Susan, sweetie, a paper turkey? This is an office, not romper room.
Well, it's not laughing either, but you still dress like that.
Don't tell me it's Thanksgiving already.
What's wrong with Thanksgiving?
Well, nothing, but didn't we just have Columbus Day? And before that, Labor Day?
In Cuba, people do not get to stay home simply because it's Memorial Day or Independence Day or Saturday or Sunday.
You know, I tell you, it's just a matter of time before your lazy country gets swallowed up by communism.
Well, you can take the boy out of Cuba, but...
Sorry, I miss my family again, and holidays like this one just makes it worse.
Well, you can always fly to Chicago with me and spend it with my family.
Of course, I should warn you, there are ten of us, and I was voted the one with the most soothing voice.
Well, I hope you won't be offended if I pass.
No, no, no, that makes two of us. Really come Thanksgiving, I'm gonna be parked in a boot that Denny's scuffing down a turkey and yams land.
Why don't you guys come over to my place? We'll have Thanksgiving there.
Susan, if I don't want to spend Thanksgiving with my family, why would I want to spend it with yours?
Oh, don't worry, they won't be there.
Ever since last year's cranberry mold meltdown, Dad's decided to take Mom and her shattered nerves to Greece, where broken plates are actually a sign of joy.
What do you say?
Okay, what do I bring?
Anything you want. This is our Thanksgiving, no rules.
Luis?
Well, it certainly beats beans and rice and a monitored phone call to my mother.
Perfect.
Look, can I come?
Florence, you're gonna be in a magical mystery van with your parents?
I can't take another one of their potluck dinners. There's never any dinner and there's always way too much pot.
Then you're in. This is gonna be great. We get to give Luis his first Thanksgiving and we'll do it the way it should be done.
No screaming, no nervous breakdown?
And no bongs?
Look, Jack, hire me or don't hire me, but I'll tell you why blacks don't buy your magazine. There's not a single African American in here, man.
No, no, no, wait a minute, wait a minute. Right, right, right, right. Here, there's two black guys, see?
Yeah, but they're next to a picture of John Tesh. So for every John Tesh, you lose two of the brothers.
The point is, you got a magazine in a major urban center. And seeing your best interest, you know something, let me rephrase that.
It's your responsibility, man, to reach out and embrace the entire multicultural community.
Oh, I'm sorry.
No, no, no, come in. Susan Keene, I would like you to meet Dwight Burks, our new freelance writer.
Really? All right, man, thanks. Yeah.
Nice to meet you. Congratulations.
Hey, thanks. Dwight is just what this magazine has been missing.
That's right. He actually lived in a gritty underbelly of the city. He is going to open our eyes to the struggle that people go through every day just to survive.
No, wait. Oh, gotta run. Late for my squash cake.
Wait, Jack, Jack, Jack, before you go, Thanksgiving at my place?
I would love to, but as you know, I have to go to the annual Richmond slash Fargo Festival of Pain. Dwight can go to my place.
Oh, no, no, no, I don't want to intrude.
Sure, we'd love to have you.
Okay, great. I gotta run. Susan, why don't you help Dwight get settled?
Okay.
Yo, Jack, man, you made the right choice. You won't be sorry. I'm the man. I'm gonna hook it up, all right? I got you. Word.
I can't believe this. I'm in. I'm in.
You know, this is really funny, but you look very familiar. Where are you from?
Oakland.
Really, not Walnut Creek.
Ain't no brothers in Walnut Creek.
Well, I know one. My former dentist, Dwight Burke Sr.
Never heard of him. Where's my desk?
Well, his walls were full of pictures of his son, Dwight Jr.
He couldn't stop talking about how he had graduated with honors from Stanford, majored in journalism. I could go on.
Name your price. Waterpik, Sonicare, teeth whitening system. I get them at cost.
Wait a minute. I'm still trying to figure out why the boys in the hood act.
Look, I've been looking for a job for six months, okay? I sent in my resume, and Jack was not interested in the real Dwight Burkes. I didn't know what else to do.
So you lied.
I need to get my foot in the door, okay? How'd you do it?
Well, I dumped Jack's brother at the altar.
See, I don't think that would work for me.
I forgot my keys. Keys? In the hood, all you need is a screwdriver.
This is gonna be great.
I'm really a good writer. All I need is a chance to prove it. Come on, don't blow this for me.
How could I, yo? You're my homie.
Oh, God, please tell me I sound better than that.
Everybody, I want you to meet Dwight Burkes. He's our new freelance writer.
Hey, Dwight.
Sup?
Yeah. Dwight is gonna be writing about the urban scene from his unique street perspective.
Word.
Yeah, he built himself up after a shaky beginning where he spent some time in juvie.
