Married with Children (1986–1997): Season 6, Episode 2 - She's Having a Baby: Part 2 - full transcript

Peggy and Marcy's constant demands for belly rubbing and expensive baby accessories drive Al crazy, prompting him to make a run for it. He and Jefferson end up at a bar connected to the bus...

Last week on
Married With Children,

Marcie had a little
announcement:

Jefferson and I are pregnant.

Oh! Oh-ho-ho, Marcie...

Al was the first to
congratulate the happy couple.

Yeah, Al was happy until:

I'm pregnant too.

The family rejoiced together.

Bad Daddy.

Bad, bad, bad. Bad.

As if what you did
wasn't bad enough...



but with our mother,
for God's sake.

Jefferson is the
perfect husband.

Here it is. I drove 50 miles,

holding it up so the cherries
didn't settle on the bottom.

And Al couldn't do
enough for Peggy.

Al, get me some water.

And now, "Married With
Even More Children" continues.

Hey, here's
something interesting.

For just $49.95

us dads can buy Buckle-on Baby.

You get a 50-pound sack
of fluid to strap on your belly

to experience the
wonder of childbearing

and...

the excruciating
pain of a hernia



for one low price.

Well, I don't know
about you kids,

but, uh, I'm really happy
about the new baby.

The gods must be on a roll, huh?

Must be playing another
round of "Can you top this?"

One started out, "Make
him a shoe salesman."

Another one said, "Let's
give him a redhead."

Another one... probably
a cruel, hung-over god

said, "I know, I know.

Let's have him not
eat, yet not starve."

Yes, Daddy, but the gods
showed you they loved you

when they gave you us.

Well, give them gods a Miller.

Can someone please tell
me how this happened?

Well, Dad...

when the ovum is embedded

securely in the
wall of the uterus...

the sperm, after about two
or three days of swimming,

if properly positioned,

penetrates the wall of the egg.

And then the stork
comes, and it's a baby.

Bud, in all matters,

except vandalism and fashion,

I want you to be in charge
of educating the baby.

Hey, you did the
crime, you do the time.

God, I feel like Exxon.

One spill, I'm paying
for it the rest of my life.

Aw, come on, Daddy,
look on the bright side.

I mean, how long could
the rest of your life be?

Come on, Kel.

Can't you see the man's
plotting his next sexcapade?

Let's finish setting
up this intercom.

What intercom? Oh.

The one Mom wants us
to put in every single room

so you can't have
one moment's peace.

Sorry, Daddy, you wet your bed,

now lie in it.

Well, I guess I'll
turn on the TV.

At least that can't
reproduce. Damn shame.

But thank God I don't have to
hear any more talk about babies.

Nanu-nanu. You're
pregnant, Mindy.

What a lovely baby.
Where'd you find it, Hoss?

What's that you say, Lassie?

Our cow just had a baby,
and you ate the placenta?

My baby...

Her baby...

El niño.

Babies declare war on Lithuania.

God, that's just how I left him.

You will never guess
where we went, Al.

To Madame Rachel,
the baby psychic.

She was amazing.

For starters,

she knew that I felt bloated,

had morning sickness,

and that my nipples hurt. Mm.

I didn't think that was
possible with innies.

Al. Don't you want to hear

what the psychic had
to say about our baby?

Oh, please, Peg, can't we hear
more about Marcie's nipples?

Well, gee, Al,

if we're so boring, then maybe

we should talk about
something that interests you.

For starters,

let's talk about

what goes through your mind

at that exciting moment

when you sell a shoe.

I always think, "How could
someone buy something

so cheap, ugly and stupid?"

But then I think, "Hell's bells,

"somebody knocked
up my neighbor,

so anything's possible."

Oh, yeah, honey.
Anything's possible,

except both of us
being satisfied after sex.

Oh, ho, ho. That was
a good one, wasn't it?

Yeah, we got your daddy good.

Come on, Al,
laugh with the baby.

No. I don't wanna.

You know, honey, if
someone didn't know you,

they'd think you
weren't happy about this.

Oh, I'm happy about it.

I mean, after all, it's
something we planned for.

No, I love the baby.
Everyone loves the baby.

God, I hate the baby.

I hate Mom.

I mean, you can't blame Dad.

He's a stupid animal.

But Mom knew what she was doing.

Uh, Kelly, is that button on?

Of course not.

One says "on"
and one says "off."

How stupid do you think I am?

Uh... well,

I for one love the baby.

What do you mean? Why
are you poking at me, gnome?

Oh. They can hear us?

I "wuv" the baby too.

And I really, really,
really love Mom.

Which damn button is on?

