CHUCK: Things connect,
especially in a big city.
People rub elbows, among other things.
It's what you call a democracy.
It's one big melting pot--
whatever that is--
...where the little guy at the bottom can sit down
to lunch with the guys at the top.
In theory, anyway.
(tires skidding, metal crunching)
Oh, man... Who's fault is this?!
It's your fault! You broke my taillight!
Your taillight?! Look at my car!
CHUCK: Yep, no matter where you look,
you can see it in action--
the free and open exchange of ideas,
the meeting of minds.
(baby screaming) You know what?! You're a lousy cab driver!
CHUCK: Not that the system doesn't have a few bugs.
I do know how to drive! I drive every day!
(indistinct arguing)
(baby wailing)
(siren approaches)
(playing jazz melody)
CHUCK: The point is, there's opportunity for all,
especially a guy with tomorrow's newspaper.
Watch Movies, TV Series and Live Sports Signup Here -> WWW.ADMITME.APP
Still, having a rag that tells the future
isn't always all it's cracked up to be.
Help you?
Hi. I'm here to apply for a job.
Oh, I don't believe we have any openings.
Oh, well, uh, it says right here, uh,
financial consultant.
See?
Excuse me one moment.
Uh, wait. My paper.
Harvey?
Do you know anything about this?
What?
Yes, can I help you?
Uh, well, yes.
The, uh, well, right here-- "financial consultant."
This must be some kind of a mistake.
This is my job.
Well, are you sure? It says right here.
Yes. Been here eight years now.
Oh, boy.
Uh, well, of course, it must be a mistake.
And I, uh... uh... thank you.
Harvey, is this your report?!
Yes.
It's the shoddiest piece of work I've ever seen!
Collect your paycheck! You're out of here!
(elevator bell dings)
Sorry. Wrong day.
(theme music playing)
♪ ♪
RADIO BROADCASTER: Good morning. It's Wednesday in Chicago.
I'm Marty in the Morning, and here's the news.
Lottery fever has taken the city by storm.
The new Metropolitan Pick,
introduced by Mayor Garfield last month,
will attempt once again, tonight,
to produce a winning match.
After seven consecutive drawings
in which no winner has been found,
the payoff now stands at nearly $17 million.
Well, more news in a moment...
I'm dying. I'm dying.
I can't take this.
Did you hear that?
Hear what?
17 million smackers.
Yeah.
And who gets the winning number every day
before it's even picked?
Forget it. I'm not buying a ticket.
Gary...
Gary, please, for my health,
for my well-being, for my sanity--
I'm begging you, just consider it one more time.
Okay.
Uh...
I'm not buying a ticket.
Lord, you give them eyes, but they do not see.
All right, here's one: sales promotions,
flexible hours, excellent pay,
room for advancement.
Sounds good. What's the company?
Yeah, it's, uh...
Al's Auto Wash.
You mean, the one with the singing chicken?
Costume provided, yes.
Hmm. What else?
Well, there's nothing here that doesn't tie me to a desk
for the rest of my life.
How am I ever going to hold down a job
while I'm shackled with this thing?
If I may, a suggestion.
Win the lottery, buy a company,
and if you really need to, work in the mailroom.
No. What I need is a job, a real job,
one that I find for myself. Thank you very much.
Not when you have this.
MARISSA: What you'd need
is something you can do at home,
if that's what you call this place.
Like what? Stuffing envelopes?
Where's the lottery results?
Oh, so much for trust.
Yeah. Give me that.
Take it. What good is it to me now, anyway?
I don't believe this.
To think that I would stoop so low, me--
your best and only true friend.
Hey, look at this.
Why would somebody do this?
MARISSA: Why would someone do what?
"City officials are puzzling over a bizarre attempt yesterday
"to kidnap Mayor Garfield's dog.
"Garfield, on his daily 'meet the press' walk,
"was accosted by an unidentified man in a ski cap
"who ran off carrying Patsy,
"the mayor's long-time pet terrier.
"The mayor, who was reported shaken but fine,
"was quickly whisked away by bodyguards...
"...while neither thief nor dog had been heard from
by the end of the day."
So? Some nut with a pooch.
What's the big deal?
It's the mayor.
Yeah, that's what I said-- some nut with a pooch.
I take it you didn't vote for him.
Hell, no.
Yeah, well, I did.
Do you want some more coffee?
Sure.
I cannot believe we are doing this.
