That Girl (1966–1971): Season 2, Episode 23 - Odpdypahimcaifss - full transcript

Because of an error, Donald's mother, who is visiting from St. Louis, can't get into her hotel room for another day. Ann, wanting to get to know Mrs. Hollinger better, asks Mrs. Hollinger if she would like to stay with her for the night in her apartment. Despite thinking that no woman is good enough for her son, Mrs. Hollinger accepts Ann's invitation. Ann may regret extending the invitation when Mrs. Hollinger finds a pair of men's trousers - Donald's trousers - hanging in Ann's closet. Mrs. Hollinger can only believe that Ann has lured her son into a life of debauchery. Ann and Donald try to convince her that Ann only sent the trousers to the dry cleaners after Donald dropped a slice of pizza on them. Although Mrs. Hollinger says she believes them, she really doesn't. The arguments increase when Ann's father also learns about the trousers, he defending his pure-as-the-driven-snow daughter against Mrs. Hollinger.

Don't look down.
Don't look down.

Oh, don't open the door!

Wait, wait.

Ooh, ooh, here. Take my hand.

Thank you. You're welcome.

Mr. Newman, why
didn't you ring the bell?

Because you always tell me

if you're not home
to let myself in

with the key under the carpet

two giant steps
down the hallway.

I was home.



Well, I got into the
habit of not ringing.

And at my age, habits
are hard to break.

Now, I got for you today

three blouses, two
slacks, and a-1, 2, 3,

four gray tweed miniskirts.

These are not miniskirts.

These are placemats.

Who can tell?

I'll deliver your
brown plaid suit

tomorrow morning.

Thank you.

Oh, what were you
doing on the ladder?

Oh, I was dusting that
ledge above the doorway.

The ledge above the doorway?



What are you, a fanatic?

My boyfriend's
mother is coming here

for dinner, Mr. Newman,

which means that I
am understandably

anxious to make
a good impression,

and I'm understandably
determined

to have her understand

that I am not a
flashy little actress

who doesn't understand
how to run a home.

Understand?

I understand, and if you
need a reference, call me.

Thank you, Mr. Newman.

You can tell plenty
about a person

from their dry cleaning...

Taste, income, sense of humor.

Many times, I look
around my shop and think,

How many eligible young
hangers would be lucky

to wind up in the
same plastic bag

as that girl?

♪♪

Hi.

Hi.

What time is it?

Well, it's about 5:30.

You weren't supposed
to be here till 6:00.

Yeah, I know. If you
say hello to my mother,

I'll tell you about it.

Oh, of course.

Hello, Mrs. Hollinger.
Welcome to New York.

Thank you, Ann. It's
nice to see you again.

Same to you. Gee, I'm
sorry I'm so flustered.

It's just that I
expected you at 6:00,

and I was just about
to empty the garbage.

Don't let us stop you.

Here, let me do it, honey.

Thank you, Donald.

May I come in?

Oh! Of course.

Come in.

Gee, I'm sorry.
Forgive my appearance,

but I didn't expect
you until 6:00

and I was just about
ready to empty the garbage.

Yes, you already said that.

That's right, I did.

I guess I'm just
a little flustered.

Yes, you said that, too.

Here you are, honey.

Oh, thank you, Donald.

Donald.

Yeah?

Wait outside.

What for?

Ann is undressed.

Mom, she is not undressed.

She is wearing a bulky bathrobe.

With no slippers.

Excuse me a minute,

but I'll just go in
the other room

and put on some bulky slippers.

Don't bother.

If your feet arouse
me, I'll leave the room.

Excuse me a minute.

I'll just put this
in the kitchen.

Did you come here
straight from the airport?

No, unfortunately, there
was a mix-up at the hotel.

My room won't be available

until tomorrow afternoon.

Oh, that's terrible.

Well, it's not so terrible.

She can spend the
night at my place.

We came here first
because it was on the way,

and it was silly
to make two trips.

Donald, it seems just as silly

to go all the way
back to your apartment

when she can
spend the night here.

