Once a month, when the moon is a waxing gibbous
we have to have procreation sex with our dumb husbands.
First, we have to do a ritual dance
to ensure we have a male heir.
This world does not need more girls.
I don't know why we took all that land from the Indians
if we're just going to act like them.
I'd rather give birth to a goat than another girl.
At least a goat might have a good idea once in a while.
I'm ready.
Having sex with Albert is like being penetrated
by a runny egg.
Yeah, there it is.
Well, having sex with Victor is like drowning under a quilt
moistened by halitosis.
All right, here we go.
Oh.
Oh, Victor. Oh, Victor.
Make your voice really deep.
Oh, Victor.
Uh...
That's it. That's it, yes.
Victor. Oh, God.
Okay. Good.
Aah!
There and...
Ah.
Done.
Ouch. Ow. Ow.
Good.
How did he get on the bed?
I'm so surprised that he's here. What? You're fired!
Don't you come in when I'm making love to my wife!
♪ I want the money, I want the fame ♪
♪ I want the whole world to know my name ♪
♪ this is mine, I got to get it ♪
♪ I got to get it, got, got to get it ♪
♪ another period ♪
Sync and corrections by n17t01 www.addic7ed.com
Thank you again for my job, my handsome walrus.
You're so welcome.
Nothing brings me as much pleasure
as helping out pathetic gutter wenches.
Now, I'm off. Business calls.
Be back soon.
What are you doing out here, you muskrat?
I was taking out the trash.
Your eyes are the color of really pretty eyes.
Oh, your skin is like a milk-fed piglet.
Oh, I wish we could sail away together.
Me too.
Faster, boy. I want to feel the wind in my hair.
Why are you two lawn boating?
Afternoons are for defecating and learning Latin.
Mother, we can't work all the time.
Frederick, put on a clean top hat.
I've invited a widow to the manor
in hopes of making a match.
Frederick will never get married.
All the women Mother's brought so far have either left
or had accidents.
Pussy Von Anderstein's former husband was a coon-tie tycoon.
He made a fortune designing raccoon-skin neckties,
and as long as you don't do anything stupid,
that fortune will be ours.
But we have infinite money!
Yes, if we have infinite money and we add Pussy money to it,
we have double infinite money.
But, Mother, infinity can't be doubled,
as its very nature is its boundlessness.
It frightens me when you act all smart like that.
Look, the day moon!
Frederick, you must take a wife.
You're 23 years old.
Mother, I'm 35.
You're what?
Yes. Right?
Mm-hmm.
Okay.
♪ bitch, kiss the ring ♪
Pussy, dear,
Welcome to Bellacourt Manor.
Oh, thank you, Dodo.
Blanche, you shall be Pussy's lady's maid.
Actually, I prefer a male attendant.
I'll, uh, keep...
him.
Oh. Hmm.
And here's where you'll be staying.
Just put this right here.
And if you need anything else, just let me know.
Ow!
What are you doing?
Oh, no. That's my--
I'm a pure boy, ma'am. Please.
Ow.
What's happening now?
Oh!
Ah. Ow.
Whew.
Beatrice, I wonder if you might tell me a little bit
about your twin brother, Frederick.
Oh, I wouldn't bother with him.
He only likes women his own age, like, exactly his own age.
Falling Charlie, do your routine for Pussy.
It's ludicrous.
The falling routine is actually quite physically taxing.
But I have a loveable new character
called "The Little Tramp."
Perhaps I might try him instead?
Blech.
Practice your craft in the bordello.
Yes, we pay you for A material.
If we weren't in the mood for falling,
honestly, we would have hired Upright Reggie.
The falling will do.
Yes, of course.
This fool reminds me of my ex-husband.
Oh, don't you mean your dead husband?
Oh, no, I procured a divorce.
Well, I always thought divorce was a legend,
like the yeti or the working poor.
Oh, I've had a divorce.
I had one in Paris with apples and heavy cream.
And it was delicious.
That was pie, you idiot.
Oh.
A divorce is when you no longer want to be married
and, poof, you're not.
I want a divorce, Mommy.
Everyone knows there are only three ways
for a woman to be granted a divorce--
infidelity, abuse, or a dead spouse.
Well, Victor would never cheat on me
due to my overwhelming physical attractiveness.
Maybe I could get him to beat me up.
Oh, dear!
Ooh, just a little nibble for you.
Oh, okay.
Just a little something.
Oh, I think I got some crumbs in your lap.
Ooh.
Can I tell you something?
I've been ravished.
Men can't be ravished.
