Mike & Molly (2010–2016): Season 5, Episode 5 - Molly's Neverending Story - full transcript
That's it.
Hold that son of a bitch closer.
Come on, change.
Damn you, change!
Oh, just get new batteries.
This is not your fight, Joyce.
VINCE: Let the man be.
There's two things I
never question him on...
how to handle a remote,
and how long to warm a piece of pie.
There.
I can lick another two
months out of these batteries.
MOLLY: I did it!
(laughing gleefully): I
finished! I finished the book!
If the only copy wasn't on
this laptop, I would spike it!
(whooping)
Hey! Hey!
Good for you.
Way to go.
Congratulations.
Okay, where is the love?
You did the wave when
Vince got out of jury duty.
Honey, this is the fifth time
you've finished that book,
only to go back for another rewrite.
First time, we did a conga line.
Second time, you woke us
up at 3:00 in the morning
to sing, "She's a Molly Good Fellow."
Fourth time... was that when she wanted
to fire Mike's police pistol in the air?
Well, I didn't really want to shoot it.
I just wanted to, you know,
wave it around in the air.
You, little lady, are
the girl who cried "book."
All right, I admit it, there
has been a couple false alarms,
but this time I am serious.
I am finished.
- You're sure?
- Yes.
Look me in the eye and say it.
Feed it, burp it and put it to
bed, 'cause this baby's done.
(laughs)
- That's my girl.
- Aw...
I'll get the champagne.
Congratulations, sweetie.
I'm proud of you.
I can't remember all the nice things I said
the third time you were
done, but I mean it.
Well, thank you.
And this rewrite was a doozy.
I took two characters
and merged them into one.
And, you know, they were male and a female,
so I had to choose the gender
and then switch all the pronouns... ugh.
You know, it would have been
easier if you just combined them
into one of them LGBLTs.
Well...
Okay, Vince, you can't just...
Hey...
No.
I don't have a transgender character.
No, you don't need one.
I read your book, at first
because I felt I had to,
but then I really liked it.
Ooh, but this will make it so much better.
Don't worry, this will
not be a big rewrite.
I will be shooting that gun off in no time.
Flag on the play... jackass
here gave her an idea.
How the hell was I supposed to know
I was gonna say something insightful?
What are you doing?
Oh, don't worry... I bought a case.
This turned out to be a fun drinking game.
♪ La, la-ba-dee-da ♪
♪ La, la-ba-dee-da ♪
♪ For the first time in my life ♪
♪ I see love ♪
♪ I see love ♪
♪ For the first time in my life ♪
♪ I see love ♪
♪ I see love. ♪
Have you been working all night?
Don't bother, she can't hear you.
She's in a zone.
Here, watch this.
That's not really a
birthmark on your leg...
I dropped a cigarette in your crib.
See?
I mean, I'm telling her stuff
I was saving for my deathbed.
- Hey!
- Hey!
Hey! Good morning, sunshine.
Mike, I was writing.
- You're always writing.
- That's true.
I come home from drinking, you're writing.
I get up to smoke a bowl, you're writing.
Honey, you have a serious problem.
I don't have a problem.
And I'm so close to being done.
I even have a title.
Mm, she never had a title before.
That's just bargaining.
She'll do anything to
score a couple more days.
Let her talk.
So, what's your title?
Well, I wanted something succinct,
but still, you know, to convey passion.
So what do you think
about, Within Her Walls?
I love it.
That's great.
Print and send.
Uh, I...
It just scares me that you all like it.
Why?
Well, I love you all, but
you're way too supportive.
I mean, "You're brilliant,"
"You're amazing,"
"You can't go wrong... " (babbles)
What am I supposed to do with that?
I mean, all this love
and support is exactly why
I sent my book to your mom.
Molly, are you nuts?
I grew up with her criticism, it's brutal.
Her words don't just cut,
they burrow in and lay eggs.
