01x14 - Father of the Year

Episode transcripts for the TV show "The Brady Bunch". Aired: September 1969 to March 1974.*
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A woman with three daughters marries a widower with three sons.
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01x14 - Father of the Year

Post by bunniefuu »

♪ Here's the story ♪

♪ Of a lovely lady ♪

♪ Who was bringing up ♪

♪ Three very lovely girls ♪

♪ All of them had hair of gold ♪

♪ Like their mother ♪

♪ The youngest one in curls ♪

♪ It's the story of a
man named Brady ♪

♪ Who was busy with
three boys of his own ♪

♪ They were four
men living all together ♪

♪ Yet they were all alone ♪

♪ Till the one day when ♪

♪ The lady met this fellow ♪

♪ And they knew that it was ♪

♪ Much more than a hunch ♪

♪ That this group must ♪

♪ Somehow form a family ♪

♪ That's the way they all ♪

♪ Became the Brady Bunch ♪

♪ The Brady Bunch,
the Brady Bunch ♪

♪ That's the way they
became the Brady Bunch. ♪

CAROL: Mike!

Mike!

Honey, your notes
for the speech.

Oh! Thanks, honey.

MARCIA: Daddy!

Sweetheart, it's getting late.

But I need help. In the morning.

It'll only take a few minutes.

Honey, I'm due at a meeting.

Marcia, I'll help you.

Mother, it's math.

Early in the morning.

Carol, phone Charlie

and tell him I'll
be a little bit late

for the meeting.

Something important came up.

How's the homework coming?

All done.

Thanks to Daddy.

Good.

What's that for?

For marrying him.

All those important men...

He kept them waiting
just on account of me.

Well, your daddy's
pretty special.

Very special.

I'll throw them out, Mom.

Thanks, darling.

After that, bed.

Jan.

Huh?

Wake up.

Cindy, what's wrong?

Where's Marcia?

In bed... where you should be.

No, she isn't. Look!

Well... where could she be?

I don't know.

Maybe we'd better
go look for her.

Okay.

What are you two doing up?

We wanted a drink of water.

Well, isn't the upstairs
faucet working?

Sure.

But the kitchen
water tastes groovier.

It's wetter.

You lose something?

No.

I just wanted to
see if anybody was...

you know, still up.

Like who?

Beats me.

Come on, Cindy.

Hey, you forgot your water.

I'm not thirsty anymore.

Me neither.

"My dad should be
Father Of The Year

for dozens of reasons."

She's not in the family room.

We better tell Mommy.

Hey, look.

There's a light on in Dad's den.

Marcia wouldn't go in there.

Maybe she did.

Hundreds.

That's better.

We're not supposed
to play in here.

Boy, you're really
going to get it.

What you writing?

It's private.

That's why I came in here.

Aw, come on. What is it?

I bet it's a love letter.

Yeah. To that creep Felix Brown.

Come on, let me see it.

Hi.

Oh, hi, honey.

How'd your speech go?

Oh, I was merely brilliant.

Well, we all have
our off nights.

That's right, Mr. Brady.

Better luck next time.

As a matter of fact, I was asked

to give the same
speech to the CIA.

The CIA?

It's not what you think.

It's the Creative
Institute of Architects.

I hope you saved your notes.

Yeah. They're right here.

And, right now, I'm
going to put them away

for safekeeping.

( squealing)

( door slams)

What are you girls
doing out of bed?

Jan and me were in bed.

Jan and I.

We just came
down to find Marcia.

Marcia, what are
you doing in my den?

Writing a love letter.

A love letter?

Well, sort of.

To a creep.

It is not.

Jan, you and Cindy go to bed.

Now, I'll handle this.

Skedaddle. Hurry up.

( giggling)

Marcia, did you have
your mother's permission

to be up this late?

No, sir.

Did you have permission
to be in my den?

It was the only place I
could find that was private.

I'm sorry if I made you angry.

Hey.

Remember our slogan around here?

"A wise man
forgets his anger..."

"Before he lies down to sleep."

You give me a good night kiss.

And we'll talk about
it in the morning.

Okay?

Okay.

Oh!

( chuckles)

A wise man forgets his anger
before he lies down to sleep.

( grumbling)

( knocking)

Come in.

Daddy?

Yes, Marcia?

Mother told me

about your blueprints
and your speech.

If you hadn't been in my den,
that never would have happened.

I know. And I'm
ready to be punished.

I ruined your work.

Well, that part was an
accident, sweetheart.

But the accident was my fault.

If I had put the top
back on the bottle,

you wouldn't have
ruined all your work.

Daddy... I'm really sorry.

Oh, come on now, princess.

There's another set of
blueprints down at my office.

Are you sure?
Sure. I'm positive.

And I'll bet I can write

a better set of notes
for my speech, too.

Now, come on.

Give me a big smile.

( chuckling)

That's better.

Come in, because
court's in session.

Prisoner ready to plead?

