Hey, here's a positive message to the youth of America.
You know, don't study. Play football.
I mean, after all, some dumb running back from Illiterate State University
just signed an 85 million-dollar contract.
But can he add? No.
Subtract? No.
Can he even write his own name?
Hey, come on, he doesn't have to.
All he needs is for somebody to pry the beer can out of his beefy hand,
slap in a crayon and show him where to mark the X.
Hey, buddy, what's your problem?
I'll tell you what my problem is.
A bunch of overpaid, overfed pituitary freaks
standing around in ladies' pants, blowing in their hands like:
"Ooh, it's cold out here," while the rest of the world
showers them with money, applause and sneaker endorsements.
Yeah, I'm betting this isn't the first time you've come in this place
spouting your mouth off on a subject you knew nothing about.
You got that right. Yesterday, he came in...
Hey, I'm talking here.
You don't know the first damn thing about football.
You don't know what it's like to wake up in so much pain,
you don't know if you can get out of bed,
go out onto a practise field.
And at best, you've got a what? A five-year career?
That is if you don't have a career-ending injury your first game.
The last thing you need is some big-mouth,
candied-ass, knock-kneed dork crapping all over your profession.
And by the way,
I'm very self-conscious about these beefy hands.
Do you believe that guy?
Believe him? I love him.
Mrs. Collins, I want you to go home and relax.
I'll have a better idea what's causing your rapid heartbeat
once I get all your lab tests back.
In the meantime, I want you to avoid anything overly stimulating.
Well, do the best you can. Goodbye.
Was that Mrs. Collins?
I wanna thank her for bringing in
the herbal tea and the sugar-free cookies.
This diet is killing me.
- You're on a diet? - No, Margaret is.
And between you and me, it's making her a real B-l-T-C...
See what Mrs. Collins brought you?
All sugarless.
And tasteless. Get them away from me.
Well, you don't have to bite my head off.
Like I need more empty calories.
Excuse me, are you Dr. John Becker?
Yup. Try as I might, no one else wants the job.
Ha, ha, my name is Janet Katz.
I work in a nursing home in Philadelphia.
And, well, there's never a good way to say this.
A former patient of yours, Harry Grandstapf,
recently passed away.
I'm sorry. I know you were close.
Grandstapf?
He was such a sweet man.
And he was always talking about you.
No one was ever as smart, kind or understanding as Dr. Becker.
So he was delirious at the end.
- Grandstapf. I really have no idea. - He named you in his will.
Any idea how I'm gonna make it through the day
knowing that...
So, what did Dr. Becker get?
Oh, my Lord.
His ashes? He left me his ashes?
I guess he felt you'd know the right thing to do with them.
Wait, are you saying there's a dead guy in there?
Linda, show a little respect.
Sorry.
But he is in there, right?
- Why me? What about his family? - He had no one left.
- There was just you and me. - What about you?
It doesn't seem fair that I get to keep this,
and you walk away empty-handed.
Actually, uh, Harry left me a rather nice sum of money.
You got the money, I got the ashes?
- John. - I'm not saying it's not an honour.
I'm just wondering what I did to deserve it, that's all.
Oh, where are my manners? Would you like a cup of coffee?
Oh, thank you, but I've got to get to the airport.
Thanks to Harry, I'm finally gonna get to see Italy.
Goodbye, Dr. Becker.
I'll enjoy the trip so much more now that I know Harry's in good hands.
All right, thank you. Um, have fun.
Now don't worry. I'll take good care of Harry.
Okay.
Throw that away for me, will you?
John, this man was a patient.
He liked you, and he trusted you with his remains.
You can't just toss him in the trash.
Well, we can't leave him on the counter.
It's kind of bad for business.
I want him out of here by the time I get back from lunch.
Well, what do you expect me to do?
Flush him down the toilet like Linda's goldfish?
Hey. You told me Goldie went to live on a farm.
John, his soul may have gone to heaven,
but he still deserves to be treated with dignity.
So say a prayer, then flush him.
Linda, go back to that game of chance you call a filing system
and see if you can find Mr. Grandstapf's file.
Maybe it will give us a clue about what to do with him.
It doesn't matter who Harry was, because this is not Harry.
