Northern Exposure (1990–1995): Season 1, Episode 2 - Brains, Know-How and Native Intelligence - full transcript

Dr. Joel Fleischman slowly starts accepting his desperately desolate fate, despite a defective shower leaving him to choose between swallowing his pride in order to get Maggie's plumbing help or bathing in the utterly icy lake. Popular DJ Chris Stevens' 'irreverent' comments on even Walt Whitman get him sacked from Maurice's radio K-Bear, but the boss soon offends everyone else in Cecily. Ed Chigliak's suave way gets reluctant Joel to make confusing house-calls on Ed's uncle, paradoxical medicine man Anku, who treats Joel to a Kentucky takeaway, traditional dancing and a sauna but refuses to be treated for his fatal cancer.

It was a day not unlike
any other in the summer of 1976.

I, a boy of 15,

and my oldest
and dearest friend, Dickie Heath,

having just stolen a car
from the parking lot of a ShopEasy,

and finding ourselves
with nothing much to do,

entered a house on Fox Hill Lane.

While Dickie rifled the upstairs
for valuables,

I entered the sitting room where,

while pocketing a gold-leaf pen
and a silver humidor,

came across the book that completely
and irrevocably changed my life.

So, this morning, Chris in the Morning



is gonna dispense with the weather
and traffic report and locaI news

and get down
with the complete works of Walt Whitman.

"When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd

and great star early droop'd
in the western sky in the night

I mourn'd. and yet shall mourn
with ever-returning spring

Ever-returning spring.
trinity sure to me you bring

Lilac blooming perenniaI
and drooping star in the west

And thought of him I love... "

- Waaah!
- It's empty. I checked.

What are you doin' in my bedroom?

Don't you believe in knocking
before you drop in at 6.28am?

- Indians don't knock. It's rude.
- No? What the hell do Indians do?

Use the key.

The key?
You have the key to my bedroom?



Well, it works on my house, too.

Lots of people have the same key.

You don't have to worry
so much about gettin' locked out.

- I wanna make an appointment.
- A doctor's appointment?

Uh-huh.

No problem. Use your key
and let yourself into my office

and write your name in my book.

Oh, I forgot. There is no book.

Marilyn doesn't believe in them.
Just draw your name on the wall.

It's not for me. It's for my uncle.

- What's wrong with him?
- He's sick.

Oh, no!

- My toilet is broken.
- I know, you've told me.

No, actually that's not true.
It never really worked so

maybe not working
is its naturaI working condition.

What's wrong with it?

What is wrong with it? How am I
supposed to know what's wrong with it?

Common sense, maybe?

You're a doctor. You're smart.
You're brilliant. Toilets are dumb.

I think this is a complicated problem.

We're not talking about
your average toilet malady.

There is something very,
very wrong with this toilet.

You tried to fix it?

Yeah, I listened to it with my stethoscope!

Now, I asked you three times.
I cannot live without a toilet!

Holling spent years without a toilet,
didn't you, Holling?

In the bush.
Didn't bring no porta-johnny.

Look, um,

I'm not the Grizzly Adams type.

I had a friend who joined the Peace Corps

and went to the African NationaI Republic
and he had a toilet!

It's terrible what's happening in Africa.

It's one of the reasons
why I stopped killing the big guys.

You're welcome to use my john, JoeI.

Later, as I sat
in a juvenile detention home,

rereading those poems
that had opened up the artist in me,

I was blindsided
by the raging fist of my incarcerator

who informed me
that Walt Whitman's homoerotic,

unnaturaI pornographic
sentiments were unacceptable

and would not be allowed in an institution
dedicated to reforming the ill-formed.

That Whitman, that great bear of a man,

enjoyed the pleasures of other men
came as a great surprise to me,

and made me reconsider the queers
that I had previously kicked around.

Uncle, what are you doing?

I've been eavesdropping
on a couple of ruddy turnstones.

They're in the middle of their migration.

There's a lot of pressure to mate
but no one seems to be complaining.

Didn't you get my message
about your doctor's appointment?

