey.
(sighs)
Still over.
This circular saw cozy
fits great, son
but can we call it
something else?
Hey, how about
a circular saw buddy?
You name it
and I'll knit it!
Hey, Peggy!
Bobby made me
a circular saw buddy.
Whoa, your hair looks great.
It's so big.
Well, I hope it's not too tall
to get through
the bedroom door, Hank.
Well, the doorway's got
a seven-foot clearance.
BOBBY:
Dinner!
When it got to be 5:00
and you weren't home
I asked Bobby
to whip something up.
Well, that's a good idea.
The sooner we eat
the sooner we can
get to... dessert.
(suggestive growl)
I think Bobby made pie.
Ugh, I probably should've
stopped at seconds.
I'm not usually
a big fan of cheese
but boy, the things
Bobby does with it...
I have an idea how we can
burn off some calories, Hank.
(nauseated groan)
What's wrong?
Is Bobby's cooking
coming up on you?
I think it's all that
beauty stuff in your hair.
It kind of has
that new car smell.
Boy, that cheese! Mm!
(retching and coughing)
Hank, what is going on?
(coughing)
The fumes coming off your hair
keep waking me up.
You don't smell like
a new car.
I just said that
to make you feel better.
Bobby, put away your robot
and go to bed.
I need the couch.
Your father’s feeling ill.
I think it was
something he ate.
Why don't you just
take my bed?
I've got a lot of work
to do out here.
Agh! Was this ever
an outdoor couch?
Okay, fine,
I will sleep in your bed
right under your boogerwall.
I thought I heard
an upholstery shampooer.
Maybe you could use that thing
to get the smell
out of your mother's side
of the bed.
Have you seen her?
She was looking for
a place to sleep
so I let her have my bed.
Well, where are
you going to sleep?
I'll just crash on the couch.
It's still a little wet
but it gives me an excuse
to sleep in my poncho.
No, no, your mother's bed
is empty.
Why don't you just
bunk with me in
the big bedroom?
I'll make caramel popcorn!
I'll turn on the TV.
It's such a clear night
we might be able to pick up
the news from San Antonio.
Their sports guy played for
the Oilers for a year.
I didn't know your bed
was made of two little beds.
Well, your mother
likes her mattress firm
and I like mine
extra firm.
So I guess it's true,
opposites attract.
Check it out...
the weather girl
is looking at
the wrong camera.
(patronizing laugh)
San Antonio.
And it's going
to rain tomorrow.
(laughter)
Why would anyone
live there?
You know who'd
get a kick out of this?
Ladybird!
Come here, girl!
(sobbing)
HANK:
That Miss Piggy balloon
has the same hairdo
as your mother.
Hey, Peggy.
Well, maybe for you it is.
Oh, I was expecting you to say,
"Good morning."
So...
did you sleep well?
Not really.
Bobby and I were up
all night talking...
really, really talking.
(muffled scream)
(gasps)
So, that's where it went.
Perfect!
Hank, come in here, quick!
Look what I found
in Bobby's bed.
Mm-hmm, it's a
ladies' magazine
and that is
not my opinion.
It says so right
in the title.
You were right
about Home Ec, Hank...
it's ruining Bobby.
Every perfume ad has been
scratched and sniffed
and his horoscope says
that this is a
good week for him
to meet the man
of his dreams.
If you ask me, Hank,
that boy ain't right.
Bobby, get in here. Now.
What's up, Dad?
Son, do you think
you could make
this buttermilk-
basted turkey?
Well, that recipe
takes 24 hours.
Good thing I started on it
last night.
(chuckling)
I just thought
you were getting up
to use the bathroom a lot.
You know what?
Let's have Bobby
handle the whole meal.
What?!
But-but every year I...
This year the only thing
you have to do is get hungry.
Just kick back on the couch
now that it's fit to sit on.
BOBBY:
Oh, Dad...
where's the turkey platter?
I want to start
on the radish roses.
It's in the garage,
in a box marked:
"Winter holiday poultry
serving dishes."
Here, I'll help you
find it.
Mom, you mind
popping my bird in?
Don’t worry, the racks are set
and the oven's
already preheated.
It's idiot-proof.
They do not deserve us.
Oh... boxed in!
Did I fix my roof
in the last few days?
Well, it still looks
pretty bad, so maybe.
Why?
I can't buy any
Thanksgiving food
because my bank account is empty
and... and I can't remember
what I spent it on.
It's empty because I
cashed your check, Bill
which did not clear for
the full million dollars.
But that check was a joke,
just like the bet.
It was a joke...
I laughed.
We had a legitimate
oral contract
entered into fully and freely
when I said, "Betcha"
and you said, and I
quote, "You're on."
Dale, stop talking
like a lawyer
and give Bill his money back.
What's the point?
Bill would
probably just go
and spend it on
something stupid,
like himself.
Peggy?
Oh, I see my haircut
was a success!
Your Hank, he ravaged
you last night, yes?
Tell me, what did
you do to him?
I stole his turkey
is what I did.
I would rather share it
with a man who needs me
a man who is also alone
on Thanksgiving
because of the stigma
society attaches
to his unconventional
sexual appetites.
Get in here,
you drama queen.
Tell me, tell me, who
is this mystery man?
Who the hell is she?
Peggy Hill,
this is my wife Claudia
and my little angel Brett.
You have a family
that loves you?
(crying)
(phone rings)
Hank Hill.
Happy Thanksgiving.
ERNST (on phone):
Hank, this is Ernst.
I hope you're sitting down
for the bombshell
I am about to drop.
Last chance to sit.
Is this about the smell
in Peggy's hair?
This is not about some smell
that you are imagining.
Peggy is here with your turkey.
They are both
bruised and broken.
HANK:
Son of a gun!
Your mother took the turkey and
ran off to her hairdresser's.
You have made her
feel useless in her own house.
Now she is at my house
laying face down in a puddle
of her own self-esteem.
Pull her out before she drowns!
I breast-fed my Bobby.
Big mistake.
(Hank sighs)
Bobby...
I need you to do two things
I pray you'll
never have to do again.
Tape the Cowboys' game
and give me an apron.
Hello, Peggy.
I'm sorry I'm so
under dressed, Hank.
I see you and Bobby
decided to go formal.
No, I sent Bobby
to the neighbors
but first, we whipped up
some of our favorite dishes.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Fried pork chops?
Frito pie with Wolf-brand chili?
Spa-Peggy with meatballs?
And a half a bottle
of our wedding wine.
You don't even need me
to make spa-Peggy?
Nope, I guess not
but that's okay.
I didn't marry you
because I need someone
to cook and clean for me.
I married you because...
you know...
you know...
The love.
Oh, Hank!
Mmm, your hair smells
much better now.
Like stuffing.
[Captioned by
the Media Access Group
at WGBH]
(loud munching)
Bobby, this is the best
Thanksgiving dinner I ever had.
Ooh-hoo-ooh,
let's do the wishbone!
This is for a million dollars.
(laughing)
Okay.
I won! I won!
You owe me a million dollars!
DALE:
Correction:
You owe me a million dollars.
I'm so sorry, Bobby,
he made me do it!
It was all a setup.
(Bill crying)
HANK:
Bo, that cheese. Mm.