Fletch Lives Page #3

I spoke with you on the

phone. Oh, yes. That was you?

Great.

Do you have any luggage?

Just one piece.

Plannin' on stayin' long?

Just long enough to see Mount Rushmore

and squeeze in a little ice fishing.

I'm on the board of

the Pontchartrain Society.

We help preserve and restore

some of these lovely mansions.

We headed to Belle Isle?

- You must be dying to see it, Mr. Fletcher.

- Call me Fletch.

Your house is not quite as grand as

some of the others in the neighborhood.

It doesn't matter. It's the thought

that counts. Eighty acres, huh?

Mm-hmm.

Isn't it strikin'?

Your aunt tried to keep things

in their natural state.

She ever brush her hair?

- I can see you're disappointed.

- No, not at all!

A little spackling and some napalm,

this place would make a nice mausoleum.

Oh, my God!

Are you all right?

Oh! I was aimin' to fix

that today. How do you do?

I be Calculus Entterby.

You be Mr. And Mrs. Fletcher?

I be Fletch. Geometry Fletch.

She be Miss Trigonometry Ross.

Pleased, I'm sure. Your Aunt Belle

told me you'd be takin' over the place,

and I'm extendin'

my "condulations."

Right. You work here?

Your Aunt Belle and I,

we had an arrangement.

And I was hopin' we could

make an extenuation of it.

Help me get your stuff

out the car here. Come on.

You mind your step.

Our families go back

for hundreds of years.

Your great grandparents owned my great

grandparents and that's how it all started.

Did you ever hear of the

Emancipation Proclamation?

I heard somethin' about it,

but I don't recall exactly.

- It didn't get much publicity around these here parts.

- I'll bet.

Excuse me, sir.

Could you give me a hand?

R-Right here.

Just pull it towards you.

Just pull it.

Come on, come on.

Just pull it.

Just pull it on over.

That's it, that's it.

Don't scar the car.

Is there any electricity

or gas?

Everything works.

No cable TV, I guess.

If I'd known you was comin', I'd have straightened

out a bit and stocked your refrigerator.

No food?

No refrigerator.

We need to do some paperwork.

Want a lift into town?

What? And leave my estate unattended?

It's not yours till you sign.

I can make you some dinner,

ease the culture shock.

That sounds great.

Should I be doin' anything?

No, not really.

Uh, soon as you get that trunk

upstairs and have finished your nap,

I guess you could fix that step and jump

down, turn around and pick a bale of cotton.

And while I'm gone, see to it Miss Scarlett

stays away from the Union Army, will you?

More wine?

You're not trying to take

advantage of me, are you?

Not yet.

You need to sign these papers.

Do you mind

if I read 'em first?

Be my guest. Had you talked

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes