03x34 - John Wilson Wins a Chicken

[bunniefuu]

-Well, bye, Mom.

Bye, Dad.

-Bye, son.

-Goodbye, dear.

-Hey, you're leaving kind

of early, aren't you?

-Yeah.

Hey mom.

This is your last chance

to buy some more chances.

Our school chicken

raffle is today.

-Well, thank you,

dear, but I think

the five we already

have are enough.

-Chicken raffle?

-Dennis' teacher put some eggs

in an incubator a few months

back so the children

could watch them hatch.

-Ms. Perkins says

we're not old enough

to learn about the

birds and the bees yet,

but chickens are OK,

whatever that means.

-So now the chickens

have grown up.

-Yeah.

They're so big we've

gotta keep them in a pen.

And dad, they've got names.

Red, Sylvia,

Marian, and Cynthia.

-You don't say.

-Anyhow, now the children are

raffling off the chickens.

-And the kids are

gonna use the money

to throw a big party

the last day of school

and eat ourselves sick.

-Sounds like a worthwhile cause.

[theme music]

-Hi Mrs. Wilson.

-Good morning, Dennis.

-Oh, is Mr. Wilson's

brother up yet?

-No, he's still asleep, but he

asked me to call him about now,

so you go on up and do it

and I'll bring up his juice.

-Oh boy.

Him and me have got an important

business deal to talk over.

-Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Wilson!

-What?

What?

-Hi Mr. Wilson.

It's me, Dennis.

-Oh, for the love

of-- For a moment

I thought I was

having a nightmare.

-Guess what, Mr. Wilson.

This is your last chance to

give me a dime to win a chicken.

-Little boy, I

told you yesterday,

I am not interested

in participating

in any raffle for a chicken.

-But that was yesterday.

If you don't have

a dime, Mr. Wilson,

I'll be glad to lend you one.

-I have a dime, Dennis.

It's just that I am

not interested in--

[phone ringing]

-Hello?

Yes, this is he.

Well, yes I have.

You would?

Uh, well, I, uh-- yes,

that sounds reasonable.

Y-yes, Mr. Hanson.

Oh, no, no.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

Oh joy!

-Here's your juice, John.

-Oh, thank you, Martha.

Oh, I knew this was

going to be my day.

Dennis and I were just

talking about dimes

when this coin

collector, a Mr. Hanson.

He called and offered me $

for my D dime, $ more

than it's worth.

-Well, that's wonderful.

-He's coming into town today

or tomorrow and he'll call me.

$ for one thin dime.

Just think of that, Martha.

-I wonder how he knew

you were staying here.

-Oh, well he called

me before I left Ohio.

I told him I was coming here

and he said he'd get in touch.

-I didn't know you had a coin

collection too, Mr. Wilson.

-You didn't?

My boy, for your information,

I was the first member

of the Wilson clan to

have a coin collection.

I taught them all everything

they know about it,

right Martha?

-Right John.

You better get dressed.

I'll go start your breakfast.

-Gosh.

Just think, Mr. Wilson, you

can buy one whole chance from

me and still have $ . left.

-My boy.

I'm going to do something

better than that.

-You are?

-Yes, my boy.

You put me down chances.

And now run along to school.

-Oh boy.

A whole dollar!

-That's right, the whole dollar.

-I like you, Mr. Wilson.

-Well, thank you, Dennis.

I like you too.

-You do?

Hey, you know what I'm gonna do

when I come home from school?

-No, what?

-I'm going to come

right over here

and keep you company

for the rest of the day.

-I wonder if I'm too old to cry.

-Mr. Wilson!

Hey Mr. Wilson!

We'll put it right here, Tommy.

-Dennis, what is it this time?

I-- What's this?

-You won a chicken!

-What?

Martha.

Well, I knew this

was my lucky day,

but-- Well, I just

can't believe it.

-His name's Fred.

-He's a boy chicken.

He's called a rooster, Seymour.

-That's right.

Fred rooster.

-Yes, John?

You called me?

-Mr. Wilson won a chicken.

-Can you believe it, Martha?

-Well, my goodness.

He's certainly a chubby

chicken, isn't he?

-I guess you'll be

wanting to build Fred

a bigger chicken

coop, huh, Mr. Wilson?

-I'll even make some

side curtains for it

if you'd like, Mr. Wilson.

-Well, I hardly think that

will be necessary, children.

-Oh, here's some

chicken feed for you.

-Oh, thank you, Dennis.

-He eats like a horse.

-Oh, well, that's

all right, so long

as he tastes like a chicken.

-Tastes like a chicken?

Jeepers, Mr. Wilson.

You're not going to

eat Fred, are ya?

-Well, of course I am, Dennis.

What do you usually

do with chicken?

-But you can't!

-You think he's tough?

-He's our pet.

-He used to be an egg.

