Hello?
That's weird. They hung up.
That's the second time that's happened today.
Did you hear a cell door
clanging in the background?
No.
Then it wasn't my mom.
Hey, look, I found an old box of macaroni for dinner.
Whoa, whoa— let me see
the expiration date on that.
I think it's in Roman numerals.
Have anything better?
Tater tots...
A freezer-burned pot pie...
and a UFO— unidentified foil object.
Do you realize, in the '50s
they thought this was a well-balanced meal?
Well, in the '50s they also thought
that hiding underneath your desk could
save you from a nuclear attack.
That only works if the desk is 80 feet underground
and made of a titanium alloy.
And speaking of nuclear fallout
I survived another dinner with my parents.
Ooh, and saved us from fossilized macaroni.
Hand over the leftovers.
The entire evening was a nightmare.
They maligned every aspect of my character and my life.
That's awful.
Oh, your mom put raisins in the kugel.
I don't even know why I continue going.
These Sunday night dinners are becoming a sadistic ritual.
It's important to have family traditions.
Do you taste this kishka?
It's to die for.
It's the same thing every time I go home.
My father hoks me about forgetting
this paranormal nonsense
and switching my major to accounting
while my mother shovels food into my plate and says
"Why don't you come home more often?"
It wouldn't hurt.
You'd think my father would realize
I'd rather stick needles in my eyes
than join the family business.
Well, what are you saying?
That there's no room for a paranormal researcher
at a CPA firm?
That's about as good as my father's latest joke—
changing the company name
to Goodman, Goodman and Not So Goodman.
That's funny.
Or cruel.
You know, depends on your point of view.
Sync by Alice www.addic7ed.com
For your next astronomy paper
you're free to choose
your own topic.
It should be double-spaced, ten pages.
Due next week, and no
there is no bonus assignment for extra credit.
Never hurts to ask.
This should be a breeze.
I can spit out ten pages just downloading NASA's website.
And one other thing—
No downloading NASA's website
or any other scientific mumbo jumbo
that you get off the Internet.
I want it totally understandable. Simple.
In layman's terms.
Which is why you'll be presenting it
orally to the class.
I don't believe this.
First we can't download our reports.
Then she expects us to actually understand them.
What kind of wacko approach to teaching
is this, anyway?
This is quite a quandary.
You have to intelligently discuss a complicated topic
yet it has to be understandable
to the lowest common denominator.
How do we do that?
I just thought of a way.
Is Aunt Hilda here?
I got to run my astronomy report by her.
You want to talk to Hilda about science?
Dear, that's like asking Hirohito
where to get a good pizza.
I, on the other hand, have three doctorates
in intergalactic studies
and am personally credited with discovering 17 moons.
Well, my professor says
that my report has to be so clear
that even the simplest person can understand it.
Better wait for Hilda.
She's on a date with a witch from Venus.
She met him through that dating service—
Great Hexpectations.
What is all this?
Oh, extra food Miles brought home from dinner with his family.
They torture him about becoming an accountant
but send him home with gold.
This looks unusual.
Ugh. And not unlike
my Uncle Goliath's kidney stone.
It's matzo ball soup.
So good you just want to say, "Oy."
That's Yiddish for "Yum."
Oy.
That was the most incredible experience of my life.
So Elliot was nice?
Beats me.
I was talking about his car.
That thing really flies.
Literally— he's got a flying car, Zellie.
UFO!
It looks just like a Cadillac.
So, tell us about your date.
Give us details.
It's a 1,000-cylinder, hydrogen-fueled turbo
with the coolest chrome fins on the afterburners.
Oh. You mean Elliot.
Well, let me just say this.
It's true what they say about men from Venus.
They have great suspension.
As opposed to those cads from Mars
who leave the toilet seat up and drink out of the milk carton.
I did it once.
Let it go.
Well, now that we've got a report
on your date and his car
I want to run my astronomy report by you.
