09x11 - Poetic Justice

[bunniefuu]

To a deluxe apartment
in the sky

We finally got
a piece of the pie

in the kitchen

Beans don't burn
on the grill

Took a whole lot of
tryin'

Just to get up that
hill

Now we're up
in the big leagues

As long as we live
it's you and me, baby

Ain't nothin' wrong
with that

Well, we're movin' on up

To the East Side

To a deluxe apartment
in the sky

We finally got
a piece of the pie

Hey, Weez.

Hi, George.

-Boy, do I love
Wednesdays.
-Why's that?

Because Wednesday
is Florence's day off
and you make my lunch.

Aww. Today is Tuesday.

-See you later.
-Oh, wait, George.

I have a little present
for you.

It's to celebrate a very
special time in our lives.

What time?

Well, I'll give you a
hint.

It was a warm summer
night.

The lights were low,
the moon was bright

and you were young.

Oh, yeah.
I remember that.

Were you there?

George, today is the
anniversary of our first date.

Oh, well,
give me my present.

Let me see here.

A book?

A book of poems, uh?

A book of dumb poems!

"One snowy day
in deep December

I'll see a bright
spring flower,
just by sitting to remember,

how you look this hour..."

This is sickening, Weez.
Who wrote this junk?

You did, George.

Not bad.

Where'd you find this?

Well, a few weeks ago,

I was looking through
some old things

and I ran across these
poems tucked in with your love
letters.

And I couldn't believe
how beautiful they were.

Well, consider the source.

That's why I
couldn't believe it.

Anyhow, I decided to
have them printed up.

I thought it would make
a perfect gift.

Yeah, but I didn't get
a gift for you.

Oh, you've given
me enough.

Oh, good, let's eat.

Wait, George.

I want to read
something to you.

Oh, Weez! Okay, read!

"I want to take
your hand in mine"

"And make our
footsteps intertwine."

And it was because of
this poem I let you hold
my hand for the first time.

And it was because of this
poem on page eight,

that I let you kiss me for
the first time.

What do you mean
you let me?
You begged me.

And it was because of
this poem on page
that I almost let you...

-Never mind.
-Oh!

I did all the begging
that time.

Weezy, that was
all a long time ago,

and it's all so personal.
It's embarrassing.

Why should it be
embarrassing
about these poems?

They were written during
a period of love, passion,
ecstasy...

I know, but we're past
all that now.

Didn't you mean
all those things?

Yeah. Everything that
led up to page .

So, thank you
for the book.

I will always treasure it.

And now I'm gonna put it
someplace where
I won't lose it.

Oh, George! Why are you
so ashamed of these poems?

They reveal what a sweet,
caring, vulnerable manyou are.

Yeah, I know, Weezy.
It's okay for me
and you to look at

but I don't want nobody
else to see it.

I hope this is the only
book.

Well, almost.

Well, you see,
in order to get it printed,

I had to order
a minimum of .

There are other copies.

Oh, I'll k*ll myself...

after I change my will
and leave you penniless.

Don't worry, George,
I'm sure nobody else
will read them.

There you are.

Who would believe there was such
a great big heart in that
itty-bitty body.

I had no Idea you wrote
such beautiful poetry.

Penniless, Weez.

Oh, come on, George,
I didn't think it would hurt
to let Florence take a peek.

After all, she's almost
a member of the family.

Yeah, she looks like
your grandmother.

It won't work,
Mr. Jefferson.

I know now that beneath
all those insults stands
a man with true sensitivity.

You see what you've done, Weez?
Florence likes me.

Oh, I think he's blushing.

Ain't that cute.

You know, Mrs. Jefferson,
I always wondered what made
a wonderful woman like you

marry a man like that.

Now, I know.

Just one question.

What in the world made you
stay with him?

Look, you better
not show that book to nobody.

Oh, George, don't worry,
Florence knows
about the poems,

you know about them
and I know about them
and that's it.

Good.
Let's keep it that way.

Loved your poems,
Mr. Jefferson.

Don't tell me
you read 'em too?

Oh, no, sir.
I had the book

but I was unfortunate enough
to be without my reading
glasses at the time.

Oh, thank God.

So, I got Mrs. Goldman from
C to read 'em aloud
for me in the laundry room.

-Weez!
-I didn't give it to him.

-Then who did?
-I don't...

Oh!

Oh, now, George,
don't get so excited.

It was only Ralph
and Mrs. Goldman

and I'm sure they can be
trusted not to tell
anyone else.

-Right, Ralph?
-Right, ma'am. Absolutely.

It's Mrs. Segal
I'd be concerned about.

Who's she?

She was the one passing out
the tissues

to the other weeping women
in the laundry room.

Most of them were
too moved... to fold.

Ralph! I want my book back
and I want it now!

I'd be happy to return
your book to you, sir, but, uh,

it's at home with
my collection of great works
of the western world.

Let me see, it's either
next to Voltaire,
or T.S. Eliot or...

Hi, George. Hi, Louise.

Oh, Ralph, thanks for
that book of poetry.

Or I loaned it
to Mr. Willis.

Get out, Ralph!

I suppose this is an
inopportune moment
to ask for a gratuity.

Gratuity for what.
For humiliating me?

For ruining me?
For making my whole life
miserable?

Whatever you can
spare, sir.

Willis, tell me you didn't
read the book.

I wept, George.

Oh, did you weep?

-I wept too.
-Oh, of course you did.

-They were beautiful.
-Inspirational.

I... I... I couldn't believe it.

Ah, the soul of the man!

I would say,
the size of the man.

But after reading your
poems, I can't.

Willis, give me
my book back.

Why, George,
you're blushing.

I want my book, Willis!

Oh, you're cute
when you're angry.

And you're fat
all the time.

Now give me the book.

Well, it's not quite
as simple as that.

You see, I was having
this meeting with
a publisher friend of mine.

Willis, the book.

His name is Graham Gregory.

He's very prominent
in the publishing industry.

Just give me the book.

Well, I left the book open
on my desk and I went out
to get another donut

and well he probably saw
it and picked it up.

You mean,
you don't have the book?

That's what I'm
trying to tell you.
He took the book with him.

George, you seem
a little miffed.

Oh, yeah, well,
how would you like it
if I told everybody

all the personal things
you say to Helen?

Helen, I ate too much.
Helen, I ate too fast.

Give me an Alka-Seltzer
or better yet,
give me a drumstick.

George, I can't believe
you are carrying on like this.

Okay, okay, Weezy.
I'll calm down.

But I just want
to tell you one thing.

What?
Not only am I going
to leave you penniless

but I also want you to
pay me back for everything
I ever bought you!

Hi, George.
Guess what?

I know. I know.

You read my poems,
you loved them, and you think
I'm a sensitive genius.

Well, no.

I haven't read
any of your poems,

I'm sure I'd hate them if I had.

And I think you're
an insensitive bull.

Thank you. Come on in.

Hi, Louise. Oh, but I do
have a message for you.

A publishing friend of Tom's, a
Mr. Gregory called.

Here's his number.
He wants you to call him
as soon as you can.

For what?
All he said was
that he wants

to talk with you
about your work.

His work?

Hey, that could be
very exciting.

You know, I told him
you weren't
a professional poet,

that you were a dry cleaner,
but he still seemed interested.

Oh, call him, George.

Are you kidding?
It's sickening enough

I got everybody in the
building calling me a genius.

Well, it is an improvement
over what they usually call you.

Yeah, you could be
missing an opportunity.

You know, the last poet
he published is on
the best seller lists.

-Who cares?
-He's made a lot of money.

-Who cares?
-He's on Johnny Carson
almost every other week.

Gimme the number.

Wait a minute, I thought
you didn't want anybody
to see your poems.

Johnny Carson
ain't just anybody.

I'm talking about everyday
morons laying their eyeson 'em.

Now, hold it.

Now, George, I never
intended for those poems
to go public.

They're personal.

Weezy, it's just about you and
me, and our love life.

What's so personal about that?
Hello, Mr. Graham?

George Jefferson here. Uh, yeah.
Willis said you like my work.

Yeah, oh, yeah.
I am one of the great ones.

Say why don't we get together,
say tonight at my place?

Same building Tom Willis
lives in. Right, apartment D.

Okay, see you soon.
Oh, by the way.

Ciaofor now.

That's the last poem
he gets for free.

He's coming over tonight?

That's right.
He wants to publish
my poems.

But you don't have
enough poems for
a real book.

