Michael: You just had Dad on the phone? Where was he?
G.O.B.: No way to tell, really; Portugal, (Mumbling.) down South America way...
Michael: Well, did he want to talk to me?
G.O.B.: No. He wanted to talk to the president.
Michael: I have no problem with that.
Narrator: Michael was also hurt. And George Sr. was brutally hurt when he was mistaken for his twin brother, Oscar.
Federale: ¡Por la venta la marijuana!
George, Sr.: Marijuana? No, no, that’s my brother. “Brothero. Brothero.”
Narrator: That night, Lindsay headed to the club to try again to meet someone. Soon, having struck out again, she spotted a man who looked interesting. He had the lean look, effortless hair and dressed down manner of a movie star.
Tom Jane: Buy me a drink?
Lindsay: I think the bars are closing.
Tom Jane: I know a place.
Narrator: It was at that point that Lindsay had a startling revelation.
Foreign Cashier: Uh, uh, uh, get out, get out, get out! Out, out, out, out! No homeless in here.
Tom Jane: Oh.
Lucille: Oh, God.
Buster: They’re taking me in the Army. They didn’t think there was enough wrong with me.
Lucille: Well, did they check everything?
Buster: Yes! They even touched my Charlie Browns. You lied to me. You said I wasn’t fit to serve!
Oscar: All right, let’s calm down, people. Um, I think I know a little bit about avoiding combat duty. Now, which pinky do you use less?
Lucille: Are you nuts?! Do you know what I went through to have this boy?
Oscar: Oh, I know where the boy came from.
Buster: Wait. Why were you in the pantry?
Narrator: And Lucille realized it was time to end whatever it was she had with Oscar. The next day, Michael was ready to wow the board with his new business model.
Michael: As I told my brother, the president, if we start construction on a second model home, we can be cutting this ribbon within two months.
G.O.B.: And I said, “That’s why you’re no longer president. Two weeks! Let’s do it in two weeks!” Hey!!!
Michael: No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Could we stop the music? I’m not as optimistic that we can get that done. G.O.B., I think we both agreed that we would do things your way if you had a business model. Do you have a business model?
G.O.B.: I am so happy that you asked me that, Michael, because I just happen to have a business model right here. Meet Starla, the new Bluth Company business model for our Phase Two campaign!
Starla: Bluth Homes— Solid as a Rock.
G.O.B.: We’ll see you at the ribbon-cutting in two weeks! If my brother doesn’t screw it up first. Hey!!!
Narrator: G.O.B. had just committed Michael to building a model home in two weeks.
Michael: We can’t build a house in two weeks. Also, I’m not so sure how “solid as a rock” helps people forget the fact that we built houses in Iraq.
G.O.B.: I love that.
Michael: But you probably know best, because...
G.O.B.: We don’t have to build a real house, Michael. Like you said, it’s all for appearances anyway. We throw up a couple of walls... We build a fake one.
Michael: What are you talking about?
G.O.B.: Nothing on the inside.
Michael: I’ll never get a crew to build it. They’d lose their licenses.
G.O.B.: Then you build it yourself, damn it! Hey, there she is. My little business model. Sorry about that “build it yourself” crap. I was thinking I might take her to the ribbon cutting. You end up finding a date yet?