All language subtitles for Digman_S02E05

We're on the verge
of a breakthrough!

Once you flip that switch,

we'll take my theory of
transference to its logical end

and transfer my consciousness
into another man's body!

Dr. Freud, please!
This could kill us.

And I want to see
who wins World War II.

Nonsense. Once I've assumed
my new muscle-bound form,

I will get my revenge
on this cruel world.

You're overloading
the power grid!

Stop catastrophizing
and hit the switch.

This is too much!

The castle can't take it.
We're done for!

It's working, Fritz.
It's working!

Really? Wow.
I thought you were mad,

but I'm actually starting
to get on...

No...!

Wow. The four of us have had
the wildest days of our lives.

Rip is gonna flip
when he sees us.

Hey, guys, you won't believe
what just happened to me.

I thought I had lost my phone,

and then I realized
it was in my pocket.

You can't write this stuff!

Although it would
make a good screenplay.

I better get this down
while it's fresh.

Audi five thoudie!
♪ Boopy-doop, ba-doop do-do. ♪

Unbelievable.

We've clearly all had
crazy things happen to us,

and he didn't even ask.

Yup, that's Rip for you.

He mostly just likes
talking about himself.

Well, I'm going
to say something to him.

I don't know if anyone was about

to say something to me,
but there's no time!

We just got hired
for a new job in Austria!

The Couch Museum has hired us
to find Sigmund Freud's couch.

I thought that was already
at the Freud Museum.

No, that's a forgery, created

by the museum
to boost ticket sales.

Now then,
this is Freud's Castle.

Destroyed in 1939,

it was the last known location
of Freud's couch.

And now built atop its ruins
is the Alpine Institute,

a world-renowned
mental health facility,

founded by Dr. Sandra Null.

Wow, she's a legend!

They say that if she had
treated Ozzy Osbourne,

his song "Crazy Train"
would have been called

"Neurotypical Locomotive."

That may be,
but I think we can all agree

that psychiatry is
the industry of death.

Well... -Uh, not quite...

I believe the couch is buried
somewhere beneath the institute.

So we're going undercover
as patients,

thanks to these forged documents
that Agatha whipped up

using her advanced
Photoshop skills.

Wait, there's four of these.
Agatha, you're coming, too?

Yup. You're gonna have
to move that couch,

and Saltine won't be any help
with her broken wrist.

Saltine has a broken wrist?!

Yes, Rip, she fell into a pit.

There's a huge cast on her arm.

- Is there?
- But don't worry.

My injury inspired me to come up
with my latest cool invention:

a watch that beeps
when you're near a hole.

Why is it beeping now?

'Cause it's below my waist.
I'm still working out the kinks.

Hi. We're here to be admitted.

We're out of our gourds.

These documents
are clearly forged.

There's no way
I'm letting you in.

The hell?! These look like shit!

Agatha, you said
you were a Photoshop expert!

I was capping.

Fine. Eff it. How about a bribe?

Wa-wa-woo! All right,
you're admitted, and I quit.

I'm off to travel the world.

I may have over-bribed.

Guys, look.

All of the doctors
and orderlies have key cards.

If we create a distraction,

I can snag one,
and we can explore.

Hello, everyone. I'm Dr. Null.

I see we have some new patients.

We are going to do some
group therapy, so grab a seat.

Look, I've seen
Good Will Hunting.

You're gonna try to win me over
by saying your wife farted.

Well, that ain't
gonna work, Jack!

My goodness. If it isn't
the world-famous Rip Digman.

I didn't realize
you were being admitted,

though I can't say
I'm surprised.

I've followed your neuroses
for years.

You don't know
the first thing about me.

Oh, but I do.
You're a paranoid narcissist

who is haunted by grief
and motivated

by a pathological desire
for others to love you,

despite the fact that you are
incapable of loving yourself.

And you hide
all of your insecurities

behind inscrutable
old-timey language.

