04x13 - Poetic License

[bunniefuu]

♪ ♪

♪ The new boy
in the neighborhood ♪

♪ lives downstairs
and it's understood ♪

♪ he's there just to take
good care of me ♪

♪ like he's one of the family ♪

♪ Charles in charge ♪

♪ of our days and our nights ♪

♪ Charles in charge ♪

♪ of our wrongs
and our rights ♪

♪ and I see I want ♪

♪ Charles in charge of me ♪

♪ Charles in charge ♪

♪ of our days and our nights ♪

♪ Charles in charge ♪

♪ of our wrongs
and our rights ♪

♪ and I see I want I want ♪

♪ Charles in charge of me ♪♪

Buddy, Buddy, guess what?
I saw her again today!

We, we were both in the
library and our eyes met!

Good, now, maybe next time, the
rest of your bodies can meet!

No, no, no, not yet, Buddy.

This is not the type of girl
you just walk up to

and, and hit on, you know?

She's gotta be handled
with kid gloves.

- Hi, ya boys!
- Hey, Mom.

- Everything all right?
- Everything is fine!

Yeah, except Charles
is madly in love

with a woman
he's never spoken to.

But, Buddy,
I am gonna speak to her.

I just have to find
the right approach.

Does this woman have a name?

Probably, I, I just
don't know what it is.

You see, mom, this is not
the type of girl

you just walk up to and say
"Hey, baby, what's your name?"

- It's Luanne Fitzgerald.
- How do you know?

I just walked
up to her and said,
"Hey, baby, what's your name?"

Yeah, all right, well,
you know her name,

but you don't know
anything else about her.

I mean, she's, she's obviously
a very private person.

That's true, she's also a poet,
her favorite color is lilac,

she likes long walks
in the rain,

and she has a birthmark
on her upper left thigh.

He's probably guessing.

Charles, can't you talk
to this girl?

Oh, I can, Mom, I will,

it's just that I have to plan
my attack first, you know?

I mean, she has this, this
other world quality about her.

She's, she's she's different,
she, she's special!

But, you're
even more special, sweetheart,

because you're my son.

Can she say that?
I don't think so...no.

Charles, Luanne Fitzgerald
just walked into the diner!

What, don't toy with me, Buddy.

Hi, my name is
Luanne Fitzgerald.

I'm editor of the
Copeland College Poetry Review.

Well, hello!

Um, I'm handing out these
flyers, would you like one?

- Yes, he would.
- Are you busy tonight?

No, he's not busy!

I don't mean to be pushy,
it's just that,

well, you look like
you might be interested.

He's extremely interested!

Good, good, will, then, uh,
I'll see you at six o'clock!

- What was your name?
- His name is Charles.

Nice name, Charles,
I'll see you tonight, Charles.

Oh, did you hear that, Buddy?
I just made a date with Luanne!

Do you think
I came on too strong?

Well, yeah, but it worked.
You just bulled your way

into a meeting
of the Poetry Society.

- The Poetry Society?!
- Yeah, look.

All you have to do to get in
is submit an original poem.

I can't do that!

Charles, Walter just called,
and there's an emergency!

- Go home right now!
- All right,
I'm leaving now, Mom!

Charles, do you want to see
Luanne tonight or not!?

Yes, of course I do, Buddy!

Then, write an original poem,
it's easy, I'll show you.

- Give me a subject.
- Despair.

I'm in despair,
I've nothing to wear,

If I were a bear,
I'd just wear my hair.

Hey, hey, maybe I can get Sarah
to loan me a poem!

But, I'm not a bear...

This had better be
a small emergency!

Luanne, and a lot of
other beautiful women

are waiting for us
down at the Poetry Society.

[Adam grunting]

Charles, it's alive!

- Help, help, help!
- Aww, and it's in trouble!

Charles, I'm stuck!

You gotta get me outta here!

Adam, what, what is going on?

You, you told me that you were
gonna build a dinosaur,

for your science project.

