Some poor mastodon is caught in the tar pit.
They ought to put a fence around the tar pit.
That's not a mastodon. It's Fred singing.
They ought to put a fence around him.
Let's see now, the tralafast is connected to the doohickey...
the doohickey is connected to the franaspan...
the franaspan's connected to the thingamajig.
The thingamajig's connected to the whozit, and the whozit...
That's it. The whozit isn't connected.
Betty! Come to the window a minute.
- What is it, Barney? - I'm going over to see if Fred's home.
- I got to borrow a whozit wrench. - Okay, Barney.
Say hello to Wilma for me.
I don't know what we housewives would do without a good waste disposal.
- Anybody home? - Just a minute, Barney. I'll be right there.
Hiya, Wilma. Betty says to say hello.
So I'm saying hello.
You say hello to her for me.
- Is Fred home yet? - Not yet, Barney.
He must be caught in a traffic jam. What do you want him for?
I wanted to borrow a whozit wrench from him.
But it can wait, Wilma.
A tall, frosty Cactus Coola.
I'll come back later.
Okay, Barney. I'll tell him to call you when he gets home.
Right.
And by the way, thanks for the hospitality, Wilma.
You're welcome, Barney.
That Barney is so polite.
Such good manners.
I wish Fred would learn to be more like him.
Fred's a diamond in the rough...
but even diamonds can stand polishing.
I'd love it if he'd come through that door every night...
calm, urbane, with a smile on his lips.
Hello, Fred. I see you finally got home.
- Did you have a tough day, dear? - Yeah.
And it was so hot.
I bet it was terrible on the job.
And the traffic must've been awful.
A diamond in the rough, and they don't come any rougher.
one thing kept me going.
As the car reached the lawn, I could see it.
There it was, right in front of me, big as life.
What was it, Fred?
That frosty, cold bottle of Cactus Coola...
I put in the icebox last night.
Fred, you're so overheated, you shouldn't drink anything cold.
Suck a lemon. That'll quench your thirst.
Suck a lemon? Are you out of your mind?
All the way home I kept thinking of that tall...
cold, frosty cactus juice...
trickling down my hot throat.
Suck a lemon.
I got to hand it to you, Wilma.
You got a great sense of humor.
I'm sorry I came home so grouchy.
But it won't happen again. I am turning over a new leaf.
No more yelling.
No more acting mean.
Wilma! Where is it?
Where is what, Fred?
My last bottle of cold Cactus Coola.
- Did you drink it, Wilma? Did you? - No, Fred, I didn't.
Barney took it.
Barney took it?
- Yes. He's your friend, isn't he? - Friend?
No friend would take a man's last cold bottle...
on a hot day.
That does it. This is it!
It's been coming on a long time, but this did it!
I am through with that Barney Rubble. I disown him as a neighbor.
- Aw, Fred. - Don't "Aw, Fred" me.
I'm never gonna speak to that guy again.
And I'm going over to his house right now and tell him.
I'll give him a piece of my mind.
Not too big a piece, Fred. You haven't any to spare.
Haven't any to spare. How droll.
How very droll.
The doohickey's connected to the franaspan.
Hello, Fred. What happened? Did you get caught in traffic?
- What's the matter, Fred? - Barney, you and I are through.
Don't ever speak to me again. We are finished.
I'm returning your lawnmower, your rake, your hedge shears, and your hose!
- My power tools, too? - Yes, your power tools, too.
Gee, this is serious.
You never returned my power tools before.
There it is.
My Cactus Coola. You didn't get to it yet?
And you won't either, 'cause I'm gonna drink it myself.
No, Fred. No, wait, Fred.
There, icebox raider. It's empty.
How do you like that?
Fred, may I ask one question?
Okay, but you better make it a good one...
'cause it's the last time I'm talking to you. Go ahead, ask.
Okay, Fred. Why did you drink my car polish?
Car polish?
Car polish! I'm poisoned.
- Do something, Barney! - I'll get a chamois.
- Don't just stand there, do something! - Like what, Fred?
Like get a pump. Call a doctor. Get a mechanic.
How should I know? But do something.
Fred, you all right?
Betty. Come out here, quick.
- I can't, I'm in the shower. - Turn it off. It's an emergency.
All right. Hold it, Trixie.
It never fails. Soon as I get in the shower that man wants something.
What happened to Fred?
I know it sounds stupid...
but Fred hit himself on the head with a bottle. He knocked himself cold.
Oh, dear. I'd hate to tell that story to Wilma.
What do you mean, Betty?
I mean, think how embarrassed Fred would feel if Wilma found out.
Maybe we can sneak him into his house and put him on his sofa...
- and she'll think he's asleep. - Sneak him into the house?
Well, that's like sneaking an elephant into a telephone booth.
Anyway, let's give it a try.
Easy, Barney, easy.