Why do they have to
both start with an O?

And soon there'll be three.

God.

I wish Jefferson was here.

Rub my belly.

He's my husband, and
he's rubbing my belly.

I'm not rubbing any
occupied bellies.

I'm a human being.

Oh, yeah. Soon I'll
be partying like 1999.

Isn't this nice?

You should have
Jefferson do this.

You can just feel the fatherhood

flow through you.

Al...

I don't feel the fatherhood
flowing through me.

Well, you may not have felt it,

but it's obviously there.

That's not the first time
he's said that to me.

We got him good again.

Come on, Al.
Laugh with the baby.

I don't wanna.

Besides, I don't even
think you're pregnant.

I think that's a
10-gallon can of...

Of ice cream down there.

Come on, Peg,
laugh with the ulcer.

Now, don't make the
baby hate you. Oh.

Rub.

God, he's depressing.

I want Jefferson.

So do I. So do I.

Well, at least
he'll be here soon.

He's out getting
me a wave machine.

At the baby expo,

at the "hundred
dollar and over" booth,

we learned that babies

like the sound of water.

Al, I want a wave machine.

Oh, Peg, I think the baby's
getting plenty of waves,

what with the turbulence
of the daily arrival

of your four Grand
Slam breakfasts.

Have you tried the six-
corn-dog special at Bippy's?

Ho-ho-ho. Every day
on the way on the way

to Flap Jack Johnny's.

Have you ever transported

one of Bippy's
corndogs to Johnny's

and rolled it up in a flapjack?

Oh, you mean with
the ranch dressing

and those chunky
croutons from the salad tub?

Now, that's eating.

Peg. Peg, speaking
of eating, I too enjoy...

Less talk. More rub.

So, Al...

when do I get my wave machine?

Not getting one.

But you don't even
know how much it costs.

I didn't think it was important,
since I'm not getting one.

Al, you don't want Marcie's baby

to be smarter than ours, do you?

Peg, our other kids didn't
have a wave machine,

and look how they turned out.

Mom...

Bud has more fingers than I do.

Oh. Honey, did you try
counting on both hands?

Hey.

That's not because they
didn't have a wave machine.

That's because your parents
were brother and sister.

That is not true.

They just started to look alike

when Mom's hair fell out.

Oh, come on, Al, I
want a wave machine.

It's only $329.

Oh, thank you, God.

That's exactly the price
of my socket-wrench set.

You know, this is amazing.

You are actually gonna tell me

that you would rather
spend that money

on a socket set

than on the fruit of
your loins. Well, Peg,

you know I've had my
heart set on that socket...

Oh, Al. What?

Now look what you've done.

I'm crying. And so's the baby.

Huh? What?

I'm crying too.

I hope you're happy now.

Rub our bellies!

That's it.

Hold it. Enough.

Enough. I'm getting up.

Now you see me going.

Really, Al? You're really going?

Yes, Peg. I'm really going.

Bus for Scranton
now loading, Gate 15.

Another one, buddy?

God, what a great place.

I mean, it's genius.

A bar hooked up to the
public-address system

at the bus terminal so you
don't miss your connection

for leaving your wife.

Don't forget about
the cheap bimbos.

They give the place class.

So, uh, where you headed,
pal? Oh, I don't know.

Someplace where there's
a lot of girls and no women.

Oh, L.A.

You might want to use one of
our new instant-ID machines.

It's genius.

Hair dye. Get your hair dye.

False mustaches. Bulbous noses.

Bus to Tacoma
now loading, Gate 6.

Let her try and
find me now. Ha-ha.

Hey, you want to
hear a sad story?

My wife's having another
baby, and I think it's mine.

The end.

Hey, buddy, you gonna
let go of that dollar?

Oh. I'm sorry. Here you go.

My next-door neighbor's
having a baby too.

God, what a weenie.

Even has a weenie
name: Jefferson.

Mr. Perfect Husband.

Waiting on his
ferret face of a wife.

Ah, I'll tell you
something, when that guy

rolls over in bed in the morning

and has to look at that...

Hey, Jefferson.

I was just talking about

the neighbor on the other side.

You know, the...

His name is Jefferson.

He's having a baby too.

What do you think about that?

So, what are you doing here?

Yeah, I'm running like a
river when the snow melts.

It was the baby expo, Al.

It broke me.

You should have seen it.

It was nothing but acres of fat,

pregnant women wearing...

Keds.

Why are you running, Al?

Can you look at me
and seriously ask that?

You don't take an oxen

working with his
yoke for 20 years,

take the yoke off, and then say:

"Oh, Just kidding.

