Northern Exposure (1990–1995): Season 4, Episode 8 - Thanksgiving - full transcript

And to boot, there's the
L-tryptophan. "L" what?

L- tryptophan. It's an amino acid
found in, among other things, turkey.

It works as a sedative of
sorts. Makes you feel good.

Oh, so what? Now we're drugged
into enjoying Thanksgiving?

No, not at all, O'Connell. I'm
only pointing out the irony.

I mean, who needs chemical assistance
to make you feel good on Thanksgiving?

Turkey, pastrami, peanut butter...

it doesn't matter what's on the table.

It's the celebration that's so great.

I'm amazed, Fleischman. You actually
have a capacity for pleasure.

Yeah, Thanksgiving,
O'Connell? No, I love it.



It is the only holiday
that's for everyone.

I mean, there's no
theological strings attached.

Christians, Jews, Muslims, Moonies.

I mean, no one's left
out in the cold. Yeah.

You know, one of the things that
always intrigued me as a kid was the...

You probably did this, too. The
tracing your hand and making a turkey?

Yeah. Yeah, and the brown
crayon always wore out first.

Yeah. That had great
significance for me as a kid.

I mean, there I was, I was this kid
with little or no artistic ability...

not able to draw a stick,
let alone a stick figure...

and here was this Thanksgiving
turkey, and I made it.

I don't know, Fleischman. You,
cheerful like this, is kind of creepy.

Hey, Dr. Fleischman!
Hey, Ed. How's it going?

Really great. How about yourself?



Couldn't be better. Couldn't be better.

Happy Thanksgiving, Dr. Fleischman.

See you, bro. Bye, now.

I don't believe it.

It was so cold, so premeditated.

You should have seen him.
He was smiling.

He was gleeful.

This is a Perry Ellis shirt!

I wore this shirt twice.

I'm walking down the street...

I greet him, I was cordial...

and next thing I know...

he ambushes me for no reason.

It's Thanksgiving.
Yeah. Well, I know that.

That's why.

Why what?

Ed threw a tomato at me
because it's Thanksgiving?

Uh-huh.

What could Thanksgiving possibly have
to do with this unprovoked attack?

We don't celebrate We? Like you.

Indians.

What are you talking about?

We have a lot of anger.

Anger? Uh-huh.

And so you throw tomatoes?

You throw fruit at people?
At white people.

Wait a second, I'm to believe that
this tomato was simply Ed's way...

of saying season's greetings? Uh-huh.

This is crazy. This is insane.

Why tomatoes?
Why not grapefruit or papaya?

Tomatoes look like blood,
but they don't hurt.

Let me tell you something, Marilyn.

Not only do I find this custom
atavistic and reprehensible...

but Ed made a very serious mistake.

He got the wrong guy.
An innocent bystander.

I'm not white! Yes, you are.

I may look white, but I am
not. I am Jewish, okay? Jewish.

A fellow person of color.
A victim of oppression.

Let me ask you something.
Do you know what a shtetl is?

Reservation?
Right. How'd you know that?

You told me. Pogrom?

Okay, well, for your information...

in Eastern Europe,
in the pale of settlement...

Jews were herded into
these squalid villages.

Shtetls? Yes, exactly.

We were ostracized, segregated...

and the Cossacks would ride through

regularly, raping,
pillaging and murdering.

So you see, Marilyn...

I may be a lot of things, but I'm
not white. Definitely not white.

It's getting to be
that day of the year, folks...

when the Grim Reaper
meets Miles Standish...

and death's head pumpkins abound.

Yes, Cicely, we're fast approaching
the fourth Thursday of November...

that Miss Sarah J. Hale promoted into
the hallowed halls of holidayhood.

Thanksgiving.

Word of caution to all us
white folks out there.

The tomatoes are starting to fly.

Whoa, Mike just got nailed.

We got good news from our meteorological
friends over at the US Weather Service.

The official Indian Day
of the Dead Parade...

and everybody's favorite follow-up
feast will go according as scheduled...

barring any surprise appearances
by uninvited Old Man Winter.

You know, it's hard
not to become reflective...

in the three months leading up
to the winter solstice. I mean...

if winter is slumber, and
spring is birth, and summer is...

Summer's life, then autumn
rounds out to be reflection.

It's a time of the year
when the leaves are down...

and the harvest is in,
and the perennials are gone.

