The Flintstones (1960–1966): Season 2, Episode 27 - The Mailman Cometh - full transcript

When this is over..

...I'm through with writing
letters of any kind.

Yeah, dangerous, aren't they?

Fred. Oh, Freddy boy.

Uh. Oh, stop that,
Barney, will you?

Trouble, Freddy.
Much trouble.

King sized or
rather cup sized.

Stop nudging me.
Just keep an eye peeled for cops.

You just said the secret word,
Freddy.

What? What secret word?

C-O-P. Cop.



Barney, your voice
is changing!

[laughing nervously]

Hey, nice day, Officer.

[theme music]

[whistling]

[screeching]

[siren blaring]

[whistling]

[screeching]

[music continues]

[screeching]

[screeching]

thud

slam



muah

[water splashing]

[splashing continues]

Looks like a professional
paint job, Wilma.

That "Do it yourself"
painting kit was worth

all those trading stamps.

I'm gonna put on
two more coats.

If by sinuses hold out.

[whistle]

Mailman!

The mail! The mail!

What's with Fred?
He's all excited.

Oh, it's the notice
from his boss, he hopes.

About the annual
raise in salary.

Oh, what's the big fuss then?
Fred gets his raise every year.

Oh, the other employees have
already received their notices.

I see.

Suppose, Fred doesn't get
that raise this year

would it upset him?

(Fred)
'No! It can't be!'

That answer
your question.

Believe me, Mr. Flintstone,
I'm not holding out on you.

That notice from Mr. Slate
is got to be there.

- It's just gotta!
- I checked. No notice. Sorry.

You're sure? Positive?
Scout's honor?

Sure, I'm sure.
Help yourself, take a look.

snap snap snap

(Fred)
It's gotta be there.
It's just gotta--

Anything wrong, Fred?

I don't understand.
Just plain don't..

I got a raise every year.
Why not this one?

Don't take it so hard,
Mr. Flintstone.

Yeah, Fred,
maybe next year--

Ta huh! Thanks
for cheering me up.

(Fred speaking gibberish)

Fred, Betty and I are going
shopping. If you don't mind--

Mind? Why should I mind
if you spend a couple of bucks.

I'm not busted exactly.
We got everything.

Give or take,
a few payments.

You didn't let me finish.

If you don't mind helping
yourself to lunch.

- The ice box is full.
- You're darn right it's full.

I don't need old Slate's raise.

But why did he single me out
for no raise this year? Why?

- Fred, maybe--
- Yeah, yeah?

Maybe, you lost your temper
with Mr. Slate at sometime.

Me! I never lose
my temper! Never!

You ever catch me
losing my temper?

You? Hm.
Ridiculous.

There.

Fred?

There you go again!

Again?
All I said was Fred.

Well, that's
the trouble with you!

You're always sneaking up
behind me and yelling, Fred!

I'm sick of it!
Sick, sick, sick!

Why? Why? Why?

I think Fred's
a nice name.

Oh, you wouldn't
understand.

[door slams]

Hey,
what's he sore at me for?

It's not you, Barney.
It's himself, his pride.

Being the only one who didn't
get a raise this year.

Yeah, poor guy.
I'll go out and cheer him up.

Hey, what do you doing, pal?
Throwing darts?

No, I'm riding a bicycle
out on the ceiling.

Oh, that's funny. It looks like
you're throwing darts.

laughing sarcastically]

Uh, I'm just trying to take your
mind off your troubles, Fred.

Say, that resembles, Mr. Slate.

It's him, alright.

Barney, you have an open mind?

The openest.

Do you think Mr. Slate
deserves my loyalty after

the way he treated me?

- Well--
- You're right.

It would serve him right
if I quit. Right, Barney?

- Quit? Your job?
- Exactly.

Just let old man Slate try
and find a guy who can do

- the job the way I did.
- 'Well, sure, Fred, but--'

While I'm resigning,
I might as well tell Slate.

- What he can do with his job.
- You don't mean--

A letter. I've saved up
a long time to tell that guy.

This is gonna be a real doozy.

Oh, I don't know what I'd do
without your advice, old pal.

Somehow, I don't think I deserve
all the credit for the decision.

