Original subtitles

[? guitar strumming]

[beer hisses]

[? theme song playing]

?

[? theme concludes]

- [alarm beeping] - [light clicks]

[yawns] Hank, you are retired.

Honey, you do not need to get up

at the crack of dawn every morning.

Peggy, I didn't retire to sleep my life away

like some nepo baby.

[fluorescent light buzzing]

[birds chirping outside]

Hm...

[? dramatic telenovela music plays on TV]

- [glass shattering] - [shouting in Spanish]

Vaya con Dios.

[gunshots, screaming on TV]

Oh! Are they showing reruns of Monsignor Martinez?

No, it's a reboot.

Apparently, Monsignor Martinez had a son,

and now, he's seeking revenge to avenge his father's murder.

[young priest] [on TV] Feliz Navidad, Papa Noel

y los tristes hu�rfanitos.

Hank, what he just said is

next time, he is going to kill their whole family.

Uh, Peggy, it's subtitled.

He's wishing those orphans Merry Christmas.

Well, that is embarrassing.

They got the subtitles so wrong!

[sighs]

The thing they don't tell you about retirement

is there's so much time to fill.

A job was great for that,

and I took it for granted.

Well, you can fill in some more time

by picking up a few things for me at the Mega Lo Mart.

I would go, Hank, but I have to teach my Pi-lah-tays teacher

how to run a class. Arrivederci!

[? upbeat country music plays]

Uh, excuse me.

Where are the bath mats?

Do we have bath mats?

[sighs] It's Mega Lo Mart. You have everything.

Hey, do we have bath mats?

I'll check the website.

Yeah, it looks like we only have "bathroom" mats.

I hate this place.

- Hm... - Those aren't bath mats, sir.

Home brewing is a whole thing.

You gotta hook up a propane heater for the mash.

There's, like, five steps.

I mean, I-I don't know the steps.

You have to read instructions. Uh, you should just forget it.

- Bathroom mat is easier. - Huh.

And what they don't tell you is the propane's not included.

[chuckles] Oh, that won't be a problem for me.

[? telenovela music playing]

Mm-mm! [smacks lips] Do not trust that nun!

She is going to strangle you with her rosary!

Peggy, the will of God has told me

what my new hobby should be.

It was so obvious. You see, sometimes-

Hank, please just tell me.

[Hank Hill] Home beer brewing.

It puts together my two loves,

beer and propane.

Well, that's after your first love, me.

Uh-huh.

[? gentle guitar music playing]

[sniffing]

Joseph, can you roll down a window, man?

Your laundry stinks.

That's not laundry.

My road crew is digging near Dealey Plaza,

and my dad wants some dirt to sift through.

He's looking for Oliver Stone's DNA.

Huh.

Did I tell you how I ran into Connie?

Many times.

Wasn't many.

[instructor] [on laptop] Now, don't forget to breathe.

Hi, Mom. I brought home some laundry.

- [thud] - Oh, okay.

Is your washing machine still broken?

What? Oh. Yeah.

What are you makin' for dinner?

One of your favorites. Kay-sa-dillas.

- Hoyeah! - Oh, hello, Bobby.

[Bobby Hill] Hey, Dad. What is that?

A bottling wand!

Now, your father has been trying a new hobby, beer brewing.

[chuckling] But, he cannot figure it out.

Hey. Why don't you get Bobby to help you make the beer?

Then, you can both name it after me!

"Peggy Ale." "Margaret's Malt."

[gasps] How about "Substitute Teacher of the Beer"?

Actually, I'm pretty sure this bottling wand

will solve my beer problem.

It was too bubbly.

You know, many things make a great beer, Dad.

Proper carbonation is just one.

I serve 12 different beers at my restaurant,

which I had to narrow down from 20

by considering the nodes, texture,

umami content,

which is 5.7, by the way, oxidation-

My beer has hops.

[giggles] Yep. It sure does, Dad.

All beer has hops.

And bread has wheat, and candy has sugar.

It's the type of hops, how you use them, and when.

Come on, Hank, let him help you.

It will be funsy!

Uh, alright.

This is so exciting!

My two favorite men in the whole world brewing beer together!

Generations of Hill men,

learning, sharing, and drinking. Oh. [sniffles]

And then naming it after their favorite woman in the world,

Peggy Hill.

