The All New 'Leave it to Beaver'



Scene 1: The Cleavers are gathered around the table, heads bowed in prayer. The table is empty except for a glass of milk in front of Beaver, a martini in front of June, and a Dr. Pepper in front of the omnipresent empty chair.

 Ward: …and bring your vengeance down upon the evil butcher who has befouled the lovely town of Mayfield. I’ll help you Lord………. God bless most of the Supreme Court and please feel free to call Justice Ruth home to her castle in the sky,  and…………………

 Disembodied voice: He’s gone to sleep, Beaver.   


 [Beaver snickers. June raises her head and shoots him a dirty look before draining the rest of her martini]

 Ward:  zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz             


 [Doorbell rings]

 Ward [startled]: Amen.  

<big laughs>

 June: That’s our dinner.

June rises and crosses to the door. We see the Chinese delivery boy (guest staring ‘The Claw’ from ‘Get Smart’) carrying two large white paper delivery bags.

 June: You’re right on time. How much do I owe you Mister… Mister…

 Delivery boy: Craw. Sixteen thirty-five.

 June: [Handing him a twenty] Keep the change Mister Craw.

 Delivery boy [exiting]: It’s the Craw. Not the Craw. 

<laughs and applause>

 Beaver: Hey Dad, how come that guy only had one hand?

 Ward: He probably cut it off trying to skin a cat. <laughs> Come on June, I’m starving. Let’s eat.

 [happy music as eating commences]

 June [wary, opening a carton]: Ward, what’s this in the Moo Shu Pork. It looks kind of like a, a, a…

 Ward [shouting]: A DEAD RAT!   <groans>  WHAT THE HELL!

 Beaver: Dad, this Won Ton soup tastes like peepee. 


 Ward: Now, Beaver, how would you know what peepee tastes like? [Tastes soup. Danny Thomas spit take] IT DOES TASTE LIKE PEEPEE! Somebody has contaminated our dinner! I’ll just bet it’s that butcher Saddam. 

 <boos, hisses>

 Beaver [breaking open a fortune cookie and reading]: You will die the slow agonizing death of a rabid cur…

 June [panicked, running to the martini shaker]: Who’s behind this trava… trava..

 Ward: For God’s sake, June. The word is travesty.  


Two loud bangs on the door, followed by a mortar shell, which blows the door to tiny pieces. A small Korean man with a huge butcher knife walks in through the rubble.

 All: Yiii! It’s Mister Wong!

 Jong: Not the Wong! The Jong!

 All: Yiii! It’s Mister Jong!

 Ward [standing]: Now see here Mister Wong, you can’t just waltz in here like that and threaten us with a huge butcher knife. That will not fly. Not in this household. As president of this family and the city of Mayfair and the whole United States of America, I demand that you not kill us.

 Jong: But I want to kirr you. Have many weapons. Your brud wirr run rike the mighty Chongchon River… [cunningly] Enjoying your dinner?

 Ward [flustered]: Uh, yes, yes indeed, very much Mister Wong…



 Ward: Jong. Jong. The Cleavers always love Jong’s Korean-Chinese Carryout. A family favorite. You bet! [pause] Say, that new delivery boy, didn’t he used to work at Saddam’s butcher shop?

 Jong [exiting through hole where door used to be]:  You mind you own business, President Creaver.

 Ward [shouting after Jong]: Yes sir. You bet I will. Thank you very much, Mister Wong.

 Jong [in the distance]: NOT WONG! JONG! 

 <laughs; fade>

Scene 2:  Beaver’s bedroom. Beaver is lying on his back in the bottom bunk, talking to a disembodied voice on the top bunk. His cute little pajamas are patterned in ten-gallon hats and six guns. A large cowboy lamp – horse rearing - illuminates the room.

 Beaver: Gee Wally, why did Dad act like such a big pussy with Mister Wong?

 Wally: He wasn’t acting like a pussy, Beaver. He’s just got other things on his mind, that’s all.

 Beaver: Like what, Wally? Señor Fox next door said Dad didn’t have a mind to lose.


 Wally: You know, Beaver, stuff. Like Saddam the Butcher. 

 <boos, hisses>

 Beaver: Why, Wally? All Mister Saddam did was sell us ground chuck instead of ground sirloin… Mister Wong put a dead mouse in our Moo Shu pork. And he blew up the front door.


 Wally: That’s not all Mister Saddam did, Beaver. I see a lot of things. Heck, one of the best things about not existing is that you can see everything. Let me show you.

 Beaver: How, Wally?

 Wally: It’s simple, squirt. Since I’m not a corporal being, I can bend the laws of time and space. Watch this.

  <oohs, ohs, ahhs>

 Scene: Wavy lines roll across the screen as the picture fades out. When it fades back in, we are in a kitchen quite similar to the one that Beaver knows so well. What the hell, it is identical. That makes it twice as hilarious.  At the table sit Grandpa Cleaver (guest star George Bush Sr.), Grandma Cleaver (oh, you know), and Uncles Jeb (ibid), Neil (ibid), and young Ward (guest starring the old Ward). Dinner looks sumptuous. It’s Pork Chop Night! Grandpa and Grandma are sipping ice tea, and the boys all have a nice glass of milk (except young Ward, who is ignoring his food and drinking from a fifth of Jack Daniels).

 Grandpa: Mmm mmm.

 Grandma: Mmm mmm. Feed me.

 Jeb & Neil: Mmm mmm. Mmm mmm.

 Young Ward: Fuckin sunofabitch greasy goddamn pork chop.


 Grandpa: Only one pork chop left boys. Who’s gonna get it? Could it be my little future president Jebby?

 Jeb: Oh boy!

 Young Ward [mumbling]: You can shove the fuckin chop up your ass, old man.


 Grandma: Don’t tease the boys, George. You know that you always take the last chop. After all, you’ve got a legacy to build.

 Grandpa [reaching over to spear the chop]: Read my lips. I’m gonna eat it!

Smoke begins to pour out of the chop as soon as it reaches Grandpa’s plate

 Pork Chop: BOOM!

 Grandpa: Good heavens. Good heavens. I’ve been porked.

 Young Ward [Drops bottle. Danny Thomas spit take]: Holy shit!

 Grandpa: Good heavens. Good heavens.

 Grandma: Why it must be that butcher Saddam. You tear him a new asshole, Young Ward. You’re the only one here with the guts to do it.

 Scene Wavy lines roll across the screen and the picture returns to the present.

 Wally: So you see Beaver, that’s the reason Dad hates Mister Saddam so much.

 Beaver: Yeah?

 Wally: Yeah.

 Beaver: That explains a lot. Thanks, Wally.

 Wally: Sure, Beav.


 Beaver: I always wondered why we never have pork chop night around here.

 Music. Fade.


© 2003, Mark Hoback