Saturday Night Live Transcripts
Season 11: Episode 2
Those Unlucky Andersons
Mr. Anderson…..Chevy Chase
Mrs. Anderson…..Nora Dunn
Timmy…..Anthony Michael Hall
City Official…..Jon Lovitz
Announcer: And now for an evening with “Those Unlucky Andersons”.
Mr. Anderson: [ reading paper ] Well, I guess we’d better cancel our barbecue, honey.
Mrs. Anderson: Not more bad weather?
Mr. Anderson: I’m afraid so, listen to this: 78° and sunny, except for the area around 516 Woodlawn Avenue.. which will continue to experience heavy rain and occasional sleet.
Mrs. Anderson: What a shame..
Mr. Anderson: Yeah.
Mrs. Anderson: Why is it always our house?
Mr. Anderson: It sure seems that way, doesn’t it?
Timmy: [ enters living room ] Hey, Mom, Dad.
Mr. Anderson: Hey, Timmy! Oh, hey, what do you have there, Tim – one of those toy arrows through the arm?
Timmy: You know, Dad, I wish it were?
Mr. Anderson: Ooh.. oh boy, that’s too bad. It must hurt a bit.
Timmy: Yeah, it does.
Mr. Anderson: You’d better run that under some cold tap water, and put some butter on it.
Mr. Anderson: Yeah, it’ll make it better. Try it.
Timmy: Mom, how you doing? [ exits to kitchen ]
Mr. Anderson: Boy, I’ll bet that smarts. [ opens paper again ] Oh! Oh! Honey! It looks like we won the lottery again! [ laughs ] Over $8 million this time! The cat didn’t eat the ticket, did he?
Mrs. Anderson: Oh.. yes, I’m afraid so, dear. I guess it’s just the numbers he likes, I don’t know.
Mr. Anderson: Darn that cat! Timmy, where is Buster!
Mrs. Anderson: You know, it’s such a shame he doesn’t eat the losing ones.
Timmy: [ re-enters living room carrying frozen cat ] Here he is, Dad. you know, Buster’s kind of dumb, I think, Dad. He got into the freezer again.
Mr. Anderson: [ holds the frozen cat ] Uh.. I’ll never get the tickets out of him this way. Alright, take him back to the kitchen and warm him up.
Timmy: Alright, Dad.
Mr. Anderson: Put some butter on him. Oh, uh, Tim, when you come back, I’ve got some news for you – you got a letter from the President of the United States!
Timmy: Who, Dad?
Mr. Anderson: [ chuckles ] The President!
Timmy: The President?
Mr. Anderson: Yeah.
Timmy: What’s it say, Dad?
Mr. Anderson: Well, let’s check it out.. [ stabs himself with the letter opener ]
Mrs. Anderson: Honey..
Mr. Anderson: It’s okay, it was open.. [ reads letter ] Oh, boy.. Timmy.. you’ve been drafted.
Timmy: Oh, great.
Mrs. Anderson: I thought the Army was all voluntary now?
Mr. Anderson: Well, it is. But, according to this, the Pentagon decided they need one more guy.
Mrs. Anderson: Oh.. and it had to be our Timmy.
Mr. Anderson: Darnit.
Mrs. Anderson: [ lowers head ] Oh, God!
Mr. Anderson: What’s the matter, honey, you lose a contact lens?
Mrs. Anderson: No, my whole eye!
Timmy: Oh, Mom!
Mr. Anderson: Let me help you look for that.. [ gets down on his knees to search the floor ] Ah! This must be our lucky day! Here’s that button I lost!
Mrs. Anderson: Good things come in threes.. because here’s my eye, and another button! [ back cracks as she stands ] Oh.. honey, I think I just turned my spine out again!
Mr. Anderson: Oh, no, sweetheart.. get in the kitchen, put some butter on that.
Tracy: [ enters living room ] Hi, Dad..
Mr. Anderson: Hi, Tracy, did you have a good day? Well, honey, how’d you get that burn on your hand?
Tracy: On the bus. A Buddhist mon sitting next to me was upset about politics and set me on fire.
Mr. Anderson: Some people.. Well, you’d better get in there and put some butter on it. Hey, uh.. that is a hysterical pregnancy, isn’t it?
Tracy: No, Dad.
Mr. Anderson: Come on.. it doesn’t have anything to do with the supernatural, or the devil or anything..? [ she runs away crying ] Darn it all!
[ doorbell rings ]
Timmy: Dad, the door.
Mr. Anderson: I’ll get it, I’ll get it. [ opens door, smacks himself in the head ]
City Official: Mr. Anderson?
Mr. Anderson: Yeah, that’s me. How are you? This is my son, Tim, he’s going to be joining the Army against his will.
City Official: Mr. Anderson, the local historical society has been going through the old town records.
Mr. Anderson: Oh?
City Official: Yes. And they turned up some 17th Century legal papers.
Mr. Anderson: Sounds very interesting.
City Official: Yes. And, according to an old law they found, you’re under arrest.
Mrs. Anderson: [ re-enters living room wearing an eyepatch ] Honey?
Mr. Anderson: Uh, honey, don’t set a place for me, I’m gonna be in prison for a while.
Mrs. Anderson: Oh, what a shame. Well, honey, before you go, do you remember what we usually do when the cat’s on fire?
Mr. Anderson: Uh, yeah.. we run him under some cold tap water, and put some butter on him.
Announcer: You’ve been watching an evening with “Those Unlucky Andersons”.