You didn't say anything
about it being life size!

Oh, you don't think this giant
blob was my idea, do you!?

Then, who's idea was it?

Oooh, looking good, Adam!

It's a little small,
but I think it's gonna work!

Excuse me, madame, did you
order the jumbo dinosaur?

I just suggested that Adam
make it a little larger

so it won't go to waste
after he get's his grade!

Yeah, she's gonna use it on a
float in her homecoming parade!

Since when do you go along with
anything that Jamie wants?

After I get an 'A' on my
science project,

thousands of people will see
my name on a homecoming float!

Yes, it's gonna say
"Adam Powell,
prehistoric lizard"

Jamie, Jamie,
it's supposed to say...

"Dinosaur by Adam Powell!"
Jamie!

Charles, Charles, I want this
dinosaur out of my house!

Yes, sir.

Grandpa, just let me keep it
for three more days, please!

Well, all right.
Lembeck, I hold you responsible!

- For what?
- Everything!

Charles, I need my journal.

You know the one with all my
poetry in it, I need it now.

Oh, oh, I, I promised
I'd take it to the print shop

for you, Sarah, uh, I forgot.

Well, how could you forget,
where is it?

Well, well, what I, uh, I, I
put it on this table, right...

uh, and then, and then,
Adam came in,

and he said he was gonna
build a dinosaur

for his science project, and
then, I went into the garage

and, uh, I, to get some
newspaper for the papier-mâché,

and, and I, I put it on
this table right here, huh.

Sarah, uh,
let me ask you a question.

How, how important
is your journal to you?

- It contains my life's work!
- Ah!

Every poem I've ever written
is in that journal!

Hu-huh, um, Adam?

You said I could use all the
paper on that table, Charles.

Now, now, relax, Sarah,

your journal is a part
of a dinosaur!

It isn't lost, it's extinct!

Charles, you mean,
you gave my poems to Adam,

and now they're stuck
on a stupid dinosaur?!

[Sarah screams]

All right, Sarah, please,
please, I, I tell you what

I, I, I will come back here,
and, and, and, I will recopy

all of them for you, okay?
I promise!

Charles, The Poetry Society!

Right, okay, Sarah, first
I go to the Poetry Society,

then I'll come back here,

and I, and I'll redo your
journal for you, okay?

No, it's not okay!

Well, I'm sorry to hear
you say that, Sarah.

I thought you,
of all people,

would want me to go
to the Poetry Society.

You know, I thought you,
of all people, would want me,

you know, to develop my
artistic interests.

- Oh, all right,
go to the Poetry Society.
- Thank you.

But get my journal
redone by tomorrow!

You got it.
Oh, uh, Sarah, one more thing.

You wouldn't happen to have
a, an old poem lying around

I could borrow to get into this
Poetry Society, would you?

I have lots of them, Charles,
and you know where they are!

Hey, Charles, here, here,
here's a nice poem!

Buddy!

You guys
are in big trouble now!

Charles!
You beheaded my float!

No, no, I, I, I, I, I
didn't, Jamie, no!

Uh, uh, look, I tell you what,

I'll, I'll come back
here later,

and I'll fix it
all by myself, okay?

- And paint it?
- And paint it, deal?

[in unison]
Deal!
- All right!

I got the poem.

All right, let's go, Buddy.
We'll talk on the way.

Hey, uh, hey, Jamie,
you wanna help me outta here?

No.
- Jamie, Jamie!

That night, the moth and the
flame died in each other's arms.

Nothing was left but
the sadly singed wings of love,

and the cold,
warm memory of the fire.

[applause]

Oh, oh, now see,
that was poetry.

Well, how come
it didn't rhyme?

Thank you, we have some new
members with us tonight,

and I'd like to call upon one...

Charles,
you have a poem for us?

Uh, uh-huh,
give me the poem, Buddy.

Give me the poem!

Yeah, yeah, I do,
uh... uh, here it is!

