Jack and Janet are playing a video game while Mr. Furley is fixing the lock of their door.
Jack: Oh, I got you now, Janet. Fourth down, 28 yards to go. Sorry, lady, but this is a man’s game.
Janet: That’s what you think.
Jack: What’re you doin’?
Janet: I did it! Three points.
Jack: You can’t kick an 80-yard field goal.
Janet: Why not? It worked, didn’t it?
Jack: Yeah, but that’s because it’s a dumb play.
Janet: I don’t care if it’s a dumb play, Jack. I’m supposed to kick-off now, right?
Jack: Forget it, my team’s walkin’ off he field.
Janet: Poor sports.
Jack: Poor sports? How do you like this here?
Janet: Hey, Jack, two can play that game!
Jack: Wait, wait, lemme do my—Janet, come on.
Jack: You can’t do that to my quarterback.
Janet: Yes, I can. Oh, look.
Mr. Furley: Hold it, hold it, hold it. If you two don’t cut it out, I’m gonna penalize the both of you for unnecessary beeping.
Jack: Okay, I’ve had it anyway. She cheats.
Janet: Oh, you are such a big baby.
Jack: I am not!
Jack blows raspberry.
Jack: Mr. Furley, haven’t you fixed that lock yet?
Mr. Furley: Just give me a couple of seconds, will you? You know, they don’t make locks like this anymore.
Janet: That’s right, Mr. Furley, they don’t. Nowadays, they make ‘em so they work.
Mr. Furley: Don’t like the lock? Get a watchdog.
Jack: Hey, Mr. Furley, around here, I am the watchdog.
Mr. Furley: I was thinking more of a german shepherd, not a French poodle.
Jack starts to bark like a large dog.
Mr. Furley: Okay, there, it’s all fixed now. A herd of wild elephants couldn’t break through that door now.
Cindy barges in. The lock falls off the door.
Cindy: Hi, everybody! Well, what do you have to say about that?
Mr. Furley: Don’t see any elephants, do you?
Jack: Come on, Mr. Furley—
Janet: Mr. Furley, what are you going to do now?
Mr. Furley: Now, I’m going over to 208. Mrs. Simpson’s all stopped up. I mean, her drain is.
Janet: Well, what about our lock?
Mr. Furley: Well, I’ll be back.
Cindy: And what about the light by the door?
Jack: Yeah, right there. That-that’s been broken for a month!
Janet: Really, Mr. Furley, we could use some light.
Mr. Furley: You want light? Here’s a candle.
Janet: You can to do more than this.
Mr. Furley: You want a match?
Janet: Mr. Furley, this whole place is falling apart.
Cindy: Yeah, the plaster’s coming down here in the bathroom.
Cindy leads Mr. Furley to the bathroom. Jack grabs Mr. Furley’s arm and leads him to his bedroom.
Jack: Yeah, look at my carpet. It’s unraveling in my bedroom.
Janet snatches Mr. Furley from Jack and leads him to the kitchen.
Janet: And over here, Mr. Furley, we have a kitchen door which is literally falling off the hingers.
Jack: Right, now what do you have to say about that?
Mr. Furley sighs.
Mr. Furley: Gee, this place is in better shape than I thought.
Cindy: Come on, Mr. Furley, even if you do fix something, it never stays fixed.
Mr. Furley: Well, that’s not my fault. My brother Bart never gives me enough money to fix anything right.
Jack: Well, why don’t you complain to him?
Janet: Because he’s scared of him.
Mr. Furley: I am not!
Janet: Oh, yes, you are.
Mr. Furley: I complain all the time—you should see some of the letters I’ve written. I’ve told him what a cheapskate I think he really is. I’ve called him every name in the book.
Janet: You’ve really told him off in those letters?
Mr. Furley: Darn right, I did, and if he doesn’t shape up, I’m gonna start mailin’ ‘em.
Mr. Furley leaves.
Cindy: Boy, he’s really scared of his brother, isn’t he?
Jack: Yeah, but I’m not.
Jack starts looking in the phonebook.
Janet: What’re you doing?
