Mike & Molly s01e13 Episode Script

I'll have the blueberry pancakes, couple of scrambled eggs and a side of sausage.
Good choice.
And for the lady? No food, just a cup of hot tea with lemon.
Oh, are we slimming down for the swimsuit competition? You realize I carry a gun, right? I am from Africa.
The dogs have guns.
- You're not getting a cold, are you? - No, I'm fine.
Just no appetite.
No, you're getting sick.
- That's the reason there.
- What are you talking about? Putting your dirty fingers in your mouth.
Counting your teeth, playing with your tongue.
Hey, I wash my hands at least three times a day.
Well, that's very upsetting, because you pee at least five times a day.
That's because I drink the proper amount of fluids for a man my size.
Pardon me for hydrating.
Come on, you're sweating like a hooker in a church.
A fully hydrated, 300-pound hooker.
This isn't sweat, it's condensation.
It's cold outside, it's warm inside, which causes me to become a little dewy.
Why are you being a martyr? It's not like there's gonna be some kind of crime wave.
It's not like we can do anything about it if there was.
For the last time, I am not sick.
Now, where you gonna put that? - I mean, it ain't just gonna go away.
- There's nothing to put away.
Did you just wipe that sneeze on your pant leg? No.
Yes, you did.
Now, go to the bathroom and wipe the snot off your hands.
Fine.
You know, you're a real nag sometimes.
Well, it's about time for pee number three anyway.
Quit counting my pees.
If only I could.
Don't even get me started about his belly button.
He digs into that thing like there's money at the bottom.
How were things at the mortuary today, pumpkin? Pretty quiet.
Holiday suicide season is over so we're back to just old people and slow pedestrians.
Well, don't despair.
Valentine's Day is right around the corner.
Yeah, jilted lover season.
Always good for a couple of bridge jumpers or someone taking a lonely bath with a blow dryer.
It's almost impossible to get their hair to stay down.
Hello.
- Whoa, fancy.
- Va-va-voom.
- Thank you.
- You look beautiful.
I better.
This dress is the reason my car won't have snow tires on it this year.
Well, fashion first, safety second.
So, what's the occasion, Mol? My boyfriend is taking me to see La Bohème tonight.
Oh, so you finally suckered him into taking you to the opera, huh? Does he know that Elmer Fudd's not in it? He's actually being really sweet about it.
Although I'm sure that the opera is the last place in the world he wants to go.
Which means you're finally dating a straight man.
About time, right? Hey, you kiss enough fairies, one of them is bound to turn into a frog.
Amen.
Okay, I'm fine.
I'll be fine.
Mike Biggs does not get sick.
Oh, brain freeze, brain freeze.
Son of a bitch! - Hello.
- Hey.
Wow, you look gorgeous.
Oh, thank you.
You're not so bad yourself there, mister.
- Yeah, 2-for-1 sale at the suit store.
- Oh.
Saving the other one for St.
Patty's Day.
You know why? - Because it's green? - Bingo.
- So how long is this thing? - About three hours.
Three hours? Wow, they really give you your money's worth.
Yeah.
Hey, is that men's room downstairs the closest bathroom? - I think so.
Why? - Oh, just like to get the lay of the land.
I like to be aware of my surroundings.
It's my cop instincts.
I need to know where to run, where to hide, and I need to know where to pee.
- So, what's this opera about? - It's about a poet named Rodolfo.
He falls in love with a seamstress named Mimi.
Oh.
Okay, I'm a fan already.
Now, Mimi is kind of a flirt but Rodolfo can't break up with her because she's ill.
Oh.
I see.
And it takes three hours for her to croak, huh? No chance she could drop early, like at a boxing match.
Look, I realize this is not your thing but if you give it half a chance, you'll enjoy it.
I trust you.
I've come to appreciate things you've introduced me to.
White wine, documentaries, clean sheets.
I think you'll like this.
You don't have to understand Italian to follow the story.
- Oh, it's in a foreign language.
- Hmm.
That's a nice bonus.
