The Thin Man Goes Home

What about Asta?

He'll have to go in the baggage car, won't he?

Why should he have any special privileges?

He'll ride with us in the day coach and like it.

But those are the rules, aren't they?

Well... we'll camouflage him under your coat.

Out of sight, out of mind. It's a cinch.

Uh, two to Sycamore Springs, please.

Oh! Nick! Asta! Catch him!

Here. You get them.

Asta!

Asta?

Asta!

Asta?

Alright, come on.

Here, here. What's going on?

Nick Charles.

Hiya, Clancey.

Nick, I'm surprised at you.

I thought you could handle a stout.

I tripped. I was chasing my dog.

Oh, sure.

Clancey, I've had nothing but a swig of cider all day.

Nicky, are you hurt?

I think he hurt his head, Mrs. Charles.

He's been saying something about

not drinking nothing but cider.

And it's true.

He's going down to visit his folks,

and they don't like drinking.

Let's get down to the train and get comfortable.

Ha! Camouflage, you know.

Oh, yes.

Thanks, Clancey.

Pardon me.

It's cozy, isn't it?

C'est la guerre, madam. C'est la guerre.

That's French for "bottoms up."

Tickets, please.

Nicky, you really like cider?

Like it? I love it.

Why, just the pure, natural juice of the apple.

What could be better, for instance?

A dry martini, for instance.

That horrible stuff?

Almost took the lining off my stomach.

Why do you care? It didn't show.

Good gracious!

Nicky!

Blockbuster.

Ooh. Yes.

Uh!

Upsy-daisy.

Oh!

Tickets, please.

You know, mammy, I don't think

you're taking this reform movement

of mine very seriously.

Not very.

Well, you just wait.

A couple of weeks on this cider,

and I'll be a new man.

I sort of liked the old one.

Why, darling,

that's the nicest thing you said to me

since the time I got my head caught

in that cuspidor at the Waldorf.

That wasn't the Waldorf. That was the Astor.

Astor?

Astor.

All animals must go in the baggage car.

Oh, that's not an animal.

That's my fur coat.

If it can wag its tail, it goes in the baggage car.

So, it was going to be a cinch, eh?

Very well.

Credit me with an error.

Hey. Hey, mister.

When you pass the kitchen,

will you ask the chef to warm this up?

I don't dance, bub.

Body temperature.

Good grief! Are you on milk now?

I'm warming this up for a friend.

Oh!

Oh, I beg your pardon.

Why, if it isn't Nick Charles.

Where did you drop in from?

You sure are a sight for sore eyes.

Hiya, Brogan.

Well, cut off my legs and call me shorty.

It's a small world, ain't it?

Ain't it?

Where are you going?

We're off on a little vacation,

Sycamore Springs.

I get it. I get it. I'll play dummy.

Oh, you're on the wrong horse, Brogan.

This is Mrs. Charles.

Oh, sure, sure.

How do you do, Mrs. Charles?

So, uh, what are you doing these days?

Traveling in postcards.

Pardon?

Postcards. Postcards. Seasonal greetings.

Say, I cover Sycamore Springs.

I'll look you up on the way back.

That will be nice.

Well, so long.

So long.

Nick, how am I doing?

Oh, swell.

Stick close to me in Sycamore Springs.

Right. How's my postcard chatter?

Alright, but look,

don't those greeting cards

have some poems or mottos?

I think so.

Yeah. Well, memorize a few.

You mean like,

"Roses are red violets are blue

a happy birthday is what I'm wishing you?"

Yes, that's it... roughly.

I get it.

"Willa Wanna, Desdemona."

"Minnetonka, Nippewana."

How far is that baggage car, anyway?

Oh, I imagine it's somewhere

between Pocahontas and Sitting Bull.

Well.

Any suggestions?

Make like an eel, mama.

Woman: More people.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Oh, my cigar.

And that was my last one, too.

Excuse me.

Would you please let me pass?

Why should 1?

Oh!

Well!

How'd you like to be married to that type?

Oh, excuse me.

Oh, my word.

I'm so sorry.

Why don't you look where you're going?

Darling, are you sure

you're rubbing these people the right way?

Uh-oh.

The blockbuster.

Woman: Isn't that terrible?

Ow! My foot!

My foot!

Will you please let us through?

Well!

Oh, certainly.

Make way for this lady and her baby.

Make way. She wants to get to the dining car.

Make way for the mother. Follow me.

Ha ha! Bad strategy, Asta.

You forgot to protect your rear flank.

Nicky?

Hmm?

I still don't understand

what gave you this sudden desire

to go back to Sycamore Springs after all these years.

Well, it'll make a nice vacation, won't it?

A chance to see mother and dad.

I'll bet they're anxious to see you,

and not just the family.

The whole town will probably turn out.

After all, you are the local boy who made good.

Oh, now, darling, come, come.

Oh, don't be so modest, Nicky.

Won't it feel good to get

a pat on the back from your old man?

A pat on the back? What would I do with it?

Ah, don't kid me. If your father

ever gave you a pat on the back,

you'd pop your vest buttons all over the parlor rug.

You just don't know my vest buttons.

Look!

Darling, see it? The old windmill.

It's still there.

You know, when I was a little punk,

that was my secret hideaway.

Good heavens. What secrets

were you hiding in those days?

Oh, corn silk, detective stories.

And look, right there was the little old schoolhouse.

Ha ha. You know, once on Halloween,

I burned it down... slightly.

That must have handed your father a big laugh.

Yes. He just roared...

all the way to the woodshed with me.

Nicky, you never got along,

you and your father, did you?

Never got along?

I wonder what ever gave you that impression.

Oh, he's never come to see us in New York.