"Okay, now, we've only got two days left to practice... so we've all gotta help Carol work on her gutter ball." "But why, Dad?" "It's perfect." "It goes in the gutter every time." "Come on, Carol, now let's try this release." "So suppose it's headed for the gutter." "Now what do we do?" "We lean to the left here and pull her back to the right." "Over to the right." "Perfect." "Come on, guys, get it together." "We gotta kill the Koosmans this year." "Now, Ben, this is a neighborly little game of tenpins." "Let's not turn it into "Bowling for Blood."" "Dad, they've beaten us three years in a row." "And then little Kenny Koosman stands outside our window... and does that stupid little chant." ""Turkeys, monkeys, chipmunks, beavers:" "They all bowl better than the Seavers!"" " Well, let's kill the Koosmans." " Let's kill the Koosmans." " Come on, Maggie." "We can do it." " Okay." "Ready?" " Okay, Jason, watch this." " Attagirl." "Tell me if I'm doing it right." " Take your time." " Okay, and..." " Good bounce." " Oh, that..." "To the right." "Oh, well, hey, how can we lose?" "We've got our new secret weapon, Mike "The Strike" Seaver." " Yeah." "You know, his average is up to 187." " Oh, good." "There he is now." "We're number one!" "Okay, here we go." " Okay, watch carefully." "Here we go." " All right." "Yes, thank you, thank you." "And now there's just one more thing I'd like to say:" "Carol, I'll give you $3 if you write me a neo-symbolist poem." "Mike... why would you want your sister to write you a neo-symbolist poem?" "Dad, the most wonderful thing happened to me at school today." "Mike?" "I forgot what I was gonna say." "Oh, okay." "Mike." "Can you explain for us the significance of the sea in Moby Dick?" "Sure." "Sure." "It's the letter between the "l" and the "K."" "It's a little technique I picked up at the last teachers' convention." "Okay, people, settle down." "Hello." "I'm Juliet." "And I'm Romeo." "Dad, I've never met a girl like Juliet before." "Mike, you say that every time." "Well, it's different this time, Dad." "I mean, Juliet is really classy." "Dad, she was born in Paris." "She was raised in London and New York." "She writes poetry, and she even speaks three different languages." "That's three more than you speak." "So you want to impress this new girl with a poem?" "Yeah, but not just any poem, Dad, a neo-symbolist poem." "That's her favorite brand." "Mike, if Carol writes the poem, it's not yours, it's Carol's." "Not if she gives it to me." "Well, Mike, if you're really going to get along with this girl... sooner or later you're gonna have to be straightforward with her." "Dad, I can't do that." "Oh, sure you can." "What do you usually say to a girl you like?" ""Hey, baby, want a one-way ticket to paradise?"" " I'd better write him the poem." " All right!" "Mike." "Hey, look." "I know what you guys are thinking... but I'm just gonna use this poem to get her to talk to me." "Then I'll be myself." "Well, if you guys think that a $3 poem is any substitute... for real and honest communication, then go ahead." "Mike, Dad's right." "Real and honest is gonna cost you $5." ""With eyes that scan the distance" ""With feet that cross the sand" ""With thoughts that keep me dreaming" ""This place is where I stand" ""I hate my mother."" "Way to write, Juliet!" "Hey, was that a poem or what, guys?" "Thank you, Juliet." "Does anyone else have anything they'd like to read for the class?" "Miss Jeffress, I have a little poem I'd kind of like to recite for the class today." "This isn't gonna get me fired, is it?" "Miss Jeffress, you know how they always say... that despite all the hardships of teaching... there are those rare moments that make it all worthwhile?" "Yes." "This one's for you." ""Let us go then, you and I" ""When the evening is spread out like a swatted fly" ""Life being miasmic, somewhat protoplasmic" ""What does it matter if raindrops pitter-patter" ""Like loose pancake batter on the griddle of our days?" ""I should have been a pair of pantyhose hanging on the shower rod of our dreams."" "Michael." "That was incredible." "Oh, really?" "I mean, it was really one of my minor works." "I found it to be a fascinating parodic melding... of popular culture and the lyrical mode." "Yeah, yeah, that's it!" "God, it is so nice to be understood." "You know, Michael, it's wonderful to discover how gifted you are... because for some reason I got the impression... that you were just another suburban dolt." "Me?" "A suburban dolt?" "Life can be cruelly ironic, can't it, Juliet?" "All that... and cute, too." "Okay, now Juliet's gonna be here any minute." "Now, there's a few little things here I'd like to go over." " What's this?" " It's a brief family history." "Now, if you guys can just quickly commit this to memory." " Mike." " Yeah, Mom?" "It says here that I'm a writer." "Oh, well, you are, Mom." "And that I've just completed my 27th novel." "Okay, all right, so it was a rough estimate." "Apparently, I'm a painter." "Well, you gotta admit, Dad... you did a pretty bang-up job on that upstairs bathroom." "And I'm a child..." "Prodigy, Ben." "Yeah, Ben, see, I just told Juliet that you were sort of