Of course. See—
you're not the only one
Sabrina values for her intelligence. Shoot.
"The speed of light is the speed at which light travels..."
Whoa whoa hoa. Back up, Einstein— you lost me.
Maybe I should just give my report with finger puppets.
Oh, I love finger puppets.
So, you ready to give your presentation?
Actually, I'm ready to give two presentations.
One is my standard ten-minute cocktail party icebreaker
about the molecular composition of sunspots.
The other is really going out on a limb.
I better go with the safe choice.
Safe choice? That doesn't sound like you.
Then I know I'm on the right track.
Miles come on, you got to go out on a limb.
I mean, that's what I love about you.
You're not afraid to take risks.
Really?
Yeah, I mean look at what you're wearing.
"Therefore, it is hypothesized
"that quasars are optical illusions
"created by gravitational lensing
"of the photons emanating from a large mass
at the center of an active galaxy. The end."
Wow. Who knew you could deliver a ten-page report
without ever taking a breath?
Although, towards the end, the lack of oxygen
was causing your left eye to wander.
I'm just happy it's over and I never
have to think about quasars again.
Thank you, Roxie, or should I
be thanking your Internet service provider?
Sabrina, you're next.
Uh... My report is on the speed of light.
The speed of light is fast.
It's really fast.
Like, you know how the cheetah's, like
the fastest land animal.
It's, like, way, way, way, way, way faster than that.
You said to keep it simple.
I was all set to present my report on sunspots
including my hypothesis that the disco era
was influenced by a minor solar flare
but then, a good friend convinced me
to go out on a limb.
Last night...
I, Miles Goodman
witnessed an alien spacecraft traverse the night sky.
Oy. Not in the "yum" sense of the word.
Surprisingly, it looked like a Cadillac
yet it was stylishly adorned
with chrome fins on the afterburners.
Why can't Aunt Hilda take the bus like everyone else?
It was incredible.
There it flew, flashing a red light
that I can only interpret as a left turn signal.
I got another interpretation—
you're a nut job.
I know what I saw.
I-I-It was a flying car.
Or maybe it was a rubber-padded spaceship
coming to take you away.
I'm sure it wasn't a medical vehicle, because there weren't
any international markings for Red Cross.
You're so loopy, Goodman.
Maybe what you saw looked like a spacecraft
but was really a weather balloon.
Afterburners on a weather balloon?
Now who's loopy?
Still you.
Aunt Hilda, we need to talk.
Nothing good ever comes after that sentence.
Miles saw your boyfriend's flying car.
See?
He gave a report on it in Astronomy, and was totally humiliated.
I had to cover with some stupid story about a weather balloon.
You called a top-of-the-line fully loaded Venusian cruiser a weather balloon?
Look, the point is, if you're going to date people from other planets
you have to be discreet.
Isn't that what I've always taught you?
Wait a minute, that's what you've always taught me.
I'm sorry. I just got carried away.
I've just never dated a guy with such cool wheels before.
Aunt Hilda, you dated the guy who invented the wheel.
Oh, Miles.
Do you have a moment?
Uh, yes, but make it quick.
I'm the target of mass mockery
and unless I'm fast on my feet
I may inadvertently get pantsed.
Well, this won't take long.
I wanted to ask you for the recipe
to your mother's delectable matzo ball soup.
I'd like to help you, but my mother swore she's taking it to her grave
along with my bubee Esther's antique brooch
which I interpret as a direct slap to my Aunt Ceil.
Oh, but I must have that recipe.
Surely you could get it for me.
Believe me, Zelda, I would do anything for you
but my mother keeps that secret recipe in her girdle drawer
and no one goes in there.
Unfortunately... not even my mother.
I'm really glad you decided to go out with me again.
I... I wasn't sure that you liked me.
Don't be ridiculous, Elliot.
I'm very fond of you.
Now, where's the turbo?
I don't think that you're ready for that yet.