Come on, just toss him in the trash.
Oh, no, no, no. You're so heartless, you do it.
You take the body of that kind old man, and you just toss him in the trash
with the candy wrappers and the cookie crumbs.
Diet's working out well, I see.
Mind your own business.
Go ahead, John.
Go ahead. Throw him away.
What's the matter? You said it yourself, it's not really Harry.
All right, fine. All right, Margaret.
- I knew you couldn't do it. Oh, I can.
I'm just not gonna do it here, or you'll never let me hear the end of it.
I'm gonna toss it in a dumpster.
There are people who eat out of dumpsters.
Circle of life, Margaret, circle of life.
Mike, I was thinking about what we could do this weekend,
and I came up with a great idea.
Oh, yeah? What's that?
Well, there's this new exhibit at the Whitney, and I'm dying to see it.
- And I thought we could go. - A museum? Get real.
Maybe a movie.
I love movies. Saturday night?
Saturday? I'm supposed to go to Jim's to catch the Knick game.
But just leave it open, and I'll let you know.
Oh, um, I'm gonna be home tonight.
Good.
Bye.
- What is wrong with you? - What are you talking about?
It may be none of my business, but Mike treats you like dirt.
And what's worse is that you let him.
Look, I'll admit Mike's a little self-involved.
But I don't care. I like him.
Wait a minute.
He's really good-Iooking, isn't he?
I could lick his face like a Dove bar.
Jake, Reg, coffee, please.
What's that?
Some patient of mine died, left me his ashes.
Ew, Becker, get it off the counter.
It's not sanitary.
Reg, he's dead. Your counter can't hurt him now.
You're carrying around a dead man?
What's the matter with everyone?
You know, this is no more still a man
than that burger you're eating is still a horse.
Greetings, sweathogs.
Hey, I got your message about fixing your refrigerator.
- So did you fix it? - You're on the list.
- What list? - Okay, you got me. There's no list.
So, what's in the cookie jar?
One of his patients.
Yeah, he left me his ashes.
Too bad. If he left his whole body, you could drive in the carpool lane.
I tried to throw it in a dumpster, but the bums kept staring at me.
With the garbage? That's pretty cold, John.
Why did he pick you?
Apparently, because I'm kind and understanding.
So he was delirious at the end.
- He deserves better than a dumpster. - What's the difference?
- Would you like to be in the trash? - I could care less.
All I know is, I don't want my funeral to be sad.
I want a big party with people drinking, laughing, having a good time.
I don't think you'll have to worry about that, Bob.
So how about you, John?
- Yeah, I'd go to that party. Ha, ha, one thing I do know.
I want a big funeral where people come and celebrate my life,
and talk about all the great things I've done.
Man, I gotta start doing some great things.
You know, you people just don't get it. It doesn't matter, you know.
As far as I'm concerned, plant me, fry me, shoot me into space.
You know, the human body is just a package, a shell.
- It's nothing. - But what about the soul?
Fine. Play Gladys Knight when I die.
How about you, Reg? Got any special plans?
I'm with Becker.
What anyone wants to do with my body is fine with me.
Oh, the nights Bob has spent dreaming of hearing you say that.
After I'm dead.
And even then, I don't wanna be alone with you.
I mean that.
Yeah, the name's Collins, Susan Collins.
I'm trying to determine the cause of an irregular heartbeat,
so I need a rush on the blood work.
What do you mean, what do I mean? I mean, right away, in a hurry, rush.
Don't you people have a word for that in your language?
Well, that's the problem. You need a shorter word for "rush."
Yeah, and I need those blood tests back immediately.
Please tell me you're not using Mr. Grandstapf's remains
as a paperweight.
- Not just as a paperweight. - Oh!
- Walnut? - I can't, I'm on a diet.
And you are terrible.
You came in here for a reason, right?
Yes, I found a memorial park that'll take him off your hands.
Oh, good. How soon?
As soon as you write a cheque for $750.
For a hole in the wall?
Plus 250 for perpetual care.
Oh, come on, he's dust. What are they gonna do? Dust?
Look, I got you the information.
Use it, don't use it. I really don't give a damn.
Just don't start with me.
You know, you're a real pain when you're on a diet.
