George Lopez (2002) s03e20 Episode Script

Max, time for breakfast.
Wait a minute.
What happened in here? What did you do to your pillow? It kept me from sleeping, so I punched it.
And then I hit it with my bat.
Then I ripped it apart with my teeth.
Well, okay.
That's perfectly normal, son.
Angie, you wanna get in here and bring a crucifix! Max, why did you do this? I can't sleep.
I haven't been able to for a week.
Why didn't you tell us? Well, I already have dyslexia and dyscalculia.
The last thing I need to find out is that I have dys-sleepia.
It's called insomnia.
I knew there'd be a word for it.
There's a word for everything that's wrong with me.
Honey, there's nothing wrong with you.
I'm in special ed.
I study three times harder than anyone else, and I still might flunk the fifth grade.
Oh, yeah, I'm a winner.
Look, you're under a lot of pressure.
What do you say we take the day off from school and I bring your breakfast up here? Hm? Thanks.
Good.
Okay, now, you rest, okay? Before you know it, you'll fall asleep and everything will be all right.
Begone! Heh.
Nighty night.
An 11-year-old should not be awake all night.
Ugh.
Begone.
Staying awake all night is not gonna help him pass the fifth grade.
Hey, Daddy.
Hi, Angie, my angel.
Hello, Benita, my little devil.
Hello, George, my Yeah, there you are.
Hey, Vic, you know, they sell bacon in the stores and, wow, you can even cook it at your own house.
- George, maybe he needs a psychologist.
- He's not crazy, Angie.
He's just old and Ionely and too cheap to buy his own breakfast.
I'm talking about Max.
What's wrong with Max? Oh, Daddy, he's so stressed out about school, he ripped up his pillow last night.
Does your hospital have any good child psychologists? Psychologists? Look, no way.
Look, Angie, we're Lopezes.
And we don't go for help until right before it's too late.
Look, he's not going to a psychologist until the dog tells him to.
Amen to that.
Max is just going through a phase.
I used to hear George through his door beating up his pillow and yelling: "I hate you, Mom!" Who knows what that means, huh? Kids.
Daddy, you're a doctor.
Help me out here.
Pssh.
Therapy is for the weak.
Castro stole my island and a web designer stole my wife.
But did you see me crying like a baby to someone who thinks that smoking a cigar is a sign of latent homosexuality? Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
But unless it's a Dominican or a Honduran.
Those are specifically grown for homosexuals.
Finally.
The voice of reason.
Okay.
If you don't like therapy, there are other ways to deal with stress.
If Max could do something creative it could take his mind off his problems, help him sleep.
Like, what about an art class? What? How is art gonna help him get rid of his frustrations? "Oh, I am so angry.
I will paint a lively French café scene.
" Heh.
Okay, look, I'm gonna take his breakfast up.
We can figure this out later.
I'll tell you how I get rid of my stress.
I burn it off at the gym.
And then I get a spray tan.
It doesn't hurt my skin and I look fantastic.
So you're orange downstairs too? Mom.
Oye, chico, I got it.
Boxing.
- Boxing? - When I was a boy in Cuba I suffered from the anxiety, so my father taught me how to box.
I forgot about my problems and I got stronger.
I could face any opponent on the island without fear.
Then Castro showed up, you hid your watch in your butt and you paddled to Miami.
Yes, but I was so tough from boxing, no man dared take that watch from me.
Ooh.
Vic, your shoe is untied.
Oh, yeah? Look at that, I'm late for work.
Look, Vic, boxing is a good way to blow off steam but Angie would never go for it.
She'd be worried Max is gonna get hurt.
How can he get hurt, George? He's half Mexican and half Cuban.
- Órale, he was born to fight.
- Pssh.
And live at home until he's 40.
Listen, Angie doesn't have to know about this until we see if Max likes boxing or not.
Hm? In the meantime, we'll say he's taking art classes.
No.
Look, I promised Angie I wasn't gonna go behind her back anymore.
Okay, Vic? I can't lie to her.
What if I lie and you nod vigorously? I can do that.
Okay, now I'm really worried.
Max wants to know if we have any pillowcases that taste better.
Angie, I've made a decision.
- Tell her, Vic.
- Max is taking art classes.
Really? For once, you're admitting I had a good idea.
Admit it, George.
Come on, Max.
Throw some combinations, huh? Hey, how's our boy doing? Having a great time, Mom, and he's sleeping like a baby.
Oh, wow, look at him go.
Two weeks in the gym and my grandson is already a killer.