Yes, sir, Your Honor.

( sighs)

Marcia Brady, you are charged

with violating
bedtime regulations,

trespassing in my den,

and indirectly
fouling up my papers.

Guilty or not guilty?

Guilty.

The court hereby sentences you

to one day at hard labor.

Well, maybe not so hard.

I'll leave a list

with Alice of extra
chores for you to do.

Thanks, Judge.
You're outta sight.

Yeah, and you're
late for school.

MIKE: Hi.

Oh, hi, honey.

How was your day?

Oh, okay, I guess.

Where's Marcia?

Oh, doing all those
chores, I imagine.

Well, I know one she didn't do.

Sweep all the leaves
off the front porch.

Oh, hi, Daddy. Hi.

Jan, I told Marcia

to empty the wastebaskets.

Marcia who?

Hi, Dad.

Hi.

Hey, has anybody seen Marcia?

Not recently. Why?

Well, she was supposed to
feed the dog two hours ago.

How do you know she didn't?

Well, mainly because he
was chewing one of my shoes.

"And Dad doesn't even
play golf every weekend

so he can spend more
time with his family."

( knocking)

Come in.

Marcia.

Hi, Dad.

Marcia, did you finish
those chores I gave you?

No, sir. Not yet.

I thought I made
myself very clear.

I was working on
something else first.

Homework?

No, sir. Not homework.

Well, what then?

I'd rather not say.

Oh?

It's personal, Daddy.

Marcia, those chores
were your punishment.

Unless you can explain
why you ignored them,

I'm afraid I'm going to
have to be more severe.

But I can't explain. Not now.

Very well, then.

I'm grounding you for one week.

No playground,
no friend's house.

When you come home
from school, you're to

come straight to your room.

But Dad... And no
arguments about it.

"Even when he punishes
me, it's because I deserve it.

Yours sincerely, Marcia Brady."

Deadline for
entries is... Oh, no!

Boys. Is there anything
boys can't wear out?

Snow.

Snow wears out.

They call it slush.

Huh?

No, honey, I was just reading

about snow up in the mountains.

Let's go skiing this weekend.

Hey, that's a great idea.

The kids will love it.

Oops. I forgot.
Marcia's been grounded.

( groans)

Oh, Mike.

Mike, Marcia would
rather ski than eat.

Well, I could suspend her
sentence for the weekend.

What do you think?

I think you're an old softy.

Oh, no, no, I'm a young softy.

( chuckling)

Mm-hmm.

Mike.

Jan.

Jan? Hmm?

Jan, where's Marcia?

I don't know.

Here I am, Mommy.

Marcia, what on Earth?

Where were you?

Mailing a letter.

At this hour?

Down the trellis?

You could have broken your neck!

I had to mail the letter.

CAROL: Why?

I can't say.

Marcia, I've given you

every chance possible.

Now you've left me
with no alternative.

We're all going
skiing this weekend.

All except you.

Your father's right.

You'll just have to stay
with your grandparents.

Now, come on, get into bed.

Hurry up.

Good night, sweetheart.

Good night.

And no more going
out the window.

Gentlemen, as judges

of this year's "Father
Of The Year" contest,

we face a very
difficult decision.

We have never
had so many entries,

and we have never read
such marvelous essays.

Yet, somehow, we must
make a decision by tomorrow.

We have narrowed it
down to those three.

Right. But there can
be only one winner.

We'll simply have to read these,

and reread them,

until we can arrive
at a final selection.

Then one of these young people
will soon be a very happy boy...

Or girl, as the case may be...

David Wood, Arnold
Collins, Marcia Brady.

What's the hay for?

It's instead of snow.

We made it for
Alice to practice on.

She's never been on skis before.

We're ready!

ALICE: You're ready?

( nervous chuckle)

Okay, uh... all right...

Oh... well, that's not bad.

Where are those, um...?

Poles.

Poles, poles, poles, poles.

( nervous laugh)

That a girl. Thanks.

Ah. Now just, um...

Up there.

Okay.

All right, uh...

Well, maybe if
you walk sideways.

Ah! All right.

Uh... ( screaming)

Oh, put the straps
around your wrists.

Yes, I... all right...

How am I going to get up there?

We can use the boxes!

Oh, all right. I can
just climb. Okay.

Am I clear back...?

Yeah.

Back?

Go right back.

Oh, boy. That's going to be
higher than I thought it was.

You got to give me a little
push or something there.

All right... What's next?

Crouch.

Crouch.

More knee bend. More knee bend.

Lean forward.

Poles ready. Head up.

Go! Go!


( cheering and screaming)

She'll need two more lessons.

Maybe three.

You all right, Alice?

I hate to be the ugly American,

but I do have a
protest to register:

Your snow's got splinters in it.

( crying)

Ooh. Help me up, fellas.

( screaming)

Okay.

Why don't you join us, Alice?

Yeah. Come on. Sit down.

My upper half wants to,

but my bottom half disagrees.