No, you'd better hold
on to that,

You may want to refer to it
during your reading.

Reading, me, ha-ha, no,
you see actually,

I, I, I'm a very bad reader.

Ohhh, I think Charles needs
a little encouragement!

Ohhh!
- No, thank you,
thank you very much

No, I'm, I'm just...
- Ohhh!

It's all right, Charles.

I'm just not a, you know...
it's, it's just new for me.

Uh-huh, um, cue...

'The, the Reluctant Rose,'
by... me.

If only I were free to be the
butterfly I want to be.

To flit through flaming fields

of daisies, daffodils,
and pansies.

But, I, I must not think
such thoughts.

It's time for me to say goodbye
to Barbie doll and teddy bear,

And, with my budding breasts

held high,

take wings and fly to where
I've, I've never been before

and, so I cry, no longer
as a child might cry, but...

as a woman must cry.

Thank you.

Obviously, we are all stunned
to have discovered a male poet

who... who is so sensitive
to the feelings of women!

Oh, oh, oh.

Charles, you are the man I have
been looking for my whole life!

You write like... an angel!

Well, I-I can only write
what I feel.

♪ ♪

Charles, nothing has been done.

You said you were gonna finish
this two nights ago.

Then, you said you were
gonna finish it last night!

It's been three days, Charles!
You haven't made any progress!

Well, I, I, I, I would have,
sir, but the thing is, uh,

I met this girl who,
uh... oh, you know how it is.

No, Charles, how is it?

It's great!
- Really!?

No, sir, no, what I meant was

that, that, she really,
she went nuts over this poem

I didn't write!

You're beginning to sound
like Buddy Lembeck!

You called?
- No!

Charles, get this reptile
out of my living room!

And, when he's gone,
get rid of the dinosaur!

Charles,
are we gonna do this all day?

Yeah, Buddy, I gotta finish
this thing, you know.

Luanne's comin' over here
in a few minutes.
She is great!

You know, I, I didn't even mind
being embarrassed

in front of her
at that poetry reading!

[Sarah screams]

Great entrance, Sarah!

Your friend, Luanne,
published my poem

in her Poetry Review magazine!

Hey, that's great!

No, it's criminal!
She published it
under your name!

I had already turned
that poem in to my teacher!

Today, he saw it
in this magazine

and accused me
of being a plagiarist!

Hey, Sarah, be a plagiarist
if you wanna be.

I mean, your religion
is your own business!

He failed me in the class

and suspended me from school
for two weeks!

Well, well, Sarah,
I'm sure your teacher knows

that, that you wouldn't
steal a poem!

Yeah, my old teacher would,
but Mr. Werley's new!

Oh, all, all right, I'll tell
you what, Sarah.

I'll go down there right now,

and tell this Mr. Werley that
you wrote that poem, okay?

What about Luanne?

Uh... you want me
to tell Luanne?

Of course, he'll tell Luanne,

even if it means
she'll k*ll him!

Buddy, go get some more
newspapers, okay?

Eh, if it's your dying wish,
I'd be happy to.

Charles,
it's very important to me

that you tell Luanne the truth!

Okay, all right, I, I will tell
the truth, Sarah, I promise.

Okay, I trust you.
- Okay, all right.

[doorbell]
[Mr. Powell] Doorbell!
[Charles] I got it!

Hey, Luanne, uh, come on in.

Charles, did you see
your poem in my magazine?

Uh, sort of, yeah, that's what
I wanted to talk to you about.

You see...
No, there's something
I have to tell you.

No one's gonna be
at my home all night,

so I wanna fix us
a little candlelight dinner,

and then just enjoy you!
- Enjoy me?

Of course, why wouldn't I enjoy
being with the most gifted

male poet I've ever met?
I'll pick you up at eight?

What was it
you wanted to tell me?

Nothing.
- Charles!

Oh, Sarah, uh, uh, Luanne,

I, I'd like you to meet
a friend of mine.

Wrong, Charles.

You broke your promise,
and you broke my heart!

