09x11 - German Guy

[bunniefuu]

♪ It seems today that all you see ♪
♪ is v*olence in movies and sex on TV. ♪
♪ But where are those good old-fashioned values ♪
♪ on which we used to rely? ♪
♪ Lucky there's a family guy. ♪
♪ Lucky there's a man who positively can do ♪
♪ all the things that make us ♪
♪ laugh and cry. ♪
♪ He's... a... Fam... ily... Guy! ♪

♪ Family Guy 9x12 ♪
German Guy
Original Air Date on February 20, 2011

Everyone, we need to discuss our problem with Chris.

His little habit of, uh, personal amusement is getting way out of hand.

I mean, look at this.

What's that, some kind of board?

It's Chris' blanket.

We've got to do something about this.

I'm pretty sure our washing machine is pregnant.

I don't even know how that's scientifically possible.

Uh, life, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh... finds a way.

You know, maybe you guys should help find Chris a hobby.

Wait a minute, Brian, that's a great idea.

Chris needs a hobby.

Hey, Chris, get in here.

Yeah, Dad?

We are gonna find you a hobby.

What do you think of that?

Okay.

There you go, that's the spirit.

Yuck.

Hey, Christopher. What are you up to?

Hi, Mr. Herbert.

My dad's helping me find a hobby.

Well, you sure got a pretty morning for it.

Chris, don't waste our time with the elderly.

They're dying.

Please, God, let me just sniff his hat.

Let me just sniff his hat, that's all I want.

(sniffs)

Now I want more.

Okay, Chris, this is the gentle art of philately, otherwise known as stamp collecting.

Here's a pile of stamps, carefully culled from swap meets and garage sales.

And look at this.

It's a Bolivian airplane.

Now, it says it's worth eight cents, but really... it's worth twelve.

See that? Already ahead.

Came right out of the blocks with a winner here, Chris.

Now, we'll just paste this very carefully into the book.

And that's where it belongs.

Now this is a loaded handgun.

And what we're gonna do now is k*ll ourselves because this is horrible.

Couldn't we just stop philateling?

Too late. (g*nsh*t)

All right, Chris, this is one of the oldest hobbies in existence: Drinking.

Hey, hey, good times just walked in.

(applause and cheering)

Horace: Oh, hey, he can't be in here. He's not 21.

All right, just hang out here for a little bit, huh?

(slurring words): All right, see you later, g*ng.

Chris, what are you doing here?

You're supposed to be at camp.

What am I paying for?

I could have gone pro if it wasn't for my bum knee.

(snoring)

(sighs)

(gasps) Wow!

That is so cool. What is it?

Man (with German accent): It's a puppet.

Welcome.

I am Franz Gutentag, and this is my puppet shop.

Puppets.

And I thought I'd seen everything.

My name is Chris.

Well, Chris, puppetry is a wonderful art form.

You can create an entire world right before your eyes and watch it come to life.

Wow.

What's that one over there?

Ah. That is a work in progress.

It is waiting to become anything we wish it to be.

My name is Chris, and I like candy and jumping and colorful birds.

Wow! What else do I like?

You like the pop singing of today.

(synthesized pop music playing)

♪ Two, three, ich berleg' bei mir ♪

♪ ihr' nas'n spricht daf whrenddessen ich noch rauch'. ♪
♪ Die special places sind ihr wohlbekannt ♪
♪ ich mein', sie fhrt ja u-bahn auch. ♪
♪ Dort singen's dreh' dich nicht, um... ♪

♪ Ooh, oh, oh... ♪

♪ Schau, schau... ♪
♪ Der kommissar geht, um... ♪

♪ Ooh, oh, oh... ♪

Yay!

That was the German-est thing I've ever seen.

I'm so glad you like it, Chris.

Would you like to try?

Oh, boy, would I?!

I'm a vampire, and I'm in love with this unattractive girl.

Grr, I'm a werewolf, and I am also in love with this unattractive girl.

Boy, she sure can act though, can't she?

Nope.

The end. (laughing)

Bravo, Chris!

You have really tapped into the wonder and enchantment that is puppetry.

Plus I move these dolls and make like they're talking.

Yes. Right.

Thanks for showing me how to do it and being so nice to me, Mr. Gutentag.

Call me Franz.

Okay. Franz.

You know, Chris, seeing a young person like you enjoy puppetry makes me so happy.

I feel like we could become good friends.

That sounds like fun.

Wow, I think you're just about my most favorite guy who's gonna die soon.