You don't have to be here. Go to work.
Oh, no, no, not while there is a chance
to make you listen to reason.
Reason. What reason?
That one.
Got the winner.
I'm going to win the lottery.
Miracles happen, Sister.
Doesn't this seem odd to you?
That a guy has a chance to make a fortune
beyond his wildest dreams, and he turns it down?
Absolutely.
No, not that. The story.
Oh, that one.
This guy can spend 20 years in prison--
so why does he go and steal the mayor's dog?
Maybe he ate too many donuts.
Maybe he just doesn't like the mayor.
I don't know.
Speaking of which. (sirens approach)
OFFICER: Keep it nice and tight.
(reporters shouting questions)
Hey! Good morning, folks.
Lovely day. Keep them back.
Now, remember, you decided-- stay away from education,
Uh-huh. and keep your answers vague.
I decided that? When?
MAYOR: Good morning.
And how are we all this fine day?
(reporters shouting questions)
Your Honor, can you explain the fact that your new lottery
has yet to produce a winning match?
No, but it's all for a worthy cause.
I bought my ticket. Have you?
Mr. Mayor? Mr. Mayor, sir!
What do you think of your sudden drop in popularity
over the last several weeks?
What? What did he say?
Mr. Mayor, the polls indicate that...
No more questions. Uh, keep them back.
What does he mean? What polls?
We're going to have to discuss these daily walks.
Why? Patsy loves them.
And I think a mayor should be seen.
Right, Patsy? (Patsy barks)
There he is.
Well, Hi. I'm Mike Garfield...
GARY: Wait!
Stop that guy!
He's the guy with the...
GUARD: Go! Go! Go!
Not me, that guy! Get him out of here!
Get going! Now! Let's go.
Right away. Move! Move! MAYOR: Who's that?
FLANAGAN: Who cares?
What about him?
The last thing we need is publicity.
The press would have a field day with this.
Let's just get out of here.
Drive.
(siren blaring)
Holy cow. Are you okay?
Did you see that?
Yeah, I saw it.
I don't believe it.
Neither do I.
Trying to take the mayor's dog; the guy's a fruitcake.
Wrong. Huh?
That guy was no fruitcake.
That guy was my Uncle Phil.
BROADCASTER: Good afternoon. It's 1:00 in Chicago,
and the mayor's lottery payoff continues to climb...
CHUCK: Come on, Gare. GARY: No.
I'll pay for the ticket.
Fine. Be that way.
I didn't know you had an Uncle Phil.
It's nothing to brag about, believe me.
And he's really your uncle?
Me and half the neighborhood.
Huh? Don't ask.
He's kind of a cross between Zorba the Greek
and Jabba the Hutt.
Calls himself Citizen Kazakian.
Patriotic?
Armenian.
Came over here 48 years ago in the hold of a tuna boat.
Well, where do we find this Uncle Phil?
You don't find Uncle Phil...
you smell him.
(sniffing)
That's right. There you go.
Okay. Thanks.
Enjoy. And remember to vote.
Excuse me.
Uh-oh.
Not so fast.
Charlie? Uncle Phil.
Oh. Long time no see.
Come on. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!
Let's go. Hey, where you taking to me?
We're taking you to lunch.
You can't do this to me. Unhand me.
(door bell jingles) In here.
PHIL: You won't get away with this.
Cut it out.
This is a kidnapping, you know.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Somebody could steal my cart.
Doubtful.
Okay, Phil, talk to us.
Welcome back to the neighborhood.
You lost weight or something?
Thank you for noticing.
Who's that?
Gary. Gary, Phil.
Phil, Gary.
Charmed. What can I do for you?
The mayor, Phil.
I don't know what you mean.
Come on. We know you were there.
Prove it.
You tried to swipe the mayor's dog.
Psychic.
College graduate.
Oh.
Look, we know what you tried to do.
The question is why.
Yeah, why. Why.
Why? Why?
Why? You want to know why?
Ask the mayor... (spits)
What did he do to you?
I'll tell you what he did to me.
Ha! That lousy, no-good
politician.
He ran over my dog.
It was two months ago yesterday.
We were setting up my cart,
me and Bugle.
Ever since my wife died, he was...
well, you know, uh...
he was watching the cart.
Then I had trouble with the umbrella.
There was kind of a screw loose.
The next thing I knew...
(horn honking)
Bugle!
He never even saw it coming.
(honking continues)
(slow, echoing): Bugle!