Oh, no, certainly not.

I couldn't dream of imposing.

Oh, please do!

I mean, you
wouldn't be imposing.

I'd be honored to have you.

You could get to know me,

and I could get to know you.

Ann, I think it would be better if
Mother spent the night at my place.

It would not, Donald.

Why lug her luggage

all the way over to your place

and then in the morning
lug it over to the hotel?

If she stays here, you
only have to lug it once.

Yeah, but I really think...

And besides, your
place is a man's place,

and my place is a woman's place.

So why not stay at my place?

Mother, I sincerely
feel it would be better...

It really would be simpler,

and as long as Ann insists...

Good. See, Donald?
The subject is closed.

Your mother is staying here,

so you just lug her luggage

into my bedroom.

Donald.

Yes, Mom.

How did you know?

How did I know what?

Where her bedroom is.

Oh, come on, Mom.

It's a logical
question, isn't it?

Mrs. Hollinger,

the reason Donald knows
where my bedroom is

is because he's
seen me come out of it

several times when I've kept him

waiting on some of our dates.

Now, that's a logical answer.

Although not the only one.

Ann, will you show
me where to put these?

Oh, anywhere,
Donald. On the floor.

Show me where on the floor.

Anywhere. Later,
we'll... I'll show you.

Excuse me, Mrs. Hollinger.

I'll just be a second.

I should hope so.

Why did you do it?

Why did you do it?

I'm trying to be charming.

I don't want her to stay here.

Why not? Because
something might go wrong.

Donald, what could
possibly go wrong?

I don't know,

but I'm sure you'll
be able to arrange it.

Can I help?

Oh, no, thank
you, Mrs. Hollinger.

I'm just throwing together

an ordinary, everyday
kind of dinner.

Oh, what are we having?

Uh, turtle soup,

hearts of palm
salad vinaigrette,

beef bourguignon,
and baked Alaska.

That's pretty fancy throwing.

Well, I have a
theory, Mrs. Hollinger,

that any man who
works hard all day

is entitled to as good a dinner

as a woman can serve him.

You know, that's my theory, too.

However... However what?

Don doesn't like
beef bourguignon.

He doesn't?

No.

Gee, that's funny. I
thought he loved it.

Well, you were mistaken.

Mistaken abut what?

Oh, your mother was just saying

that you don't like
beef bourguignon,

and I was saying that you did.

Beef "burguinony"? I love it.

Well, when I made
it for you in St. Louis,

you refused to eat it.

You wanted a cheeseburger.

How old was I?

13.

Ah! Mom, my tastes have changed.

Yes, he's learned to experiment.

Oh?

In food.

Ann.

Yes, Mrs. Hollinger?

When you have a
moment, would you show me

where I can put
some of my clothes

so they don't get crushed?

Oh, for heaven's
sakes, of course.

I don't know why I
didn't think of that.

My gosh, I can do it right now.

Thank you.

Right this way.

Mom. Mom.

Isn't she terrific?

Hmm?

I'll rephrase that.
Isn't she terrific?

Terrific might be
sufficient for some people,

but for my son... only the best.

Will two drawers be enough?

One drawer will be enough.

Let me give you two.

I prefer one.

One drawer coming up.

I'll just put this stuff

up here temporarily,
and then later on,

I can find another place for it.

They're very pretty.

Oh, thank you.

Oh, my. Thanks.

Isn't... Isn't
this a bit chilly?

In the winter, yes.
In the summer, no.

It's rather daring.

It is?

Perhaps the word is provocative.

Yes, well... Perhaps
the word is sexy.

Donald, don't look.

Why? I've seen it before.

You have?

Yes. He gave it to
me for my birthday.

You gave this to
Ann for her birthday?

Yes, but the next day, I
was stricken with regret.

Why?

Well, because it was more
than I wanted to spend.

Actually, what I was looking for

was a sweatshirt,

but they didn't
have any in her size.

Donald, will you
please stop teasing?

Mrs. Hollinger, I'm
sorry if you're shocked...