Our friendship is over!

Charles, who was that?
- Uh, that was Sarah.

She lives upstairs.
She's very emotional.

See, every once in a while,
she likes to come down here

and hit me with a magazine
and call me names.

Uh, look, I'll, I'll see you
later tonight, okay?

Okay, sure.
- All right, bye.

Sarah?!
- No, Charles, it's me, Buddy.

You lied to me, Charles!

No, no, I didn't,
I, I lied to Luanne!

Wait a minute,
you didn't tell Luanne

that Sarah wrote that poem?

No, Buddy, I couldn't.

Luanne invited me
over to her house tonight.

Nobody's gonna be there.
She wants to enjoy me!

Uh, Sarah, listen, listen,
I'm leaving' now,

and I'm gonna take care
of your teacher, okay?!

What about Luanne?

Are you gonna
take care of her, too?

I'm certainly gonna try!

Um, Mr. Werley?
I'm, uh, I'm, I'm Charles.

We, we spoke on the phone.

Oh, yes, you're the young man
who wrote Sarah's poem.

Oh, no, no, I'm the young man
who didn't write Sarah's poem.

That's what I want to
talk to you about.

Sit down, Charles.
- Thank you.

See this piece of wood?
- Yeah.

I can sand this 'til it's
smaller than a termite,

but it'll still be
a living, breathing thing.

Poems are made
by fools like you,

but only God can make a... wood.

You, you are Sarah's
poetry teacher, aren't you?

Actually, I'm a shop teacher,
wood shop.

But, last year the government
cut the school's budget.

The politicians are forcing me
to teach wood shop and poetry.

Oh, well, that's, thats very
unfair, sir.

About the poem, you see,
I borrowed it from Sarah

to, uh, impress a girl,
you know,

and, uh, and it got published
under my name.

That was pretty foolish,
Charles.
- I know.

If you really wanted to
impress this woman,

you should have made her
a nice maple magazine rack,

or some solid oak table legs.

Yes, you know,
I, I, I wasn't thinking.

Um, well, see,
the thing is, uh, uh...

Sarah didn't steal that poem
from me, I stole it from her!

You stole it from her?
Well, Sarah's pretty lucky

to have a friend who'll come
down here like you, and...

humiliate himself like this.

Only problem is, I don't
believe a word you're saying.

Well, wait, that, that poem is
in Sarah's handwriting.

Of course it was
in Sarah's handwriting,

after she copied it
from this magazine!

No, she didn't.
Now look, Mr. Werley,

I, I know you wouldn't want
to make a mistake by, by

destroying a young girl's
faith in humanity.

You're right, I wouldn't...
but, if it works out that way,

I guess I can live with it.
Good day, Charles.

All right, wait a minute, wait,

I, I know a way to prove to you
that Sarah wrote that poem.

All you have to do is come
over to her house tonight.

I don't make house calls,
Charles.

It's a wood house.

What kind of wood?

Uh, uh, uh, I believe the
exterior is, uh, is redwood!

Ah, redwood, the king of trees.

Well, I guess I could
stop by, say about 7:30?

Oh, perfect.
Thank you, Mr. Werley!

Charles, this better not be
a wild goose chase!

It's not, sir.
I'm gonna prove to you

that Sarah wrote that poem!

No, I mean about the wood.
It better be real redwood!

[doorbell rings]
All right, he's here!

Now, watch me get Sarah
off the hook!

Hi, Charles!
Hello, Buddy!

Luanne, how are, what are,
what are you doin' here?

I, I mean, I mean, your early!

Well, yeah, I guess
I'm a little early.

Would you like me to leave?

No, no, no, no, no, no!

It's just the thing's I have to
talk to, uh, talk to a guy

before I go, um,

I, look, why don't, why don't
we go into the kitchen,

I can make you a nice cup
of coffee, right this way.

All right, Buddy, listen to me,
when Mr. Werley...

Buddy, what's wrong with you?
Listen to me!