That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

Oh, no!

(knocking on door)

Mr. Griffin, I'm sorry to bother you, but there's a...

Well, there's a situation, and we need to talk.

Look, if this is about those droppings in your yard, it was, uh, uh, Brian.

Yeah, Brian.

No, it's this man Chris is hanging out with.

He's bad news.

Why? What's the problem?

Chris is friends with a n*zi!

What?!

At first I wasn't sure it was him, but I got a closer look, and now there's no question in my mind.

Franz Gutentag is really Lieutenant Franz Schlechtnacht, the most sadistic S.S. guard in all of h*tler's concentration camps.

That's a very serious accusation.

How do you know this man was a n*zi prison guard?

'Cause I was there.

It was 1944.

I was a young Air Force pilot assigned as part of an escort for a bombing raid over southern Germany, when we encountered the Luftwaffe.

At first we thought we were in the clear because the Germans were frightened by the scary shark face on the front of our plane.

Ah! A shark!

How did it get all the way up here in the sky?!

Who cares, you fool?!

Do you want to get eaten? Retreat!

But there was one stubborn pilot who saw through our disguise.

(machine g*ns f*ring)

Most of the surviving American pilots were taken to POW camps, but for some reason, they thought I was gay, so I was taken to a concentration camp.

Behind those walls, there was one guard who decided everyone's fate.

If he pointed to the left, you did hard labor.

If he pointed to the right, you d*ed.

That man was Franz Schlechtnacht.

I was spared death, but I was given hard labor.

He made me sort the camp recyclables.

But some of those bottles still had a little bit of soda in 'em.

It would spill out on my hands and make 'em kind of sticky.

Dear God, how my hands would get kind of sticky!

(screaming)

(evil laughter)

No one should have to suffer the way I suffered!

So that's why Chris should stay away from that puppet store guy.

That all sounds kind of sketchy.

Wait, are you Jamie Kennedy?

Am I... Am I being skunked or puked or whatever some (bleep)?

I'm telling you the truth.

I swear on my nephew's grave.

I don't know, Franz seems like such a nice old man.

Y... You know, maybe we should just invite him for dinner and clear this whole thing up.

Yeah, you know, we got no right passing judgment without getting to know him.

Isn't that right, Scottish Chipmunk?

Yeah, he doesn't talk, but, uh, he's a chipmunk, and he's Scottish, and he would back me up on this.

Chris, wait. Where you going?

I'm going to Mr. Gutentag's house.

You can't.

Why not?

Chris, his name isn't Gutentag, it's Schlechtnacht, and he's a n*zi.

What?!

It's true.

You got to stay away from that terrible man.

Mr. Gutentag isn't a terrible man.

He's my friend.

Chris, you don't understand, I'm trying to help you.

Help me what?

Clean your pool with my shirt off, or wash your car in jean shorts, bend over in front of you to get little bits of lint out of the rug?

I know what you're about, Mr. Herbert: Free labor, and I'm not into it.

Chris, you have to choose.

It's either Franz or me.

Chris, what's the matter? You look upset.

Mr. Herbert was saying terrible things about you.

He said you liked h*tler, and your name isn't really Gutentag.

Oh, Chris, you can't always believe what you hear.

For example, everybody thinks that prostitution is illegal, but there are ways around it.

All right, let's do it.

Both of you are under arrest for prostitution.

It's not prostitution.

You paid her to have sex.

No, I paid her to have sex and we're filming it.

So, technically it's not prostitution, it's a p*rn.

Oh, well, as long as you're filming and selling it, it's legal.

Enjoy your day.

Remember kids, she's not a whore if she's an actress.

Announcer: This has been a message from: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

(knocking on door)

Oh, that's probably mean old Mr. Herbert again.

Dad? Excuse me, Chris, I got to talk to Mr. Pupenchest here.

Good day to you, Mr. Griffin.

Say, listen, my wife and I appreciate how nice you've been to my son with all the puppets and whatnot, and, uh, we wanted to invite you over for dinner.

Oh, wonderful.

And I shall celebrate our friendship by giving you a hand-carved German wall clock.

Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

I could not find the clock.

Aw.

But you got three of them on the wall over there.

Yes, those are mine.

Oh.

Yeah, I need those.

Uh-huh.

I just don't know why you said it then.

Mr. Gutentag, can I use the bathroom?

Of course. Down the hall to the right.

It's the door marked: "Gluckmachnichten- mechwerchtichlieber."