What?!
That's Flemington confetti!

No, it's not
Flemington confetti.

Now then, please have a seat.

I will, but only 'cause my legs,
ass and penis are tired.

Not because you asked.

And I'm gonna sit backwards
in this chair.

- Turn your chair around.
- Okay.

So we'll go around
in the circle and check in.

Just a relaxed,
friendly conversation.

The lobotomies happen later.

Very good.

Lobotomy joke absolutely slayed.

You, Saltine,
why don't you go first.

How are you feeling?

You really want to know
how I'm feeling?

Oh, my goggles.

You seem surprised. Why is that?

A second question?

Sorry, I'm not used
to being asked about myself.

Rip hasn't done that in ages.

And how does that make you feel?

Another Q for the Salt Queen?

Ga-ga-ga-goyng, I'm in heaven!

And to answer said question,
it makes me feel

- like Rip doesn't care.
- The heck?

Rip, it seems like asking people

about themselves
might be a hurdle for you.

Uh, no.
I just actively don't care

to know about them
and their lives.

What's the big whoop?

Why don't you try it anyway,

right here
in this safe environment?

I mean, I really don't want to,
so this is under protest,

but fine, I'll give it a shot.

So, Saltine, um, how... are...

I can't do it, Doc!

Goddamn it,
why'd you make me try that?

Now I'm freaking out!

I can fix him.

Oh, Saltine!

Time to find the couch!
I know I should be more quiet,

but I'm just so amped
'cause my plan worked!

By the way, Saltine,
that was a really good

fake story earlier about
how I never ask you questions.

Rip, it wasn't fake.

I wasn't gonna
bring this up during a job,

but you pretty much never
ask us about ourselves.

- It's inconsiderate.
- What? That's flapdoodle!

Right, Agatha and Swooper?

- Um...
- Well...

Wow. So the truth comes out.

Well, guess what, guys.
I'm your boss,

not a Mr. Nice Guy contestant.

Well, if you ever asked us
about ourselves,

you'd know I won the Mr. Nice
Guy contest two days ago!

I didn't know that!
Congratulations! Well-deserved!

Thank you!
I mean it from deep in my heart!

- Stop yelling!
- What? You're yelling, too.

Just 'cause you're whispering
doesn't make it not loud!

I got to agree with Rip here.

What? I can't hear you,
Agatha, you hoarse, old bag!

- Hey! -Not cool!
- Too far, Rip!

Fine, fine.
You guys can keep talking

about what a jerk I am while
Fleety and I do our actual jobs.

Audi five thoudie!

Geez. I've never seen
so much mental hospital rubble

in my entire life.

All right, Fleety, hop to it!

Das boot?

Hey,
there's upholstery under here!

I think I found Freud's couch!

What the frog?

Mein Gott!

That, to me, is wild!

The hell? The couch is alive?

Rip! Over here!

Watch out!

What the hell are you doing?!

That was our only way
out of here!

Now we're trapped here
with that thing!

Exactly. We can't let it
loose into society.

It would do harm.

And as a doctor,
you must do no harm.

- You know your shit.
- Oh, open your eyes, you fool.

Trapping us here
is gonna harm me,

one of the top dudes around.

Interesting.
In a time of crisis,

you think only about yourself.

I don't only think about myself.

For instance, right now,

I'm thinking about
how much I loathe you.

So you've already made
a breakthrough?

Sounds like
congratulations are in order.

Sure. Congratulations.

You just signed
our death certificates!

Good thing I'm a doctor.
That's part of the job.

Well, I'd love to give you
another job. A hand job!

That's right.
I want to shove you.

We got to get out of here!

Follow me!

There.

We're barricaded in.
This should be a safe place

to hide from
whatever that thing is.

It's Dr. Freud's old couch.
It was buried down here.

Really? I knew this was the site
of Freud's old castle,

but I foolishly assumed

there wasn't a living furniture
monster alive in the rubble.

