07x09 - Shoe Business Is My Life

[bunniefuu]

- Whoa! This lobby
is laden with Loudons.

- Hi, Michael.

- Michael! I knew I smelled
a dozen long-stemmed roses.

- What did you call
those things again?

Roses?

- Joanna, I give you flowers.

- I wouldn't call a packet
of Burpee seeds romantic.

- Boy, there is no pleasing.

- Anyway, this is
my way of saying that

due to a pile of paperwork,

I have to press the pause
button on our lunch date.

- Michael, you're a producer.
Lunch is what you do.

- Try telling it to
that tyrant Nancy.

She's turning the
station into a sweatshop.

- I thought the new
station owner was a man.

- He is. She's...
she's the gofer.

- You're afraid
of the office help?

- Jiminy Cricket, Steph.
She's bossy and she's whiney.

She complains
about every little thing.

Thank goodness I have
you to come home to.

- You've been blessed.

- Why don't you plop
these posies in Perrier

while I jump on the
blab wagon with d*ck.

- Snip the ends, fill the
vase, change water often.

Oh, Joanna, you're so
lucky you never get flowers.

- I've been blessed, too.

- d*ck, I don't know how to
handle this gofer from hell.

She's already trying to
sabotage Vermont Today

by quibbling over
next week's guest.

- You mean J.D. Salinger?

- Sure. I mean, that's
who you'd be stuck with

if hipper heads
hadn't prevailed.

- Who did I get, Michael?

- The Amazing Earl.

- Don't tell me...
a fortune teller?

- Pshaw, Joanna. Anyone
can predict the future.

The Amazing Earl predicts
the past with 90% accuracy.

- There's, uh...
there's got to be a trick.

- He was just a normal guy.

Last year, a brick
fell on his head,

and he predicted the
Beatles would break up.

- Are you talking about
The Amazing Earl?

Yesterday, at the town square,

he predicted we'd have a
man on the moon by 1970.

- Hi. I'm Larry.

This is my brother Darryl,

and this is my
other brother, Darryl.

- "Can o' history"?

- We're collectin' artifacts
for our time capsule.

Darryl here feels that George,

as a member of the town's
oldest and nearly extinct family,

should be the
first to contribute.

- Gee, I'm flattered, but I
don't know what to donate.

- Don't you want to
leave some kind of legacy,

or at least enjoy the
secret thrill of knowing

that somethin' of yours
is trapped underground?

- Kind of hard to turn down
an offer like that, George.

- How about my hammer?

My dad gave it to me,
and his dad got it at Sears.

- Sears.

- Here, Larry.

See if those future folk can
keep up with a day in my life.

- Wow! Power breakfast, brunch,

late lunch, high
tea, cocktails, dinner.

Well, no need for a
Snickers to tide you over.

- Harris, I'm still waiting
for those requisition forms.

- Nancy, let up!

I realize this is your
first job in television,

so let's review the
chain of command.

You're a... a gofer which
puts you right about here.

And I'm a producer which
puts me right about here,

and it would take you
roughly a bazillion promotions

just to look me in the belt.

- In the time it took
you to say all that,

you could have done
those requisitions.

Well, Paul and Bud. On
another coffee break, boys?

- What if we are?

- I sure hope no one squeals
to the new station owner.

- I'm tellin' you, Mike,
if it were up to me,

she'd have a size 12
bootmark on her behind.

- Tell him what you
did to people like that

in the service, Paul.

- You know, Mike,
we can get rid of her.

I mean, just between you,
me, the walls, and Bud,

who runs this station?

- Well, natch, that would...
that would be yours truly.

- With us behind you, we could
send that pushy pest packin'

and have her poundin'
the pavement by the p.m.

- Perfectly put,
Paul, but practical?

- She's not PIV material, Mike.

I wouldn't be surprised
if she sleeps around.

- The harlot!

- Strike while the iron is hot.

Oh, Sue, would you be
so kind as to ask Mr. Gorski

to step into
Mr. Harris's office?

Thank you.

Now, are we all
together on this? Bud?

