King of the Hill

Mail came a little early yesterday, 3:30.

Yeah, Peggy was telling me.

Gentlemen, you are looking at the next winner

of the First Annual Durndle County Mower Races, Stock Class.

Mower races? Well, good for Durndle.

Me and my Mason 5000 will do 20 laps around the track

at speeds approaching 12 miles an hour.

I've chosen you three to be my pit crew.

Pit crew? Stuff that, mister.

If there's organized mower racing, I'm in.

- Me, too. - Dang ol' eat my dust, Gribble.

Fine. You're all fired from my pit crew.

So unless you plan on buying Mason 5000s between now and race day

and not having them anonymously vandalized, plan on losing.

Dale, it's the man, not the machine that wins races.

And I'll this to you and to you and to you,

I am the man.

You want to back out now?

Do you mean back out of the race or back out of this position?

Because I can do both, but I will only do one.

There's more where that came from.

Ow! Oh, man!

Not my back again.

Mom, how come Dad gets to stand at the breakfast table

and I never get to wear my cape?

Because your father is afraid of doctors.

Now, Hank, according to my count, this is the fifth or eighth time

that your back has gone out this year.

Will you make an appointment already?

No. My back's just stiff from training for the mower race.

I spent three hours last night working on my starts.

See, if I can beat Boomhauer off the line, he'll fall apart mentally.

What is it with you mower racers and your stubborn code of honor?

I see a doctor whenever I'm incapacitated and it does not make me any less of a man.

I am not incapacitated.

Enough said.

- (groans) - (glass shatters)

There, take it. Take it all.

I don't want any more junk food in my house.

- Oh, Bill, are the rats back? - I don't know.

I'm trying to lose weight so I have a better chance in the mower race.

Well, Bill, you could lose 100 pounds

and you still wouldn't be able to take a corner like me.

Well, I've got news for you.

I could never lose 100 pounds, and you haven't been practicing.

Your lawn is... shaggy!

Did you say something about my lawn, Dauterive?

- (whimpering) - (groaning)

Thank you, Gina. - Dr. Tate.

Yes, hmm...

Mr. Hill, you have a compression of the discs in your lower back.

Uh-huh. Do you get a lot of this in your patients who race mowers?

A lawnmower didn't cause this. It's genetic.

- Genetic as in fatal? - No.

Mr. Hill, you were born with no muscle mass here, no cushioning.

For years you've basically been sitting on your spine.

You suffer from a disease called "Diminished Gluteal Syndrome" or "DGS."

- (gasps) - I-I don't understand.

What-What does that mean?

Mr. Hill, you have no ass.

"Diminished Gluteal Syndrome"? How could this happen to me?

Let me show you something. Gina, the chart.

Just a moment, doctor. - Oh, I'll just do it myself.

This drawing shows a healthy gluteus maximus.

You have this body type.

It's actually quite common in the suburbs,

a white male with small buttocks and a protruding belly

often caused by pronounced consumption of beer.

My rear end isn't as flat as that guy's.

I'm going to prescribe a gluteal orthotic device.

It's a prosthetic you wear over your backside

to help alleviate the pressure on your spine.

You want me to wear a fake heinie?

Mr. Hill, are your shoes fake feet?

This is your gluteal orthotic.

Uh, let's see. You wear it under your pants and...

Well, that's about it.

Let's see how you fit.

Those two bags are filled with saline.

Dr. Tate has prescribed 1,700 milliliters for your left cheek

and 1,500 for your right.

Isn't that interesting, Hank?

You have one butt cheek bigger than the other, just like my feet.

Yeah, yeah, we're made for each other.

I wear a size 16 1/2 on my left foot, 16 on my right.

- How's that feel, Hank? - Uh... pretty good, I guess.

Can you tell I've got something on... back there?

No. Uh-uh. Not at all.

Excuse me. I noticed, uh...

Are you a patient of Dr. Tate?

- No. - Yes.

Ha! Me, too.

- Name's Dave, Dave Ulster. - Hank.

Uh... Hank... Grill.

It can be tough at the beginning.

If you, uh, you know, you ever need to talk or anything, give me a call.

Well, thank you, but this is a personal problem

that I am fully capable of handling on my own.

Well, "Mr. D. Ulster at A-O-L-dot-com,"

get ready for Peggy Hill's joke of the day.

Well, I'll be dipped.

Come on, Dad, pedal to the metal, and take small sips. Don't gulp.

I'm mowing like I'm back in high school.

Have you seen my orthotic? I need it for dinner.

My dad's going to be here in ten minutes.

I was doing a load of support garments. So, I went ahead and threw it in.

I hung it on the line to dry.

It's "dry on a flat surface only." Didn't you read the tags?

Over here, Hank, behind you.

You give that back before I kick your ass.

Don't... don't you mean before you kick your ass?

- (laughing) - That is a medical device

prescribed by an orthopedic physician.

I'm here. Where's my steak?

Dad, go in the house. I'll be right in...

Colonel, you saved me a phone call.

I regret to inform you that your son is wearing saline implants,

- i.e. falsies, on his rump. - (laughing)

Good God, Hank, you're wearing butt boobies!

It-It's not for my buttocks, it's for my back.

Didi, come over here. Put your fake tatas next to Hank's.

We'll see who's got the bigger melons.

All right, that tears it. Dad, you give that to me right now.

Keep away from Hank. - Hey! Pipe down, hillbillies!

We're having a game of Keep Away here, Mr. Kahn.

Catch!

What information have you brought me, Octavio?

Bill is losing weight, esse.

He's eating only oranges and ham sandwiches.

Blasted!

We will still win, but we must train twice as hard.

Octavio, release the chicken.

- (clucking) Bak, bak, ba-gak, huh?

Ohh! So that's the way it is.

Hank, do not just stand there, watching Dale mow a chicken.

Get your cheeks down off that line and get yourself back in the race.

No, no, I'm done with mower racing.

And I'll tell you something else,

I'm ripping up the grass and putting in wood chips.

You know how I always hated having a lawn.

Hank, Mr. Strickland just called.

There is a propane emergency out in McMaynerbury.

McMaynerbury?

When will they learn?

No-no, hop in. With your bad back, I will drive.

Hello?

Hank Hill, Strickland Propane. Do not light any matches.

We're back here, Hank.

Remember me, Hank? Dave Ulster from the medical supply shop.

You're among friends.

All of us suffer from Diminished Gluteal Syndrome.

But-But Peggy said there was a propane... Oh, no.

Hank, my name is Wayne. I've been wearing for four years.

Phil, six and a half years.

Yeah, I'm Larry. I've worn a prosthetic behind for 18 months.

Oh, God, this is a support group.

Hey, hey, we are not a support group. We're hobbyists.

We share a similar interest and meet twice a month to talk about it.

I can't believe this is happening to me.

Your wife told me about the awful incident with your orthotic.

- I shared it with the group. - I don't know what you're talking about.

I am not even confirming that I have a wife.