M*A*S*H

Thank you, Charles of the Ritzies. (humming)

‐Hey, twinkle toes? ‐Yes?

‐Do you take requests? ‐I certainly do.

Can I hear the refrain from singing?

You're just jealous

'cause I got a 24‐hour pass and you don't.

I'm too tired to be jealous.

Your pass to Seoul is my ticket to the Land of Nod.

Pleasant dreams, bunkie.

Dreams? Did I say dreams?

I figured you were leaving.

I got wind of your eau de "cologney"

clear over to post‐op.

Thank you. It's the sweet smell of excess.

Begging your pardon, sir, and madam.

Call of the mail.

Oh, a note from the Dad Letter Office.

Got me a missive from the missus.

Ah! Look at this!

A picture of Dad and my little cousin Martin

at the annual sugaring‐off dinner.

What's a sugaring‐off dinner?

Oh, you urban prisoner, you.

It is the social event of the entire maple syrup season.

All the saps come out of the woodwork.

Better saddle up, vaquero. You do need some time off.

Thanks for lending me the car, Dad.

Don't worry. I won't scratch the rust.

Hot mustard!

Good news, Colonel?

I'll say. Mildred and her partner took first prize

in the big Hannibal, Missouri, bridge tournament.

Ah, you must be very proud.

As in peacock, Padre.

She even enclosed a diagram of the winning hand.

I take it that the winning hand had a gun in it.

‐How's that? ‐Oh, forgive me, sir.

Being a past master myself,

I've always had a particular reverence

for the game of bridge.

It always depresses me to see people attempt it

who are better suited to canasta or panguini.

Are you making cracks about my better half?

Not at all, sir. I'm sure she richly deserves

the accolades of her peers

at the Missouri Blue Hair Invitational.

Now get this, boy.

Me and Mildred were playin' bridge

when you were still making gum marks on your silver spoon.

We're the best mixed‐doubles bridge team

in the entire Show‐Me State.

That is roughly the equivalent

of being the finest hockey player in all of Ecuador.

Think you're pretty smart, don't you?

Would you care to put your money where your foot is?

What say we have a little showdown of our own?

Sir, are you challenging me?

You bet your blue blood.

I'd slap you across the kisser if I had a glove,

preferably one of Primo Carnera's.

I must warn you, sir, it is I who shall stand victorious

o'er your fallen cock,

as my sister Honoria and I

were four times champions

of the Beacon Hill Bridge Society.

Well, well. I think we have the makings of a classic brouhaha.

Do I hear the sound of a grudge match,

bridge hands with brass knuckles on them?

Yes! Colonel Potter's just thrown down the gauntlet.

I intend to see that he picks it up.

You're on, sonny.

Wonderful. I'll go set up a table in the Officers Club.

Whoa, Padre.

We're gonna need partners.

This is your lucky day, sir.

I'm ready, willing, and available.

Forget it, Klinger. This tournament is open to mammals only.

We'll keep you in mind if ever we have a tournament of Crazy Section 8s.

I don't play myself, but what about B. J.?

He's got to be a bridge player. He lives in the suburbs.

Hunnicutt? A Californian?

The only bridge he knows is the Golden Gate.

Wait a minute!

Major Houlihan is an excellent player.

A shark is more like it.

Fascinating as this is,

I think I will retire to the Swamp

and enjoy the view of Pierce's empty bunk.

What about partners?

Sir, with all due respect,

I will have you weeping into your bridge mix,

even if I wind up partnered with your horse.

Hold it a second. Is a horse a mammal?

Come on, baby. I'm sittin' here with my brass exposed.

Oh, hi. Sorry if I took your parking space.

I'll be out of here in a jiffy.

Look, I'm not armed. See?

No guns, no bombs, no errors.

Look, why‐‐ Why don't you take the jeep?

It's dead. Maybe it'll fill your quota.

‐(Korean) ‐What?

What‐‐ You want the suitcase?

No, you don't want it. Okay, fine. It's all right.

What?

What, You want‐‐ You want the medical bag?

You got it. There. Wear it in good health.

Yeah, okay. Okay.

‐All right. I'll‐‐ ‐(Korean continues)

Look, I realize I'm dressed to kill,

but don't take it literally.

You want me and the medical bag, is that it?

Okay. You got it. Sure. Okay. Fine. Good. Okay.

Look, if we're going in there,

I think I should warn you I'm not a tree surgeon.

Why, Charles.

Ah, top of the afternoon, Margaret.

I dropped by because I have a little surprise

that you might find amusing.

It seems that our own Colonel Potter

fancies himself quite a bridge player.

‐Oh, really? ‐Yes.

And as you are perhaps aware,

I am of championship caliber at the game.

I wasn't aware. But I'm certainly not surprised.

Oh, thank you. Well, the upshot of all this

is that, after a few well‐chosen lunchtime japes,

I find myself challenged to a bridge tournament by the old boy.

And?

And I am offering you the chance

of sharing the joy of taking that bumpkin to the cleaners.

You're too late, Winchester.

The bumpkin beat you to her.

Hi.

Colonel, what a coincidence. We were just talking about you.

I heard every word. The old boy ain't "deef," you know.

Good. Then you will be able to hear clearly

Margaret say that she would prefer to play with me.

Where I'm from, it's first come, first served.

And I'm here and you're there.

Need I elaborate?

Hold it, both of you.

As much as a woman might enjoy

having two distinguished gentlemen fight over her,

‐I‐‐ ‐Margaret,

I have no intention of fighting for you.

The advantages of pairing with me are obvious:

a brilliant partner, stimulating play, the only hope of victory,

and a dozen pair of silk stockings

and $50 cash after we win.

That's bribery!

No, that is the American way.

‐Survival of the richest. ‐Relax, both of you.

Charles, I have already agreed to play with Colonel Potter.

After all, he is the ranking player here.

Aha. In other words, he ordered you.

Confucius say a bird on the collar beats your 50 dollar.

Go away.

But Bede, you Old Bean,

do you have any idea what a beautiful day it is out there?

The sky is blue. The birds are singing.

Why would anyone want to waste their time sleeping

when they can be in the officers' club playing bridge?

You heard about people who walk in their sleep?

‐I punch in my sleep. ‐Ah! I like that. Good.

Feisty, combative. Two prime requisites for a bridge player.

You mention cards one more time, I'm gonna deck you.

Please.

Do me this one small favor,

and I will be eternally in your debt.

Really?

Can I play my Frankie Laine records on your phonograph?

Even "Mule Train."

Can I trim my mustache with your silver scissors?

Yes. Yes, even your toenails. Are we a team?

Nah. I don't want that stuff.

Then damn it, man, what do you want?

Well, well, well. We are desperate, aren't we?

That sort of puts me in the driver's bunk.

Well, Charles, I'll partner with you on one condition.

Yes. What? Anything. Say it.

That you personally guarantee me

12 uninterrupted hours of blissful slumber.

‐Is that all? ‐Ah!

But I said absolutely uninterrupted.

Anybody wants me for anything, you go in my place.

‐Agreed. Agreed. ‐And.

Somehow I knew there would be an "and."

Well, I'm sure you'd agree

no good night's sleep is complete

without a good morning breakfast

served to me right here by guess who.

Don't press your luck, Hunnicutt.

I am a flawless player. I can win with anyone.