02x37 - The Indestructible Mr. Weems

[bunniefuu]

Good evening.

Since you're allowed
to make yourself comfortable
during our show,

I thought it only right
that I be allowed to relax.

After all,
the rules of television

seem weighed far too much
in favor of the viewer.

You can relax in your home,

while I must stay here
in this drafty studio.

I'm not feeling a bit well.

But the show must go on,
whether you like it or not.

And tonight's show is called
"The Indestructible
Mr. Weems."

Have any luck?
Hmm?

Oh, not bad, sh*t a
on the front nine,
then a birdie three on...

No, I mean...

Not a nibble.
You can't give them away.

You'd think
we were stealing their money
instead of doing them a favor.

We, Knights
of the Golden Lodge,

pledge ourselves
in brotherhood,

unstintingly,
to help our fellow members

and those less fortunate
than ourselves.

The board meeting
of the Knights
of the Golden Lodge

is now in session.

It distresses me
to inform you

that after months
of hard work
by our sales committee,

we have yet
to sell our first plot.

Well, maybe
if we didn't
call it a cemetery,

maybe if we called it
something else,

like a resting place
or something.

Point well taken,
Brother Brodsky.

You will notice the tract
is now officially referred to
as Elysium Park.

Elysium is taken
from the Greek,
meaning "Paradise."

Quite appropriate, I think.

I remember
when it was
a golf course.

sh*t an
there once.

The eighth green
was a lulu.

Brother Elkins,
I'm sure your golf score
is of great interest.

But at the moment,
we have more serious things
to consider.

I merely want to
impress you with the fact
that our members

seem to be ignoring
our unselfish efforts
on their behalf.

Meanwhile, taxes
and cost of upkeep
continue to climb,

while the project
remains a park,

instead of
a final resting place

where our dear brothers
may lie down

at the end
of a weary journey.

Well, take it from me.

No one wants to be
the first to lie down.

I beg your pardon?

Believe me,

no one's signing up
until we've got a customer
in the ground.

I believe Brother Brown
has hit the nail on the head,
gentlemen.

Yeah, he struck
a nerve, all right.

When things are slow
in used cars,
I run a contest.

Now, suppose
we give a plot away

as a door prize
at the next Lodge dance?

There's a certain dignity
in preparing for one's
final confinement.

I find your suggestion
highly revolting.

Sorry, I was just
thinking out loud.

Any of you remember
Clarence Weems?

Weems? Weems. Yeah.

I sold him a sedan
six years ago.

He wears an upper plate.
I made it.

Brother Weems. Yes.

Yes, a man
in his declining years.

An auctioneer by trade,
but a credit to the Lodge
and to the community.

Yes, now that I recall,

he ceased being
an active member
over a year ago.

That's when he lost his wife.

Then his business went sour
and he got sick.

He's kind of given up.

In fact,
he isn't expected
to live out the year.

Well, that's too bad.

But what has this to do
with our immediate problem?

Suppose we make him
a proposition?

Say we give him $ a week,
support him until the end.

In return, say he agrees
to be our first customer.

Now, that wouldn't be charity.

We'd be giving him something,
he'd be giving us something.

That's the answer!

Are you suggesting that
we subsidize Brother Weems

if he agrees
to be interred
in our park?

Sure.

Are you positive

he's teetering
on the edge
of immortality?

Well, he's been
in a sickbed
for over a year.

He's practically got
one foot in the grave.

Oh, I see.

Well, what have
we got to lose?

$ a week.

Yes, but think
of the taxes
and the upkeep.

I say let's
give it a try!
Me, too.

All right,
gentlemen.

An emergency calls
for extraordinary measures.

Suppose we look in
on Brother Weems.
Agreed?

Agreed!

A walk-up apartment?

Well, if he was a rich man,
we wouldn't be here.

What floor, Harry?

Four.

Please, Daddy,
try and rest.

Yes, dear, I will.

Hello.

Hello.

We're from the Lodge.

The Lodge?

Yes. Knights of
the Golden Lodge.

I wonder if we might
see Mr. Weems.

Oh, hi, Harry.
I didn't see you.
Come in, please.

Laura, this is Mr. Stone,
Dr. Elkins
and Mr. Brodsky.

How do you do?
How do you do?

Harry, you're coming by later
to take me to the movie,
aren't you, darling?

I mean, I asked Mrs. Collins
from down the hall
to come and sit with Daddy.

Of course,
it was a promise.

Oh, good.

I'll tell my daddy
that you're here.

I didn't know
you were so friendly
with Miss Weems.

Oh, we've known each other
for a long time.

Are you engaged?

Well, in a manner
of speaking.

We were supposed
to be married
last December,

but the wedding's
had to be postponed.

Brother Brown,
exactly what caused
the postponement?

We're not in the Lodge now.
Call me Harry.

We're on Lodge business,
though.

I repeat,
why is the wedding
being postponed?

You can come in now.

Oh, this way, gentlemen.
This way.

You remember
these gentlemen,
Mr. Weems.

Lodge members.

I didn't know
you were all on the
convalescent committee.

Well, we're not exactly...

That must be
Mrs. Collins now.

I just want to tell her
when to give you
your medicine.

Excuse me.

She's a good girl.
Can't do enough for me.

Well, maybe I won't
be a burden to her
much longer.

So you've come
to cheer a sick man up,
have you?

Well, you've come
to the wrong place.

I can't stand do-gooders,
sympathy or long faces.

All I ask is that you have
a good time at the wake.

Brother Weems,
you sound like
a practical man.

That's why I don't think
you'll take offense
at what we have to say.

Ah, got something
up your sleeve,
have you?

No, just an honest
business proposition.

I lost my business,
lost everything.

You see, the Lodge
is willing to give you
$ a week, until...

Well, until the end comes.

I don't need charity.
Laura works in the library.
We get along.

That's not charity, Mr. Weems.
You'd be earning it.

That's right. You see,
the Lodge recently
purchased a tract of land

and converted it
into a final resting place
for the members.

We call it Elysium Park.

That's just a fancy name
for a graveyard.

It's attractively landscaped
and ideally located.

Your real estate office
handle the deal?

What?

Well, yes,
we did select the land.

The point is,
if you'll agree
to be interred there,

the Lodge will
continue paying you
until the time comes.

Having trouble
selling the plots, huh?

They're not exactly
busting down the doors.

My grandmother believed
in the wee people
and the leprechauns,

but I can't afford
to be superstitious.

I'm overdue now.

They used to say
in the old days,

"Going, going, gone."

Then you'll accept our offer?

It has the sound
of an honorable
arrangement.

Good.

We took the liberty
of having some
papers drawn up.

Afraid I wouldn't
live out the day, huh?

My glasses.

Oh, here, let me help.

Thank you.

I think you'll find it
all there.

Your obligation to us,
our obligation to you.

The starting and the end.

This clause A here,
"Party of the first part,"

that's you.
Mmm-hmm.

"...agrees to pay
party of the second part,"
that's me,

"the agreed upon
sum of money."

It doesn't say anything
about how much
I'm supposed to get.

Oh? That is an oversight.

Better write it in
and initial it.

So long
as it's on paper,

we might as well spell it out
so everyone can understand.

Oh, absolutely.

Now, if you'll
just sign here.

Done.

Thank you.

Yeah. This will be
a blessing to Laura.

Now that she knows
I'll be taken care of,

she can give up her job
and get married.

I think we'd better
be getting back.

Goodbye, Mr. Weems.

I could stay
until Laura gets back.

No.

Goodbye, Mr. Weems.

Take good care
of yourself.

Goodbye.

We might look in on you
now and then,
if you don't mind.

Don't bother.
Just read
the obituary columns.

Your copy.
I've already signed.

Goodbye,
Brother Weems.

Goodbye.

Very convenient.
Now you can go ahead
and marry that girl.

It just worked out
that way.

What difference
does it make?

From what I've seen,
it looks like
a good investment.

A week, maybe a month.

Then we can unload
every plot in the park.

Mr. Weems.

Come in, Mrs. Collins.

