06x15 - The Big Nap

Episode transcripts for the TV show "Mama's Family". Aired: January 22, 1983 – February 24, 1990.*
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Spin-off series revolves around the wacky misadventures of the Harper family, extended non-Harper family members and their neighbor friend in later seasons.
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06x15 - The Big Nap

Post by bunniefuu »

Now, where the heck
did they put the "H"?

Try the middle, Aunt Naomi.

Boy, will I be glad

when these employee
evaluations are finished.

Oh, well, you could
carve 'em in stone

faster than you're typin' 'em.

Grandma, what's for dinner?

Well, here's mine.

And just what are
we supposed to eat?

Hey, I told you all, during
Private-Eye Film Festival Week

it is every grandson
and bimbo for himself.

- Not another triple feature.
- Yeah.

Tonight they're showing
"Danger, My Lovely",

"m*rder, My Pretty",
and "Kiss me, Vicious."

I thought those
were on last night.

No. Hell, no. Last night
they showed "Kiss Of Danger"

"m*rder, My Vicious",
and "k*ll Me, My Lovely."

Help!

Well, Good Lord.

Ah, that bathroom lock
must be jammed again.

Somebody let me out.

Alright, honey, sit tight.

We're gonna get
you out of there.

Let me out. I'm running
out of things to read.

Don't pull on the
knob, Uncle Vint.

That just makes it worse.

Have you got enough
air in there, sweetheart?

Oh, well, for crying out loud.

Back off, you g*ons.

Don't you even know
how to open a door?

Sweetheart, are you alright?

- Yeah, it was just my head.
- Alright, well that does it.

Nobody uses that bathroom
during my movie marathon.

I do not wanna be disturbed.

We can't do anything in
this house, not even eat.

Yeah, and I'm getting
sick of going out

to fast-food places every night.

Well, don't you worry, honey.

I will cook.

Maybe we should give the
burger shack one more chance.

Good idea, Uncle Vint.

Well, that's fine with
me. I love their salad bar.

Yeah. Let's go.

Have fun, you three.

I thought they'd never leave.

Knock, knock.

Thelma, housecleaning
at this hour?

Yeah, I don't have
a minute to chitchat.

Well, I'm here on business.

As editor of the
"Gourmet Gazette"

I came to check on the
progress of our mailing.

What? You think I would let
the daughters of Raytown down?

sh**t, last night I stuffed more
envelopes than Ed McMahon.

Wait a minute.

Thelma, you've only got
three envelopes stuffed.

Gee, I could've
sworn it was five.

It's those tawdry
detective films, isn't it?

You've become
obsessed with them.

Well, you're a fine one to talk.

You had your phone unplugged

all during Arnold
Schwarzenegger Week.

Only for "Conan The Barbarian."
I've never seen it uncut.

Iola, don't worry about it.

Your recipe rag will
be on its way tomorrow.

Well, I certainly hope so.

Eighty-five daughters of
Raytown are waiting anxiously

by their mailbox for
my lima bean loaf.

Now, remember,
stuff, stuff, stuff.

I'd like to tell her where
to stuff, stuff, stuff.

Calling me obsessed.

I cracked my window.

There wasn't a breath of air.

It was like every poor sap
in the city had let out a sigh

for his lost, rootless life.

Yeah, it was a
day like any other

except for one thing...

m*rder.

Hello, "Danger, My Lovely."
Goodbye, lima bean loaf.

- Grandma!
- Oh, boy!

Can't let up on that
dirt for a minute.

Come off it, grandma. You
can barely keep your eyes open

after watching all those
dumb movies last night.

Knock, knock.

Oh, my Lord. Iola's newsletters.

Good morning, you two.

Hi, Iola. What's happening?

I was hoping to borrow Bubba.

With daddy out of town,
I need help with mother.

Oh, sure. No
problem, Ms. Boylen.

She get stuck in the
beanbag chair again?

She insists on going
to the bank today.

She wants to enter that "Win
Your Weight in Pennies" contest.

Oh, when they see her waddle
in, there'll be a run on the bank.

Come on, Bubba, mother wants
to stop at Pete's Pasta-Rama

and carbo-load for her weigh-in.

I swear, those
Boylens are certifiable.

Now, where in the hell
did I put those envelopes?

Oh, of course. In the oven.

Ha ha ha.

All done, Skeeter.

We got ourselves a
brand-new bathroom lock.

- You wanna do the honors?
- Oh, honey, I can't.

I've got to finish my reports.

Hey, mama. Come on
over to the bathroom.

I want you to help me out.

I thought I potty-trained
you years ago.

No. I wanna try
out the new lock.

- Ha ha.
- Nice going, Vinton.

Why don't you just
have your wife type up

an "Ocupado" sign
and be done with it?

