06x05 - Drafted

[bunniefuu]

♪ Now the world don't move
to the b*at of just one drum

♪ What might be right for
you may not be right for some

♪ A man is born,
he's a man of means

♪ Then along come two,
they got nothin' but their jeans

♪ But they got Diff'rent Strokes

♪ It takes Diff'rent Strokes

♪ It takes Diff'rent
Strokes to move the world

♪ Everybody's got
a special kind of story

♪ Everybody finds a way to shine

♪ It don't matter
that you got not a lot

♪ So what

♪ They'll have theirs,
and you'll have yours

♪ And I'll have mine

♪ And together we'll be fine

♪ Cause it takes Diff'rent
Strokes to move the world

♪ Yes it does

♪ It takes Diff'rent
Strokes to move the world

- Hi, everybody, the
loved one is home.

Hi, how are you doing?

- The mailman's here, too.

Pearl, I got one for you.

- Good.

Oh, listen to this.

"You may already have won a
Rolls Royce, a condo in Hawaii,

"a 40-foot yacht,
or a turkey baster."

- Does it really
say that, Pearl?

- Yeah.

And I really need
a turkey baster.

With my luck, I'll probably
win the Rolls Royce.

- Hey, I don't believe this.

This is too much.

- What is it, Dad?

- It's a postcard for you
from the Selective Service.

- For me?

- Yeah.

"Dear Mr. Arnold Jackson.

"This card is only a reminder.

"Available records
show your date of birth is

"December 5th, 1965.

"18 year old males must
register with Selective Service

"within 30 days of
their 18th birthday."

- What is that supposed to mean?

- It means they think you're
18, and they want to draft you.

- What you talkin'
about, Willis?

♪ You're in the Army
now, da da da da da-dum

♪ You'll never get
rich, you da da da da

♪ You're in the Army now

- Okay you two, at ease.

- Dad, why would they
want somebody like me?

Why don't they draft some loser

who has nothing going
for them, like Willis?

- Arnold, there's no draft now.

Besides, you're a long,
long way from being 18,

which is what makes
it seem so funny.

- Welcome back, joggers.

How was it?

- Wonderful.

- It's terrible, Pearl.
- Horrible.

- I'm dying.

- I'm going to have to
find a younger crowd.

This g*ng can't keep up with me.

- I gotta admit, Dad,
you're in great shape.

- Yeah, you're
really spry for a guy

in the twilight of his years.

- Thank you.

I'm sure the folks
at the rest home

will be very proud of me.

- You're a real inspiration
to all of us, Daddy.

- I'll say, Mr. Drummond.

You make me feel like going
out and running 10 miles.

- Don't overdo it, Pearl.

- You're right.

I'll take a nap instead.

- Hey, what's this?

More mail for Arnold from
the Selective Service System.

- Huh?

- I think it's the same kind
of thing he got last time.

- Hey, maybe they got
that whole drafted thing

straightened out, Dad.

- Probably.

Let's see.

"Dear sir,

"Federal law requires
that a man born on

"or after January 1st,
1960 is required to register

"with the Selective
Service within 30 days

"of his 18th birthday.

"As a result of a computer
match of government records,

"you have been identified

"as a potential Selective
Service registrant.

"Our registrant files do
not contain your name.

"Willful failure to
register is punishable

"by up to five
years in prison and

"or $10,000 fine."

This is ridiculous.

- Man. I'm in trouble.

- Arnold, you have
nothing to worry about.

- Are you kidding?

If I go to the
slammer for five years,

I'll get out just in time
to really get drafted.

- I'll take care
of this right now.

Hello, may I please have the
number for the Manhattan branch

of the Selective Service office?

Thank you.

- Arnold, honey, they
can't do anything to you.

You're only a kid.

- Joan of Arc was just a kid

and they b*rned
her at the stake.

- Thank you, Willis.

I don't know what
I'd do without you,

but I'd sure like
to give it a try.

- What?

There is no local
Selective Service office?

Thank you.

- What're we going
to do now, Dad?

- Arnold, get dressed.

We are going to go down
to the Federal Building.

There must be somebody
there who can help us

with this bureaucratic bungling.

When they see Arnold, they'll
see how ridiculous this is.

- Right.

I want to serve my country,

but right now I'm
just half a serving.

- Excuse me.

- Yes, what is it?

- My name's Phillip Drummond.

Can I talk to you
about this letter?

It's totally absurd.

- Well, now that you've
interrupted my train of thought.

What's so absurd?

- My son received this
notice to register for the draft.

Draft.

Sorry, that's not my department.

This is the Data
Management Center.