Never had a chance.
Poor mutt.
Died for love.
I'm very sorry, Phil.
Yeah.
I'm touched.
But what does that have to do with the mayor?
It was his garage truck.
It was written right on the side--
"City of Chicago."
Who runs the city?
The mayor.
You gents want some real food?
Anyway...
I made phone calls, I sent letters.
After I buried Bugle,
I figured somebody would want to know.
But nobody ever wrote.
Sauerkraut?
No, thanks.
I called the Sanitation Department,
and they sent me to Pest Control.
Now, is that democracy?
How about relish?
No. Thanks.
Then I went to the Mayor's Office.
I figured that this guy would understand
that when a man loses his dog to a trash truck,
that's a human tragedy.
How come you're not eating?
Vegetarian.
Oh... mm.
Mmm, I even put on
a suit and a tie, the one from my wedding.
I walk in, they tell me he's busy.
Busy! Like I'm not.
I waited three hours.
Three hours!
Then I knew that there's a rat in Denmark.
So you decided to steal his dog?
I'd do it again-- an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
I'd do it again!
You're crazy-- you could go to jail for that.
Not Phil Kazakian.
Let 'em try.
See? What'd I tell you?
Hopeless. You're an embarrassment
to the neighborhood, you know that?
And you was always a weaselly kind of kid.
All right, save it. Look, Phil...
is there some kind of way we can resolve this?
I can't spend the rest of my life chasing
you around town over this.
Okay.
There is something.
I want an apology from the mayor,
in writing, today.
That's what I want.
Come on, let's get out of here.
We're wasting our time. No, no, wait, wait.
Okay.
CHUCK: What?
We'll go see him now. Are you out of your mind?
The mayor doesn't care about some dumb dog.
Hey! Yes, he will.
Don't worry.
He'll see us.
WOMAN: Sorry, the mayor can't see you today.
Here's what I'm trying not to do.
I'm trying not to pick up that phone,
call the alderman, and tell him that
a Miss, uh, what is your name?
Becker.
Miss Becker has kept us waiting for over an hour.
Are you saying you have an appointment with the mayor?
You're taking the line
that we never even had an appointment, is that it?
I don't think that's going to sit very well
with the alderman's ulcers.
Which alderman?
Hmm?
Which alderman?
Spatulatori.
Nice try.
I'm going in. No, wait.
You wait outside. What?!
Very good idea. Outside.
You wait outside, too. Me?
Go! Are you nuts?
Now see what you did?
PHIL: Don't start with me.
CHUCK: Lunatic.
PHIL: Traitor.
Miss, uh... Becker.
Yes?
I apologize for my friends.
But, you see, I've, I've got kind of a problem here.
And I wondered if you could...
well, I wonder if you could help me out.
What kind of problem?
It's kind of a personal problem and, uh,
it would only take a minute.
If you know what I mean.
The bathrooms are in the lobby
and the mayor is busy.
(Patsy barks)
MAYOR GARFIELD: Patsy, come back here.
Who's this?
I told him you were unavailable, sir.
No, nonsense.
A mayor's never too busy to hear from the people.
But you have a lottery drawing
in just a few minutes. I know, I know, I know.
Come in.
Just come right in.
You're the fellow who approached me
in the park, aren't you?
Mr. Flanagan.
RECEPTIONIST: Mayor Garfield's office.
Me? Are you sure?
Your Honor, it wasn't you exactly,
it was one of your trucks.
What kind?
A trash truck.
That's not good.
Trash trucks are for hauling trash, not squashing dogs.
That's Mr. Kazakian's point exactly, sir.
Mr. Mayor. (barking)
Ah, Flanagan, I'm glad you're here.
You're not supposed to be granting interviews.
It's not on the schedule.
This is a special case.
This gentleman has come to me
with a rather serious disclosure.
We've met.
In the park.
That's right.
What kind of disclosure?
It seems one of our constituents
has a grievance with Sanitation.
Garbage? A dog.
Dead.
And what does this constituent want?
An apology.
You're joking.
And I'm going to grant it.
Do you think a personal note will do the trick?
Well, it-it, it might.
FLANAGAN: Of course, Your Honor,
you'd know best in these things.
But are you sure this is wise?
Why not?
FLANAGAN: Think about the implications.
It's just a note.
FLANAGAN: On the face of it, yes.