"Here's a heavier
yoke for you, old fella.

Toss it on and rub my belly."

Yeah, you should rub
the belly I've been rubbing.

I have.

What you watching?

Nothing. I-I'm just listening
to Mom eat on the intercom.

Is there anything
left for us to eat?

Oh, sure, Kel. Why don't
you go up and stick your hand

through the door,
and see what happens.

Well, I can see that the only
chance of me getting any food,

love or attention anymore

is if the baby comes
out looking like you.

But then again,
what are the chances

of Mom having two
circus monkeys?

Why, the odds must be...

one in nine. Mm.

Excuse me, is there
anybody down there?

My bucket o' tapioca is empty.

Oh, Bud, look what we've become.

Pudding slaves to Mount Mom.

Yeah. I don't know how
Dad can put up with it.

After all he's been through,

he's actually out doing
something nice for Mom.

Well, good. Then
he'll be home soon,

and he can fill her trough.

You wanna go to a movie?

I can't.

You know, I checked
that box under my bed.

Someone stole all my money.

Al.

Al.

Al.

Look, just because we're
leaving our pregnant wives alone

to fend for themselves
without a cent in the world,

that doesn't make us
bad people, does it?

Heck, no.

Many is the great
American before us

who have skipped
out on the needy.

Take, for example, The Rifleman.

He knew not to
hang out with his wife.

You know, I always suspected

that's who he was
blowing to smithereens

before the start of each show.

You know, Al,
I've been thinking.

I mean, I'm almost done
with her first trimester.

What if the worst is over,
and it's all good from now on,

and we miss out on it?

What?

You know, I'm finally starting
to understand how she got you.

Let me explain something to you.

There is no such
thing as a trimester.

There's actually just one
long 40-year "mester."

Course, uh, then
when they get pregnant,

it turns into what I
call the "mini-mester."

Now, that's... You
got your fat-mester,

you're... You got
your puke-mester.

And Lord help us, you
got your horny-mester.

That's when I left.

So, Al...

where you gonna go to?

Somewhere where shoe
men run wild and free

in the big sky.

Where never is heard
an impregnated word,

and the hooters are
uncovered all day.

That's beautiful,
Al. That's beautiful.

Monocles, family trees, gum.

Gentlemen, would you
like to be somebody?

Your shirt.

Um...

Uh, how much for

an ex-football player
with a cool name?

Two hundred dollars.

Uh... What can I get for a buck?

A shoe salesman named Al.

Give me some gum.

There you go. Hey.

Hey. I'll pick my own name, huh?

My new name will be, um...

Bazooka Joe.

Damn. I wish I'd thought of that

before I decided on
Anheuser-Busch. Mm.

Yep. The Buschmeister's
going to Seattle.

Yeah.

Join up with some friends
that have a lobster boat.

And I'm gonna be
the mighty fisherman.

How about you, Al? Hm.

Going to L.A. Gonna be the
big white hooter hunter. Ha.

God, life is gonna be great.

Yep.

Bus to Seattle now
leaving, Gate 11.

Well...

back to the wives?

Yep, back to the wives.

If she has another baby
in the next 18 years,

I swear, I'm going. Me too.

Um.

I'm going home.

Can I have my dollar back?

Here's five. Take a cab.

Five?

Can I have some change?

Oh, hi, honey.

Come lay beside me.

There is no beside you, Peg.

Watch the cookies, honey.

So...

you went to the
bus station, huh?

How'd you know?

Marcie has Jefferson miked.

Hi, Marcie, I'm home.

You look beautiful.

Thank you...

Anheuser.

You just couldn't
leave, could you?

I knew you wouldn't be able to.

You love your little
Pooh Bear, don't you?

Pooh.

You do. Ah.

You do.

I really don't.

So, Al...

what's in the bag?

Your socket set, huh? Ha-ha-ha.

Oh, well.

You know, if one of

our children grew
up to be a success,

who would the street
sweepers of tomorrow be?

Oh, Al...

a wave machine.

Oh, you do care, don't you?

Peg, touch me with
even one lip, I take it back.

You know, honey, the
only reason I wanted this

is so that at least
one of our children

would have every
opportunity in life.

I mean, you saw
what not having one

did for the other two.

Ah, what a pair of misfits.

Hey, do you know, Peg,

the baby's already got
one up on the other two.

Yeah, he's already
smarter than Kelly.

And he's closer to a
woman than Bud will ever be.

What a pair of losers.

Uh, honey,

are you sure that
intercom is turned off?

Sure, I'm sure it's off.

There's an "on" switch
and an "off" switch.

Why, how dumb do you think I am?