Well, I guess toughness skips a generation, huh, princess? Hey, I could have been a good boxer.
You just never encouraged me, or fed me.
That's not true.
Who gets strong on powdered milk? Looking good, kid.
You might wanna keep your chin down.
Sorry, I don't take boxing advice from girls.
Heh-heh.
If you're gonna train in my gym, you're gonna have to listen to me.
Max, this is Laila Ali.
This is Muhammad Ali's daughter.
She's the greatest female fighter of all times, man.
And she's so pretty.
Yeah? Well, can you do this? Watch out.
- Let me try.
Let me try.
- No, he believes you.
Is it over? You know, you're a cocky little kid.
We ought to see what you can do in the ring.
He's only been hitting the bag a couple of weeks.
And his mom doesn't even know that he's doing this.
That's okay.
They'll have on headgear.
They'll just spar a little.
- Give it a try.
- All right.
Let's go.
I'm Dr.
Victor Palmero welterweight champion, Senor de la Madrid's School for Boys 1956, '57 and '59.
Cardiologist, pugilist, available.
- I'm married.
- Congratulations.
Perhaps you should wear a ring.
Hey, Joey, give Max here a round.
Your kid's got some anger.
Oh, thanks.
It wasn't easy getting him there.
It took years of failure and rejection, but he finally feels like a nobody.
He's pretty quick.
You know, we have an open tournament coming up in a couple weeks.
You might wanna sign him up.
Way to go, dude.
That's my boy! I am so proud of you, Max.
You're a real fighter, man.
Did you see me? I put him down.
I'm the man! Unh! Ooh! Maybe we should put a cup on him before he takes his shoes off.
All right, she's not here.
Come on now.
Okay, let's see.
Oh, man, it's getting worse.
A black eye is something to be proud of.
Max, my friend, you're on your way to becoming a man.
First, a black eye, then facial hair then making love to a woman you later found out your father paid for with a pig.
- Vic.
- A pig well spent, if you ask me.
Well, there's no hiding Max's boxing now.
You're gonna have to face your wife.
No way.
When she sees that, she's not gonna let him box again.
Well, let's tell her it happened in art class.
No.
Okay, we're not lying anymore.
That's how we got in this mess.
Look, I'm just thinking about coming clean and telling her the truth.
I changed my mind.
Hide.
- Hey, you're home early.
- Hey.
- Wow, look how beautiful you look.
- Thanks.
Max, get in here and help with the groceries.
What's up, Mom? Why are you wearing Carmen's sunglasses? That's it.
You're grounded.
You go put those back in her room, and you think about what you've done.
But on the way, don't trip on the end table in the hallway and get a black eye.
Oh, now that I told him, it's probably gonna happen.
That's crazy.
Hey, come back here.
Take those off before you break them.
Oh, my God.
What happened to your eye? I hit my head on the end table in the hall.
What did I just say? George, what is going on? All right, I smacked him.
I know I'm not supposed to, but he really mouthed off bad this time.
Benny, I don't think there's anything he could say that would make you do that.
He said you were spoiled, a lousy cook, and a failure as a wife.
It's true.
And I'm glad I said it.
Oh, stop it.
Your mother is too smart to believe that.
The truth is, I hit him.
He said Castro was stronger than Superman and I lost my cool.
George, your turn.
I'm gonna stick with falling in the hall.
My son has a black eye.
And I wanna know how he got it right now.
He's been boxing.
You put my little boy in the ring so other boys could hit him? Look, Angie, it wasn't my idea.
Look, I'm not gonna rat anybody out.
But there's somebody in this kitchen that said, "Oye, chico.
I got it.
Boxing.
" Oye, chica, Benny, he ratted you out.
Max, go upstairs and ice your eye in your room.
I need to talk to your idiot.
And your grand-idiots.
Look, Angie, relax.
Okay, the kids wore headgear, and they fight short rounds.
They get in there, "ding," it's over.
I mean, it's safe.
You know, in my 30 years of practicing medicine I have never once treated a child for serious injury due to boxing.
You're a cardiologist.
One good thing about being divorced is that I can do this.
And I don't give a crap, so I can do this.
Okay, where should we start? That you and Max lied to me or that you got him doing something dangerous you knew I would never approve of.
Okay, look, Angie, Max has been boxing for the last two weeks.
All right? And he's been able to focus better in school and he's sleeping better.
Isn't that what we wanted, right? But at what price? I don't want some kid punching my son in the face so he could sleep.
It was an accident.
He hit himself taking off his glove.
I bet you didn't even give art a chance.