Well, somebody's certainly
cranky this morning.

That's because somebody
stayed up all night

watching her private-eye flicks.

Well, excuse somebody for
trying to put a little excitement

into her humdrum life.

Now, let's face it, nothing
mysterious ever happens

around here.

Knock, knock.

- Iola, what's the matter?
- It's mother. She's missing.

Oh. Any luck?

No. We asked
everybody on the block.

And nobody seen Mrs. Boylen.

Yeah, we searched her
house from top to bottom.

There's not a trace of her.

Not even a candy wrapper.

Oh, now, we're here, sweetie.

Oh, what did the police say
when you called 'em, mama?

Well, I started to describe
her but when I got to the mole

on her third chin
they hung up on me.

They thought it
was a crank call.

Oh, no.

Oh, now, take it easy, Iola.

I finally got 'em
to listen to me.

They said they will call
us if they hear anything.

Well, let's not wait for that.

I say we form our
own search party.

What a great idea.

Now, Mrs. Harper, you
stay here by the phone

in case the police call.

Well, What are we
waiting for? Let's move it.

Oh, wait up, Ms. Boylen.
You better let me drive.

Come on, Skeeter, time to roll.

Alright, well, take the pickup.

That way, if you find her

you can haul her
home in the truck bed.

sh**t, I hate waiting
for the phone to ring.

I ought to be the one
out there looking for her.

This case reminds me
of "Lost, My Luscious."

What was the name of
the detective in that one?

The name's Harper.

T. Harper.

I worked out of my house.

I liked it that way.

Business was slow
and I was in a funk.

Things got so bad, I
took up hitting the sauce.

Just my luck.

It needed oregano and I was out.

This was a job
for my gal Friday.

Her name was Tuesday.

She started on Monday,
and by Wednesday

she'd ask for Thursday off.

Morning, boss.

Oh, could I take a break?
My fingers are k*lling me.

Not till you've
finished your filing.

Gee, thanks.

By the way, blondie,
we're out of oregano.

Johnny Deadbolt.

You pack a real
mean wallop, Harper.

Sorry about the knock
on the noggin, Johnny.

- Why the visit?
- Well...

You hired me to
beef up your security.

I was just
rechecking your locks.

You can't be too careful
in this racket. Heh heh heh.

Ow!

Oh, are you alright, Johnny?

I mean, Mr. Deadbolt.

Uh, don't worry, toots.

It takes more than
unbearable pain

to keep a lug
like me off the job.

You're an "Okay Joe", Johnny.

I didn't buy his story.

It smelled fishier than
yesterday's tuna melt.

He showed up
every day this week.

Maybe Johnny had more
on his mind than locks.

Maybe he was
sweet on the blonde.

Nah.

Figures.

A sink full of Fiesta Ware

and not a drop of Lemon
Joy in the whole dump.

Was I ever gonna cop a break?

Was my phone ever gonna ring?

Was that damn saxophone
ever gonna stop playing?

Thanks.

Oh, boss, there's
someone here to see you.

A Miss Neighborly.

A skirt, huh?

- Uh-huh.
- What does she want?

Oh, I don't know.

Um, she could be,
like, one of those people

that used to come around
and ask you to work for them

and pay you a little something?

A client.

A client. That's it.

Isn't it time to
change your gum?

I'll handle this.

Miss Neighborly.

She was a classy dame with
gams that went on forever.

I wish they hadn't,
but they did.

Her old lady was
Mother Neighborly.

The cookbook queen.

Daughter Neighborly
smelled of money.

Not to mention the garlic
she'd eaten for lunch.

I need your help, Harper.

Step into my office.

Not so fast, Kid Lucky.

What's your beef, Harper?

I got a problem with
small time hoods

pretending to be a chauffeur.

I've gone straight, Harper.

Oh, yeah?

And I shop in
the junior section.

I'm a chauffeur, I tell you.

Get outta here!

Same old Lucky.

Same old Harper.

Nah.

I hope you don't mind.

I noticed the
sauce on the stove.

I thought I'd whip up
an eggplant parmigiana

while I waited.

What, no appetizers?

I always cook when I'm upset.

Oh, Harper, it's awful.

It's simply awful.

I've had worse. It
just needs oregano.

You don't understand.
It's my mother.

She is missing.

Tough break if
you like the broad.

You've got to help me.

I'm prepared to pay.

Coupons.

More coupons than I'd
ever seen in my whole life.

Thirty-cents off cornflakes.

Fifty cents off ground chuck.

Why, there was even a
two-for-one on oregano?

I said the only thing I could.

Miss Neighborly...

you just bought
yourself a gumshoe.

Oh!

I got right on the case.

I told the Neighborly
dame I'd find her mother.