-Don't you like

chickens, Mr. Wilson?

-Well, of course

I do, little girl.

Especially the drumstick.

-Why don't you pick on

somebody your own size?

-Come on, kids.

-John, don't you

think perhaps you

should think about this before--

-Now, Martha, chicken

are domesticated fowl

specially raised for

human consumption.

Now, I won it fair and square.

It's the first thing I've

ever won in a raffle,

and I intend to eat it.

-Well, then you will

have to cook it.

-And we, the undersigned,

"respeckably" ask--

-Respectfully, Dennis.

F-U-L-L-Y.

-Respectfully ask you to not

eat our little friend Fred.

If you treat Fred right, he

will be as faithful and a loyal

a pet as Fremont.

-He could lay eggs, too.

-Seymour, Fred's a rooster.

He can't lay eggs.

-Maybe he hasn't tried.

-Quiet, kids.

So we ask you again,

Mr. Wilson, if you

Fred at your table

for dinner some night,

please have him

there as a friend.

-We've already got eight

people to sign it, Mrs. Elkins,

and you'll make it nine.

-It's very well put,

children, and something

I'm very much in sympathy with.

However, I'm afraid a mere

petition won't stop your Mr.

Wilson, if he's anything

like his brother George.

-It won't?

-No, Dennis.

This problem calls

for direct action.

Come on in, children.

-Oh, here's an interesting

recipe, Martha.

Fix chicken on

spit over low fire,

occasionally basting

with orange sauce.

Oh.

Well, of course we could

broil it, or roast it.

What do you think, Martha?

-I think we should have

meatloaf, as I planned.

-Oh, Martha, you're my

favorite sister-in-law,

but if you're trying to talk

me out of that chicken--

[phone ringing]

-Oh, I'll, I'll get it.

It's probably that coin

collector, Mr. Hanson.

Hello?

-This is Mrs.

Elkins, Mr. Wilson.

I live down the block.

-Who is it?

-Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Elkins?

It's a Mrs. Elkins.

You no doubt want

to talk to Martha?

-On the contrary, Mr. Wilson,

I wish to speak to you.

-You do?

-Mr. Wilson, I am chairman

of the local United Fund

to Save Our Feathered Friends.

-Oh, really?

I wasn't aware that I had any.

-Mr. Wilson, this is

no laughing matter.

I am referring to one

feathered friend in particular.

-His name's Fred!

-Uh, Fred.

The children's pet chicken.

Mr. Wilson, you ought to

be ashamed of yourself.

A grown man picking on a

poor, defenseless child's pet.

-What I do with

that silly fowl is

no business of

yours, Mrs. Elkins.

-I am making it my

business, Mr. Wilson.

-Oh, you are?

Well, listen here.

You are not going to tell me

what to do with my chicken,

you--

-Well!

Nasty, nasty man.

If such a thing

is possible, he's

even worse than his brother.

-He's still gonna eat Fred, huh?

-Over my dead body, Dennis.

There must be some

way of keeping him

from eating that poor chicken.

-Maybe let's give him one

of your cats, instead.

-Little boy!

-People don't eat cats, Seymour.

-They're too bony.

-Children, please.

You're scaring Tinkerbell.

There, there, darling.

-What are we gonna

do now, Mrs. Elkins?

-Just a minute, Dennis.

I'm thinking.

-I'm hungry.

-Shh!

Mrs. Elkins is

thinking, Seymour.

-Let me see.

What did I do in the

campaign of my club's help

save the hollyhocks

in our parks?

Of course.

That's it!

-Oh, boy!

What's what, Mrs. Elkins?

-Come along, children.

With a little fresh

paint, I think

I have the answer

right in my garage.

-Fred?

Fred?

Yeah, Fred.

Now, I don't want you

to take this personally,

because this sort

of thing happens

to thousands of

chickens every day.

Fred.

-John.

Oh, I do wish you wouldn't.

-Martha, I assure

you, the children

will have forgotten all

about it by tomorrow.

Now, go on in, and let

me get on with this.

Fred?

It won't do you a bit of good

to look at me with those soft

brown eyes.

Martha?

-Yes, John?

-Ah, Martha, would you get

the small strip of cloth?

I think I'll

blindfold him first.

-Blindfold him?

While you're at

it, why don't you

tie his hands and feet together,

lean him up against the wall,

offer him one last

cigarette, and sh**t him?

-You don't have to be

sarcastic about it.

-John, why don't you just k*ll

the poor, defenseless thing

and get it over with?

-Martha!

On second thought,

I think I'll let

him fatten up for a few days.

-I didn't think you'd be

able to k*ll that chicken.

-Oh, is that so?

Would you just wait?

I'll--

CHILDREN (CHANTING):

He's our friend!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred!

He's our friend!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred!

He's our friend!

