S.O.B.s
Written by Jim Vallely and Richard Day.
Lucille: Hello? The caterers didn’t show up. I used the club. They said we owe them too much money. I guess all those lunches... I’ve got 50 people coming in three hours and nothing to feed them. No one to serve it. We have to make a good impression or we’re finished.
Narrator: Now that’s a clear cut situation with a promise of comedy. Tell your friends.
Narrator: The Save Our Bluths Party was starting to heat up. But the same could not be said for Lindsay’s chicken.
G.O.B.: What is going on? They’re getting restless. I can’t offer to bleep him in front of their husbands.
Lucille: This is what you’re making? Poached salmonella?
G.O.B.: Coming through. Chicken in chicken sauce.
Michael: Thank you very much for showing up. Maybe you could just sing while they’re bringing out the dinners.
Andy Richter: Uh, I’m not Andy. I’m Emmitt. Andy sent me over to let you know that he’s not going to be able to make it tonight.
Narrator: Michael was suspicious. I mean, think about it— We can’t show Emmitt without blurring him.
Andy Richter: Yeah, he’s... singing at the Fire & Ice Ball tonight.
George, Sr.: Andy Richter is singing at the Fire & Ice Ball? I should send Andy a little basket of poison muffins, too.
Michael: Muffins? Oh, my God, Dad. You’re the Muffin Man? You poisoned 25 teachers during the ’70s?
George, Sr.: Just the first two. The others were copycats.
Michael: You poisoned Donnie, didn’t you?
George, Sr.: We’re losing them. Come on, come on.
George, Sr.: Have your attention. My son would like to say just a couple of words about me.
Narrator: And that’s when Michael noticed his own son.
Michael: You came, huh?
George Michael: Yeah, well, it was wrong of me to say what I did about how I felt.
Michael: No, you said what you felt. And maybe it’s about time I did the same thing.
George, Sr.: Why don’t we just let him express himself.
Michael: Well, um, I was going to say that you don’t know who my father really is and that what has happened to us is a great injustice, that we were never really given a fair chance. But that’s not the truth. We’ve been given plenty of chances. And maybe the Bluths just aren’t worth saving, maybe we’re not that likable, you know. We’re very self-centered. And my father may be the worst of us. Me, too. You know, I seem to... I threaten people who I don’t feel support me. He poisons them.
Michael: Anyway, here’s my advice to you. Go ahead and take yourself a goody bag and get out of here while you can.
Narrator: The speech was disturbing, the food inedible and the gift bags... pretty frightening. And when G.O.B. realized he wouldn’t get tipped...
G.O.B.: Wait, no, no! Where’s everyone going?
Narrator: ...the service got a little worse.
G.O.B.: No one’s leaving until I get my money! I’ll follow you to your cars!
Narrator: Oh, and then that old racist woman choked on Buster’s thumb.
Buster: My thumb!