Well, at least I have an excuse.
Linda, why aren't you looking for Mr. Grandstapf's chart?
Why bother?
If I find it, is it gonna make him any less dead?
It's all so pointless.
We're all gonna wind up like that.
I mean, in the end,
what's the difference between him and me?
Well, for starters, he's useful.
You see that? You see what he's doing to morale around here?
You know, the last thing Linda needs is another excuse not to work.
I'm gonna get rid of him.
- Where? - I don't know.
I'll leave him in a cab somewhere.
Oh, why waste cab fare?
Why don't you just leave him on the subway?
You know something?
That's a good idea. Thanks, Margaret.
John, even somebody like you
wouldn't leave a dead man riding around on a subway.
Oh, come on. It's not like he'd be the only one.
Hey, hey, hey. That's mine, that's mine. Give it back.
Look, there happens to be a dead guy in there.
Have a little respect, please.
Creep.
- More coffee? Please.
Thanks. - Hey, Reg.
Yeah, Mike.
I thought we'd have dinner at my place tonight.
Oh, I'd love to, but you know I have Psych class on Monday night.
Skip it.
Well, I guess I could get notes from someone.
- Great. I'll order from Giordano's? - Okay.
You can stop by and pick it up on your way over.
And if I'm a little late, just wait outside.
I'm gonna hit the gym after work.
You believe the way that guy's treating Reggie?
Nobody's that damn handsome.
Hey, you haven't seen this guy. I mean, if Bob were a woman...
Oh, what am I saying?
A guy like that would never look twice at a woman like Bob.
Good morning.
Hey, I thought you were getting rid of Cinderfella.
Becker, get that creepy thing out of here.
You heard her, Bob. Take off.
So, what are you reading?
Oh, doing a little research,
trying to find out what's wrong with a patient of mine.
Just a guess, Quincy,
but I think somebody burned him up and put him in a can.
Not this one.
I have a lady who has an irregular heartbeat.
I don't know what's causing it.
Before anybody says anything, I know how I look, and I don't care.
I'm just gonna end up dead anyways.
So why should I bother taking a shower,
getting dressed or fixing my hair, because...
Later, Reg.
Excuse me.
I think I just found a reason to live.
Sorry, Linda, that's my reason to live.
You are so lucky.
Yeah, too bad you don't have a boyfriend
who orders you around and treats you like dirt.
I do, but he doesn't look like that.
- John, talk to Reg, would you? - Huh? All right, uh...
Coffee and a cheese omelette.
Okay, bad choice. Linda, you're a woman.
Will you tell Reggie she needs more self-esteem?
Would you say his eyes
are more bluish green or greenish blue?
Actually, they're more of a teal.
Did you hear that, Jake?
He has teal eyes.
So even if the way he treats me appears to be bad for my self-esteem,
walking around with a guy that handsome
actually raises my self-esteem.
So the self-esteem factors cancel each other out.
Leaving you with no self-esteem at all.
Exactly.
Look, I know it's not the healthiest relationship,
but Mike has other good qualities besides just being handsome.
Can he make a cheese omelette?
Well, he's not the most considerate guy
I've ever gone out with.
Or the most attentive or the most sensitive.
But I'll tell you what he is.
He's handsome. Really handsome.
And I like him, and I'm gonna keep him.
- Reg. - Oh, come on, just for a little while.
Reg.
Oh, all right, I'll throw him back.
Don't worry, Reg, the perfect guy's out there somewhere.
My perfect guy doesn't exist.
Much like my omelette.
Well, what exactly are you looking for?
Eggs, cheese.
I'm looking for someone who listens, who doesn't criticise,
who doesn't tune you out to watch sports,
and who isn't in the relationship just for sex.
You know anyone like that?
Reg, meet Harry.
Well, I see Harry's back.
I knew you couldn't get rid of him.
I can too, and I'm going to.
The problem's not me. It's the city, you know.
There's not one place in all five boroughs
where you can get rid of a dead guy.
- Damn Giuliani. - Ha, ha.
Oh, you're not fooling me for a second.
You know that that's a human being or was a human being.
And you are too good of a person to just throw him out.
Oh, yeah? First good wind, this guy's in Jersey.