Mrs Anku might have said something
about something.

But I knew if it were very important,
you'd track me down.

And right in time
to help me strip some bark.

Well, you know,
if we don't leave now, we'll be late,

and Dr Fleischman
is a particular kind of fellow.

Just these two red willows.

Then we can go
and pick some loganberries

before the bears feast on 'em.

You won't come?

How can I? With my schedule?
I'm overbooked as it is.

It won't take long. Uncle...

Today's already shot.

And tomorrow I promised Julia Chigliak

I'd get her the red willow bark
for her migraines.

She won't take aspirin. Even though
she knows it's the same thing.

Julia Chigliak can wait one day.

Not with her aches and pains.

Maybe she should go see Dr Fleischman.

Hi, Ed. Make yourself comfortable.

Can I get you a cup of coffee?
Maybe a footrest?

No, thanks. Maybe later.

My uncle won't come in.

Your uncle?

- Right. Why? He doesn't like doctors?
- He doesn't trust them.

- Why's that?
- He is a doctor.

Really? Which kind?

- Witch.
- Which which?

- Witch what?
- Which doctor?

Right.

- Your uncle is a witch doctor?
- Well, more like a medicine man.

No kidding.
Well, I'd love to catch his act some time.

He hasn't been practising much lately.
I think he's sick.

What kind of sick?

He's tired.
My aunt says he has blood in his urine.

- OK. I want to see him. Bring him in.
- He won't do it.

He's the head honcho.
I think he thinks it's bad for his image.

Look, blood in his urine
can be a really serious thing.

I know but, you know,
he's got his reputation.

Yeah, but I think I should see him
as soon as possible.

My aunt's invited you
to dinner tomorrow night.

To dinner?

Yeah. That way
you can see him and check him out.

Does he know you're doing this?

No.

.. the musicaI shuttle
Out of the Ninth-month midnight...

HauI your ass out of that chair, Stevens!

- Maurice...
- I said get your butt outta that chair now!

I appreciate your dressing up
to fix the toilet.

Rick and I are going out.

I'm only here because I know what an
incessant, complaining nag you can be.

You do have toilets in New York,
don't you?

I tried fixing it. I am not very good
at this stuff. I never have been.

Really?

What do you know?

I'm sorry if my incompetence
offends your idea of Alaskan self-reliance.

Why don't you call Anchorage? Tell 'em
I don't fit in and should be transferred...

Is that it, Fleischman?
If you play the incompetent long enough,

we'll feeI sorry for you
and you can go back to New York?

Look, O'Connell...

Why are you so committed
to your helplessness?

- I don't fix toilets so I'm helpless?
- You're addicted to it.

You wanna talk about helpless? Who
needed a doctor so bad they bought one?

Isn't that right up there
on the helpless scale?

An addict. A helplessness junkie.

Have a great time.
Tell Rick to drop by any time

so I can sew up the punctures from you
walkin' all over him in those heels.

Hopelessly helpless.

I'll take the hit. Maurice Minnifield
is not one to dodge responsibility.

And what went out of here yesterday
on my airwaves was a disgrace.

Whether or not Whitman deserves
to be in the big tent with the big boys

will be up to the vultures
and the bookworms to decide.

But the Minnifield Communications
Network will not be a party

to an expos? or a seaI hunt.

This is Cicely, Alaska,

not San Francisco.

That being said. here's a tune from
the Broadway show "Kiss Me Kate".

Music and Iyrics by Cole Porter
who lived to be past a hundred.

That oughta brighten up your day.

Aagh!

Eurgh!

Like an ice cube!

Oh, that's great! That's...

- Just in time for breakfast.
- I ate. Thanks.

- How ya doin'?
- I'm OK.

Pull up a log.

- Here?
- Yeah.

- How's the head feeI?
- It's still pretty mushy.

Sure you've extracted
all the glass slivers?

I think so. That's pretty thick glass
Maurice threw you through.

Yeah. When I was a kid
I always wanted to break something.

Maurice has a hard head.

Yeah, I'm sorry you got canned.