I know, and that's exactly
what I'm looking for.
Mike, I don't need a pat on the
back, I need a kick in the ass.
And Peggy's not afraid
to give it to me good.
"Give it to me good."
Now that's a great title.
It's a little on the nose.
"A little on the nose"?
That's even better.
(doorbell rings twice)
Hey, Peggy, did you get a chance...
Oh.
I'm sorry.
Am I interrupting your, um, coven?
It's my church book group,
but you're not far off.
Joan used to be a Methodist.
Lutheran.
That's between you and God.
I'm not the one who has to forgive you.
Nice to meet you.
- No, come on in.
- Oh.
This is my daughter-in-law, Molly.
The writer.
ALL: Oh...
Your book is very blue.
Wait, you let them read it?
Sure.
This is right in their wheelhouse.
Mickey was married eight times,
Joan slept with a lady once,
and Rose shacked up with
an Indian for 30 years.
Not the casino kind, the 7-Eleven kind.
You know what they say...
there's nothing a Hindu won't do.
(laughing)
Well, Peggy, I don't know if
my book was ready for this.
It was just for friends and family and you.
Too late... these gals ate it up.
Oh, like the way Milly
in your book gobbled up
that stuttering pool boy.
He wasn't a stutterer.
He was just nervous 'cause
his step-aunt was giving him
the old "crooked corkscrew."
Where I'm from, we called
it the "little Jack Horner."
You mean the "randy hitchhiker."
We're all saying the same thing.
I... I don't know that we are.
Well, then you might want to take notes.
These old buzzards talk fast and
don't remember a word they say.
(chuckles)
I like your outfit.
Are you the lady-dabbler?
Yeah? Okay.
I'll take the scrambled
eggs, he'll have the oatmeal.
I don't feel like oatmeal today.
But it's Monday.
I know what day it is.
I want to hear the specials.
Since when?
In all the time I've known you,
it's been "Oatmeal Monday,"
"Egg Whites Tuesdays,"
"Corn Flakes Wednesdays,"
"Turkey Bacon Thursdays,"
and "Fresh Fruit So You
Eat Half My Omelet Friday."
I'm branching out.
Let's hear 'em.
Well, there's the salmon Benedict,
uh, bacon quiche, vegetable frittata...
You know what, I really don't
feel comfortable with this.
What is your hang-up?
A man wants to try something different.
What are you so scared of?
Maybe because there are
few certainties in life,
and your stomach is one of them.
Mm-hmm, like a
lactose-intolerant Swiss watch.
Believe me, I didn't come to
this new way of thinking easily.
I was reading something the other day...
Uh... he's reading, too.
It was in Molly's book.
It's all about trying new
things, giving up control,
and losing yourself in the experience.
- That was in Molly's book?
- Yeah.
I mean, the chapter was about
a lady taking on three guys,
but you can apply that to breakfast food.
You been applying any of
that new adventurous nature
into the bedroom?
Oh, God, no.
It's still lights off, T-shirt on.
But I will say... the other night,
my T-shirt rolled up, I
didn't pull it back down.
You know something, I
will have that frittata.
I like your style.
I'll have the oatmeal.
You say "engorged" quite a bit.
It's a good word, but I
feel like it can be overused.
You're right, okay, you're right.
But it does paint a picture.
You could use "swollen,"
"enlarged," "full," "inflamed."
"Inflamed" sounds like there's
something wrong with it.
Like it's discolored, or there's a rash.
All right, ladies, she has a thesaurus.
Let's give her something concrete.
A... are there any moments where
you thought it went too far?
Oh, God, no.
If anything, you could go further.
I may regret asking this, but further how?
Why can't a woman get
roughed up in your book?
Uh, hair-pulling is very in right now.
ROSE: I'd try it,
but mine's already
coming out by the fistful.
I'm not really comfortable
with, you know, that rough stuff.
How can you expect your
characters to let go,
if you can't?