Your father didn't give
me anything like this

until we'd been
married for 7 years.

Me, either. That's
why I bought it.

Psychologically speaking,
I've always felt deprived.

Donald, will you please stop it?

Okay. Okay, ladies, you
know what I think I'll do?

What?

I think I'll get myself a drink.

Of water.

Oh, thank you.

Don't mention it.

Mrs. Hollinger...

Please, let's not
discuss it any further.

What my son gives
you for your birthday

is none of my business.

For my birthday before that,

he gave me a dictionary.

That's none of my business.

Wouldn't be my business
if he gave you marijuana.

I don't smoke.

After all, he is
no longer a child.

He is an adult.

That's a very perceptive point.

And believe me,

I have never been the type
of mother who interferes.

Oh, no, I know that.

Donald's told me
that millions of times.

I've learned to
grin and bear it.

Mrs. Hollinger.

Yes?

A-A-Are you positive
one drawer's enough?

Positive.

All I need now

is a little hanging
space for my clothes.

Oh, of course!

Here, right in here I'll
try and make some room.

There, is that enough?

Thank you.

My pleasure.

Well, if you can manage alone,

I guess I better get
back to my dinner.

All right?

Whatever you wish.
It's none of my business.

Ann, are these yours?

Are what mine?

These slacks.

They look too big for you.

Oh, oh, those.

No, those aren't mine.
Those are Donald's.

Hi.

Hi.

Donald.

What?

You and I are in big trouble

with your mother.

Why are you and I

in big trouble with my mother?

Because your pants
are hanging in my closet,

and I'm feeling so sad.

Mrs. Hollinger, I can
certainly appreciate

what must be going
through your mind.

I mean, after all, you
are Donald's mother.

Isn't that right, Donald?

Oh, that's right.
She's my mother.

And I assure you,
Mrs. Hollinger,

that I can explain
Donald's pants

to your complete
and utter satisfaction.

I think the wisest thing to do

is to pretend I never saw them.

Oh, that would be wise.

That would be very wise
for Mother to pretend...

Oh, Donald, that's ridiculous.

I mean, it's so easy to
explain in this instance.

You see, Mrs. Hollinger,

a week ago, I had a party.

Obviously.

Mrs. Hollinger, those pants

don't belong in my closet.

They belong in Donald's closet.

Here, put these
pants in your closet!

Isn't that like
locking the barn door

after the horse has been stolen?

No, and if you will
keep an open mind

while we attempt to explain,

we will attempt to explain.

Yes.

Well, uh, we had this little

impromptu gathering
here at my apartment.

There was Donald and I

and these two extremely
stable married couples.

The Baumans, who live next door,

and the Scotts, who don't.

Don't what?

Live next door.

Mr. Scott, Bill,

is a non-traveling salesman,

and Audrey, his wife,

is a Sunday school teacher.

She teaches Sunday
school... on Sunday.

Honey, get to the pizza.

I was just setting the scene.

Anyhow, we all decided

that we should
send out for pizza,

so that's what we did.

We sent out for pizza.

And while we were eating it,

Donald spilled it in his lap,

all over his pants.

So Jerry Bauman,
who lives down the hall,

loaned me a pair of his pants.

Right. And I sent Donald's pants

to the neighborhood
cleaner, Mr. Newman,

and he brought them back today,

and that's why you
found them in my closet.

See?

I see.

I have only one question.

How does one spill pizza?

Well, if...

one doesn't watch
what one's doing,

one spills it.

Pizza is solid, not liquid.

But it's gooey,

and you see, we ordered
the combination number 6,

which has got
anchovies... Honey.

Honey, that's irrelevant.

Spilled is the wrong word.

I dropped my pizza
in my lap upside-down.

Your honey said you spilled it.

What difference does that make?

None at all.

If you say that's what happened,

that's what happened.

And even if it didn't,

it's none of my business.

I'll get the Baumans.

What for?

To testify for us.

That isn't necessary.

You gave me your explanation,

and I accept it.

Donald.

Yes, Mom?

