Do you, Peggy Wanker,
take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?
I do.
And do you, Mel Gibson, take Peggy Wanker--
Oh, he does.
He does, he does.
Peg, you'll never guess what happened
at the shoe store today.
Tongue caught in the shoe sizer again?
You civilians never realize
what a highly sophisticated piece of equipment that is.
All right. Tell me what happened.
Well, you know that new aerobics center up above me?
The one with the sign, quarter ton discount?
Well, today they played Van Halen's "Jump."
And damned if the whole herd didn't.
It was awful, Peg.
The ceiling opened up,
down they came, blocking out the sun.
I experienced cellulite winter.
God, the "humongity."
Peg, I could have been killed.
Well,
I think you got what you deserved,
going by there every morning,
yelling "is that a Milky Way on the floor?"
Hey, hey, hey.
I was helping.
They lost a lot more weight
wrestling with each other for that imaginary candy
than they did twisting
to Hammer's "Please Don't Hurt Me."
But, now, on to the sadder side of the news.
The shoe store decided to lay me off
while they fix the ceiling.
And as an added bonus,
as long as the store is closed,
I don't get paid.
Oh, my God.
Can the economy stand the hit?
Do you think that you can?
Anyway, don't worry.
I told 'em that I might not be there
when they call me back.
And what did they say?
They said that they'd--
They'd take that gamble.
Oh, hi, kids.
I'm afraid I have some bad news.
I'm afraid the wacky, luxurious lifestyle
we've become accustomed to is no longer.
The Bundys of Bel Air are no more.
Yes, Daddy's been laid off.
Well, we won't lose Tara, will we?
Oh, Al.
Surely you can see the humor in a man who makes no money
saying he lost his job.
Yeah, I mean, come on, Dad.
That's like Kelly saying she lost her mind.
I don't get it.
Well, at least this time it's not just us.
Everybody's feeling the pinch of this recession.
Money's tight all over.
Come see our matching BMWs.
Well,
they're not exactly matching.
My license plate says "Love her."
And mine says "Love him."
Al, why don't you get a license plate
that tells the world how you feel?
Because "kill me" was taken by your father.
Uh, excuse me,
but if only to if only to rub this in my father's face,
can you tell us how you can afford
two major cars like those?
Well, as anyone with a little bit of business savvy knows,
these are the times that make millionaires.
And paupers.
Anyway, I-- I can't go into details,
but through a little inside tip in the stock market,
I'd say I made a penny or two.
You made $60,000, you little honey puddle.
I did not. Did too.
Did not. Did too.
All right.
I did.
Oh, yeah?
Well, my Al here made a penny or two.
Literally.
Of course, his is coming from unemployment
because he's lost his job.
So do you think you could loan us a couple of bucks?
You know, just enough to keep that Mary Kay lady
from breaking my kneecaps.
I can do better than that.
For as a wise man once said,
if you want a man to eat, you don't hand him a fish.
You teach him to be a fisherman.
So, what do you say, Al?
You wanna come down to my club
and bus tables on fish night?
It doesn't pay much, but no one will be looking
if you want to take a little butter
back to the wife and kids.
Daddy, please, please? Please, please, Dad.
Get away from me, you pride-less vermin!
I was not born to be a bus boy.
I'm a shoe man, born and bred, damn it.
And there's not a shoe store in this town
that wouldn't pay a dollar and a quarter an hour
to have the best.
You hear my words.
I will not let my family starve.
I will not.
We're already starving.
Listen, Dad.
There's something at the school
that you just might be qualified for.
What? Principal?
Vice principal? Dean of boys?
Well, security guard's not too bad.
Got a cool uniform.
A sense of independence, little stick.
Let all wrongdoers beware.
Those who would perpetrate evil, must answer to me.
Al Bundy,
security dude.
Oh, God,
this can't be happening to me!
Can this be true?
Am I not a man I laughed at as a child?
Hi, Dad.
Oh. Hi, son.
It's not the way it looks. I was just, uh,
crying on the floor.
Yeah, Dad, I know.
Thought we were going to a club.
And remember our deal.
We go, you pay.
If I don't find anybody cool,
I'll come sit next to you for a while.
Dad, this girl really likes me.
Can I have some money?
Son, I know you see the uniform,
and you think, uh, another millionaire
working school security for kicks.
But, uh,
once I wore a different uniform.
A prouder uniform.
Once, I roamed these halls like a king.
Dad, please.
Look at that trophy over there, son.
Polk High, city championship, 1966.
I won that baby.
I still remember the day.
Not the story.
It was the last game of the year.
Polk High versus Andrew Johnson High.
Two great teams of equal strength.
Dad, she's not wearing a bra.
Finally, we met on the field of battle.
Came down to two great players.
