Ned and Stacey (1995–2017): Season 1, Episode 13 - Accountus Interruptus - full transcript

- Why Stacey?
- Why Ned?

It was business.
Strictly business.

Here's the deal.

To get the promotion,
I needed the wife.

See, to get a life, I
needed his apartment.

So, what the hell, we
up and got married.

The only thing we
have in common?

We irritate each other. Right.

Enjoy the show.

Painted Desert, Arizona.

An alien craft descends
from the desert sky.



A couple watches from the porch

of their double white trailer.

Martha, what the
hell is that thing?

I don't know,

but the hatch there's a-opening.

Suddenly, a brilliant
Spielbergian light

washes across their slack-jawed

tobacco-bulged faces.

A huge being
emerges from the craft.

Oh, my Lord!

It's a giant Tribisca snack bar.

I come in peace.

Take me to your kitchen.

Let's shoot him.



Later, the huge snack bar

sits and watches
TV with the couple,

drinking beer and
having a good time.

And we hear,

"Tribisca snack bars.

Don't fear the huge delicious."

Wow.

Wow.

Clio award, get in here!

What do you think?

I liked it. Very funny.

Good stuff. Really good.

No, didn't like it.

Something's missing.

Didn't really work for me.

Okay, go away, go away.

All right, Jordan, what
didn't work for you?

Talk to me.

I'm not sure.

Uh, first one's cute,

but that kind of thing's
been done to death.

Ah, the last one,
too clever by half.

Sorry.

You know, Jordan, I gotta say,

Dorsey's pitched you
some great stuff here.

It's the kind of stuff Freddie
Shaw would have loved.

Oh, is Freddie Shaw here?

I don't see him.

Do you see him?

No, no, don't see
him. No sign of him.

They don't see him either.

Maybe that's because

I have his job now.

Okay.

Okay.

Look, it's been a long day.

Everybody's a little burned out.

What say we...

We just break for the day, huh?

Good idea.

Um, Bob, my case, dear.

Jordan, you and
I can discuss this

further tonight at
the party I'm having.

In the meantime,
everybody go home,

get a nap, get a shower, relax.

You two, go back
into your boxes.

I'll see you tonight, Ned.

Les.

Okay, hang tough you guys.

We'll get back on
this tomorrow morning.

Yeah.

Don't be discouraged, kids.

We'll get it.

We'll nail this baby.

We're screwed!

It was a thing called
Fruity Fruits, remember?

Low-fat, delicious,

made by a little Ma and Pa
outfit up in New Hampshire.

Anyway, they started
selling really well,

so I had our guys
do a little knockoff.

Called 'em Fruity Flaves.

Shoved the Fruity
Fruits right off the shelf

into the kosher aisle,

and they ain't never
been heard from since.

Now that is a feel-good story.

Yeah, you bet.

And with the right
campaign, Jordan,

we're going to be putting
a lot more small companies

out of business.

Knock on wood.

So the Fruity Fruits
are in the kosher aisle.

Ah-ha.

Okay, okay. You ask me one.

All right, all right.

Would you rather
be at this party,

or...

have sex with Ross Perot?

Bob, congratulations on
the Salsa Boy account.

Good for you.

Ross Perot.

Who's that Amazon that's
been pawing at Ned all night?

Oh, some power bimbo
from one of his big accounts.

I can't remember which,

they're all so
mind-numbingly the same.

Tom, love your Purina campaign.

Chow, chow, chow, wow, wow, wow!

What, are you downing
this stuff yourself?

Well, hello there
my little pleasure pile.

Enjoying yourself?

Oh, yes.

I just love entertaining.

Jordan, this is my wife Stacey

and her surviving twin.

Nice to meet you both.

Jordan is VP of
advertising for Tribisca.

Oh, I love your Caker Nutters.

How nice. Um, can you excuse us?

We need to talk some business.

By all means.

Go.

"I love your Caker Nutters?"

You know, Ned,

I'm sorry if I was a little
rough today at the meeting.

Oh, you must mean
the way you spat bile

on my every
utterance and thought.