- I hear she sleeps around.

- Mike?

- Are you sure we
shouldn't let this notion

do one more lap
around our noggins?

Pretty noble...

considering how she
ragged on your last haircut.

- She criticized my coif!

- What is it, Michael?

- Mr. Gorski, we have a problem.

I'm afraid that gofer's
getting a little too big

for her Nancy pants.

- Hmmm, go on.

- Well, she's disruptive.

She's bossy, and as far
as her taste in hairstyles...

- Michael says
she sleeps around.

- Oh.

- Well, I'm afraid
all my instincts cry,

nix this nudnick!

- Well, I certainly admire
your courage and conviction

to take a stand like this...

against my daughter who is
my single purpose in living.

- A beautiful girl.

- Precious.
- Isn't she though?

- And you've spoken
your heart and I've listened.

Now get the hell out of here.

- Good job, Mikey.

Hi!

We're here to give you
a time capsule update

with a hearty thank you

for the generous donation
of your penny loafers.

- Penny loafers?

You... you gave
them my lucky shoes?

- Honey, they were old and worn.

- Great. Now what
am I supposed to wear

with my lucky socks?

- Well, I made a sacrifice, too.
I gave them my lavender scarf.

- The one I gave
you for your birthday?

- Ooops!

I think I'll go upstairs and
ram a spike through my tongue.

- You know, while
Darryl was diggin',

he stumbled across quite
a find which reminds me...

would you care
to join us tonight

in a rousing game of
Guess the Carcass?

It's more fun with teams.

- Well, you... you
don't have to tell me.

- Miss Stephanie.

May I say that your artifact
was the most popular,

at least with Darryl.

- Oh, Larry, of course you may.

- What, uh... what
did you donate?

- An authentic, one-of-a-kind
Stephanie Vanderkellen lip print

on tissue paper.

- Come on, Darryl.

Let's go grease up
for Guess the Carcass.

- Break out the congrats.

Nancy and I are no
longer nose to nose

on the same grindstone.

- Well, I'm surprised.
I-I thought she'd last.

- Actually, d*ck, she did.
The a* fell right about here.

- Crawl back, Michael!

Crawl like you've
never crawled before!

- No can do, Steph.

I bad-yacked the
boss's youngling.

- Nan-Nancy is
Gorski's daughter?

- Curse those
executive loins of his.

- Michael, you're upsetting
the delicate balance

between a high-income job
and a showpiece girlfriend.

- Cupcake, I was at that
dead-end job too long.

Stagnation may be all right
for someone like d*ck, but...

I need more
upwardly in my mobile.

- I feel a worry
wrinkle coming on.

- Unknit that brow, Steph.

This is just the
jumpstart I need.

In fact, tonight we
celebrate my availability.

How about it, d*ck? Open invite.

- Oh, I'm afraid I've got to
grease up for Guess the Carcass.

- Well, Mr., uh, X...

Anyone who can
type 20 words a minute

will always have
a job in this town.

Now report to Rita
in Job Placement

for your assignment.

Uh, Michael Harris?

- In the skin.

- I'm Dotty Stansbury.

Now what sort of job
are you looking for?

- Well, I'm not picky.

What do you have in
the mucho moolah range

with percs aplenty?

- No, I mean, what
field are you in?

What skills do you have?

- I look incredible
in earth tones.

I can schmooze with the best,

and I'm the king
of the countdown.

- Oooh, you must
be in television.

- Bingus!

- Rita.

- Yes, Dotty.

Mr. Harris is in television.

- Do we have anything for him?

Something preferably in
the mucho moolah range

with percs aplenty.

- What a lucky day!
WPIV needs a producer.

It seems that their last one
had sort of a psychotic episode.

He called the owner's
daughter a nudnick!

Oh, fiddlesticks.

I just remember I sent
that nice Mr. X over there.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Oh. Well, we have an
opening for a waiter.

- Sorry, not my table.

- Oh, they need a checker
at Meinke's Grocery.

- Excuse me, I don't
see any blue in this collar.

- Hmmm, did you say
you wanted something

in the mucho moolah range?

