ACT III
Chief, I just received a call from granny. Because they do not have an outhouse—
Miss Hathaway, tell them to sh́t in the toilet like everybody else. I am busy right now.
...Because they do not have an outhouse, the Clampett's are leaving for back home tomorrow. They want to know if we have enough sacks for their money in small bills.
No, no, this can't be. What have you done, Miss Hathaway?
It's not me, chief. Elly's stool is so foul, the Clampett's feel they need an outhouse to disguise the smell, if Elly is ever to find a husband.
Those scoundrels on the city council! How dare they deny my largest depositors an outhouse again?
Chief, fear not, I already have Jethro half potty trained.
Half? What do you mean half? Consider yourself on half pay, then. Get over there and get him fully trained, so you can start on the rest of the family. This is all your fault. I hold you fully responsible.
Chief, you can only go so fast with a young un'.
Young un', my foot. You get over there and finish his potty training.
I don't know how to go any faster. He is gradually accepting the idea.
I don't care what you have to do. Give him a blumpkin, if that'll help.
I will have to look that word up.
While you do that, I will get a hold of the studio. I want to see Dash Ripcord and Bolt Upright in my office within the hour. Those two musclebound Oliviers are finally going to work for their money. They will fight over Elly May's turds, or neither will have their contracts renewed next month. We want a down home, hillbilly engagement.
Brilliant, chief.
What are you still doing here? Get down home.
* * * * *
ACT IV
Now, Jethro, dear boy, drop your trousers, like a big lad, and sit down and grunt like I told you.
I cain't, miss Jane. It just don't feel right without a bed pan or a stump.
Perhaps a blumpkin might help.
I loves pumpkin, if its anything like that.
Even better, dear boy. Now you grunt, while miss Jane polishes your fireman's hat to a high gloss. Ummm, ummm, so good.
Why, miss Jane, them blumpkins beats pumpkins all to heck. No! don't stop now!
But you are standing up, dear boy..
No I hain't. That's a big ol' turd jacking me off the seat. I done done it, miss Jane. I sh́t me a beaver tail in the commode.
Why, yes, that is a merde royale, isn't it, you young swain?
I ain't through yet. This un'll jack me up another three or four inches yet. Then I'll take the hacksaw and start to cuttin' on it. Can I have me some more blumpkins, please, miss Jane?
How sweet of you to ask, Jethro. Since your feet are now off the floor, balance yourself on that emerging log and grunt just a few more times for Janey, and you shall have your blumpkin. Glug! Glug! Glug! Glug! Glug!
Miss Jane, I sure loves them blumpkins.
Yes, dear boy. You blew two monster loads at once. O-o-o-o-o-h! You are now fully potty trained. Of course it may take a few more expert lessons to cement the knowledge permanently.
Yes, Ma'am, miss Jane. Will you be goin' with me to the commode all the time from now on?
Ummm, you young Casanova, as often as I can. But I have other duties, you know? Of course, there is a way around that, if you carried me over the threshold of a doorway.
Hot diggity! Now I'm gonna get me blumpkins all the time.
Put me down, Jethro. That is not what I meant about a doorway.
Shucks, miss Jane, I done forgot anyhow. I won't be able to get me no more blumpkins from ye. Uncle Jed says we goin' back to the hills tomorrow. I don't know why he all of a sudden changed his mind. You said it yourself, I'm done potty trained. I'm ready for Hollywood so-ciety.
The problem is not you, dear boy.
Well, what is it then?
Elly May's stool.
Her stool?
Her stool stinks so bad your uncle and granny think she will never get a husband in Beverly Hills.
Why, that's plum crazy. Why don't they just throw it out?
Oh, they have been, and Mrs. Drysdale's roses are benefiting. But Granny and Jed do not feel that being a good neighbor outweighs marrying Elly May off.
Shucks.