I did let go.
Did you read chapter seven?
It's a nude cotillion.
A naked minuet is very erotic.
I don't think she's ready for this.
No, (stammers) I am ready.
If you don't think I've gone far enough,
then... (breathes deeply)
let's hear where you think I should go.
You should delve into fantasies.
That shows where the person wants to go
but is afraid to.
I've always wanted to
make love to a centaur.
Is that the half-man, half-horse?
Yeah, I grew up on a farm.
You're a strange little bird, aren't you?
You don't know the half of it, honey.
MIKE: Molly?
In here.
I told you my mom was rough.
It wasn't your mom, it
was your mom's friends.
Her church friends?
Aw, they're a cute bunch.
No, they're not.
They are dirty, dirty birds.
They wanted me to take my
book to a dark, dark place,
so I'm just gonna stay in here
until I can remember
something sweet and innocent
like holding hands or my first kiss.
Okay, but why in the closet?
Because this is where it happened.
"Seven minutes in
heaven" with Stevie Dugan.
It was my 14th birthday party.
Father Dugan?
Not at the time.
I don't know, maybe I should
just start the whole book over,
tear it apart and build it
back up from the beginning.
You know, just rethink the whole thing.
What are you talking about?
Sweetie, you're making yourself insane.
What you wrote is great.
Yeah, but it could be better.
You know what you're doing, don't you?
This is my Super Bowl
guacamole all over again.
I can't hear that story one more time.
Well, you're gonna hear it.
Because a valuable lesson
was learned that horrible day.
Oh, when I first mixed
it up, it was delicious.
Damn near perfect.
But I thought I could
make it better, you see?
And I added more lemon,
and... and I added more peppers,
and then Vince said, "Put in salsa."
And then I panicked.
I put in olives.
And pickles.
And something called capers.
And in the end, in the end,
even flies wouldn't land on it.
You still ate it!
That is not my point!
You know what, you know what,
there's no reason to talk about it anymore.
Wh...
Mike?
Mike?!
Are you still there?
What are you doing?
Just finishing up something.
Then we're gonna go
make out in that closet.
There. Done.
What'd you do?
I did what you should have
done a couple of weeks ago.
I sent your book to your publisher.
You're welcome.
You what?
Hey. Hey.
I know you can't see it right now,
but I just saved your guacamole.
Oh, my God, you sent it.
You actually sent it.
Why would you do something like that?!
Oh, my God!
Know what this is?!
This. Is. Your. Face.
(screams)
MIKE: Oh, come...
Come on, Molly.
Look, I did it for your own good.
No, you did it for your own good.
You just wanted your
doting little wife back.
"Doting"?
Are you saying I don't
take good care of you?
Of course you do.
You just don't dote.
Why am I even talking to you?
Girls, let's go, we're going drinking.
What's the occasion?
Mike sent in my book.
- Congratulations!
- Oh! Hey!
ALL: ♪ For she's a
Molly good fellow... ♪
No, no!
No, not in a good way.
But we're still going drinking, right?
You can't un-ring that bell.
Just like you can't un-send an e-mail.
Mol, come on, your book's great.
Well, you have to say
that, you're my husband.
I said the same thing about your
crappy Super Bowl Franken-guac.
If I didn't push that button,
she would have never handed it in.
It was the right thing to do.
Obviously.
Everything worked out great.
What do you think, Harry?
Can you get the e-mail back?
That is the $64 question.
Which actually is my hourly rate.
But you're a friend, so you
can just take me to dinner.
Probably cheaper to pay him.
Listen, Harry, you get this book back
before Molly's publisher reads it,
I will chew up a prime rib and
feed it to you like a baby bird.
I can't believe you're
already backing down.
Hey, Mike Biggs does not back down.
He may, however, raise the white flag,
so he doesn't get a black eye.
You should have seen
what she did to that ball.
Well, you are a similar shape.