Don't be silly.

Come on, I wasn't that rough.

Besides, you look
like a strong guy.

You can take it.

Damn my Marlboro man exterior.

I thought that your pitches
had some good elements.

Something to build on.

So you, uh, wanted
another beverage?

Mm-hm.

What was that you were drinking?

Spoiled milk?

Soda water is fine.

You know, Ned,

it occurs to me that you and
I are very similar creatures.

Oh, yeah? How's that?

We're both obsessively
driven to succeed.

Guilty.

And we both have a lot riding

on the success of this
particular campaign.

Well, it is a camel
with two humps.

That's why I think

that we should work
very closely together

these next few days to make
this campaign really work.

Close it is.

Oh, sorry.

Oh, we were just finishing up.

See you tomorrow.

This party's fun.

Okay, good night,
thanks for coming.

Remember, don't make
eye contact with the doorman.

So was your little
soiree a success?

Yes, it was.

Yes, it was.

And kudos to you.

A couple of the guys made nice
smarmy comments about you.

Good going, darling.

Well, as long as we're
handing out compliments,

I've never seen your
tie so straightened.

But then, I guess you had a
little help with that. Didn't you?

Ah, you must be talking
about Madam Tribisca.

She's quite a bill
of goods, isn't she?

Which reminds me, in
the next couple of days,

I'm probably gonna
be "working late,"

so don't "wait up," 'cause...

'cause I'll probably
be seeing her "naked."

You're not gonna
sleep with her, are you?

Yeah, you know, I may just
have to to nail this campaign down.

Oh, work, work, work, work.

You know, Ned,

I think I might have a
real problem with this.

Oh yeah? What might that be?

I don't know exactly,
but it's something.

Something.

Can you be a little more vague?

It's just her behavior.

It was...

It was very insulting
to me, don't you think?

I mean, after all,
I am your wife.

Oh, fake wife.

Not real.

Think of yourself as wax fruit.

I know I do.

I know I'm not your real wife,
Ned, but that woman doesn't.

As far as she knew,
she was in my kitchen,

hitting on my husband,
right in front of me.

That bitch.

Well, I see what's happening.

The green-eyed monster
rears its ugly head at last.

Oh, please!

This is has nothing
to do with jealousy.

I could care less

what you rub up against
in your spare time.

But in the world of your career,

you have to show
me some respect, Ned.

I mean, not me, Stacey,

but me in the role of your wife.

Wife Stacey.

I've tired of these friends.

Can others come
out to play now, Sybil?

I am serious, Ned.

Wife Stacey's been
very good to you,

and she deserves
better treatment than this.

I'm not going to allow her

to become the object
of scorn and ridicule

and sympathetic looks
from all your co-workers.

Stacey,

you're getting those now.

Ned...

Look, Stacey,

if Jordan Haswell requires
some special attention

in order to salvage
this campaign,

then that's what I'm
gonna have to do.

And if sleeping with her
is going to accomplish that,

then bring me a fresh horse,
because tonight, we ride!

Okay, let me ask you
this question, then.

If you are the great
advertising wunderkind

you claim to be,

why do you need
to sleep with her

for her to accept your ideas?

Hmm?

Because that's just the
game that she likes to play.

Look, some clients
want to beat you at golf,

others want to watch
your bare bottom

as you scamper
off to the bathroom.

You can joke about
this all you want.

Obviously you are
on the receiving end

of a power play, my friend.

Sleeping with Jordan
to keep the account

makes you no
better than her punk.

Her punk?

Yes.

Think about it.

She snaps her fingers,

you jump, fetch,
roll over, play Ned.

I do not.

You do too.

And when you do,

you are left with no power,

no dignity,

nothing.

Well...

you ain't so cool.

You know I'm right.

Do not. Do too.

Do not.

Fine. Sleep with her.

But tell her this for me:

Caker Nutters may be
moist, but they are not "cakey."

Look, Monty, it's just not
gonna work that way, period.

Hey, you are not
backing out, you weasel.

Come on in. I'm
just finishing up.

All right, good enough.