Jack: I’m trying to get some action around here. Let’s see…Fuller, Fullman, Furley.
Janet: Jack, come one, you’re not gonna call Bart Furley, are you?
Jack starts dialing Bart Furley.
Jack: Janet, you’ve gotta learn one thing. You don’t get anything in this life unless you ask for it.
Janet: But J—
Jack: Hello, I’d like to speak to Mr. Furley, please.
Jack turns to Janet.
Jack: If you see something you want, you’ve gotta go out there and grab it! Nothing is gonna be handed to you on a silver platter, I al—
Jack start talking on the phone.
Jack: Mr. Furley, there’s something I want you to hear. Tell him, Cindy.
Jack hands the phone to Cindy.
Cindy: Is this Mr. Furley? Bart Furley?! Tell him, Janet.
Cindy hands the phone to Janet.
Janet: Uh—hi, there. Um, hi, Mr. Furley. I’m one of the tenants who lives in the building that your brother manages. And um, okay look, he says he can’t fix anything around here because you don’t give him enough money to fix it, so why don’t you help him out and—what? You will? Oh, thank you.
Janet: Sure, bye.
Cindy: Well, what did he say?
Janet: He said he was gonna take care of it right away.
Jack: You see now Janet. You don’t get anything in life without asking for it.
Janet: You’re asking for it.
Janet punches Jack on the chest.
Jack: Gosh, wait till Mr. Furley hears the good news.
Janet: No, no, no, no. We can’t say anything to him.
Jack: That’s—why can’t we say anything?
Janet: Because then he would know that we called his brother.
Cindy: Well, what do we say?
Janet: We just don’t say anything. We just wait, and he’ll tell us, and we’ll act surprised.
Cindy: Oh, good! I’m good at that!
Cindy: Oh, I’ll get it. Mr. Furley. What a surprise!
Mr. Furley: I just got a phone call from my brother Bart.
Janet: Wowie. What? Another surprise?
Mr. Furley: He told me I was fired.
Jack: He what?!
Mr. Furley: One of the tenants called him and complained about me.
Cindy: He didn’t tell you which tenant, did he?
Mr. Furley: No, but I know who it was.
Jack: Y-you do?
Mr. Furley: Yeah, Mrs. Simpson in 208, she hates me.
Janet: No, Mr. Furley, it wasn’t Mrs. Simpson.
Mr. Furley: It wasn’t? How do you know?
Jack pulls Janet and hugs her just so she can’t speak.
Jack: Because it was probably Mrs. Adams in 206. She hates you even more.
Mr. Furley: What am I gonna do now?
Cindy: Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Furley. You’ll find another job.
Mr. Furley: Where? I’m all out of brothers. That’s not the worst of it.
Janet: Oh, what does that mean, Mr. Furley?
Mr. Furley: Well, you see, my apartment went with the job. Now, I’ve got no place to live.
Jack: I’m sure your brother will let you stay until you find another job.
Mr. Furley: Are you kidding, he’s already got someone on his way over here to change the locks.
Jack: Well, you can always stay in a motel.
Mr. Furley: A motel, sure. I got enough money saved to last me the rest of my life…if I die tomorrow.
Mr. Furley cries on Cindy’s shoulder.
Cindy: Gee, Mr. Furley, we’d let you spend the night here, but—
Mr. Furley: Thank you! Oh, that means so much to me.
Jack signals to Cindy by shaking his head.
Janet: No, no, no, no. No, no, no. No. Mr. Furley, the reason you couldn’t is—is that there wouldn’t be anywhere for you to sleep, except this crummy, lumpy couch.
Mr. Furley: Oh, but I love lumps. I’m a lump lover.
Jack: Uh, see Mr. Furley—
Mr. Furley: Oh, you are such great friends.
Mr. Furley hugs Cindy and Janet.
Mr. Furley: Oh, you kids. Well, I guess if we’re gonna be roomies, I better start packin’.
Janet: Well, uh—okay, all right, all right, all right. It’s just for one night.
Mr. Furley: And don’t you worry, I won’t be a burden. I should be back on my feet within a couple of months.
Jack: A couple of months?
Bart Furley is in his office talking on the phone.
Bart Furley: What’s that you say? Charlie, you mean they’re complaining about having to work seven days a week? I’ll tell you what. Tell you what. You tell ‘em I’m gonna give ‘em all a day off—as soon as there are eight days a week.
The secretary enters Bart Furley’s office.
Bart Furley: What is it, Sickle?
Sickle: A Mr. Tripper. Something about your apartment building in Santa Monica.
Bart Furley: Oh, yeah, he’s probably here to apply for the manager’s job. Send him in.
Sickle: Mr. Tripper?
Jack: Oh, yes, thank you. Mr. Furley, glad to meet you. Don’t get up.
Bart Furley: I am up. I’m a very, very busy man.
Jack: Yes, sir, I’ll make this short—I mean, I’ll get to why I’m here.
Bart Furley: I know why you’re here.
Jack: You do?
Bart Furley: Yeah, it’s about the apartment manager’s job.
Jack: That’s right!
Bart Furley: Sit down, Flipper.
Jack: Uh, “Tripper”.
Bart Furley: Just sit down.
Jack: Yes, sir.
Jack sits on the chair and falls right in, while Bart Furley sits on his desk.
Bart Furley: You comfy?
Jack: Comfy. Thanks, it’s nice.
Bart Furley: The manager’s job is a cinch. Any idiot can do it.
Jack: Yeah, I knew the last idiot—I mean, the last manager, your brother, Ralph.
Bart Furley: Are you a friend of his?
Jack: Well, well, sort of, but if he ever found out that I came to see you about this, he would never forgive me.
Bart Furley: Uh-huh, so you’re sneakin’ around behind his back. I like that.
Jack: Hang on a second, that’s not—
Jack tries to get up the chair, but is stuck.
Jack: That’s not—
Jack wiggles his way out of the cinch chair.
Jack: Excuse me. About your brother—
Bart Furley: About my brother! You know what he’s good for?
Bart Furley: Neither do I.
Jack: He can’t be that bad.
Bart Furley: He’s worse: every job Ralph has ever had, I’ve given him.
Jack: Well, that’s very big of you. I, well—I mean, that’s very generous.
Jack squats on the floor. So he’s eye-to-eye with Bart Furley.
Bart Furley: Look, all he ever has to do is collect the rent, turn a couple of screws, and keep an eye on the place. Does that sound too difficult to you?
Jack: Well, no.
Bart Furley: Good, you’re hired.
Jack stands up.
Jack: Wait, wait, no, I didn’t come here about the job. I came to talk about your brother and the importance of your own family.
Bart Furley: Sit down, Zipper.
Jack returns to his seat, while Bart Furley talks on the intercom.
Bart Furley: Hello? Yes, I’ll take the call.
Jack slowly sits on the cinch chair.
Bart Furley: Oh, it’s you again! Is it?! How many times do I have to tell you, I did not get rich by giving handouts to every Tom, Dick and Harry that comes to me with a sob story like yours? Oh, stop blubbering, you’ll get it, but I’m telling you one thing, you’d better start pulling your weight around here! Yeah, I know mom, I love you too.
Jack is shocked.
Bart Furley: Now, you were saying?
Jack: Oh, forget it. I ju—
Jack struggles to get off the chair, but fails. He stands up with the chair stuck on his but and walks out of the office.
Back at the apartment.
Janet: You’re what?
Cindy: You’re the new manager?
Jack: I know it sounds bad, but, see—
Janet: Jack, how could you stoop so low?
Jack: You haven’t met Bart Furley.
Jack shows them how short he is.
Jack: It’s the only way you can talk to the guy.
Janet: And just what are you planning on serving Mr.Furley for dinner tonight, eggs Benedict Arnold?
Jack: Look, I did it for Furley’s sake.
Cindy: Oh, and he’s gonna be so grateful.
Jack: If his brother hadn’t hired me to do the job, he would’ve hired somebody else, and then Furley would never get his old job back.