But the doll must've
still been upset

because she started
making a chicken gumbo.

So, Johnny.

Any sign of forced entry over
at the Neighborly mansion?

No.

That place is tighter than
a sailor on shore leave.

So, blondie, why
did you tag along?

Me? Oh, well, Johnny...

I mean, Mr. Deadbolt

asked me to come
along and be his lookout.

Uh! I mean, assistant. Ooh.

Call it a hunch,
but I got the feeling

they weren't on the up and up.

Either Johnny
was expecting twins

or trying to pull a fast one.

I thought maybe I'd better
see what he had up his sleeve

not to mention his topcoat.

Okay, doll, hand me a bobby pin.

But, Johnny, this is no
time to be fixing your hair.

Hair? No, cupcake,
it's for the lock.

So, Johnny, what's that?

A prize from the Penny Arcade?

Oh, uh, didn't I tell you?

I-I happened to
stumble across this

in the drawing room
of the Neighborly joint.

Yeah, and all he had to do
was rip up the floorboards.

Careless of her to leave
it lying around like that.

Well, what are you waiting for?

Jimmy it, Johnny.

Hold it.

Kid Lucky. Just like you to
show up without an appointment.

If I don't get that box

you're all gonna need an
appointment with the undertaker.

Oh, yeah? You talk pretty
tough on the other side of that rod.

I swear, one more
step and I'll sh**t.

Forget it, Lucky.
You ain't got the guts.

Lucky, it looks like
your luck just ran out.

So has yours, Harper.

Miss Neighborly!

Drop the box, Mr. Deadbolt.

Oh-oh!

Is this your way of telling me

you no longer
require my services?

The balance of your fee
is on the kitchen table.

Along with a standing rib roast.

That sounds fair enough.

Mr. Deadbolt, if
you would be so kind

mother's strongbox, please.

Hey, you can't scam my Johnny.

Oh, yes, she can, sugar.

Wait a minute. What is that I
smell burning in the kitchen?

My sticky buns.

Aah!

You just fell for the
oldest trick in the book.

Alright, Deadbolt, open the box.

I can't pick this lock.

Do I have to do
everything myself?

Whoa!

Well, what's in it? Jewels?

- Gold?
- Cash?

No.

Just as I suspected.

Recipes.

Don't touch those.
They're secret.

- They're for mother's new book.
- Uh-huh.

"Eggplant parmigiana,
chicken gumbo.

"Sticky buns."

Say, didn't I see
a certain heiress

fixing all these
same dishes today?

You mean she
knocked off her old lady

for a couple of lousy wecipes?

"Recipes", you bozo.

No. She didn't k*ll her
mother. She didn't have to.

There never was a mother.

I don't get it.

I did a little checking.

A friend of mine down at the
hall of records owed me a favor.

Seems that our Miss
Neighborly here is an orphan.

Alright, it's true.

But I wanted to be
more than an orphan.

I wanted to be the
finest cook in America

and make a fortune
on my recipes.

Why did you have
to invent a mother?

Don't you get it, Lucky?

Whoever would believe
that a dame this gorgeous

would know her way
around the kitchen?

Yeah, and besides...

people want home cooking,
just like mother used to make.

Not just like orphan
used to make.

But if there never was a mother

why did you pretend
she was missing?

Because I was tired.

Tired of her
getting all the glory.

They were my
recipes. It was my book.

She didn't create caramel
crab cake surprise, I did.

Me, the daughter.

But mother said, "The daughter
had to stay in the background."

But I am the mother,
and the daughter.

Mother, daughter.
Mother, daughter.

Aah!

Snap out of it, Sybil.

Well, it looks like
this case is closed.

Not so fast, Harper.

Those recipes
are worth a bundle.

I'm feeling real
maternal myself.

Yeah.

I could be a mother, too.

I'll cut you all in.

- Alright, let's get her.
- No. No.

It's over, Harper.

No! No! No!

No!

No. No!

- Mrs. Harper, wake up.
- Oh, back off, you g*ons!

You keep your lousy "wecipes."

Calm down, mama, you
were having a bad dream.

Guess what, Thelma?
We found mother.

Yeah, seems she heard the
bell from the ice-cream truck

and followed him all
the way down the street.

Well, it didn't make many
stops, so she couldn't catch it.

And before the
poor thing knew it

she was three blocks away.

Then mother needed quick
energy to get back home

so she stopped in
at The Donut Hut.

And that's where we found her.

Right next to the front door

seated on the
first three stools.

Well, I'm glad this
mystery is finally solved.

- Did you all hear that?
- What? I didn't hear a thing.

- Hear what?
- Well, that settles it.

The next time I watch
a movie marathon

it's gonna be "Shirley
Temple Week."

Stop that!
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