Yours truly,
and a guy from Andrew Johnson High they called "Spare Tire."
Why, because he was fat?
No. Because he wore one with a chain around his neck.
Anyhow,
finally, it came down to the final seconds.
Scoreless game.
We had the ball on the 6-yard line.
They said, "Give the ball to Bundy."
Everyone knew I was getting it.
Hut one!
Hut two!
I got the ball, and I went through that line
like Grandma through a herd of cattle.
I was going for a sure six--
when all of a sudden, on the 1-yard line,
loomed Spare Tire, waiting for me.
We collided like two bull elephants.
When it was over,
they were shouting only one elephant's name.
Al Bundy.
I scored, son.
The winning touchdown!
Son...
that's the story
of the greatest sport moment in all of history.
You know, Dad,
some say your knee was down before you crossed--
My knee was not down!
That's a dirty, stinking lie!
The victory was ours.
For the school, the championship.
For me?
All-city.
And the legend.
And your mother.
The end.
Oh, God!
You know, when my dad got like that,
we shot him.
You thought he was my father?
Heck, no, Dad's his name.
You know, like, uh, Pops the janitor?
Dad the security guard?
I'm telling you, h- he's not my father.
Does the term "sympathy feel" mean anything to you?
Oh, what the hell.
All is well.
Oh, I guess it's time for a little...
security-guard break.
* I'm a travelin' man *
* Made a lot of stops *
* All over the world *
* And in every port, I *
* Meet one lovely girl *
Yeah, this john ain't so bad.
* All but one man died *
* There at Bitter Creek *
* And they say he ran away *
* Branded! *
* Scorned is the one who ran *
* What do you do when you're branded *
* And you know you're a man? *
* Wherever you go *
* For the rest of your life *
* You must prove *
* You're a man *
Gee, honey.
Think you might change your shirt today?
Why bother?
What can I do when I'm branded,
and I know I'm a man?
I must find my bowl.
Oh, honey, you do the best you can.
It's just that it's dark at night,
and you get groggy, and--
Not that bowl,
you whinnying ninny of a woman.
My championship bowl.
If only I had a clue.
Get that, will you, Peg?
Gee, Al.
It's a note.
"If you want the trophy,
"come to Johnson High at 8 tonight.
"Alone, or the trophy dies.
P.S. You stink."
Gee, honey, this must be someone who knows you.
Peg, this sounds like the clue I'm looking for.
This man sounds like he knows something.
I'm going after him, Peg.
I might not be coming back.
Oh, honey,
please come back.
You're worried about me, aren't you, babe?
'Course, I'm worried.
Tomorrow's garbage day.
I'm not getting up early to lug it out.
You.
Spare Tire Dixon.
Why'd you do it?
Why'd you steal my trophy?
I took it because it belongs to me.
That was our championship.
You never made it past that goal line.
I dropped you like third-period French.
Your knee was down.
Was not! Was too!
Not! Too!
Wait a second, what were we talking about?
Um...
Let's see, I didn't get no dinner.
Took the bus. And I had come through the door.
Damn kids took the car. Ran out of gas.
Oh, yeah.
Trophy!
The trophy you cheated me out of.
Should've been mine, Bundy.
Headline should've read,
"Spare Tire crushes unidentified white man at goal line."
I was supposed to play college ball.
But it never happened.
You know why?
You're too stupid?
No.
It was because after that game,
I fell into a deep depression.
And I turned where too many kids before me
turned to drown their sorrows...
pie.
Come tryouts,
I could no longer get in a three-point stance
unless there was a pie on the floor.
My career was over.
You stole the glory that should have been mine.
I had a little bit of glory, yeah, but you had pie.
And I haven't eaten in 19 years.
I'd give you that trophy right now for a piece of pie.
So pardon me if I don't cry for you, Argentina.
But I sell women's shoes, and I'm married.
Oh, yeah?
Well, I'll bet your mother-in-law
doesn't look like this.
No. My mother-in-law looks like this.
Okay, okay.
Let's talk quality of life.
Let's talk my best pair of socks.
Nice try, Spare Tire.
But get a gander at my best socks.
Whoa!
Now...
step aside.
'Cause I'm taking that trophy back where it belongs.
To Polk High.
And not for me, but for the children.
So they can look at that trophy
and know that they too can peak at 17.
Gimme my trophy.
You want that trophy?
Well, here's how you can get it.
There's the line, Bundy.
The only way you're taking this trophy
is by getting past me.
Come on, Bundy.
On the count of three.
Three.
Let's rock.
Nice run, Bundy.
Nice-- Nice hit, Spare Tire.
We were two pretty good athletes back then, weren't we?
Hey, we're still great athletes!
I'm hurt real bad, you know.
Me too.
I can't get up.
Me neither.
Sleepy time now?
Oh, yes.