Janet: I can’t wait for you to tell Mr. Furley that.
Jack: I will, the first chance I get.
Jack opens the door.
Mr. Furley: Hi.
Mr. Furley enters the apartment wearing all his hats and carrying his suits and a luggage.
Mr. Furley: Hi, roomies.
Jack: Mr. Furley—
Mr. Furley: Now look, I don’t wanna be a bother, so I’ll put all this away myself.
Jack: No, but Mr. Furley.
Mr. Furley: All right, if you insist, you can hang these suits up for me.
Jack goes to his room to hang Mr. Furley’s suits.
Janet: Look, Mr. Furley.
Mr. Furley: I know, Janet, equal rights for women, right? Here, would you just run an iron over that shirt for me?
Janet: Mr. Furley, I—
Mr. Furley: I need it tonight. I don’t want to look like a slob when I sit down to have dinner with you kids.
Cindy: Mr. Furley—
Mr. Furley: Oh, Cindy. I didn’t mean to leave you out. Here you go. Put that away.
Mr. Furley hands Cindy his luggage. Cindy could barely carry it.
Mr. Furley: I’ll be right back.
Janet: Wait a minute—
Cindy walks to Jack’s bedroom and bumps into Jack.
Jack: Whoa, oh!
Janet: Why didn’t you say anything, Jack?
Jack: I had to hang up the man’s suits.
Janet: Oh, Jack! Tell him—tell him now, Jack. Tell him now.
Mr. Furley returns carrying an ugly wall décor.
Mr. Furley: Here’s a little gift for you, a token of my appreciation. Genuine North Sea Herring.
Jack: Well, Mr. Furley—
Mr. Furley: No, don’t thank me. Let me hang it for you. Brighten up the room.
Janet: Hang on a second, Mr. Furley. Jack has something that he wants to tell you.
Mr. Furley: Ooh, I have something for Jack too.
Mr. Furley takes out from his pocket a piece of paper.
Jack: What’s this?
Mr. Furley: That’s a list of things I can’t eat. I just blow up like a balloon, you know. I get great big, red blotches all over.
Janet: Never mind, I’ll tell him myself.
Janet pushes Jack out of the way.
Mr. Furley: Tell me what?
Janet: I don’t really know how to say this.
Mr. Furley: Well, you can say anything you want. I mean,if it wasn’t for you kids, I’d be out in the street.
Janet: Mr. Furley—
Mr. Furley: Honest, you’re my best friends.
Janet: Uh-huh. Yeah, it’s about your sleeping on the sofa.
Mr. Furley: As a matter of fact, you’re the only friends I have. Now, what about the sofa?
Janet: Uh, it’s too lumpy. You can have Jack’s room.
Janet bangs on the bathroom door.
Janet: Come on, Mr. Furley. Would you hurry it up a little?
Jack comes out of the kitchen holding a piece of his pie.
Jack: Janet did you eat my banana cream pie?
Janet: I didn’t touch your banana cream pie.
Jack: Cindy! Cindy, did you eat this pie?
Janet: What pie?
Jack: The one I made especially for Joannie Welsh. She said she’d give anything for one of my banana cream pies.
Janet: I’ve seen Joannie Welsh, Jack. She doesn’t have that much to give.
Mr. Furley comes out of the bathroom.
Mr. Furley: Okay, Janet, the bathroom’s all yours.
Janet: You could’ve fooled me.
Mr. Furley: Good morning, Jack.
Jack: Mr. Furley.
Mr. Furley wipes off the cream stuck on the platter with his finger.
Mr. Furley: Oh, I love that pie. Mmm!
Jack: You—you ate my pie?
Mr. Furley: Mmm,good. Crust was a little soggy, but otherwise, very good.
Janet comes out of the bathroom.
Janet: There is no hot water.
Mr. Furley: Gee, that’s funny, there was plenty when I took my shower.
Janet prepares to punch Mr. Furley as he walks away, but decides not to.
Mr. Furley walks up to his bedroom door where he hung the ugly wall décor.
Mr. Furley: Love this fish.
Janet: How long has that man been living here, Jack? A month? Two?