But we'll have the sanitation union to deal with--
very powerful-- not to mention insurance,
and when this note goes public,
there's bound to be a movement
to refit the trucks' safety issues.
The ASPCA will be all over us.
Oh... Still,
feel free to act on your instincts.
Let me consider those.
Very prudent, sir.
Your Honor, all the man wants is a simple...
Let's let the mayor decide, shall we?
MISS BECKER: Mr. Flanagan.
Mr. Roundtree is on the line.
Uh, let me take that in my office.
(barking)
Your Honor, I hope you won't let that stop you.
I've got it!
An autograph.
How about that?
Signed personally.
Well, I don't think that's necessary.
Nonsense. I don't mind at all.
And send him my best wishes.
Well...
That's the best I can do.
An autograph?
This is it?
What happened to "I'm sorry"?
Well, I-I tried to get it, but before...
It's got numbers on the back!
He couldn't use a clean sheet of paper?
I told you you wouldn't get it.
Listen, I almost got it.
I'm telling you, that Flanagan guy,
he walks in there, he acts like he's the mayor.
I almost felt sorry for the old guy up there.
Politicians are all full it.
And to think that I voted for that shlub.
Hey! People's mayor?!
Then I'm Arnold Schwarz-his-face.
I'm going in. Wait, wait.
Look, Phil!
Now, listen, you've gotta stop this or you're gonna go to jail.
I'm telling you, next time, I'm not going to stop you.
Okay, okay, you're right.
You can't fight city hall.
Exactly.
Yeah, you're right.
That guy, he's really doing the best he can.
What are you doing? No, no...
Hey, hey, let go. Not till you promise.
Okay. I promise.
I promise.
Here.
The killing stops here.
An autograph on a used piece of paper.
Do you think he means that?
Absolutely. Now let's go.
Where?
To buy the lottery ticket.
Okay, go ahead.
I'm going to go home.
FEMALE REPORTER: And, now, to recap:
The Mayor's Met-Pik lottery failed, once more, tonight,
to produce a winner.
Miss Becker. Mm-hmm?
I accidentally left some of my papers in the mayor's office,
and I seem to be missing a particular document.
Have you seen it?
No, was it important?
Probably not.
FEMALE REPORTER (continuing): It brings to seven
the number of drawings without a winning match.
Here you go, Choo-choo.
Mop 'em up with these.
BARTENDER: No thanks.
I got plenty of my own.
Turn these down, will you?
I'm starting to get a migraine.
Oh, don't take it so personally, Chuck.
No one else won either.
No one else isn't me.
I mean, look around you.
People are getting all stressed out.
I'm telling you, we'd be doing this town a favor
by winning the damn thing.
Oh, so now it's your civic duty?
Exactly. Ah!
And here I thought you were just being selfish.
Come on, take your mind off of it.
Tell me about, um, your uncle.
Is it from your mother's side or your father's side?
Both.
Oh, that's interesting. Do I hear banjos playing?
My family's a melting pot.
Name a country, and we have a relative in it-- even Peru.
Don't ask.
They're all crazy,
but Uncle Phil, he's the worst.
Oh, come on, you're exaggerating.
You think so? Yeah.
It's not the first time he pulled a stunt like this.
You remember about ten years ago when Reagan came to town,
and some maniac sat naked on top of a flagpole
to protest Trickle-Down Economics?
Your Uncle Phil?
In the buff.
It wasn't pretty.
They had to reroute the entire parade.
It's no wonder I turned out like this.
You mean a cynic?
I mean broke.
Millions of dollars right at my fingertips.
Just out of reach.
Seven in a row.
What are the odds of that?
RADIO ANNOUNCER: Breaking a record once again,
for the seventh time, no one picked the magic numbers
in the Mayor's Met-Pik lottery.
A spokesman for the Mayor's Office An autograph.
said it was just a case of bad luck,
leaving Chicagoans to ponder their fortunes.
Once again, the numbers no one had were:
10, 13, 26,
29, 39,
and last but not least, 44.
Elsewhere in the news...
(el train rattling in distance)
(cat mewing)
(paper thudding against door)
(inhales)
(cat meows)
(meows)
Oh, no... not again.
Oh, that's great.
That's a good one.
(train whistle blowing, birds singing)
(footfalls approaching)
Phil?
Sorry, we're closed.
Try the luncheonette on Wabash.
You lied to me.
What?
You promised me you were going to stop,
but you aren't going to, are you?
What kind of college was that you went to anyway?