Mother Earth just closed up
the drapes on another year...

and it's time to reflect on
what's come before...

and it sort of makes me feel...

I don't know.

How about Bugles?

You know, those little crunchy things
that look like mini horns of plenty?

We could fill them with
cream cheese or peanut butter.

Right. Now, what else? You know,
last year our list was twice as long.

We have tortillas, plantains, lentils.

Sweet potatoes? Sweet potatoes. Got it.

Cannelloni. Right.

Cranberry sauce.

Cranberry sauce. How could
I forget cranberry sauce?

Okay, cranberry sauce
with walnuts, huh? Yeah.

Hi, Maggie. Hi, Shelly. Hi, Mike.

How you feeling?

Well, a train derailed
north of Whitehorse yesterday.

Spilled a tank of chlorine.
I got some edema.

But today, so far, so good.

Taco salad? Oh. Taco salad.

Taco salad? With fresh guacamole.

Is that for Thanksgiving? Mmm-hmm.

You should let me bring something.

I've got a bumper crop
coming up at my place.

Snap peas, tubers, okra. You name it.

Do you have any spaghetti
squash? Oh, yeah. Sure.

Bring lots. Holling
scarfs it like beer nuts.

Order up. Oh, gotta roll.

Spaghetti squash. Okay.

Potatoes au gratin, risotto...

How do you feel about eggplant?

Is this a joke? No. No.

I've just got bushels of Japanese
eggplant. You know, the little ones?

Oh. I was thinking, maybe...

well, you might like to come over...

and you and I, we could
whip up a dish for the feast.

What do you say? How about it?

Eggplant parmigiana or maybe a salad.

Russian style. Tomatoes, onions.

Sure. I'd like that.

Good. Great.

Turkey club, extra mayo, side of fries.

Something wrong?

No, no. Everything's great. I
just... I'm not hungry anymore now.

Stomach funky? No. No.

It's just this whole Thanksgiving
thing. It's kind of...

put a squeeze on my psyche, you know?

I don't know how to describe it.

The Germans call it
Weltschmerz. You know? It's...

But it's not that, it's like
a longing. Like a yearning.

Like when you had the munchies...

for those chocolate mint
Girl Scout cookies.

No, no. It's not a
taste bud kind of thing.

Maybe booty. You been getting any?

Yeah. No, it's not a
libido thing, you know?

It's like a place.

Place? Yeah.

Like you're homesick. Homesick?
No, Shel, I'm not homesick.

How come?

Well, the old Stevens' humble
abode was the flip side...

of Norman Rockwell, if you
know what I mean, you know?

My daddy, he was never around.

And Mom had this heavy thing going with
that twist-off cap wine, you know...

so she was flat on the couch
most of the time. Except if...

she'd send me out for a pack of smokes,
or... What about on Thanksgiving?

She switched to Asti Spumante.

You didn't even have turkey dinner?

Oh, yeah, yeah, we sort of did.

I mean, my dog, Buddy,
and I, we'd sneak out...

go to the neighbor's trash, kind
of sift through it, you know...

and get some good things
sometimes, like...

stuffing, you know?
Never got a wishbone.

Nobody'd be homesick for that.

Yeah. Well. Anyway,
there's a hole in here...

that's big enough
to toss a cat through.

Wow.

Here.

Hi, Ruth-Anne. Sorry, Dave,
I'm all out of tomatoes.

How about canned? That, too.

Tomato sauce? Tomato paste?

Are you going to throw
tomato paste at people?

No. It's for Holling.
He's making marinara sauce.

Oh. I'll check.

Hey, Dave, let me ask you something.

I mean, you're an Indian.
That's right, Dr. Fleischman.

Well, I can understand
that you would harbor...

a certain amount of
hostility toward white people.

Small pox, the Trail of Tears.
I saw Dances with Wolves.

But do you really think
that hurling tomatoes...

is an acceptable way
to express that hostility?

It could be worse. Worse?

Baseball bats. Bicycle
chains. Tire irons.

Yeah. I could only find these two, Dave.

That'll do. Thanks.

Am I the only one in Cicely who finds
this barbaric behavior unsettling?

Probably.

This came for you, Joel.
Registered mail.

In New York, people vent their
frustration in civilized ways.

Like withholding damage
deposit, or tipping 10%.

Sign here. State of Alaska?