Hey, Fred, all those things
you're calling, Mr. Slate

do you think,
they'll let into mail?

This is "My-ail" compared
to how feel about him.

And not only do I think
you're a cheap skate, Mr. Slate

for chiseling a devoted
employee out of a raise.

But, I am quitting because
you're a no good, mean

despicable, insufferable,
skunkasaurus!

Now, how shall I end it?

Uh, how about,
"Love, Fred Flintstone"?

Why?

Incase you'll want Mr. Slate
to give you a reference

for another job.

I don't need any help
from that Pebble head.

You pay taxes like crazy

and there's never a mailbox
around when you need it.

Oh, there'e one over there.

Excuse me, mack. I gotta
drop this air mail letter?

Contact.

[whirring]

vroom

But, Fred,
how about your job?

Wilma? How will
you explain quitting to her?

I'm not worried
about that, pal.

- Oh, you're not?
- Nope.

'I'm sure you'll think
of something.'

M-m-m-me?

You should have no problem
making Wilma understand.

You're a very
convincing man.

Is that so?

You made me realize that
a man should have pride.

- Respect for himself.
- Is that so?

I hope I remember
all those things

when I have
to convince Wilma too.

Delicious, Mrs. Flintstone.
Super yummy.

You must let, Mrs. Slate
have the recipe for this..

Mastadon and Azpec.

Ah, yes. Delicious.

Can't you stay just
a little bit longer, Mr. Slate.

Fred should be back
momentarily.

He'd be thrilled that, you, took
time to come here, personally.

Mr. Flintstone,
eh, Fred is no mere employee.

Not at all, Mrs. Flintstone.

The fact that he
didn't raise a fuss

when because of a bookkeeping
oversight he wasn't notified

of his raise in salary,
is proof positive of that.

Yes, well,
I must be off. Bye, now.

Bye, Mr. Slate.

I just can't wait to see
the expression on Fred's face

when I tell him
he got his raise.

Mr. Slate must think
an awful lot of Fred

to come here
in person to tell him.

I know, Fred, but, somehow
I don't feel responsible.

I didn't talk you into writing
that letter to, Mr. Slate.

- You didn't talk me out of it.
- So?

That makes you responsible
for whatever happens.

Come on, Wilma's home.

- Good, I think I'll go to mine.
- Where's your courage?

- You get up and go.
- He got up and went.

[humming]

thud

Hello, Fred, Barney.
Do I have news for you.

We have news for you, dear.
I mean, Barney has.

Don't you, Barney?

Wilma, I..that is,
he..that is, well

it's about the..
that raise from Mr. Slate.

Oh, then you ran into
Mr. Slate when he left here.

Slate? Left here?

He couldn't already
have received the letter.

Letter? What letter?

- Well--
- Letter..

Let her finish, Barney.

What's this about Slate
being here, Wilma?

To apologize for
the bookkeeping mistake.

And tell you
that you're getting the raise.

Gee, Fred, that's wonderful.
You must be awful proud.

The boss coming here to give
you the good news in person.

Yeah. Oh, I guess I was wrong
about, Mr. Slate, he's swell.

- Not a bad guy..Ohh!
- Ohh!

What's happened?
Anything wrong, Fred?

No, nothing, Barney and I..we
thought we'll go for a stroll.

Down to the mailbox.

Mailbox? Fred, are you trying
to keep something from me?

(Fred)
'No, from Mr. Slate!'

Still a few minutes before
they pick up the mail.

- I'll have to work fast.
- What are you gonna do, Fred?

Get that letter out
of there. That's what.

I can't touch anything yet.

(Fred)
'That's the trouble
with these mail boxes.'

- 'They make 'em too deep.'
- 'Yeah.'

You ought to write a letter
to your congressman to complain.

When this is over..

...I'm through with writing
letters of any kind.

Yeah, dangerous, aren't..

Fred. Oh, Freddy boy.

Uh. Oh, stop that,
Barney, will you?

Trouble, Freddy.
Much trouble.

King sized or
rather cup sized.

Stop nudging me. Just keep
an eye peeled for cops.

You just said the
secret word, Freddy.

What? What secret word?

C-O-P. Cop.

Barney, your voice
is changing!