- I understand, but
they told us downstairs

that you might be able to help.

As you can see,
he's only 12 years old.

This is your son?

Forgive me.

I fail to see a strong
family resemblance.

- Arnold is adopted.

- Yeah, the stork
didn't bring me.

I was delivered by a taxi.

- Okay, okay, let
me see the letter.

Oh, my.

This is a second notification.

You obviously
disregarded the first one.

That's a no-no.

- I did not disregard
the first one.

I send them an answer.

Obviously, there's a
mistake in the computer.

- Mistake?

- It's gotta be a mistake.

Look at me, I'm living proof.

I was born in 1971.

I oughta know.

I spent the whole day
in the maternity ward.

- Sorry, your word's
not good enough.

- Not good enough?

He's just a child.

- Well, you would be
amazed at some of the stunts

people pull to try to get
out of m*llitary service.

Now, according to regulations,
you need to show me

some legal proof
of your son's age,

like a birth certificate.

- It's in a safety deposit box.

- What about a driver's license?

- A driver's license?

Where's he gonna get a
car with training wheels?

- Look, I am only
trying to help.

Your so-called son
could be an imposter.

- I tell you, I'm me, or
else I've wasted 12 years

brushing someone else's teeth.

- Mr. Drummond,
even if I believed you,

this has to be handled
according to regulations.

- If you believe me?

- I suggest you fill
this out like it says to,

and send it through
the proper channels.

The computer will catch
the mistake sooner or later.

- You can stick your
computer in your ear.

I'm not gonna waste any more
of my valuable time with this.

And as far as this
draft notice goes,

I'll show you.

- Uh-oh, now you've done it.

- Dad, you shouldn't
have done that.

His scalp is starting to twitch.

- You like puzzles?

Put that one together.

And you haven't
heard the end of this.

I'm tired of
cockamamie computers

and all of your red tape.

I have some
influence in this town.

I'm going to call a
press conference.

We're going to fight this thing

if we have to
rot in jail to win.

- Rot in jail?

- Yes, rot in jail.

Come on, Arnold.

- Please keep in mind, sir,
that the opinions expressed

by the father are not
necessarily those of the son.

Arnold!

- Bye.

- Pearl, have you got a second?

Um-hm.

- When I called the media,
I gave them a general idea

of what this is about,
but when they get here,

here's what I want to say.

Ladies and
gentlemen of the press,

I would like to talk to
you today about a system

which supposedly guarantees
liberty and justice for all,

and yet makes a victim
of a 12-year-old boy.

- Oh, Mr. Drummond, you
have such a way with words.

You oughta run for office.

- Thank you, Pearl, but
there are just too many jerks

in politics.

- Oh, there's always
room for one more.

I mean, you know what I mean.

- I better.

I'll get that, Pearl.

That must be the press.

- Is the press conference over?

- No, no, no, no, come
in, come in, come in.

Nice to meet you,
I'm Phillip Drummond.

- Is this all the food?

Pretty chincy.

- Excuse me, Mr.-

- Gordon. Ooh!

- Gordon, yeah.

What newspaper are you with?

- None, I freelance.

- Looks more like freeload.

- That's tactless, Pearl.

Accurate, but tactless.

Listen, Mr. Gordon, if
you don't mind, I'll just wait

until the rest of the press
gets here before I start.

- They're not going to show up.

- Why not?

- Because the
story's not big enough.

Now me, doesn't
make any difference.

No story's too small for me.

- All right, then, I'll
give you the story.

- sh**t.

- Well don't you need
a pad to write on?

- Oh yeah, I have one.

I like to keep my
hands free for the...

But don't worry, I'll
remember everything.

I got a great memory.

- Elephants never forget.

- Excuse me. Arnold!

- Yes, Dad?

- Would you come
down here, please?

Okay.

- One of the reporters is here.

- All right.

- This is Arnold.

He's the one that
got the draft notice.

- Hi.

I'm his son, the draft dodger.

- You look like a good
draft could blow you away.

- Oh, excuse me please.

That's probably
the rest of the press.

- Are you Phillip Drummond?

- That's right.

Come in, come in, come in.

You're just in time.

I appreciate your coming.

I'd like to offer you
some refreshments

we have right over here.

- No, thank you.

- Uh, I'll take one.

- Good.

Now, who're you gentlemen with,

the Times, the Post, the News?

- The FBI.

- Dad, we must be in a lot
of trouble if the FBI is here.

- Now don't worry, Arnold.

I've handled it
so far, haven't I?

- That's what's got me worried.

- As a matter of fact,
I am rather curious.

