02x23 - Ed the Beachcomber

[bunniefuu]

[whinnies]

Hello. I'm Mister Ed.

♪ A horse is a horse,
of course, of course ♪

♪ And no one can talk
to a horse, of course ♪

♪ That is, of course,
unless the horse ♪

♪ Is the famous Mister Ed ♪

♪ Go right to the source
and ask the horse ♪

♪ He'll give you the answer ♪

♪ That you'll endorse ♪

♪ He's always on
a steady course ♪

♪ Talk to Mister Ed ♪

Boy, I'm fit to be tied.

Mule head.

Agh.

[grunts]

Imagine that.

Bosh!

The nerve of that editor.

Guys like him ought to be sh*t.

I'm never going to
read his paper again.

Ed, what are you doing?

Look at that paper on the floor.

Read that editorial.

Hmm.

"Horse Becoming Extinct.

No place for equine
in today's world."

Hear what he called me?

Ed, equine, that's just
another name for horse.

Well, I have another
name for that editor. Jerk.

Don't get upset.

The man is just trying to
make a sociological point.

Yeah, some nerve
saying horses are useless.

Ed... It's vicious propaganda.

A smear campaign.

Ed... I demand equal time.

Oh, Ed, the man is
just stating a few facts.

Let's face it, the cars
replaced the horse in the city,

and tractors replaced
them in the country.

No matter where you look,
the horse is being replaced.

Yeah? And what does
Matt Dillon ride on?

A gopher?

Ed, you're being a
little too sensitive.

Come.

Oh, sensitive.

Ed, just look at your room.

Aren't you ashamed of yourself?

No.

Now look, you just calm
down. How about some lunch?

The way I feel right now,
if I ate, I'd get an ulcer.

Come on, Ed. Eat some hay.

I'm not eating a thing

till you let me
tell off that editor.

Ed... I'm on a hunger strike.

If you're on a hunger
strike, why are you eating?

You don't expect me to start
one on an empty stomach.

Look, you clean this
room up. I'll see you later.

Wilbur, I need your help.

You know that beach property
I bought some time ago?

Don't tell me. The tide came in.

You want me to
help you look for it.

That's like you. I need help,

and you throw me
an iron life preserver.

I'm sorry, Rog. What
can I do to help you?

Well, a bunch of
teenage beachcombers

have set up camp on my
property and refuse to budge.

Now all day long they lie around

playing records,
toasting weenies,

building camp fires,
riding surfboards.

What do you think I ought to do?

Join them. It sounds
like they're having a ball.

I'm worried, Wilbur.

Now these young beatniks are
destroying the value of my property.

And the worst part of it is my
wife will not let me chase them off.

And you want me to talk to her?

I very rarely ask a
favor of you, Wilbur.

All right, I'll talk to Kay.

Fine. Now, put this
on the basis of facts.

You are an architect. You
know the value of property.

You can be very persuasive
when you want to be.

True. I don't have
much luck with Carol,

but I do pretty well
with other men's wives.

What I mean is...

I'm sure you've had
a very exciting past,

but tell me some other time.

No.

[Carol] I think if we raise
the hem about 2 inches,

my dress would be in style
again. Don't you think so, Kay?

Well, I don't know, sweetie.

The way they keep raising
and lower the skirts these days,

we might as well
wear Venetian blinds.

[both chuckle]

Just tell her those
beach lizards

have no right squatting
on my property.

They're as good as
unsquatted right now.

Carol, this may be
a little bit too short,

but you're tiny. Maybe you
can get away with it. We'll see.

Kay, I was discussing the
beach situation with Wilbur.

That's right. And I think...

Yes? What do you think, Wilbur?

I think that, um...

I... I think...

I think that hem
is much too high.

Oh, but, Wilbur, they're
showing knees this year.

They're also showing
navel oranges.

Oh, honey, don't
be so old-fashioned.

Old-fashioned? I
just don't like my wife

parading her kneecaps in public.

Don't you think I'm right, Rog?

Wilbur, the beach.

On the beach, it's all right
to show your kneecaps, but...

What a wonderful idea, Carol.

Why don't we all go to
the beach this Sunday?

Oh, I'd love it.

We could lie around
in the sun and...

Yeah, we could play records.
We could build a bonfire.

We could toast weenies.
We could ride surf boards.

What do you think, Rog?

Those words do have a
familiar ring, don't they.

Oh, oh...

Uh, Kay, I was
just talking to Rog,

and he was talking
about those kids

that are camping on
your beach property.

Is this too high, Wilbur?

Um, hmm.

Oh, but, Wilbur, it's the style.

I've got to show a little knee.

Well, all right, but
just up to the dimple.

Wilbur, you were telling Kay

about the beachcombers
on my property.

Oh? Oh, yeah.