[laughing nervously]

Hey, nice day,
Officer.

Not for you, it isn't sunny
unless of course you can come up

with a convincing lie
about why you're tampering

with the government mails.

I'm not tampering with
the government mails officer.

- Right, Barney?
- You ain't? I mean, you ain't.

He mailed the letter
and the reason his hand was

in there was because--

Let me guess. He forgot
to wave bye-bye to the letter.

Get that arm out
of there, Pronto!

[screaming]

thud

Now, get out of here and don't
let me catch you at this again.

- Yes, sir.
- Yes, sir.

- Cop gone yet, Barney?
- Duck, here he comes.

Coast is clear now,
Barney, let's go.

Okay.

[drum roll]

boing

I don't get it. I better
lay off that health food.

Coast is clear, Barney,
come on, work fast.

But, if I'm caught,
it'll mean 20 years for me.

But you're younger. You still
have time to enjoy life.

Reach it yet, Barney?

Not quite, Fred?

Now, Barney,
how about now?

Good, I can touch something?

- Hold it there, Fred?
- Oh, oh. The cop, quick, out.

(Barney)
'Ouch.'

- 'What's the big idea, Fred?'
- Shh. Cop's back.

I thought I told
you to scram.

Why, officer? Is it against
the law to lean on mailboxes?

Well, it's not
in the regulations.

Well, good day, officer. Hope
I'm not keeping you from rounds.

No, but, I'm keeping
my eye on you.

Coast is clear, Barney.

I can't tell which is yours.
It's dark in here.

Oh, fine.

Here, Barney,
now, you can see.

Okay, Fred, I'll have
your letter in a jiffy.

Quiet, Barney, the man
in blue is here again.

Good day, Mr. mailbox leaner.

- Having fun?
- It's the only way to live?

Anything wrong?

No, just a little calisthenics,
to get my skin fit you know.

You always exercise
in front of mailboxes?

Doesn't everybody?

[sniffing]

- Hey, you smell smoke?
- Me?

[sniffing]

- No.
- There it is!

Smoke from inside
the mailbox.

Ah, could be one of those
fan letters to a movie star.

Some of them
can be pretty hot, you know.

Look, there's a fire
in there!

You better get some water
and put it out, officer.

Yeah.
Be right back.

- That was close. Hurry, Barney.
- Okay, Fred.

(Barney)
'There's a lot of letters
to go through.'

- Out of the way!
- But officer.

The mail!
It might burn up!

That should do it.

[coughing]

Oh, what's the big idea?

I just--

That voice? That came
from inside the mailbox.

- Exactly where I threw it.
- Huh?

- I'm an amateur ventriloquist.
- Ventriloquist?

(Barney sneezes)

Gesundheit.

-'Thank you.'
- You're wel--

Somebody in there? Probably
trying to steal the mail.

He might be dangerous, I'll
stand guard while you get help.

Yeah, thanks,
I'll never forget you.

I wish you would.

Hurry, now, Barney, but, fast.

- Pardon me, sir.
- Huh? Oh, the mailman.

- What happened here?
- Uh, the strangest thing.

I know. You dropped that letter
in the box and forgot to let go.

Happens all the time.

I'll take that letter.

Well, now, you've done it.

Had it in your hand and now,
it's on it's way to Mr. Slate.

[officer whistling]

The cops. Come on.

- He's in there.
- You sure?

A mail crook.

Come out, you,
with your hands up.

clang

Don't move, you,
we've got you cov..

Hey, he's gone!

Yeah, and I'm going.

So help me, Riley.
One more of these goofs.

(Riley crying)

- And you'll be pounding a beat.
- 'No!'

- At Far Rockaway.
- No! No!

Not there.

(Wilma)
'Breakfast is ready, Fred.'

'Out of bed, today is work day.'

It won't be for me when
Mr. Slate reads that letter.

Come on, Fred or do I
have to yank you out of bed.

(Fred)
'Oh-h-h!'

Fred, it's half past.
What are you doing in bed?

Shivering. I don't think
I can go back to work ever.

I'm-I'm sick.

- 'Isn't this rather sudden?'
- Well, it's a sudden disease.

Instant pneumonia.