Besides, I think we should wait until we reach a less congested area to kick it in.
Or we could kick it in now
and get out of this congestion faster.
I know— "Driving is a privilege.
Safety first." Blah, blah, blah.
Hilda, I'm beginning to think the only reason you're going out with me
is because you like my vehicle.
That's not true.
I think you're a very sweet, sensitive guy
and I'm lucky to have found you.
I feel the same way about you.
I can't believe I have to redo my report.
Sure, it was a little factoid heavy
but I didn't go off like a crazy person
about a flying Cadillac taking the carpool lane to Pluto.
Miles isn't crazy.
Yes, he is, and I'll tell you who's even crazier:
his good friend who told him
he should make a fool of himself.
His good friend had the best of intentions.
I'm just guessing.
Hello?
Another hang up. This is getting a little freaky.
I mean if the lights go out, and someone walks in here with a knife...
That's the best reaction I've had all day.
Sorry, we thought you were the psychotic hang up caller.
Yeah I wish.
Professor Hutchins just called me on the carpet.
She said, "Science has nothing to do
with little green men in souped-up spaceships."
Then she said I'm "an embarrassment
to the Paranormal Studies program."
What's embarrassing is there is a Paranormal Studies program.
The point is... that when the head
of the Paranormal Department calls you a freaking fruitcake
it's time to reevaluate the rest of your life.
Miles, you're not crazy.
You're just as sane as anyone.
That's not much comfort coming from you.
You're the one who told me to go out on a limb
and then told the class I saw a weather balloon.
I was just trying to come up
with a more plausible explanation.
Then other words I'm a freaking fruitcake.
Miles, I didn't say that.
Do you or do you not believe
that I saw a spaceship— yes or no?
Well... I believe that... you think you saw one.
So you think I'm delusional?
No, I just think there are millions of possibilities.
No, there's only one.
I'm going to forget all this paranormal nonsense
and become an accountant.
Miles, you can't do that.
Watch me.
My father will finally get his wish.
From now on, it's going to be Goodman, Goodman and Goodman.
Oy.
I can't believe Miles decided to be an accountant.
He's always wanted to be a paranormal researcher all of his life.
I mean, even as a toddler, he was convinced
that Bert and Ernie were visitors from another planet.
I just wish those two would come out
and put that rumor to rest.
Look, Sabrina
I think this Miles thing
is good news for you.
Now he won't be nosing around
looking for supernatural phenomena
and you won't have to worry about
being exposed as a witch.
No, I just have to worry about
having killed a man's spirit.
Oh, please, who hasn't done that?
I just wish I could have looked Miles in the eyes
and told him that I know he saw that spacecraft.
Then maybe he'd still be following his dream.
Sabrina, you had no choice.
You couldn't tell Miles the truth.
Just like I can't tell Elliot
I'm only dating him for his big block.
What? It's an engine.
Hey, great news.
I just sold my freshman accounting books to Goodman.
That's horrible.
Not for me.
And, frankly, changing his major's
the best decision Miles ever made.
Having your dreams crushed is your idea of a good time?
Let me guess— in Peter Pan, when Tinkerbell dies
you're the only guy not clapping to bring her back to life.
That little fairy drove me nuts.
Sabrina, you have to look at it
from a pragmatic point of view.
There's not a lot of job opportunities
for guys with a BS in UFOs.
That's true.
On career day, you rarely see
a paranormal recruiting booth.
And better Miles comes to this realization now
rather than spending $80,000 on an education he'll never use.
I guess you're right.
College is a time that should be spent
doing the thing that prepares you for your life ahead.
We're out of toilet paper in the men's room.
I'm on it.
Hello?
This is really getting old.
Not unlike this kugel.
It just doesn't keep like the kishke.
So, Miles, you seem to really be
getting into those accounting books.
You got to love debits and credits.
They're all perfectly logical
and spelled out in black and red.
Don't you miss the thrill of the unexplainable?