What the...?

So now you know the truth.

I promise I won't tell anyone!

Just let my dad go!

Oh, I am afraid that is quite impossible.

You're not gonna get away with this, Mr. Googlesearch.

Oh, but I think that I will.

You two know my secret.

I must be sure no one ever finds out the truth.

So what? Are you gonna k*ll us?

Perhaps, Mr. Griffin.

I have not yet decided.

Well, you might want to do something about that first.

What?

Quick, sh**t him, Chris! What are you waiting for?!

I... I... How do I know which one to sh**t?

What?

How do I know which one is the real Dad?!

I... We... We never switched.

We don't even look the same!

All right, when's my birthday?

Ah, crap.

February eighth.

(gasps)

Dad!

There. That's more like it.

You idiot!

Well, learn my birthday, (bleep)!

Mrs. Griffin! What a nice surprise!

Come in!

Mr. Gutentag, I'm sorry to bother you, but Chris and Peter didn't come home last night.

Have you seen them?

Oh, wait, is he a great big fat person?

He's a large man, yes, sir.

No, I have not seen them.

Well, if you do, could you please contact me?

I'm just worried sick.

Of course, Mrs. Griffin.

I will let you know immediately.

Dad, I want to go home.

All right, let's try and figure a way outta here.

Look around. See if you can find something to break the door down with.

(gasps) Dad, there's a window here!

Oh, my God, maybe we can get outside.

No, it's too small.

Wait, Dad, look.

There's Meg walking down the street.

Hey, Meg!

Hanging out with all your friends?

(both laugh)

Hey, whale, the ocean's that way!

That's a good one, too.

All right, let's figure a way to get outta here.

Now we can't fit through the window, but maybe there's some way we can let people know we're down here.

We gotta make as much noise as possible to get people's attention.

And nothing makes more noise than unwanted salsa music.

Hand me that radio.

(loud salsa music plays)

(loud salsa music continues)

What the hell?

Oh, for God's sake, where's that white noise machine?

(woman screams)

Help!

Oh, my God, help!

Somebody help me!

(sighs)

(music turns to static)

Aw, man, the battery's dead.

Now what do we do?

(gasp) Oh, my God.

Mr. Herbert! Mr. Herbert!

Oh, he can't hear me.

Jesse! Jesse!

(barks weakly)

Jesse, what is it, boy?

(gasps) Chris!

Chris, what happened?!

You were right, Mr. Herbert.

Franz is a n*zi.

And he's keeping us prisoner down here.

Get help.

Oh, and if you see Meg, tell her "Thunder Thighs are on the move!

Thunder Thighs are loose."

You know, I gotta say, Chris, all my life I wanted to see you locked in a basement, but now that it's happened, all I want to do is get you out.

Don't you worry. I'll be back with help.

You want me to write that Thunder Thighs thing down for you?

Ah, he's not gonna do it.

I'm here for the boy.

Who are you?

Oh, you don't remember me?

Well, I remember you, Lieutenant Schlechtnacht.

(gasps)

But then why should you remember?

There were so many of us.

But, frankly, I don't give a damn.

And I'll tell you this: only one of us is gonna walk outta here alive.

Bring it on!

(dramatic action music plays)

(snoring)

Wake up. Wake up. We're fighting.

Where... Where am I?

It's okay. We're fighting. Wake up.

(rapid beeping)

Uh, hang on. Hang on. Pills.

Yeah, me, too.

Wednesday, right?

Yeah, it's Wednesday.

Uh, you know what? You know what?

What?

I'm having some trouble getting up.

Would you mind calling my nurse?

Her name is Frieda.

Her phone number is in the kitchen.

(dramatic action music playing)

(singsongy): Oh, gosh, look who's stuck on the couch again.

I'm not stuck on the couch.

Okay, Mr. Cranky.

One, two... three! There we go!

You didn't need me. You did that yourself.

Good for you.

You need anything else?

No, I'm fine, thank you.

Okay, you guys have fun.

Franz, grab my hand!

(mournful music plays)

(bones cracking)

Say good night, you n*zi bastard.

(birds chirping)

Thanks for everything, Mr. Herbert.

If only I had listened to you, none of this would've happened.

You were my real friend all along.

I'm sorry.

It's okay, Chris.

Sometimes the only way to really appreciate what you have is to see what life is like without it.

And there's nothing I appreciate more than your friendship.

Dad, Mr. Herbert called me "Thunder Thighs."

Oh, you did it. Thank you.