Weezy, I got all afternoon.
I could knock a whole
volume of classics

and still have time to watch
The Flintstonestonight.

Are you sure you know
what you're doing?

Trust me, Weez.
Oh, remember one thing.

You made me what I am.

I love you.

-Oh, let me see
what you're writing.
-No.

You're not gonna hear
these poems until
Mr. Gregory gets here.

A true artiste never reveals
incomplete work.

Oh, come on. God revealed you.

Okay.
You can read this one.

Well, what do you think?

They say a picture is
worth a thousand words.

So, picture this.

What are you doing?

That stuff ain't the same
as the other stuff you wrote.

I know, see that was
my mushy period.

I've decided to go
contemporary.

Well, you better hope
that guy decides to go deaf.

What do you know?
You ain't got no taste.

You don't even know
how to dress.

Anyway, look... I want you
to give an introduction
for me tonight.

I got an introduction
for you all right.

Mr. Jefferson,
this is Bellevue.

Bellevue,
this is Mr. Jefferson.

You're wrong already.
The man's name is Gregory.

Anyway, I wrote
my own introduction.

I just want you
to present it.

In that case,
I have a little
poem for you too.

No way, Jose!

I'll give you bucks.

It says there I have
to call you a genius.

That's worth
at least .

Okay, I'll make it
brilliant for ?

I'll pay you
and call you goofy.

This is a big night for me.

You can't do me
one little favor?

Oh, okay, okay.

I've been working here
a long time

and you have been
nice to me along the way.

So, because of my warm,
generous Christian heart, I'll
do it...

Thank you.
...for .

A hundred and fifty?
Okay. But you better
make him believe it.

If he believes this
you better give him the .

Imagine, our own
George Jefferson a poet!

Can you tell us anything
about his new work?

Well, he wouldn't
show them to me.

He wants them to be fresh
when he reads them to
Mr. Gregory tonight.

-But Florence did read one.
-Oh, what'd she say?

Oh, refreshments!

I'm sorry, but these
are not for eating.

-What are they for then?
-Throwing.

You mean the poems
are that bad?

Let me put it this way...

I spent my own money
for this fruit.

Where is George, anyway?

Oh, he said he won't come
out until Mr. Gregory
gets here.

Oh, I'll get it.

Yes, Graham Gregory
to see George Jefferson, please.

Graham Gregory
to see George Jefferson.

Thank you, Florence.

Mr. Gregory,
how nice to meet you.

I'm Louise Jefferson.
George will be right out.

Well, thank you.
I am looking forward to
meeting your husband.

-Fruit?
-Uh, maybe later.

I'm sure.

Uh, Mr. Gregory,
you know Tom Willis.

Tom!
Hi Graham, good to
see you again.

This is my wife Helen.

-Mrs. Willis.
-How do you do?

George really appreciates
your coming over here
on such short notice.

Well, the fact is that
he's doing me the favor.

You must be a lonely man.

Uh, well, why don't we
all sit down?

Uh, Mr. Gregory,

Tom tells us
that you're quite
a successful publisher.

Well, let's just say that
I have good instincts.

Not only have I discovered
lot of talented writers,
but, uh...

I also predicted that
leg warmers would be
the rage in .

So, Graham, you read
George's poems?

Poems? Oh, yeah, yeah.

He's obviously an
extremely thoughtful
and sensitive man.

GEORGE: Florence,
get your butt in gear!

The call of Mr. Sensitive.

Well, I guess
that's my cue.

"Ladies and gentlemen,"

"Webster defines greatness
as eminent, renowned,
distinguished."

"But he left out
two other words.
George Jefferson."

I think Webster left out
two other words.

Bo Zo.

"So without further ado,
let me introduce
your friend," not mine..."

"George Jefferson."

Tom, sit.

Mr. Gregory.

We'll talk later.
Thank you.

Louise, your bongos.

My what?

Your bongos. You know,
like we do every night.

You play while
I read my poems.

Oh, those.

Gosh, George.
Give someone else a chance.

-Florence?
-Not on your life.

-Helen?
-Not on a bet.

-Willis?
-Gladly!

Tom!

Oh, don't worry, Helen.
I know how to play
these things.

Why I accompanied
Bam Bam Mahoney

when she did her specialty
act at our frat house.

She had those tassels
going in every direction.

She actually hit me
in the eye with one.

Now, you know,
there is poetry everywhere.

Not now, Willis.

Oh, sorry.

As I was saying,
there is poetry everywhere.

In the subway,
the trash chutes.

In books.

It's all around us
in our daily lives,
if only we just observe.

Thus...

Ode to a Steam Press.

"Merrily, yea, merrily."

Give me those!

As I was saying.
"Merrily, yea, merrily.

The pants were a mess.

Their fabric called out,

"Where, oh, where the hell
is the steam press?"

I think we're ready for this.

-Well, how about that,
everybody?
-Thank you.

Mrs. Willis,
you've been here before?

And you came back?

My husband has fun here.

Uh, George,
don't take this as criticism,
but you know what I miss?

That heartfelt emotion
that we all saw in your
first poems.

Heart felt emotion you
want, heartfelt emotion you got.

Oh, boy. When I wrote this
one I was racked with pain.

It was a dark, dark day.

The only way I could get
the anguish out of my system
was to put it down on paper.

It's called...

Ode to the Cancellation
of Hawaii Five- .

-George, please!
-No, Weez, I got to get it out.

Ready?

"Lord, oh Lord,
what's happened to Jack?

I fear, I fear,
he'll never be back.

No one can ever know my woe.

When for the last time
I heard, 'Book 'em, Danno.'"

That was very moving.

Thank you.

Well, listen, do you suppose
that we could, uh, talk now?

Quote your price.

Well, I was hoping
you'd quote me one.

You mean I can write
my own ticket for my poems?

Poems? No!

I was wondering
how much you'd charge

to clean little league
baseball uniforms?

Ninety-seven, ninety-five,
plus tax, five dollars off
with a coupon.

Why do you want
to know that?

Well, Tom told me you were
an excellent dry cleaner.

You see, I manage
a little league team

and a lot of our sponsors
donate services,

so I was hoping
you might donate yours.

Oh, yeah, sure!
Anything anything you want.

Okay, now back to my poems.

How soon do you
wanna publish 'em?

Publish them?

Yeah, you're
a publisher, right?
Yes.

Well, Willis said
you liked my work.

Your work?

Oh, oh.

I see what this
was all about.

I mean... Oh,
Mr. Jefferson, I'm sorry.

You see, I came here
looking for a dry cleaner
to sponsor my team and...

you thought I was
interested in your poetry.

I mean, I read
your little book.

And I think
they're very nice.

They're sincere,
and they're from
the heart, but...

I just don't think
they'd have any mass appeal.

But Willis liked 'em.
He's a mass.

Florence, bring me
that fruit bowl.

Thank you.

Look, I am sorry about
the mix-up, but I really do have
to be going. Uh...

Thank you very much,
Mr. Jefferson.

I'll send the uniforms off
to you tomorrow, and...

Listen, I really am very
sorry.

Oh, no, no, no.
That's okay.

Poetry is just my hobby.
I mean, dry cleaning is my life.

Well, on the bright side,
not every man has
a sensitive soul,

but everybody gets dirty.

Come on, Helen,
let's walk Graham out.

Goodnight, Louise.
Florence.

Uh, Tom, you really liked
those poems we just heard?

Well, I don't know
about the poetry

but I knew that if I
played the bongos,
they'd give me fruit.

What does he know?
He's only one publisher.

I know there's a lot of
publishers in this town

who'd die for these poems.
Right, Florence?

If they read 'em
they'd probably die laughing.

Are these poems really
that lousy, Weez?

Now, George,
lousy is a pretty
harsh word.

But, yes.

I don't understand it.

I thought everybody
said they were so great.

George, they were.

But there was something
different about tonight's.

Maybe you were
a little rushed.

Maybe you weren't
in the mood.

Or maybe you were
distracted by the bongos.

-The bongos...
-You see.

No, come on, Weezy.

We both know what
the difference was.
I mean, let's face it,

these poems were
all about dumb things.

Well, except
for Hawaii Five- .

Now see, my other poems,
they were about something
that really matters to me.

-What?
-You.

Oh, George. That's more
beautiful to me than all
the poetry in the world.

Really?

Really.

George.

Why don't you read

a little something out
of your first volume to me?

Okay. Which one do you
want to hear?

Oh, how about something
from page ?

Page ?
You got it.

Oh, wait a minute,
let me get the book.