Now, when Werley get's here,
come in the kitchen, all right,

and get me, then go back in the
kitchen, and entertain Luanne.

See, I can't let her hear me

tell him
that Sarah wrote my poem!

Buddy, did Charles
tell Luanne the truth?

Uh... well... no, but, Charles
can't help himself.

You see, he's madly in love
with Luanne!

And he's afraid that she won't
like him if she finds out

that he's not really a poet!

He loves her?

And he used my poem
to express his love?

That's so romantic.
It's just like
Cyrano de Bergerac!

[doorbell rings]
Oh, excuse me.

Oh, Mr. Werley.
Oh, uh, hello, Sarah.

Hold that thought!

Ah, Mr. Werley.
Nice to see you again.

Well, here, here's the proof
that Sarah wrote that poem.

No, Charles, it's all right, I
understand everything now.

I confess, Mr. Werley,
Charles wrote the poem.

Oh, no, that, that's not true.
The child is obviously drunk!

I knew this would be
a waste of time.

No, no, it isn't, Mr. Werley.
Look, Sarah wrote that poem!

I've never written a poem
in my life.

All right, all right...

Luanne, can you
come out here please?

Uh, Luanne, this is Sarah's
poetry teacher, Mr. Werley.

Actually, I'm in wood.

The thing is, Luanne,
that the poem you printed

in your magazine,
it wasn't mine.

All right, Sarah, you told me
to tell the truth.

Now, I think you
should tell the truth.

Oh, but Charles,
I don't want to destroy
your romance with Luanne!

Well, it's, it's okay, Sarah.

You can't build
a romance on a lie.

Well, all right.

I confess, Mr. Werley,
I did write that poem.

What kind of a confession
is that?

I don't understand.

Well, you see, I, uh, I
borrowed a poem from Sarah

so I could get into the
Poetry Society,

because, well... I, I
wanted to be with you.

Charles, I still haven't
seen any proof!

Buddy, tear off a poem!

Okay, there once was a girl
from Kentucky...

Get it from the dinosaur!
- Right.

Buddy, don't, no...
don't do that!

Here you go.
- Read this head!

By golly, these are all
in Sarah's handwriting!

Sarah, your poetry
is wonderful!

I'll tell you what, I'll print
a retraction next month

and then I'll run
some of your other poems

just to make this up to you!

You will!
- Yeah.

Charles, this is why I prefer
wood shop to poetry.

Working with wood means
never having to say...

I'm sorry.

Thanks, Mr. Werley.
Thanks, Luanne.

And, Charles, thank you.

If, if, you need me,
I, uh, I'll be outside

checking your redwood exterior.

For my wife's sake,
I just hope it doesn't rain.

The smell of wet wood
turns me into an animal!

You know, I, I just wanted
you to know that...

...all the poems I wrote
were really mine.

Somehow, I knew that, Buddy.

Thank you, I'll see you later.
- Yeah, I'll talk to you later.

Uh-huh.
Look, Mr. Werley, clouds!

Well, Charles,
how 'bout that date?

What, you're kidding me, right?

I mean, you still want
to go out with me

after what I did
to get next to you?

Charles, when
I approached you in the diner,

it wasn't because
I thought you were a poet.

You see, you didn't choose me,
I chose you!

You did?
Oh, well, you got me!

Jamie, come here, quick!

What is it, what's wrong?

Charles is gone, Luanne's gone,
everybody's gone!

I don't believe this!
You know, Charles promised

that he would finish our
dinosaur tonight!

Yo, relax, I'm here!

Charles, what are you
doing inside a dinosaur?

What am I doing?
What do you think I'm doing,
Adam?

I'm workin'.
- Well, where's Luanne?

She had other plans.
Go away, let me finish!

Okay, Charles,
just hurry it up!

[laughing]
Charles, that tickles!

It wasn't me!
- Oooh!

That was me!

I'm gonna go get Grampa!

I'm gonna go get my camera!

[theme music plays]