Well, you know,
I have more time to work on my art.

I take it you're into metaI.

I like to shape it, buff it, weld it.

That's interesting.
You ever do any auto bodywork?

That was my trade in the joint.

How about that?

I think you're comin' along fine.

Yeah?

So, I guess you'd be a whiz at plumbing?

No, I'm afraid not.
You having problems?

Not really. It's just that my shower,
well, uh, you know, it's...

It's weak.

Yeah, weak.

So I think it might just be
a question of water pressure.

Sounds reasonable to me.

So, how's your shower?

Uh, I don't have one.

No, no shower? What about a tub?

No, no tub.

What do you...
What do you bathe in? The sink?

No, the lake.

- The lake? This lake?
- Yeah.

What about in winter?
Doesn't it freeze up?

Not really. You get thick ice
for a couple of months,

but come March
you break through pretty easy.

You might want to talk to Maggie.
She's the best plumber Cicely's got.

Hey.

Hey, there. JoeI, Mindy. Mindy, JoeI.

- Stayin' for breakfast?
- Yeah, come on.

- No, really. I gotta get goin'.
- Nice meetin' you.

Who is that?

Mindy?

She from around here?

No, she's from Boston.

Where'd you find her?

In the woods.

The woods? Which woods?
These woods?

Mm-hm.

You found a girI from Boston,
that looks like that, in these woods?

Yeah.

What was she doing here?

Just walking.

If it's not the water pressure,

you might want to check out
a How To book from the library.

- There's a library?
- You betcha.

Let me tell you people something.

Grissom, Glenn, Carpenter and Minnifield

got into it
a little bit down in Cape CanaveraI.

Scotty liked West Side Story.

Gus like Guys and Dolls.

And Johnno,
well, Johnno was a Brigadoon man.

As far as I was concerned, none of 'em
could hold a candle to The King And I.

Point of information:

YuI Brynner would have made
an outstanding flyboy.

"I Whistle A Happy Tune",
"Hello, Young Lovers",

"Shall We Dance?"

This one goes out to you, Scotty.

- Can I help you, Dr Fleischman?
- Just browsing.

If you're looking for Whitman,
it's on back order for three months.

You're kidding!

Nothing like an interesting sex life
to get people reading.

Actually, I'm not looking for Whitman.
I'm looking for plumbing.

Oh. Something specific?

Yeah. I'll take whatever you got.

Well, there's the plumbing section.

- Morning, Ruth-Anne.
- Be with you in a minute, Maggie.

I just have to write up
a library card for Dr Fleischman?

- What are you reading?
- None of your business.

Touchy.

Not really. I just don't think my personaI
reading habits are any of your business.

Suit yourself.

- How's the toilet?
- Fine.

- No problems?
- Should there be?

No. As long as you remember to flip
the little handle after you go potty.

What a searing Alaskan wit.
It opened me like a can of sardines.

I am devastated. I am humbled.

What is it about you that so irritates me?

You are clearly attracted to me.
It makes you incredibly uncomfortable.

Your arrogance.

Here's your card, JoeI.
You'll have to renew it in three years.

- I don't think that'll be necessary.
- Good luck with your plumbing.

You know what she called me?
An addict. A helplessness junkie.

- She called you that?
- Yes, she did.

A junkie strung out on helplessness, as if
my brain were pickled with ineptitude.

Did you hit her?

No, I didn't hit her.

Let's see this.

I'll be damned if I ever ask her
for any kind of help again.

- What're you gonna do about the shower?
- I'll fix it, that's what.

How difficult can it be?
It's a system, not unlike the human body.

What we're looking at is probably nothing
more than a clogged or defective artery.

- Could be a snake.
- A snake?

That's possible?
That could happen?

They like to nest under the sump pumps.

Or maybe not.

Another piece, JoeI?

No, thank you.
But maybe more slaw, please.

- Inspired meaI, Mrs Anku.
- Thank you.

It's strange the things you miss
when you leave civilisation.

I had no idea there was a ColoneI here.

Uncle Anku had it flown in
from Anchorage.