But then, thanks to the efforts of a kindly parole officer and the Reverend Rosie Greer...
Okay, now, chill. You don't gotta give him my whole bio in one sitting. It's not that interesting.
Just for clarification, Dwight, you don't do music reviews, do you?
No.
And you do not take photos?
No.
Welcome.
So nice to have you.
Cool. You wanna show me the rest of the place?
Anything you say, my man.
See you soon. Glad to meet you. Bye-bye.
I hate him.
Come on, what are you talking about?
Don't you get it? I'm the one that covers the trendy restaurants, the happening places.
I'm the Empress of hip. But what's hipper than a black guy from the streets?
You know what that makes me? A little right-headed Jewish girl with no column.
Damn my middle-class upbringing. Damn it!
Nan, I can't believe you're still watching parade coverage.
It's fascinating. Just when you think we've evolved as a species, you see Melissa Rivers ask the underdog balloon who designed his cape.
Look at this, Nana. No place cards. People can sit wherever they want.
Careful, that's how you get girl-girl-boy.
I'll take my chances. Boy, if mom could see this, her head would blow off.
Anything I can do?
No, thanks. And besides, I've seen you in the kitchen. It's not a pretty sight.
All right, I can't cook. But it's a trade-off.
How many grandmothers do you know who can do a Russian split on the balance beam?
Nana, you eat every day. How often do you do a Russian split?
Just ask your grandfather.
Sure, it's all fun and games until somebody needs a hip replacement.
Hi, Luis.
Hey, Luis.
Nana.
What are you doing?
Since my parents can't come to Thanksgiving, I thought I'd send Thanksgiving to them.
How sweet.
I'll say hello.
Okay. Hola, Rivera familia. Su hijo es muy guavísimo.
Thank you, Susan. You just said I'm extremely fruity.
I'm sorry. Okay. Hola, Rivera.
We're speaking in English. They need to practice. And frankly, your accent is horrendous.
I'm so sorry. Why don't we start over?
Oh, excellent idea. Yes, okay.
Okay, action.
Susan.
Did you hear me say action?
Your accent is beautiful.
Hello, Luis. Welcome to Thanksgiving.
Here, Luis. Let me take that.
Oh, thank you, Nana.
Hey, what did you bring?
Traditional candied yams. I got the recipe out of the TV guide. It's from the kitchen of Yasmin Glee.
Hello, Rivera family. I'm Todd. And I brought a traditional Thanksgiving dish.
Well, it's not really a dish. It's in a dish. But it's called a dish.
English is funny that way.
A pretty girl is also a dish. Sometimes gossip can be referred to as a dish.
Todd, he's only got a two-hour tape. Could we move it along a little?
Sorry, Nana. This is yams from the kitchen of Yasmin Glee. Bye.
Oh, look. Yams. I guess you can't have too many yams.
Boy, something like this would have really set mom off. But no, not me. People want yams. They'll get yams. Lots and lots of yams.
I'm here. I'm hungry and I'm wearing stretch pants. Bring on the bird.
I brought you some yams.
Thank you so much. I'm working with morons.
Susan, careful. Mother alert. Mother alert.
Okay, everything's under control. Salad, cranberries, and crescent rolls.
Just in case somebody has a craving for something other than yams.
Back on track. Oh, it's time to base. Luis, do you mind helping me?
It would be an honor, Ricky, here. Why don't you get a shot of me? My family will love this. Oh, just a second, okay?
Todd, how's my teeth?
Perfect.
Okay, fantastic.
Hello, mommy, eh, papi. Roberto, Maria, Angelina, Rosita, Carmen, Macarena, Guadalupe.
Luis, how many sisters do you have?
One. She just likes to be called by her full name.
How does it look?
Plump, juicy, and oh, so edible.
Susan.
In a minute.
Well, take your time because at the temperature this turkey's cooking, it won't be ready for six weeks.
What are you talking about?
Oh, no. Does anybody know anything about ovens?
Uh, aren't they what man used before microwaves?
Well, I've got to care if you have to slice it up and put it in a toaster. I want that bird.
All right, all right, this is a problem, but it's nothing I can't handle.
Uh, I'll just call a repairman and he'll have it fixed in no time.
Susan, what kind of a repairman are you going to find on Thanksgiving?
Oh!
I tell you, I haven't seen as much grease as my last angiogram.
Oh, come on, the oven is not that dirty.
Well, the last guy who was in here left a note. It says turn back.
Why don't you stop cleaning this thing when you got the right to vote?
Look, I'm sure that you're a big hit at the repair shop on open mic night,
but I've got a house full of hungry people and all I've got to give them is a very cold bird.
