All right, honey.
Now, let's try a little bit harder word.
How about "dog"?
Come on, honey, I know you can do it.
Okay.
D.
O? Okay.
"Og."
Dog.
G.
G? Well, why don't you finish the rest?
"Gee, she's stupid."
Let's see you finish the word, smarty-pants.
Oh, "dog."
Like in "dogmatic."
Oh, of course.
Hey, Kel. You look kind of puzzled. Someone ask you to spell "dog"?
Oh, my God, they did.
Let me see what we got in the mail.
Bills, bills, bills.
Letter from Al's mother.
Bills, bills.
Here, honey, go play with these.
Now, this is what I've been waiting for.
Bud's invitation to the Oldest Virgins in America Club?
No. It's a letter from the Board of Education.
An application to send little Seven to school.
Oh, cool. I can help him with his studies...
...because I be a high school graduate.
Yes, honey, and we be very proud of you.
Actually, I requested this...
...because just the other day, I saw the school bus go by...
...and I felt what every mother feels deep inside:
Those bus drivers are getting younger and cuter every year.
So while I was taking my oh-so-cold shower...
...I thought, "Gee, maybe I should just send Seven to school."
Let's see here.
"Age."
Thirty...
Twenty-eight.
Mom? I think they mean Seven's age.
I thought they'd want mine on here for the traditional...
..."mommy takes bus driver to dinner, dancing and Jacuzzi" interlude.
Come here, honey.
When's your birthday, Seven?
I don't know.
Well, didn't you ever have a birthday party?
No.
Well, we're gonna fix that right now...
...because I want you to have birthdays, schooling...
...vaccinations, friends, a future.
Everything the authorities wanted Kelly and Bud to have.
So we're gonna pick you out a birthday and then have a party.
Now, it has to be a very special day that no one else celebrates.
Let's see. How about January 22nd?
That's my birthday, Mom.
Really?
Oh, well. Okay. November 27th.
That's mine.
Really?
Well, this is hard.
How about December 25th?
Mom, that's Christmas.
Yeah, but at least it's nobody's birthday.
What?
All right. How about tomorrow?
- Nothing is happening tomorrow. - I don't think so.
Okay. That settles it.
Tomorrow is Seven's birthday.
Hi, honey. Do you know what tomorrow is?
Well, yes.
Yes, I do.
And I can't believe that after all these years...
...you remembered my birthday.
Was that your birthday?
Well, it's not your birthday anymore. I just gave it to Seven.
What about me?
Al, every night you go to bed whining, "I wanna die, I wanna die."
And now, all of a sudden, you want more birthdays?
Oh, honey. All right.
I'll give you the dog's birthday.
You seem to age about seven years every year anyway.
I... I want a human birthday.
Well, then you'll just have to get on your hind legs and beg for it.
Seven, as part of your birthday presents...
...you can have whatever you want out of Kelly and Bud's rooms.
Oh, boy!
Well, Kel, there goes those art photos you took...
...for Stupid Girls in Chains magazine.
Oh, yeah? Well, you can say goodbye to your "so lifelike...
...you can take her home to meet Mom" rubber playmate.
Isis!
Oh, God! Call 911 fast!
She's running out of air!
Oh, the horror, the horror!
Well, there go your dreams of ever having any rubber grandchildren.
Hey, look at these pictures.
Gotta go.
You know, Al, I really think we ought to have some more kids.
I think we could get it right one of these days.
Peg, at my age, I couldn't get it right if I was with somebody I wanted.
All right, McGrumpy.
I know you're a little down about this birthday thing...
...and I know I have no power to get you back up again.
Oh, snookums.
Come on, Al.
If anybody really cared about your birthday, what would you have wanted?
Isis. When she was healthy.
Peggy, could you settle an argument for us?
If someone was eyeing Al, drooling for his body, would you be mad?
You know, curiously enough, that happens every day.
I just shoo those buzzards away with my broom.
Then I say, "I don't care what it smells like, he's not dead yet."
