M*A*S*H

‐HAWKEYE: Scissors. ‐MARGARET: Scissors.

‐In my hand, not my foot! ‐Sorry.

Cut this. No, no, no.

‐Down here. Not up there! ‐Sorry.

You're full of sorries today.

I'm sorry.

You don't have to be snotty, doctors.

What can I say, dear, after I've said I'm sorry?

Always a comeback.

All closed. Orderly!

Ha‐ha! I finished first.

And my nurse can beat up your nurse.

Your nurse could beat up him.

Oh, my God! there's a rotten cantaloupe in this man's stomach.

You're looking at Frank's rotten head.

Doctors are supposed to be comrades in arms.

Yeah, you wanna tango?

We'll leave the skin and subcu open.

I'll close in five days.

Yes, doctor.

Always put off today what you can do tomorrow.

Frank, when was the last time you had your gums bled?

Klinger.

Sire? You beckoned the prince of Toledo?

Post‐op, Prince, for some intensive caring.

Ja wohl, Herr Leutnant.

You all right, Major?

Oh, slight twinge. Indigestion.

‐Last night's chicken beaks. ‐No, she's really sick.

Yeah? Let me see.

You're going to meet a tall, dark stranger

who sells insurance out of a rumble seat.

Well, that's what I saw!

‐Hey, what's up, Colonel? ‐I'm goin' to Tokyo.

‐Hey! ‐No kiddin'! Congratulations!

Mildred got a flight to Japan,

and I got a week's R&R.

How romantic! A second honeymoon.

Oh, at his age, they don't romance anymore.

Like hell! How do you think I got these bags under my eyes?

During my absence, the second in command will be in charge.

I strongly resent that!

Unfortunately, he means you, Frank.

Of course. I knew that.

Command accepted, sir!

Hot dog.

Some people around here

are gonna have to get up on their toes.

I don't think I'm up to it.

My tutu's in the cleaners.

Aw, go fry an egg.

Well, I got things to do.

Colonel, Burns isn't fit to command.

No sweat. Radar runs the outfit anyway.

Yeah, but he makes crazy rules.

‐Chew your food 100 times. ‐I showed the fink.

I swallowed my steak whole.

‐Colonel! ‐Klinger.

When you're in Tokyo, would you ask Mrs. Potter

to see if she can find this material

at Goldstein's on the Ginza?

‐I'll ask. ‐I'll need three yards.

Make it four. I'm puttin' in pleats.

Red is okay. Blue is okay.

But no aquamarine.

‐Why not? ‐It matches his skin.

Nobody'd know I was there.

Why are you worried about Burns being in charge?

You never follow orders anyway.

That's not the point. Burns is an irritant.

Like fingernails on a blackboard.

Ooh, I hate that sound.

Can't you do something?

Like sit him down, have a talk with him?

No, like stand him up and have him shot.

Don't be absurd. There'd be an inquiry.

Hmm.

Hey, I got an idea. You could take him to Tokyo.

Yeah. He can be your traveling companion.

‐Tote your barge. ‐Post your bail.

I can tote my own barge, thank you.

Look, what this boils down to

is who gets stuck with Burns.

‐Mm‐hmm. ‐Now, if you were in command,

‐what would you do? ‐I'd take him to Tokyo.

That's why you're not in command. Dismissed.

That pain again?

Yes, Major.

Margaret, when you're sick,

can't you call me Frank?

You know I'm an engaged person.

Let me probe your abdomen.

‐You'll go insane. ‐No, I won't.

I'm not an animal. I'm a doctor.

‐I can curb my lust. ‐Very well.

‐Margaret! ‐Aah!

‐I knew it! I knew it! ‐I'm sorry.

It was last night's chili.

I'm afraid I have a bad appendix.

Let me operate. Please, let me operate.

It isn't necessary. It isn't a hot appendix.

‐It's chronic. ‐Well, let me remove it.

And I'll put it in a nice mason jar with a little alcohol.

And I'll bring you ice cream with chocolate sauce

and perhaps even some Oreo cookies.

‐No! ‐Margaret, show me some consideration.

Let me cut you open.

Is she okay, sir?

Sometimes she favors this hoof.

I'll bet it's those army shoes.

They ain't army.

They were made by a Korean blacksmith‐‐

Hopalong Wang.

Next time, I shoe her myself.

You know how?

I can put horseshoes on a mosquito.

Gee, sir, is there anything you can't do?

Yeah. Get rid of this gas.

Last night's chili.

Like eating a volcano.

Give her a good grooming every other day.

‐She likes that. ‐Oh, I know, sir.

Once she smiled at me with her nice, big yellow teeth.

Give her plenty of salt, plenty of water.

I like regular irrigation.

Hmm, you sound just like my mom.

She always says,

"Better to hold the phone than to get a kidney stone."

Wonderful woman.

You'll be in good hands, sweetheart.

Radar's gonna take care of you.

You know, Radar, being away from Mrs. Potter,

this mare's been a blessing.

She knows you're leaving, sir.

‐Look at her eyes. ‐Like Fay Wray.

I don't know her.

King Kong, this big monkey,

carried her to the top of the Empire State Building.

Wow!

I had heard there were some weirdos in New York.

‐Come. ‐Colonel...

Oh, turn around for a second, Major.

Let me get decent.

Something on your mind?

Sir, request permission to go to Tokyo

to have my appendix removed.

‐You got a hot one? ‐Chronic.

Occasional flare‐up.

Oh, well, that can go on for years.

Why remove a muffler just 'cause it backfires

‐once in a while? ‐Well‐‐

MAN (on P. A.): Attention, all personnel.

We have winners of the Abbott and Costello lookalike contest.

‐Colonel, the reason I‐‐ ‐Hold it. I'm entered in this.

‐Sorry. ‐The winners are

Corporal Klinger

and prisoner of war Chang Suk Yin.

Darn it! I knew they'd bring in a ringer.

The winners receive a Norman Rockwell print

clipped from last week's Saturday Evening Post.

Lucky buggers. Where were we?

‐My appendix. ‐Oh, yeah.

I can't recommend elective surgery.

But if she flares up,

we've got a whole corral of surgeons here.

Oh, Colonel,

Major Burns usually handles the simple operations,

and I don't want him to touch me.

Oh, now the skunk is outta the bag.

If my appendix becomes acute‐‐

‐God forbid. ‐God forbid.

Can you arrange for Dr. Pierce to operate?

‐I'll give him the word. ‐Thank you, sir.

‐Keep a firm abdomen. ‐(chuckles)

‐I'm sorry you lost, sir. ‐Thank you.

Attention. Corporal Klinger

will accept the Rockwell print by himself.

Chang Suk Yin has escaped.

Radar, so I can read on the plane,

get me that book by Dr. Hugo Schlecter.

‐Schlecter? ‐How to Sweat With Closed Pores.

‐Dermatologist. ‐Yes, sir.

‐Sir. ‐Klinger.

No pearls? No dress?

How come you're out of uniform?

I gave up tryin' to get a discharge, sir.

‐I'm so depressed. ‐Depressed?

You just won a Norman Rockwell print.

I know, but I'm still in the dumps.

Buck up, son.

I'll bring back that material from Tokyo.

You'll make yourself a beautiful evening gown.

You'll feel like a new man.

That's what I wanted to tell you, Colonel.

You don't have to bother.

How about a nice pair of nylons?

Send your morale a mile high.

No, thanks anyway.

Found your book, sir. Hey, Klinger,

congratulations on the contest, you lucky guy.