Popeye Page #2

the spare room?

Just Popeye, ma'am.

Go upstairs, Mr. Eye.

Olive will show you the room.

Thanks.

Some kind of asylum here.

Show me a room.

Show me some courtesy

might be nice.

I don't see why

I have to do anything

on the day

before my engagement party

when nothing's ready,

especially me.

And what kind of name is that,

anyway... Popeye?

Pretty strange.

What kind of name is Olive Oyl?

Sounds like

some kind of lubricants.

Thank you very much, ma'am.

Don't look in that room;

that's my room.

Meant no disrespect there.

Ugly, huh?

You owe me an apology.

What?

Wonder who shoved

a feather in his ear?

What'd you say?

Sure is nice weather

you have here.

Your name really Olives?

So what?

Olives Oyl?

You don't look Greek to me.

So, you're short.

Or are you just passing

yourself off as short?

Can I see me room now?

Ooh, as if I cared.

Let me give you a hand there.

Maybe it needs a little oil.

Oh!

Oh, oh...

Nice-looking room.

Never seen a room done

in early demolish-kin before,

but this'll do for me.

Careful how you treat

that bed.

Nothing goes on this bed.

Sorry, ma'am, it's just some...

Watch that lamp!

Let me give you some assistance.

Here, give me your hand.

There, that's it.

Yeah, here we go.

Oh, you're in first.

Is that... oh...

Boy, is it hot in here.

I still respect you.

Ooh!

Me bad eye, didn't see that.

Hmph!

Thanks for your help.

Uh, Miss Oyl, maybe...

Don't forget to put

the cat out, dear.

We don't have a cat.

Eau de toilette.

Yeah, eau de toilette.

Yeah.

How do you like that?

Gold is up 20 cents,

two dollars an ounce.

Out of my kitchen, Mr. Wimpy.

I knew it, I knew it, see...

You wait for the supper gong.

I could've made

a fortune on Billings

if Bluto would've let me go

directly to the Commodore.

He's so jealous of me,

that Bluto.

Well, who wouldn't be?

Me, I'm not jealous of Castor.

He's my son.

Man jealous of his own son.

You owe me an apology.

I didn't mean you.

Never lets me go

to the Commodore.

Commodore is a paragon

of sagacity.

If ever I could

put in a good word...

"Shut up" is the word.

"Pass" is another word

that Wimpy...

You don't pass.

He should be killed to death.

It says here the Commodore's

taxing salt again.

Don't look as good as I smell,

but too late now.

Got to go.

Oh, Mr. Eye,

have you met... uh, Pop?

Mr. Wimpy, my son Castor,

Mr. Geezil, my husband Cole.

We're all one big

happy family here.

- Hmph!

- Although not really.

I mean, well, Mr. Geezil

and Mr. Wimpy are, um...

Me, I'm family.

Well, you're my husband.

You owe me an apology.

Well, I can't find anything.

What are you

looking for, Olive?

- A glass.

- Oh, uh, here's a glass.

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote