Mike & Molly

So, you kids must be getting pretty excited

about the big day.

Yeah, Molly and I both love Super Bowl Sunday.

Wedding. Wedding.

Oh.

Well, everything's all squared away at St. Bart's.

And if you slip the organist 15 bucks,

she'll play anything you want.

Now, I warn you, she's 85 and incontinent,

so those low notes ain't always coming from the organ.

Okay, well, good to know.

Sounds like we'll be using the ceiling fans.

Oh, and at some point,

you'll have to sit down with Father Tim.

It's a formality, really.

He just has to confirm you're a boy and you're a girl

and both planning on staying that way.

Well, what if I was both? Then I wouldn't need Mike.

Make sure she doesn't crack wise in front of the good Father.

He drinks, he's got a temper, and he's not a big fan of women.

So where you having the reception?

We found this place that's actually pretty nice

and it's walking distance from the church.

Great, so I got to traipse around the dirty streets

of Chicago wearing high heels and a taffeta gown?

I'm sorry.

You're wearing a taffeta gown?

Not if I got to hoof it to the reception.

Wind comes along, catches my skirt,

everybody gets a freebie.

Oh.

Well, that's a visual.

I don't know why you don't have

the reception in the church basement.

It's clean, it's free.

You lay down a couple of sheets of plywood,

you got a dance floor.

Well, that certainly sounds festive,

in a hoedown-y kind of way,

but Mike and I were thinking...

you know, uh...

Little help?

We don't want to do it in a basement, Ma.

Fine, blow your money.

Your kids can go to community college and have crooked teeth.

About the seating arrangements.

I'm at the head table next to my boy, right?

Actually, we were thinking that Mike and I would sit

at a sweetheart table

and everybody else would be seated around us.

Not much space in your spotlight, is there?

So where's that put me, near to the kitchen door

with one of your humpback uncles?

Well, we thought, by eliminating the head table,

things would be a little less awkward

between you and Mike's dad.

Come again?

Abort. Abort.

I thought you two already talked about this.

You invited your deadbeat dad and his hell-bound whore

to come to our wedding?

Well, it's still kind of up in the air with the whore.

Wait. "Our wedding?"

You ungrateful little Judas.

After all the sacrifices I've made for you

and you just stab me in the back.

Enjoy your 30 pieces of silver, turncoat!

That's great.

This is just perfect.

What did she mean by "our wedding?"

What were you thinking?!

Everything was going so well,

and you had to bring up my dad coming to the wedding?

You told me she was fine with it!

She was... because she didn't know about it!

Well, don't blame me because you're afraid

to talk to your own mother.

Ah, don't get on your high horse.

You're afraid of her, too.

That's not the point. She's your mom.

You should be able to be honest and open with her.

Are you hearing yourself?

Why is there a cop car in front of my house?

You got me. There's no way

my mom could've bought a rifle and beat us here.

You can't cart my baby off to jail!

Vince, do something!

Boys, if you let her go,

I can fill the trunk of your car

with porterhouse steaks and Mexican Rolexes.

The meat is real.

What is going on?

There's my future son-in-law,

the cop.

Set these goons straight.

Uh, Officer Michael Biggs. What's the problem, fellas?

She was driving erratically,

and we followed her to this location,

where she proceeded to park her car on the sidewalk.

But in front of my own house.

That's supposed to be home base, which means

I'm olly olly oxen free.

She's also got 12 outstanding parking tickets

and she's been driving on a suspended license.

We have to impound the vehicle and take her to the station.

I'm going to jail?

I am too young and pretty!

Those butch chicks will be on me like ants on a peach.

You're gonna let 'em take her away?

I'll follow you in my car. Ugh!

So the only thing we get from having you

in the house is an empty refrigerator

and a three-foot butt divot in the couch!

Could you please take your mom inside?

Vince, why don't you arrest somebody

who's committed a real crime, huh?

Like whoever gave you that haircut!

Yeah, I'm talking to you, thumb-head!

Mom, in the house! Come on, Red.

Those mooks will just shoot you and plant the gun on me.

I'll post bail and get her back

as soon as possible. Thanks, sweetie.

Great, now all the neighbors are watching.

Well, you got cops on the lawn

and your mom's mooning them through the window.

Mom, pull your pants up!

All right, show's over!

Quit acting like you haven't seen my mom's butt before!

I can't believe they put my baby in jail

over a few parking tickets.

This town has gone straight to hell

since the Colombians pushed the Italians out.

Sad but true.

Oh, family. Oh, sweetie.

Oh, God.

I missed you all so much.

Where's little Molly?

Right here, Papillon.

So what is the deal? Does she have to go to court?

Well, they impounded her car until she pays the fines

and gets her license reinstated.

And you couldn't pull any strings? I did.

She's not spending the night in jail,

and they pretended to believe me when I told them

the smell in her car was skunk air freshener.

Oh, honey, you must be starving.

Let Mommy make you a sandwich.

Oh, that's all I've been thinking about

since I've been away is a home-cooked meal.

Hey, if you're making sandwiches, uh, I'll have one.

Look at him.

Can't get rid of a couple of parking tickets,

but he can sure make a loaf of bread disappear.

So am I getting a sandwich or not?

No, Dad, I'm not dis-inviting you to my wedding.

What's going on?

Mike's dis-inviting his dad to his wedding.

Shh!

No, I realize I'm your only son,

but hey, that vasectomy was your idea.

He's having a bad day, so don't bring him any pancakes,

waffles, and put a padlock on the pie case.

No, Dad, I'm not choosing her over you.

I'm not choosing anybody. I'm just trying to get married.

Bring me a tall stack.

Don't you move.

Listen, I need one of you guys to be reasonable,

and we both know that's not gonna be Mom. Pancakes!

Carl told me not to.

I got a situation here. Bring me pancakes!

No. He's not hungry. He's just upset

because he's caught in the middle between Mommy and Daddy.

I know exactly how he feels.

What if Mom agrees that you can come if Marlene doesn't?

No, I'm not trying to hurt your wife's feelings.

I'm more worried about Mom

stabbing her in the neck with a cake knife!

Hang on, Dad, Molly's on the other line.

Is he bringing me pancakes?

Now, you know damn well the answer ain't

at the bottom of an Aunt Jemima bottle.

Hey, Molly, what's up?

I'm on duty.

I can't use the squad car to chauffeur your sister around.

Hang on. I got my dad on the other line.

Dad, listen...

Oh, now, don't cry. Don't cry.

If you cry, I cry.

How can this day get any worse?

Would it be cool if I blazed up back here?

Hello, ladies.

Sloppy Joes were sublime today.

And the bread pudding... mwa!

Très magnifique.

That's French for

"damn fine bread pudding."

I'm gonna have a little chin wag with my...

future mommy-in-law.

The hairnet club seems a little more bubbly than usual.

Rat trap day?