At least with art he'd be doing something meaningful.
Meaningful? Hey, did Michelangelo invent a grill that knocks the fat out of meat? I don't think so.
Look, Angie, you're the one that's always worried about his self-esteem, okay? Well, boxing is giving it back to him.
"Ta-ting.
" I don't want him getting his self-esteem from hurting people.
But I know I can win.
Honey, come down here.
Please, Mom.
I really like it.
There's a tournament next week.
All right, let me show you that it's safe.
How can you say no to this face? This face? Please.
It's the only thing that makes me forget about school.
You can box this one time.
If I don't like it, it's over.
Thanks, Mom.
I'm gonna go get some sleep.
I gotta train hard if I'm gonna kick some butt next week.
Oh, my night light's out, so I'm gonna leave my door open and the hall light on.
You got it, killer.
No, I'm serious.
Leave it on.
Your opponent is bigger, but slow.
Stay out of his reach.
Pick your spots.
And remember the rhythm.
That'd be great if he was fighting Ricky Ricardo.
Just remember, it's not important whether you win or lose, Max.
What's important is that your mom thinks you're okay.
So even if he's beating the hell out of you, just remember to smile.
- Don't worry, he's gonna be all right.
- Hey, Daddy, what's a ring card girl? Something you'll never be.
I can't, but thanks for the soda.
Okay.
Gentlemen, I want a clean hard fight.
Obey my instructions.
Touch them up.
Hey, man, what are you doing? I'm gonna hit you every time my baby gets hit.
You like getting hit in the head? Oh, that was a low blow.
No, it wasn't.
Oh, he's getting killed in there.
Why does he keep smiling at us? I'll tell you what's happening.
He's afraid to be aggressive because he knows you won't approve.
Oh, man, he's gonna get hurt.
Honey, it's Mommy.
Start punching, baby.
I approve.
That's it, Angie.
He just needed to know you wanted him to win.
You got it, Max.
Daddy would approve a strong right cross.
He's open.
Max! Now Daddy would approve of you getting up.
- And the capital of California is? - Sacramento.
Can I go to bed now? No, honey.
You might have a concussion, and you have to stay awake.
It's kind of funny.
He started boxing to sleep.
And now he can't sleep or else he'll fall into a coma.
Whoo! Angie, life on the big, blue marble.
- Can I sit down for a while? - All right, honey.
But I'm gonna get you a soda, so you stay awake.
Don't be sad, Max.
The fact that you may have a concussion means that you probably have a brain.
You know, pretty soon, I'll be able to beat you up.
Yeah.
You're tough, all right.
Lullaby and good night And slip into your coma Carmen.
How's your head feel, honey? It'll be okay.
The next fight isn't for a week anyway.
Look, there's not gonna be a next fight, Max.
When I saw you go down and hit your head like that, I knew it wasn't worth it so boxing is over.
- Why? So I got hurt.
I could get hurt skateboarding or playing soccer or playing steak-knife darts with Ricky.
I have a concussion.
I don't know what I'm saying.
The difference with boxing is someone is trying to hurt you.
When you get hurt, Max your mother and I would like it to be more of a surprise which is good for you too because a shock makes us care more.
But it felt good when I was boxing.
It helped me sleep.
Then you gotta take the pressure off yourself, Max.
What's the worst thing that could happen if you fail the fifth grade? I'll be humiliated.
I'll lose all my friends.
I'll have to redo all the work I hated doing this year.
And every day I go to class, I'll know I'm stupider than everyone else there.
Well, you've obviously given this some thought.
Okay, here's the deal.
Until we find another way to help you sleep, you're not going through this alone.
- We'll stay up with you.
- Right.
We'II, uh We'll watch TV and we'll play games.
Hey, we'll prank call Grandma Benny late at night when she's drunk.
"Ben? Ben Dover? There's no Ben Dover here, you damn kids.
If you had any huevos, you'd come over here and say that to my gun.
" Okay? - Okay.
- All right.
You're a good dad.
I thought he'd feel good if he knew he wasn't going through this alone.
And maybe that'll help him relax and he could finally get some sleep.
- Like he is right now.
- Max! Up, up, up.
The capital of Wyoming is? I don't know.
No, that's good, Angie.
He really doesn't know.
- What? - Your skin.
I just got a spray tan.
I have a healthy glow.
You look like a hairy yam.
"Get a spray tan," he said.
"Chicks will dig it," he said.
Ernie, I'm not going to insult you.
I just have a message for you.
Willy Wonka called.
He wants you back at the factory right away.
Ha, ha, ha.