HARRY: Quiet, guys.
I got to get past this firewall.
Boy, this is a lot trickier than I thought.
Uh, Mike, hand me that hair clip.
This guy is locked up tight.
Give me that!
That's disgusting.
Use car keys, like a normal person.
You know, we could save
ourselves a lot of trouble
if I just sent this
publisher a Trojan virus.
The hell's that?
It's the nuclear option.
He gets an innocent little
e-mail with the subject line,
"Jessica Alba nip slip."
He's intrigued.
Curious.
He clicks it and... boom.
His hard drive is fried.
And, suddenly, he's an organ donor,
whether he likes it or not.
You know, these computers
give you freaks too much power.
The lunch tables have turned.
All right, look, no nip slips, no viruses,
and you are never
borrowing my car keys again.
Just call your publisher and
explain to him what happened.
I can't talk to him.
I've told so many lies about
why I couldn't hand the book in
that I've lost track. I'm
either admitting you to rehab
or rescuing you from a doomsday cult.
Thank you for not putting me in rehab.
Mike had no right to send that book in.
I'm the only one that
should decide when it's done.
That's true. It was your choice to make.
Even if you were never gonna send it in.
I was gonna send it in. Eventually.
M... maybe.
Probably.
What is going on with you?
Your whole life, you've always
finished what you've started.
If not on time, two
weeks before it was due.
You potty-trained yourself at 18 months.
Well, diapers were humiliating.
It was very hard being your sister.
The only thing I ever did
early was grow breasts.
I'm not sure those are done yet.
This is different. This is my first book.
This is a very big deal.
If they don't like it, it's
over. My career is done.
(sighs)
As long as I was working on
that book, I was still a writer.
But, sweetie,
don't you also want to be a written-er?
What?
Harry?
Hello!
Mike. Mike, Mike, Mike.
Harry is in our bedroom.
Oh, hey, sweetie. We were just, uh...
What were we doing?
Hacking into her publisher's computer.
What?
I want to make this right.
By hacking into his
computer? That's illegal.
Can you actually do that?
I'm already in. I've been
poking around his hard drive.
This puppy is into some sick stuff.
Threesomes, bondage, S and M.
That's my book.
Okay, well, just, uh, delete it.
Okay, wait, wait, wait.
Molly, you should only send your book in
when you're completely happy with it.
To be honest, I don't
know if I'm ever gonna be.
Well, it's your book, your call.
I don't know.
I need an answer. We're
running out of time.
Why? Is he logging in?
No, I just want to go home.
Mol, look, I know that it's scary,
but sometimes you just
got to give up control
and let what happens happen.
Where'd you get that?
That filthy, wonderful book you wrote.
All right, Harry, leave it.
We are clear.
I'll just update your Adobe Flash...
- Scram, Harry.
- You got it.
Well, I did it, Mike.
I turned in a book. It's done.
- I'm a written-er.
- (Chuckles)
I'm proud of you. Mwah.
What do you say we celebrate with
a little seven minutes in heaven?
Yeah, let's go.
(giggling)
MIKE: A little tight in here.
MOLLY: It smells like mothballs.
MIKE: How 'bout two minutes in heaven?
Here you go. Don't get
up. I just wanted to...
bring you some thank you
gifts for all of your notes.
They opened my eyes to a whole new world
I didn't want to know existed.
You're very welcome, honey.
I think I know what this is.
Nope. Candlesticks.
For decoration only.
You didn't really need their notes.
It was already a very good read.
Now you're gonna be supportive?
Where was that with me?
We got you a little something, too, doll.
Oh, you didn't have to do that.
- It's a picture from our Women's Club calendar.
- Aw.
Oh... Oh, God. Where are your clothes?
It was for charity.
For who? The blind?
Mike. It was very... thoughtful.
Just something to remember us by.
It's an image I won't forget.
- Okay, let's go.
- Yeah.
