Original subtitles

Cat Lady loves playing with string.

Meow!

[Shink, scrape]

[Clang]

Yikes! What a mess!

Time to scoop the station's litter box.

[Purrs]

So many toys to play with.

It's like catnip!

Gosh. Am I just--IDK--

laying on the cat stuff too thick?

No, Jenna, no! Stop it. You're the Cat Lady!

It would be weird if you didn't act like a cat,

though giving myself a tongue bath

was maybe a bit much.

Aah!

[Growling]

Gus is a--errrp--dog person.

[Theme song playing]

[Glass breaks]

Martinez: Listen up.

The only thing more embarrassing

than the police station being a crime scene

is how dirty this evidence locker is,

so we ain't leaving until it's clean.

Flute: Well, let's hurry this up.

It's ladies night at Jinko's,

and you know what that means.

Summers, activate free drink robot boobs.

[Air hisses]

Hey! My eyes are up here

but also down here.

My nipples are bodycams.

Can't make it tonight.

I've got a hot date with some socks

that need ironing.

Oh, I'd shine them if that were possible.

Wynona you coming to ladies night?

With the things I've done,

I'm not sure I qualify as a "lady."

[Air escapes]

Robot need love. Come closer.

Summers: Aah! Martinez: We've got to do

something about the fungus monster.

Maybe we should poison it.

Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio!

Is that what I think it is?

Indeed. Also, hi!

Gather round, my impeccably diverse group of friends

as I tell you, a one-act tale of how I helped

Flute discover his crime mind.

Between stints as a middle school teacher

and criminal mastermind, I briefly moonlit

as the headmaster of a training program

for the best of the elite of the crème de la crmiest

of detectives in training.

Welcome to Top Dick!

Which, I cannot stress enough,

is a perfectly acceptable word

for me to use in this context.

The competition is on to see who amongst you

is the best detective here.

-May the best man... -Or only woman.

Pentos: Win.

Good luck, Ice Queen, but I'm winning this.

I come from a long line of men

who have taken Top Dick.

Really, Marverick?

You strike me more as a bottom.

I'd strike your bottom,

but I can't bend down that far.

Hey! That's my partner.

You can't talk to a woman like that.

Actually, I can because it's 2003,

where this kind of sexist banter was allowed

and often high-fived.

Up top!

Pentos: Hmm.

[Gunshots]

Hyah!

Pentos: Ha ha ha!

By the power vested in me by the state

of wherever we are, I will avenge you.

Good night, sweet prince.

Ooh!

[Cadet playing "Taps" on bugle]

Why, Duck, why? I can only assume it was

because you didn't listen to me.

Had you done so, you certainly wouldn't be dead,

so this is all...

your fault!

Mmm.

I bet I know the last thing that this guy...saw.

Singer: ♪ Yeah ♪

Flute: Gah!

This vic is like Nic Cage's IMDb page.

The further up you look,

the messier things get.

Singer: ♪ Yeah ♪

Pentos: Ha ha ha! Hee!

Pentos, voice-over: To have any chance of winning,

Flute and his wingman Goose--I mean, Duck--

needed to ace the sexy volleyball competition,

but fate, like my fellow teachers when I'd suggest

we get fondue, had other plans.

Martinez: Unh!

Hyah!

Duck!

[Gasps]

Talk to me, Duck!

Why didn't you duck when I said, "Duck," Duck?

Is it because you thought I was saying your name

when I was actually using the verb form of the word duck?

Because that would mean this is all...

my fault!

Can I use this one for the dead partner competition?

[Squeak]

You're too late. I quit and turned in my badge.

A good detective never lets his partner die.

Pentos: Perhaps you didn't let him die.

Perhaps he was murdered.

But there was no evidence of murder.

You may very well be top dick,

but how will anyone see it when you hide

behind evidence and rules and freshly ironed trousers?

Allow me inside, and I can help you grow

beyond your wildest dreams

by embracing the chaos that lies

in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind.

You mean the part of my brain where I keep

the memory of my best friend Eli teaching me

how to masturbate on the safety patrol trip to D.C.?

Um, I want to hear about that, I do, I really, really do,

but come with me.

Flute: That's what Eli said.

Pentos: Enough with Eli!

The best detectives are able to access something

I call the subconscious clue detecting neural framework,

or SCDNF!