Well, I got news for you, Doc.

It's the real reason
why we're here.

We're on an undercover
Arky mission.

We're not really
mental patients.

Yup, we're all completely sane.

Wonderfully, funderfully sane.

Uh-huh.

You guys seem about
as regular as my period,

Which is about
every 60-something days.

Tepid response to period joke.

Must workshop it.

Guys, check it out!

I found Sigmund Freud's journal!

His last entry says,
"Mankind is despicable.

"And I shall make them pay
for what they've done

once I transfer my consciousness
into that hulking corpse"?

Why was Freud
so angry at mankind?

He was a respected doctor.

The castle must have collapsed

mid-experiment,
and Freud accidentally

transferred his consciousness
into the couch instead.

Nein! Not the couch! The hunk!

I want to be the hunk!

Is that scientifically possible?

Hold on. Let me check the notes.

Yes.

So Freud's soul is couched
in his sofa?

This find is gonna get me
on the Arky Rankings for sure.

So you're not interested
in Freud's couch

because of
its historical significance

but because finding it
would feed your ego.

Hey, what are you
writing in there?

Oh, you're not gonna tell me?
Well, two can play that game.

- Yes.
- Wow. This is upsetting.

Why? 'Cause I didn't get
Garf's stripes right?

They're deceptively tricky.

Focus up. To capture this couch,
we need to lure it out.

Well, Freud believes that sex
motivates all human behavior.

So we can lure it out by
appealing to Freud's sex drive.

But who here is Freud's type?

I recently had a glow up.

Doctors are pretty obsessed
with me.

Always calling me,
leaving me urgent voicemails.

"You're gonna die, Swooper.
You have gas in your veins!"

Let's face it.
He's a doctor. I'm a doctor.

Plus, I'm cool.
I'm a certified hang glider.

Hang gliding's
not cool.

Spoken like a man who's never
specked out due to ridge lift.

Look, we're all
frigging smokeshows,

but now that Freud's a couch,

wouldn't he be attracted
to furniture?

My God, the loud guy's right.

There's a store room
with extra couches upstairs.

Agatha and Swooper,
you're on couch duty with me.

You two, stand guard, but you're
not allowed to talk about me.

He said, knowing full well
they're gonna dish.

Man, they got
a buttload of couches here.

Anyway, stay frosty.
That thing could be anywhere.

Check it out.

Stiletto legs,
red upholstery, massive pillows.

Yeah, I'd fuck this couch.

Agatha, you're being weird,
but I don't disagree.

Let's grab it.

Psst.

Agatha, go!

I'll handle the couch.

Ow, ow!

Tell Cornelia I died this way!
Spare no detail!

Oh! Just go!

Where's Swooper?

He's dead!
And you'll be next

if we don't get out of here!

- What?
- Just go! Bottle up your grief

and never let it out.
Let it become generational.

That's horrible advice.

Tell that to my many forebears!

Okay, sexy couch is in position.

Hey, Rip, are you thinking
about Swooper?

Yeah, I am.
I know this sounds crazy,

but I wish he had never been
killed by a man-eating couch.

That doesn't sound crazy.

Why don't you leave that sort
of analysis to the experts.

Some expert.

Your great sex drive plan
got Swooper killed!

What's next?
We get Agatha disemboweled?

Stop screaming!
You're gonna attract...

Agatha!

Saltine, hurry.

Commit Seppuku
so you can preserve your honor.

I don't have a katana, Rip.

I can't die a samurai's death.

No!

My hang glider!

It's specking out
due to ridge lift!

Son of a bitch stole my rig.
Now it's personal.

Now it's personal?

It just ate
my three best friends.

Who you never ask
how they're doing.

Willkommen to the
Sound of Music locations tour.

This is the very spot where
the main lady danced around--

Oh, my God!

I love working
at the sausage factory.

Can't believe I have
only one day until retirement.