Love to Bonnie.

Ned, sorry for
dragging you down here,

but I've just got
so much going on.

No problem.

Would you, uh, like some wine?

No, no.

I perform much better
with a clear head.

Suit yourself.

So Ned, I've been thinking
about the campaign,

and I think we need something
with more of a 90s edge.

Something that'll grab
the teenagers, you know?

Yeah, I see your point of view

but I think that's a mistake.

I mean, teenagers
may shoplift the product

but if we want to
sell the product,

you want mom.

Maybe.

Actually, all I want right now

is for somebody to rub my neck.

I have a terrible kink in it.

Ooh, how about me?

Mmmm. Oh, yeah.

Jordan Haswell.

Uh-huh.

Uh-huh.

All right, here's the deal.

You will do it my way,
or I will ruin your life.

Um, a little lower,
hon. That's right.

Then I will come to your house,

bulldoze it, burn it,
and salt the ground

so that nothing will
ever grow there again.

Am I clear?

Good.

Reach out and scare someone.

Sorry, Ned,

it's just you have to let these
punks know who runs the show.

So as I was saying, you know,

we need to get the moms

and the flow charts
clearly indicate here

that the moms are...

Are we taking a break?

You're no better than her punk.

Her punk, her punk...

What?

Huh?

What? Is something the matter?

No, no, no.
Nothing's the matter.

You're no better than her punk.

Her punk, her punk...

They may be moist,
but they're not cakey.

Cakey, cakey...

Shut up!

What? Huh?

Who are you talking to?

Me.

You're telling
yourself to shut up?

Yeah.

I like to demean and degrade
myself before I have sex.

Yeah.

Shut up, Ned, you sassy monkey.

Whatever works for you.

Cakey, cakey, cakey, cakey...

No! No! No!

I have to go.

What? Where?

Uh, Holland.

You're going to Holland now?

The Holland Tunnel, actually,

to pick up my brother
who works there.

His name's Bjorn.

Ned, I don't believe

that your brother works
at the Holland Tunnel.

How do you think he feels?

Whole family's from Holland,

and he's at the Holland Tunnel.

The irony's so thick,

it's as thick as knackwurst,

which is from Germany,
which is near Holland.

Auf Wiedersehen.

So I did a 3/12 projection
on the Tribisca account,

just for the fun of
it, Ned, and get this.

The inverse ratio of media
time to saturation levels is...

It's just plain wacky.

Wow. Ned?

Ned?

Look at 'em down there,

scurrying to and fro,

leading their little,
insignificant lives.

They don't know
what I'm feeling, man.

Ned.

Ned, I haven't
seen you like this

since Mr. Belvedere
got canceled.

It's not canceled.

It's just sleeping.

Okay, come on, why don't
you hop on down here, fella.

Here, just get a safe distance
away from the window.

Dorsey!

What the hell is going on here?

I just...

I just got

a frightening phone
call from Jordan Haswell.

Apparently, you have
left her very unhappy.

I know.

She wanted to sleep with
me, and I couldn't do it.

Ah, well, it happens
to the best of us, pal.

Now, just eat some pasta,
and get back over there!

No, it's not that
I couldn't do it,

it's that I wouldn't do it.

It just felt,

I don't know, it, uh, it...

There's a word for it.

It felt, uh...

Rico?

Wrong? Wrong!

Dammit, it was wrong.

Is this because you
have a wife now, is that it?

Hell, I don't know!

Oh, I see.

Now that you're married,

you think you have
to practice, uh...

You know...

What's that word where you
only have sex with one person?

Monotony?

No, no, no. It's monogamy.

Yeah, yeah, that.

Now, listen, Dorsey, I
don't wanna interfere

with your little happy home,

but let me remind
you that this agency,

and you in particular,

cannot afford to
lose this account.

Well, Les, what do
you suggest I do?

I suggest you do
whatever it takes, my friend.

I mean,

it's like sausage.

I want it,

but I don't want to
know how it's made.

Dammit! Stacey!

You know, this is all her fault.