What I don't miss is the pain of being ridiculed.
When you tell people you see a seven, they believe you
instead of calling you a nut job.
You know, Miles, I know what you're going through.
I mean, I know what it's like to have people think you're different.
Yeah right, what would you know about being different?
Well, there happens to be
a lot about me that you don't know.
Like?
Like I tend to
talk too much about myself.
Back to you.
Face it, Sabrina
you know nothing about being different.
You're just a nice, normal, well-adjusted person.
Look, knock it off, psycho!
I don't have time for your...
Oh, sorry.
Miles, it's Garth.
He wants to know if you want to go
to the Sci-Fi Club screening of Blade Runner tonight.
Tell him I'm busy.
He says they're going to watch it backwards
and look for hidden meaning.
Sorry, Garth, but I'm joining the real world.
Are you sure you want to do this?
I mean, you used to really enjoy going out with those...
Freaks?
Sabrina, I know I've made the right decision.
I can definitely see myself
being an accountant for the next 50 years.
45, if I go with my father's extended workday plan.
Well, maybe you can, but I can't.
Wait a minute, of course I can.
Uh...
Prove me wrong and allay my fears
Show me Miles in 15 years.
Here's your tax return, Mr. Willoughby
and you'll be happy to know I was able to write off
your entire safari to Africa.
And, if the Feds ever ask
Mr. G. Raffe and Mr. L. E. Phant
are your Serengeti sales reps.
Miles, you're a genius.
You saved me again.
Well, it's easy when you do what you love.
Great, I was wrong!
Miles is happy being an accountant.
And why not?
I mean, he's successful, he's got a nice office
big desk, picture of the wife and kids...
Is that Roxie?
Just need your John Hancock on this.
Will you excuse me?
Sure.
Sorry to barge in
but I can't let you ruin your life.
Sabrina, my life is just beginning—
a new life enriched with the joy of long-form deductions.
No, you're going to hate deductions.
They are going to make you miserable.
I know this for a fact.
How do you know— what'd you do?
Look into a crystal ball
and see my future? Something like that.
Look, part of being Miles Goodman
is you know collecting stuff like this.
Radioactive isotope from a Russian warhead.
Oh, are you insane?
Yes, you are.
And that is my point.
See, anyone that collects stuff like this
is not meant to be an accountant.
That's why I'm giving it away.
By the way, I'd wash my hands if I were you.
Several thousand times.
Dipotassium phosphate.
Sodium silicaluminate.
And schmaltz.
Schmaltz.
This should do it.
Voila!
If my calculations are right
I will have just replicated the exact molecular structure
of Mrs. Goodman's matzo balls.
Prepare yourself for gastronomic nirvana.
Brelch!
if this is nirvana, I'm Hadassah Lieberman.
Oh, Sabrina, good, you're here.
I need a second opinion.
Try this.
What do you think?
Make them smaller, have Tiger Woods autograph them
and you've got the hottest seller at the PGA tour.
I don't understand what went wrong.
This matzo ball is a chemically perfect clone.
Zelly, you're missing one key ingredient.
What?
Something I learned about
in my little village of Anatevka— love.
Okay, before he breaks out in a chorus
of "Sunrise, Sunset," I need to talk to you about Miles.
If only I could tell him I know he saw that spacecraft
he'd give up this crazy idea of being an accountant.
But you can't tell him.
That would be admitting that you have special powers.
Exactly.
Hmm. This is a conundrum.
Not to mention a confounding and perplexing problem.
I just wish there was some way I could validate Miles
and let him know he's not alone.
Well, I'm off for my next flying lesson with Elliot.
Tonight he's going to show me
how to properly grip his throttle.
That's what makes the big block fly.
And don't worry, we won't let anyone see us.
Although, seeing is believing, if you catch my drift.
Caught it, and am already formulating a plan.
Oh. That's great.
You're making us a new croquet set—
just in time for summer.
