That '70s Show (1998–2006): Season 3, Episode 9 - Hyde's Christmas Rager - full transcript
Now Hyde has moved from the over-protective Forman home to his carefree dad, barman Bud, the basement boys look forward to a keg party there, too frat-type for the girls' taste. Kitty nearly saw trough their 'Christmas' preparations aren't innocent, so the unsupervised drinking games deliver Eric so drunk he pours unprecedented disrespect and vomit all over Red's shoes. Kitty isn't interested in punishment, she cares for the utter lack of educational guidance 'her boy' Steven gets from his dad, so Red is made against his convictions to go read Bud the parental responsibility riot act...
All right, Hyde! Your dad's apartment
is the perfect place for a party.
It's already trashed.
Hey, even if half the people we invited
show up, this party's gonna rock.
- Did you find the cups?
- Nope. Even better.
A plastic tube and a funnel.
All this and a dirty funnel?
Merry Christmas to me.
Yeah, we don't even
have to worry about germs...
because even though our spit
backs up in the tube...
the alcohol kills 'em.
- We're leaving.
- So leaving.
- Wait. You're leaving?
- Yeah, see...
when I was a little girl,
I made a promise to myself.
"Self," I said, "if you're ever
about to suck beer...
out of a funnel
that might give you mono, don't."
So bye-bye.
All right. Kelso, I'm gonna nix the funnel
on account of I think it repels women.
Hey, any woman who doesn't appreciate
a nice funnel isn't much of a woman.
- Hey, guys.
- Oh, hey.
- What's with the keg?
- Throwin' a little party.
You know, 'tis the season
to get sloppy.
- Well, uh...
- You're cool with this, right?
Sure. Yeah. Cool dad. That's me.
Totally cool dad.
Hey, listen.
Have a merry, uh, keg party.
Mr. Hyde, you're the best.
Yeah, you're the best.
Will you be my daddy?
I'm not kidding.
Seriously.
- Oh, hey, Fez, can you grab this for me?
- Sure.
You know, Kelso,
four times is not funny.
Um, yes, it is.
Guess who?
Eric, it's your mom!
Oh, I'm not...
Oh, you're caroling.
That is so... odd.
Well, um, happy holidays.
Look what I brought. Mistletoe!
Uh-oh.
Uh-uh.
Uh-oh!
Uh-oh!
Now, Steven, I brought some
beautiful Christmas ornaments...
to hang on your... antenna.
Ah, Mrs. Forman, you're not
checking up on me, are you?
No, no, no. I'm just spreading
a little holiday cheer.
Dusty.
Oh. Oh, and this blanket,
it needs a nice Christmas washing.
Oh, no, no, no, no, no!
That's Bud's Christmas stool.
Very sentimental. If anybody
touches it, he just goes nuts, so...
Huh. Well, um, I don't
quite believe you, but okay.
Okay.
So, um, Bud left you boys
here unsupervised?
Oh, salami in the couch.
Now, that's... sanitary.
Okay! Okay, then, um,
why don't you boys hang up those angels?
And, um, Eric, come in here...
and help me with the traditional
holiday floor wax.
Mom, seriously, we're okay.
You can go, really.
Oh, good. Fez is making ice.
Ooh. Listen to this.
"Corner Him Under the Mistletoe:
Eight Ways to Trick
a Guy Into a Relationship."
I love the holidays.
Yeah, hanging your stocking, putting
cookies out for Santa, setting a man trap.
Mmm, Christmas.
You know, this'll be the first year I
celebrate Christmas without a boyfriend.
And Jesus wept.
So here's my new plan
for the year:
Buy some really cute tops,
fly to Hollywood and marry Lee Majors.
Make fun of that. I dare you.
Jackie, there are so many ways
to make fun of that...
I don't even know
where to start.
It's like choosing
your favorite jelly bean.
Donna, be nice to me.
I'm lonely.
I mean, okay, if there were
mistletoe over me right now...
who would kiss me?
No one. That's who.
Being alone isn't that bad.
It's a great opportunity
to get to know yourself...
and be comfortable
with who you are.
