The Brady Bunch Movie

That's what's brilliant about you. Who

else would build a residential mini-mall?

Now everyone else

agrees to your offer...

It's got to be everyone

on the block or the deal's off.

We're heading into the canyon.

I think I'm losing you, Mr Feldman.

Cut the crap, Dittmeyer,

did you get everyone or not?

- There's one family that's holding out.

- Then up the offer.

It's not that simple. It's like

they're not interested in money.

- It's like they're not normal.

- Why not? What's their story?

Here's the story of a lovely lady

Who was bringing up

three very lovely girls

All of them had hair of gold

like their mother

The youngest one in curls

It's the story of a man named Brady

Who was busy

with three boys of his own

They were four men living all together

Yet they were all alone

Till the one day

when the lady met this fellow

And they knew

that it was much more than a hunch

That this group

must somehow form a family

That's the way

we all became the Brady Bunch

The Brady Bunch

The Brady Bunch

That's the way

we became the Brady Bunch

Don't worry about me. I'm OK.

- Morning, Mrs Brady.

- Oh, thanks, Alice.

- Morning, Alice.

- Careful, Mr Brady. Don't bend over.

We've gotten the Dittmeyer's

mail again, sweetheart.

You'd think by now

they'd know who lives where.

Well, I always know where

to deliver my mail.

Mr Brady.

Marcia's been

in the bathroom a super-long time.

Cindy, we've told you before,

no one likes a tell-tale.

- But, Daddy...

- Your father's right.

- Help Alice make some cookies.

- OK, Mommy.

- Can my doll help, too?

- As long as it's not Betsy Wetsy.

She makes my cookies soggy-woggy.

4,998...

Come on, Marcia. I've got to shave.

4,999...

Marcia, there are others

in this family besides you.

- 5,000.

- Come on, Marcia.

Doug Simpson's

sure to notice me today.

- All finished.

- Finally.

- Greg.

- Jan, wait your turn.

It's never my turn.

Jan, did you move my trophies?

Yes. I couldn't look in the mirror

without seeing the awards...

...of the great Marcia Brady.

I believe these are

my white knee socks.

Not everything in this room is yours.

See, Jan, I told you they were mine.

Put them back and close the drawer.

She has every right to be mad.

They are her socks.

But why does Marcia

get all the socks?

Why does Marcia

get all the trophies?

Why does Marcia

get all the good drawers?

Yeah, why does Marcia

get everything?

Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!

It's closed!

Come on, Greg, hurry up.

- Boy, he's worse than Marcia!

- Hey, what's wrong with your voice?

My libido is increasing rapidly,

and the surge of hormones causes...

...dramatic physical

and emotional changes.

That's what Miss Lynley

told us in health class.

- Finally.

- Yeah.

You kids have no idea

how to impress a chick.

Maybe when you're older, you'll

get hip to what it's like being a man.

Good news, Greg. I'm putting on your

favourite Scooby-Doo bed sheets.

Scooby-Dooby-Doo!

Honey,

I think you've stirred that enough.

I'm not stirring. I'm looking for

Katie Carry-All's underpants.

I'll take over the cookies and you run

these letters to the Dittmeyer's.

And see if they've gotten

any of our mail.

OK, Mommy.

Missy, get your butt-ugly face

down here.

- Hello, Eric. Are your parents home?

- Blow off, cheeseball. Missy!

Shut up,

before you have a toxic dump.

Hello, Missy. How's your science

project coming? I've finished mine.

What are you going to do? Hand in

your face and call it barf mould?

See you on the see-saw, Cindy.

Bye.

I promised they'd sell.

Yeah, I took it in the rear on that.

But this time I'm doing the screwing.

Just make sure one

hold-out family doesn't wreck this.

Can I call you back? Thanks.

- Hello, Mr Dittmeyer.

- Why are you here?

Oh, thanks.

Mom asks

if there's any mail for us here.

I don't understand you.

What do you want?

Mom asks

if there's any mail for us here.

What?

- No, not a clue.

- She wants the Brady's mail, Larry!

Thanks. So kind of you to climb out

from under your hangover.

Let's see, where did I file your mail?

Oh, yes.

- Hi, honey.

- Hi.

- How's your daddy?

- Fine.

Mrs Brady's lucky to have a big,

strong, virile man like that.

Tell you what, sweetie,

next Christmas tell your daddy

I'd be more than happy

to wrap his package.

Here. Hit the road, bad seed.

- The juice will make your shoes slip.

- What?

Your shoes will slip in the juice.

- Bye.

- Bye-bye.

Daddy, Mrs Dittmeyer said...

...she'd be glad to wrap

your package this Christmas.

Really? How is Mrs Dittmeyer?

Mr Dittmeyer says she's overhung.

He's bad-tempered

because he's taking it in the rear.

Must be that paper boy again.

That's Mr Dittmeyer's business.

- Nobody likes a snitch.

- I'm not a snitch. I just tell it like it is.

When you tattle on someone,

you're telling on yourself as well.

And by tattling on someone,

you're telling them, "I'm a tattle-tale".

Is that the tale you want to tell?

- I never thought of it like that.

- It's time to get your school things.

OK, Mommy.

- What is it?

- A letter from the County.

They say we haven't paid

our property taxes.

- We always pay our taxes.

- They say it's the fifth notice.

And we owe them $20,000 by the end

of the week or they'll auction our house.

- $20,000? There has to be a mix-up!

- I'd better call someone.

We are?

You do?

I see. We should?

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