a..." "Well, that you were a genius at philosophy." "So whenever I wink at you like this..." "I want you to read one of these little phrases here." "All right, let's try one." " "I think, therefore I am."" " Good, good." "Mike, this is ridiculous." "Mike, you don't seriously expect us to tell Juliet that we're all these things." "Come on, Mom, I'm just trying to make you guys look good." "Oh, I appreciate that, Mike... but you're asking us to lie." "And, badly." "Come on, guys." "Just for tonight, bear with me." "Look, if you can't count on your family at a crucial moment in your life... who can you count on?" " Juliet." " Mikhail." "To think we came that close to naming him that in the first place." "Mom, Dad, this is Juliet." " Juliet, these are my parents." " Hello, Juliet." "Mikhail has told me so much about you." "It sounds like you have a fascinating life." "Yes, but what is life?" "So profound for one who's nine, don't you think?" " But then, I guess it runs in the family." " It must." "Tell me, Mrs. Seaver, what does it feel like to win the Pulitzer Prize for Literature?" "Well, I'll be honest with you, Juliet." "It feels good." "Darn good." "The first couple of times, anyway." "And, Mr. Seaver, Mikhail tells me you're a painter." "Do you work in oils or acrylic?" "Mostly flat latex... and some high-gloss enamel." "Would you like to see one of my recent works?" "I call it, "Upstairs Bathroom."" "Dad, no!" "Maybe some other time." "Mr. Seaver, tell me, have you been influenced... by the recent wave of German abstract expressionists?" "No." "I'm really more influenced by the Dutch Boys." "Oh, you mean Rembrandt and Vermeer." "Well, that's fascinating, considering you were a student of Picasso's." "Which reminds me, Mom..." "Is Uncle Pablo coming to visit for the holidays this year?" "Mike, Picasso is dead." "Well, I guess that's a no." "Yeah, Uncle Pablo loved it when we joked this way about death." "Yes, but what is death?" "Oh, you are so deep." " Sometimes it even scares me." " Thank you." "You know, it really is extraordinary... meeting a family like you in a place like this." " Oh?" " Oh?" "I mean, I thought I'd have to go into the city to find a cultural evening like this." "Because Lord knows that most suburbanites are brain dead." "Which reminds me, Mishka..." "I was wondering if you'd like to come to the city with me... to see some performance art." "Oh, go, Mike." "No, go, go." "Because Lord knows... you can't get a decent piece of performance art in the suburbs." "Yeah, you know, that really burns me up." "Tomorrow is the last night of Gerhardt's performance piece." "And there's no one I'd rather see it with than you." "Well, then, it's a date." " Mike." " Yeah, Mom?" "Aren't you forgetting something?" "Yeah, a prior commitment, like something else for tomorrow night?" "One that's very, very important to your entire family?" "Gee, no, I don't think I had any plans for tomorrow night." "Sure you do, Mike." "We're supposed to go..." "Mishka, what is he doing?" "He's dancing." "Yes, incredibly enough, little Ben, here, is a philosopher and a modern dancer." "Now, he's got a recital tomorrow night... but once you've seen one little philosopher dance... you've seen them all." "So, we're on?" "Right, we're on." "Au revoir, Mishka." "Hey, was she incredible, or what, huh?" "I know, I know." "Look, I'm sorry I had to pass on the bowling... but I knew you guys would understand." "You don't understand." "You really don't understand." "Mike, you have to go with us." "You promised." "How are we supposed to beat the Koosmans without you?" "You guys, it's just a game." "That's not the point, Mike." "You made a commitment." "We're all counting on you." "And if you can't count on your family, who can you count on?" "Look, Dad, I'm involved in a relationship here." "With an artist." "I can't just drop that to go bowling." "A relationship?" "She doesn't even know who you are." "She thinks you're "Mishka."" "And you're just a bowler like the rest of us." "Hey, how do you know what I am?" "Maybe I'm not a bowler." "Maybe I am Mishka." "Maybe I'm gonna barf." "If this were the Russian Army, he'd be tried for desertion and shot." "Carol, we're not going to force your brother to go bowling with us." "Anyway, I have a hunch that pretty soon he'll realize he's not Mishka." "But what do I know?" "I'm just a painter." ""Essence of Cow?"" " What a piece of..." " This?" "I love this." "Oh, yes." "Yes, I love this thing." "I mean, I haven't seen cow essence before, but this..." " Andre!" "Fabrizzio!" " Oh, Juliet!" "God, I haven't seen you since the Gertrude Stein-a-thon." "This is a good friend of mine, Michael Seaver." "Michael is a poet." "Oh, look, the performance piece is about to start." "Oh, I hear it's brilliant." " Orangutans bark at the sound of..." " Sunlight." " Why are there no..." " Lumberjacks..." " In big cities?" " Big cities." "Brilliant!" "Absolutely brilliant!" "It's a perfect commentary... on the fashions and foibles of middle-class America." "Oh, yes, yes, absolutely." "Fashions and foibles." "Oh, Mishka, you can't be serious." "I mean, it's obviously a plea for nuclear disarmament." "Obviously." "Yes, nuclear