When I was at the institution,
the staff ravished all the patients except for me.
It really did a number on my self-esteem.
Well, see, as much as I enjoy picnicking,
I don't want to lead you on.
I don't know if I can pick you to be my wife.
Sweet boy, I'm the one who does the picking.
But you're a woman. I'm-- I'm the one who does the picking,
because I have the geni--
Oh.
Oh, hello.
What are you doing here?
Oh, don't mind me. I'm just having my own, different picnic.
Um...
Maybe I don't want you to pick me.
The only reason I would be getting married
is to ensure our family's legacy
and get mother to stop flogging my bottom with a switch.
Well, I can't say that's not intriguing.
Let's retire to my chambers.
Oh.
Having fun, Celine?
I think you've mistaken me for someone else.
My name is Chair.
Cut the crap, hmm?
You know, you're the whole reason
that I'm here in the first place.
Before I met you, I was a piano player.
I had my own minstrel show.
Lazy Black Hamish and his Negro Knights.
"I sure does wish job was spelled S-L-E-E-P."
Yeah.
You know, I've been left by a lot of strumpets,
but you were the only one with big enough balls
to clear out my bank account.
What do you want?
I want to know what the hell you're doing here.
Why does a high-priced woman of the night
drop it all just to pluck fowl?
I needed a job.
I can't.
My heart belongs to another.
It's not your heart I'm after.
You are so forceful.
That is very unladylike, and I won't stand for it.
What are you doing back there?
Are you-- Oh, my!
That is an unfamiliar sensation.
Do you enjoy it?
Ooh.
I feel as though I shouldn't,
but I-I do.
The body has many pleasure centers.
You just have to know where to look.
Ooh!
- Later. - What if I did?
What if I did? Later.
Chicken tartare?
Oh, yes.
My dear boy, you look as though you've been ravished.
Well, in fact, sirs, I have been ravished.
Oh, I do love a good ravishing joke, don't you?
Don't you find them a bit distasteful, though?
Some people feel that ravishing
is not a topic that should be made light of.
Oh, not me.
Do you know that old chestnut--
Why is it always your ugliest friend
who's the most afraid of being ravished?
That is amusing. You're right. You're right.
- There is no line. - There's no line.
Come on. Come on, step lively, boy.
Dear Lord, please let me get a divorce.
Although I have dreamed of strangling the life
out of Victor's body or having him get hit by a train
or drowning in a bath of his own brandy vomit,
I think it's kinder to have him arrested for battery.
Sorry about this, Victor, but you're going to jail.
Ah!
And that's when he hit me.
I'm so sorry for your pain, ma'am.
Ay, you'll tell us who the black fella was who did this,
and we'll throw him in the pokey right quick.
Oh, no, it-- it was my husband.
Well, that's another matter entirely.
Case closed.
I'm telling you, I was abused by my husband
in a manner that only a divorce would settle.
Well, let me ask you something, dear.
Are you a bitch?
What?
Let's go about this in a different manner.
Were you menstruating at the time of the incident?
Were you riding the red river?
And do you have a raspberry bush?
How dare you? I was very abused!
Looks to me like you walked into a door.
Well, that's an outrageous implication!
And precisely the sort of assumption
that makes women feel unsafe to report their abuse
to the police in the first place!
Well, the rule of thumb clearly states
that a man can discipline his wife
with anything no thicker than his own thumb.
Well, that's the dumbest rule I've ever heard of!
And that, my dear, is why your husband hits you.
If you were my wife, I'd smack some softness into you.
And I'd have hit ya to be a bit taller.
Perhaps some larger bosoms. Now that we've settled that,
would you mind running along, sweetheart,
fetch us a spot of tea?
And perhaps a tour of the premises.
We hear there's a room made entirely of candy.
Well, infidelity and abuse were a bust.
I guess I'm going to have to kill Victor if I want a divorce.
♪ now, now, now ♪
♪ it's mine, it's mine ♪
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Hmm.
Beatrice, what are you doing?
I'm off to behead Pussy.
Should I use my logging axe or my murder hatchet?
Father refuses to cover up another murder.
We can't have another Weekend at Bernard's!
You never let me do anything I want!
I have a better plan. Let's not kill Pussy.
- Let's kill our husbands. - But I like Albert.
He's the only one who can make my bangs fluffy.
No, not kill them kill them.
Let's just have them disappear for long enough
to be declared dead, and then we can marry whoever we want.
Wait. Does that mean I can marry Frederick?
I'm sure that's what it means.
Aah!
_
Everybody gather round. Gather round, quickly now.
I've heard some very distressing rumors.