Donna, I already love myself.
I just wanna French someone.
I miss my funnel.
Eric, drink.
Okay.
If I was Tattoo,
and I lived on Fantasy Island...
my fantasy would be
to not be a midget.
Am I right?
Hmm.
Eenie, meenie, miney, Forman.
You know, Hyde, at first I thought
your dad was a real dirtbag...
but I've come to realize
that there's a fine line...
between dirtbag
and Father of the Year!
Damn!
Fellas, I have to be honest.
I've never played quarters before,
so I probably stink.
Oh, happy day! Eric.
Man, this is the worst game
in the world.
I'm so thirsty.
Damn it! Eric, drink!
I mean, he lives
on Fantasy Island, man...
and he's a midget!
It's so obvious.
Hmm. Mmmm, Forman.
Does anyone else
feel kind of woozy?
Oh, what the hell, man?
If I make this shot,
I promise I will not pick you, Eric.
I pick you, Eric.
It's fun to lie.
Donna, that's Fireman Rob
and Fireman Dean.
- They're firemen!
- Jackie, they're, like, 40.
Whatever. They're firemen!
Two hot firemen in a bar.
This is just like that play I wrote.
Okay, give me five minutes.
I'll pick the one I want,
and you can have the other.
Hello! I'm dating someone. Eric.
Donna, Dean can
bench-press a keg.
- Eric can't even bench-press a cup.
- He can too.
Rob, Dean, this is Donna.
So, what do you girls do?
That's funny you should ask.
We, uh, go to high school!
- Any outside interests?
- Uh-huh. High school guys!
Kelso, it's fine.
I'm not that drunk.
I just...
I just can't walk... or see.
Man, that was...
That was a great party!
You know... You know who
doesn't like parties? Red.
"I'm Red!"
I don't like parties...
"'cause I'm a big,
bald, party pooper!"
Uh-oh.
Uh-oh.
Son of a bitch!
Eric, when did you
eat spaghetti?
I knew something
was going on at Bud's.
When I went over there,
the only thing in the fridge... olives.
And poor Fez had ice
in his pants.
My head hurts.
That's your brain trying
to comprehend its own stupidity.
I mean, what kind of parent leaves
a bunch of teenagers alone with a keg?
A fun one?
Hey, Jim Beam, can it.
Red, you need to have
a talk with Bud.
No.
Eric's home now.
And what goes on between Bud and Steven
is between Bud and Steven.
He's just not a good dad.
Well, you know what? I agree.
So, I think we should
get in the car...
pick up Steven and move him
back in with us and feed him...
and... and clothe him...
and love him.
No.
I'm not loving anybody
that I'm not legally required to.
Fine. I'll call Bud.
And, Eric,
I'll deal with you later.
Thank you.
Mommy, I don't feel so good.
If you're gonna get sick again,
why don't you throw up under the tree...
because Christmas is ruined!
Oh, no.
So, tell me more
about the big ladder thingy.
Oh, the cherry picker?
Funny story. True story.
Okay, Jackie, this is a nightmare,
and we're leaving.
Okay. Look, Donna,
you have a boyfriend, I don't.
And maybe I don't want
to sit home alone every night.
And if somebody doesn't tell me I'm cute
in the next five minutes, I'm gonna scream!
Hi. Sorry. My friend
was being a wet blanket.
Well, maybe I
should talk to her.
I mean, a wet blanket's
a fireman's best friend.
Boy, something about you
is so familiar.
I get that all the time.
See from the right,
I look like Gidget...
and from the left,
I look like Elizabeth Taylor.
- Neat, huh?
- Nah. It's...
Oh, it's your laugh!
You know, I used to date a girl with the
same laugh, but, uh, it was 20 years ago.
She dumped me and married
some rich lawyer.
Burk... Burkhart! That was it.
Oh, my God, that's my name!
And my dad's a rich lawyer!
Oh, my God!
So, Jackie, was this
in the play you wrote?
Kitty, why are you smoking?
It's my Yuletide cigarette.
To celebrate all the children who spend
black Christmases with bad parents.