Yeah, I noticed that.

I figured it must be
your voter registration...

since Lowell Grippo got his yesterday.

Why would you get
a voter registration...

if you vote in your home
state by absentee ballot?

What? Bad news?

Another year? They say
I owe them another year.

Who? The State of Alaska.

They say I owe them a fifth
year of medical service.

Sneaky bastards. They can't do this.

We signed a contract. This is
illegal. This is against the law.

Uh-uh.

Oh, if they think
they're gonna get away

with this, they got
another thing coming.

I am gonna fight this.

Good for you. Oh, yeah.

I mean, they may be able to
intimidate some people, not me.

Not this boy. No way. Not Joel
Fleischman. I know my rights...

I know the law, and I
know they can't do this.

You wait and see.

They are gonna be sorry they
ever sent this. Very, very sorry.

Nice balance. Heavy.

Beefsteak? Better Boy.

Too bad the Early Girls are all
gone. They were very, very juicy.

No, these are excellent.

Firm. And a good grip.

Uh-uh, guys.

I know what you're thinking. I know it.
Forget it. Just keep moving, thank you.

Don't even try it.

Joel, that modified
terfenadine, it worked wonders.

The rhinorrhea,
it cleared up immediately.

Yeah? Yeah? Look at this. Oh.

I mean, do you believe this? They are
trying to screw me out of another year.

I want to put you
on immediate retainer.

And I don't care how many hours
it takes. Cost is no object.

Here's my original contract.

You and me, Mike, we are gonna
nail these bureaucrats to the wall.

We are gonna eviscerate them.

Joel. The paper. I have
a problem with the paper.

The formaldehyde. I need my gloves.

Oh, I'll hold it, you read.

My idea, and then, of course,
I want your advice on this.

We hit them fast with a lawsuit.

Not only do we get them
to overrule the extension...

we get them to reduce or even
cancel the original terms.

Might even be able to get some damages.

I mean, these SOBs
won't know what hit them.

Hmm. What?

"Wherein, the applicant
hereby agrees to

repay in full the loan
amount agreed upon."

Blah, blah, blah.

"Now, therefore, the party of
the first part has agreed...

"to the aforementioned compensatory
terms and all variables...

"connected to said terms where
applicable. See paragraph four."

It's nothing but legal
harassment. It's intimidation.

This is like a bald manipulation
of the law! Isn't it?

No. Not exactly.

This contract was drawn up in '86.

Yeah. So? So what?
Well, it's in '86 dollars.

What difference does that make?

Well, one of the variables they alluded
to is the cost of living increase.

It's mentioned here in paragraph four.

Which automatically increases your
stay here in Alaska accordingly.

What? Inflation, Joel.

The dollar just isn't worth
today what it was in '86.

Hence your fifth year.
Where? Where does it say this?

Right there, at the bottom of the page.

What, this? This?
You can't even read this!

Did you consult an attorney?

No. No, I did not consult an attorney.
I didn't think to consult an attorney.

Mmm-hmm. We're gonna fight
this, aren't we, Mike?

Mike, tell me we're
gonna fight this, please.

Well... What are you saying?

Are you saying that... Joel...

we don't have a leg to stand on.

There's just no case. Sorry.

Hi, Randy, Melissa! Happy Thanksgiving!

Hi, Ruth-Anne. Hi, honey.

I need some spot remover.
Well, you sure do.

They really nailed you.
It's all squishy.

You know, I really adore
this time of the year.

The skeletons, and the tomatoes,
and the death's head pumpkins.

And if it all means a little
more laundry for us white folks...

I think that's a small enough price
to pay for a wonderful holiday.

Go easy. This is the
last one in stock. Thanks.

Oh, listen, don't forget to bring your
skull and crossbones cookie cutter...

to the big baking thing
tonight. All right.

Let's see. Here you go.

Why don't we make sugar cookies
in the shape of gravestones?

Neato. See you. Bye.

Ruth-Anne? What?

You always stock these beans,
or you just get these in?

The Orthopedic Hospital in
Kagamil went out of business.

And I got a good deal
on their canned goods.

Orange lights. I beg your pardon?

Four hundred guys
all eating in one big room...

the clink of industrial silverware...

and 2% milk in tin cups.

Getting on into the winter months.

You know, the sun would
always go down by suppertime.

So we had to eat by those
big, old orange sodium lights.