Don't eat Fred!

He's our friend!

-Well, of all the--

-He's our friend!

-Uh, Mrs. Elkins, I presume?

-That's right, Mr. Wilson.

-And just what do you think you

and your midget army are doing?

-She's helping us to talk you

out of eating Fred, Mr. Wilson.

-I see.

You realize you're

trespassing, of course?

-Oh, John.

-Please, Martha.

I'll handle this.

-Go right ahead, Mr. Wilson.

Call the police.

We are quite prepared to

go to jail to save a life.

Right, children?

-That's right, Mrs. Elkins!

-Oh, this is ridiculous!

Just what do you expect me

to do with that silly bird?

Adopt it?

He's a chicken.

I won him, and if I want to

eat him, I'm going to eat him.

-You cannibal.

-Cannibal?

You agitator!

-Excuse, me, folks.

-Oh, hello, Henry.

-Mr. Mitchell, can

you talk this am out

of the wanton spilling

of innocent blood?

-The wanton spilling of--

now, see here, Mrs. Elkins--

-Don't you shake your

fat finger at me.

-Is that so?

It's my fat finger, and if I--

-Mrs. Elkins, let's see if we

can't settle this amicably.

Now, let's see.

John, you won the chicken,

and you want to eat it.

Correct?

-That is correct, Henry.

-And the children

and you, Mrs. Elkins,

want to spare the

chicken's life.

-Precisely.

-Well now, John,

supposing you were

to be given a chicken

the same size as Fred,

only freshly dressed, in return

for which you would allow Fred

to stay here, with the children

taking care of him, of course,

until they found

another home for him,

would that be all

right with you?

-Well--

-It certainly sounds

fair to me, John.

-All right, Henry.

I agree.

-I'll go along with

that, Mr. Mitchell.

-Oh, boy!

Did you hear that, kids?

Fred's safe!

[cheering]

-Now, don't you

kids forget you're

to find Fred a new home

as soon as possible.

-All right, children.

Fall in.

Let's take the signs

back to my garage.

[whistle] Forward march!

-Huh, to you, too.

[crowing]

[crowing]

- : in the morning.

[crowing]

-Oh, shut up!

Ah!

Ah!

[crowing]

-Will you please--

[knocking]

-Yes?

-Is anything wrong?

-Not with me, but something

tells me our friend

out there is not too

long for this world.

-You promised the children that

you wouldn't hurt that chicken.

-I'm not going to

hurt him, Martha.

I'm going to k*ll him!

-John Wilson, I'm

disappointed in you.

A promise is a promise.

-Oh, all right, Martha.

You didn't promise.

-Oh, John!

[crowing]

[crowing]

-There's your happy

chicken, Alice.

I hope you're satisfied.

-My chicken?

-You talked me into saving

that silly rooster's life,

didn't you?

[crowing]

-Henry, where are you going?

-Mr. Wilson's brother promised

not to k*ll that chicken,

but I didn't.

-Henry Mitchell, you

get right back in bed.

[crowing]

[phone ringing]

[crowing]

[phone ringing]

-Yes?

-Mr. Wilson, the

least you can do

is to put that noisy

chicken in your basement,

so that it doesn't wake

up the whole neighborhood.

-Why, Mrs. Elkins, do

you mean to tell me

that our feathered

friend woke you u

-Woke me up?

Of course he woke me up!

-Good.

You made your bed.

Now you can toss on it!

-Hey, Mr. Wilson, Mr. Wilson.

-Oh, uh, Dennis, did you

find a new home-- oh, no.

Your father said I'd get one all

dressed and ready for the oven.

-Oh, this one isn't

for eating, Mr. Wilson.

This is Marian, another pet.

-Good heavens.

-We haven't found a

home for Fred yet,

but the lady that won Marian

didn't want her, either.

-So, we thought maybe if you

put Fred and Marian together,

and treated 'em nice, maybe

they'd make you some eggs.

Come on, Tommy.

-Dennis, I don't want any eggs.

I don't want

another pet chicken.

All I want is to get

rid of the one I have.

-Well, hello, boys.

-Oh, hi, Sgt. Mooney.

Mr. Wilson, this is Sgt. Mooney.

-We've already met,

Dennis, Well, Sergeant,

what can I do for

you this fine day?

-Eh, those aren't chickens I

see there, are they, Mr. Wilson?

-Those?

Of course not.

Those are butterflies

with gland trouble.

-Well, it so happens

that we've had

a complaint about a certain

butterfly with gland trouble

that's been crowing his

silly head off all night.

-Oh, you don't say?

And who complained?

A jealous rooster?

-Mrs. Elkins.

-Yeah-- Mrs. Elkins?

Why that-- that--

well, she's the reason

that rooster's here

in the first place!

-I can't help that.

There's a city ordinance

about keeping chickens

in a residential area.