Kitty, put that out.
Back off, Grinch.
Hey, Red. Hey, Kitty.
Bad parent.
- Is she all right?
- Hmm? Oh, yeah.
Uh, sit down, Bud.
Kitty, sweetheart...
why don't you leave us
alone for a minute?
A boy can't live on olives.
Bud...
Eric just came back from your place
falling-down drunk.
He threw up on my shoes.
Now, what were you thinking,
leaving kids alone with a keg?
Look, Red, I've never
really been a dad before.
I-I'm just trying to...
I don't know...
take it easy, be his friend.
Why would you be friends
with a 17-year-old?
They're idiots.
Bud, being a teenager
is like being in combat.
One minute you're
crawling around half blind...
the next, you're looking
for your own foot.
- Follow me?
- Not really.
I was a conscientious...
Canadian.
Well, if you weren't chicken
and you did fight...
who would you want
as your lieutenant, me or you?
Well, you, 'cause you're mean and scary.
That's right.
Steven doesn't need
another friend, Bud.
Steven needs somebody
to ride his ass.
He may not like it.
He may not thank you for it.
He may... do impressions of you
behind your back.
He thinks he's so damn funny.
But the point is, he'll know right
from wrong because you did your job.
Huh.
Bread, ham, bananas, milk. Because
there are four food groups, Bud! Four!
I am so grossed out.
I need a Calgon bath, a facial,
some Tater Tots and some Jean Nat?.
- This night was the worst.
- I know.
I mean, I am not
gonna find love in a bar.
All I'm gonna find there
are guys who used to French my mom.
Just this morning, I was playing
with My Pretty Ponies.
Look what you've done to me!
Look!
Me? I'm not the one who hooked up
with the volunteer fire department.
I am never gonna meet anybody...
and I'm never, ever
gonna feel better, ever.
Jackie, when you're sad, you look
exactly like Mary Tyler Moore.
Oh, my God! Donna, I do.
I am gonna make it after all!
Damn!
Okay, everybody, here we go.
Now, if I catch on fire,
you promise to put me out?
Well, I'm sure someone will.
Right, guys?
Okay, great.
Steven, I gotta tal...
- What the hell are you doing?
- It is complicated.
All right. That's it.
Party's over. Everybody out.
What the hell
are you doing, Bud?
Steven, this place
is a madhouse.
There are kids all over the place,
and this guy could've burst into flames.
We'll never know now,
will we, Bud?
Look, Eric went home so drunk,
he threw up all over Red's shoes.
- That's good stuff.
- No, it's not good stuff.
And you know what else?
It's forbidden.
So, what, are you trying
to play father now?
I'm not playing.
I am your father.
You wanna stay here,
you're gonna do what I tell you.
- Oh, really?
- Yeah, really!
I'll be damned if you're gonna end up
looking for your own foot on my watch!
Now, clean up all this crap, take the
trash out and eat a banana, dumb-ass!
Now he's all strict.
I gotta do my homework...
and he keeps talking
about nutrition.
So, I guess what I'm
hearing from all this is...
Hyde loves his daddy!
- Shut up, Forman. I do not.
- Yes, you do!
Yes, you do!
And Daddy loves his little Hyde!
And that's why he yells at him
and tucks him into bed...
and puts on his little
footsie pajamas...
and reads him bedtime stories!
Hey, thanks, Steven.
I'll take over from here.
- Now, about last night...
- You know what, Dad?
Uh, before you get started,
I know what you're gonna say.
Oh, really? What do you know?
Um, that I was
irresponsible and stupid.
And I have it on good authority that I...
may have called you something.
Like, um,
"big, bald party pooper?"
For instance.
But the point is, Dad,
I'm really ashamed and sorry...
and afraid.
Hmm.
Okay.
Well, that covers it.
Okay. Good talk.
That's it?
I get off scot-free?
I mean, I learned
a valuable lesson?
Look, Son, you're grown up now.
You know what you did wrong.
And I am too tired to keep thinking up
new and exciting ways to punish you.
So... Merry Christmas.
Are you kidding me?