I thought you'd prefer it to seaI steak.

Much appreciated, Mr Anku.
Much appreciated.

My nephew informs me you're a doctor.

Mm-hm.

- Where'd you pick up the trade?
- New York. Columbia University.

Ivy League. Good schooI.
But lousy at football.

Yeah.
It was, uh, pretty embarrassing.

Uncle Anku's a doctor, too.

You mentioned that.
Where did you study?

At my father's knee.

- So he was a doctor as well?
- Oh, yeah. His father, too.

I wanted to race dogs, but they insisted
I enter a profession.

I don't suppose you know anything
about Indian medicine?

Uh, no, I don't.

Did you ever see Little Big Man?

- The movie with Dustin Hoffman?
- What an actor.

That was some makeup job.

Remember the scene in a teepee
with the medicine man

and a pregnant girI that was sick?

Right, just before the cavalry rode in.

That's basically what I do.

Holding the patient's hand,
keeping their spirits up,

maybe a little psychology.

Plant root here, placebo there.

Standard operating procedure for me.

My father's first rule of thumb:
do no harm.

Absolutely.

Under most conditions, the human body
is an extraordinary self-righting machine.

My nephew and my wife
are concerned about my health.

Well, um...

they have good reason to be.

I've had some discomfort
which I'm taking care of.

As Dr Fleischman said, the body is
an extraordinary self-righting machine.

Anyone for dessert?

Or maybe you'd prefer a sauna.

This schvitz is great.
It's better than the Y at 92nd Street.

What is it? Oak?

Cedar.

I had no idea this was
a traditionaI Indian thing.

It's the only custom-built sauna
in Arrowhead County.

- Where'd you get it?
- Mrs Anku won it in a bingo tournament.

In Fairbanks.
She placed third in the regionals.

She's lucky.

That's how come she got me.

I usually like to listen to music,
but Maurice is gettin' on my nerves.

He should never have fired
Chris-in-the-Morning.

Look, Anku, dinner was great

and this is unbelievable.
But the reason I came here...

Ed's been telling me
you've been having plumbing problems.

Yeah, I have.

I had them once or twice. With the sauna.

It came with a warranty

but I'd have to ship it to Finland
to have it serviced so I fixed it myself.

Yeah? How'd you do that?

I knew a man once from Chicago.

His name was Bob Young.

And Bob Young loved to catch the salmon.

He fished with other guides,
but every year he came back to me

because we always caught
the most salmon.

"What is it, Anku?
Why do we catch so many fish?"

he would ask me again and again.

Finally I tell him.

"Bob Young", I said to him,

"it is because I think like a fish. "

When we were out in the river,
I dream like a salmon in deep water.

So you think like a fish to catch a fish?

Yes.

And you think like a sauna
to fix the sauna.

That's a joke, right?

No joke.

Oh, my God!

Argh!

- Dr Fleischman!
- Hi, Ed.

You look tired.

Well, I was up all night
trying to think like a shower.

Maybe you should start with something
easier. Like a sink or faucet.

What can I do for you, Ed?

- What do you think about my uncle?
- He's an interesting guy.

- A little eccentric, but...
- No, I mean, what's wrong with him?

How should I know? We took a schvitz.

Ed, I'm a physician,
not a mind reader.

I can't think like a patient
to figure out what's wrong with him.

He's gotta come in and see me. OK?

Please, don't do this northern brooding
thing. I can't stand Bergman films.

Your aunt says he has blood in his urine.
Do you realise how serious that is?

Blood in his urine is a serious thing
but he says he's fine.

He won't come in.
There's nothing I can do.

I don't care what you do,
you get him to come in and see me.

What?

- What?
- He won't come in.

You gotta make him. I know
he's a cagey old guy but just trick him.

Do whatever you can do, OK?
All right? OK?

What, Ed? What?
What do you want me to do?

Can you try again?

- What, Oklahoma? CarouseI?
- Kiss Me Kate. sides one and two.

Well, well, well.
Look what the plane dropped in.