Thanks, anyway.

What's wrong?

The children gave Alice

her first skiing lesson today.

Oh, yeah? You flunked?

Well, I prefer to think of it

as having proved
a scientific theory.

Everything that goes up
sure as heck comes down.

Seeing Alice on skis

is going to be
worth the entire trip.

Yeah. I'd rather
see Marcia on skis.

Now, darling,
we've been over that

several times now.

Rules are rules.

Maybe we ought to
bend them just this once.

I want Marcia to go
just as badly as you do,

but she broke the rules.

And it wouldn't be fair
to the other children

who didn't break the rules.

Yeah. I guess you're right.

Now, remember, Cindy,

let's try to cheer up Marcia.

And, whatever you do,

don't mention the ski trip.

Hi, Marcia.

( glumly): Hi.

We came to cheer you up.

Uh... you want to
play some checkers?

No, thanks.

Uh... it's real
nice weather out.

I suppose.

Too bad you're not going skiing.

You know who's
got the biggest mouth

in the whole wide
world next to you?

Who?

Nobody.

Jan, where's Cindy?

Outside in the backyard.

Good.

Look, Marcia. I'm taking

my camera along on the ski trip

so you get to see
everything that happens

even if you can't go.

I'm sorry I'm not going.

But, if you knew the
reason, it's worth it.

Golly, you must
have some reason.

I've got a real big secret.

But, if I don't tell
someone soon,

I'm simply going to bust!

You mean, you
want
to tell someone?

I don't want to. I have to.

How about me?

I wish I could,

but can you keep
a real secret...

An honest-to-goodness,
never-tell-a-living-soul secret?

You know me, Marcia.

That's what worries me.

Please. I can keep a secret.

Do you swear? I swear.

Do you double swear?

I double swear.

I triple swear.

I... I... fourple swear!

That's quadruple swear.

Okay, I quadruple swear.

Well, you see...

No. I don't think
I can trust you.

After I sweared and everything?

All right. I'll trust you.

The real reason I
was writing that letter,

and the reason I sneaked out

to mail it that night... Yeah?

Hey, what's going on?

Marcia's telling me a secret.

Will you get out of here?

I want to hear it, too.

Uh-uh. No way.

I can keep a secret
good as anybody.

Oh, no, you can't.

Remember when I
borrowed mother's perfume?

You told her!

She was going to ask me anyway.

Marcia, I'm dying. I'm dying.

I got to know that secret!

Well, you girls guessed
it about Felix Brown.

I was writing the letter,

and I had to mail it by midnight

or he wouldn't get it in time.

In time for what?

In time to invite me
to the class dance.

Have you girls seen Peter?

We haven't seen him.

I sure hope he
didn't hear the secret.

Did you hear the secret, Greg?

What secret?

About Felix Brown.

Go ahead.

Tell him all about Felix Brown.

See if I care.

Mrs. Michael Brady?

Yes?

Lance Pierce.

I phoned you earlier.

Oh, yes. You're from
the local TV station.

KTRY. May I bring
my crew in now?

Yes. Oh, I'm just dying to know

what the award for Mr. Brady is.

Is it the Creative
Institute of Architects?

I'm sorry. We can't say.

We want that moment of surprise
from the whole family on film.

Okay, boys.

Well, I'll get the
children ready.

Mr. Brady should be
home in a half hour or so.

Set it up right over here.

Just over there.

Which side do you
think is my best side?

I don't think it
makes any difference.

GREG: He's driving in!

He's driving in!

PIERCE: Everybody
take your places!

Like I told you.

Oh, the award. Where's the...?

Oh, thank goodness.

Mr. Samuels, I'll cue you.

Ready? Pick him up at the door,

and pan him right over here.

Everybody ready?

Beautiful.

What the devil's going on here?

Mike, you came in a back door!

Why me?

Why do these things
always happen to me?!

What is this?

Well... it's a surprise, dear.

Quick, swing
everything over there!

CAROL: Come on, come over here.

All right.

Come on.

Okay, Mr. Samuels.

Mr. Brady, I am
Hamilton Samuels,

publisher of the
Daily Chronicle,


and it is my
pleasure to announce

that you have been
chosen "Father of the Year."

Father Of The Year?

SAMUELS: We received
thousands of entries,

and the judges
decided that the best

came from your daughter Marcia.

Marcia?

Was that what you were...?

That letter you had to mail...
Was that all part of this?

Perhaps you'd like to see

the letter she wrote.

We've been
conducting this contest

for many years,

and we have never
read a tribute like that.

"Even though he
has only been my dad

"for a short time,

"no father could
be a realer father

than Michael Brady."

Oh, isn't this a
marvelous picture?

Yeah. Not bad. Not bad.

Oh, Mike, I'm so proud of you.

And I'm so proud of Marcia, too.

Well, you should be.
She's your daughter.

She's whose daughter?

( chuckles)

Our daughter.
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