I don't get in trouble, and you're
giving me a Christmas present?
Oh, boy, this is
the best Christmas ever!
Actually, you know,
this really smells.
Yeah, those are my shoes
from last night.
Clean 'em,
buff'em and shine 'em.
Ho, ho, ho.
Dumb-ass!
Damn.
Damn it!
Oh, come on!
is the perfect place for a party.
It's already trashed.
Hey, even if half the people we invited
show up, this party's gonna rock.
- Did you find the cups?
- Nope. Even better.
A plastic tube and a funnel.
All this and a dirty funnel?
Merry Christmas to me.
Yeah, we don't even
have to worry about germs...
because even though our spit
backs up in the tube...
the alcohol kills 'em.
- We're leaving.
- So leaving.
- Wait. You're leaving?
- Yeah, see...
when I was a little girl,
I made a promise to myself.
"Self," I said, "if you're ever
about to suck beer...
out of a funnel
that might give you mono, don't."
So bye-bye.
All right. Kelso, I'm gonna nix the funnel
on account of I think it repels women.
Hey, any woman who doesn't appreciate
a nice funnel isn't much of a woman.
- Hey, guys.
- Oh, hey.
- What's with the keg?
- Throwin' a little party.
You know, 'tis the season
to get sloppy.
- Well, uh...
- You're cool with this, right?
Sure. Yeah. Cool dad. That's me.
Totally cool dad.
Hey, listen.
Have a merry, uh, keg party.
Mr. Hyde, you're the best.
Yeah, you're the best.
Will you be my daddy?
I'm not kidding.
Seriously.
- Oh, hey, Fez, can you grab this for me?
- Sure.
You know, Kelso,
four times is not funny.
Um, yes, it is.
Guess who?
Eric, it's your mom!
Oh, I'm not...
Oh, you're caroling.
That is so... odd.
Well, um, happy holidays.
Look what I brought. Mistletoe!
Uh-oh.
Uh-uh.
Uh-oh!
Uh-oh!
Now, Steven, I brought some
beautiful Christmas ornaments...
to hang on your... antenna.
Ah, Mrs. Forman, you're not
checking up on me, are you?
No, no, no. I'm just spreading
a little holiday cheer.
Dusty.
Oh. Oh, and this blanket,
it needs a nice Christmas washing.
Oh, no, no, no, no, no!
That's Bud's Christmas stool.
Very sentimental. If anybody
touches it, he just goes nuts, so...
Huh. Well, um, I don't
quite believe you, but okay.
Okay.
So, um, Bud left you boys
here unsupervised?
Oh, salami in the couch.
Now, that's... sanitary.
Okay! Okay, then, um,
why don't you boys hang up those angels?
And, um, Eric, come in here...
and help me with the traditional
holiday floor wax.
Mom, seriously, we're okay.
You can go, really.
Oh, good. Fez is making ice.
Ooh. Listen to this.
"Corner Him Under the Mistletoe:
Eight Ways to Trick
a Guy Into a Relationship."
I love the holidays.
Yeah, hanging your stocking, putting
cookies out for Santa, setting a man trap.
Mmm, Christmas.
You know, this'll be the first year I
celebrate Christmas without a boyfriend.
And Jesus wept.
So here's my new plan
for the year:
Buy some really cute tops,
fly to Hollywood and marry Lee Majors.
Make fun of that. I dare you.
Jackie, there are so many ways
to make fun of that...
I don't even know
where to start.
It's like choosing
your favorite jelly bean.
Donna, be nice to me.
I'm lonely.
I mean, okay, if there were
mistletoe over me right now...
who would kiss me?
No one. That's who.
Being alone isn't that bad.
It's a great opportunity
to get to know yourself...
and be comfortable
with who you are.
Donna, I already love myself.
I just wanna French someone.
I miss my funnel.
Eric, drink.
Okay.
If I was Tattoo,
and I lived on Fantasy Island...
my fantasy would be
to not be a midget.
Am I right?
Hmm.
Eenie, meenie, miney, Forman.
