Passages in italics have been changed since the first version of the story.
Narrator: In the morning, Michael at first believed that he had dreamed the whole encounter with GOB.
Michael woke up and said to himself, "It was just a nightmare." But then he got out of bed and stepped on some candy beans on the floor. "(Bleep)."
Sitting back down, Michael brushed the crushed beans off the bottom of his cast, then huddled with his knees in front of him. He groaned. "What am I gonna do? I've gotta kick GOB out of the house."
At that moment, George Michael knocked on the door and called to him, "Dad? Dad are you up yet? You need any help getting dressed?"
Michael flinched and gulped. "Uh, no. I'm--I'm not going to work today."
"Yeah, and not for two weeks," his son said with a hopeful grin. "But how about getting ready for breakfast, or do you wanna have breakfast in bed?" He tried to open the door and come in, but couldn't. "Dad, it's locked. Can you open it?"
Michael felt reluctant to see anyone just now. "I'm--I'm not really hungry. Can you come back later?"
"But I have to go to school soon. Besides, you shouldn't lock the door, Dad, in case we have to come in and help you. Can you even get out of bed?"
Michael sighed and looked at his crutches, resting on the chest at the foot of his bed. But he still didn't want to get up, and he picked up Tracy's photo from the nightstand again. "I'm tired. Just let me sleep in."
"But you went to bed early last night. What's wrong?" Getting worried, George Michael went off and knocked on Lindsay's door. "Aunt Lindsay, Uncle GOB! Dad's locked himself in."
Lindsay yawned and came out in her pajamas. "What, he can't get out?"
"No, it's locked."
Lindsay tried the door and asked, "Michael, can't you get up? What happened to your crutches?"
"Nothing. I-I just wanna stay in bed. I'll come out later."
"Oh come on! George Michael just wants to see that you're okay." She teased, "Did you fall down or something? Or are you just cranky?"
Maeby also entered the hallway yawning. "What's going on?"
"My dad's locked in, and I don't think he can get up. Do you know how to open a door with a credit card, or a hairpin?"
Maeby scratched her head and reminded him who knew how to break into places. "What about Uncle GOB?"
"Oh, right! Thanks."
Narrator: GOB remained in bed and pretended to be asleep. He knew that last night wasn't a dream.
GOB lay in the twin bed and sighed mournfully, "Michael..."
George Michael came in and shook him. "Uncle GOB, wake up. I need your help. You still got your lock pick set, right?"
Narrator: GOB had once given George Michael the lock pick set to break into the permit office.
Clip from Charity Drive, of George Michael and Maeby breaking into the office to plant files from the Bluth company.
In bed, GOB shrugged off his nephew and pouted. "It's in my other pants. My stripper pants." That made him choke up.
"What's the matter?"
Tired of all the fuss, Michael finally put down the photo and got out of bed, reaching for his crutches. "All right! I'll unlock it."
George Michael rushed back to the hallway, and when Michael at last opened the door, he hugged him in relief.
Michael half embraced him while balancing on his crutches, but could not meet his son's eyes. "I'm fine. See?"
"Good," Lindsay said. "But don't lock your door anymore, Michael, until you get better."
"Yeah." Maeby left to get dressed, while Lindsay returned to her room.
George Michael asked his dad, "You didn't really fall down, did you?"
"No." Michael still looked away and sighed. "I-I just want to go back to bed now, okay?" He turned on his crutches and hobbled away again. "You go get ready for school."
But George Michael stayed. "Are you sure you don't want some breakfast, Dad? Look, I'll add a little flavor this time, for you. As long as you take your medicine first." He reached for the pill bottles on the nightstand, but stepped on some candy beans and looked down.
"(Bleep)." Michael sank down onto the bed and dropped the crutches.
George Michael asked, "Candy beans? Where'd you get these?"
Michael didn't answer, just putting his head down on his knees and feeling deeply ashamed again.
"Never mind. It doesn't matter." George Michael shrugged good-naturedly. "But are you gonna be okay, Dad? How many did you eat?" He knelt down and started cleaning up the mess on the floor.
Since the door was open, Lindsay came back and said, "Hey, Michael, I had an idea. You should try some herbal tea from Ancient Chinese Secret. I don't think it counts as caffeine, and--what's going on?"
George Michael told her, "Dad ate a thing of candy beans, and he doesn't feel well."
She laughed in amusement. "Really? So that's why you wouldn't open the door, because you didn't want to get caught. Naughty, naughty Michael!"
Michael groaned and lay down, pulling the covers over him again.
Narrator: While Lindsay and George Michael fussed over Michael, George Sr. came home after spending the night in his stolen SUV.
Clip of George Sr. wearing a wig from his God costume and driving around last night in the white Ford Escape. Then he parks it in the Sudden Valley lot, but far enough away from the house that it's hidden by the hills. Shutting off the engine, he lowers the seat and sleeps, welcoming the change after sleeping in the attic.
In the morning, George Sr. walked into the model home through the front door and looked around, hoping to sneak back up to the attic unseen, or with some assistance. "Tobias? Where are you?"
Tobias came out of the foyer bathroom, where he was fixing his Mrs. Featherbottom disguise. "Oscar?"
He hissed, "No, it's me, George, you idiot!"
"Oh, right. The glasses. But what are you doing down here?"
"I sneaked out of the house last night and followed Oscar and them home. I just wanted to teach that bastard a lesson for (bleep)ing my wife!"
"What'd you do?"
"Nothing. I couldn't get past the gate to Balboa Towers, because the night guard didn't believe that I was Oscar; he already saw Oscar come in with Buster and Lucille. Then he threatened to call the police on me, so I had to knock him out and get out of there fast. I almost had to ditch my car somewhere too, but thankfully there are a lot of SUVs that look just like mine..."
Clip of the police cars mistakenly chasing after a white SUV, only to discover that they've got Stan Sitwell, with a bad wig and eyebrows, instead.
Narrator: Stan Sitwell had recently given up his Corvette, due to his alopecia...
Clip from Burning Love of Sitwell's fake hair blowing off as he drives with the top down.
Narrator: …and his new girlfriend's problem with vertigo.
Clip from Queen for a Day of Lucille Austero looking ill as Michael gives her a ride with the top down.
Back at the model home, George Sr. continued, "So you gotta help me get back to the attic now. Are they awake already?"
Tobias said, "Well I did hear voices and some hullabaloo going on. I think something happened with Michael, and--"
"Someone's coming!" George Sr. ducked into the bathroom.
Tobias quickly put on his wig and resumed his fake accent. "Well, hello, Master GOB! Good morning to you."
"Huh?" GOB looked up, still preoccupied as he slunk down the stairs. "Oh, it's you."
"Yes, it certainly is," Mrs. Featherbottom confirmed cheerfully. "May I ask what's all the noise upstairs? Does Master Bluth need some help?"
GOB shook his head forlornly. "No. No, he doesn't want help, and he doesn't wanna see me, or..." He looked into the distance and just repeated, "Michael," again.
Puzzled, Mrs. Featherbottom hurried upstairs past him and asked what was going on. "Excuse me. Is there anything wrong here?"
Coming out of the bathroom, Maeby replied sarcastically, "No more than usual," then went to get her things for school (and work).
George Michael finally agreed to go get ready for school, so he left his dad's room and nearly collided with Maeby in their room.
Mrs. Featherbottom peeked into Michael's room and asked, "May I be of assistance?"
Lindsay re-closed Michael's pill bottles and said brightly, "No. Why don't you get started on breakfast now? But none for Michael. He's had plenty!"
"Very well, ma'am." Mrs. Featherbottom withdrew and shut the door, hoping to sneak George Sr. to the attic while everyone was occupied.
Lindsay sat on Michael's bed and asked him, "Are you sure you're all right? You just wanna stay in bed?"
Michael nodded and burrowed deeper under the covers.
"Well, okay," Lindsay said, but suspected that he was holding something back. She knew her twin brother very well. "But let us know if you need anything, Michael. You don't have to be in control all time, and George Michael would be upset if you got any worse, just because you were too embarrassed or afraid to ask for help."
She patted his head affectionately, and Michael thought that maybe he could confess to Lindsay what happened last night; after all, he had confided in her about his feelings for Marta last year. "Lindsay?"
"What?"
Michael looked up at her, but then he realized that, even if he got drunk again, he just couldn't tell her what he did with GOB, their own brother. "Never mind."
Lindsay watched his face and asked, "You want me to stay with you a while?"
"No."
After a hesitation, Lindsay shrugged and went back to her bedroom.
Downstairs, Mrs. Featherbottom began cooking breakfast.
After leaving the stairs, GOB walked into the living room and found his Segway where he'd left it. He sadly ran his fingers over the "present" lettering and wondered whether he should leave now on it. But where would he go? Back to stay at the office, until Michael came back to work? Then where? GOB decided to pour himself a drink from the wet bar, then he lay on the leather couch in the study.
Narrator: After the kids left for school, Lindsay ate breakfast and tried to chat with GOB, but found him unresponsive.
With a chuckle, Lindsay told GOB how Michael wouldn't unlock his door earlier, and how he got caught with candy beans in his room.
GOB just sighed from the couch, as he moped and nursed his drink.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked. "You love making fun of Michael. He's so self-righteously superior and moral all the time."
GOB nodded and muttered to himself, "So moral."