Kay, I agree with Rog.
Those kids just don't belong.

That's just their trouble,

people saying they don't belong.

That's why those
kids feel rejected.

Kay, why don't you listen
to an impartial opinion?

Wilbur, what do you think?

I think one of her knees
is lower than the other.

Oh, it's just the
way I'm standing.

I'm through talking.
It's time for action.

I'll have them
evicted by the police.

[phone rings]

Hello?

Oh, hello, Buzz.

2:00 will be fine.

Goodbye.

Who was that?

Buzz Dixon, one
of those beach kids.

He's coming by at 2:00
to ask you for a favor.

Favor? What favor?

He didn't say.

Maybe he wants to build some
units on your beach property.

- Wilbur...
- I know. Go home.

I'm going to tell
off that editor.

Hello, operator.

Get me Smedly 3-4000

I said Smedly-S
as in Sea Biscuit,

M as in Man-of-w*r,
E as in Equipoise...

Oh.

Ed, who were you calling?

That smart-aleck editor.

Ed, I told you to forget
about that editorial.

How would you like it
if somebody told you

there was no place for
people in the world today?

I'd become a horse.

Look, Ed, stop worrying
about the editorial.

I'll get you some more hay.

I told you I'm on
a hunger strike.

Come on, fella.

If you don't let me
tell off that editor,

you'll have a fading
horse on your hands.

Ed, if you feel so
strongly about it,

why don't you go down there
and bawl him out in person?

You've got a
mouth. You can talk.

You know I only
talk only to you.

Which is very foolish.

Well, I bet if that editor
heard a horse talking,

he'd stop saying
they were extinct.

If he heard me talk, the
shock would make him extinct.

Take my advice. Eat your
lunch. Forget the whole thing.

I got to mail a letter.

Can I get you some apples?

Well, maybe a few pounds.

Good.

We've got to keep your strength
up while you're on that hunger strike.

Yeah, that's
right. That's right.

Yeah, yeah.

Wilbur, do you mind
if I hide in your barn?

Kay and those beachnik
kids are looking for me.

Oh, Rog, look. If you're worried
about selling that beach property,

I think I may have
a prospect for you.

- A prospect?
- Well, don't get your hopes up.

I spoke to a client of mine,

and he's building a
house at the beach,

and I recommended your property.

Wonderful.

Oh, and if you close the deal,

I'll give you the
customary 2% commission.

Don't you mean the
customary 5% commission?

Well, it's 5% when you're
dealing with strangers,

but since you and I
are friends, Wilbur...

Just call me Mr. Post.

[Kay] Oh, Addison.

Now, remember, you don't
know where I am, Mr. Post.

Oh, Wilbur, Wilbur,
my pal Wilbur.

[Kay] Hi, Wilbur.

Oh, Addison?

Addison,

come with me. I want you
to meet some new people.

They're just darling.

This is my husband Mr. Addison.

- Hi, daddy-o.
- How do you do, sir?

And our neighbor, Mr. Post.

- How do you do?
- Mr. Post.

And this is Buzz Dixon
and Zelma Beasley.

Aren't you a little
early for trick or treat?

Well, that's my husband,
always making little jokes.

Littlest jokes you ever heard.

[laughs]

I got to mail this letter.

This is for you, Mrs.
Addison. I painted it myself.

Oh, thank you, doll.

Oh, what a wonderful
subject. Why, it's, um, unique.

I know just the spot
for it, over my fireplace.

I know a better
spot, in the fireplace.

I'm a very busy man. What is
it you came to see me about?

Well, Mr. Addison, we came
to, like, ask you a big favor.

We'd like to put up
some lean-tos, like,

on your property so we
can make it like an art colony.

Fine, the rent will
be, like, $250 a month.

Gee, we don't have
that kind of money.

Man, we don't have
any kind of money.

Addison, they're not harming
our property in any way.

That's right. We're
not taking any sand,

and the ocean is just
where it always was.

That happens to be a very
exclusive piece of property.

And no one is going to
buy if they find it overrun

by a g*ng of
waterlogged adolescents.

There it is again...

Rejection, rejection, rejection.

[Buzz] Cast out by a
world we didn't make.

You'll be cast out by the
police if you don't get off my lot.

Addison, please.

Aren't you kids being
a little over-dramatic?

I mean, having such a pessimistic
attitude at such a young age.

Oh, we dig
pessimism. We love it.

Would you want to, like,
hear a poem Zelma wrote?

I think I can, like,
resist the temptation.

Uh, we'd like to
hear it, sweetie.

If you'll excuse me.

I call it

"Rejected, Neglected,
Befuddled, Bemuddled."

[Buzz] Oh, it's a gasser.

A nothing. A zero.
A hole in the cheese.

The scene can't be made

when you're in the deep freeze.

Rejected, neglected,
befuddled, bemuddled.