(exhales) Those women scare me.
I don't want you hanging
out with them no more.
Hold that son of a bitch closer.
Come on, change.
Damn you, change!
Oh, just get new batteries.
This is not your fight, Joyce.
VINCE: Let the man be.
There's two things I
never question him on...
how to handle a remote,
and how long to warm a piece of pie.
There.
I can lick another two
months out of these batteries.
MOLLY: I did it!
(laughing gleefully): I
finished! I finished the book!
If the only copy wasn't on
this laptop, I would spike it!
(whooping)
Hey! Hey!
Good for you.
Way to go.
Congratulations.
Okay, where is the love?
You did the wave when
Vince got out of jury duty.
Honey, this is the fifth time
you've finished that book,
only to go back for another rewrite.
First time, we did a conga line.
Second time, you woke us
up at 3:00 in the morning
to sing, "She's a Molly Good Fellow."
Fourth time... was that when she wanted
to fire Mike's police pistol in the air?
Well, I didn't really want to shoot it.
I just wanted to, you know,
wave it around in the air.
You, little lady, are
the girl who cried "book."
All right, I admit it, there
has been a couple false alarms,
but this time I am serious.
I am finished.
- You're sure?
- Yes.
Look me in the eye and say it.
Feed it, burp it and put it to
bed, 'cause this baby's done.
(laughs)
- That's my girl.
- Aw...
I'll get the champagne.
Congratulations, sweetie.
I'm proud of you.
I can't remember all the nice things I said
the third time you were
done, but I mean it.
Well, thank you.
And this rewrite was a doozy.
I took two characters
and merged them into one.
And, you know, they were male and a female,
so I had to choose the gender
and then switch all the pronouns... ugh.
You know, it would have been
easier if you just combined them
into one of them LGBLTs.
Well...
Okay, Vince, you can't just...
Hey...
No.
I don't have a transgender character.
No, you don't need one.
I read your book, at first
because I felt I had to,
but then I really liked it.
Ooh, but this will make it so much better.
Don't worry, this will
not be a big rewrite.
I will be shooting that gun off in no time.
Flag on the play... jackass
here gave her an idea.
How the hell was I supposed to know
I was gonna say something insightful?
What are you doing?
Oh, don't worry... I bought a case.
This turned out to be a fun drinking game.
♪ La, la-ba-dee-da ♪
♪ La, la-ba-dee-da ♪
♪ For the first time in my life ♪
♪ I see love ♪
♪ I see love ♪
♪ For the first time in my life ♪
♪ I see love ♪
♪ I see love. ♪
Have you been working all night?
Don't bother, she can't hear you.
She's in a zone.
Here, watch this.
That's not really a
birthmark on your leg...
I dropped a cigarette in your crib.
See?
I mean, I'm telling her stuff
I was saving for my deathbed.
- Hey!
- Hey!
Hey! Good morning, sunshine.
Mike, I was writing.
- You're always writing.
- That's true.
I come home from drinking, you're writing.
I get up to smoke a bowl, you're writing.
Honey, you have a serious problem.
I don't have a problem.
And I'm so close to being done.
I even have a title.
Mm, she never had a title before.
That's just bargaining.
She'll do anything to
score a couple more days.
Let her talk.
So, what's your title?
Well, I wanted something succinct,
but still, you know, to convey passion.
So what do you think
about, Within Her Walls?
I love it.
That's great.
Print and send.
Uh, I...
It just scares me that you all like it.
Why?
Well, I love you all, but
you're way too supportive.
I mean, "You're brilliant,"
"You're amazing,"
"You can't go wrong... " (babbles)
What am I supposed to do with that?
I mean, all this love
and support is exactly why
I sent my book to your mom.
Molly, are you nuts?
I grew up with her criticism, it's brutal.
Her words don't just cut,
they burrow in and lay eggs.
I know, and that's exactly
what I'm looking for.