[Bobby] Mm-hmm.

[Hank] Mm. Mm-hmm.

[? gentle guitar music plays]

Okay, what type of beer are we makin'?

Come on, Dad! Pale Ale? Stout? Pilsner?

The answer to that question is no.

I've already made a true blue American beer.

Kinda tastes like Alamo.

Oh, you mean boring?

- Boring? - [sipping]

If this beer was a car, this would be a blue car.

It's the accountant of beers.

Ugh. We could make a better beer than this.

Nowadays, Dad, they're fruitier, bolder, more assertive.

I've been drinking beer for 40 years,

and I never wished once that it tasted more like fruit.

World has changed, Dad. World has changed.

Well, why don't we take it to some experts

and let them decide if it's boring or not.

- [bottles pop open] - [caps clinking]

Free beer?! Wingo!

[all drinking]

- Very nice! - Great.

This is great.

[Boomhauer] Man, dang ol' great beer, man.

Dare I say it, Hank? I think your beer may even be better than Alamo!

That's some high praise indeed, Bill.

Hey. There's a home brewing contest in Dallas a few weeks from now.

You and Bobby would win it for sure.

I went to one of those beer contests once!

I thought it was a contest for how much you could drink.

I drank 47 beers before I got kicked out. I woulda won.

You guys really think it's better than Alamo?

- Definite yeah. - Yup.

- Yep. - Mm-hmm.

Possum urine tastes better than Alamo.

Trust me, possum urine tastes far worse.

?

[Peggy Hill] How did the taste testing go in the alley?

The guys loved my beer.

And we've decided to enter it into the Dallas Home Brewing Competition.

I didn't wanna say anything in front of the guys,

but your beer, at best,

is maybe a good alley beer.

Alley beer?!

Yeah, Dad. In Dallas, you'll be up against experienced brewers

that make unique, nuanced beers that tell stories.

Bobby, beers don't need to tell stories.

They just need a fridge to keep 'em cold.

Nobody likes a warm beer. The end.

That is true, Bobby.

Look, I'd like to enter with you, Dad.

It's just that in Dallas, with my restaurant,

I can't have my name associated with a beer like this.

I'm trying to build a reputation here.

Well, I'm entering my beer in the contest.

That's my story.

Let's hope the judges in Dallas are like Dale

and have zero taste buds.

If you think you can do better, why don't you enter your own beer?

Let your beer do the talking,

seeing as how it likes to tell stories.

That's a great idea, Dad! I will!

And may the best beer win.

?

The odds of a Peggy Ale winning just doubled.

Hoyeah.

[? upbeat country music playing]

[sipping]

So, Bobby's entering a beer in the contest, too.

- Your beer's gonna win, Hank. - Or Bobby's.

- Boo. - I say boo.

Yeah, man, dang ol' boo.

There's no need to boo Peggy.

It's just a friendly competition between father and son,

where the father will kick his son's ass.

Yeah, the perfect chance for the old guns

to show these spoiled youngins how to make a proper beer.

Don't make us look like fools, Hank!

I think that ship has sailed.

Hank, what's Peggy doing in the alley?

Well, normally I would be teaching,

but now that I am retired, I have got nowhere to be.

And retired Peggy is doing anything she damn well pleases.

I kinda like it.

No, you're neutral with no opinion on it at all.

Man, all these dang ol' ladies and kids in the alley, man.

That Luke Junior been askin' me about wantin' to drink beer,

and I told him my old man let me drink my first beer

when I was 7, man. I took my bike,

and I slammed it right into a dang ol' parked car.

Yeah, I remember when Cotton let me taste my first beer.

He snuck our beers onto the roller coaster.

He was too short to ride on the Tilt-A-Whirl.

Hey! What are you hillbillies talking about?

Drinking beer?

Yeah.

- Uh-huh. - Mm-hmm.

I was joking.

- I don't get it. - Boomhauer,

maybe it'd be okay with Luke's mom and still be a rite of passage

if Luke Junior drank non-alcoholic beer.

Technically, that is okay, but it still feels wrong.

Let's put it to a vote.

Who says Peggy should stay inside with the shades drawn?

Shut up, Dale!

