S.O.B.s
Written by Jim Vallely and Richard Day.
Revision: 1.4
Announcer: Tonight: An Arrested Development you can’t miss. A cavalcade of stars. The shocking final moments will be presented live! And one of these people... will die.
Narrator: The Bluth’s were desperate.
- newspaper article
- The Orange County Tribune has the headline “Bob Boblaw Lobs Law Bomb!” with the subheading “Bluths lose attorney, chances of survival slim.”
Michael: I assume you’ve all seen this.
Narrator: The press had them all but finished.
George, Sr.: (On speakerphone.) What, what is it?
Michael: This isn’t really going to work over the phone, Dad.
George, Sr.: Then get Bob Loblaw to hire to hire me another surrogate.
Michael: That’s kind of the point.
Michael: But now we’re going to need a new lawyer. And that is going to mean about a $100,000 retainer. If we want a chance of keeping this family going past the next few weeks, we’re going to have to pull out all the stops.
Michael: What am I talking about? I’m talking about all of you getting jobs. Now the best place to look for a job... Who threw the tomato?
George, Sr.: Well, how the hell are we going to get 100 grand?
Lindsay: Well, I know this isn’t exactly what you’re looking for, but Maeby was just accepted into private school. And I’ve sent the check in already.
Michael: No, that’s not what I’m looking for at all.
Lindsay: Michael, it’s the most prestigious private school in town.
Buster: Oh, no, not the Milford Academy.
Narrator: Children were neither were to be seen nor heard at the school Buster had attended.
Michael: Tin Man?
Tobias: Is that what he’s called?
Lindsay: He knows.
Michael: You know, Lindsay, since you already sent the check, this is how you’re going to pay for it. You’re gonna be in charge of the house from now on, okay? The cooking, the cleaning, all of it.
Lucille: You’re going to put Lindsay in charge of the cooking? At least you’ll lose weight.
Michael: G.O.B., pal, how about you? Can you find some work?
G.O.B.: Oh, sure, Michael. As what, a waiter? Can I get you something, madam?
Lucille: I will have a vodka, though.
G.O.B.: What? Oh.
Michael: You know, if you’d ever accidentally worked a day in your life, you’d know that there’s no indignity in it.
G.O.B.: Great. She’ll have a vodka.
George, Sr.: Instead of us all selling out and becoming housewives and waiters, why don’t we have a big event? Some sort of “Save Our Bluths” type thing.
www.saveourbluths.org