Will you put these
someplace else?

They make me nervous.

Yes, Mother.

And don't use that tone with me.

You are still my son.

A son is a son till
he takes him a wife,

but his mother is his mother

all of his life.

That's a lovely
sentiment, Mrs. Hollinger.

Donald, your mother's a
hard woman to convince.

I agree with you.

So does my father.

Donald, this isn't funny.

Honey, what are
you worried about?

You know how my pants
ended up in your closet.

Well, of course I do.

You were eating pizza.

You spilled it on your pants.

I sent them to the cleaners,

and Mr. Newman delivered them.

I believe you.

Thank you, Donald.

Where are you going?

I'm going to finish my
hearts of palm salad,

but my heart won't be in it.

Good morning. Good morning.

There are no
available witnesses.

The Baumans are out of town,

and I can't reach the
Scotts until tonight.

Honey, are we
gonna start this again?

No, I just thought

that maybe we could
get some statements

out of the Baumans
and the Scotts.

Wait a minute!

I can call Bill
Scott at his office.

Bill Scott doesn't
have an office.

He's a door-to-door salesman.

Oh, that's right.
What's his territory?

Brooklyn. You want
to set up a stakeout?

Donald.

Honey, listen. If my
mother... Shh! Okay.

If she won't believe us,

she's not gonna
believe a statement

from the Baumans and the Scotts.

Even if they're notarized?

Darling, if she
wants to convict us

on circumstantial evidence,

that's her problem.

You're right.

You're absolutely right.

I'm never even gonna
mention them again.

It.

Is pants them or it?

It's optional.

Good morning.

Good morning, Mrs. Hollinger.

Hi, Mom. How'd you sleep?

Fine.

I always sleep fine.

I guess it's a blessing
of a clear conscience.

Well, Donald and I
thought you might enjoy

going out for breakfast.

Oh, that would be nice.

Good. Where would
you girls like to go?

Why don't we go
to the pizza parlor?

Maybe we could run
into... Honey, honey.

We just agreed not to...

What did you agree not to...?

We agreed not to mention

that we're just starving.

Well...

why don't we go someplace
for pants and eggs?

I mean ham and eggs.

Come on, Mrs. Hollinger.

1, 2.

There we go.

Miss Marie's residence.

To whom am I speaking?

You're speaking to her father.

To whom am I speaking?

Siegfried S. Newman...

Cleaning, pressing,
and alterations.

She's not here. She's out.

Will you leave a note saying
that her father called to say hello?

With pleasure.

Oh, by the way,
your pants are here.

What pants?

Th-Th-The pants.

The men's pants
with the pizza stains

that your daughter
had me clean and press.

Pizza stains? They weren't mine.

They weren't?

Oh, excuse me.

Since I know Miss Marie
isn't married, I assumed...

Wait a minute. Let
me get this straight.

My daughter had a pair of strange
men's pants in her apartment?

They weren't so strange.

No cuffs and no
pleats, but... Uh, listen.

Forget I mentioned it.

Forget it?

I don't want to forget it.

Mr. Marie, I'm a father myself.

So what?

So forgive her.

In this day and age,

one pair of men's pants
isn't such a big deal.

It is to me, sir. It is to me.

And you may rest assured

that I'm going to get
to the bottom of them.

Of this. Thank you.

You're welcome.

Your father called to say hello.

Gee, Mrs. Hollinger, I
just don't understand.

I heard it was such
an excellent restaurant.

I'm certain it is.

However, I've never acquired
a taste for grease and...

Oh. Daddy.

Good morning.

Hello, Mr. Marie.

You remember my
mother Mrs. Hollinger.

Ann's father, Mr. Marie.

How nice to see you again.

Likewise.

Well, what a lovely surprise.

One surprise deserves another.

I'd like to speak
to you... alone.

Well, uh, Daddy...

Oh, that's quite all
right, I assure you.

We were just leaving.

Donald, get my bags
and your trousers

and take me to my hotel.

Oh, Donald took his
trousers home last night.

They they were your pants!

