Original subtitles

ANNOUNCER: The Assassination of Gianni Versace.

Premieres Wednesday, January 17 on FX.

FXX presents You're the Worst.

*

Jimmy?

Jimmy?

(sobbing)

*

Hello, you.

Where are you going?

I thought you were gone.

-I was. -I thought you left.

I did. To get us...

Oh.

No, no, no, no, no. I just...

I just went to get provisions.

But I could see how you'd think, you know,

given history...

But no, silly, I'm here.

So, I was thinking maybe later

we could go for a ride

and revisit some of our favorite activities.

Get Chinese food, hit the movies.

Secret pinball arcade.

Maybe some micheladas

and "you dropped something" in the park.

Were you crying?

-I want to go. -Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

What? I-I didn't leave this time.

Gretchen, I didn't leave.

Just got pain au chocolat.

Exactly. You can't even get breakfast

without me thinking that you've bailed again.

I have spent my entire life

pretending that all this is a force field

that stops things from penetrating.

But no one chooses me, Jimmy!

Not in the end.

In the end, no one ever fights for me.

So, because I went to get croissants

filled with goddamn chocolate for you

and was gonna lay in bed with you,

eating chocolate for breakfast

because I wanted you to wake up

to something special and delicious,

and still you lay this shit at my feet?

Make sure you want to go here.

I have apologized!

I've waited.

I've sat idly by while you did whatever

because you were wronged by me. True.

But this goddamn vacillation, Gretchen.

Enough is enough.

I didn't do anything this time.

Yep. You're right.

You win.

See, Jimmy? You don't really need me.

Why don't you go do all that fun stuff without me.

Deep down, I think you like being alone more, anyway.

Yep, you're right. Maybe I do.

* I'm gonna leave you anyway

* I'm gonna leave you anyway *

* Gonna leave you anyway.

-DUTCH: Oh, yeah, yeah. -MAX: Oh, I get it.

-Really? -I mean, if those speakers cost 20 Gs,

they better look so hot, I want to stick my dick in 'em.

-Yeah. -(chuckles)

But, like, respectfully.

So, you can put your dick in them.

See, I knew those guys at Guitar Center

had no right to kick me out.

-Maximus. -E-dawg.

We're doing nicknames now?

If so, I call Dutch Oven.

Wait. No. Can I change mine?

Sorry I missed your calls last night.

Got stuck on Skype

with a buddy who's going through a thing.

Was it Brent? (gasps)

Did something happen with Snoober?

Did they run out of snow?

Nah, it's... Different guy.

Um...

did you talk to Doug?

Yeah, such a bummer that he split us up.

Bosses, right?

This is just like that movie Horrible Bosses:

very disappointing.

(laughs) Hey, so, tonight, you want to check out

Pharrell's sneaker pop-up?

It's in this Mexican church that used to be a crepe restaurant.

Doug has me on a crazy deadline. I'm probs here all night.

-(sighs) -All right, Edgar.

Cool beans. Stay frosty.

-Yeah. -Look at this one.

-Let's do it. -20 thou?

Click your dick in it.

LINDSAY: Oh, no.

You have dead face.

Ooh, do not sit on this couch!

Or you'll never get up.

Baby booze.

You bone a pilot again?

I slept with Jimmy last night.

What?! So, what does this mean?

Are you with Boone, or are you with Jimmy?

Gretchen, you have to stop this.

Sleeping with more than one person is wrong.

(both laugh)

Oh, so, what are you gonna do?

Oh, who knows what's gonna happen?

We'll just have to see what the universe sends my way.

"The universe"? Who are you, Stephen Hawking?

(claps)

Anyway, you can't just let things happen to you.

(phone buzzes and chimes)

Ha! Olivia just texted me

it's taco night.

I guess the universe just brought me tacos.

Boone's daughter texts you?

Yeah, all the time.

Look, she dressed her Bitmoji up

to look like me. Little dummy.

This is why

you actually need to make up your mind.

Don't you see? You're her La Bamba.