OK, fine. My knee went out on me.

Oh, really? Not too painfuI, I hope.

I have a trick knee. I've had it for years
and last night it went out on me.

OK, let's have a look.

Is that tender?

Uh, no. Yes!

This is making me uncomfortable.

Relax.
There is no reason to feeI uncomfortable.

I am a doctor and you are my patient.
Does that hurt?

No, that feels good.

I meant it doesn't hurt.

How'd it go out on you?

Rick and I were dancing and I guess
I just zigged when I should have zagged.

- Guess you guys weren't waltzing, huh?
- No, 'fraid not.

- Pretty stupid of you.
- Excuse me?

Well, dancing, trick knee. Doesn't sound
like a rocket scientist to me.

Who am I to criticise?
I can't even fix a toilet.

What were the words again?
It was an addict...

No, no...
A junkie, a helplessness junkie.

OK.

- Had your fun?
- Fun?

You had to say it.
So you've said it.

So just give me a prescription
and I'll be on my way.

Oh, drugs. Hey, no problem.

Though it doesn't go with the image
of the Amelia Earhart

I've come to know and love.

To hell with you, Fleischman.

You do check the gas gauge
before you go up?

Drop dead.

Four more black people died today
in a South African mining town...

Dan looks rather tired, don't you think?

Yeah, he does.

I think he's been working too hard.

But I'm a one-anchor man.

- FeeI like a sauna?
- No, thanks, Anku. This is a house call.

Look, blood in your urine
is a serious thing.

- You think I don't know that?
- No, I know you do.

Dr Fleischman,
everything's under controI.

It's just a little prostate cancer.

What's led you to that conclusion?

I had a dream.
I read a couple of tea leaves.

Tea leaves?

And I saw a specialist in Anchorage
when I went to pick up the chicken.

Gotcha.

You'll have to get your prostate removed.
It is not going to fix itself up.

So you say.

The spirit has as big a role
in our wellness and sickness

as our mind and body does.

Do you know how to dance?

To...? Uh, yeah, I guess.
A little. I mean, not really.

Why?

Dr Fleischman, I always found dancing
to be the best remedy.

Let me show you what I mean.

Here. Watch me.

Now you try.

Uh, thanks, but I have two left feet
and my right has no rhythm either.

There's nothing to it.

All right.

Right.

More bend in the knee.

There you go. All right.

- What's the chant again?

Keep practising. I'll be right back.

As the mayor of Cicely,
I've been asked to call this town meeting

to air our concerns and misgivings
over the direction that has been taken

by our radio station
since Chris Stevens was fired.

Now, uh, Maurice
has been big enough to come here so, uh,

Maurice, why don't you just come up here
and say what you want to say?

I was pleased and happy to join you
in this little get-together.

I know we're going through trying times.

One of our own, Chris Stevens,
made a mistake and he has to pay for it.

Now you all know me as a regular guy.

I can take a joke just like anybody else.
But a breach is a breach.

That being said,
I would love to hear any of your ideas

on how we can make
the new, improved KBHR...

Is that Shirley's hand up?
Shirley, how are you tonight?

I've got a petition with 376 signatures
demanding you bring Chris Stevens back.

Yeah!

All right.

Thank you, Shirley.

I'm sick and tired of Porgy and Bess.

We're sick of CarouseI.
We're sick of Brigadoon.

We're sick of Kiss Me Kate.

- We're sick of show tunes.
- Yeah!

We're sick of your book-reading
and your stupid jokes.

We're sick of your boring voice.
Get off the air.

We want Chris Stevens!

We want Chris!
We want Chris!

All right, let's get one thing clear here.

You're not talkin'
to your ordinary breed of man here.

If you think that I'm gonna be
intimidated, pushed or threatened

by pressure tactics from an ungratefuI
mob, you've got another thing coming.

KBHR is my radio station.

And if I want to play Porgy and Bess
till the cows come home,

that's what I'll do.

Church dismissed!

Anku?

Hello? I think I've got the steps down.

- Morning, Dr Fleischman.
- Hold it. What does that sign say?