- Oh, mm-hm.
- And three hours from now.
God, where's John Wilkes Booth when you need him? - Are you enjoying it? - Oh, it's magical.
Sorry, just two corn dogs fighting for kennel space.
Ha, ha.
Bravo, bravissimo.
I know, and we're just at intermission.
- What? There's more? - Yeah.
Oh, my God, you're drenched in sweat.
Well, what did you expect? I'm a fat guy in a wool suit.
- You have a fever.
- You bet I do.
Opera fever, whoo.
No, sir, you're sick.
We need to get you in bed.
Okay, but I still get credit for the full three hours, right? Are you sure you're okay to drive? I'm fine.
Although I am a little miffed you dragged me out of the opera before I could see how it ended.
Guess I'll just have to buy the book.
Look, I appreciate that you're strong like bull but you should spend the night at my place so I can take care of you.
There's nothing to take care of.
I just need to go home, get a good night's sleep, and I'll be fit as a fiddle.
Here's a million-dollar idea.
Windshield wipers on the inside.
Okay, just help me zip up my fly, tuck in my shirt, and we're good to go.
I don't see that working out for you.
- You're staying home today.
- No, Mike Biggs does not miss work.
And Carl McMillan doesn't ride with a man holding a throw-up bucket.
Allow me this one eccentricity.
It'll be fine.
Just drive slow, avoid the speed bumps.
If we have to chase down any perps on foot, you may have to go it alone.
So I won't be able to count on your lightning speed and cat-like reflexes? I'm gonna get ahold of Molly, have her take care of you.
I don't want her to see me sweaty and out of breath.
She'll never wanna have sex with me.
If she hasn't seen you sweaty and out of breath, I'm sure you haven't had sex.
- Please don't call her.
I'm begging you.
- Somebody's gotta take care of you.
Hey, I am a grown man, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.
- It's your mother.
- Mom, I don't feel so good.
I can't believe you don't own a hot-water bottle.
You young people think you can cure everything with a pill or a shot of dope.
Drink that.
- Oh, that burns.
- Of course it burns.
It's whiskey and cayenne pepper.
You don't coddle flu germs.
You wanna torch their village and behead their elders.
Here, use Jim as your hot-water bottle for now.
But whatever you do, don't roll over on the little fella.
I rescued him from the pound, but I ain't digging him out of your fanny.
- What is that stuff? - Mentholatum.
It'll help bring the lung oysters to the surface.
- So where's your little lady friend at? - She's probably at work.
Oh, that's convenient.
Drags you out honky-tonking all night, gets you sick as a dog then leaves me with the thankless task of slathering up your big, stinky feet.
- I didn't ask you to do this.
- You didn't ask me to give birth to you.
But that's what a mother does.
Split me open like a walnut.
You've mentioned it a couple times over the years.
Just quoting the doctor.
Said he never saw anything like it.
You had chest hair and a front tooth.
I've seen the pictures.
It was like nursing a beaver.
All right, I'm gonna put some towels in the oven and crank up the thermostat so we can sweat the crud out of you.
I'll get it.
You stay put.
Oh, and if you gotta break wind lift the covers and at least give poor Jim a fighting chance.
Okay.
Oops.
Sorry, Jim.
- Mrs.
Biggs.
- Mike can't come out.
He's sick.
I That's why I'm here.
Been trying to call, but there's been no answer.
Yeah, I had to unplug the phone because you kept waking him up.
Oh, well, can I just poke my head in and say hello? - He's asleep.
Mom? You happy? You woke him up again.
- Excuse me, I'm just gonna say hi.
- Well, keep it short.
He's in no shape for dirty dancing or a shoes-on quickie.
- Mike.
- There's my girl.
If I'd known you were this sick, I never would've made you go to the opera.
Made me? It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Right? Opera, huh? I can't even get him to take me to the Ice Capades.
I had to go with a woman from church that I hate.
What can I do? Can I make you something to eat? Ha, that'd be a fool's errand.
I made him chicken noodle soup.