Which among the staff has been ravished?
It was I.
I was ravished by Pussy Von Anderstein.
Garfield, my God, this is an outrage.
Oh, thank you, Peepers.
You ought to be ashamed of yourself!
Ow.
You should be thanking your lucky stars
that she chose to ravish you, instead of crying about it
like a mewling kitten with a pin in its paw!
I'm docking you six months of gruel.
If you didn't want to be ravished,
maybe you shouldn't be wearing
such an inviting little valet's uniform.
It's your fault.
I wear my valet's uniform for me.
But must it be so tight, Garfield?
Hey, does this mean that I can ravish Blanche?
No.
Thank you for the thought, Hamish.
Milady.
All right, everybody back to work. Skeet, skeet!
Have you seen a tiny Oriental man?
He's--
Ugh! How is it possible your face is getting uglier?
I ran into a door.
Oh.
Victor.
I need you to fake your own death.
I would never fake my own death,
I'll give you $2 million.
I'll have someone draft up a contract right away.
Also...
I will be needing your...
emerald princess crown.
What? No!
That's been in our family for almost three years.
The crown, or I live forever.
Ugh, fine!
Also, I'd like your python slippers.
Those won't even fit you.
Oh, they're not for my feet.
Victor is the most vile, hateful person I've ever met.
You'd think we'd get along.
Well, I'm scared I'm losing him.
I'm afraid he's going to fall in love with that weird lady.
Darling, what do I always tell you?
To not walk in the room when the green scarf is on the handle.
Yes, but I always tell you to follow your heart.
My heart says he's mine and that no one else can have him.
Now, come on, if he doesn't see
what a beautiful, vacant treasure you are,
then he's a fool.
Thank you.
I always feel better after our talks.
Oh! Can you fake your death so I can marry someone else?
Please? Victor said he would.
Well, of course, darling.
If Victor said so, I'm happy to do it.
- Really? - Of course.
Now, just hold still.
I'm gonna make a real piece of art here.
Ooh, I like that.
Oh, yes. Mm.
My current lover is beautiful,
but she only does the normal stuff--
missionary, man on top, possum style.
That's where you lay there completely still
waiting for the danger to pass.
Should we have a spring wedding?
I always thought of myself as a June groom.
Would you mind not playing with my hair?
I need my own space after sex.
It's-- it's not you, it's a physiological thing.
It's called a refractory period.
I want you to know I heard about what happened,
and I believe you, Garfield.
Oh.
We live in a ravish culture. It's everywhere we look--
nickelodeons, daguerreotypes, etchings.
I was saving myself for a summer at sea.
I know.
Here, you can keep it.
Oh.
This is for me?
Oh, I've never received a present before.
Oh. Oh, I knew you felt the same way about me
as I feel about you.
Wait. What way?
Nothing. No ways.
I will cherish this forever.
And I shall name her Towel.
Oh, there you are, Pussy.
I've been looking all over for you.
Wait. Are you going somewhere?
Frederick, what do you think?
I think about how pits get into olives
without making the holes.
But why does it look like you're leaving?
Aren't we getting married?
Sweetie, I was never trying to marry you,
I was just trying to get into your pantaloons.
But you touched me where I expel my waste!
I've touched a lot of men in that place,
and I plan to keep on doing it.
You're not leaving.
I know you. I know my Pussy very well.
You're-- This is-- There's a hidden sketch artist somewhere.
Where are you? Come out.
Mm, afraid not.
Fine! Go!
Go, Pussy! I don't care. I don't need you.
I've never needed you!
It's a lie.
Garfield, help me with my cases.
No, Pussy. Pussy, Pussy, please!
Please, Pussy!
Whatever happens, you stay with me, Towel.
Don't go!
I convinced Victor to leave for six months
so he can be declared legally dead
and I can have sex with whoever I want.
Well, you might wonder why I agreed to leave,
and the answer is simple.
- Our true love. - Money.
Well, yes, but I married into this family to stack cash,
and I can't live my goddamn life on a husband's allowance.
What do you want?
Shouldn't you be with your creepy girlfriend?
I sent her away.
You did? Leave.
That's right.
I picked you
over that heartless, manipulative lotharia.
I have never heard of any of those words.
I don't know. I heard them from my book reader.
But the point is, I love you.
And I have no emotional attachment or hurt feelings
from being discarded and used by Pussy.
Oh, Frederick.
I heard about this thing the-- the girls are doing in Europe.
Divorce?
No. Uh, let me show you.
Yep, right there.
Sync and corrections by n17t01 www.addic7ed.com