Jack: A day and a half.
Janet: Oh, he’s driving me crazy!
Cindy: Yeah, he used up my eye shadow.
Janet: Your eyes shadow?
Cindy: To polish his shoes.
Janet: You have got to do something about him, Jack.
Jack: Janet, I can’t just throw him out.
Mr. Furley steps out of his room with a banjo in hand and starts singin.
Mr. Furley: “Comin’ ‘round the mountain when she comes, when she comes.
Jack: Let’s throw him out.
Mr. Furley: She’ll be comin’ ‘round the mountain when she comes…
Janet: Mr. Furley.
Mr. Furley: Fooled ya, didn’t I? Didn’t know I could play, did ya?
Mr. Furley: Now I wanna sing you a little song that I wrote especially for this cute little nurse I used to date.
Jack: Mr. Furley—
Mr. Furley: “Fever!”
The three gets startled.
Mr. Furley: “She gave me fever! When that chick went into the room. I could feel my temperature zoom. Fever! She gave me fever!”
Mr. Furley imitates a musical instrument.
Mr. Furley: “Fever, fever, fever.”
Jack stands up and tries to get his attention, but Mr. Furley starts punching in the air.
Jack: Mr. Fever—Mr. Furley, Mr. Furley, can I ask you something?
Mr. Furley: You name it, I’ll play it.
Jack: No, no, no. I don’t want you to do that. No, you see, there is a—
Janet and Cndy stands up.
Janet: What Jack is trying to say is that he, well, that we—that he—oh, Mr. Furley, wouldn’t you like to get another job?
Mr. Furley: No, the only job I want is the one I had: being manager of this building.
Janet: But Mr. Furley—
Mr. Furley: And I’ll tell you somethin’ else. My brother Bart is gonna have to look long and hard to find somebody to replace me.
Cindy: I’ll get it.
Mr. Furley: A person of my experience. Boy, sooner or later, he’s gonna come crawling on hands and knees just beggin’ me to take that job back.
Cindy: Hello? Oh, yeah, he’s right here. It’s your brother, Bart.
Mr. Furley: What’d I tell ya, huh?
Mr. Furley chuckles.
Mr. Furley: Hold this.
Mr. Furley hands his banjo to Cindy.
Mr. Furley: Give me that.
Cindy hands Mr. Furley the phone.
Mr.Furley: Ah, okay, Bart, baby, start crawlin’. Whoops, it was just a little joke, Bart. Uh, Bart, see, I’m here with friends, so I was k-k-kidding around—what? I should give the keys to the new manager?
Janet is terrified and hides behind Jack.
Mr. Furley: What new manager? Jack Tripper?!
Jack: Hang on a second, it sounds much worse than it actually is.
Mr. Furley is in shock.
Janet: Mr. Furley. Mr. Furley? Mr.Furley, please, we can explain.
Cindy: Yeah, Jack didn’t mean to stab you in the back.
Jack: She’s right.
Mr. Furley gives Jack a piercing look.
Jack: Excuse me, Cindy, why don’t you leave a wake-up call? Let me handle this, okay? Mr. Furley…
Mr. Furley’s gaze intensifies.
Jack: Look, I don’t want your job. I want you to have your job back, you see? But what I was—Mr. Furley—
Cindy: Mr. Furley, where are you going?
Mr. Furley: I’m going to apply for social security.
Janet: But you can’t collect that ‘til you’re 65.
Mr. Furley: I’ll get in line and wait.
Janet: Oh, Mr. Furley, please, why don’t you just ask your brother to give you your job back?
Mr. Furley: No, he won’t do that. Once my brother makes up his mind, he never changes it.
Mr. Furley: Never. Twice.
Mr. Furley: Yeah, when we were little kids, my brother Bart grabbed my “Little Orphan Annie” spy ring away from me, and he wouldn’t give it back till I chased him into an elevator.
Janet: What happened then?
Mr. Furley: Well, the elevator got stuck between floors, and he got so scared, he gave the ring back to me.
Cindy: Well, see, your brother can change his mind. He gave you back your spy ring.
