Mike & Molly

All right, just one more beer,

and then I need to get home and help Molly

with last-minute wedding stuff.

What about helping me with the bachelor party?

I'm tired of you making this whole wedding

about you and Molly.

Now, time for the tough questions.

Number one: Topless or all-nude?

Whatever, I just don't want to get dragged onstage

by three girls named Cinnamon

so they can play "let's humiliate the fat guy."

Hey, it's not humiliating.

They just take your shirt off, strap you to a chair,

and rub their oily butts in your face.

Don't read too much into this,

but I had a very similar experience at boy scout camp

and that wasn't at all sexy.

Noted.

So you're probably gonna want one of the classier places...

not too near the railroad tracks or a mental institution.

Exactly... maybe one that provides a limo service

so we can all drink.

No, no, the places that offer the free shuttles

are usually desperate for customers,

so I'm guessing those girls are probably all-nude and half-dude.

Well, we don't want to spin that wheel.

No, we don't.

It's hard to enjoy bonding with your buddies

when you got some he-she shaking her furry gonads in your face.

Again, boy scout camp.

Okay, so no he-shes and we rent our own limo,

but keep in mind, the all-nude joints do not serve alcohol.

We're definitely gonna want booze.

It is my bachelor party.

Absolutely.

'Cause when you're pleasantly buzzed,

a strip club is like an erotic sexual playpen.

Stone-cold sober, and you're just a dirty freak paying

an unwed mother to smack you around

with her silicone funbags.

Well, if the father of the groom gets a vote,

I say all-nude and get drunk in the parking lot.

Dad?

close that gaping pie hole and give your old man a hug.

Yes, sir.

You dropped some tonnage boy.

My hands can actually wave at each other behind your back.

How long you been sitting here?

You walked by me twice.

I guess we know why you haven't made detective yet.

You gonna introduce me to your best man?

Oh, yeah, dad, this is my partner Carl McMillan.

And you, sir, need no introduction.

Sergeant Jack Biggs is legendary around our precinct.

I see the department's still big on going

salt and pepper in their squad car.

I rode with a black fella for years.

Officer Tony Clemments.

Great guy... used to call me fat Casper.

Hell of a cop.

His second wife blew a hole in him with a 12-gauge.

She was white.

I mean, just saying,

sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

Well, we certainly have our good days and bad days.

Sit down, dad.

I thought you weren't coming to town until next week.

Well, that was the plan, but your stepmom and I

are going through kind of a rough patch.

Oh, I'm really sorry to hear that.

Eh, marriage has its ups and downs.

One day you're madly in love,

the next day you're fishing your clothes out of the birdbath

and sleeping in the backseat of your Buick Skylark.

Well, I'm sure things will work out.

Better than it did for poor Tony.

I'd rather have to fight some crow for my undies

instead of getting donut-holed

by some crazy bitch with a shotgun.

Ain't that the truth?

Poor bastard never saw it coming.

How could he?

He was laying on the neighbor lady.

Hey.

To Tony.

Tony. Tony.

I'm sure happy for you, son, but I hope

you've sown all your wild oats.

I've done fine in that area, dad.

I married your mom too young and I was trapped.

Year after year,

making love to the same woman in the same position

with the same time limit.

Time limit?

Your mother would say,

"when Mork and Mindy is finished, so are you."

Well, look, I appreciate your fatherly advice,

but I've lived most of my life without it

and I'm doing just fine.

Oh, I see,

you're a man now.

You got it all figured out, do you?

I bet I can still pin your ass in under six seconds.

Dad, no, I'm not going to wrestle you.

Nothing to be scared of.

I'm just an old man talking gibberish.

Stop it.

What's the matter, you going to cry?

Did your mama raise you to be a big sissy girl?

All right, it's on, old man!

Mike, is that you?

Hi, sweetie, this is my dad.

Hey, sunshine, nice to meet you.

You, too.

Oh, I can see the resemblance.

So this is Mike's father, huh?

Still got most of his hair; That's a good sign.

I think baldness is on the mom's side

and it skips a generation.

Oh, that's right.

I saw pictures of Vince's maternal grandma.

She looked like tweetie pie with a monobrow.

Whoa.

Apparently that doesn't skip a generation.

And it doesn't get cuter with age.

All in all, though, a pleasant looking man.

Yeah, hard to believe he was married to Mike's mom.

Well, based on his breath,

I'm guessing the whiskey impaired his judgment.

Morning. Both: Shh.

Hey, sweetie, do you want some breakfast?

I got a pretty bad hangover.

Just coffee for now.

I'll eat after I throw up.

Listen, I'm happy your dad is staying here,

but you need to get him out of the house tonight.

You want me to take him to my bachelor party?

Well, I certainly don't want him here for my bachelorette party

with your mother in attendance.

What, why the hell is my mom coming?

Because you said, and I quote,

"I think it'd be nice if you asked my mother..."

Okay, first of all, I do not talk like that,

and second of all,

I can't take my dad to my bachelor party.

He'll ruin everything.

Ruin what? You said you were just going to

"grab a steak, smoke a cigar,

drink some scotch..."

Is that seriously how you think I sound?

Wait a minute, you don't want your dad to go along

because Carl is taking you to a strip club.

What? He'd better not be.

I hate those places.

The guys are all perverts, the women are all sad.

I can't think of a worse place to have a bachelor party.

Yuck.

Fine, I'll take my dad!

See, you sound just like yourself.

Didn't see you in the cafeteria today.

You missed a good one.

Frito pie and blueberry crumble.

That's why the windows are open.

Hey,

grease, cheese, and fritos.

It ain't gonna come out pretty.

Anyway, I brought you a little something.

What's this for?

Well, I won't be attending

your soirée tonight,

so I thought I'd give you my gift here.

And don't get your hopes up...

it's not dirty, and you can't eat it.

Oh, you're not coming?

Aw, gosh, that's just a stinker.

Darn it.

Hey, cut the crap.

You and I both know you only invited me

'cause Mike told you to.

What? It was totally my idea.

I love your company.

You are a hoot.

Well, I got better things to do

than sitting at a hen party, drinking pink squirrels,

and giggling over rubber wienies.

I understand your trepidation. Plus,

you might want to steer clear of my house.

Your ex is in town and

he's staying with us.

So Jack's here?

Yeah, and it's probably best if you guys don't have

your first eye-to-eye in 20 years in my living room.

It's hard enough getting my mom's red wine stains

out of the rug.

Hey, I got no beef with the man.

Nothing to prove and no ax to grind.

Really?

Oh, I moved on with my life long ago.

Did he bring the whore?

No, he came by himself.