If Sam Wainwright Says “Hee-Haw” One More Time, I’m Going to Fucking Kill Him
So, we’re watching The Bells of St. Mary’s for the fifth time—wholesome movie, so much more fun than hot jazz and lively bars—when some fella in the balcony starts hollering, “Hee-haw!” at me. “Is that man drunk, daddy?” whispers Zuzu, afraid. “No,” I sigh, sinking lower into my seat. “That’s just Sam Wainwright.”
George Bailey here. I love Sam Wainwright, I really do. But if he says, “Hee-haw!” one more time, I’m going to fucking kill him.
His speech at my father’s funeral? “Hee-haw.” My wedding toast? “Hee-haw.” His honeymoon night? “Hee-haw,” over and over again. I only know this because his fancy, fur-draped wife came crying to Mary and asked if that was normal. It is not normal.
The first time was funny, I admit. A human being acting like a donkey? It’s a good bit, and the floppy-donkey-ears-with-hands thing really drove it home. But we were ten then. Now we’re middle-aged. Is it too much to ask to work and pay and love and die in this town without being subjected to a local millionaire’s incessant braying?
It’s the one thing Mr. Potter and my father agreed upon. “You’re pathetic, Bailey, but at least you don’t say ‘hee-haw’ and make donkey ears,” he growled at a contentious board meeting. The whole board uncharacteristically nodded in agreement, and my father and Potter shared a quick, surprised smile. Then Mr. Potter unveiled his plan to enslave the town’s Italian people.
It’s not just the hee-haws. I mean, would it kill Sam to toss me a few bucks? I told him about plastic from soybeans. I gave him the hot tip on the old tool and machinery works. He’s a literal millionaire, and I make, get this, forty-five dollars a week. He calls me his best friend; meanwhile, my family of six is squatting in an abandoned mansion. I can’t even afford wood glue for my banister knob.
Do you remember the telegram from London after Uncle Billy—don’t even get me started with that guy—lost the money? “My office instructed to advance you up to $25,000. Stop. Hee-haw and Merry Christmas, Sam Wainwright.” I am forever grateful, of course. But honestly? I’d rather be in jail, away from the hee-haws. That night, the whole town came together to support me, yet all I could think about was a confused Western Union clerk in London taking dictation from a middle-aged donkey enthusiast from America. Also, I’ve never been to London, or anywhere else, because there seems to be a far-reaching conspiracy to keep me from ever leaving Bedford Falls. But that’s a different story.
I used to say, “Wish I had a million dollars. Hot dog!” whenever I hit that weird fire machine on Mr. Gower’s counter—I get the appeal of a good catchphrase. But when I became a man, I put away childish things. The worst part? I never got a million dollars, but Sam did get to become a jackass. Oh, and he got a million dollars. I reckon I had it coming by stealing his girlfriend, Mary Hatch, now my lovely wife. I didn’t even have the decency to hang up the phone, so he had to listen to our angry canoodling, all while paying 1940’s long-distance rates. And, of course, my drunk driving. But I’ve repaid my debt in hee-haws, as has everyone else in this town. It has to stop.
Look, I’m a decent man, I don’t have any enemies… except maybe Mr. Potter. And the schoolteacher’s husband. And Alfalfa, who tried to drown me in the surprisingly high-tech high school pool. But I have my limits. I’ve hired Nick, the bartender from Martini’s, to rough Sam up a little, tell him to lay off the hee-haws, maybe slip him a right for a convincer. Nick may seem like a sweetheart, but he’s got a dark side, trust me.
As long as we’re clearing the air, I should have married Violet. She’s sexy, she’s fun, she was great as Ado Annie in Oklahoma!, even if she can’t sing a lick. Oh, what am I saying? That’s just the double bourbons talking. I love Mary. Please don’t mention this to her… though the way I see it, she owes me big time. If I hadn’t come along, she’d be—I shudder to say it—a librarian. Or worse… married to Sam Wainwright! Hee-haw!