Let's stop a minute while I catch my breath.
- Let's lean him up against the door. - Okay.
Oh, boy! He's a load to lug around.
Hiya, Wilma. So, what else is new?
We brought Fred home.
- What happened? - It could happen to anyone.
Yeah, Fred hit himself on the head with a bottle.
Hit himself on the head with a bottle?
Get him into bed, Barney. I'll call a doctor.
Gee, Fred's been out a long time. I wish the doctor would get here.
When I called, he said he'd be right over.
That's him now. Come in, Doctor.
Have no fear, medical science is here.
I'm just in time.
My, you don't look good at all, not at all.
See, now what did I tell you? Loosen your shirt, we may have to tap.
- Is it serious, Doc? - Don't worry about it, son.
I never lost a patient yet.
Some don't get better, but I always know where they are.
That's a joke we use down at the clinic.
- Doctor. - Yes?
That's not the patient.
Oh, my. That's too bad. You could use some help.
But let's get on with it.
All right, madam...
- stick out your tongue. - Are you kidding? I'm not sick.
We doctors are so busy. Seems everybody is sick.
There you are, my dear.
- Where does it hurt? - I'm not sick either.
I must insist upon quiet.
- This man is trying to get some rest. - That's the patient!
That's the...
I'm not a mind reader, you know.
I can't diagnose when you don't tell the doctor everything.
He got hit on the head with a bottle.
A bottle?
You shouldn't hit him with a bottle. A rolling pin, yes, maybe, but not a bottle.
- Can you hear me, Doctor? - Yes, very clearly.
- Yes, indeed. - Okay...
Now hear this. Get lost!
I always wanted to have a human patient just once.
But that's it. So it's back to my horses for me.
- Back to the pasture. - Why, he's a veterinarian.
I must've gotten the wrong list of doctors.
I don't know. Fred eats like a horse.
He's coming out of it. Fred, wake up.
You feeling better? Speak to me.
- Still out. - I think I can snap him out of it.
- How, Wilma? - Watch.
Fred, you want a hamburger?
- That did it. - Boy, did you see that?
It's a good thing you didn't say pizza pie. He would've gone through the ceiling.
Are you feeling okay, Freddie-boy?
Certainly, Bernard, my esteemed neighbor.
Bernard? Are you all right, Freddie?
Bernard, please, not Freddie.
It's undignified. My name is Frederick.
I'm sure you won't mind addressing me properly.
- What's wrong with him, Wilma? - I don't know.
But he'll snap out of it in a minute.
There's my sweet, adorable wife...
Iooking charming as usual.
- How are you, my dear? - See? He's all right. He knows me.
Are you kidding?
And there's Elizabeth, Bernard's wife...
a vision of loveliness...
a delight to the eye.
Yeah, he's all right. He knows me, too.
If you ask me, Fred's flipped his lid.
Let's go home, Betty. A good night's sleep will straighten him out.
Okay. Good night, Wilma.
Toodle-oo, Frederick, you old dear.
I'm telling you, that sock on the noggin knocked a screw loose in Fred's head.
Why, Barney? Because he called me a vision of loveliness?
What's your opinion, Barney?
That's sissy talk. Regular guys don't talk like that.
Never mind regular guys, what's your opinion?
Tell me what you think of me, Barney.
- Betty, please. - Say it, Barney.
All right. You are a vision of loveliness.
Allow me, Wilma.
You're going to spoil me.
You've been so attentive the last few weeks.
Nothing will ever spoil my little turtledove.
You just rest, my dear.
Why don't you make a list of things to augment your scanty wardrobe...
whilst I finish doing the dishes?
Thanks, Frederick. You're a dear.
I could use some new dresses and a fur coat.
Good evening, friends.
This is your Mystery Hour...
brought to you by...
Barney!
What's the matter with you?
Is this any way to leave the towel?
You just wet your hands and wiped the dirt off on it.
Why can't you be neat and clean like Frederick...
and hang up your things? All I do is pick up after you.
Why, I even found one of your ties with soup spots on it...
stuffed in the flower vase.
Frederick wouldn't do a thing like that.
Why can't you be more like him?
Frederick, I hate Frederick!
Now, don't say so unless you mean it.
Do you really like it, Frederick?
I think it's superb, my dear. Very chic.
But, Frederick, it's so expensive.
We'll be paying on it for years.
Details, my dear, mere details.
I shall walk to work, skip lunches...
make my old clothes do for another five years...
and before you know it, it shall be yours.
I wonder...
Is it possible for a man to be too nice?
Fellows, it's early. Aren't you gonna shoot another game?
Gosh, Barney, I can't. I got to go home and straighten up my closet.
Yeah, and this is my night to polish the silverware.
But, fellows, we always play on Tuesday nights. What's the idea?
It's our wives' idea.
There's some joker around the neighborhood making it tough for us.