Is this a trick question?

It says "closed". "Closed" means closed.
Come back in a couple of hours.

Let me eat my stale doughnut in peace,
please.

- What?
- What did Uncle Anku say?

- He told you I came to see him?
- No.

Then how'd you know?

I thought maybe you bein'
such a nice guy...

What? And what?

Well, you know,
that you couldn't handle the guilt.

Guilt?

Hey, I'm finished with your uncle.

You know what he told me?
He wanted to teach me to dance,

only I gotta bring my own records.

Then he excused himself
and left me holding my PDR.

- He pulled that one on you?
- Yeah, he did.

- So what do we do now?
- What do we do now?

We are out of it now.

Look, let me try and explain
medicaI procedure to you, Ed.

OK.

If I were in New York City,

I would be in my climate-controlled,
fully-equipped East Side office,

three, maybe four days a week.

Patients would appear,
I would examine them, treat them,

then I would send them a bill. And in
return they would send me a lot of money.

Now, I'm not in New York
and I'm not playin' in Yankee Stadium,

but the game's still the same
and the rules still apply:

doctors do not chase patients.

House calls, like bottled milk,
are a thing of the past.

JoeI.

Ed.

Hello, Maurice.

Sign says "closed", Ed.

I understand.

So, we'll finish this when you're open.

No, Ed, we won't. We are finished.

Place is comin' along.
Nice coat of paint on that wall.

Floor's, uh,

not too soft.

- How are your sockets, son?
- My sockets? They're fine.

Uh-huh, yeah. That's good.

Yeah!

I see you cleaned up
these droppings in here.

- What's on your mind, Maurice?
- Come on in, son.

Sit down.

I didn't see you
at the town meeting last night.

I got stood up by an Indian.

Oh.

We haven't known each other
very long, JoeI,

but I've come to enjoy our dialogues
over the past couple of weeks.

In some ways, I think of us as kindred
spirits. I hope you feeI the same.

You nearly blew my head off
in a rowboat with a shotgun.

Oh, that.

Well, that was nothing personaI, son.

You had it coming.

But, after what those ingrates tried to do
to me last night, and in a church!

They nicked me, son.

Maurice, can I be frank?

You're no good on the radio.

Your choice of materiaI is, um...

Well, it's awfuI.

And your personality
is like, uh, lox or olives,

or a strong cup of coffee.

It's an acquired taste.

So what you're saying is I'm too different.

Yeah, sort of. In a way.

You know you have it in your power
to square things with Chris.

No, I can't do that, son. I've got my pride.

That's what it comes down to, doesn't it?

You, Maggie, Chris, Anku...

Who was that last one?

- Excuse me, Mr Anku?
- Dr Fleischman.

What a pleasant surprise.

- Was I expecting you?
- No.

I was thinking about you and I stopped by.
Your wife told me you were in here.

I see.

Do you know a four-letter word
for "biting remark"?

Barb?

Of course.

- So you work crossword puzzles, too?
- On occasion.

- New York Times. I presume?
- Of course.

PenciI?

- Pen.
- Oh.

Wouldn't you be
more comfortable naked?

Look, I know you didn't
ask me to come here

and I told myself no way would I do this
again after you gave me the slip, but...

You are going to die
if you don't take care of your cancer.

We all die.

I know we all die sometime.
But you're choosing to die.

And that burns me up because
you are a doctor and you know better.

I've been practising medicine
for almost 50 years.

I've treated everything under the sun.
Most of the time, people got better.

Sometimes not.

But they always listened to me,
believed in me

and I always treated them my way.

I'd rather die than lose face with them.

What are you talking about?

You'd rather die than lose face?
Nobody would rather die.

This is stupid, it's nuts.
Either you are crazy or you are a coward

and we both know you aren't crazy.

It's just pride, Anku. It's just stupid pride.

When I was
growing up in Oklahoma City,

I'd go to the show on Saturday.
My favourite was John Wayne.

Didn't matter what kind of a movie it was,
cowboy picture, war movie,

I was with him all the way.