Oh, God!

Oh, it brings
the orphans such joy

when they get to play
with the puppies.

I hope no other tragedies
befall them.

Oh, my God! Sigmund Freud's
couch has come to life,

and is rampaging
across Vienna, Austria.

Oh, no. Good thing
we're in Vienna, Virginia,

where we're safe.

Yes, good thing indeed.

Thanks again for
Free-Solo-ing me on your back

out of the institute, Doc.

You have mad
upper-body strength.

Of course. -Man, these
Austrian pastries are divine.

They're really helping
distract me from the fact

that all of my friends
just died.

Mmm. Mouthgasm.

Now, we need to come up
with a plan

to stop Freud's
murderous rampage.

Well, as much I wanted
to put that couch in a museum,

it's clearly too dangerous.

We got to blow it--
and I don't say this lightly--

to smithereens.

I just feel like,
if we could get to the core

of why Freud's doing this,
we could get him to stop.

I feel like I'm at a duck pond,

what with all this
typical quack talk.

It's like I'm watching
an episode of DuckTales.

They don't quack in DuckTales.

Aw, damn it,
my TV speaker's broken.

What about Succession?

Are they not quacking
at each other on that? -No.

What kind of speaker
are you using?

Bo's. Well, it doesn't
belong to Bo anymore.

I bought it from him.

So now I guess it's Rip's.

But I think the brand
is Yamaha. -Ugh.

I'm just saying,
this type of behavior

is clearly a cry for help.

It would be a travesty
to destroy this thing

without first trying
to understand it.

That ship sailed
when it devoured my team.

Oh, my God.

On the TV. Dr. Freud
is at the amusement park.

Hilf mir!

You still want to take the time
to rehabilitate this thing?

Or should we go blow it to hell?

The latter.

Hello?

Michelle, is that you?

No, it's me, Saltine.
Who's Michelle?

She's just a friend.

You sounded like her
for a second,

but I guess it makes sense
that it's you

since we got swallowed
at the same time.

- Where are we?
- The couch ate us.

- Now we're in heaven.
- No, we're not.

What? But I forsook sin.

I saw heaven once

when I flew really high
in my aeroplane.

It looks way different
from this.

It's mostly black,
and it's really hard to breathe.

What was that?

It was my cool invention,

which I'm now calling
the Hole Hound.

If it's beeping,
there's must be a hole nearby.

I'm gonna go look for it.

Are you sure it's not just

picking up any of our holes?

No! I changed the settings!

Woo-hoo!

These hang gliders
friggin' shred!

Not to mention
the adrenaline hit

I'm still getting off stealing
them from those guys we killed.

Okay,
I'll distract Freud.

You get the kids.

You'll have to do
better than that.

Rip, I've got the children.

Great. Are any of them
traumatized?

Not yet. We made it
with ten seconds to spare.

Okay. You get them out of there.
I'll blow Dr. Freud sky-high.

Hyah!

Prepare to perish,

Sigmund Freud's consciousness
put into a giant couch monster.

Rip, don't!

We're still alive in here.

Don't blow us up!

Oh, my...

Oh, no, you don't.

Sandra!

- I love you.
- You're projecting.

If I kill this monster,
I also kill my friends?

Could this catch be any more 22?

What am I gonna do?

Damn it! I can't do it.

Damn.

I wish Dr. Null was still here.

She'd know what to do.

Wait, what was it
she said earlier?

If we could get to the
core of why Freud's doing this,

we could get him to stop.

That's it! I'm so glad
I can remember it

exactly as it was said.

Dr. Freud, before you kill me,

I have something
I want to ask you.

How-- come on, Rip,
you can do this--

how... are you...

...feeling?

You're... You're asking... me?

Whoa. You talk?
I-I mean, yes, I am.

No one has ever asked me
about myself before.

That's why you lost
your marbles, isn't it?