In the old days,

I could have been coerced
into an empty, sordid sex act

with the Jordan
Haswells of the world

and just gone home a-whistling.

Ah, welcome to
wife country, Ned.

Fake or real, they
get inside you.

I know what you mean.

My head is just swimming
with these bad Stacey thoughts.

Ah, I hate 'em!

Hey, get out!

Get out!

Get out of here!

Ned, Ned. Easy,
easy, easy, easy.

Don't you people shop?

Something in your
fridge just snapped at me.

Help yourself.

Oh, Toaster Tarts.

Best if used before March 1986.

Whatever.

So what are you working on?

Oh, I'm doing an exposé
on restaurant kitchens.

You would not
believe the half of it.

Mouse droppings, rat fur,

live insects crawling
around in the food.

So why don't you take a break

and come to a movie with me?

No, I ordered Chinese.

Come on, I have two hours
before my next appointment.

I have to work.

Just go into my room,
and pop in a movie.

Or watch one of
Ned's Belvedere tapes.

All right.

Hello, Ned.

"Hello, Ned."

"Hello, Ned."

"Hello, Ned."

Or should you say,

"Hell, O Ned"?

What's wrong with you?

Jordan Haswell
moved from the tie knot

to the belt buckle today.

Although, I guess I am to blame,

what with the way
these cashmere slacks

showcase my
proud, defiant gluteus.

But I couldn't go
through with it.

Thank you very
much. Are you happy?

Yes.

That is great.

So fill me in all the details.

What did you say?

How did she react?

I would rather not
relive it, thank you.

Come on.

You should be proud of yourself.

No. Not proud.

Anti-proud.

Ned be not proud.

Well, you should be.

Boy, this was a big day for you.

You showed respect for yourself,

you showed respect for me.

I feel like I want to hug you.

Go boil yourself.

Stacey, try to step outside
your self-involved cocoon

for a few moments,

and realize that I have
a serious problem here.

What?

Jordan Haswell may yank
her account from my agency

if she doesn't
get a visit from...

Uncle Joe's Musket.

So you're the one that dragged
me kicking and screaming

to the intersection
of Morality and Third,

now drag me home.

Oh, it is simple, Ned.

All you have to
do is confront her

and be honest
about how you feel.

Oh, yeah.

Like that'll work.

Come on. Let's try it.

I'll be her and I'll
attempt to seduce you.

Haven't I been through
enough today already?

Come on, Ned, let's do it.

Ned, I'm tired of working.

Let's have sexual intercourse.

Okay, you be me, I'll be her.

What?

Too clinical?

Of course it's too clinical.

Jeez you act like you've never
used your professional position

to coerce sexual
favors from an underling.

Okay, okay.

I know I can molest you,

just let me get
another shot at it.

Go ahead.

Come on, baby,
give it up for mama.

She wants some hot applesauce

with some of that
fine Ned sugar on it.

Stacey,

how do you work this remote?

And frankly, Jordan,

I have too much
respect for myself

as an advertising
industry professional,

and as a...

"human being,

"to demean myself,
this product, or you

"by participating in
any practice or activity

"unrelated to the
sale or promotion

"of Tribisca Snack Products.

"So should you choose
to withdraw your account

"from our agency,

then I suggest you do so
posthaste and forthwith."

Relax, Ned, I'm leaving
the account right where it is.

Really? Even if I don't
have sex with you?

Only if.

That speech was a turnoff.

Thanks.

My wife wrote it.

All right.

Let's work some more
tomorrow on the, um,

spaceship idea.

Maybe an urban, MTV thing.

Absolutely,
absolutely. That's good.

I'll get my staff to work on
the storyboards right away.

Should have
something this afternoon.

Come by about 3.

Good. Sounds great.

Okay. Oh, and you know what?

Bring your lackeys.

We can tease them
with Snausages.

Okay.

You know, Jordan,
I have to tell you,

now that you're not trying
to coerce sexual favors

out of me,

I, uh...

I find you kind of hot.

Sorry, Ned,

it's no fun for
me if you want to.

Fair enough!

Good doin' business with ya!