Too many words for me.

What about crime mind?

Yeah, whatever. Drink this to relax.

Pass. I don't drink alcohol.

Then you'll never be a great detective

or accepted socially.

I guess one drink can't hurt.

Pentos: You must look beyond the clues,

preferably through a pop culture lens.

Volleyball! Deserted beach!

Find the connection, and you will find Duck's killer!

Wilson: Please. You have to help me.

But I need to solve Duck's murder.

Tom Hanks: Ho ho! Wilson!

Wilison: Oh, dear God! It's him.

He wants to put a wig on me

and do unspeakable things!

But he's our generation's finest actor and "SNL" host.

Yes, but when we're alone out here,

he fills me with his poison.

Eww!

Oh. Poison!

Hanks: Wilson!

Wilson: Oh, God. He's coming!

Hanks: Oh! Hey there, friend.

Did you see a little sex ball rolling around here

about ankle-high, straw hair?

Got a butt you could bounce a coconut off of!

National treasure Tom Hanks may have been intimate

with a sports ball?

Hmm. Still makes more sense than "Cloud Atlas."

Pentos: Yes! Connect the dots!

Make sense of the senseless!

Poison.

Duck.

Motive.

Murder.

Whiskey.

Neat. Make it a double.

As the winner, it's an honor to prove

that chicks can also be dicks.

Flute: Not so fast. Martinez: Ohh!

Duck wasn't killed by the impact of the volleyball.

It was the poison your partner put inside it

to prevent me from taking the prize.

I only did it to protect our lead,

but how did you know?

A weird old man in a far-too-small

small, white towel taught me

that things aren't always as they...scream.

Singer: ♪ Yeah ♪

Whoa, oh, oh!

Pentos, voice-over: Now that I had molded Flute

into my perfect nemesis,

our little game of cat and mouse was about to dot dot dot begin,

and I knew the perfect way to celebrate.

Hi. I'm looking for Eli.

Perhaps we shouldn't be using the fungus monster

as a garbage disposal.

He's getting positively Muskian in size.

Elon Musk isn't fat.

He just has a Pixar mom's ass.

Hold on. Now this brings back memories.

Time to tell the tale of why I first left Grimsburg.

Martinez: Another story about you?

Flute: Are there any other kind?

The year was years ago.

I was crushing it as a detective with my crime mind,

but I was about to lose my regular mind.

I had hit the middle-aged trifecta--

got married, got a kid, got divorced.

[Sobbing]

With Harmony and her kid out of the way,

I could finally focus on my one true love,

hiding from my problems in work.

Got them!

That's 50 busts this week.

What do you need me to solve next, Kang?

Well, unless you want to start murdering people

and lying to yourself about it, there are no more cases.

-You solved them all. -What?

There has to be more. Crime never stops

just like sharks and e-mails from Costco.

Maybe try solving what's going on with you, Flute.

Spend time with your son

or sunbathing or bathing.

Anything regarding hygiene really.

Flute, voice-over: I had no problem taking a break

from crime, but I wouldn't let one

pass me by if I saw it.

Hey. We don't take too kindly to drifters in this town.

If I were you, I'd turn around, Tom Petty.

Wait. Tom Petty? I'm a huge fan.

I lost my virginity to your music

and my car keys.

I think you're confused, officer.

Then why did you look up when I said your name?

Because I thought you said Tim Patty,

which is my very real name.

Uh-huh. And what's in your bag, Tim?

This? This is just some guitar-shaped groceries.

Now if you'll excuse me.

Look. I've had a real rough go of it lately,

and your music saved me before.

Maybe you've got a song that could help,

preferably a classic and not a new one

I can't hum along to.

I'm not who you think I am.

Then let's go down to the station and let

your fingerprints prove it.

You do that, and you're drawing first blood.

That's a war you don't want.

Why's that? Because you... won't back down.

No, I won't back down.

So you'll stand your ground?

I won't be turned around.

♪ Yeah, baby ♪

-What? -What?

Unh! Book this man on two counts of telling me

he's not Tom Petty.

-I'm not. -Make it 3 counts.

That's not a punishable offense.

Flute, you can't keep hiding in your work like

a woman in a Hallmark movie.

-It's not him. -How do you know?

Because he passed away two weeks ago.

