Married with Children (1986–1997): Season 7, Episode 17 - You Can't Miss - full transcript

Peg, it's getting kind of late.

Shouldn't you be getting to bed?

I'm not goin' to
sleep without you.

We haven't been to
bed at the same time

in 10 years.

And you notice we haven't
had any more children

in 10 years.

So I must be doing
something right.

Honey, just because we had kids

doesn't mean you
were doing anything right

back then either.



Oh, you're sexy when you
neuter me that way, Peg.

Oh, come on, Al.

We could have fun
goin' to bed together.

You know, doin' those
things we used to do.

Like you rubbing my
tushy till I go to sleep.

Oh, that's what
we can do, honey.

Aw, come on.

My tushy is yearning for you.

♪ I wanna be Rubbed by you ♪

♪ Just you ♪

♪ And nobody else But you ♪

Peg, I wouldn't rub your tushy

if Robin Williams
popped out of it

and offered me three wishes.



Well, I'm not goin'
to sleep without you.

Hm.

You know, Peg, I'm, uh...

I'm a little worried about you.

You look exhausted.

Now, did you have those
lines in your face this morning?

It... breaks my heart, Peg.

You look 100.

Now, why don't you
get a good night's sleep

and you'll wake up
lookin' not a day older

than my grandmother.

Oh, my God, we
stayed up till dawn.

Hey, why are you two
up at the same time?

Oh, I know. Don't tell me.

Bud had a nightmare, and
he crawled into your bed

and he went potty.

Honey, Bud is 20 years
old and it's Saturday night.

Now, you know very
well that he's fast asleep

and has been since 8:00.

Oh, and by the way, Al,

did you go in and
turn off his flashlight?

Hey, I wouldn't...

I wouldn't stick my hand
under those covers...

Oh, my God...

If you know what I mean.

Now, now. Let's
just keep it down.

We don't wanna wake him up.

He'll come down and wanna
talk about his problems.

Hey,

Bud was out on a Saturday night.

How did it go, son?

Aww, Bud.

It's 3 a.m.,

you must have
something to tell us.

Yes, Bud, tell
us of your travels

in lonely land.

Well, aging maritime toy...

I went where all cool guys go.

I headed over to the
Chippendales parking lot

and waited for the horny
old ladies to come out.

Then I took off my shirt

and started gyrating
under a lamppost.

Did you get any, son?

Yup. A face full of Mace

and a spinning
back kick to the groin.

But, uh, I think on the way down

I did manage to get a
fistful of withered heinie.

Al, give Bud a high-five.

Nah, can't do it, Peg.

If I could fake it that good,

we'd be upstairs right now.

All right. Now, here's the plan.

Bud will be home soon.

When he comes in,

we are gonna pretend
that it's Sunday night.

That way when he has
no date, he won't feel bad.

You know, 'cause everyone
stays home on Sunday.

Even cool people like us.

Yeah.

Look, why don't we just
get him some starving

Third World babe.

You know, like a
mail-order bride.

If we stuff her with burgers,

she might even stay for a week.

I mean, ah,

how long do you really
want one, anyway?

Well, why can't we just
let it happen naturally?

Some people are
just late bloomers.

I myself was a late bloomer.

Well, whatever bloomed
must have got picked...

'cause I'm lookin' at
some mighty arid country.

Al, we are talkin'
about our son.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I thought I was lookin' at him.

Al, you've got a dilemma.

We're pretending it's Sunday,

so theoretically you should
be changing your underwear.

Oh, or is this the week
you turn it inside out

and wear the clean side?

It's a big decision

because it also involves
taking off your shoes.

Come on, honey.

Now, look like it's Sunday.

That's right.

That says Sunday better
than skippin' church.

Hey, where's Bud?

I wanted to tell him that
I've got a big date tonight.

I love ruining his
Saturday nights.

Oh, my God, it's Sunday?

I gotta be at work.

How did I lose a day?

I must have magnesia.

What did Gilligan do
when he had magnesia?