Which pants?

The pants everybody in
New York is talking about.

Daddy, who's
everybody in New York?

Siegfried S. Newman,

cleaning, pressing,
and alterations.

That's who's
everybody in New York.

Oh, you called while we were out

and Mr. Newman was in.

Correct.

Young man, I hesitate to
say this in front of your mother,

but you belong
in federal prison.

How dare you!

Uh. Mom...

Daddy, you shouldn't
talk to Donald like that.

You're absolutely right.

I should be addressing
myself to his mother.

Mrs. Hollinger, I do not
appreciate your son's pants

in my daughter's apartment.

Your lack of appreciation, sir,

should be directed to
your daughter, not to me.

Why, you dirty... Daddy!

Mr. Marie, may I remind you,

you're speaking to my mother.

Don't change the subject.

What about your pants?

I can explain my pants.

Donald! Daddy! I can
explain his pants, too.

Donald spilled
pizza all over them,

and I sent them to my cleaners.

It's as simple as that.

How do you spill pizza?

That's what I wanted to know.

He's obviously covering up,

'cause he contributed
to her delinquency.

He has not!

He hasn't contributed
to one single thing.

I gave at the office.

Donald, serious
accusations are being made.

And none of them
are true, Daddy.

Of course they're not true.

Men's trousers are never
found in young ladies' closets

unless they have been invited.

How do you invite
pants to a closet?

Simple... "Dear pants,

the pleasure of your company
is requested in my closet."

Don't make jokes.

Nobody makes jokes
about my daughter's morals...

not even my daughter.

Okay, Daddy. I'm sorry.

You think I don't know
what men his age are like.

Don't believe it.

I've been there, Charlie Brown.

Charlie Brown?

It's always the man
who does the seducing.

Bushwha!

Bushwha? Bushwha?

I beg your pardon?

You are talking to
a St. Louis woman.

I know who does the seducing.

Charlie Brown meets
the St. Louis woman.

Mother... You stay
out of this, Donald.

My son wouldn't be the
first unsuspecting male

who fell prey to a
designing woman.

Designing woman? That child?

I don't believe this.

I must be dreaming.

If you are, I'm having
the same dream.

Donald, please. We're
in enough trouble.

I'll have you know
that my daughter

is trustworthy,
honest, truthful.

And my son is... is
forthright, respectful, obedient.

Reverent, kind, neat.

Thrifty.

I think we've just been
elected Brownies of the year.

Congratulations.

Daddy, Mrs. Hollinger,
if you really believe

we're all the things
you say we are,

then what's all the fuss about?

Right. I mean, how
can you be all that, uh...

trustworthy, forthright,

respectful, reverent,
obedient, and kind...

and still have any time left
over to seduce anybody?

Right. And, Daddy, if
I hadn't been so neat,

I wouldn't have
sent Donald's pants

to the cleaners
in the first place.

Oh, I'll get it.

Mr. Newman.

Excuse me for ringing,

but I couldn't find the key.

Oh... Oh, Mr. Newman,

this is Mrs. Hollinger, my father
Mr. Marie, and Donald Hollinger.

Enchanted.

Miss Marie, I came to tell
you that I made a mistake.

I delivered to you a
pair of men's pants

that I should have
delivered to apartment 3-C.

Somehow, it got
intermingled with your dresses.

But accidents will happen.

So if you'll be good enough
to give me those pants...

Mr. Newman. Yes?

Nice try.

Daddy, it was a great idea

to take us all here to dinner.

It certainly was, Mr. Marie.

My pleasure.
Well, Mrs. Hollinger,

I guess you'll have a lot to talk
about when you get back to St. Louis.

We had a lot to talk about
before I left, Mr. Marie.

Isn't it a shame, Daddy,

that Mother and Mr. Hollinger
couldn't be with us?

Yes. Well, as a matter of...

My boy, you never eat
pizza with a knife and fork.

You'll spill it on your pants.

♪♪

Closed-Captioned By J.R.
Media Services, Inc. Burbank, CA