Phil, don't do it.
He liked coming here.
He liked to bark at the trains, smell the ragweed,
catch rats.
He was good at that.
It's a nice view.
Eh, there's city hall.
Look, Phil,
let it go and take the autograph.
No, thank you.
Listen, nothing's gonna bring Bugle back,
and if you keep this up...
That's not what this is all about.
Dogs are dogs,
and principle is principle.
Funny thing.
My relatives came here from all over the world--
Russia, Armenia, Peru.
Don't ask.
They came here because they knew that here,
they would get a fair shake.
It didn't matter if you painted houses
or sold hot dogs.
One guy was as good as the next.
People counted.
But, today,
my God, there-there's something wrong.
The guys in charge-- they say they have no time.
Why, if I would run my cart like that,
I'd be broke in a week.
You know what I'm saying, don't you?
Yeah.
You know, I...
I said that he liked to catch rats.
Eh, he...
I lied.
He never caught one,
that stupid mutt.
You know, you're right.
Nothing will ever bring him back.
It's over.
CHUCK: That's what he told you?
Don't believe him.
He's lying.
Chuck, he's your uncle.
CHUCK: Twice removed.
I say let him go to jail.
So much for blood being thicker than water.
Look, the guy said he'd stop, and I for one believe him.
Gare, I've known him for 20 years.
He's out of his mind.
Look, he's an old man.
So, he's a little hotheaded.
So was Genghis Khan.
You tried to help him twice.
Just forget about it; let it go.
I can't do that. Why not?
Because the guy cares.
I mean, he-he believes in things
that most of us take for granted.
Phil? Like what?
Like, uh... like truth, like justice.
Like the American way?
I'm getting out of here
before you start singing the national anthem.
Oh,
by the way, Gary, let me remind you of six numbers
that appear in my newspaper that begin with a ten and
end with a 44.
MARISSA: What's that?
CHUCK: Last night's
lottery numbers.
The one that no one won.
The one that broke my heart.
I'm getting out of here. Here.
Keep it. A little souvenir.
Don't mind him.
He was born that way.
(instrumental blues playing in background)
GARY: I don't believe it.
Gary, what is it?
I don't believe it.
FLANAGAN: Where is it? Damn it.
It's got to be here somewhere.
Come on...
That's my desk.
So it is.
You mind if I ask what you're doing in it?
I'm missing a document.
Nothing you need to know about.
As usual.
Are you spying on me?
It's my office.
What are you doing here, anyway?
I was going over some cabinet memos,
notes on meetings.
Has any of this been in my briefings?
W-Where did you get those?
You don't need to have those.
Tom...
something's not right.
Really?
With what? Oh...
The other day in the park;
that fellow; the press--
Which is why I suggested skipping those walks.
That's not what I mean.
I haven't been paying attention.
To what?
To what's going on in my city.
I have lost touch with the people.
I-I think...
You didn't get elected to think.
What?!
Nothing.
Just a minute.
It seems to me I have a right to...
No, you don't.
You gave up that right the day you said:
"Make me mayor."
You're an image, Your Honor, an image
I made.
Go home, Your Honor.
It's late.
GARY: Yesterday's numbers,
the piece of paper the mayor gave Phil.
You want to help me out here?
They match.
So someone wrote down some numbers-- so what?
So Phil had this yesterday, before the lottery closed,
so that means that somebody knew the numbers
before they were picked.
Someone who?
Well, I don't know.
I mean, the mayor, uh...
But that doesn't make any sense.
I mean, if they had the numbers, why didn't they win?
That's a good question.
What happens if nobody wins this damn thing at all?
I'm not sure.
BARTENDER: I know.
Ten rollovers in a row,
and the jackpot goes back to zero.
The money reverts to the city.
Some kind of a fund or something.
I gotta go.
Where?
To see the mayor.
At this hour?
Hey, Pete, get Marissa a cab, would you?
FEMALE OFFICER (over radio): 73, go ahead.
MALE OFFICER (over radio): 1518 West 158th.
FEMALE OFFICER: That's one-five-one-eight West one-five-eight Street?
MALE OFFICER: That's a roger.
(radio communication continues indistinctly)
I don't get it.
When did I approve this?
(sighs)
An image, he said.
An image he made.
Me, the best alderman the 7th District ever had,
right, Patsy?
(growls)
(shoes squeaking)
The worst thing is...
(Patsy growls)
...I let it happen.