Mr. Furley: Yeah, but only because he was scared to death. That’s when I found out he was suffering from closet-phobia.
Jack: You mean, claustrophobia.
Mr. Furley: That, too. Anyway, ever since then, he’s been petrified of elevators.
Janet: Well, you said your brother has changed his mind twice. What was the other time?
Mr. Furley: When we got out of the elevator, he took my spy ring back again.
Mr. Furley starts to cry and puts his head on Janet’s shoulder.
Janet: Oh, there, there, Mr. Furley, don’t feel bad.
Mr. Furley cries on Cindy’s shoulder.
Cindy: We’ll find you another spy ring.
Jack: Hey, w-wait a second. You just gave me an idea. Come one, we’re gonna go see your brother.
Mr. Furley: Oh, forget it. He won’t have the ring anymore.
Jack: Forget “Little Orphan Annie”. I’ve got an idea to get your job back.
Mr. Furley: You do? How can we get his job back?
The four huddle.
Jack: Listen, listen.
Janet, Cindy, Jack and Mr. Furley hide behind newspapers and wait by the elevator.
Janet: Jack, how long do we have to do this? My arms are getting tired.
Jack: Just until Bart leaves his office, which should be any minute now.
Cindy starts laughing.
Janet: Shh. What are you doing?
Cindy: Reading the funnies.
Mr. Furley: Cindy, you wanna trade with me? These want ads are depressing.
Jack: Wait, you’re not supposed to be reading. You’re supposed to be hiding. Shh, here he comes now. Janet, hit the button quick.
The elevator door opens.
Bart Furley: Excuse me.
Bart Furley rides the elevator. Cindy, Janet and Jack follow him inside. Mr. Furley follows, but the elevator door closes before he gets in. Jack opens the elevator door and pulls Mr. Furley inside.
Jack: Going down?
Bart Furley: What’re you doing here, Zipper?
Jack: Tripper, and I’ve come to tell you that I’m resigning as manager from your apartment building.
Cindy: And as tenants, we want you to hire your brother back.
Bart Furley: Why don’t you ask me for somethin’ easy, like a free month’s rent?
Jack: Hey, you’d give us a free month’s rent?
Bart Furley: Sure, after I hire my brother back, which will be right after I play center for the Harlem Globetrotters!
Jack: Okay, then, you leave us no choice.
Jack pulls the emergency brake. Gears grind.
Jack: What do you have to say now?
Cindy: About the elevator being stuck between floors.
Janet: We’re trapped, you know.
Mr. Furley: Feels like the walls are closing in, doesn’t it?
Bart Furley: What’re you doin’ here? Don’t change the subject. It’s getting hard to breathe in here, isn’t it?
Bart Furley: Why?
Mr. Furley: Because! You’re scared to death of elevators.
Bart Furley: Not anymore, I’m not.
Jack: Y-y-you’re not?
Bart Furley: No, not ever since I went to a shrink. He told me to buy my own elevator. So, I bought the building.
Mr. Furley: You mean, you’re cured?
Bart Furley: Yeah.
Mr. Furley: You and your stupid ideas! I told you it wouldn’t work. Bart, I’m sorry. They put me up to it.
Mr. Furley kneels in front of Bart Furley.
Bart Furley: Get up, you sniveling coward! All right, Gaffer, open this door. Everybody, off the elevator!
Jack tries to reactivate the elevator.
Jack: Uh—huh—I-I’m sorry, I think we’re really stuck.
Mr. Furley: Stuck? Stuck? It can’t be! We’re stuck! I can’t—no! I—it feels like the walls are closing in. I gotta get outta here! I can’t stand closed places. There’s a trap door at the top. Quick, push me up!
Jack: Yes, sir!
Jack carries Mr. Furley.
Mr. Furley: Down, down, down, down! I can’t stand heights, either.
Janet: Mr. Furley, relax.
Mr. Furley: Relax? Sure, it’s easy for you to say. You’re not trapped in an elevator. Help! Help! Help!
Bart Furley: Will you get a hold of yourself, you spineless jellyfish!