Because you spent decades asking
everybody else about themselves,

but nobody ever
asked you about yourself.

Precisely. At first,
it didn't bother me,

but as the years went on,
it drove me mad.

Wow, that's really hard.

People should ask their
therapists how they're doing

more often, rather than
blathering on about themselves.

I assume.

Obviously, I don't go to therapy
because it's a racket.

In fact, I refer to it

as the industry of death, often.

But that being said and meant,

I'm happy to...
listen

if you want
to talk about yourself.

- Really?
- Yes, but on one condition.

You have to promise to barf out
all the people you ate.

Okay. Deal.
Now then, where to begin?

I mean, my childhood
was pretty rough...

Hey, you have to stay awake

and pay attention
the entire time.

- Or the deal is off.
- No, no, no, I'm awake.

I've got chronic TMJ

from taking too many Molly doses
cut with Speed.

Please continue talking
about yourself.

Okay, so, back to my childhood,
or maybe even earlier,

my mother's childhood.

In Vienna, it's, like,

culturally expected
you play piano,

but Mummy had other plans...

So fucking boring.

Now, shorts with a tie
and jacket were de rigeur

for little boys back then,
but you could really make

a statement with your socks.

And the reason I thought I'd be
good at interpreting dreams

is because I have
really weird ones,

like this one where I'm a goat,

but I'm also my dad
if he was a goat.

Whew. That's the stuff.

Sometimes I do
silly voices like...

"'Ello, how you
doing? You doing all right?"

Or like...
"Howdy, y'all. I like that."

Maybe I should make front-facing
videos, or am I too old?

And that is why
I ate all those people.

- I am really sorry.
- Did I do it?

I listened to everything?

Yep. Well, you upheld
your end of the bargain,

and now I will do the same.

Oh, God, I hate that feeling
so much.

I can't believe it didn't work.

I'm all covered
in goose pimples now,

and I haven't even booted yet.

Okay, I'm just going to
freaking do it.

I'm going to gag myself.
Here I go.

- Rip, you did it.
- Indeed.

Because I learned
an important lesson today.

I always thought you were only
supposed to ask other people

about themselves
if you genuinely care

what they had to say,
but that's not it at all.

You do it so that people feel
like the world cares about them

and they don't turn
into crazy monsters

who take their resentment
out on society.

It's for the good of humanity,
even though we all know that,

to us, it's boring as shit.

Thank you for saving us, Rip.

Sure thing, Doc. I couldn't have
done it without your help.

And who knows, maybe
I could call you sometime?

Sorry, Rip,

that would be crossing
a professional boundary.

No, no, not like that.

I meant maybe I could call you
to set up a therapy session.

Oh. I'd like that, Rip.

I think you have
a lot of issues.

Thanks again, everyone,

for helping me
work through my problems.

Dr. Freud, wait. With our
combined psychoanalytic powers,

we could go on therapeutic
adventures across the world.

Of course.
And it will take both of us

to bring down
The Mental Illness Mafia.

Wait, Dr. Null!

When should we have
our first session?

It's great that
you want therapy, Rip,

but for now, I'm out of network.

Wow, so this is
based on King Lear?

Swooper, how was the bathroom
for the last 20 minutes?

What'd you get up to in there?
Tell me everything.

- It was fine.
- Hey, hey.

Saltine and Agatha,
how were your weekends?

- Pretty good, I guess.
- Fine.

Well, don't stop there.

Agatha, how was your poker game?

Pray tell, was there any juicy
goss upon which I might munch?

I want to hear all about it.

- Knock it off.
- I can't.

I don't want any of you
going crazy

from not being asked
about yourselves, like Freud.

- We're not going to.
- Can't be too careful though.

Well, we had a lot of fun here,
but mental health is important.

If you or someone you know is
struggling with mental health,

contact a licensed professional
and get the help you need today.

- Rip, who are you talking to?
- I don't know.

Chirp.

♪ MTV. ♪