I should be practicing my ledger entries.
I'm really struggling with those European sevens.
Well, Miles, you said you'd help me
identify constellations for astronomy class.
Besides, you can still do your accounting on the roof.
I'll suggest that to my father.
Perhaps this year, our firm can prepare tax returns
on the steeple of the Old North Church.
It's 9:10.
They should have been here by now.
Who?
Uh... geese.
You know, they-they, uh, they...
they're very punctual with their migration.
Oh, my God! Oh, my God!
Look!
Oh, my God, do you see that?
Absolutely— Now, that is the Big Dipper, right?
Not the constellation, the spaceship.
Please tell me you see that.
Wow! It is a spaceship!
Unbelievable!
It's beautiful.
A technological miracle.
Although the driver appears to be slightly inebriated.
Oh, that's probably just a problem with the big block.
That's an engine.
I know that.
I can't get it into fifth gear!
Uh, that's 'cause this only has four.
Not anymore.
Hilda, I've been trying to find the right time
to tell you something
but maybe I should just, uh, spit it out.
Spit all you want.
Just don't fog up the windshield.
The truth is I'm married.
Want to see me do a donut?
Yoo-hoo!
Well, you've taken this better than I thought.
But you have nothing to worry about.
I'm getting a divorce.
That just stinks.
I thought you'd be happy.
The Pluto Highway is closed.
How am I supposed to open up this puppy
if I have to take surface streets?
Hilda, I am trying to talk about us.
Are you listening to anything I'm saying?
Of course I'm listening.
Way to signal, Dipwad!
Well the good news is
that I'm coming out of this marriage in great shape.
I get the house and everything in it.
All she gets is this car.
Sabrina, seeing that spaceship
confirms everything I've ever believed in.
And I know I'm not deluding myself
because you saw it, too... right?
Of course.
I can't wait to tell Professor Hutchins
and this time I have a witness.
Miles, maybe we better keep this between the two of us.
You know what they say:
"Double your sighting, double your scorn."
Perhaps you're right.
And all that really matters
is that someone else in the world knows I'm not crazy.
As long as you don't go into accounting.
I could never do that.
My passion for the paranormal is too strong.
I'm glad to hear you say that.
So, you ready to go inside?
Not yet.
Remember the other day, when you said
you were different from everybody else?
Did I say that?
I was probably just trying to make you feel better.
No, Sabrina...
I finally figured out how you're different.
I mean I was shocked at first
but then I realized all the clues were there
from the very beginning.
Miles, you've got to promise not to tell anyone.
Okay, you could really put my life in jeopardy.
Don't worry, Sabrina.
I'm not going to tell everybody
that you have a crush on me.
I have a crush on you?
Oh... yeah.
I have a crush on you.
Big time.
But as long as we are roommates, we must never act upon it.
I understand.
I'll do whatever I can to be a little less desirable.
It's working already.
Oy!
What a great word.
Hello.
Oh, good it's you.
I just want you to know
that I'm contacting the FBI.
They're going to track you down.
You're going to be sorry you ever dialed this number.
Sabrina?
Harvey?
You're the one who's been calling here and hanging up?
Sorry about that.
Every time I heard your voice, I froze up.
Well, I'm glad you finally thawed out.
Look, ever since I saw you
in Florida, you've been on my mind.
I really feel bad about the way I acted
after I found out you were a...
A witch?
Yeah, that.
But in my defense, you did turn me into a frog
and a beast and a Canadian Mountie.
Don't forget about the time I made you pregnant.
How can I? I still have stretch marks.
No, but even considering all that...
you've always been a really good friend to me
and the reason I'm calling is that I want to apologize.
Thanks.
That really means a lot to me.
Yeah, well, that's pretty much what I called to say
and now I've pretty much said it, so...
Hey, is that a Cadillac flying through the sky?
I'm going to kill Aunt Hilda.
Sync by Alice www.addic7ed.com