I told myself I was doing some good.
Yeah.
I've done nothing
except kid myself.
(barking)
Patsy?
What is it?
Hello?
Is someone there?
Hello?
Hello?!
(shoes squeaking)
Who are you?
What do you want?
Phil Kazakian... citizen!
(shoes squeaking)
(screaming)
(groans)
Aah...
I came for your dog.
(Patsy barking)
MALE OFFICER (over radio): Two Robert 82.
Receive clear from Hyperion?
Excuse me... does the mayor live here?
Yeah. Thank you.
Hold it. You can't go in there.
That's all right. I gotta talk to the mayor.
It's-It's okay, Dave.
I was expecting this gentleman.
(indistinct police radio communication)
How did you know I was going to be here?
PHIL: I told him.
By the way, you're late.
(muttering): Oh, not again.
What are you doing here? You promised.
Sue me.
Sue you...?
Excuse me for interrupting,
but before I have you drawn and quartered,
would somebody like to tell me what's going on?
(sighs)
PHIL: Your Honor, it's about a rat in Denmark.
RADIO ANNOUNCER: Good morning.
It's Sunday in Chicago,
where lottery fever has once again reached its peak.
The jackpot stands
at nearly 20 million and counting,
with Met-Pik machines staying open till 7:00 tonight.
And from Las Vegas,
news that odds-makers have posted seven-to-one odds
against another Met-Pik mismatch.
So if you're thinking about it,
there's still time to go out and buy
your lottery ticket for tonight's big drawing.
(paper thudding against door, cat meowing)
Now, a quick look at traffic.
We have a backup northbound on the Dan Ryan,
due to some construction.
The Eisenhower is looking like smooth sailing into the Loop.
And the Stevenson was clear sailing
up until a couple of minutes ago...
Stay off the furniture.
(radio broadcast continues in background)
Chuck, it's me.
Feel like buying a lottery ticket?
(indistinct conversations)
WOMAN: Hup! Heads up.
(reporters clamoring)
All right, everyone be patient.
His Honor will be here soon.
Mr. Flanagan, does the mayor expect to find a winner tonight?
Absolutely. We all do.
Uh, sir, is there any truth to the rumors
that the mayor's planning on making a statement?
Well, of course, that would be up to him.
(reporters clamoring)
Excuse me.
(reporters clamoring, calling out)
FLANAGAN: We need to talk-- now.
What kind of statement?
None that I know of.
Not allowed. Check it out.
(sighs)
(door shuts)
Roger?
Huh? Ready?
Uh, yeah, yeah, just about. Just be sure
you don't screw it up.
I need this to go without a hitch.
Uh-huh.
It's the last time.
Make it work.
Oh, come on, baby.
Find that missing number.
Come on. Hurry up.
What, did you break a leg or something?
What's your hurry?
What's my hurry?
I'll tell you my hurry.
It's a two with seven zeros after it.
(siren wailing in distance)
Well, here we are.
Wish me luck.
You don't need luck.
You need a smaller car.
I'll keep that in mind.
By the way, I'm sorry about your dog.
Put it in writing.
Thanks, Pete.
Uh, Mr. Mayor, glad you could make it.
Thanks, Tom. So am I.
I have prepared a statement for you to...
Oh, don't bother. I've got my own.
Ah, the members of the press.
(reporters clamoring) How are we doing tonight?
(reporters shouting out questions, all at once)
Okay.
Let's get in here and buy, buy, buy.
No, no, no, no-- not yet.
Are you nuts?
The thing closes in six minutes.
Five minutes.
What is your problem?
I don't know, I just, I don't feel lucky yet.
Ah... gum.
Gary...
you don't need to feel lucky.
You got the numbers right there in the paper.
Can I help you?
Spearmint.
Oh, I get it.
You're trying to torture me, aren't you, huh?
This is kind some kind of sick revenge.
You want some gum?
MAYOR GARFIELD: We're working on that at this moment,
and I think that we can do even better.
I agree the infrastructure situation needs
a thorough review, as well as certain funds.
Excuse me, sir.
We'll need you in makeup.
I'm going to answer more questions later.
REPORTER: Thank you, Mr. Mayor.
Is he okay?
I think so. Why?
He talked to us.
By himself.
FLOOR DIRECTOR: Ladies and gentlemen, please clear the floor.
We're on the air in ten.
He's making statements.