Oh, my God, I don't remember.

Gadzooks, I'm losing my
short-term mammaries.

What's goin' on? The old,

"Let's convince Bud it's
Sunday, to mask his shame"

routine?

Well, Dad,

before you hurriedly
change your underwear,

I think you guys
should meet my date.

Why, she's just
lovely, isn't she?

She must really like you, Bud.

Going out on a Sunday, and all.

Yep.

No need takin' chances, eh, Bud?

Look, you morons,

this is not another
imaginary date.

I was gonna turn on the TV.

'Cause that's
where you'll see her.

He had it bad for Ginger,
but now he likes Mary Ann.

Hush, fossils, and watch.

Thank you. Thank you
and hi. I'm Adam Gold,

and I'll bet my
natural mother's sorry

she put me up for adoption
now, aren't you, Mom?

Thank you. Anyway,
welcome to You Can't Miss!

The show that guarantees that
one of our manly contestants...

can't miss.

So let's meet the guys.

Now, remember the rules:
Only guys who have had sex

two times or less are eligible.

How can we prove it?

Well...

wait till you see 'em.

Anyway, let's
meet our first hunk.

He's a crossing guard
from Skokie, Illinois:

Henry Fudderman.

Henry, tell us how many
times you've scored.

Once.

Okay, once.

All right, let's
meet our next hunk.

He's a movie usher
from Baraboo, Wisconsin:

Eugene Smelt.

Eugene, tell us how many
times you've done the deed.

One and a half, Adam.

But I'm not sure about the one.

Okay, Eugene.

And our final he-man is
an A student from Chicago

and the only one of our
hunks who still lives at home:

Bud Bundy.

Okay, Bud, fill us in. How
many times have you had sex?

Uh, with actual people?

Two, Adam.

Wow...

On the show, they
actually believed that.

Welcome back to the show.

And now it's time to meet
tonight's luscious tramp.

Say hi to Candy Lapinski.

Hi, Candy. It's great
to have you with us.

Yeah, right.

Now, the rules to our
show are as easy as Candy.

After a brief
question-and-answer period,

Candy will have to select a date

from among our three stallions.

Now, for you viewers
who may be wondering why

a woman like this would go
out with one of these losers,

The answer is very simple:

We give her $1000.

And next week
after her dream date,

she'll have the opportunity
to go to Bermuda

with either one
of our three nerds,

or... our very own Rodrigo.

I love you all.

Okay, Candy, it's question time.

Now, what is
your first question?

Number one,

how would you build
the perfect woman?

U-Uh, let's see.

Uh, she'd have my mother's eyes,

and my mother's breasts,

and my father's...

Yucko.

Number two?

I already have built
the perfect woman...

Out of gummy bears.

You wanna see?

Uh, number three?

Well, Candy,

as far as I'm concerned,
you are the perfect woman.

And I'm the perfect man.

So, what say we
cut the preliminaries

and create the perfect
simultaneous big-O.

Well, Candy, what
do ya think about that?

Can I see Rodrigo again?

Ooh, and that means
we're out of time.

So it's decision
time for you, Candy.

Who's it gonna be?

Hunk-a-rama number one,

number two,

Or number three?

Number three.

Yes!

Candy, meet your
date, Bud Bundy.

Dad, look where I am.

Like I give a damn
what you think.

I've got a date with
her next Saturday night,

and you'll be with each other.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

I'm late for work. Oh, God. Ohh.

Listen, if my boss
calls, for God's sakes

don't tell him I forgot
what day it was.

I don't wanna get a
"stupid" rep, you know?

It's not good for my
image as a waitress.

You know, I wish somebody
would think to write down

all the days in a row
on a big piece of paper,

so you know what day it is.

Jesus.

Yeah, maybe even put the
month on it, you know, like...

Like a calendar or something.

Come to bed, Al.

We haven't slept for days.

I am not going...

to bed, unless you go with me.

And you, my friend,

are getting sleepy.

Look how heavy those
eyelids are getting.

It won't work, Peg.

