The Neighbors

My name is Debbie Weaver.

This is my family.

This is our old apartment in Bayonne, New Jersey.

My husband Marty got us a deal on a town house...

Nicer neighborhood, wider streets.

Just one little problem.

Our neighbors are all from another planet...

Literally.

Hey, hon. I'm making shelf room for the turkey.

Do me a favor. Come here. Taste this.

- Went bad, right? - Definitely.

- I knew it. - And thank you.

What could be more american

than eating food to make room for more food?

Happy day-before-thanksgiving, babe.

Don't remind me.

- (mouth full) Listen, it's gonna be great. - No. It's gonna be like every other year,

where your father's gonna make you feel small and worthless,

and your mother's gonna judge everything I do.

And I just dipped this chicken wing into the cake icing.

Do you think I'm getting diabetes right now?

Look, my pop has nothing to rag on me about this year.

We got the new house to brag about, right?

I got the promotion.

Not wearing the goatee anymore.

- I hated the goatee. - Yeah, bring it on, daddy. (door opens)

Oh, is that a new painting?

I don't like it.

- Yeah. What's up, Larry? - Oh, it's nothing.

Jackie Joyner-Kersee has merely wandered out of our community.

Oh, my god. Is Jackie okay?

Perfectly fine. She's profoundly depressed.

Just this time of year reminds her

of when we arrived on your planet.

She starts missing her family. Blah, blah, blah. Lady feelings.

Anyway, she's wandering around in a field.

It's kind of our therapy.

There she is. Wife!

Enough pouting! Come!

- Larry, is this what you do when you're sad? - No, no.

I'm more of a prober.

Come on, pumpkin! Step it up!

S01E08 Thanksgiving Is for the Bird-Kersees

Honey, did you figure out what you're cooking for tomorrow?

Who cares? She gonna hate it anyway.

I won't hate it, I just won't like it.

Hey. She meant grandma. Now apologize to your mother.

I'm sorry I don't like your bad cooking.

You know my mom likes traditional, hon,

- So don't even overthink it. - Oh, okay.

So when she takes the tiniest bite of the tiniest wing,

and she makes that face, and she says to me,

"maybe next year, dear," I won't overthink that, either.

Do we have to wear her stupid sweaters?

Hey, if I have to make her a turkey that she hates,

then you can wear the sweaters that she's made for you.

Why don't you just make the turkey how she likes it for once?

Don't you think I've tried that, Abby?!

It's just a turkey!

Whoa! Hey!

Come on. What's happening here?

They didn't even get here, and we're going nuts, huh?

Why don't we just not have them come this year?

Don't tease me, Martin Weaver.

Don't you dare tease me.

We deserve a nice thanksgiving, just the five of us,

- Eating whatever we want. - Say it again, you sweet, sweet man!

Yes!

Wait. I know what we should do!

Let's deep-fry a turkey!

Max, yes.

You are brilliant! I don't care what the testing says!

An in-law-free, deep-fried thanksgiving!

Whoo!

Wait. What did the testing say?

Yeah! We're gonna do it! We're doing it!

I am canceling my parents! I'm a hero, honey.

I am a hero...

Ooh. Oh.

- Get him...get him. Take him from me. - Okay. Quick.

- (Max) Sorry. - All right.

Okay.

- High five. - Yeah!

Ha...

Hello. What?

Yeah, dad, listen, I got... I got some bad news.

Theresa, come here. It's Marty with bad news.

What's wrong? Oh, you look puffy.

Yeah, thanks, mom.

Listen, I hate to do this to you guys on such short notice,

But, um, thanksgiving?

We have to cancel.

Because Debbie just texted me

that the the oven is broken.

If her turkey's any indication,

it's been broken for 18 years.

We both know what this is about.

He's just embarrassed to show us the new house.

You're just covering the screen with your hand, ma.

I can still hear you.

We certainly will miss Debbie's delicious turkey.

Marty. Marty, what is this?

Is this because you're embarrassed of how small the new condo is?

Look, we can bring our own chairs if that's an issue.

Dad, I have my own chairs, okay?

And it's not a condo,

It's a nice townhouse.

Sorry.

I knew it wasn't a real house.

I just didn't know what the proper term was.

It is a real house, dad. It's a real house.

Then why are you so embarrassed for us to see it?

I'm not embarrassed.

You know what?

You come tomorrow. You come see my nice house. How 'bout that?

Can we bring any chairs?

Whatever you want, ma!

Hey, Reggie Jackson.

So your mom's still pretty depressed, huh?

She really misses her sisters this time of year.

It must be hard having her family all the way back home.

Up home?

Oh, no. They're here.

- In the neighborhood? - Mm-hmm.

Boys, it is forbidden to discuss the exiled ones.

Jackie, you have sisters here?

Yes, I do.

However, my husband does not like my sisters.

You can say that again.

Fine. However, my husband does not like my sisters.

Well, I guess no matter what galaxy you're from,

in-laws are tough.

Mother, I wish I could cheer you up.

I know, my son.

But there is no magical event which brings families together to enjoy one another

while being thankful for what they do have as opposed to what they do not.

You're killing me.

Babe, we gotta talk.

Marty, whatever you do,

do not google "deep-fried turkey disasters."

Remember when we googled "tongue bumps"?

It's worse.

Look, I did something.

I did something, too.

- I invited my parents. - I invited the Bird-Kersees.

- No! - What?!

Me no? You no!

What happened to just us?

Okay, how are you gonna explain the Bird-Kersees to your folks?

Well, you know, they're better at blending in now.

And when my parents see a white guy

with a black lady, an asian kid, and a redhead,

they're not gonna be much into conversation, so...

- At last, an upside to racism. - Yeah.

But I won't give up my deep-fried turkey. I won't.

Look, no one's asking you to.

But we wanted this perfect thanksgiving.

Now we might just have to settle for "fine."

- Think we can do that? - Marty, we live in New Jersey.

I drive a minivan. I'm built for fine.

And now we know what to expect,

So there's no more surprises, right?

Nope. No more surprises.

Father would be furious if he knew what we were doing.

Brian Boitano. Greg Louganis.

- We must see the prisoners. - Do you have written orders?

Oh, of course, Greg. Come closer.

There's your written order!

I'm the commander's son! I am the law!

Open it!

Ladies...

Although you've been exiled for attempting to overthrow my father,

our mother misses you.

Therefore, we come neither as judge nor friend,

but with a question...

Want to come to thanksgiving?

Okay. Gammy and pop-pop just pulled in.

Kids, mommy apologizes now for everything she says.

Here we go.

- Hey! - Hey!

You know, you got a crack in the pavement out here.

- What's that smell? - And so it begins. Hi!

Hi, gammy! Hi, pop-pop!

Prettiest girl in the family by a mile!

- Thanks. - Thanks.

So, pop, I told you the house was nice, huh?

Let me give you the tour.

Uh-huh. Uh-huh.

I just took it.

Maybe a nice cold beer could take a tour of my mouth.

Right.

Who's ready for a sweater?

I got the patterns from rosie o'donnell's craft book.

For a lesbian crackpot, she does have some darling ideas!

Awesome!

I always wanted to wear genocide.

And, Maxy, here's your sweater.

And for my Abby,

I made the most special sweater.

Here you go, pop.