Sodium lights?

I'm afraid I don't follow you.

Prison, Ruth-Anne. I'm talking
about when I was in prison.

These were the beans. Every
Tuesday, every Thursday...

these babies had a place in
the corner triangle of my tray.

That's what I've been missing.
I've been missing the joint.

You have? Yes.

I'm gonna take all
these, okay? Well, sure.

Hey! Hey! Come on.

Let her rip. Let me have it.

Yeah. Go ahead, splatter me
with tomatoes. I don't care.

What? What are you waiting for?

Hey, it's open season
on Joel Fleischman! Come on!

You gonna throw them, or what?

Now, item number five.
What kind of pyrotechnics...

if any, will be used during
the Day of the Dead procession?

That includes flash pots,
smoke bombs, that sort of thing.

Marilyn...

my volunteer fire brigade has got
to be kept abreast of these things.

Maybe some fire crackers. Right.

"Recreational explosive
devices." I got you.

Fleischman.

You look like you got up on the wrong
side of the bunk this morning, son.

You need a razor. Go buy one.

Congratulations, Maurice. Huh?

Touché. Check and mate.
I bow before you in defeat.

What in the hell is he babbling
about? He has to stay another year.

Oh, no kidding? Yeah.

Must give you great satisfaction.

You who have taken such a
personal interest in my servitude.

Well, how about that. A fifth year.

That's right, Maurice, five long years.

Half a decade.
One sixth of my entire life.

But, I mean, hey, why stop there?
It was just my youth, my freedom.

I mean, why not have everything?
Yeah, here, take my tie.

While you're at it, why don't you grab
my stethoscope? How about that, huh?

I mean, take everything, Maurice.
I mean, there's plenty. Huh? Huh?

Come on, Fleischman, suck
it up. This is degrading.

How about the jacket
off my back, maybe?

I mean, you might as well
have everything. Marilyn.

And cruise by my house, Maurice. Grab my
TV and, yeah, don't forget my toaster!

And my socks!
You want those, don't you?

Might as well have my socks!
How about my underwear?

You want my belt, Maurice? Huh?

Here you go! I got it right here! Huh?

With the nitrogen-rich compost
and the long days up here...

the gardening is just incredible.

I love fresh dill. Smell this.

Mmm. Yeah.

You know, I've got lots of basil,
so if you'd like to take some home.

Okay.

Oh, no, no, no.
Look, I'll dice the onions.

But I don't mind. No, no, I insist.

Really, you do the dill.

Oh.

You know, I have not cooked
with a man in...

Wow, well, it's been at
least a year and a half.

Me, too. I mean,
it's, you know, been...

at least that long since I
was in a kitchen with a woman.

Yeah.

Look, if I'm not dicing this the
way you like, you just tell me, okay?

Oh, no, no, that's great.
That's perfect.

You know, I've always felt that
cooking alone is like eating alone.

Lonely. Yeah.

Hmm.

You know, when my
autoimmune system recovers...

the two of us could make strudel.

Hmm. I love strudel.

Well, it's a lot easier
with two people.

Oh. Sorry. No.

Oh, dear, it was an
accident, it was an accident.

No. It's okay, it's okay.

Mike?

Nothing. Are you sure?

You shouldn't have been out
so long without the spacesuit.

No. Oh, wait, maybe it was me.

I used toothpaste this morning. I
knew I should have used baking soda.

No. It's the onions.
Definitely the onions.

I think.

And the next morning I wake up...

and there's that same
little tickle right here...

and when I heave it up off the bunk...

why sure enough, the wheezing
starts all over again.

And right on the heels of that
comes the coughing.

And the pressure
right up behind my nose.

Yes, just like before. Right.

Only this time, it feels
like somebody put

a curling stone right
on my chest here...

'cause when I try to take
a deep breath, like so.

I only get half way. Well,
what about the amantadine?

You should still have a week left,
based on the prescription I gave you.

Oh, I stopped taking it. You what?

I stopped. You stopped?

Well, once I was feeling
my old self again.

Oh, you just thought you would
disregard my instructions?

Sorry?

Here I am, I am shanghaied,
I am pressed into service.

A physician in chains for whom imbeciles
like you don't even listen to me.

Well, I- Dolts, simpletons, dullards...

who think their name
could just as well be

stenciled on that
window outside as mine.