That hunky dillhole

broke my dumb little heart making me think

he was gonna be my forever papa.

He promised to teach me how to swim and then, boom.

He just disappeared,

and I had to learn by watching the dog.

Is that why you shake every time you get out of the pool?

Gretchen, you have to break up with Boone

before you mess up Olivia.

This is not like all the other guys you've boned.

We're talking about a little girl's life here.

Stop worrying about a kid you met for 30 seconds

and think about me, your best friend,

and how maybe I deserve this

after a lifetime of being everyone's "hit it and quit it."

I don't know what's gonna happen with Boone

or his daughter or his cat

or his goddamn goldfish,

but, for once, Gretchen is putting herself first.

So, I'm telling you, back the hell off.

"For once"?

Oh, excuse me.

You dropped something.

(chuckles)

Oh, you dropped something.

-(panting): I did? -Yeah.

It's, uh... it's, uh, it's right back there.

-(laughs) -What was it?

-What? -What did I drop? What did it look like?

It was... bluish.

-Did I actually drop something? -Yes.

No. It's just a funny joke that...

It's funny to stop people

who are actually exercising,

trying to elongate their lives

so they can stick around for their families

and the people who need them?

And you sit here drinking in the middle of the day

and you lie to them!

That's funny to you?!

Yes.

You dropped something.

-Oh. Okay. -(chuckles) Pick it up.

But I don't want it anymore.

Pick it up!

-Now run. -Huh? What?

(Jimmy whimpers)

Okay, so, "pedo" means "fart."

And "pedo mojad means "fart with sauce."

Now, "Tu madre es una puta"

means, uh...

Well, it means that your mother works at night.

¿Tu madre es una puta?

You got it.

(knocking on door)

LINDSAY: Hello?

Hello. It's me, Lindsay.

(laughing): Taco night!

I'm so excited. I brought "Patron"

and some limes for margaritas.

-Lindsay, I didn't know you were coming. -LINDSAY: What?

I'm morgue-ified. Gretchen, you forgot you invited me, you spaz.

No sweat. I'll just set another plate.

(whispering): What the hell are you doing?

Making sure you don't ruin this kid.

It's bad enough she's so not cute.

She doesn't need some selfish adult

giving her abandonment issues on top of everything else.

I'm gonna set you on fire.

Try it, short-round.

Want Auntie Lindsay to show you how to do your hair

to minimize...

-help your face? -Okay.

Tacos are ready. Let's chow.

Shit, yeah! Hard shells.

-WOMAN: Bye, Max. -See ya. -Later.

Mmm.

-* Ladies and gentlemen * -* Yeah

* One thousand

* Biz busy on the boards

* Mm-hmm

* Nah, they tired of waitin,' they say *

* Crae, you sold your soul, man, your soul, man *

* For real? Who bought it?

* Let the Spirit take control, man *

* Control, man, control, man

* I don't go nowhere without Him *

* They scared that I'm-a cause these babies to stumble *

* They scared that my integrity is gon' crumble *

* Appreciate the prayers, but all that pressure *

* Either gon' make you humble

* Or make you hang out on the sidelines *

* And fear you gon' fumble, put me in, coach *

* Ain't out here flexin' for nobody, I was born to do it *

* God don't make mistakes and say I'm sorry *

* He ain't never dropped the ball *

* I don't never plan to fumble

* Catch me runnin' with them lions *

* Reggie Bushin' in the jungle... *

(indistinct chatter and laughing)

*

DUTCH: Mmm.

Mmm. Mm-hmm.

Bro.

-What are you doing here? -Don't "bro" me.

Why are you feeding ravioli to Dutch?

Oh, actually, just one is a raviolo.

I know that! Why would you think I don't know that?

I thought you were working all night.

I am. Dutch and I are researching

a cooking class sketch for Doug.

Nothing funny has happened yet,

but that couple over there is clearly here

as a Hail Mary before their divorce.

Look, Doug wanted me to keep this on the DL,

but he asked me to mentor Dutch.

