Narrator: Lucille was worried that her son Buster was being sent into battle with the army.
Oscar: I feel that we’ve not brought something up that might be a solution, to spare my feelings.
Lucille: Send you in his place? I called, they don’t want you back.
Narrator: Oscar had served in Vietnam as a croc spotter on a swift boat.
Oscar: Croc! No, sorry, wait... Log... (Mumbling.) Or, no! Wait! Sorry... Croc!
Narrator: It was there that he met a young USO dancer named Lucille.
Oscar: I swore I’d never say his name again, but it’s time to call you know who.
Narrator: “You know who” was an army sergeant named Bill Anderson. He and Lucille were an item, before she left him for Oscar. At the studio, Tobias began to create buzz around the water cooler.
Tobias: That Fünke is some kind of something. Boy, this Fünke is all anybody’s ever talking about. I’m so sick and tired of hearing about how brilliant that Fünke is. Overrated.
Narrator: Meanwhile, Maeby looked for an empty office to call George Michael.
Maeby: Where are you? I bought you a day. I can’t put this book report off forever.
Jeff: Sorry, is this your office?
Maeby: No, I’m just sitting behind someone else’s desk, pretending these are my kids. Can you get Jude Law in here for a meeting?
Jeff: Oh, I’m just a reader.
Maeby: A reader?
Maeby: I need a report by tomorrow, before gym... Lunch with Jim... Carrey. He’s the Grinch guy. You’re too young.
G.O.B.: So get this. Sitwell loved my ideas.
Michael: My ideas, and I knew it! That’s great. You know, Dad never complimented any of those.
G.O.B.: Here’s the thing. I need more.
Michael: There were 34 proposals in there.
G.O.B.: You’d be amazed how fast they come out when you read them all in a row.
G.O.B.: “31. Bamboo floor upgrades— cheaper, stronger.” I can’t read this word. “32. Wireless ‘crapability.’ ” That one explains itself. “33.”
Michael: G.O.B., that was six months worth of work. You can’t just blurt them all out at once.
Stan Sitwell: Mr. Bluth!
G.O.B.: He’s coming. I’ve got to go.
Stan Sitwell: You blew them away. Bought you something. Maybe we can play catch sometime.
Narrator: G.O.B.’s own father had only once played catch with him, and it ended as badly as any game of catch could end.
White Power Bill: White Power!
Stan Sitwell: Better yet, maybe we can play ball on Saturday. I’ll meet you there. I’ve got a neck hair fitting at 11:00.
Narrator: G.O.B. was both angry... and overwhelmed by the approval from this new father figure. It was confusing. Michael was less torn and went to brag to his father.
Michael: So, apparently my ideas aren’t so bad and that comes from Sitwell himself.
George, Sr.: You let your ideas go to Sitwell?