'Cause much like
the rest of your body...

your lids are drooping
more than mine.

You're drifting.

You're getting sleepy.

This has been the
worst Sunday of my life.

And Wednesday, which
I thought was Tuesday,

was no picnic either.

I'm tellin' you, something's up.

It's Sunday...

but I saw the mailman.

So I picked up a newspaper.

Said it was Saturday.

I got suspicious,

so I went to church.

Nobody was there.

Which makes me think I'm right.

It is Sunday.

And yet, Meet the Press,

which I watch religiously,

wasn't on.

I'm telling you, it's
a giant conspiracy.

You know, like who killed
that movie president guy, Jifk.

The church, the
feds, the networks,

they're all in on it.

But I'll get 'em.

The same way J. Edgar
Hoover got everybody,

by wearing a red dress.

Well, I'm back from
my game-show date.

Did you get any, son?

No.

But I'll be gettin' plenty soon,

'cause it'll be me and Candy,
on the dandy, sandy Caribbean.

All that's left is we have
to go back on the show,

and she chooses between me

and that latent Latin, Rodrigo.

Uh, Honey,

I have been chosen

to sensitively
broach the question

which is on all our lips:

What on God's green
earth would make you think

that anyone,
including your mother,

would choose you over Rodrigo?

I-I'd choose Rodrigo.

Hell, I'd choose Rodrigo.

Hell, I'd choose Rodrigo
over your mother.

And now, welcome
to You Can't Miss!

Hey, this isn't supposed
to be on tonight.

I'll just write them down
in my conspiracy book...

right after Robin Leach.

Hi again, I'm Adam Gold.
And we're here tonight to see

something we've waited
a whole week to find out.

Who will huge-knockered
airhead, Candy Lapinski,

pick for her pleasure cruise:

Bud Bundy or our
own, beautiful Rodrigo?

Yeah, there's a
tough call. Huh, folks?

Candy, haul it
on out here for us.

Candy, you make a lovely couple.

Now, Candy, you remember Bud.

No.

'Course not.

Okay, Bud. Good luck to you.

Candy, your choice please,

and then you and Rodrigo
can be off to the Caribbean.

Hold your lousy
consolation prize,

you poor man's Chuck Woolery.

Now, before the lovely
Candy makes her decision,

I have something to say to her.

Well, talk about The
Little Engine That Could.

Well, go for it, big guy.

But remember, no woman
has ever not chosen... Rodrigo.

Enough, crones.

You too, Mom.

Candy,

this is all I have to say:

Let's talk about women and
the wrong choices they make.

This...

is the wrong choice.

And I'll tell you why.

He'll treat you like dirt.

He'll disappear for days.

He'll lie to you,
he'll cheat on you...

everything I would
do if I looked like him.

But I'm here for
the duration, baby.

And the best thing about me is:

I've never had
anybody as good as you.

He has.

You know I haven't.

Eh, and you don't have to
worry about where I've been...

'cause I'm a two-time-or-less.

It's up to you:

Two minutes with a
god who will dump you,

or a lifetime with a guy

who will worship
you as a goddess.

Your choice is clear.

I'll take Rodrigo.

Enjoy your car wax, punk.

Hey, who wants to see
some of my car wax?

I won it for making
an ass out of myself

in front of 20 million people.

Cool, huh?

Bud, I can't believe it.

You've got messages...

from girls. A whole bunch. Look.

Uh, y-you were so pathetic on TV

that you actually
touched people.

Pretty girls all over
town want you bad.

Hi, Bud. I saw you on TV.

Choose me. No.

Choose me and I'll hurt you
more than any of these girls.

Wait, wait.

It 's not just women who
make the wrong choices.

I think you're gorgeous.

You're my Rodrigo. Choose me.

She'll hurt you,
I'll be good to you.

She'll cheat on
you, I'll be faithful.

She'll spend your money,

you can spend mine.

I'll worship you because...

I know how great you are,

inside and out.

What's your choice?

Mm!

Let's go.