Look, I... I can't help it if women want me.
I mean, what am I supposed to do?
Stop getting my hair done and looking killer?
Well, you could stop swinging your buttocks like a common trollop...
...your wedding ring hidden in your pants...
...with that roll of socks.
Yeah. Nature's socks, baby.
Let me help out here.
If you're worried about Jefferson succumbing to another woman...
...let me put your mind at ease.
He will always be true to you because, after all...
...why go out for milk when you got two tiny, empty pints at home?
And why go out for hot dogs...
...when you've got a tiny little cocktail frank at home?
Attached to the whole pig.
I don't go over to her house and insult her.
Gee, what's the matter with him?
Well, he's a shoe salesman.
And he's losing his hair.
And he wouldn't know a shower if he fell over it.
And he has this horrible rash on his butt.
Not that. I mean, why is he so sad?
Do you really care?
- No. - Actually, tomorrow's Seven's birthday.
Where's a good place to have a party?
We generally like to be someplace where we can...
...toss our garbage on the floor and not worry about picking it up.
Yes, but rather than having it here...
...why not do something grand and well within your budget...
...and have it in a public park?
Yeah. A lot of women like to look at me there.
And here...
...and here...
...and here.
Of course. When you flaunt the line of your leopard underwear...
...through your far-too-thin pants...
...you're begging for it, mister.
And someday, some big woman's gonna give it to you hard, hard...
...right in the park!
Take me home right now and dance for me.
All right, all right. But this time, don't invite your mom. Okay?
My dancing is an art and not to be cheapened by:
"That's my son-in-law.
Shake your moneymaker over to Mommy."
You always hated my mother.
No, I... I like dollars, damn it, not coins.
I'm not a tollbooth, for God's sakes.
Al, would you ever consider dancing for me?
Only at the end of a rope, baby.
You better get it out of your system...
...because I want only smiles tomorrow at Seven's birthday.
Gee, I hope he's not too disappointed that it's in the park.
The kid is nothing but a stupid hick.
We'll tell him it's Disneyland.
This isn't Disneyland!
Wow, Disneyland!
Oh, and look, plenty of space for parking.
Well, it's time to party.
Who wants a hot dog?
That's good because I got one.
- Me, me. - Me.
Hold it now! Hold it now! You know the rules. You don't call it for it.
You fight for it...
...which is why we Bundys might be maladjusted, but we are strong.
Excuse me. What are you doing here?
Well, between you and me, I'm celebrating my birthday...
...but nobody knows because my wife took it away from me.
Interesting tale. But meaningless.
You see, I rented this entire park for my son Brian's birthday party.
So take your pathetic weenie and go elsewhere.
Does everyone know, Al?
Now, listen here, buddy...
...you cannot buy a public park.
I pay good taxes to support this place.
Al, you haven't paid taxes in years.
And I would feel quite the fool right now if I had.
Look, our party is due to start. Don't make me throw you out bodily.
Peg...
...would you please hold my weenie?
Well, what'll I do with my other four fingers?
All right, Goldfinger. Let's rock.
Don't get Phillip mad. He's a fifth-degree master in kung fu.
Yeah, well, don't get Al mad. He's a fifth-grade spelling bee winner.
Now, look here. I may not be rich...
...or happy...
...but I know this is a public park.
And in a country of the people, by the people and for the people...
...there's gotta be a place set aside for scum like us.
This isn't so bad, kids.
Just because we don't get to use the whole park...
...don't mean we can't have fun.
Bud, go long.
Gee, Dad. Touchdown.
Kelly, extra-point time.
Come on.
Yes! Yes!
This sucks.
No kidding.
Why aren't you people having any fun?
Aren't you tired of only celebrating my birthdays?
You know, that sit-down dinner for 300 of my closest friends at Cafe Poof...
...where the guest of honor, moi...
...gets to eat scrambled eggs off the chests of exotic male dancers.
I didn't invite you?
By the looks of your faces...
...I realize it's because you would only have brought me down.
But let's make this party the best party in the park.
