All Roads Lead Home

" When he gave us

our air rifles,

Atticus wouldn't teach us

to shoot.

Uncle Jack instructed us in

the rudiments thereof.

He said Atticus wasn't

interested in guns.

And Atticus said to Jem,

'I'd rather you shot at tin cans

in the backyard,

but I know you'll go

after the birds.

Shoot all the blue jays you want

if you can hit 'em,

but remember it's a sin

to kill a mockingbird."'

Cody, take them feed sacks

to the barn.

I think you want a ranch hand,

not a son-in-law.

You know, with you

I'd settle for either.

Where is my granddaughter?

Where is she?

Come here, you.

Come here, you.

Yeah, there we go.

Easy, Dad.

She's not one of your roustabouts.

Well, she's a Banyon,

isn't she?

At least partways.

Best part, right, Grandpa?

You're not just whistling Dixie.

It's in your blood, little one.

And now listen, since you've

proven so astoundingly proficient

at naming horses,

like that little spindly-legged

rockhead of a colt out there...

- Apache Wind.

- Apache Wind.

Since you did that so much better

than I expected,

I find myself humbly in need

of your nomenclative

services once again.

Whoa!

Not just so quick.

There is a protocol

to be observed.

You know the naming of a horse

or a son or daughter

or a granddaughter,

you know,

it's not just a name.

I mean, a name's got

to mean something to you.

It's got to say,

"This is who I am in the world.

I am a force

to be reckoned with."

Okay.

Mom, a puppy!

A puppy?

That's not a puppy!

Belle, that is 25 generations

of the best breeding and bloodlines

and bearing that's ever

gone into four legs.

- That there is...

- Atticus.

- Who?

- Atticus.

Oh, Mom,

can we keep him, please?

Just a second, Belle.

I mean, I paid a lot of money

for this dog.

And he's gotta make me

some puppies

so that I can make

my money back.

Now what we could do

is you could visit him

anytime you want

and when the time's

a little righter,

you could have the pick

of the litter.

- Is that a deal?

- Deal.

Okay.

Well, somebody's gotta do

some work around here.

- Bye, Dad.

- Mm-hmm.

"I asked Miss Maudie about it.

'Your father's right,' she said.

'Mockingbirds don't do one thing

but make music

for us to enjoy.

They don't eat up

people's gardens,

don't nest in corn cribs.

They don't do one thing,

but sing their hearts out for us.

That's why it's a sin

to kill a mockingbird."'

I love you, Cody.

Belle.

I love you, baby.

Cover up, honey.

Oh, my God!

- Daddy...

- Shh!

" And God shall

wipe away all tears

from their eyes,

and there shall be

death no more.

Neither sorrow nor crying,

neither shall there be

anymore pain.

For the former things

have passed away."

Here you go.

Four, eight, a tenth.

Shoot, the man don't even

have a stopwatch.

He's got a stopwatch.

It's in his head.

You ought to taste

his three-minute eggs.

You did good today,

Apache Wind, real good.

That's a beautiful horse, Hock.

And our consortium

is agreeable to your stud fees,

but we are a tad concerned

about your proposed

ownership percentages of the colt.

Frankly, we'd just as soon own

the two-year old outright.

That... that ain't chicken feed.

You know,

I can't read this right now.

I don't have my specs.

Oh, Mrs. Wimmer,

I am so sorry.

Oh, faddle, Lillian. Mr. Magoo

and I have nothing but time.

Isn't that right, Magoo?

Come on inside. Come on.

Mrs. Wimmer, Magoo isn't due

for his parvo booster

for another three months yet,

and even though I love seeing you,

as I told you yesterday,

he's the perfect picture of health.

Okay, just a quick look.

Come here, buddy.

How about some kisses?

You wanna give me

some kisses?

Oh, you're so cute.

You're so cute.

Oh, Magoo!

You did it again.

It's okay.

I have never seen

such concentration.

I wish she'd apply it

to her book work.

Hey, Belle,

you know who was asking

for you today?

Who?

Nobody!

You guys called me out here

for another crazy cat lady?

We'll just have to...

Why should we have

all the fun?

- 17 so far.

- There's one more through to the back.

Guys, I don't have time for this.

I've got my daughter's thing...

- This cat got a name?

- She calls him Mrs. Snuffles.

It's through there.

Mrs. Snuffles!

Kitty-kitty-kitty-kitty-kitty.

We got you.

Why don't we go

to my office?

What about my dad?

We can talk to him together.

- Went by the school.

- Good for you.

You're supposed to wait for me.

That's the rule.

Rules change.

Mrs. Melton's pretty miffed

at you for skipping out on her.

She'll get over it.

Why don't you hop in?

I got another stop to make.

I want you to see what I got

in the back. It's pretty cool stuff.

I'd rather eat slugs.

I was thinking pizza,

but all right.

Belle, I'm sorry.

You're always sorry.

You invented sorry.

Well, you can't just let

her eat anything.

That's why they call it

cat food, Mr. Wong.

It's food for cats.

I've prescribed a low ash,

high-protein diet

and you keep giving Georgette

free range over the buffet table.

No no, no MSG.

That's good,

but no MSG hardly matters

when she's gorging herself

on dim sum and moo shu pork.

Here, kitty-kitty. Meow.

Did we ask

for your opinion?

Whew, what a day.

No kidding, right?

Are you sure

you won't change your mind?

All work and no play

makes Lillian one dull, single,

urban professional female.

It's Friday.

We'll hit Martini Corner,

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