Charlie? Where's Charlie?
Check the living room.
- Charlie, guess what? - Somebody call me?
Not me.
He's not in the living room.
- Try his bedroom. - Thanks.
Charlie, you gotta see this.
Are you sure nobody's calling me?
Wouldn't I tell you?
Berta, he's not in his room.
- What? - I said, he's not in his room.
What?
- Did you find him? - He's not up there.
- Try Jake's room. - What'd he be doing in Jake's room?
Hey, I'm just trying to help.
I'm sorry. Charlie!
I'm sure I heard something.
I don't know what to tell you.
I could do this all day.
Charlie.
Hey, Alan.
- Didn't you hear me calling you? - Oh, that was you.
Of course it was me. Who else would it be?
Don't snap at me.
I've been running all over looking for you.
Well, I was right here.
I know that now.
Hey, that's no reason to have a hissy fit.
Hissy fit? This is not a hissy fit.
Say it higher, Alan. A couple of dogs in the neighborhood didn't hear you.
I'm all done. I'm going home now.
- Thank you. - Good night.
Good night, my pets.
Now that you've managed to find me, what do you want?
There was something I was excited to show you, but now I don't want to.
- I'm okay with that. - So am I.
Oh, come on. You gotta see this.
All right. Fine.
Hey. Wait a minute.
Did Berta know you were out here?
Very mature, Alan. Blame the maid.
Oh, you bought a Porsche.
"Porsche." What do you think?
It's cute.
What do you mean, cute?
I mean, it looks like my car's hot little girlfriend.
Are you saying this is a chick car? Because it isn't. It's a Porsche.
Yeah. The cute little one.
No, no, no. It's the sporty one.
If your sport is girls' basketball.
No, no, it's got the fuel injection, and the rack and the pinion...
...and the leather thingy to cover the hood.
That's called a bra, Alan.
Yeah, but it's made of leather.
- All right. Whatever. - It is not a chick car.
The salesman showed me brochures with pictures of guys driving it.
Alan, if a monkey walked into the dealership...
...he'd have been shown pictures of monkeys driving it.
Monkeys can't drive a stick.
Now, come on. We'll go for a spin, pick up Jake.
Where'd you get the money for this?
Where'd you get it...
...because they're not cheap. - No, no, they are not.
Where'd you get the money for this?
The money. Where'd you get it?
Oh, I got it from...
- What? - I got a loan from...
Alan, where'd the money come from?
I found it.
- Alan? - Mom.
You traded your soul for a Porsche.
I didn't trade my soul, and it's "Porsche."
Alan, why didn't you come to me?
No, I already owe you so much.
You won't let me pay rent and you pay all the utilities.
Keeping that in mind, did you ever consider...
...taking the money from Mom and paying me back?
No, not really.
Come on. Let me show you what this baby can do.
Well, what do you know? Monkeys can drive a stick.
You know, the salesman was right.
You really do feel special in one of these things.
Oh, yeah. Probably not a lot of middle-aged, divorced guys...
...driving around L.A. In a Porsche.
"Porsche."
Oh, wait, I forgot to show you the best part.
Alan, that's a NASCAR hat.
Yeah, they were out of the Porsche hats.
I wanted something that said speed and performance, so I got this.
What you should be wearing is a hat with a propeller on top.
Come on, open her up.
The first 1000 miles is the break-in period.
You're not supposed to go over 65.
Well, then go 65.
The speed limit is 60. You want me to get a ticket?
Alan, you're driving an expensive red sports car.
If you're not getting tickets and tail, you might as well take the bus.
Which, by the way, just passed us.
I am going plenty fast, thank you very much.
Can we at least put the top down?
No, I wanna trap the new-car smell in as long as I can.
Man, are you anal-retentive.
You need a bumper sticker that reads, "My other car is a puckered rectum."
Oh, yeah. Like I'd desecrate this car with a bumper sticker.
God, I love that sound.
Will you stop it?
Jake, your dad's here. Where's your car?
Oh, my car? My car is...
...right there.
- You got a Porsche? - "Porsche."
I have to struggle to make ends meet, and you can buy a Porsche?
What are you talking about? Your ends have not only met...
...they've been to Hawaii and remodeled the kitchen.
Don't change the subject. How can you afford a fancy car?