He's a terrible receptionist,

but Doug's too nice to fire anyone,

so he wants to transition him into being a writer.

So...

you and Dutch aren't just hanging out for fun?

Come on, like I'd hang out with this doof?

Ha. Yeah.

Wait, what?

Okay, well, um... Hey, you want to kick it tomorrow?

Bringing Dutch up to speed is gonna be an all-consuming task.

I won't be able to hang for a while.

But I know Doug.

Pretty soon he'll get distracted.

He'll start his training for the U.S. Archery Team

or writing his column for Mother Jones,

and we'll be back together.

Okay, yeah.

-Sorry for being weird. -It's okay.

DUTCH: Okay, new theory:

That's actually his mistress.

See how he's got a ring on but she doesn't?

Oh, shit.

Little Dutch Boy strikes again.

Yes. Great nickname.

Yeah.

-(indistinct shouting in movie) -Ah. Come on.

That is ridiculous.

Why would the robot play football?

Tackling a human would violate the first law of robotics.

-Shh. -Oh, d...

-J... -(woman sighs)

Sorry.

(shouting in movie)

So, when I first moved to L.A.,

this dude told me that the Griffith Observatory

was Alex Trebek's house.

-Mm. -I believed him for years.

I can't tell you how many people I told,

-"That's Alex Trebek's house." -GRETCHEN: Trebek sucks.

Pat and Vanna forever.

You love Wheel, don't you, Liv?

Always select the "T" first.

The most commonly used letters spell out "eat irons."

Solve the puzzle as soon as you know it,

and spinning for extra thousands isn't worth the risk.

-Good girl. -All right, girlie.

Bedtime for Bonzo.

Ten more minutes.

Fine.

All right, I have to oversee this bedtime situation,

or she'll sit on the toilet and read till her butt falls off.

-(whispering): Nerd. -Lindsay, I'm so glad you came over.

-You can really house some tacos. -Thanks.

I taught myself how to breathe through my nose

-so I could chew longer. -(Lindsay and Boone laugh)

Good night, Gretchen.

BOONE: All right, come on.

See?

Everything's fine. Everyone's healthy.

We're just hanging out (whispering): like people.

You were right. I'm sorry.

It's just, you're here so often, I got jealous.

But, honestly, seeing the two of you together...

is really cute.

Well, I'm out. Priscilla's really laying on

the night work lately.

Hey... I love you.

I love you, too.

Thank you for trusting me.

(sighs)

BOY: Hey, Jimmy.

And my hallucinations are Irish. Perfect.

No, Spirit.

I'm not the racist Shive-Overly you're after.

You'll find old Ronnie's ashes

spread over Tony Shalhoub's succulents.

Neighbor boy.

We all figured you for dead.

Turns out my missing dad's been here

at O'Callaghan's this whole time.

So now I'm working nights to pay off his bar tab.

Life's tough, but it'll be over eventually.

How've you been, Jimmy?

Life is a festering wound, my boy.

You enjoy your youth.

It's all downhill from here.

Oh, no. It gets worse?

Thanks, Jimmy.

I got my car booze.

You're lucky I keep it handy now.

I came back to town to face the music.

But it didn't want to face me.

Let's go play pinball.

Bah.

Hello, Edgar.

Not today, Satan.

*

-What?! -Shh...!

I'm a grouch.

Why are you in my trash?

I have to tell you something.

You have to break up with Gretchen.

-What? Why? -For Olivia.

I saw how she was looking at Gretchen tonight. She loves her.

And Gretchen is such a toxic need-ball.

She's just gonna keep getting closer and closer,

and one day she's gonna realize

you're actually kind of basic,

and she'll disappear, and you'll start dating John Stamos...

-John Stamos? -And it's going

to break Olivia's little fool heart.

Her heart is going to break.

I'm sorry, but your girlfriend's not a solid person.

I know that.

She barely showers.

And she steals Olivia's desserts from her lunch box.

But I like her.