You know, Hyde, at first I thought
your dad was a real dirtbag...
but I've come to realize
that there's a fine line...
between dirtbag
and Father of the Year!
Damn!
Fellas, I have to be honest.
I've never played quarters before,
so I probably stink.
Oh, happy day! Eric.
Man, this is the worst game
in the world.
I'm so thirsty.
Damn it! Eric, drink!
I mean, he lives
on Fantasy Island, man...
and he's a midget!
It's so obvious.
Hmm. Mmmm, Forman.
Does anyone else
feel kind of woozy?
Oh, what the hell, man?
If I make this shot,
I promise I will not pick you, Eric.
I pick you, Eric.
It's fun to lie.
Donna, that's Fireman Rob
and Fireman Dean.
- They're firemen!
- Jackie, they're, like, 40.
Whatever. They're firemen!
Two hot firemen in a bar.
This is just like that play I wrote.
Okay, give me five minutes.
I'll pick the one I want,
and you can have the other.
Hello! I'm dating someone. Eric.
Donna, Dean can
bench-press a keg.
- Eric can't even bench-press a cup.
- He can too.
Rob, Dean, this is Donna.
So, what do you girls do?
That's funny you should ask.
We, uh, go to high school!
- Any outside interests?
- Uh-huh. High school guys!
Kelso, it's fine.
I'm not that drunk.
I just...
I just can't walk... or see.
Man, that was...
That was a great party!
You know... You know who
doesn't like parties? Red.
"I'm Red!"
I don't like parties...
"'cause I'm a big,
bald, party pooper!"
Uh-oh.
Uh-oh.
Son of a bitch!
Eric, when did you
eat spaghetti?
I knew something
was going on at Bud's.
When I went over there,
the only thing in the fridge... olives.
And poor Fez had ice
in his pants.
My head hurts.
That's your brain trying
to comprehend its own stupidity.
I mean, what kind of parent leaves
a bunch of teenagers alone with a keg?
A fun one?
Hey, Jim Beam, can it.
Red, you need to have
a talk with Bud.
No.
Eric's home now.
And what goes on between Bud and Steven
is between Bud and Steven.
He's just not a good dad.
Well, you know what? I agree.
So, I think we should
get in the car...
pick up Steven and move him
back in with us and feed him...
and... and clothe him...
and love him.
No.
I'm not loving anybody
that I'm not legally required to.
Fine. I'll call Bud.
And, Eric,
I'll deal with you later.
Thank you.
Mommy, I don't feel so good.
If you're gonna get sick again,
why don't you throw up under the tree...
because Christmas is ruined!
Oh, no.
So, tell me more
about the big ladder thingy.
Oh, the cherry picker?
Funny story. True story.
Okay, Jackie, this is a nightmare,
and we're leaving.
Okay. Look, Donna,
you have a boyfriend, I don't.
And maybe I don't want
to sit home alone every night.
And if somebody doesn't tell me I'm cute
in the next five minutes, I'm gonna scream!
Hi. Sorry. My friend
was being a wet blanket.
Well, maybe I
should talk to her.
I mean, a wet blanket's
a fireman's best friend.
Boy, something about you
is so familiar.
I get that all the time.
See from the right,
I look like Gidget...
and from the left,
I look like Elizabeth Taylor.
- Neat, huh?
- Nah. It's...
Oh, it's your laugh!
You know, I used to date a girl with the
same laugh, but, uh, it was 20 years ago.
She dumped me and married
some rich lawyer.
Burk... Burkhart! That was it.
Oh, my God, that's my name!
And my dad's a rich lawyer!
Oh, my God!
So, Jackie, was this
in the play you wrote?
Kitty, why are you smoking?
It's my Yuletide cigarette.
To celebrate all the children who spend
black Christmases with bad parents.
Kitty, put that out.
Back off, Grinch.
Hey, Red. Hey, Kitty.
Bad parent.
- Is she all right?
- Hmm? Oh, yeah.
Uh, sit down, Bud.
Kitty, sweetheart...
why don't you leave us
alone for a minute?
A boy can't live on olives.
Bud...
