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The Half-Baked Sale/Transcript

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Intertitle[edit]

THE HALF-BAKED SALE

Written by: Ken Scarborough --- Storyboard by: Jean Lajeunesse

D.W. Read: Wait! Come back!

Francine Frensky: (V.O.) The Half-Baked Sale.

Reads' House[edit]

Mom: The kids' doctor is Doctor....uh....

Thora Read: Bailey.

Mom: Right. I left his number on the....

Grandma: On the refrigerator next to the phone numbers where you'll be.

Mom: Oh, thanks for covering for us, Thora. We'll be back as soon as my dad's feeling better.

Grandma: Oh, there's nothing I like better than taking care of these kids, and tonight I'm gonna cook them something special.

Dad: Um, Mom, I've left some money so you can order in.

Grandma: Oh, I know you think I'm a terrible cook, son, but that's because you're a professional.

#[edit]

Arthur and D.W. watch Grandma Thora make cookies through the window.

Arthur: I think she’s using the same recipe I used to make my topographical map of Mexico.

#[edit]

Grandma Thora has made dinner.

Arthur: Maybe it’s not that bad, D.W.     He tries a piece.

D.W.: Arthur, you’re the bravest big brother ever.    

Arthur looks less than pleased. D.W. offers her plate to Pal, who is sitting by his dog dish.

D.W.: Hey, trade ya! Look, yum yum!        Pal sniffs and looks disgusted.

Arthur: D.W., leave Pal alone!

D.W.: Can’t I just taste it.     She tries to take some of Pal’s food. Pal growls.    Oh, that dog’s not as dumb as he looks.

#[edit]

Grandma Thora: Can’t make cookies without breaking a few tomatoes.

#[edit]

Mrs. McGrady: Arthur, I’ll tell you, the good ship PTA would be sunk in Davy Jones' locker if it wasn’t for your grandmother. You must be awfully proud of her.

#[edit]

Arthur: I can handle this. Cooking runs in our family, you know. In fact, your father started cooking when he was your age, Arthur.

D.W.: I believe it.

#[edit]

Arthur suggests buying all of Grandma Thora’s cookies at the sale.

D.W.: Arthur, you can’t eat all of these. You’re too young to die.

#[edit]

Grandma Thora: Sara McGrady, tell me the truth. Am I a bad cook?

Mrs. McGrady: You?  Why do you ask?     She blushes. Grandma Thora looks sad.