- [door opens] - [Chane Wassanasong] Hey, Bobby!

- [Bobby] Hey, Chane. - I talked to my dad about you

- entering a beer into that Dallas contest. - Oh, yeah?

And I told him I thought it was a really dumb idea.

Oh.

But, my Dad thought it'd be good promotion

for the restaurant if you won.

Oh?! Wait. So, what's happening?

He said we could then market and sell the beer.

So, we decided we're gonna put some money into it to make sure you win.

Really? [laughs] Wow! That is great!

That'd be awesome to sell a beer I created out of the restaurant.

Whatever. Let me know when you make your first batch

so I can bring over my buddies to taste it.

- Give you some feedback. - Oh. Sure,

I guess some feedback wouldn't hurt.

Yeah, my buddy Tyler, he knows a lot about beer.

He drank 16 beers one night,

and then ran down a hill without falling or throwing up.

- So, he's an expert. - Oh, yeah.

And I think a good name for the beer would be

"Wassanasong Ale."

- Well, I haven't named it yet. - [Chane] Yeah.

Well, we can ask my Dad.

Ted Wassanasong?

Yes, I know.

[can pops, hisses]

Is this beer?

Uh, it's Near Beer. No alcohol,

according to the ATF, if you trust them.

Probably has napalm in it like Doritos.

Oh.

[sips] Mm! [giggles] It's good!

I can't tell the difference.

- Oh, that's yummy. - [crunches, clatters]

[gluttonous gulping, gasping]

Man, that's- dang ol'- that's for the kid, man!

With ol- them- dang ol' Near Beer run now, man.

- [can hissing] - Oh, man!

- [laughter] - Dang ol' each one teach one, man.

Like that got-dang ol' Darwin Award.

?

I know you do not want to hear this, Hank,

but I think Bobby is right.

I mean, look at this judge's score sheet.

Ugh! They really do want you to tell a story!

I'm not applying to be on Love Connection with Chuck Woolery.

I do not think that is still on the TV, Hank.

Well, good.

You need to do more research. You do not want your story to be

"Hank Hill embarrassed himself and his wife, Peggy Hill,

in Dallas, Texas."

Oh! Would you look how cute?

- The chairs are kegs! - [? '80s music playing]

I cannot get over how creative this is.

Would you like to sample a flight of beers?

- Yes! - No.

Is Cursed Hobbit Stout supposed to taste like medicine?

[sips, sighs]

Is this one even beer?

I'm chewin' it!

This one tastes like...

[belches, smacks lips]

A burn pile?

Excuse me?

Do you have any beer that tastes like beer

and isn't trying hard to taste like something else?

No.

?

[all] Yep.

Oh, how cute.

[tires screech]

[quietly] Boomhauer, I saw Luke in the alley,

drinking non-alcoholic beer with some other kids.

No, it's just dang ol' phase, man.

Like, you know, dang dinosaurs, then Lego, you know?

Then, you got ol' video games. I-It's just cute, man.

- Do-Don't worry about it. - Well, yes, it's probably just a phase,

and not a non-alcoholic drinking problem.

?

Wow. I-It's nice, Bobby! It's, uh, i-it's kinda-

What's the term I'm looking for? Uh...

Complexual. Is that a word?

No, but it does perfectly describe

your relationship with women.

[slurping]

Did you change something?

No, I haven't changed anything.

Tastes fine.

"Fine"? Fine's the best you can do, huh?

I guess "fine" wins contests in Dallas nowadays.

I'm gonna put that on your tombstone, Hank.

"Here lies Fine."

Just so long as we beat your dad and my dad.

And my dad wins.

Beat all dads! Their generation messed up the climate

and took all the houses.

And both my dads are always disappointed in me. [slurps]

What do you think, Ty?

I can't see myself drinking more than

four or five of these in one night.

You want a beer that you can drink a lot of, bro.

That's the business model you want.

I'm not tasting anything past the 10th one anyway.

Exactly! Yes! Good point.

But, you want a beer you can feel in your nut sack, you know?

This is gold, Bobby! Write it down!

Nut... sack.

What's gotten into you two? You all loved it before.

Joseph was just bragging

Bobby got a bunch of fancy brewing equipment

from his frat boy partner.

Remember, Hank, your beer is our generation's

last line of defense against these young punks.