-Now see here, sergeant!

Only one of those chickens is

mine, and I'm getting rid of it

today.

-Good.

That'll save you from getting

another ticket tomorrow.

-But sergeant,

I-- tell you what.

You forget that ticket, and you

can have both those chickens.

-What?

-Both of them.

They-- the pen thrown in.

-Hey, that's a swell

idea, Mr. Wilson.

-They do look nice

and plump, don't they?

-And all you gotta

do, Sgt. Mooney,

is to promise to keep them as

pets instead of eating them.

-Keep them as pets?

-Sure.

They make swell little friends.

-Well, you see, sergeant, I

sort of promised the children

that they wouldn't be k*lled.

-Listen, my friend, if you

weren't George Wilson's

brother, I'd haul

you in for trying

to bribe an officer of the law.

The idea, trying to

corrupt an honest cop

with a couple of pet chickens.

Here.

-Oh, that--

-Don't say it, Mr. Wilson.

Remember, there are

little kids around here.

-John.

Mr. Hanson just called.

-Yeah?

And?

-He said he'd be here

any minute to inspect

that rare dime of yours.

-Oh, the coin collect-- Why

didn't you say so, Martha?

I'd better get ready.

-Well Tommy, I guess we'll just

have to find Fred a new place

where he can sleep

nights so he won't--

-Hey, Dennis.

Do you see what I see?

-Oh boy, she did it.

She did it!

It's an egg.

Marian laid an egg!

Mr. Wilson!

Mr. Wilson!

Come quick!

-Dennis, what is it?

-Come over here, Mr. Wilson.

-What?

-Down there, look!

-Well, what is it?

-Don't you see it?

Marian laid an egg for you.

-Dennis, did you drag me all

the way out here just to--

-Hey Mr. Wilson, you

dropped something.

-My dime.

-Uh oh.

Fred just swallowed something.

-Whatever it was, he sure had

a hard time getting it down.

-Did-- Did-- That beast

swallowed my dime.

I'll k*ll it.

I'll k*ll--

-No you won't, Mr. Wilson!

Remember, you promised!

-Give me my dime

back, you thief!

-He's not a thief.

He found it.

-John, Mr. Hanson is here.

-Fred.

Cough.

I haven't got time now, Martha.

I-- oh!

Oh, Mr. Hanson.

-All ready to show

me your D dime?

dime.

Oh, yes, of course.

-You do still have it?

-Uh, ye-- yes.

There's just one thing.

-It's inside Fred.

-Dennis, please.

-Inside who?

-Fred.

-Yeah.

Mr. Hanson, there's

been a little accident.

But in view of the

price you have offered,

I'm willing to give

you the dime and throw

in those two chickens.

-Two chickens?

But--

-But remember, Mr.

Wilson, he's gotta promise

to give Fred and Marian a good

home until they die of old age.

-Dennis, please.

-Now, you see, Mr. Hanson--

-Jeepers, mister,

you'll not only get

your dime and two swell pets--

-But fresh eggs besides.

-Children, let me

do the talking.

Mr. Hanson, I will

personally guarantee

that the dime

inside that chicken

is exactly as represented.

And I, uh, well,

I'm not finished.

-Well, I am.

You nut, you!

-Mr. Hanson!

That does it.

I'll m*rder that two legged

slot machine with my bare hands.

-Look Mr. Wilson!

Fred didn't swallow

your dime after all.

-Mr. Hanson!

Mr. Hanson, I've got it!

Mr. Hanson!

Mr. Hanson!

Mr. Hanson!

Hold it!

Mr. Hanson!

Mr. Hanson!

Mr. Hanson!

-Mr. Wilson!

-Hello Alice, Henry.

-We've got good

news for you, John.

-We've just talked to Phil

Tyler, a distant relative

with a farm upstate,

and he said he'd

be glad to give

Fred a good home.

-Did you hear that, Tommy?

-Hey, what about

Marian, Mrs. Mitchell?

-Marian?

-She's the girl

chicken visiting Fred.

-I don't see why he

should have any objection

to take Fred's girlfriend along.

-Oh boy.

Isn't that swell, Mr. Wilson?

-Oh, it's just

patchy dandy, Dennis.

-Now John, you should

be glad everything's

turned out so well.

You've got your

valuable dime back

and Fred's got a good home.

Well, I-- I suppose

you're right, Martha.

-Gosh.

Just think.

Fred and Marian

can live together

and raise a family

like other chickens.

-Nobody's gonna eat him up.

-That's right Tommy.

-You better come along, Dennis.

Time to get cleaned up.

We're almost ready for dinner.

-OK, bye Tommy.

-Bye Dennis.

-Bye.

-What are we having

for dinner, mom?

-Fried chicken.

-Oh boy.

-Great Caesar.

[theme music]