What brings the FBI to see me?

- We had a call about
you, Mr. Drummond

from Mr. Cribbs at
the Federal Building.

- Oh, him.

What'd he tell you,
that I was trying

to overthrow the government?

- Hey, this is
getting interesting.

Does anybody have a camera?

- They have great ones in Japan.

I'll send you a
postcard from Tokyo.

- Arnold.

- We're here just to give
you a friendly reminder

about the consequences
of not allowing your son

to register for the draft.

- All right, I'll ask
you your opinion.

Would you let him register?

This is my son.

- You wouldn't want a
guy like me in the Army.

The class wimp beats me up.

And she's not that tough.

- Well, we had no idea.

There's obviously
been a mistake.

- We're sorry to bother
you, Mr. Drummond.

- Oh, that's all right.

Would you like
your doughnut back?

- Thank you.

- How 'bout you?

- No thanks, I'm driving.

- Hope you catch all those
guys on the Post Office walls.

And I hope I'm not one of them.

- Good evening, gentlemen.

- Good evening.

- Well, I'll be going, too,

unless you're sure you're
not holding out on me.

- No, that's the whole story.

- I meant food.

- I'll see you.

- Dad, why don't we just
go along with the system

and sign me up?

- Arnold, we are going to win

without compromising
our principles.

As one great American once said,

"I have not yet begun to fight."

Do you know who said that?

- I hope it wasn't
General Custer.

- 91, 92, 93,

94, 95,

96, 97, 98,

99, 100.

Oh, man, really makes
you feel good, Arnold.

Dig it, Willis the Barbarian.

Eat your heart out,
Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Aw come on, Arnold,
man, cheer up.

I know this whole
thing's got you upset,

but it'll work out.

- It's easy for you to say.

- Come on now, put the
Army out of your mind

and get some sleep.

- Okay, I'll close my eyes
and try counting Jeeps.

- You've been watching
too many w*r pictures.

- Where am I?

- You're in the Army.

Outta bed on the double.

Hut, hut, hut, hut!

- Mr. Cribbs.

- Corporal Cribbs to you.

On your feet, Private.

- Wait a minute.

There's gotta be a big mistake.

- The Army doesn't
make mistakes.

That's why we have a Navy.

- But I'm not
supposed to be here.

I'm a civilian.

- Not anymore you're not.

Here's your helmet, soldier.

- None of these things fit.

- Ten hut!

- Morning, Corporal.

Who's under the helmet?

- A new recruit,
Private Jackson,

ready for drill instruction.

- I'll take over from here.

- Yes sir!

- Off with the helmet, Jackson.

- Yes sir!

Oh, Willis, it's so good
to see a familiar face.

- That's Sergeant
Willis to you, soldier.

- Willis, this is me,

your brother, Arnold.

I was right there
when you bought

your first tube of Clearasil.

- Now don't you go gettin'
personal with me, turkey.

Now hit the deck and give me 10.

- All I got is 35 cents.

- I was talkin' pushups, sucker.

Now hit the deck!

- Hitting the deck, sir!

Would you take
one and an I.O.U.?

- Do you call
yourself a soldier?

On your feet, solder!

Come on, get up, up, up, up!

Look in the mirror.

Tell me what you see.

- Uh, two soldiers?

- Wrong.

One soldier, and one spineless,
sniveling, pathetic excuse

for a human being.

- Sergeant, don't be
so hard on yourself.

- I was talking
about you, pea-brain.

And don't eyeball me, Private!

Remember, I'm the
boss around here, got it?

When I tell you to
jump, what do you do?

- I jump.

- When I tell you to
crawl, what do you do?

- I crawl.

- When I tell you to
march right into enemy fire,

what do you do?

- I hide in my footlocker.

- You're hopeless.

- Thank you, sir.

Can I go home now?

- You're not going
anywhere, worm.

It's time for r*fle drill.

All right, the rest of you
worms in the barracks, fall in.

Come on, move
it, move it, let's go!

Line up, move it, move it,
move it, move it, move it!

Come on, move it!

All right, don't eyeball,
don't look at me.

Here's your r*fle, soldier.

All right, come on.

Ten hut!

Right shoulder, arms!

Left shoulder, arms!

Present arms!

- Can't you slow down?

I'm running out of arms.

- Ten hut!

Order arms!

Morning, General.

The troops are ready
for inspection, sir.

- Thank you, Sergeant.

Carry on.

- Yes, sir!

- Wait a minute.

Why wasn't this man issued legs?

- It's me, Dad.

- Don't Dad me, Private.

Now I want one brave man
to risk his life for his country

against overwhelming odds.