I-I think I'm gonna die.
At least I hope so.

Stick out your tongue. Come on.
Your tongue looks alright.

That's not what's sick.
It's the rest of me.

Wilma, there's something
I gotta tell you.

- 'Yes?'
- Wilma, I--

Close the door, I feel adrift.

Now, don't move and stay in bed.

I'll fix you some
nice brontosaurus broth.

- It'll make you feel better.
- Morning, Wilma. Where's Fred?

- In bed.
- But he'll be late for work.

And me too.
It's his turn to drive.

He's not going
to work Barney.

Oh, Slate's already gotten it.

- 'Gotten what, Barney?'
- Uh, didn't Fred tell you?

- Tell me what?
- Uh, nothing.

I'll go in and say
goodbye to Fred.

Maybe Slate won't
fire you Fred, if you explained.

After all
nobody's perfect.

You remember the things
I called Slate in that letter?

Yes sir!

Morning, Mr. Wilcox.
That all the mail for us today.

Sorry, Mrs. Flintstone
but we mailmen..

(together)
just deliver it,
don't write it.

Sorry, this is the one your
husband sent out the other day.

It was sent back
for insufficient postage.

- Oh.
- Two cents, please.

Uh, maybe Fred
has some change.

I suggest
you tell her the truth.

Not while I can keep coming up
with believable lies.

(Wilma)
'Fred.'

It's Wilma.

[groaning]

Gosh, Fred,
you sound worse.

Oh, I am worse.
Feels like Spanish flu.

[teeth chattering]

Could be. His teeth
sound like castor nuts.

I'll call a doctor.

I'll be alright.
All I need is rest.

Then you'll be getting
plenty of that from now on.

I'll call Mr. Slate and tell him
you won't be coming in.

Never mind.
He must know that now..

...since I'm not there already.

- 'What are you looking for?'
- I need a few pennies.

- Be my guest.
- 'Thanks, Barney.'

Maybe you better
get to work, Barney.

- Nothing you can do.
- 'I can help you worry.'

That I can handle myself.
Here's Wilma.

Uh, who was out at the door?

The mailman. He brought back
the letter you sent yesterday.

(Barney and Fred)
'He did?'

My troubles are over.
Yabadabadoo!

Fred, you shouldn't be out
of bed. You're a sick man.

Not anymore, honey.
Not anymore.

[upbeat music]

Where is that letter?

On it's way
to whoever you sent it to.

That's what those coins
were for. Insufficient postage.

Oh-h-h! You did it!

thud

You're always
putting in your two cents.

Well, I didn't realize.

'That's your trouble.
Never realizing.'

Oh! Now, I am sick.

Move over.
I'm sick too.

I demand to know
what this is all about.

Now!

Wilma, darlin', gorgeous,
beautiful--

'Now.'

Well..

Any help
will be appreciated.

It was like this, Wilma.

And that's
the whole miserable truth.

Wilma, please, forgive me.

That letter, Fred,
you sure you left nothing out?

No, I called Slate every nasty
thing I could think of.

If there's one thing Fred
learned as a sergeant

in the army,
it's a vocabulary.

You don't hate me
or stuff like that, do you?

How can I? You're
the same stubborn, unthinking

quick tempered mule
I loved and married.

Oh, Wilma, that's the nicest
thing you ever said to me.

You kids will be alright.
Fred's lost jobs before.

Yes, but never one
with the raise.

You better get to work, Barney.
No use losing your job.

I'm taking a day off. You're
gonna need a friend today.

Thanks pal. Say,
I may have to borrow car fair.

To look for jobs, Fred?

No. To pick up
my unemployment checks.

Any idea what you're going
to say to Mr. Slate, Wilma?

No, but I just have to get
Fred's job back somehow.

Well, you're not going
to lower yourself

to beg and plead
to Mr. Slate?

That's a silly question.
Of course, I am.

[engine revving]

Did you ring, Mr. Slate?

Yes, Connie.

I'm Alice, Mr. Slate.

Oh-Oh, I can't see a darn thing
without my glasses.

Where are
the pesky things anyway?

'In your hand, Mr. Slate.'

Huh? Oh, yes!
Yes, of course.