Janet: You can’t talk to him like that!
Cindy: That’s right! He may be spineless, but he’s our friend.
Jack: Give Mr. Furley, another ch—
Bart Furley: Can it, Topper.
Bart Furley: Look, I want everybody outta this elevator, and then I want everyone of you out of my apartment, understand?
Janet: We didn’t do anything.
Jack: You can’t throw us out!
Bart Furley: Who’s gonna stop me?
Mr. Furley: I am!
Bart Furley: You?
Bart Furley cackling.
Mr. Furley: That’s right, you can pick on me, but you can’t pick on my friends.
Bart Furley: What?
Bart Furley continues cackling.
Mr. Furley: Shut up, Shorty! So help me, if you throw them out, I’ll have the housing commission down on you so fast, you won’t know what happened.
Bart Furley: You wouldn’t, listen, Ralphie—
Mr. Furley: Oh, yes, I would. I’ll tell ‘em about the 20 health violations…
Bart Furley: No…
Mr. Furley: And the 30 safety violations.
Bart Furley: Ralphie, wait!
Mr. Furley: No, you wait, Weasel! It’ll cost you plently.
Bart Furley: No!
Mr. Furley: Fines!
Bart Furley: No.
Mr. Furley; Lawyers! Plumbers!
Bart Furley: Oh, no!
Mr. Furley: Unions!
Bart Furley: Not unions!
Bart Furley kneels down in front of Mr. Furley.
Mr. Furley: Money, money, money, money! What do you say to that?!
Bart Furley screams and clutches Mr. Furley.
Bart Furley: Oh, Ralphie, have mercy! We have the same mother.
Mr. Furley; It’s not my fault.
Bart Furley: Ralphie, Ralphie, old sock, this is just a big misunderstanding. If you want these wonderful kids to stay in the apartment, they can stay.
Janet: What about Mr. Furley’s job?
Jack: Yeah, what about that?!
Bart Furley: If I’d have known he wanted it so bad, I never would’ve let him quit.
Jack, Janet, Cindy and Mr. Furley all rejoice.
Mr. Furley: Thank you. One more thing, Bart—I want a raise.
Bart Furley: Don’t push it, Ralph.
Mr. Furley: Okay, just kidding.
Elevator starts humming.
Janet: Hey, we’re moving. Mr. Furley, congratulations on getting’ your job back.
Mr. Furley: Thank you.
Cindy: Yeah, now you can move back in your own apartment.
Jack: Yeah, but, you know, we’ll miss ya.
Mr. Furley: No, you won’t.
Jack: Well, how could you—won’t we miss him?
Janet and Cindy: Of course, we’ll miss you.
Jack: Did you hear that? How can you say we won’t miss you?
Mr. Furley: Because I’m having my apartment repainted, and I think we’re gonna be roomies for at least two more weeks.
Back at the apartment, Mr. Furley plays the Ukelele.
Mr. Furley: One more time! “Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O”
Jack: Mr. Furley, Mr. Furley—
Mr. Furley: What’s the matter?
Jack: Don’t you think you could be doing some things?
Janet: Yeah, Mr. Furley, like fixing the door?
Cindy: And the kitchen light?
Jack: And sanding the floor?
Mr. Furley: Relax, kids, I told you I was gonna take care of those things, and I will.
Mr. Furley starts singing again.
Mr.Furley:”I’m gonna fix up the door, I’m gonna sand your floor, I’m gonna fill you with light”
Jack: Well, that would be terrific.
Janet: That would be terrific, but where’re you gonna get the money?
Mr. Furley: Oh, I solved that little problem, too.
Mr. Furley starts singing.
Mr. Furley: “Money’s no problem, ladies and gent. I talked to Bart and we’re raisin’ your rent”. All together now!
This is not the actual script. This is my own transcription of the episode. The “Furley vs. Furley” episode was written by Michael S. Baser and Kim Weiskopf. Three’s Company is a registered Service Mark of Three’s Company (California Joint Venture of The NRW Company and T.T.C. Productions, Inc.)
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