Except for The Quiet Man.
That one bored the hell out of me.

By the time I was nine years old,
I was walkin' and talkin' like the Duke.

And then one day,
the walls came crashin' down.

I was playing army with the Marshall
boys, Jed and Jeff, in Bailey's Wood

and Jeff said kind of offhandedly that
John Wayne didn't do his own fightin'.

Didn't throw his own punches,
didn't take his own hits or his own falls.

I kicked the hell out of the Marshalls
and ran home and asked my daddy

if it was true that John Wayne
didn't do his own fightin'.

And he said yes.

John Wayne was my hero and
the Marshall boys gave him feet of clay.

I don't give a damn if Walt Whitman
kicked with his right or his left foot.

or that J Edgar Hoover
took it better than he gave it.

or that Ike was true-blue to Mamie.

or that God-knows-who had trouble
with the ponies or with the bottle.

We need our heroes.

We need men we can look up to,
believe in.

Men who walk tall.

We cannot chop 'em off at the knees,
just to prove they're like the rest of us.

Now, Walt Whitman was a pervert,

but he was the best poet
that America ever produced.

And if he was standing here today
and somebody called him a fruit

or a queer behind this back, or to his face,
or over these airwaves,

that person would have to answer to me.

Sure, we're all human.

But there's damn few of us that have
the right stuff to be called heroes.

And that closes the book on it.

It's open.

- Dr Fleischman.
- Mr Anku.

- How you doin'?
- Fine, fine.

I told the missus about our conversation.
She took your side.

Pride is a powerfuI narcotic but it doesn't
do much for the autoimmune system.

You wanna join me
for a salami sandwich?

I can't. I got a plane to catch.

Maybe when I come home
from the hospitaI you can drop in on me.

Absolutely.

We should say our goodbyes here.

You're a pretty nice guy.
But she doesn't think much of you.

You picked that up, huh?

You want to catch a fish, think like a fish.

What do you want?

I forgot some stuff. I can come back.

Make it quick. I'm busy.

You got a furtive mind, Maurice.

What I mean is,
it's like the waters of the Big Muddy.

It's hard to see the bottom of it.

It's deep where you think
it's gonna be shallow

and it's shallow where it should be deep.

- You lookin' for another beatin'?
- No, sir, not at all.

Look, Maurice, what I'm trying to say is,

it was never my intention
to cut down Mr Whitman.

But I can see now how what I said,
in some people's eyes,

could be taken that way. I don't...

I don't want people reading Walt Whitman
for the wrong reasons, Maurice.

And I most assuredly don't want to kill
the child inside the man.

You did a bad thing, Chris.

I know.

I'm sorry.

And?

And?

And?

And I apologise and I am...

I don't know. What?

And you want you job back, right?

Right.

OK. Everybody deserves
a second chance. This is yours.

Oh, on a personaI note,

I'd like to compliment you
on that left cross you snuck in on me.

I felt it.

Matter of fact, I saw stars.

Well, not stars exactly, more like fireflies.

Hey, Maurice...

Thanks.

OK, all right.

Hi.

Oh, it's you.

- What time is it?
- It's about eleven.

What's the matter?
Dragon under your bed?

I brought you some Darvon for your knee.

Oh.

So how is it? Your knee?

It's all right.

I wouldn't give it up if I were you.

- What?
- Dancing.

So your knee goes out on you
every once in a while. Big deaI.

Elaine likes to dance.

But, you know, me.

ProverbiaI two left feet.

I think if they taught it in medicaI schooI...

I don't know,
we'd probably be all better doctors.

Are you drunk, Fleischman?

No, I'm just, I'm a little...

I don't know. I'm homesick.

Must be all this clean air, the bright stars.

I can't sleep without bus fumes, the din
of traffic, the crazy people on the street...

Mag?

Oh. Hey, what's goin' on?

House call.

- You sick?
- No.

Oh, well, I'll see you back in the sack.

So, anyway...

I'm gonna go home now.

You just give me a call
if the pills don't work.

Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow
and fix the shower.