About what? Well, I didn't hear it all,
but I think it was about the emergency fund.
No, you heard wrong.
He's not smart enough to know about that.
But he was... I said you misheard.
Roundtree, where are we?
Getting ready to program the onstage computer.
Wait a little longer.
Uh, that's cutting it pretty close.
It takes ten minutes...
I don't care how long it takes.
I said wait.
Can I buy a bag of those peanuts back there?
CHUCK: Look, don't do this. My heart can't take it.
Would you buy a ticket?
Well, how much longer?
Three minutes.
(mumbling): Three minutes.
You want a peanut?
No.
There's still two minutes.
You're sure no one will pick it?
It's never happened before.
I mean, for somebody to pick it now-- huh!
They'd have to be a psychic.
FLANAGAN: There it is.
29, 6...
GARY: Seventeen...
CHUCK: Seventeen.
Thirty-eight.
Three, eight.
Twenty. Twenty.
...and seven.
GARY: Yes, it's in.
We did it.
Do it?
Do it.
Yes! Yes! Yes!
Gare?
I gotta go.
Hey, when do I get my share?
Six weeks.
Once it slips through the mayor's fund.
Hey, don't you feel bad about this?
I mean, scheming right out from under the mayor's nose?
I paid my dues.
He gets the mansion, I'll settle for this.
I'm not greedy.
But...
(beeping)
Okay, this is it. From now on, things are going to be different.
FLOOR DIRECTOR: Quiet, everybody!
You and I are going to be on Easy Street.
FLOOR DIRECTOR: Here we go-- five, four, three...
ANNOUNCER: Ladies and gentlemen, Mayor Garfield.
Well, here we are, again.
I know you're all anxious to get to the drawing.
Oh, there's an understatement.
GARFIELD: But before we do,
I have something to say to the people of Chicago.
Oh, man.
Get it out.
I know you've been unhappy.
Well, I have, too,
and tonight, I want to straighten that out.
Sometimes a politician loses sight of what's important,
and I don't mean legislation
or highways or even lotteries twice a week.
Sometimes, in trying to be all things to everyone,
he ends up being nothing to all.
Got that right. Yeah. Mm-hmm.
But I'll tell you this, I can't take this.
starting tomorrow, I gotta go to the john.
things will be different, Look, wait here.
for the guy in the street, and for the guy in the mansion.
Starting tomorrow, my door is open to all.
That's how I started out,
that's how I'm going to finish up.
Attaboy, Mr. Mayor.
So, now, miss, if you will do the honors.
(fanfare playing)
Here we go.
ANNOUNCER: Our onstage MET-PIK computer is busy shuffling those numbers
in random order.
(beeping, clicking)
GARFIELD: Twenty-nine,
six, seventeen,
38, 20, and seven.
Those are the numbers.
And now, miss, do we have a winning match?
Not a chance.
(bell clanging)
We have a winner!
No.
And a loser.
What's this?
OFFICER: You're under arrest, sir.
Conspiracy to fraud,
misuse of city property.
You have no proof of that.
Um, actually, they might.
Let me talk to the mayor.
Sorry, the mayor can't see you. Come on.
Hey, come on.
You have the right to remain silent.
If you give up that right...
What happened?
Did we win?
Gary?
Gary?!
(reporters clamoring)
Me? I'd keep it.
Yeah? Sure.
If I figured I bought it, it's rightfully mine.
I'd get myself another cart--
maybe two-- with chrome, maybe a puppy.
You're going to do that anyway.
So, what's it going to be?
I don't know.
I figure I can get one of these anywhere.
You know, what I really need is a job.
Well, so why don't you come and work with me?
Selling hot dogs?!
Why not? Flexible hours, room to advance.
I forgot.
You're a vegetarian.
Well, how about maybe a newspaper reporter?
Oh, no, no. No thank you.
You know, I came here on a tuna boat...
CHUCK: Ah, well.
Easy come, easy go.
It's a great country, isn't it?
CHUCK: Who needs 20 million clams, anyway?
After all, this is America
where every day is a new deal,
and dreams are worth their weight in gold.
(cat meowing)
Where the little guy can reach the top,
even if he has to crawl up a drain pipe to get there.
And where, sooner or later,
everyone has a shot
at getting exactly what they deserve.
Sister Mary Agnes found a winning lottery ticket
on her doorstep, and donated the dough
to a foster care center...
...which, by the way,
is exactly what I would have done.
(cat meows)
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