All volunteers take
one step forward.

I'm proud of you, soldier.

- Wait a minute.

- Command platoon, left face!

Quick march!

Hup, hup, hup, hup, hup, hup,
hup, hup, hup, hup, hup, hup

We're going to make a
man of you, a hero like me.

See these ribbons on my chest?

- Yes, sir.

- I got these for
outstanding bravery.

I got this one for sending
100 men with r*fles

against 100 tanks with cannons.

I got this one for sending
60 men into the face

of enemy fire knowing they
would never come back alive.

That is, I knew
what they didn't.

I've suffered for my soldiers,

got headaches you
wouldn't believe.

- Excuse me, General.

- Yes.

- w*r is being served.

- Thank you, Wack.

How's the morale of the men?

- Doing everything
I can to keep it up.

- Very good, Wack.

Carry on.

- Yes, sir, as long
as I have my strength.

But w*r is heck.

- All right, soldier.

I want you to go out
there and act like a man.

You're going to
face hopeless odds

without one quiver of fear.

- But General, sir, I'm only 12.

I'm too young to die.

- Don't be silly, that's
just the right age.

Have you had your sh*ts?

- sh*ts?

- Yes, I like all my men
to die in good health.

Nurse!

- Nurse Kimberly reporting, sir!

- Oh, thank goodness
it's you, Kimberly.

Please tell General Dad
he's making a big mistake.

- The Army doesn't
make mistakes, soldier.

It says so in the regulations.

- Nurse, this recruit
needs his sh*ts.

- Oh good.

This is the part I like.

- Wait a minute.

Where do you think
you're going to stick that?

- I'll show you.

Drop 'em and bend over.

- Uh, look, you're not going
to stick that four quart needle

into my two quart butt.

Wait, wait, can
we talk about this?

Wait, wait, please!

Help! Help!

Somebody help me!

Don't touch me!

Get away!

No, no, don't touch me!

No, no!

- Arnold, Arnold, wake up!

Arnold, wake up.

- Huh? What?

- Arnold, you were
having a bad dream.

- Oh, Willis, you
don't know how bad.

- What's happening?

Arnold, are you all right?

- What's going on in here?

- Arnold was having a nightmare.

- Oh, Dad, it was awful.

I was in the Army, and
there was this big w*r,

and you were coming
on like General Patton,

and you were going to
send me off to get k*lled.

- Oh, Arnold, it
was only a dream.

- But it was so real.

Dad, I don't want you
to give up your principles,

but I'm scared.

Can't we just surrender?

- I'm sorry, son.

I didn't know that all of this
was affecting you so deeply.

I guess I was so
wrapped up in the battle

I forgot to pay
attention to the troops.

Why don't we go back
and see Mr. Cribbs

and see where we
can get the papers

that we have to fill out?

- Can we, Dad?

- Sure, you bet.

- Oh, thank you, Dad.

You saved my life.

- That's okay, soldier.

And then afterwards, maybe
we'll go down to the USO

and celebrate, pick
up a couple of dames.

- Ah, Mr. Drummond, I
was going to phone you

just as soon as I finished
this crossword puzzle.

So good to see you and
your delightful little boy.

Welcome, welcome, welcome.

- He must've had a
personality transplant.

- There's no need to try
to psych us out, Mr. Cribbs.

We surrender.

I have here Arnold's
birth certificate,

his adoption papers,
and if you'll just tell us

where to get the proper
forms, we'll sign them.

- If it'll help, we'll even
whistle Yankee Doodle Dandy.

No, that won't be necessary.

I have some good news for you.

- I'm going to be
stationed at DisneyLand?

- No, I mean
you're off the hook.

You were so persistent,
Mr. Drummond,

that I decided to check
it out with Washington.

Indeed, there was
another Arnold Jackson

right here in Manhattan.

So I decided to chase him down

with my wonderful
little computer.

- I can't believe it.

- I can assure you, you
can put your complete trust

in the world of
computer science.

- Excuse me, I was told I
could find Mr. Cribbs here.

- Yes, I am Mr. Cribbs.

- You said you wanted to
see me about registering

for the draft.

My name's Arnold Jackson.

♪ Now the world don't move
to the b*at of just one drum

♪ What might be right for you

♪ May not be right for some

♪ A man is born,
he's a man of means

♪ Then along come two,
they got nothing but their jeans

♪ But they got Diff'rent Strokes

♪ It takes Diff'rent Strokes

♪ It takes Diff'rent
Strokes to move the world

♪ Yes it does

♪ It takes Diff'rent
Strokes to move the world