Well, I can't afford it, really.
Maybe I have to call my attorney.
And re-examine our whole alimony/child-support agreement.
No, no, you don't.
It wasn't very expensive.
This is the girl version. Right, Charlie?
Oh, yeah, yeah. You've gotta kiss it before you can even stick the key in.
Judith, you have nothing to worry about. You've successfully sucked me dry.
Absolutely. This guy's farting dust.
Then where'd he get the money for the car?
He borrowed it from our mother.
Give me a break. Even Alan's not that stupid.
Oh, but he is.
I am. I swear to God.
- Hey, cool car. Is it yours? - Yeah.
We're gonna have to talk about my allowance.
Okay, well, have a nice weekend.
Wait a minute. That's a two-seater. Where's he gonna sit?
And you didn't believe he was that stupid.
We're going way over the speed limit.
Let me worry about that. You just keep looking for cops.
I don't usually take a cab.
I drive a red Boxster. You know, Porsche.
- Those are very nice. - Thank you.
My sister has one.
- Hey, Berta. You seen my brother? - Did you check his room?
Thanks.
Sweetie, it is a beautiful car. Congratulations.
- Thanks, Mom. I'm really enjoying it. - Well, your Aunt Sylvia loves hers.
Berta, have you seen Charlie?
Look out on the deck.
- I was looking for you. - I was in the garage.
- I was looking for you. - I was looking for Alan.
I was in the garage.
Okay. Bye.
Oh, sure. Blame the maid.
Oh, Alan, before I forget, I need to ask you for a little favor.
Your soul, please.
Charlie, for God's sake...
Careful. I don't think you're allowed to say "God"...
...without bursting into flames or something.
Shush with your antichrist humor.
It's getting old.
Alan, I'd like you to join me for dinner tomorrow night.
- Why? - I'm dating a man I'd like you to meet.
And?
He has a lovely daughter about your age.
Sayeth the serpent.
No. Mom, please, please, please, no blind dates.
Why not? She's a sweet girl and I think you might really hit it off.
- Why can't Charlie go out with her? - Hey, she didn't buy me a car.
This has absolutely nothing to do with the car.
Besides, I want to get closer to this man.
Should the time come when I want an ugly breakup...
...I'll let you take a crack at his daughter.
I'm sorry, Mom. But I'd rather not.
Alan, I bought you a car.
I love the smell of brimstone in the morning.
Tomorrow night, 8:00, Le Pissoir.
- I really appreciate this, darling. - Sure.
Oh, one more thing. She's been through a rough patch lately...
...so we won't be ordering alcohol.
Bye-bye.
No, really. She sounds great.
Looks like my mom and your dad are running a little late.
Typical.
Yeah. So you're in town for the weekend. Where do you live?
Palm Springs.
That's nice. How long have you lived there?
Forty-two days, so far.
Forty-two days?
Yeah. This is my first weekend pass.
I was supposed to get one at 30, but I bit a guy.
- Would you like a cocktail? - No, no, no cocktails. No.
- No, that's all right. You can have one. - No, I'm fine.
- Oh, please. Go ahead. - No. I don't think...
Order a drink, damn it. I wanna smell it.
We're fine. Maybe just a fizzy water.
So, what do you do?
I'm a chiropractor.
Really? Can you prescribe stuff?
No.
Did you hear that?
- It's my phone. - Oh, thank God.
Hello? Oh, hey, Mom. Where are you?
Yes, she's here.
Yes, very sweet. Where are you?
Trudy, Trudy, there's no smoking.
Oh, that's just great. Just jim-freaking-dandy.
You guys are coming, right? Well, what am I supposed to do?
Yes, I know you bought me a car.
All right, all right. All right. Goodbye.
Apparently, your father mixed up his heart pills with his Viagra...
...and they didn't wanna waste the opportunity.
So he's not coming?
Well...
Perfect. Just perfect.
That son of a bitch never cared about me.
Trudy, Trudy...
He'd rather spend the night with some old hose bag.
That old hose bag is my mother...
...and there's still no smoking in here. I'm sorry.
Careful. I bit the last guy who tried to touch me.
Yeah, well, that doesn't mean we can't have a nice meal.
I'll call the waiter.
Hello, hello. Yeah, we're ready to order.
Remind me to get some clean urine from you before we go.
- Two hundred forty pounds... - What are you doing?
Picking off the pepperonis.
Then why'd you order it with pepperonis?
I like to stack them up and eat them in bed.
Hello? Hey, Mom.
No, Dad's not here. He's on a date.
Hang on. Uncle Charlie's talking to me. Yeah?
Don't tell your mom your father's on a date.
- It's none of her business. - Okay.
He's not on a date.
Hang on. She wants to talk to you.
Uncle Charlie's not here.
Give me that.
Hey, Judith. What's up?
Well, he's not a bright kid. What do you want from me?
I don't know where Alan is.
Would you like me to give him a message?
Because who knows? Maybe this time I will.
No message.
How come it's a secret Dad's on a date?
It's not. It's just never a good idea to tell women more than they need to know.
How come?
Because we love them and want to protect them.
A clueless woman is a happy woman.
- Can I have your pepperonis? - No.
Batman!
Come on. Come on, Trudy. Come on. Come on.
- Let's get you back to the Batcave... - Oh, right.
...or whatever cave you crawled out of.
Thank you, kind sir. You are indeed a gentleman.
Allow me to reward you.
A salty! I shall now need a slice of lime and a carafe of tequila.
No, thank you. No, no, we're fine.
Hey, come on, Trudy. Let's take you home.
Okay. But we'll have to be really quiet...
...because my roommate is detoxing, so she's kind of a light sleeper.
No, no, I meant home to your father.
Oh, God.
Daddy!
Oh, I'm such a disappointment to you.
Hey, your aftershave has alcohol in it.
So why is Dad's car a chick car?
It's not really. I was just saying that to bust his chops.
Chops are your nuts, right?
Right.
Mom said it's a midlife-crisis car.
Well, she was bound to be right about something eventually.
What's a midlife crisis?
Well, Jake, it's when a man starts facing his own mortality...
...and tries to recapture his youth.
I've had one of those.
Do tell.
Life was so much simpler when I was 6.
Hello? Hey, Dad.
Listen, don't worry about your midlife crisis.
They usually go away over summer vacation.
He wants to talk to you. Are you here?
Yeah. Whoa, slow down.
Well, how drunk is she?
Really? Batman drunk?
Well, just dump her with Mom and her father.
Where are they?
Viagra and a bad ticker.
Mom loses more boyfriends that way.
Alan, calm down, calm down. Listen to me. Here's what you do:
Take her to a club...
...pin a warning note on her back as a courtesy to the next guy...
...and run like hell.
Well, if you don't want my advice, why'd you call me?
Okay, how about this:
Put the top down and let the night air sober her up.
What's plan B?
How come you don't have a date tonight?
I decided I'd rather hang out with you.
- Really? - No.
You're saying that to bust my chops.
No.
- Hey. - Hey.
- How was your date? - Oh, lots of fun.
- Think you'll marry her? - Doubtful. Charlie?
What happened? You take her to a club and ditch her?
- No, I couldn't do that. - Why not?
Well, it's cheesy and immoral...
...and I'm really not comfortable having some valet touch my car.
- So where is she? - In the garage.
- Oh, Alan. - Well, she passed out.
- I figured I'd let her sleep it off. - You left her in your car?
Why not?
Well, at least she left the garage door open.
It's a red Porsche Boxster with dealer plates.
"Porsche." Yeah, about an hour ago.
Hey, Dad, check it out. Your car's on TV.
I'll call you back.
- chase so far. The suspect was first spotted in Malibu...
... on the Pacific Coast Highway...
... and is now southbound on the 405 freeway.
Oh, God!
Don't worry. I've watched hundreds of these. They never make it.
- she just ran over the nail strips that the Highway Patrol laid out.
Oh, man, look at the sparks.
That's because she's riding on rims, Jake.
You gotta like how your car handles without tires.
Oh, God!
Whoa, that was a close call.
She sideswiped that SUV and kept right on going.
What's that dragging alongside Dad's car?
I think that's the door.
- Cool. - Oh, God!
Dale, this is Trish in the studio. Can you see the suspect?
How do you know it's a woman?
Well, Trish, we actually don 't know it's a woman...
... but thought it was a safe bet based on the type of car.
It's not a chick car.
Relax, Dad. He's just busting your chops.