I didn't mean - Let's give it
one more try, shall we? Okay.

I'll write the prescriptions,
and you take the medicine.

Is that simple enough? Something that
pea-sized brain of yours can handle?

I think so. Well, good. Get out of here.

Go on. I don't wanna look at you.

Hello? Scram! Thank you.

You. Yeah, you, bookworm.

Another plantar wart I suppose, right?

Come on. Get in there.

Go. Move. Come on.

Go on, get your shoes off.

Hey, Fleischman. You Fleischman?

Yeah.

I'm Sisyphus. This is a rock.
Give you a couple of pointers.

Sisyphus? Always start
pushing with your knees...

bent to a squat. It takes the
pressure off your lower back.

Sisyphus? The Sisyphus?

Once you get to the top there,
get the hell out of the way.

This sucker comes rolling
back down like a runaway train.

Well, hold it. I'm supposed
to push the rock up the hill?

Why me? Why do I have to do
it? You're my replacement.

What?

Hey!

If you think this is bad,
check out Prometheus.

How'd you like some vultures
ripping out your liver every day?

Come back! Or worse yet...

they could send you to Alaska.
Think about that, Fleischman.

Wait, I can't do this! It's too heavy!

Adiós, Fleischman. Wait. Come back!

Hey, Michael. Hi, Maggie.
Please, have a seat.

Your clothes.
It wasn't just the onions.

No, I'm afraid the air quality's
taken a turn for the worst.

I don't know if it's anything
to be concerned about.

Hi, Maggie. What can I get you?

What are you having? Watercress tea.

Purified by reverse osmosis.
Well, I'll have some of that.

After you left, out of the blue,
paroxysmal sneezing, a slight fever.

Maybe you just overdid it. You
know, the cooking, the gardening.

No, no, it's definitely a reaction
to some petrochemical of some sort.

I figure the cause has gotta
be in here somewhere.

Maybe a spill or something.

Don Lewis! That big butthead.

Sorry? I saw him changing
the oil on his Gremlin.

He bled the crankcase
right into the street.

Oh, I don't think that would
really be enough to do it.

Maybe it's latent effects
from Prince William Sound.

Is this something I should be
getting totally freaked out about?

Yes, we all should. But I wouldn't
freak out about it right now.

Well, for a while, at least.

Still, until whatever this is
blows over, you might wanna...

just not do so many outdoor activities.

Tennis, volleyball. Oh, jeez.

I gotta go. I'm expecting a fax...

from the National
Meteorological Association.

Listen, Shelly, if you do start
feeling any pressure behind your jaw...

or up here in your temples,
I'd suggest staying indoors.

Keep your heart rate down,
and detox your system a little.

Okay.

See you.

Get up.

Light. Why? It's 9:00.

Big deal.

You're a mess. So what?

Who cares?

What difference does it make?

Some coffee, please. I'm busy.

Fine.

Where are the filters? In the cabinet.

Right.

What is that? My costume.

Your costume? For the parade.

Oh. For the parade. Right.
Thanksgiving parade.

Let me ask you something.

For the Indians up here...

Thanksgiving is also
the Day of the Dead.

A time for mourning, right?
Because of white people.

Uh-huh. So...

I don't understand. Why the parade?

The costumes? The music?

Dancers.

Yeah. Why the celebration?

You don't know the story?
No, I guess I don't.

Sit.

Death, like the white man...

wasn't happy in his own land.

He didn't think
his kingdom was big enough.

He wanted more.

One night, when the Good Spirit was
asleep, Death attacked the world.

He killed a lot of people.

And he took the chief's
prettiest daughter as his bride.

She pretended to be a good wife.

But one day, she secretly
fed him a pumpkin seed.

The pumpkin grew and grew inside Death.

Finally, he exploded...

and a million pumpkin seeds
covered the earth.

Well, I still don't get it.
A lot of people died.

But a good thing came out of it, too.

What was that?

Pumpkins.

It's the same with white people.

They cleared the forest,
they dug up the land...

and they gave us the flu.

But they also brought
power tools and penicillin.

And Ben & Jerry's ice cream.

You know about Ben and Jerry's
ice cream? I've seen ads.

Mike, I got your groceries.

Great, Ed. Come on in.

Ruth-Anne sent along
some chicken soup, too.

She thought it might
make you feel better.

Great. It's the good stuff.