- Welcome to my neighborhood.

- Where all your
meals would be paid for,

even those you eat at home?

- Company car?

- Of course, and a house.

Jinkies!

- And you'd have no
responsibilities whatsoever.

- Sounds too good to be true.

- And why do you think that is?

- Because a lot of jobs
don't come with houses?

- No, Mr. Harris, because
I was making it up.

There is no job.
- No job?

- This employment agency
only services the real world.

Now as far as I can
see, you have no skills,

and you have only
ridiculous expectations.

I'm afraid in this town,

that makes you
virtually unemployable.

Hi, everybody.

- Some-something wrong, George?

- Uh, my hammer.
It's six feet under.

Gone forever.

- George, you have
other hammers.

- Yeah.

They're not the
same as Old Blue.

- Old, uh... Old... Old Blue?

- Well, I have to
call it something.

Sounds dumb to say
you just miss a hammer.

- Michael?

- Well, d*ck.

Page out of Ripley's.

What, uh, what
are you doing here?

- Joanna buried
my penny loafers.

So wh-what are you doing here?

- Why the third degree, d*ck?

- I just thought it was
kind of odd, you know,

seeing you at a
discount shoe store.

- Pfft, last time I checked,

browsing for Buster
Browns was still legal.

- All right, Harris. Break
is over. Back to work.

- Michael, you... you work here?

- Promise you'll never
tell another human being

you saw me here?

- Sure.
- Blood buddy promise?

- Do you work here?
- No, he does.

- A little louder, d*ck.

There's someone across
the street who didn't hear you!

- Good afternoon, madam.

May I show you something
from our collection of fine vinyl?

- Steph's going to
think I'm a failure!

- Michael, there's nothing wrong
with working in a shoe store.

What... what are
you? The manager?

- The, uh, the
assistant manager?

- My official title is junior
apprentice shoe stocker.

- You the new apprentice?

- No, that would be him.

- So you're the guy
that got my old job.

- Look, mister, if you need
anyone to show you the ropes,

call on me. The name's Timmy.

It's okay, mister. I
cried, too, my first day.

- Sit down, d*ck. Pretend
you're buying shoes.

- I am buying shoes.

- Perfect!

Four days ago, I was
Michael Harris, TV wonder kid.

Now look at me.

I'm touching people's feet!

Wow, narrow dogs, d*ck.

- Maybe, uh, maybe you'll
learn something about yourself.

- Really, d*ck, can't we
crank the dimmer switch

on that bright side?

I want to be
Michael Harris again!

- You didn't stop
being Michael Harris

just because you lost your job.

- Wake up, d*ck! I push pumps!

- Michael, you may
have slipped a few rungs

on that ladder of success,

but you're still
on... on that ladder.

The... the important
thing is to...

To give it all you've got and...

And take some
pride in what you do.

- I don't know, d*ck.

Timmy left some
pretty big shoes to fill.

- Timmy may be good,
but you could be better.

I mean, try selling shoes
the Michael Harris way.

- Right! The Michael Harris way!

Here, d*ck. Why don't
you slip these on for size?

- Um, uh, Michael, Michael,

they're... they're
a little tight.

Please, please, d*ck!

I need this sale bad!

- Maybe after a
little breaking in

th-they'll be all right.

- Well, you'll be
sure to want to buy

some of these shoe stretchers.

- Michael, I-I...
Please, please, d*ck!

Please! I need this sale bad!

Oh, thank you.

Thank you! I love
this man so much.

- He'll be... He'll be
with you in a minute.

- Thank you, George.

You're very good
in an emergency.

- I never built an
eyeshadow rack before.

Did I ever tell you about
the time Old Blue and I...

- Yes, yes, George.

- Hi. Ready to gaze in wonder

at the remnants
of simpler times?

- Larry, it's... it's
only been a week.

A time capsule is supposed
to be buried for... 100 years.

- We had to open it early.
Darryl put in a library book.

- Larry, isn't this silly?

I mean, things can
hardly change in a week.

- Sure they can!