And she likes me. And I know

what I'm getting into, because I'm an adult.

And you're a girl in a trash can.

And you don't know anything about our relationship.

Well, there's one thing you don know:

Gretchen's not over Jimmy.

He could pick up the phone,

and she'd be at his house in two seconds.

Get out of my trash and go home.

*

-Do you have taco meat in your mouth? -No.

Move in with me.

(swallows)

(trembling): Um... okay.

(Gretchen gasps)

(both laugh softly)

*

JIMMY: Los Angeles is dead.

It's a quartz mausoleum of vape shops,

YouTube Red billboards

and poke restaurants.

And, as I discovered so viscerally today,

everything that used to be fun is no longer so.

You think maybe it's Gretchen? Like...

after her, you now can't enjoy it without her?

They're offering me a multi-book deal,

writing the Peach Quadrilogy.

Luckily, I can write anywhere.

I told you, Edgar, the city is ruined for me.

It's time to go.

Whoa.

Are you gonna tell Gretchen?

Nope. She's done with me,

and she doesn't care anymore.

I don't want you to go, but I won't try to stop you.

Thank you.

In the Paktika Province, I was supposed to go AWOL

with my battle buddy Bowe, but...

he ditched me while I was in the crapper.

Everyone goes away eventually.

And now I'm losing Max.

That dainty little worm-boy with the tiny mustache?

Doug split us up.

I should just find a new partner.

Unless you think I should talk to Doug about it.

Listen, Edgar,

the only person you can truly rely on is yourself.

My best advice would be

to accept your new reality and... move on.

Also, my thanking you for not trying to stop me

is in no way an admission that you could stop me,

as you have no influence over my actions whatsoever.

Obviously.

Bro, I think you left the pizza in your car.

No, I'm-I'm not the pizza guy.

Doug, it's me, Edgar.

I work for you.

Marketing?

Nano Communications?

(whispers): Black Ops?

Oh, right, the show.

-Guido Baby guy. -Listen, I came to,

uh, tell you that...

(exhales) you're ruining my life.

-Oh, no. -I've never had a friend like Max.

He's the only person who's ever treated me like an equal.

He sees something in me I didn't know was there.

And just when we were really getting

to that next level of intimacy,

you split us up! I mean...

are you really so threatened by our talent?

(trembling exhale)

Edgar...

I am so ashamed.

You get to a certain point in your career

where you think you're safe,

and then one day, inevitably,

you look up and see Mozart in the rearview mirror...

and you realize:

Holy shit, I'm Salieri!

Your scary talent has me so spooked

that I've been punishing you when I should be elevating you.

Well, I-I didn't mean it like that.

Not another word.

I'm giving you a promotion.

Now, I don't want you to freak out,

but hell, kid, you deserve it.

Edgar...

you're the on-set writer now.

What?! Oh, my G...

Wow. Thank you.

Uh, but what about Max?

Max isn't ready.

You are.

Great. Okay.

I will not let you down.

When do I start?

Right now. That Inappropriate Gravedigger sketch

you wrote for Paul F. Tompkins?

-Mm-hmm. -I'm shooting it overnight in Downey.

-Mm. -So take the 710 to the 105,

look for the yellow signs.

So brave of you to show up at my house

at 9:00 on a weeknight to yell at me about your job.

You're gonna go far in this town

with that kind of political savvy.

DOUG: Tova! Pizza's here!

(snoring softly)

(snoring continues)

*

*

* In spite of being

* So late

* To the game

* I won't

* Fight fate

* It's now

* Too late

* The binds

* That break and shatter off

* When you fall down

* From the top

* And your heart stops...

* Used to be

* The one

* That knew me

* Saw through me

* Used to be

* The one

* That

* Knew me

* You used...

(dog barks)

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH

(kisses)

(footsteps echoing)

(gate clanking)

(doorbell ringing loudly)

(doorbell ringing continues)

ANNOUNCER: Baskets.

Premieres Tuesday, January 23 on FX.