Clarified broth, no sodium, no fat...

no MSGs. Sounds like a treat.

Oh, it is. So how are things going?

Well, I thought I'd nailed
down the cause of my symptoms.

Oh, great. Not so great.

See, two and a half months ago...

a tanker ran aground
off of Koshun, Taiwan.

It caused a huge, massive
benzene spill. But...

But what?

But Hong Kong CNN reported
that the toxic cloud...

dissipated almost immediately.

So most of what was
left was in the sea.

Meaning the Kuroshio Current...

would have carried the toxins
straight to us across the Pacific.

Oh. Which explains
why you're not feeling well.

Yes, it would, except...

according to my calculations,
any residue from that spill...

would have passed the
Alaskan coast weeks ago.

What's it from, then? I don't know.

I don't have the faintest idea.

Hmm.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Ed,
I've got a lot of work to do.

Oh, sure.

Say, Mike, are you gonna be feeling well
enough to come down for the big parade?

I'm sorry, Ed. But I don't
think that's possible.

Hmm.

See you. See you. Happy Thanksgiving.

Got a message today,
via some tin cans...

and dig this, there wasn't
even any string hooking them up.

They helped me recall
that it was behind bars...

amongst 400 cons, that I enjoyed
the best Thanksgiving of my life.

Me and the other guys,
we filed in from the yard...

those of us that weren't in solitary.

And got in a big old line
outside the dining hall.

As we filed through the chow line...

we got to take as big a
helping as we wanted 'cause...

I guess even in the calabazoo...

Warden Viglietta recognized
the need for overindulgence...

on that day of all days.

We had plastic plates just
brimming with pressed turkey...

and sweet potatoes and green beans.

After a brief interruption...

when one of the new guys tried to
swipe a cleaver from the kitchen...

Joey King George got up on a chair...

and he recited a passage
from Pilgrim's Progress.

"A man there was, tho'
some did count him mad...

"the more he cast away
the more he had."

And, man, we just all dug in.

And Joey King's punk,
Junior the Weatherman,

broke out a jug of Apple Jack...

that he'd been fermenting
since the Fourth of July.

And we passed that along under
the table, spiking our cider...

whenever we were free
from watching eyes.

I remember that, Dog Hansen actually
got a little whacked on the stuff.

He stabbed a guy
just for pinching his yams.

Little Billie Bowdner tried to get
a round of Christmas carols going...

even though it was a month early.

The mellow sweetness of a pumpkin
pie off of a prison spoon...

is something
that you will never forget.

Morning, Marilyn. Morning, Holling.

I'd best tell you that Joel is in
there, and he's acting mighty strange.

I came over to get an elastic
bandage for my trick knee...

and Joel was under the desk.

He's just sitting
in there under his desk.

And when I asked him what was
the matter, he told me to go.

And, Marilyn,
he is smelling a bit ripe.

I know.

Go away.

I said, go away.

Oh. It's you.

What time is it? 8:30.

Well, that would make it three years...

nine months, one week...

and seven hours that I'm
forced to remain here.

But, hey, what's an hour
in the face of despair?

Or a day? Or a month?

Nothing. They're not yours
to spend, they're just words.

Labels for big empty spaces
that run together like...

Like taffy.

Don't take this personally, Marilyn...

but I'm not going to be able to
attend your Thanksgiving parade.

I mean, it would be the
slightest bit hypocritical...

seeing as how I have absolutely
nothing to be thankful for.

Not a thing. What?

No hope. You have no hope left.

Yeah, that's right. No hope.

No hope at all.

You can march with us.

Really? I thought it was, like,
"Indians only" kind of deal.

Well, you're not white anymore.

On this official turkey day,
ladies and birds...

we have another
ground-breaking event for you.

The first ever tie-in
to the lower 48th.

Now, just hang on a second while
I hook up my home away from home...

the State Pen, nestled
along the Ohio River...

and the wooded hills of wild,
wonderful West Virginia.

Warden Viglietta? Yes, it is, Chris.

Whoa, we have contact!
Happy T-day, Warden.

Well, thanks, Chris. You're
keeping your nose clean, I trust.

Oh, yes, sir, Warden, I am.
Good to hear it.

Now, I just want to make it clear,
if I hear inappropriate language...

of any kind coming over this line,
I'm pulling the plug immediately.

No ifs, ands or buts, understand?