The broth came out one end, the noodles came out the other.
- Mom, please.
- What? She's a grown woman.
She knows you poop and vomit.
Well, she certainly does now.
We should probably let him get some sleep.
- Yeah, okay.
Love you.
- I love you too.
Yeah, yeah, everybody loves everybody.
Listen, uh, Mrs.
Biggs.
I appreciate you getting here so quickly, but I can take over now.
Really? Ready to wipe the dried snot off his nose take his temperature the baby way? Or the normal, grown-up person way, yeah.
I think I can handle it.
All right, suit yourself.
You better run out to the pharmacy and get a few things before I go.
- All right, like what? - Well, I made a list.
He didn't have anything here.
He was using coffee filters for toilet paper.
I don't know what he was using for coffee filters.
Luckily, I keep Pepto and whiskey in my purse.
Wart cream and corn pads? Those are for me.
My little vanities.
I'll reimburse you.
No, please, my treat.
Thank you for holding down the fort.
Oh, thanks.
You're so sweet.
Sweet, but gullible.
Mikey, get your snow boots on.
We're bugging out.
Where are we going, Mom? Where I should've taken you in the first place.
Oh, no, not the Ice Capades.
I'm putting citronella in the humidifier.
Citronella? Isn't that for killing mosquitoes? Hey, bugs are bugs.
Help me understand.
I called an audible.
I can take better care of him here.
Oh, and you couldn't leave a note or make a phone call? Try dialing a phone when you're loading 300 pounds of clammy dead weight into a car.
Listen, that's my boyfriend in there.
I'm the one who's gonna take care of him.
Well, he may be your boyfriend, but he's my son.
I've nursed him through croup, measles, broken bones and sat with him in the bathroom while he tried to pass a G.
I.
Joe head.
So don't think you're gonna march in there and brush aside 35 years of mothering.
You know what? You're right.
And you've done an amazing job.
He's a sweet, wonderful man, and I realize that's mostly because of you.
Well, wasn't easy.
His dad was never around.
I understand.
You had to be both mother and father to him.
And the results speak for themselves.
Well, thank you very much.
No, thank you.
Tell him to call me when he feels better.
Hang on.
You drove all the way over, might as well come in and have a cup of tea.
- Are you sure it's okay? - Yeah.
Got the wart cream and corn pads? Yeah, it's in there.
You're all set for a night on the town with open-toed shoes.
Cute.
But for the record, I'm not a whore.
Come on in.
Mikey, your little girlfriend's here, but she can't stay long.
- Hi, honey.
Hi, sweetie.
Lay off the grab-ass.
He's still on the mend.
I'll try and control myself.
You wanna go for a ride in the car? What kind of lunatic loads a sick man into a car and kidnaps him? I mean, I'm doing it to make a point, but your mother, she's just crazy.
Where are we going? I'm not wearing pants.
That witch doctor was feeding you whiskey.
What's next, putting leeches on your neck? I mean, I haven't raised a child, but I'm a teacher.
I work with children every day, and they're just like you.
Touching stuff, putting their fingers in their mouth.
You're still running a fever.
I'm gonna get you some aspirin.
Fingers! Don't ask any questions, just get in the car.
Damn it.
This isn't over, Peggy Biggs! I know where you live! You better sleep with one eye open, old woman! Your dog hates you! She doesn't know who she's messing with, Mikey.
I'm not some toothless rube at the county fair getting lured into the hoochie-coochie tent.
Thinks she can walk into my house and steal my boy right out from under my nose.
She caught me when my guard was down.
That'll never happen again.
We're gonna stop by Home Depot.
I'm getting some utility rope and cowbells.
She walks within 3 feet of my perimeter and I'll know it.
Mom, I really don't feel so good.
Worse come to worst, we can hole you up in your Uncle Ray's fishing cabin.
I have to put chains on the tires to get to it, but just let little missy try and find you in the backwoods of Appleton, Wisconsin.
Oh, now that's clearing up very nicely.
I do believe you're on the mend.