Mike, I don't need a pat on the
back, I need a kick in the ass.
And Peggy's not afraid
to give it to me good.
"Give it to me good."
Now that's a great title.
It's a little on the nose.
"A little on the nose"?
That's even better.
(doorbell rings twice)
Hey, Peggy, did you get a chance...
Oh.
I'm sorry.
Am I interrupting your, um, coven?
It's my church book group,
but you're not far off.
Joan used to be a Methodist.
Lutheran.
That's between you and God.
I'm not the one who has to forgive you.
Nice to meet you.
- No, come on in.
- Oh.
This is my daughter-in-law, Molly.
The writer.
ALL: Oh...
Your book is very blue.
Wait, you let them read it?
Sure.
This is right in their wheelhouse.
Mickey was married eight times,
Joan slept with a lady once,
and Rose shacked up with
an Indian for 30 years.
Not the casino kind, the 7-Eleven kind.
You know what they say...
there's nothing a Hindu won't do.
(laughing)
Well, Peggy, I don't know if
my book was ready for this.
It was just for friends and family and you.
Too late... these gals ate it up.
Oh, like the way Milly
in your book gobbled up
that stuttering pool boy.
He wasn't a stutterer.
He was just nervous 'cause
his step-aunt was giving him
the old "crooked corkscrew."
Where I'm from, we called
it the "little Jack Horner."
You mean the "randy hitchhiker."
We're all saying the same thing.
I... I don't know that we are.
Well, then you might want to take notes.
These old buzzards talk fast and
don't remember a word they say.
(chuckles)
I like your outfit.
Are you the lady-dabbler?
Yeah? Okay.
I'll take the scrambled
eggs, he'll have the oatmeal.
I don't feel like oatmeal today.
But it's Monday.
I know what day it is.
I want to hear the specials.
Since when?
In all the time I've known you,
it's been "Oatmeal Monday,"
"Egg Whites Tuesdays,"
"Corn Flakes Wednesdays,"
"Turkey Bacon Thursdays,"
and "Fresh Fruit So You
Eat Half My Omelet Friday."
I'm branching out.
Let's hear 'em.
Well, there's the salmon Benedict,
uh, bacon quiche, vegetable frittata...
You know what, I really don't
feel comfortable with this.
What is your hang-up?
A man wants to try something different.
What are you so scared of?
Maybe because there are
few certainties in life,
and your stomach is one of them.
Mm-hmm, like a
lactose-intolerant Swiss watch.
Believe me, I didn't come to
this new way of thinking easily.
I was reading something the other day...
Uh... he's reading, too.
It was in Molly's book.
It's all about trying new
things, giving up control,
and losing yourself in the experience.
- That was in Molly's book?
- Yeah.
I mean, the chapter was about
a lady taking on three guys,
but you can apply that to breakfast food.
You been applying any of
that new adventurous nature
into the bedroom?
Oh, God, no.
It's still lights off, T-shirt on.
But I will say... the other night,
my T-shirt rolled up, I
didn't pull it back down.
You know something, I
will have that frittata.
I like your style.
I'll have the oatmeal.
You say "engorged" quite a bit.
It's a good word, but I
feel like it can be overused.
You're right, okay, you're right.
But it does paint a picture.
You could use "swollen,"
"enlarged," "full," "inflamed."
"Inflamed" sounds like there's
something wrong with it.
Like it's discolored, or there's a rash.
All right, ladies, she has a thesaurus.
Let's give her something concrete.
A... are there any moments where
you thought it went too far?
Oh, God, no.
If anything, you could go further.
I may regret asking this, but further how?
Why can't a woman get
roughed up in your book?
Uh, hair-pulling is very in right now.
ROSE: I'd try it,
but mine's already
coming out by the fistful.
I'm not really comfortable
with, you know, that rough stuff.
How can you expect your
characters to let go,
if you can't?
I did let go.
Did you read chapter seven?
