Yours, Mine and Ours Page #7

They've brought

Joan and Germaine home.

Come on. Come on.

Joan! Germaine!

Hi, everybody.

It sure was nice of you

to bring them in the rain.

Blame your crazy father. He insisted

the family had to be complete tonight.

When he used that Navy voice,

we didn't wanna be court-martialed.

They can't argue, and I needed

someone here on my side.

- Let me see that little angel.

- Bye- bye.

- We'll bring their things in the morning.

- Thank you, Nancy. Good night.

Good night, Helen. Good luck, Frank.

What a little doll.

Well, Murderers' Row is now complete.

- Can I hold my sister?

- Let's get one thing straight.

There's no more "mine"

and there's no more "yours. "

From now on,

everyone and everything is ours.

All right, troop, to bed, to bed.

- Is this our house now?

- Yes, dear.

Can we invite some friends over?

Mrs. Beardsley.

Hey, you look beautiful.

- You mean for a mother of 18?

- I mean for a bride.

Frank, this is gonna sound silly,

but you know something?

- I'm nervous.

- You know something? So am I.

What did that girl say about you?

You are a tiger.

A slightly grey, slightly middle- aged,

but very much in love tiger.

Oh, Frank. Frank, do you think

it can work out?

Will we ever, ever really be

just one family?

Of course, but it's up to you and me

to set an example...

...tonight, in togetherness.

There's rain coming in our room.

- Can we sleep here?

- Please?

Hey. I'm not gonna sleep

in that big room all alone...

...if I'm not even sick.

Togetherness.

Every morning at four bells,

our day began.

After all, running a family

of 18 children isn't simple...

...but it can be done.

The secret is organisation.

A job for everyone

and everyone on the job.

I was always the first one

to spring into action.

Mutiny was simply not tolerated.

My crew grumbled but obeyed.

They knew their captain only did what

was best for all.

Up anchor, man the mizzen,

fire when ready.

Mission accomplished.

Tommy's job was to check

the weather report...

...to determine

the uniform of the day.

Twenty percent chance of rain.

My job was to brush my teeth.

It wasn't easy.

Maybe if he'd helped me sooner,

they wouldn't be falling out.

Even without teeth,

breakfast at the Beardsleys' included...

...5 pounds of bacon...

...2 gallons of oatmeal...

...three dozen eggs...

...and 40 pieces of toast,

unless I missed.

And that was only to hold them

until lunch.

Which they couldn't prepare

without the old skipper.

After 20 happy years in the Navy,

I had at least learned how to deal.

Breakfast was the best meal of the day,

if you had long arms.

I don't care much for eggs anyway.

And I can live without bacon

if I have to.

Although some people are pigs

about it.

But if a fellow can't even have a piece

of toast, he's finished.

I could starve to death

right at this table...

...and nobody would even stop eating.

- School bus is coming.

- Get your rain boots on!

Phillip, stop dawdling.

Now, come on, dear.

There was nothing else to do.

I had to invent the oatmeal sandwich.

Come on, Phillip.

This is where my system proved

so valuable.

The rain boots were all in one closet,

where they could be reached instantly.

We had learned to buy boots and shoes

and clothes in wholesale lots.

Sizes didn't matter, because eventually

everything fit everybody.

Almost everybody.

Don't worry, fella, just keep growing.

Someday you can fill my boots.

That's my brother.

We got some wild things planned.

You've gotta come. It'll be out of sight.

- Hi, Larry.

- Hey.

The gang is throwing a freak-out

tonight at the beach house.

Tell your parents we're going

to a movie.

Oh, Larry, I couldn't.

Here we go again. Why not?

- I heard about those parties.

- I can't wait to find out if it's true.

Well, I'm not going.

- You are unbelievable.

- I am?

It's that ridiculous family of yours.

You're medieval.

You're so hung up, it's pathetic.

Do you know what you are?

A sex maniac.

If I'm a sex maniac, I'm the most

frustrated sex maniac in the world.

- And I'm almost out of high school!

- Big deal!

That's fine. All right, children...

...finish up your problems

and bring in your papers.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Phillip.

You didn't sign your paper properly.

- Your name is Phillip North.

- I'm Phillip Beardsley.

We all went to church

and we were all married.

- I'm Phillip Beardsley.

- No, dear, not legally...

...and we must sign our legal names

in school, mustn't we?

- Beardsley.

- No, dear, North.

- North! North! North!

- Beardsley! Beardsley! Beardsley!

I got here as fast as I could,

Sister Mary. What is it this time?

Why don't you ask Phillip.

Phillip.

- Darling, what happened?

- Nothing.

- Who did that to you?

- One of the kids.

She started it.

- She says I'm not legal.

- What?

- And Mike isn't my brother.

- Of course he's your brother.

- Then my name is Phillip Beardsley.

- Phillip North.

There she goes again.

Sister, couldn't you just call him

Phillip Beardsley?

I'm sorry, but the school requires

that we use their legal names.

Let's go to another school.

I understand your legal problem,

but you must try to understand mine.

You see, I'm trying to bring

two families together...

...and this is the first sign

that I may be succeeding.

I really would appreciate it if you'd let

Phillip sign his name Beardsley.

But legally it's North.

But it's more important

that emotionally it's Beardsley.

North.

- Beardsley.

- North.

Beardsley! Beardsley! Beardsley!

Watch out, Mom.

You might get a black eye.

You mean, I adopt your children

and you want to adopt mine?

Yes, that way we'll really be

one family.

Your children will have a mother,

legally...

...and mine will have a father, legally.

That way they'll be protected.

You know, in case anything should

happen to either one of us.

- Strawberry or raspberry?

- Apricot.

Do you know that in California

it costs $250 just to adopt one child?

- Really?

- That's a lot of money for a formality.

A black eye isn't a formality.

- How much milk?

- Twenty quarts.

Sixteen, 18, 20.

What we ought to adopt is a cow.

These are for Dad.

Two hundred and fifty times 18

is $4500.

- How did you figure that out so fast?

- Sheer panic.

Well, hello, Mr. Beardsley.

Should I wrap it,

or you gonna eat it here?

All right, Harry,

just call out the reserves.

Dave, Jack, it's an emergency.

The Beardsleys are here. More boxes.

Frank, you know what I'd like

for Christmas?

- What?

- Don't buy me anything.

The most expensive gift in the world

is when a wife says:

- " Don't buy me anything. "

- Look, if we didn't...

...give each other Christmas gifts,

and if we didn't get the new car...

...and we cut down

on all the little things...

...the things we don't really need,

the little luxuries...

...couldn't we afford to

adopt our kids?

Thank you, Dad. Would you put these

back there, please?

- Is that it?

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