We're the dinosaurs,

and they're the virus the dinosaur government created

that made them go extinct.

Yeah. It needs a bit more of that "old gun" flavor.

What's "old gun" flavor?

Ask Bill. He's the only one

who's ever put a gun in his mouth.

It tasted like I thought it would.

When do you think we can taste a new version?

I got your back, Bobby. You work on the beer,

- I'll take care of the rest. - What?

[? "Runnin' Down a Dream" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers playing]

?

? Yeah, runnin' down a dream ?

? That never would come to me ?

? Workin' on a mystery ?

[? song continues]

? Woo-hoo ?

? Woo-hoo ?

? Woo-hoo ?

[? song fades out]

[guzzling]

- Yep. - Yep.

- Fine. - Dammit!

We need a little insurance, Hank.

Maybe an accident could happen

that'd eliminate a certain competitor from the beer contest.

Are you suggesting killing Bobby?

No! I was suggesting

something could happen to his brewing equip-

Oh wait, do you want me to kill Bobby?

No! Leave Bobby alone!

Don't go anywhere near Bobby or his beer.

Okay, but the judges aren't off-limits, right?

Dale, stay out of it.

Right...

- [? suspenseful music playing] - [binoculars whirring]

Gih!

?

[both exhale]

Look, let's just cut to the chase.

We both know Will Lipner, AKA "the king maker"

and the head beer judge lives here.

Dude! Does he?

Did you already look through his garbage for kompromat?

[exhales]

That's why I couldn't find any kompromat.

I taught you well, son.

But, the teacher will soon outfox the,

uh, student.

May the best man win.

Psych! Rookie mistake.

Joseph, never shake hands with a foe.

- Could be your last handshake. - [door opens]

[dogs barking]

- [? dramatic music playing] - [Dale and Joseph gasping, panicking]

- Dammit! - [gasps, thuds]

[tires screech]

They'll never know it was me!

[Peggy panting]

Takin' out the garbage?

- [toilet flushes] - Nope. Bobby is here,

and he- he brought more laundry.

Yes. Sorry. I didn't have time to do laundry.

You see, I have a full-time job.

I'm not retired, like some people.

You jealous?

Are you talking about yourself?

I do kinda miss havin' a job.

You nervous about the competition tomorrow?

Why? No... You?

No. Not. At. All.

I have never been to a brewing contest before! [laughs]

- None of us have, Peggy. - None of us have, Mom.

Right. Just sayin', you know, that we all have that in common.

I am just excited as to which Peggy Ale is gonna win.

Uh, well, actually I named my beer

"Alley Guys Beer."

Bobby, is yours called "Peggy Ale"?

- I... gotta go to the bathroom. - Again?

Yes. Why? What are you insinuating?

Nothing. But, you'll find

that the garage door is locked, Bobby.

[laughs] Unbelievable!

Are you worried I'm gonna taste your beer,

or that I might pee in the garage by mistake

and we won't be able to tell the difference?

- Bobby! - Well, I'm off to get a good night's sleep

because I have the feeling I'll be up late tomorrow

celebrating when my beer wins.

Probably by drinking my beer.

Shall we toast to the winner?

Good idea.

May the best man win.

May true taste be the victor.

[Peggy] To the winner, Mr. Hill!

- [? dramatic music playing] - [Bobby and Hank growl]

Because it doesn't matter who wins.

We all love each other so much.

- [plastic snaps] - [juice dripping]

- Don't worry, we'll clean it up. - My bad, Mom.

- [? cheerful country music playing] - [crowd chattering]

Oh! Beer fans like me!

- Taste this- - Hey, what's up?

?

Hey, man, th-that dang ol' cycle gonna stop right now, man.

I'm gonna ol' cut you off.

No idea what you said,

but I just wanted to be cool like you, Boomhauer.

[? dramatic percussion music playing]

Son...

Dad...

Dad.

Son.

[? upbeat country music playing]

[sniffing]

[beer sloshing]

[quiet chatter]

Bobby's beer is all flash.

[knife scrapes]

I knew you since you were in diapers!

And you was always a total loser!

Clumsy fat loser!

Hey!

You heard me, little diaper boy!

Your old man's beer looks like weak sauce, bruh.