It's a nude cotillion.
A naked minuet is very erotic.
I don't think she's ready for this.
No, (stammers) I am ready.
If you don't think I've gone far enough,
then... (breathes deeply)
let's hear where you think I should go.
You should delve into fantasies.
That shows where the person wants to go
but is afraid to.
I've always wanted to
make love to a centaur.
Is that the half-man, half-horse?
Yeah, I grew up on a farm.
You're a strange little bird, aren't you?
You don't know the half of it, honey.
MIKE: Molly?
In here.
I told you my mom was rough.
It wasn't your mom, it
was your mom's friends.
Her church friends?
Aw, they're a cute bunch.
No, they're not.
They are dirty, dirty birds.
They wanted me to take my
book to a dark, dark place,
so I'm just gonna stay in here
until I can remember
something sweet and innocent
like holding hands or my first kiss.
Okay, but why in the closet?
Because this is where it happened.
"Seven minutes in
heaven" with Stevie Dugan.
It was my 14th birthday party.
Father Dugan?
Not at the time.
I don't know, maybe I should
just start the whole book over,
tear it apart and build it
back up from the beginning.
You know, just rethink the whole thing.
What are you talking about?
Sweetie, you're making yourself insane.
What you wrote is great.
Yeah, but it could be better.
You know what you're doing, don't you?
This is my Super Bowl
guacamole all over again.
I can't hear that story one more time.
Well, you're gonna hear it.
Because a valuable lesson
was learned that horrible day.
Oh, when I first mixed
it up, it was delicious.
Damn near perfect.
But I thought I could
make it better, you see?
And I added more lemon,
and... and I added more peppers,
and then Vince said, "Put in salsa."
And then I panicked.
I put in olives.
And pickles.
And something called capers.
And in the end, in the end,
even flies wouldn't land on it.
You still ate it!
That is not my point!
You know what, you know what,
there's no reason to talk about it anymore.
Wh...
Mike?
Mike?!
Are you still there?
What are you doing?
Just finishing up something.
Then we're gonna go
make out in that closet.
There. Done.
What'd you do?
I did what you should have
done a couple of weeks ago.
I sent your book to your publisher.
You're welcome.
You what?
Hey. Hey.
I know you can't see it right now,
but I just saved your guacamole.
Oh, my God, you sent it.
You actually sent it.
Why would you do something like that?!
Oh, my God!
Know what this is?!
This. Is. Your. Face.
(screams)
MIKE: Oh, come...
Come on, Molly.
Look, I did it for your own good.
No, you did it for your own good.
You just wanted your
doting little wife back.
"Doting"?
Are you saying I don't
take good care of you?
Of course you do.
You just don't dote.
Why am I even talking to you?
Girls, let's go, we're going drinking.
What's the occasion?
Mike sent in my book.
- Congratulations!
- Oh! Hey!
ALL: ♪ For she's a
Molly good fellow... ♪
No, no!
No, not in a good way.
But we're still going drinking, right?
You can't un-ring that bell.
Just like you can't un-send an e-mail.
Mol, come on, your book's great.
Well, you have to say
that, you're my husband.
I said the same thing about your
crappy Super Bowl Franken-guac.
If I didn't push that button,
she would have never handed it in.
It was the right thing to do.
Obviously.
Everything worked out great.
What do you think, Harry?
Can you get the e-mail back?
That is the $64 question.
Which actually is my hourly rate.
But you're a friend, so you
can just take me to dinner.
Probably cheaper to pay him.
Listen, Harry, you get this book back
before Molly's publisher reads it,
I will chew up a prime rib and
feed it to you like a baby bird.
I can't believe you're
already backing down.
Hey, Mike Biggs does not back down.
He may, however, raise the white flag,
so he doesn't get a black eye.
You should have seen
what she did to that ball.
Well, you are a similar shape.
HARRY: Quiet, guys.
I got to get past this firewall.