You got it, Warden Viglietta.
All right.

Hello? Stevens, you there?

Roach? Hey, man! Hey, man!

Chris-o, guess who? Billie.

Yeah. Yeah!

Oh, you guys sound great, man.
What's happening?

What's been going on
since I left the nest?

Oh, same old, same old.

The State denied Yano's parole again...

so he's just sitting around,
ticked off...

folding paper airplanes and not
talking to anybody, you know?

Yeah, same old Yancey, huh? Yeah.

Oh, and Lonnie Pearl's in
solitary two straight weeks now.

No kidding? Lonnie the Lamb?
Yeah. He got

caught with a shiv under his mattress.

Some lamb, huh?

What about Joey King? George?

Yeah, yeah. Oh, he's out of here.
Finally went state's evidence.

Oh, wise move.

I've been thinking about
you guys a lot, and I just...

I can't tell you how great
it is to hear you again.

Oh, you, too, bud.

Roach, just tell me about
Thanksgiving dinner today. How was it?

Oh, great cream of spinach, man!

Hi, Mike. Hello, Maggie.

Ed tells me you aren't planning
on attending the festivities?

Well, I'm afraid he's right.

Well, I know the parade
could get a little long...

but not even the feast, huh? Yeah,
well, I've stabilized a little...

but ingesting contaminants
at this point...

that could send me off the
deep end all over again.

In fact, I really should be inside now.

With the prevailing winds, this
mask doesn't offer much protection.

You know, I can make
you something special.

Crudités, with vegetables
from your garden?

Turkey broth, unseasoned?

I don't think so. Thanks.

Hmm.

Tracking more air currents?
No, no, not really.

I've tried all my usual
channels, and I still can't...

I can't seem to isolate
what's hit me, so...

Well... Yeah?

Maggie, I'm gonna have to relocate.

Move? From Cicely?

Oh.

You know, actually, I've
done pretty well all in all.

You know, three months
is the longest...

I've been able to
stick it out anywhere...

so, you know, I really
consider this almost a success.

Where would you go? Believe
me, I don't want to leave.

You know, far from it.

Mike. Greenland.

Greenland?

It seemed like a more hospitable
climate than Antarctica.

But then again, they
do have a permanent

research base set up at Halley Bay.
So...

well, at least I'd have neighbors.

I see.

If you think about it, Greenland's
really not that far away.

You're a pilot. I mean, if
you were ever up that way...

I certainly hope
that you'd come and see me.

Mike.

I really don't see any reason
why we still can't be friends.

You know. Good friends.

Don't.

Don't what?

Don't go. Please.

I don't want you to go.

Hey, that little corpse there,
that one there without the head...

isn't that Dave's boy? Uh-huh.

Isn't the makeup bitching?
Everybody looks so dead.

Every year it gets better and better.

The vultures. They're new
this year, aren't they?

Yeah, I think they are. Nice touch.

Hey, look at Joel! It is him!

Looks like a big, old,
grumpy bear. Really.

Hey, Dr. Fleischman. Ed.

Are we having fun?

No. Not particularly.

Oh. Well, I'll see you later.

Mike? Hello, Maggie.

I didn't think I was going to see you.

Yeah. Well, I...

Look!

Here you go.

Oh, these'll be a hit.

If I'd known you were coming, I would
have made something special for you.

How about this rice? Though
I'm not sure about the saffron.

I know I'm gonna pay for this.

But what the hell.

May I have a drumstick, please?

Thank you.

How about some of those candied yams.

Candied yams.

Is this seat free, Dr.
Fleischman? Yeah, sure, Ed.

Oh. This was good today. It was...

Cathartic? Yeah.

Yeah. Well, maybe for you. Say, let me
have those sweet potatoes, would you?

Sure.

You wanna know something, Ed? Sure.

Check this out.
Convicted felons, right?

Armed robbers, drug dealers,
killers do less time than me.

The stuffing, please.
Murder one, for instance.

First time offender, good
behavior, guy's out in four years.

James Cagney, White Heat.

We're talking about someone who lay
in wait to take another person's life.

Excuse me. Can I have
the dark meat, please?

But me, whose only crime is not having
the tuition for medical school...

I will do hard time every minute of it.

Gravy? Yeah.

Armed robbery, felonious
assault, two, three years, max.

That's good. Yeah, it is.

Corrected & Synced by Bakugan