Eric just came back from your place
falling-down drunk.
He threw up on my shoes.
Now, what were you thinking,
leaving kids alone with a keg?
Look, Red, I've never
really been a dad before.
I-I'm just trying to...
I don't know...
take it easy, be his friend.
Why would you be friends
with a 17-year-old?
They're idiots.
Bud, being a teenager
is like being in combat.
One minute you're
crawling around half blind...
the next, you're looking
for your own foot.
- Follow me?
- Not really.
I was a conscientious...
Canadian.
Well, if you weren't chicken
and you did fight...
who would you want
as your lieutenant, me or you?
Well, you, 'cause you're mean and scary.
That's right.
Steven doesn't need
another friend, Bud.
Steven needs somebody
to ride his ass.
He may not like it.
He may not thank you for it.
He may... do impressions of you
behind your back.
He thinks he's so damn funny.
But the point is, he'll know right
from wrong because you did your job.
Huh.
Bread, ham, bananas, milk. Because
there are four food groups, Bud! Four!
I am so grossed out.
I need a Calgon bath, a facial,
some Tater Tots and some Jean Nat?.
- This night was the worst.
- I know.
I mean, I am not
gonna find love in a bar.
All I'm gonna find there
are guys who used to French my mom.
Just this morning, I was playing
with My Pretty Ponies.
Look what you've done to me!
Look!
Me? I'm not the one who hooked up
with the volunteer fire department.
I am never gonna meet anybody...
and I'm never, ever
gonna feel better, ever.
Jackie, when you're sad, you look
exactly like Mary Tyler Moore.
Oh, my God! Donna, I do.
I am gonna make it after all!
Damn!
Okay, everybody, here we go.
Now, if I catch on fire,
you promise to put me out?
Well, I'm sure someone will.
Right, guys?
Okay, great.
Steven, I gotta tal...
- What the hell are you doing?
- It is complicated.
All right. That's it.
Party's over. Everybody out.
What the hell
are you doing, Bud?
Steven, this place
is a madhouse.
There are kids all over the place,
and this guy could've burst into flames.
We'll never know now,
will we, Bud?
Look, Eric went home so drunk,
he threw up all over Red's shoes.
- That's good stuff.
- No, it's not good stuff.
And you know what else?
It's forbidden.
So, what, are you trying
to play father now?
I'm not playing.
I am your father.
You wanna stay here,
you're gonna do what I tell you.
- Oh, really?
- Yeah, really!
I'll be damned if you're gonna end up
looking for your own foot on my watch!
Now, clean up all this crap, take the
trash out and eat a banana, dumb-ass!
Now he's all strict.
I gotta do my homework...
and he keeps talking
about nutrition.
So, I guess what I'm
hearing from all this is...
Hyde loves his daddy!
- Shut up, Forman. I do not.
- Yes, you do!
Yes, you do!
And Daddy loves his little Hyde!
And that's why he yells at him
and tucks him into bed...
and puts on his little
footsie pajamas...
and reads him bedtime stories!
Hey, thanks, Steven.
I'll take over from here.
- Now, about last night...
- You know what, Dad?
Uh, before you get started,
I know what you're gonna say.
Oh, really? What do you know?
Um, that I was
irresponsible and stupid.
And I have it on good authority that I...
may have called you something.
Like, um,
"big, bald party pooper?"
For instance.
But the point is, Dad,
I'm really ashamed and sorry...
and afraid.
Hmm.
Okay.
Well, that covers it.
Okay. Good talk.
That's it?
I get off scot-free?
I mean, I learned
a valuable lesson?
Look, Son, you're grown up now.
You know what you did wrong.
And I am too tired to keep thinking up
new and exciting ways to punish you.
So... Merry Christmas.
Are you kidding me?
I don't get in trouble, and you're
giving me a Christmas present?
Oh, boy, this is
the best Christmas ever!
Actually, you know,
this really smells.
Yeah, those are my shoes
from last night.
Clean 'em,
buff'em and shine 'em.
Ho, ho, ho.
Dumb-ass!
Damn.
Damn it!
Oh, come on!