You're going to take that from her.
Oh, stop flirting.
Look, I'm sure that you want to get back to your own Thanksgiving.
Oh, yeah, I wouldn't want to miss my wife's cooking.
Why? Is it bad?
Is it bad?
Well, after dinner I don't brush my teeth, I count them.
I got the only dog that dates for Alka-Seltzer.
Well, I'd love to stay and listen to some more of this,
but I promised your grandfather that I would meet him at 3 o'clock in front of the old people's home.
What are you going to do, help him escape?
As a matter of fact, we're serving Thanksgiving dinner to people who've lost hope.
I'm sure we'll see your family there.
Oh, chalk one up for Lillian Gish.
Good luck, Susan.
Thanks, Nana.
Todd, do you believe this guy?
I think he's funny.
Oh, Susan, watch this.
Hey, Artie.
Yeah?
Isn't Susan tall?
Tall? I could use her shoes. I know some boat people need a ride.
Oh, I bet if she sat in a Golden Gate Bridge she could use Alcatraz as an ottoman.
He's funny.
Well, you can play with him after he's done.
Come in.
Hey, nice crib.
That means apartment, Vicki.
I know that. Empress of hip?
This is a new colleague, Dwight, and he has brought with him...
Let me guess, yams.
How'd you know that?
I'm psychic.
I'm sensing a little tension in the room.
Yeah, well, we're having a little problem with the oven.
Oh, here's a tip. Get the dude out of it and close the door.
Well, thank you, Chef Homeboy, Artie.
Susan?
Rude?
Oh, no. Dwight's got a good sense of humor, don't you, Dwight?
Yeah, she kills me.
I'll put this in the Hall of Yams.
Who invited him here? I had to work with you for a year before I got invited to the crib.
I didn't invite him. Jack did.
Oh, great. He's moving in. He's moving in.
I'm shooting a film for my family. Please share with us what Thanksgiving means to you.
Well, here's what it means to me.
Giving thanks for the mattress that me and my four brothers slept on.
And then walking 20 blocks to the KFC to stand outside and smell the food.
That was Thanksgiving at our house.
Wow. Way to bring down the room, new guy.
Hey, I know how to bring it back up.
Dwight, watch this. Artie, what do you think of Vicki?
Tell her Bozo called. He wants his hair back quite fine.
We gotta try this.
No, no, no, no. Nobody else talks to him until he's done.
Artie, I am doing my best to create a happy Thanksgiving for a group of people that have never had one.
And the only thing standing in my way is an oven that won't work and a repairman who won't shut up.
So would you get down there and fix it?
Who are those stupid jokes? Which, by the way, are so old they bombed at the last supper.
I haven't been so turned on since I fixed Fabio's dryer.
Here, some more coffee, huh?
All right, Mommy and Papi, it's been 40 minutes and the oven is still not fixed, but everything is okay.
It's fantastic because our delightful hostess has gathered her guests in a classic American parlor game, Pictionary.
Let's watch, shall we?
Okay, cookie.
Wheel, wheel.
Cookie.
Sun, moon.
Muffin.
Snowman.
Marshmallow.
Hammer cake.
Swiss cheese.
Carrot.
It smells like dough.
Toast, it's toast.
Oh, Vicki, you're not even trying. You're just yelling out food.
I'm yelling out food because I'm starving.
I told you we're all starving, but the point of the game was to take our minds off of it.
Why don't we take our minds off of it by eating?
All right, fine. If you want to ruin your appetite, go ahead. There's a huge bag of cheese puffs in the pantry.
Knock yourself out.
Excuse me, Suze, do you have any lava soap, bleach, perhaps a belt sander?
Todd, have you by any chance been eating any cheese puffs?
No.
You're a big orange-mouthed liar.
Where's the bag?
All right, I ate it.
You ate a three-pound bag of cheese puffs.
I say we string them up like a pinata and whack them open.
The fears of things may be taking an ugly turn.
Could you shut that thing off?
Hey, don't yell at him. This is his first damn Thanksgiving.
I'll yell at whoever I want to.
You know, I'm starting to feel a little sick.
Well, that's what you get for dogging all the cheese puffs.
Oh, typical. You're here three days and all of a sudden you're Mr. Cheese Puff.
Well, let me tell you something, my friend.
Don't even think about taking over my column.
What? You heard me.
You know what you're talking about.
I think I'm going to hurl.
Wait a minute. Wait a minute.
We are attacking each other. That is wrong.
We should band together and attack Artie.
Artie, what the hell is going on with my oven?
Artie, if you're trying to jack up the bill, Artie, it's not going to work.
Artie.
Oh, my God.
I don't believe it. He's not finished yet.