For starters, Michael isn't
a TV producer anymore,

and our friend,
that nice Mr. X, is.

In comparison, time
has been much kinder

to your lip print,
Miss Stephanie.

- Raspberries in the Snow.

I can't believe I
ever wore that shade.

- Maybe not in
these modern times,

but a more archaic
Miss Stephanie did.

And here we have some kind
of primitive pounding device.

- Oh boy!

- Must feel good to see Old
Blue again, huh, George?

- Really, d*ck, now
that I have it back,

it sounds kind of dumb
to call a hammer Old Blue.

- Look, ancient footwear.

Evidently worn by some early
and narrow-footed townsperson.

- Thank God! With
these new shoes,

I was starting to
walk like Jerry Lewis.

- And my scarf?

- Eck! What happened?
Tomato sauce?

- Yes, ma'am.

I'm afraid I packed it too
close to Darryl's donation,

a Domino's pizza.

- Here, you keep it.

In case you meet a
nice girl... or something.

- Uh-oh.

It appears that someone
has violated the sanctity

of the time capsule
for a quick snack.

Well, Darryl, just for
that, there'll be no goin'

to the Fluff 'n Fold
for those dryer rides.

- What's wrong, Stephanie?

- Oh, I was just remembering
the good old days

when Michael had a job.

I miss bragging about him.

- You know, he's
still... still Michael,

whether he's a producer...
or some... something lower.

- Hello, Steph.

- Michael, why are
you talking so... plain?

What's wrong?

- Well, I'm uh,
I'm a wee bit wary

about telling you this, Steph.

- Oh, you can tell me
anything. You know that.

Now whatever it is,
can it really be that bad?

- I'm so lucky to have someone
in my life so understanding.

- Get to the point.
- All right.

You tell her, d*ck.

- Uh, about what?

- It was your idea.

- What was your idea?

- To te-tell Stephanie that...
Michael is working in a...

In a shoe store.

Michael!

I guess this is goodbye, Steph.

- Goodbye, Michael!

- Wait!

Wait, wait! Wait a
minute! This is crazy!

You... you can't
break up with someone

just because they're...

They're working in
a-a discount shoe store.

- Discount?

- I thought of faking
my own death, muffin.

d*ck put jerky ideas in my
head about being proud of myself,

no matter what I do!

- He would say
something like that!

- d*ck, do you
always have to meddle

in other people's business?

- I'm not... I'm not
meddling. I mean, there's...

There's nothing wrong
with... with selling shoes.

- Well, d*ck, if you're
through slapping

a condemned sign on
my heart, I'll be going.

- I'll miss you, Michael.
- I'll miss you, too, Steph.

- Wait, wait! That's it?

I mean... you... You
give up so easily?

- Well, come on, d*ck. I
could never respect someone

who dates a stockboy.

- I mean, you've been
going together for five years.

You... you... you can't
give up that easily.

- What difference does it make
how long we've been linked?

I'm a... a shoe man!

- Michael, wait. Don't go.

I think d*ck finally said
something that makes sense.

- Law of averages.

- And it had something
to do with us?

- Yes. Bear with
me for a minute.

Doesn't this all remind you

of that sappy Christmas
movie you like so much?

- Silent Night, Deadly Night?

- No. That other one,

where all those horrible things
happened to that poor banker.

- It's a Wonderful Life.

- That's it, and no
matter how bad it got,

that brave and lovely
woman stood right by his side,

and in the end, all
these people came over

and gave them big piles of cash.

- Yeah, I love that ending.

Stephanie, are you saying
you'd be willing to consider

being the brave and
lovely cupcake by my side?

- I think I could play that.

You could be my Jimmy Stewart...

and I'll be your
Michelle Pfeiffer.

- Wasn't that Donna Reed?

- Not in my version.

- Then we still have a chance?

- Lean on me, Michael.

Somehow I'll find the
strength to get us through these

very troubled and
hopefully temporary times.

- Jeepers creepers,
cuppers! It is a wonderful life!

- What... what is it they say?
Whenever two dumbbells ring...

An angel gets his wings?

- Meow.