I thought you might like
some chicken broth.

Thanks. But I don't feel
like chicken broth.

I feel like something
more substantial.

Maybe roast beef
or even a steak.

But Dr. Allen said...

Oh, bother Dr. Allen.

You know, Sarah, you're
a handsome-looking woman.

Why, Mr. Weems,
what's come over you?

You never noticed me
that way before.

It's time I did.

And, Sarah, one thing more.

Yes, Mr. Weems?

Call me Clarence.

Yes, Mr. Weems.

I mean, Clarence.

I hear you're getting
married next month.

Looks that way.

Do you know anything
about this?

It looks like an application
for active membership
in the Lodge.

It's from Clarence Weems.

He also sent
six months' dues.

Maybe he feels obligated.

When he goes,
he wants to go out
as an active member.

Well, I see no signs
of his going.

For an invalid who's supposed
to have one foot in the grave,

he seems to be possessed
of remarkable stamina.

It's only been
three weeks.

Yes, and I've trudged
up those four flights
every week,

and each time
he looks just
the same.

I saw him.

Plain as day,
I saw him.

Saw who?

Clarence Weems.

I was on the ninth hole
in the public park.

He was taking a walk,
and he wasn't alone.

He was with a woman.

Well, maybe it was someone
who looked like him.

No. It was him.
He even waved at me.

Well, there's one way
to find out
just what's going on.

He looked
very healthy.

Coming,
gentlemen?

Oh, yes!
Yes.

Oh, hello, Mr. Stone.

Is your father home?

Oh, he's taking a nap now.
The doctor doesn't
want him disturbed.

Has he...
Has he been out
of the house today?

I'm sorry,
I just got in.

Why don't you
come by tomorrow
and ask him yourself?

And, Harry, don't forget
we have an appointment with
Reverend Newton tomorrow.

I'll tell my daddy
you dropped by
to see him.

Bye.

Why, you're practically
one of the family,

and that's the sort
of treatment we get.

Please,
the man's resting.

I tell you,
it was him I saw.

So? A man has a right
to walk in the sunshine.
It may be his only chance.

Not when
it's costing us
$ a week.

To say nothing
of the taxes and upkeep
on the property.

Maybe he's just
holding out
long enough,

just to see
his daughter
married.

It's only human.

All right.
That's one month
from now.

In the meantime,
I suggest we keep
an eye on Mr. Weems.

Enjoy yourselves.

Oh, good evening,
Brother Evans.

Nice to see you,
Mrs. Evans.

Looks like
it's a big night
for the Lodge.

Yes. Go right in.

It's a source
of great satisfaction

to see our fellow members
turning out.

Good evening, gentlemen.
I want you to meet
Mrs. Collins.

Her late husband
used to be a member.

I told her about you.

She thinks
it's real nice of you

to take such
an interest in me.

That'll be two tickets,
thank you.

I'm sorry I was resting
the last two times
you dropped by.

But you just
keep coming.

You never know
when you'll catch me up.

I haven't been
to a Lodge dance
in over two years.

Get Brown and Elkins
right away.

I'm calling an emergency
board meeting.

Yeah. Yeah.

They're coming.

I just saw him.

I tell you,
I just saw Clarence Weems
big as life.

And he had
that same woman
with him.

Your powers
of observation
are remarkable.

Gentlemen, a fraud
has been perpetrated
on this Lodge,

a bare-faced fraud.
And he did it.

I didn't know
he was coming here.

I'm not talking
about just that.

It's all clear now.
Everything.

You talked us
into this scheme

just so you could marry
that daughter of his.

Now Weems is
self-supporting.

Now he's no longer
a burden to her.

Why, the Lodge
is practically
financing the wedding.

And the honeymoon.

I won't listen
to such lies,

not from somebody
who practically stole
money from the Lodge.

What?
Yes!

Your real estate firm
got the commission

for selling the cemetery
to the Lodge.

I heard you admit it
to Mr. Weems.

That was merely
a coincidence!

Please, please, we're
all Lodge brothers here.

Now, nobody's
accusing anybody
of anything.

He did! He said
I made it all up!