Well, maybe the second-best party.
The rich people hired the Blue Angels.
Hey, look, they're skywriting.
"Happy birthday, Brian.
This is costing your dad $50,000.
And why not? You're the best kid in the whole world.
And we're not just writing that because we're being paid.
We mean it, really.
May God bless you and keep you.
And don't forget, we also do weddings.
Except in April when we're booked for the Peggy Bundy birthday bash."
Hi, boys!
Every kid at school has skywriting.
You don't love me anymore.
Yes, I do, son. Look at this.
Hey, boys and girls.
Hi, Peggy.
Frank, is that you in there?
Hi.
See you in April.
Now, kids, Brian's dad paid me a lot of money...
...to break my leg for Brian on his birthday.
And it hurts real bad.
Come on, kids, it's time for shrimp cocktail.
They're eating shrimp, kids.
That's fish.
Nothing says party like pork.
And I'll do the slicing.
- Hey, now, watch it now! - Give me a piece.
Well, I guess we're a two-hot-dog family now.
Wait a second, now.
Before everybody but me eats...
...let's give thanks.
Dogs are busy today.
Amen.
Dig in.
All right, well, who has the mustard?
Let's see. Salt, pepper, ketchup, condom.
All right.
Now, Seven, I've got dessert for you.
Noogie, noogie, noogie.
Koosh, koosh, koosh.
Yum, yum, yummy!
She never "noogie, noogied" us.
Never "kooshed" us, either.
Well, she "yum, yummed" me once in high school.
And to think, I spelled "dog" for that woman...
...and we're the forgotten ones.
We're the Titos of the Jackson family.
It's unfair.
Nobody asked us if we wanted this stupid kid.
Well, don't feel bad, honey. Nobody asked me if I wanted you two guys.
All I'm saying is I can't believe he's getting Mom's love.
He's not even a real Bundy.
He's no kind of Bundy.
Bundy's a name you earn.
Our emotional scars run so deep, you can almost see them.
Yup, it's a point of pride.
Ever since the day the first Bundy stepped off the Mayflower...
...halfway over.
Never found him, but they recorded his final words:
"Methinks we're here."
Pioneers like that and ourselves, we're the real Bundys.
Why, that kid never suffered any real rejection.
Not until he's heard:
"The service entrance is in back."
Or, "Or not even for 50 bucks."
Yeah, or, "Don't ruin it by talking."
Right. Right.
And until that time, he's just another human being with a future.
Never be a real Bundy.
Oh, kids, look.
Seven's playing piņata with the other kids.
Keep him in here...
...where he belongs.
This birthday stinks. I wanna go home.
Me too. Let's go.
Not just yet.
Excuse me.
What do you think you're doing?
You're not allowed out of the doody area.
Only we're allowed out here.
Read this permit, pal.
Bud, show the man what Bundys think of permits.
You could have saved me a little bit. I didn't get no hot dog, you know?
Anyway, the kid here wants a crack at your piņata.
- Oh, no, no. Wait a minute. Hold on. - And I want one of them burgers.
And I reclaim this park for the people!
And I reclaim this hot dog for the people...
...and this steak for the people.
That's mine! That's it!
Eat hot Gucci, pal.
You know, buddy, it seems your foot is stuck.
I'll give you 100 bucks if you let go.
Take it, Al. Take it.
Nobody gave me a birthday present...
...so I guess I'll give myself one.
Happy birthday, Al.
Come on, kids. Let's kick some rich butt.
You're ruining my party, you baboon.
I'm proud to call that baboon my daddy.
Family meeting!
In the name of Bundys all over the world...
...I declare this party open to the people!
Peg, grab all the food so no one else gets it...
...and grab the presents for Seven.
Dad, did you see Seven slug that kid?
He's a mean little booger.
Yeah, and who knows, he might even prove to be stupid too.
I think he's a real Bundy.
Me too. I declare Seven an official Bundy!
Can I get a unified "Whoa, Bundy"?
Whoa, Bundy!