Grabbing her keys to the stair car, Lindsay got up from the table and told GOB, "Well, anyway, you watch him now, okay? I've got to go to the office and set up that teleconferencing that Michael asked for. Bye."
"Goodbye, Lady Lindsay!" Mrs. Featherbottom curtseyed dramatically and collected her dirty dishes to wash. She asked, "Are you sure there's nothing I can get for you Master GOB? Some bangers in the mouth, perhaps?"
"No." GOB only wanted candy beans, and he didn't really know what "bangers" were, anyway.
Mrs. Featherbottom said, "Well, if there's nothing else, then I think I shall go upstairs and check on Master Bluth." She put the dishes in the sink, and eagerly climbed the steps.
GOB lay there for some time, missing Michael and not knowing what to do. He would pack up and go, if he had a more substantial vehicle than a Segway.
But then he heard Michael arguing heatedly with Mrs. Featherbottom upstairs. "No! No, I don't want a banger in the mouth!"
"Well, how about a sponge bath?"
"No! Get out! Don't you have things to do in the attic?"
"Oh, am I permitted to go up there again, sir?"
Michael spoke more cryptically, "You know what I mean. The tray you took upstairs last night. You should clean up any mess that's still lying around there."
"Oh, um, yes, Master Bluth." So Mrs. Featherbottom scurried out of his room and up to the attic.
GOB wondered what Michael was thinking, and almost went upstairs to stop Mrs. Featherbottom from touching Tracy's clothes again. But he frowned and realized that maybe Michael meant to have the attic cleared of his things.
In a moment, there came another a noise on the stairs, and GOB saw Michael trudging along on his crutches. GOB stood up and approached the living room, setting down his drink on a nearby table.
From the stairs, Michael could not at first see GOB in the study, so he hoped that his brother might have left the house already, but then he came down the foyer steps and spotted GOB standing in the study doorway. Michael hesitated and caught his breath, almost losing his nerve. But having come downstairs already, he continued into the room.
GOB entered the living room as well and searched for something to say to him. "Michael. You, uh, weren't really sick, were you?"
"No," Michael answered, not looking directly at GOB. "It wasn't my ulcer." He hobbled to the big armchair and lowered himself onto it, still feeling dirty and guilty. Then he gulped and finally whispered, "Did you--did you tell anyone what happened?"
"No." GOB tried to sit down on the arm of the chair, but seeing Michael's anxious look, he settled on the ottoman instead.
Michael moved his legs off the ottoman and stared at the floor. "Are you sure Lindsay didn't see you sneak out or in last night?"
"No. She slept through it."
"Good." Michael looked somewhat relieved, but he still glanced around nervously, wondering whether George Sr. and Tobias might be spying on them right now through an air vent. Even trying to figure out what they were whispering about.
GOB ventured, "I-I'm sorry, Michael. It's just that--"
"Shh!" Michael raised a hand and met his eyes for a moment before turning away again. "Um, GOB, I-I think you should move out of here. It would be... more comfortable for me if you did."
Not very surprised, GOB said, "Okay," and started to stand up. "So I guess I'll--I'll go pack my stuffs."
"Not yet," Michael said. "Mrs. Featherbottom is busy there right now. Besides, you--you have to find some place else to stay first."
"Right," GOB answered, sitting down again.
Michael asked him, "Do you have enough money for an apartment or a yacht or something?"
GOB shrugged. "I, um, I don't know. Barry said that the divorce was going to cost me a lot of money. But I guess I could stay at the office for a while, if you don't mind?"
Shaking his head, Michael suggested, "No, you should get a real apartment, GOB. Some place more... permanent."
GOB wondered if this meant that he wasn't welcome in the model home anymore.
Michael said, "Uh, you can keep getting your company paycheck for a while, to pay for the divorce, but don't--don't hang around the office, please. Especially when I get back..."
"I-I know." GOB nodded sadly. "You could mail it to me."
"Yeah. And maybe you could--you could go do your magic act with Buster and Tony Wonder again."
"Sure." GOB tried to look on the bright side. "Yeah, he still wanted us for the Use Your Allusion DVD. He's getting me back into the Magician's Alliance."
"Yeah, great," Michael said without interest. "So, go work on that with Buster, okay? You can always get your stuff out of the attic later. Just, um, let me know when you're coming over."
"Yeah, um, I'll call ahead." He sensed that Michael wanted to be able to hide from him or not be home at all.
"Good." Michael still avoided his brother's eyes and sighed heavily. At last, he said, "Goodbye, GOB."
"Uh, goodbye." GOB stood up again and looked at Michael, wondering if this goodbye was final. If it was, could he hug Michael one last time?
Michael cleared his throat firmly and repeated, "Goodbye, GOB."
"Goodbye, Michael." GOB turned away and grabbed his Segway, going out the front door with it.
Michael closed his eyes and felt sick inside.