The moment is wild.

We're blown off our course.

That's why our youth
feels extinct like the horse.

[Buzz] Do you dig it, pops?

I'd rather bury it.

You take my advice and vacate
my property by midnight tonight.

Gee, we're holding our
first exhibit tomorrow.

We sent out a lot of postcards.

Do you think you
could talk Mr. Addison

into letting us stay
a few more days?

Oh, I'll try.

I've talked him into letting
me stay for 20 years.

But you're not sure, huh?

Well, I'm afraid I couldn't
promise you anything.

The story of our life.

Rejection, rejection, rejection.

There's no place
for us kids today.

Oh, dear. Come on, kids.

I'll give you a piece
of cake and some milk.

And there's no place
for us horses today.

We're rejected,
neglected, befuddled,

bemuddled.

[sighs]

Ed, what's going on here?

Just call me Ed the beachcomber.

What started all this?

Those kids that
were here yesterday?

Yep, we're birds of a feather.

Rejected, neglected,
befuddled, bemuddled.

Oh, what do you
know? A beatnik horse.

[chuckles]

What got you started on
this painting kick anyway?

It's therapy to relieve
my depression.

Hmm. Well, let's
have a look here, huh?

Yeah, that's... that's
depressing, all right.

What is it supposed to be?

I'm calling it "The
Horseless Headman."

"The Horseless Headman"?

That's right.

The whole world is going
to be horseless soon.

Ed, look, I keep telling
you that's just an editorial.

Ed, there will be a place
in this world for horses

if I have to make it myself.

I'm real down, b*at,
like, depressed.

Neglected, rejected,
befuddled, bemuddled.

I can see you need a
little bit of cheering up, Ed.

Come on. Let's just
put these things away.

I'll take you for a
nice ride in the park.

Fresh air will do you a world
of good. What do you say, Ed?

Poem... "Ode the Life."

Life is a feedbag
without any oats.

A stable that's empty and bare.

I search for the hay
in an empty corral,

but how can I find
what's not there?

[chuckles]

Henry Horseworth Longfellow.

I can tell by your attitude
you're in no mood for a ride,

so I'll come back when
you're feeling better.

That's right. Reject me.

I am not rejecting you.

Yeah, holler,
but, like, don't hit.

I'm, like, not hollering.

I just expect you to act
like a normal, human horse.

[Ed groans]

I don't have to stay
where I'm not wanted.

I belong with the outcasts.

Where's my hat?

Hey, thanks a lot.

Yeah.

Thanks, pal.

Hey, where did he come from?

I don't know, but he
sure looks, like, way out.

What's the matter,
fella? Are you lost?

I'd love to get him on canvas.

He'd make a great subject.

Aw, you couldn't
get him to pose.

Man, he's crazy.

Say, man, I think
that horse reads us.

Boy, you said it, daddy-o.

Put it back, Addison.

Kay, you know
this is a monstrosity.

Oh, no, it isn't.
It's a form of art.

So is a shrunken head,
but not in my living room.

Uh, would you rather have

my mother's picture back there?

I'd rather have a shrunken head.

Hey, where did you
get my old ukulele?

Oh, I found it up in the attic

when I went up to
get that picture frame.

Remember the last
time you played it?

The last... Oh, golly,
I don't know. Gee.

Boy, I know I was just a kid.

We were both kids.

Used to play it at the
beach, remember?

Hmm.

Ah, those were the days.

Hmm. Remember how
you and Freddie Dawson

used to fight about who should
rub the suntan oil on my back?

Mm-hmm.

You wound up being the
slipperiest girl on the beach.

You always managed
to get a good grip.

Yeah.

I was kind of a wolf, wasn't I?

Right down to your
big, pointed earlobes.

Oh, you used to call
me Legs McCarthy.

Mmm.

Remember how we used
to sit around the campfire,

our whole g*ng, trying to
solve the world's problems?

Hmm. We couldn't
even solve our own.

Your father wanted
you to be a doctor,

and you wanted... What
did you want to be, doll?

Nothing.

I just wanted to lie around
the beach and rub your back.

Know what you were, angel?

Just a teenage rebel.

Rebel?

I was the whole
Confederate Army.

I guess every generation of kids

feels rebellious
and misunderstood.

Yeah, I guess so.

Like those kids on
our beach property?

You're pretty foxy, aren't you?

All right, until I
sell the property,

the kids can stay.

Oh, thank you, doll.

You're just a big,
fluffy, old honey bunny.

Yeah, I guess that's
what I am, aren't I?

Kay, remember this?

♪ Daisy, Daisy ♪

♪ Give me your answer do ♪

♪ I'm half crazy ♪

♪ All for the love of you ♪

♪ It won't be a
stylish marriage ♪

♪ I can't afford a... ♪

[doorbell rings]

I'll get it, Legs.