disarmament." "You'd have to be dumb as a post to miss that." "So you're saying it's a comment on contemporary fashions... and nuclear disarmament?" "Yes." "Yes, right." "I mean, everybody knows that contemporary fashions are... obviously nuclear." "And that's disarming." "All right, team, let's go!" " Give me an "S"!" " "S."" " Give me an "E"!" " "E."" "All right, I'll finish it myself." " A-V-E-R!" "What does it spell?" " Losers." "No, come on." "Now, maybe we've lost one of our stronger team members... but we've gotta believe we're gonna win." "And we do believe we're gonna win." "And why do we believe we're gonna win?" "Because we're idiots?" "No, Ben." "Because we're..." ""The Bowlin' Seavers."" "What do you think?" "Look at this." " "Jason 'Bud' Seaver"?" " And that's not all." "I also have one here... for Ben "Fudd" Seaver." "For Carol "Spud" Seaver." "Isn't this fun?" "And Maggie "Mud" Seaver." "Mud?" "Well, there aren't that many words that end in "ud."" "Okay, we ready?" " Now, give me an "S"!" " "S!"" " Give me an "E"!" " "E!"" " Give me an "A"!" " "A!"" " Give me a "V"!" " "V!"" " Give me an "E"!" " "E!"" " Give me an "R"!" " "R!"" " What do you got?" " Losers!" "So, Michael, why don't we talk about your work?" "Michael read the most remarkable poem the other day." "It was just a little something from my recent neo-symbolist period." "Really?" "What were you before you became a neo-symbolist?" "I was... a Neo-Synephrine!" "Oh, a joke!" "How funny!" "Well, Michael, why don't you read one of your poems for us now?" "Yes, now." "Right now." "Everybody, I'd like to introduce Michael Seaver." "An exciting..." " Juliet, I can't do that." " Why not?" "I didn't even bring my poem." "So what?" "Why don't you recite one of your older works?" "No, actually, I couldn't do that." "What are you talking about, Michael?" "Look, Juliet, it's this legal thing." "I mean, I sold all my poems to Hollywood... and from now on only Jack Nicholson's allowed to read them." "Oh, Mishka, stop joking around and read your poem." " Everybody's waiting." " Look, look, Juliet." " I have to tell you something." " What?" " The truth is, I'm not a poet." " What?" " But the poem you read, it was..." " I didn't write it." "I bought it." "You mean you lied to me?" "Look, Juliet, when you first walked into that classroom..." "I thought you were so much different, so much classier... than anyone else I'd ever seen." "I just wanted to impress you." "But your family, the Pulitzer Prize, the modern dance recital..." "No, no." "My family's not at a modern dance recital." " Then what was this?" " Bowling!" " Bowling." " Yeah, bowling." "See, it's this big match we have every year with the neighbors." "It's called "Bowling for Dinners."" "That was my dad's idea." "And the losers have to take the winners out... for a big surf 'n' turf dinner at Ferber's House of Meat and Fish." "Ferber's House of Meat and Fish?" " What?" " Well, it's such a disgusting image." "I mean, two entire families rolling balls for meat." "Hey, it comes with a salad and choice of rice or potato, okay?" "I don't believe this." "You're one of those people who bowls... and hangs out at malls... and eats hot dogs on a stick." "Yeah, I guess I am." "So what's wrong with that?" "Maybe I like malls." "Maybe I like bowling." " Michael, will you please lower your voice." " What?" "Are you ashamed of me, Juliet?" "You ashamed of being seen here with me?" "This is really embarrassing." "Oh, you want embarrassing?" "I'll give you embarrassing." "Hey, buddy, you want to know why there's no lumberjacks in the big cities?" "It's because they're all at the malls eating hot dogs on sticks!" " It's over." " We're dead." "It's hopeless." "Now come on, guys, we've only lost two games!" "We've only played two games." "I hate the Koosmans." "Did you hear them over there?" "They had the whole snack bar singing:" ""We're mopping the floor with the Seaver Four."" "I won't even tell you what they have them singing in the men's room." "Well, then, let's practice." "Come on, Carol, you can do it." "Let's just grab a ball right now, work on your approach a little bit." "Just remember to square your shoulders and whip that wrist... and follow through." "Okay?" "Come on." " I got eight pins!" " Yes." "Well, I'll have to check the rule book on this... but I'm pretty sure they have to be in our lane." "Well, this will be an expensive dinner this year." "The Koosmans are off their diet." "The slobs." "Hi, guys." "Sorry, I'm late." "Mike." "Hey, look, guys, about the way I've been acting..." "I don't know how to say this, but..." " Well, I guess I owe you guys..." " Hey, Mike." "Yeah, Dad." "Do you want to bowl or are you gonna write a poem about it?" "I'm gonna bowl." "And you better hurry, too." "Better bowl fast, Michael." "All right, here we go." "Hey, Mishka!" "We're number one!" "Yes!" "All right, all right, attention, please." "On behalf of the entire Seaver family..." "I'm talking about Fudd, Spud, Mud, and of course myself, Bud... may I present this to the man who led us to victory." "Well, I guess when all's said and done, it's your family who knows you best." ""Mike 'Stud' Seaver."" "English"