Some guy named Frederick.
That reminds me. This is the night I vacuum the house.
And what would your pleasure be tonight, my dear?
Getting dressed up, going out to dance...
and hoop it up a bit with other people, and come home on the milk truck.
You're joking, my dear.
- That wouldn't be elevating. - No?
Lt'd give me a lift, buster.
I know you can't be serious.
How about a spelling bee?
How about soaking your head?
Then how about reading Shelley's sonnets to you again?
I've heard Ode to a Lark so many times I could build a nest and lay eggs.
Then we'll have a little opera music.
Oh, no.
Wait till you hear this one, my dear. It's different.
- And what's different about it? - This one has just the music...
which allows me to sing the aria. How about that?
Oh, no, I hate this one. The pizzicatos are too andante.
True. But the tonal counterpoint is so pianissimo.
Oh, brother.
I hate opera.
The orchestra is definitely out of tune.
Shall we try it again?
Once more and I'll blow my top.
Some poor mastodon is caught in the tar pit.
Yeah, they get caught in the tar, and they gradually sink.
They ought to put a fence around the tar pit.
That's not a mastodon. It's Fred singing.
They ought to put a fence around him.
Poor Wilma.
Looks like we're in for a siege of opera this week.
I bet she'd settle for the spelling bees. At least they don't hurt your ears.
Opera or spelling bees, either way, we get stung.
I say, you are in a pensive mood tonight, my dear.
What are you doing?
Just looking at some old photos of you, Frederick.
How quaint.
That's the old, crude me.
Yes, it is.
That's you at the Rubbles' New Year's party.
You put on Mrs. Stonehead's hat.
You were a riot. Remember?
I'd rather forget.
And here's you when you won that pie eating contest.
Disgusting. That was my uncouth period.
How did you ever stand me, Wilma?
It wasn't too hard. It was kind of fun.
You can't go bowling and not ask Fred. I mean Frederick.
I can give it a good, hard try.
All right, you've tried. Now go over and ask him.
Okay.
Bowling? I say, that sounds simply monotonous.
I just thought I'd ask. After all, you are the team captain.
Yes. Well, a captain should never let his followers down.
Lead on, old boy. I shall respond to your plea.
Big deal.
Fellows, look who's here. It's good old Fred. Where you been, pal?
- Hiya, Fred. - Yeah, long time no see.
Come on, Captain, it's your turn to bowl.
Please, you are wrinkling my fur.
Guys. Did you get that?
"You are wrinkling my fur."
Good old Fred. There's no one like him.
- They can say that again. - Gentlemen, please.
I only came because I'm the captain.
And I want it strictly understood that I shall stand for no insubordination.
No insubordination. What a guy!
Okay, Captain.
Get up there and make a strike.
This is a real pro in action.
It went into the gutter. What happened, Fred?
Never mind that Fred stuff. My name is Frederick.
They've been looking for Frederick. I'd better get him out of here.
But I'm their captain! This is mutiny.
And if they catch us, it'll be worse than that.
Come on, maybe we can beat them home.
Now stay there and don't move till I tell you to come out.
Barney, what's going on?
Why have you got Frederick under the bed?
Because I'm saving his life, that's why.
Now remember, don't come out from under there.
I'm telling you, Wilma, every guy in town is out to get him.
They even formed a Get-rid-of-Frederick-or-else club.
- Poor Fred. We got to do something. - But what?
Maybe we can sell the house and move out of town.
A rap on the head changed him...
maybe another crack on the noggin will change him back.
At this point, I'll try anything.
- Go ahead, Barney, conk him. - Who me? No, not me.
- I couldn't hit him. - You hit him, Betty.
I can't even spank our dog.
I can't do it either.
- What'll we do? - Say, I got an idea.
We can arrange it so he conks himself.
- How, Barney? - Come on, I'll show you.
Now, you see that rock up there?
Yes, but why is it on top of the door?
Watch.
Get it? When Fred opens the door...
The rock lands right on his noggin.
I suppose it has to be done...
but is it necessary to use such a hard rock?
Frederick has a hard head, you know.
Okay, go ahead. But I can't watch.
- Frederick. - Yes, Bernard?
Will you come out here and play some opera records for us?
Play some opera records? Why, certainly, Bernard.
I'm glad your plebeian tastes are getting elevated.
I think I shall start with a sextet from Lucia.
Okay, okay!
Who's the wise guy?
I thought I told you we were through, Rubble.
And what's this stuff, Wilma?
Back, send it back!
You think I'm made of money?
Barney, aren't we supposed to go bowling tonight?
What are we waiting for?
The fellows need me. I'm the captain of the team, you know.
Right, Fred. Let's go.
There he goes with all his faults.
- He's still my Fred. - And that's my Barney.
And we're stuck with both of them.
But we like it. We like it.
Wilma!
Come on, Wilma, open this door!