Wilbur, my boy,
come in. Come in, boy.

Kay and I were just recalling
some of the old songs.

Would you like to
sing along with us?

No, thanks, Mitch.

Rog.

Actually, I don't feel
much like singing

because, see, I just got some
bad news in a business deal.

Forget about business,
Wilbur. It's only money.

What could be so important?

Well, the client I had
for your beach property

just backed out of the deal.

I'll k*ll myself.

Rog, wait a minute.

Like you said, it's only money.

Only money? What
do you think I live for?

Well, why did he
back out, Wilbur?

It's, uh... It's
those beach kids.

You see, now that they've
made the place a hangout,

he figures they may
keep coming back.

I'm going down to drive
those parasites off my property

lock, stock, and sunglasses.

Relax, Rog.

Um, why don't we sing
some more of the old songs?

Out of my way, Legs.

Not bad, Zelma, but I
don't get the message.

It lacks, uh, vagueness.

There's something
missing, like, you know.

Hey, man, that horse gave
the picture what it needed,

clouds.

Or depression.

- Misery.
- Defeat.

Despair.

All right, young man.

Oh, hi, Mr. Addison.

Hey, here's the
owner of this property.

Get a sh*t of him.

Never mind that.

Hello, sir. I'm with
the Valley Globe.

Are you the owner
of this property?

That's right.

Well, sir, you should
be proud of yourself.

The kids here would be
right back out in the streets

if it weren't for
people like you.

How do you spell your name, sir?

Roger Addison. A-D-D-I-S-O-N.

A-D-D-I-S-O-N. Got it.

Now, Mr. Addison, have you
always been interested in youth work?

Youth... Oh, yes, indeed I have.

Yes, indeed.

The welfare of our teenagers

has always been a very
deep concern of mine.

That is why I have
dedicated myself

to making them feel
wanted, needed, appreciated.

You're not writing.

Oh.

It is my firm conviction

that our youth needs
love and understanding.

These boys and girls have
been neglected much too long.

Rejected much too long.

Befuddled much too long.

You've been out in
the sun much too long.

Come on, Rog.
I'll take you home.

Wilbur, please, I'm
talking to the press.

Can't you see?

Now, then,

to help them overcome
this feeling of rejection,

I try to give them a
feeling of accomplishment

by encouraging
their art endeavors.

As a matter of fact, I have one of
their paintings hanging over my fireplace

replacing a portrait of
my beloved mother-in-law.

Hey, that pretty good.

That fruit looks almost
good enough to eat.

That isn't fruit,
man. That's a horse.

A horse?

Yeah, a palomino.

With big, dark glasses
and a floppy straw hat?

Yeah, man. How did you guess?

Oh, well, if I were a horse,

I wouldn't dress any other way.

Which way did he go?

Over there some place.

Thank you very much.

A kook.

Ed, what are you doing out here?

I don't like you running away
from home. Why did you do it?

I'm extinct, Wilbur. Useless.

Ed, remember this...

Anyone who is loved
is never useless.

Well, then you
really love me, huh?

Well, of course.

Ed, you're like my own kid.

[laughs]

Then take me home, Daddy.

[laughs]

Let's go, Ed.

[grunts]

Oh.

Oh, boy, just look
at all this sand.

Now hold still. I want to
get the dirt off your coat.

Oh, forget it, Wilbur.

Let's send it to the cleaners.

You're in a pretty good
mood now, aren't you?

Yep.

Glad you got over
that rejection business.

Well, I'd look pretty silly

lying on a psychiatrist's couch.

Now, Ed, I want
you to promise me

that you won't run
away from home again.

Uh, you want to hear a
little poem I just made up?

Okay.

[clears throat]

Uh, life is a feedbag
overflowing with oats.

A bag that should never be shut.

And a horse that would
leave a sweet guy like you

must be some kind of a nut.

[both laugh]

You like it?

Oh, it's all right.

[both laugh]

To the left and higher.

Higher.

♪ A horse is a horse,
of course, of course ♪

♪ And no one can talk
to a horse, of course ♪

♪ That is, of course,
unless the horse ♪

♪ Is the famous Mister Ed ♪

♪ Go right to the source
and ask the horse ♪

♪ He'll give you the answer ♪

♪ That you'll endorse ♪

♪ He's always on
a steady course ♪

♪ Talk to Mister Ed ♪

♪ People yakkity-yak a streak ♪

♪ And waste your time of day ♪

♪ But Mister Ed
will never speak ♪

♪ Unless he has
something to say ♪

♪ A horse is a horse,
of course, of course ♪

♪ And this one will talk
till his voice is hoarse ♪

♪ You never heard
of a talking horse? ♪

♪ Well, listen to this ♪

[Mister Ed] ♪ I am Mister Ed ♪