What?! But that's impossible. He's right...

there.

Kang: You're making a case where there's not one.

Let it go.

When my wife told me it was over, I didn't fight it.

When you told me to take some time off, I did as told,

and when my doctor told me he was actually

my accountant, I accepted it and put my clothes back on,

but I'm done letting things go.

Tom Petty is alive, and I won't stop

until I prove it.

Cue montage!

[Sirens]

[Tires squeal]

[Twang]

Aah! Aah!

[Twang]

Oof!

[Feedback]

Unh!

[Gasps]

[Grunting]

Damn you, Tom Petty!

Damn you and your torpedoes!

Petty may have gone absolutely goblin mode on us,

but he's about to break.

I can feel it.

Pentos: You don't know how it feels.

If that's who you say he is, then you're dealing

with a first ballot Rock and Roll Hall of Famer.

Those words are nothing to a man who spent

half his life on a tour bus.

-You can't save him. -Oh, oh, oh!

I didn't come here to rescue him from you.

I came here to rescue you from Tom Petty.

He's from Florida.

As much as I'd love to see you die,

I don't mess with Florida.

He's coming for revenge.

Try not to bleed out in my office.

[Picking notes]

Before you kill me, can you tell me one thing?

Am I playing this right?

[Playing "Runnin' Down a Dream"]

Ugh! Just give me that. Yer so bad.

Have you ever changed these strings?

-Just admit who you are. -Why do you care?

Because I need to know.

Seems like the guy who wrote the song "I Need to Know"

should know that.

And what if I am who you think I am?

How does that help anything?

Because if you're still alive,

that means anything can come back,

anything.

You're runnin' down a dream,

one that never will come to you.

So you're working on a mystery,

all these mysteries going wherever they lead,

but at the end of the day...

I'm runnin' down a dream.

You're right. I don't know what I'm doing lately.

You got any other songs it might help?

"Time To Move On," "Into the Great Wide Open."

"Learning to Fly" is always an option.

I think I'll just go with "Breakdown."

What are you gonna do now?

While I was blowing everything up,

it seems like this is a pretty nice town.

You should stay here, Tom Pet-- Tim Patty.

You belong among the fireflowers.

And sorry about those, by the way.

Bad batch of fertilizer, I think.

♪ Oh, I belong among the fireflowers ♪

♪ Flute moved on to a motel with no TV ♪

[Man screaming]

Tim: ♪ And I'm sorry about blowing up those officers ♪

♪ But they were trying to kill me ♪

Enjoy your stay...Harmony Flute.

Martinez: I can't believe someone found a way

to murder somebody with an Aerobie.

That's the eighties for you!

Gus: Mmm! Microplastics.

Wait. I found something that reminds me

of a story, too.

Is it a story about me?

It's actually about me.

Then let's keep looking.

Wynona: Oh, I love merry-go-rounds.

Me, too, except for this one time

I basically died on one.

Flashback mode, activate.

It was a beautiful day at the park.

Definitely not the kind of day you'd expect

a massive explosion.

[Dramatic music playing]

[Calliope playing]

[Dramatic music playing]

Agh!

[Grunting]

Unh! Oh, oh, oh, oh!

That was fun, but I've got to split...

you into a bunch of pieces!

Aah!

[Beeping, people screaming]

-Will he make it? -Mmm. Doubtful,

but there is an experimental new procedure

that's astronomically expensive and has almost

zero chance of success.

Do it.

We could only save the top half of his head.

He'll need a digital mouth.

Um, guys. We forgot to put back his penis.

[Heart monitor beeping]

We could just stick it under his armpit.

Do it.

How do you feel, Riddick?

Summers: I feel great!

More roboty than I remember, that's for sure.

Oh, and who's Riddick?

Detective Riddick. That's you,

The most badass man on the force,

that we've rebuilt to be a cyborg super cop.

Summers: Me? But my name's Greg Summers.

I work at the merry-go-round.

[Calliope playing]

Wow! I wish my life was as exciting as his.

Every day, I do the same thing.

It's a little robotic.

Aw, crap.

You saved the wrong half of a head!

What did you do with Riddick's?

I followed protocol and threw it in the half-head disposal.

Summers: So now what? Kang: Ideally, we'd train you

on how to use the hundreds of technologically advanced weapons

you have installed, but we got a tip

on the location of the man responsible for blowing you up,

so we have to move now.