Boy, this is a lot trickier than I thought.
Uh, Mike, hand me that hair clip.
This guy is locked up tight.
Give me that!
That's disgusting.
Use car keys, like a normal person.
You know, we could save
ourselves a lot of trouble
if I just sent this
publisher a Trojan virus.
The hell's that?
It's the nuclear option.
He gets an innocent little
e-mail with the subject line,
"Jessica Alba nip slip."
He's intrigued.
Curious.
He clicks it and... boom.
His hard drive is fried.
And, suddenly, he's an organ donor,
whether he likes it or not.
You know, these computers
give you freaks too much power.
The lunch tables have turned.
All right, look, no nip slips, no viruses,
and you are never
borrowing my car keys again.
Just call your publisher and
explain to him what happened.
I can't talk to him.
I've told so many lies about
why I couldn't hand the book in
that I've lost track. I'm
either admitting you to rehab
or rescuing you from a doomsday cult.
Thank you for not putting me in rehab.
Mike had no right to send that book in.
I'm the only one that
should decide when it's done.
That's true. It was your choice to make.
Even if you were never gonna send it in.
I was gonna send it in. Eventually.
M... maybe.
Probably.
What is going on with you?
Your whole life, you've always
finished what you've started.
If not on time, two
weeks before it was due.
You potty-trained yourself at 18 months.
Well, diapers were humiliating.
It was very hard being your sister.
The only thing I ever did
early was grow breasts.
I'm not sure those are done yet.
This is different. This is my first book.
This is a very big deal.
If they don't like it, it's
over. My career is done.
(sighs)
As long as I was working on
that book, I was still a writer.
But, sweetie,
don't you also want to be a written-er?
What?
Harry?
Hello!
Mike. Mike, Mike, Mike.
Harry is in our bedroom.
Oh, hey, sweetie. We were just, uh...
What were we doing?
Hacking into her publisher's computer.
What?
I want to make this right.
By hacking into his
computer? That's illegal.
Can you actually do that?
I'm already in. I've been
poking around his hard drive.
This puppy is into some sick stuff.
Threesomes, bondage, S and M.
That's my book.
Okay, well, just, uh, delete it.
Okay, wait, wait, wait.
Molly, you should only send your book in
when you're completely happy with it.
To be honest, I don't
know if I'm ever gonna be.
Well, it's your book, your call.
I don't know.
I need an answer. We're
running out of time.
Why? Is he logging in?
No, I just want to go home.
Mol, look, I know that it's scary,
but sometimes you just
got to give up control
and let what happens happen.
Where'd you get that?
That filthy, wonderful book you wrote.
All right, Harry, leave it.
We are clear.
I'll just update your Adobe Flash...
- Scram, Harry.
- You got it.
Well, I did it, Mike.
I turned in a book. It's done.
- I'm a written-er.
- (Chuckles)
I'm proud of you. Mwah.
What do you say we celebrate with
a little seven minutes in heaven?
Yeah, let's go.
(giggling)
MIKE: A little tight in here.
MOLLY: It smells like mothballs.
MIKE: How 'bout two minutes in heaven?
Here you go. Don't get
up. I just wanted to...
bring you some thank you
gifts for all of your notes.
They opened my eyes to a whole new world
I didn't want to know existed.
You're very welcome, honey.
I think I know what this is.
Nope. Candlesticks.
For decoration only.
You didn't really need their notes.
It was already a very good read.
Now you're gonna be supportive?
Where was that with me?
We got you a little something, too, doll.
Oh, you didn't have to do that.
- It's a picture from our Women's Club calendar.
- Aw.
Oh... Oh, God. Where are your clothes?
It was for charity.
For who? The blind?
Mike. It was very... thoughtful.
Just something to remember us by.
It's an image I won't forget.
- Okay, let's go.
- Yeah.
(exhales) Those women scare me.
I don't want you hanging
out with them no more.