You all got one foot in the grave, you lame-ass truckers!

- You wish you owned a truck. - I do not!

I'm not gonna accept the results no matter what.

- I'm gonna riot! - That's not necessary, Bill.

No need to worry, Hank. You got this in the bag,

if you know what I mean.

No, I don't know what you mean, Dale.

Let's just say in the judge's eyes,

you're a hero for returning his "lost" dog.

[quietly] You kidnapped the judge's dog?

Let's just say I kept the lost pooch in my truck,

occupied eating boiled chicken livers,

before you found him!

But I didn't find him, Dale.

[Dale Gribble] Let's just say the judge thinks you did.

[whispers] Thank you.

[sighs]

[quietly] Don't worry, Bobby. It's a lock.

You're going home a brewmaster.

[quietly] How can you be so sure?

Let's just say I did a little digging, and a certain married judge

is having an affair with another married judge.

Yeah. I was shocked, too.

You'd be surprised how sloppy some people are in hiding their affairs.

Oh, John Redcorn made it!

- Hey, John Redcorn! - Young Gribble.

[kisses] We worked late,

and my hair got mussed by a branch of a tree. [chuckles]

What did I miss, Sug?

Fathers are going to destroy their sons.

- Gonna be epic! - [walkie-talkie beeps]

- ...over there. - [? tense music playing]

Hank, you're on your own. Good luck.

- Dad, they're coming for us! - Run!

S'go, s'go, s'go, son!

- Good, how's it goin'- - [Dale] Ah!

[Dale and Joseph panting, yelling]

- Hey, boys. - Oh, hey Jim.

Okay, tell us the story of...

"Alley Guys Beer"?

Uh, oh, uh,

I thought the beer had to tell a story.

Beer can't talk.

- What an idiot! - [snickering]

No, I mean, you know, with its flavors and whatnot.

Mm, it's okay if you don't tell a story.

Just letting you know

it'll be a huge point deduction.

Uh, okay.

Well, uh- [clears throat]

- Uh, tradition, freshly cut lawns... - [? gentle, inspiring music playing]

...respect for your elders,

the roar of a crowd after a touchdown.

These are the stories of Texas.

[? music stops]

- [elderly voice] I'm an old man. - [giggling]

Uh, you're not buying that?

Nope.

- Freshly cut lawn. - [giggling]

Blah, blah, blah.

You're not moved, huh?

Should've called it "Peggy Ale."

Uh, look, actually, the real story of this beer

is that it just started out as a hobby to fill time

and to marry my two loves,

propane and beer.

[? gentle music playing]

But, the sad part is it could've been time spent

doin' something fun with my son.

And I didn't give it a chance.

See, he knows more about certain things than I give him credit for,

but I was too proud to listen.

That's this beer's story.

And it ends with me pulling it out of the contest.

Well, that makes my job easier.

- Okay... - [foam hissing]

Tell me the story of...

"Wassanasong Ale."

Are you [bleep] kidding me?!

- [? gentle music playing] - Well, the story of my beer is...

is...

- the same as his beer. - [? music stops]

You can't have the same story.

You have a different beer.

Different beer, but the hops fell out of the same tree.

- [Tyler] He's an idiot, too! - And guess what?

My story has the same ending.

I'm pullin' my beer out of the competition, too.

I could not have written that better myself, honey.

I mean, I could have, but I do not have the time.

[? gentle, inspiring music playing]

Here's a little trick I learned from Chef Hsu.

Chill your glasses to serve your beer in.

This is the beer I wanted to enter

before Chane and his idiot friends gave me notes.

And this is the beer I wanted to enter

before my idiot friends convinced me to change it.

[both sip]

Still boring.

Too fruity.

[slurring] I love these beers. If I was the judge,

all three of us would have been...

been... the winners.

My own creation,

and I am calling it... "Peggy's Ale"!

- [Bobby] Mm-hmm. - [Hank] Mm, mm-hmm.

[? gentle music playing]

[? "Yahoos and Triangles" by The Refreshments playing]

- ? Yee-haw! ? - ? Wa-hoo! ?

[? song ends]

[birds chirping]

- [golf club thumps] - [crowd cheering]

?

[Dale] You heard me, little diaper boy!

[? fanfare playing]

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