Don't worry. There's a how-to video.

Hi. I'm Mario Lopez.

I say yes to hosting everything

because I literally don't know the word no.

Now then, will learning how to use

your new cyborg body be easy?

Let's get started.

Who wants to learn how to shoot their laser gun?

Ooh! I do.

You know who else wanted to?

Ana de Armas as she prepared for her role

in the sci-fi flick "Laser Academy."

Hot off her rumored on-set romance with...

Kang: Word is their grand plan is even more evil

than we thought.

They want to bring back unassigned seating

in movie theaters, which is why we need you

to capture them alive.

Did you understand everything Mario Lopez told you?

I think so, but he did spend the bulk

of the video dishing celeb hot goss.

-Good enough. -Oof!

I don't want to hurt you guys!

Non-lethal flashbangs, activate.

Sorry!

Soft net launcher, activate!

Sorry!

Man: Aah!

Summers: I got to try something more mundane

that won't hurt anyone.

Espresso machine, activate!

Phew!

Aah!

Sorry, sorry, sorry.

Please surrender peacefully!

I can't see another person's insides.

Ain't you the guy from the merry-go-round?

Huh. I thought I blew you up

just like I plan on blowing up the widespread practice

of picking your own movie theater seats.

Soon I'll be able to get there early,

spread my crap out across 5 different seats,

and say I'm saving them for friends

when, in fact, I just like having empty seats

on either side of me!

Summers: You're a disgrace to moviegoing

like those people who stand up to salute

the Nicole Kidman AMC ad.

Flamethrower, activate!

Oh, thank God. I didn't...

Man: Aah!

Aagh!

Summers: kill you. Aww.

I killed every terrorist.

Either Mario Lopez is terrible at explaining

advanced robotic weaponry,

or maybe I'm just not cut out for this job.

-Ooh! -Ooh!

Oh, hi. My name's Summers.

I'm Wynona. I work at the morgue.

Summers: What a coincidence.

I recently put several people in the morgue.

Vinton: What are you doing?

The half-head disposal is for half-heads only.

You just put a whole head in!

Everybody down! It's gonna blow!

Force field, activate!

[Wynona gasps]

Summers: Ohh!

You saved my life.

How can I ever repay you?

Oh. Heh heh. You don't have to.

OK. Bye.

Kang: Let's go scrap you for parts.

No. This made me realize that I may be built to kill,

but I'm born to protect.

Instead of sitting watching the world go round,

I just did something that felt good

in my heart and my armpit.

Then let's find you a partner,

someone dark enough to keep your brightness

from blinding people.

Kang, you're gonna wanna see this.

Thanks, Sergeant Yorgonawanaseedis.

"Dear detective people"...

Flute: It's been a few years, but I wanted to let you

know I'm doing great.

Please continue not trying to find me since I'm doing great,

as evidenced by the number of times I've told you

I'm doing great in this letter.

Yours greatly, Former Detective Flute.

P.S. Please ignore the tear stains on this letter.

They are tears of manly confidence.

Again, doing great.

Kang: Well, the stationary's from the Putitt Inn.

Summers, I think I just found you

your borderline, suicidal, toxic partner.

You had me at borderline.

Pentos: Wait. So your penis is under your arm?

I think you misunderstood the story.

No. I believe 'tis you who has misunderstood

your own tragic tale.

Yeah, it was a story about meeting me.

Martinez: All right. I'm tired of cleaning.

Let's hit happy hour.

Wynona: But we didn't really clean much up.

Kang: It's just a construct to get us to tell stories.

Maybe we'll do it every season.

Of detective work. Right, Flute?

Flute?

[Flute grunting]

Oh! Ooh! Thanks! You almost got me, Gus.

Gus: Yeah! Ha ha! Me almost eat you.

Flute: Now, that would have been a good story.

[Laughter]

Pentos: Shotgun.

Well, we missed happy hour.

Time for regular old sad hour.

But I got to learn more about you, partner.

Nothing sad about that.

Then you weren't really listening.

We never really discussed the giant fungus.

-What was his story? -Or hers.

[Others groan]

Kang: Not our problem.

I found him a new job,

and I think he's gonna like it.

The end!

Voice: Bento!