So should I call the memorial park or not?
Oh, all right, I guess so. Go on.
This is insane, you know.
A thousand bucks for a hole in the wall.
It's just insane. You hear me?
You know, I tell you something, Harry. You...
You are more of a pain in the ass dead than you were alive.
At least, I think you are,
because I don't really remember who you were.
Oh, I forgot to tell you.
The lab faxed over Mrs. Collins' test results.
I mean, they look pretty good. What do you think?
This just doesn't make any sense. It's all normal.
There's no reason for her rapid heartbeat.
Well, it's still going on.
- She called a little while ago. - Oh.
Mm. Oh, and, John?
I heard you in here.
Don't talk to the urn.
It's weird.
I was not talking to the urn.
Do you believe her?
You know, Mike, I don't appreciate the way you treat me. I deserve better.
And, frankly, I have too much self-esteem
to continue in this relationship.
Tonight?
Come on, what could it hurt?
Reg.
Sorry, Mike, pick up your own shirts.
All right, Reggie, with the dump up.
Dump up? What are you talking about?
Don't you see? You just dumped a really good-Iooking guy.
So you dumped up.
No one ever dumps up.
- Yeah, I did, didn't I? - Yep.
Only someone who felt really good about themselves could've done that.
You're right. I got rid of a really great-Iooking guy.
So what if I'm all alone.
I'm proud of myself.
You're actually buying this?
Shut up, Bob. It's all I've got.
You know, guys like Mike need to hear the truth more often.
In fact, I'd like to call him and tell him off too.
What's his number?
You just want his number so you can sleep with him, don't you?
Well, yes, but, afterwards, there will be some pretty stern pillow talk.
I just don't get it, Harry.
You know, every one of Mrs. Collins' tests
came back negative.
Electrolytes, CBC.
Hormone levels are fine, so it's not the asthma medication.
Doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, she's always on a diet.
What is it with women and diets anyway?
Diet herbal tea, sugarless cookies, all that crap.
Oh, that's it. Ephedra.
Hey, Margaret.
Thank you, Harry.
- Get... - What is it?
Get Mrs. Collins on the phone, tell her to stop drinking her diet tea.
It's filled with ephedra.
It's reacting with her asthma medication.
- It's making her heart race. - Oh, okay, good.
Oh, John, I'm drinking that tea too.
Should I stop?
Not unless you're being treated for asthma.
Well, could I be, because I really hate that tea.
Margaret, I didn't put you on this diet. You did.
You know, what is it with you women? You wanna end up looking like this?
You wanna quit your diet, quit your diet.
- Amazing. - Okay, you're the doctor.
- I found out who Mr. Grandstapf was. - Finally.
I was looking under D for dead, when I suddenly realised
that he was an O for old guy, and I was like, "Duh."
- Just give me the file, will you? - So then I looked in the O...
"Harry Grandstapf, born 1912, lived on Gerard Avenue,
worked 45 years as a doorman at The Carlyle Hotel."
Of course.
Harry the doorman.
Harry, I am so sorry I forgot you.
You're talking to it again.
No, no, this is not an it, Linda.
This is Harry the doorman.
After he retired, he was coming in here all the time with little ailments,
and I could never find out what was wrong with him.
- Ha, ha. - Well, considering how he ended up,
maybe you should have looked a little harder.
Linda, there was nothing wrong with him except that he was Ionely.
He used to come here for the company.
Here? He was Ionely.
Well, I'm gonna go. I gotta get to the laundry before it closes.
I'm going out with this new guy and I gotta pick up his shirts.
- I can't believe Harry's dead. Oh.
You know, I used to look forward to his visits.
Ha, ha, remember all the stories he used to tell
about the famous people he met?
Yeah, I remember. He told me that Sinatra once tipped him 100 bucks.
- Harry was a good guy. - Yeah.
Well, I guess I'll drop him at the memorial park on my way home.
You know, there's no need for that.
I think I have an idea here.
What?
You're gonna just leave him on the floor?
He's a doorman, you know, just...
Uh, you know, put him back to work.
Harry, I think you're gonna like it here.
Hours are good, the people are nice,
but don't expect a tip from John at Christmas.
Margaret, don't talk to the urn.
It's weird.