I can prove what I said
about Mr. Weems
being a very sick man.

Well then, somebody
better tell Mr. Weems.

Why, he's already
entered himself
in the cha-cha contest.

If you want
an affidavit,
ask the doctor.

That where you
got it from?

He as much as said
Mr. Weems wouldn't be
with us much longer.

Well, we're wasting time.
Why don't we talk to him?

That's one way to find out
who's telling the truth.

All right,
all right.

We'll all go see his doctor.
Is everyone agreed?

Agreed.

Fine. All right,
take it easy, Cato.

Now, sit down, sit down.
Sit down.

Cool off.

Would anyone
like some coffee?

No, thank you.

Sugar, cream?

You told the doctor
to expect us?

Yes.

Oh, I'll tell the doctor
that you're waiting.

Well, it's nice
to know that Clarence
has so many friends

who worry about him.

Yes.

We'd like to know
just how he's coming along.

I can understand
your concern.

Clarence told me
about your generous
financial arrangement.

Sort of an insurance
policy in reverse,

with the death benefits
going to the company.

I admit it sounds crazy,

but it seemed like
a good idea at the time.

At the time,
perhaps it was.

They think
I made it all up.

I believe I can tell you
what you want to know,

without violating
my patient's confidence.

If you could just tell us
what his chances are.

There's more
to it than that.

It takes something
out of a man

when he loses his wife
and then his business.

Clarence let himself
get run down,

he seemed
to be wasting away.

He gave up completely,

and he waited
for the inevitable.

Yes, Clarence
was a very sick man.

But what was this miracle
that changed all of this?

The miracle
was you, gentlemen.

You gave Clarence
something that medical science
could not provide.

You gave him a reason
and a will to live.

A lifetime annuity
is a challenge to any man.

Congratulations, gentlemen.
You've brought a dying man
back from the grave.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I'll get back to the hospital.

Well, there's nothing more
we can do here.

Oh, are you gentlemen
leaving?

Don't you want
to see my father?

No, thank you.

Coming?

I think I'll just stay
and finish my coffee.

He might outlive us all.

Maybe we could
sell the land
for a housing tract,

or a golf course.

Not while Clarence Weems
is an active member
of this Lodge!

He swore a solemn oath
to uphold the best interests
of the Lodge.

Well, he's not doing it.

He's depriving
his fellow members

of the ultimate benefits
of Elysium Park.

We'll appeal to him
in the sacred name
of the Lodge.

If he has one spark
of decency left,
he's got to listen to us.

Asking a man to die
as a duty to his Lodge,

that's asking a lot.

My intention is not
quite that drastic.

We'll ask him
to tear up the contract
for the sum of, say, $ .

Agreed?

Agreed.
Agreed.

Agreed.

He's got to listen
to reason!

We'll blackball him
from the Lodge
if he refuses.

Careful, Clarence,
you might strain yourself.

I used to lift pianos.

I'll have it
in your apartment
in a jiffy.

Look!
He's as strong
as an ox!

Stone!

Hey.

Well, he's as white
as a ghost!

Hey, here comes Doc Allen.
Hurry up, Doc.
Come on up. Quick.

Come on, Doc.

He just looked up
and passed out.

I'm afraid he's gone.
It's his heart.

He shouldn't have been
climbing these stairs
week after week.

The poor, dear man.

So young to die.

It was a sweet thought,
your giving that
poor, dear man

the very plot
they gave to you.

It was the least
I could do.

He tried dreadful hard
to make a success
of this place.

Relatives and good friends
of Cato Stone...

There.

I think that proves
that we can be
as sunshiny as anyone.

Clarence and the widow Collins
lived happily ever after.

And in desperation,
the trustees finally
converted their park

into a track
for dog racing.

It proved more popular
than a cemetery,
and rather profitable, too.

One of the consolations
of being ill

is the gifts one receives.

One of my dear friends
sent me this. Solid oak.

Silver handles, too.

Apparently,
the donor wishes
to remain anonymous.

The card is unsigned.

Very nice.

But I better not
overtax myself.

Until our next visiting hours,
then.