Uh, which hand, Alice?

Uh! That's better.

Now, to read
the morning mail.

knock knock knock

(Mr. Slate)
'Come in.'

(Mr. Slate)
'Ah! Mrs. Flintstone.'

A pleasure to see you.

I hope I'm not interrupting
something important, Mr. Slate?

No, hardly,
Mrs. Flintstone.

Always have the time to chat
with the wife of an employee.

Uh, you mean Fr-Fred is-is
he still with you, Mr. Slate?

'Naturally.'

Now, what's on your mind,
Mrs. Flintstone?

Then you haven't
read the morning mail?

The letter
from my Fred.

The dear boy wrote me?

Probably a note of thanks
for his salary raise.

It must be
around here somewhere.

Ah! Here it is.

"From Fred Flintstone."
This is it.

Uh, uh,
thi-this is it alright.

First thank you letter
an employee ever sent me.

The lenses of my glasses
are so fogged up.

I can't see through them.

Oh, let me wipe them,
Mr. Slate.

Oops!

That wasn't what
it sounded like, was it?

I'm sorry, Mr. Slate.

Now, now, don't fret,
Mrs. Flintstone.

I have another pair
at my residence.

I just can't wait to read your
husband's letter to hear--

Then why wait? I'll read
it to you right now.

'Well, Thank you,
Mrs. Flintstone.'

My pleasure.

[clearing throat]

"My dear, wonderful,
kind, big hearted

"marvelous, Mr. Slate.

Well, it starts off sort
of flattering, doesn't it?

It gets much more, uh,
fla-flattering.

"You are more than
a-a kind

"just lion hearted employer,
Mr. Slate.

"You are a b.., uh, beacon

"'lighting the way
to a better understanding'

'"between your employees
and yourself.'

Hmm.

Fred, Wilma's doing
what she thinks is right.

And Betty agrees
or she wouldn't have told you.

Well, I'm not gonna let Wilma
get down on hands and knees

and plead my case
to get my job back.

I got pride.

- Besides, it might not work.
- Exactly.

That ain't why
I'm gonna stop Wilma.

[screeching]

"And in conclusion, Mr. Slate,
may I thank you for acting

"as a shepherd to us,
your flock

"and leading us forward
in safety and trust.

"Yours with the greatest
admiration

respect and eternal gratitude,
Fred Flintstone."

Beautiful.

I've never been
so understood by anyone

as by your brilliant
husband.

(Wilma)
'Fred just wrote
from his heart, Mr. Slate.'

Wilma, I--

Oh! Fr-Fred.

Uh, we were just discussing--

Your letter to me, Flintstone.
Interesting, very.

Uh, not what
I ever expected.

Uh-Uh, you mean, he knows?

Uh, exactly
how you feel about him.

Uh, Mr. Slate, it was written
before I had time to think.

For only a little thought,
my boy. You did terrific.

Yeah, didn't I?

(Mr. Slate)
'The part about me being
the shepherd of my flock here.'

Shepherd?

You captured
the real spirit of my attitude

towards my employees,
Freddy boy.

- The real me.
- Yeah.

Uh, you write
so beautifully, Fred.

It was a pleasure for me
to read the letter to Mr. Slate.

Oh! You read it to him, Wilma.

After she happened
to break my glasses.

Accidently, of course.

Of course. We'll replace them,
won't we, Fred?

Out of my raise
in salary.

Well, Fred has to get back
to work and, uh, so do you

I'm sure, Mr. Slate.

Uh, may I have Fred's letter,
Mrs. Flintstone?

Uh, th-th-the letter?

- You want it?
- 'I'd like to frame it.'

As a memento of one
of my employees esteem.

[mumbling]

- Of course, yeah.
- Sure.

Uh, here you are,
Mr. Slate.

Oops!

Don't tell me.

Oh! Sorry.

Uh, guess I'm, uh, well,
butter fingers, you know.

Yeah.

May I see you to your car,
Mrs., uh, butter fingers?

muah

[laughing]

[theme music]

boing

[yawning]

[music continues]

clink

boing

slam

bang bang bang

Wilma.

[clanging]

'Wilma!'

'Come on, Wilma,
open the door!'

'Wilma!'