Oh, he's finished.
I think he's dead.
How dead is he?
There's no breath. No pulse.
He's stone cold. It must have been a heart attack.
I have a dead man in my oven. I have a dead man in my oven.
Hey, calm down. Calm down.
Everything's going to be okay if we just calm down.
Oh, I touched him. I touched him.
All right. All right.
Let's just think logically here, okay?
When someone dies, what do you do?
You call the authorities. That's what I'll do. I'll call 911.
Wait, wait, wait. Isn't 911 just for emergencies?
Tom, what do you call this?
When a person gets stung by a swarm of bees, that's an emergency.
He's already dead. He may not qualify.
I'll take my chances.
All right, but if you're wrong, there may be a fine involved.
Hello, yes. My name is Susan Keene.
I live at 3135 Washington Street, and there's a dead man in my apartment.
He was trying to fix my oven.
Yes, I was surprised I could get someone on Thanksgiving, too.
Well, it was lucky at first, but I think you'd agree that that is no longer the case.
Just get somebody over here.
Oh, all right. All right. Well, as soon as you can. Thank you.
It's going to be a while.
Apparently, people are choking on turkey all over San Francisco.
Well, see? That's an emergency.
So what did you know?
Oh, there's nothing to do. We're stuck here until the coroner comes.
Susan, I just wanted to know how much I appreciate you giving me this Thanksgiving.
It's one I will always remember.
All right, all right. I know it's a disaster.
The worst part about it is it's all my fault.
If I hadn't pushed Artie into fixing my oven, maybe he'd still be alive instead of lying there with his head on a rack.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. It's a miracle.
He's alive?
No, the pilot light is lit.
Thank you.
We're back in business, Todd, Louise, Dwight. Get him out of here. I've got a bird to cook.
You've got to be serious.
Well, there's nothing we can do about Artie, but we can still save Thanksgiving.
Come on. Come on. Move him out.
No, no.
Look, we don't move him. We don't eat. I got his legs. Dwight, get his arms.
No way. I ain't touching him.
Okay, Mr. Gritty Underbelly, this can't be new to you.
Oh, yeah. The hood is just littered with dead appliance repairmen.
Come on, people. People, there's plenty of time to talk about this over dinner.
Susan, there's a dead man preheating in your oven. You're talking about dinner.
What's your point? I've got beans to snap.
Is nobody else going to say anything about this, or do I have to because I'm the new guy?
Okay, fine. You're out of your crazy ass mind.
Don't you think I know that? Huh? Don't you think?
All I wanted was a nice Thanksgiving with my friends, but no, everything that I did went wrong.
The Pictionary, Artie in the Oven, and yams, yams, yams, yams.
Couldn't you people call each other? Show just a little bit of imagination, huh?
Oh, my God, I'm sounding like my mother. I am my mother.
Susan, don't worry. Okay, everything will be okay.
Yeah, look, we'll, uh, we'll take care of it there.
How? Yeah, how?
This is delicious, boy.
That Yasmine Bleach sure knows her way around a yam.
Todd, get away from Artie.
I've never been this close to a dead guy before.
Isn't it weird to think that this was actually a human being?
Yeah, it was weird to think that when he was alive.
Who wants a last pizza? Oh, I'll get it.
Mm-hmm, I wasn't even hungry.
It'll be like that? All right.
After all that we have been through today, you two are still fighting. Huh?
If Artie has taught us anything, it's that life is too short to be petty.
In fact, I propose a toast to Artie, who not only fixed my oven,
but in his own twisted way gave me the best Thanksgiving I've ever had.
To Artie!
And so the holiday winds down.
Not exactly as planned, but, uh, Mommy, Papi, please,
do not change your minds about one day coming here.
Come in. Hey.
Todd, what are you doing here?
Well, this is, without a doubt, the worst Thanksgiving yet.
The Bloody Mary started flowing before the Macy's Parade,
and by 11, Margot had a migraine.
Mother had locked herself in the walk-in closet,
and Dad had his hand inside the turkey doing a puppet show for the dog.
I am telling you, when it comes to holiday nightmares,
no one beats my family.
What the hell is that?
Pull up a yam, we'll tell you all about it.
Now, grab your partner for NBC's Third Rock Maverick's Face Down Hold Down.
Yee-hoo!
Sunday night on NBC Third Rock's got some company
After getting down with Dick Hang around with Maverick
Mel Gibson, he's dreaming
Flatten in the face and make it hurt
Draw your guns, get dragged in the dirt
The high commander's in a skirt
Hey, there's Mel without a shirt
Jump on a horse and ride for miles
With that guy from the Rockford Files
First watch Third Rock, then watch Maverick
Sunday night on NBL