Original subtitles

Tessa: Winter, spring, summer, fall,

I was familiar with all four seasons.

So you can imagine how surprised I was to learn that Chatswin

had one more season.

Croquet.

(Clatters)

(Man) ♪ let's go

♪ let's go, let's go

technique was important,

but so was chemistry between partners.

Hey, y'all. This is Sven from Iceland.

He's uncircumcised.

(Thud) Ow.

Having the wrong partner could really throw off the game.

(Dallas laughs)

(Sighs)

(Gasps)

Do they have croquet in Mexico?

Oh, I'm from Guatemala.

Croquet season coincided with mating season,

and Dallas seemed to be enjoying her newly single life,

even if it was raising a few eyebrows.

(Dallas chuckles)

(Whispers) That's a woman.

I can see that, Fred.

(Dallas giggles)

Meanwhile, a new woman had just entered my life as well.

(Anya Marina) ♪ Semester is out

♪ uh-huh, uh-huh

♪ the teacher is in

♪ uh-huh, uh-huh

♪ there ain't no exams

(Tessa) Cool.

♪ You better bet you're gonna learn something ♪

♪ uh-huh, uh-huh

♪ oh, uh-huh, uh-huh

♪ oh, uh-huh, uh-huh

Okay. What do you think about this one?

I think it's weird that you've tried on three outfits

for a poetry class.

That's because you don't get it, George.

Ms. Evans is super cool. I have to look cool,

or she won't realize how cool I am.

You know, in my day... The early '90s...

Coolness was about not trying to look cool.

Nirvana taught us that.

Don't be stupid, George. Ms. Evans is from San Francisco.

She has a shoulder tattoo,

and she once made out with Casey Affleck.

I'm gonna go try on some chunky glasses.

(Doorbell rings)

Sorry to bother you, George, but it's an emergency.

It's about Dallas.

There's been an accident.

Oh, my God. Is she okay?

No, she's not.

Quite frankly, she's a hot mess.

She's been parading a bunch of traveling men

around the croquet field.

Okay, that doesn't sound like an accident.

It's a social accident.

People are talking.

To be fair, it's mostly us.

And that's usually how it starts.

She's been acting like a real tramp.

And that's gonna drive down property values.

I don't see how it could. "Tramp town"?

I don't want to live there. I might plan a day trip...

George, Dallas needs help

and stability and a croquet partner

who doesn't look like he has...

Crabs.

Okay, look, I don't know

if Dallas would want me to be her partner.

The last time I tried to give her personal advice,

we got into a fight.

She's a little sensitive post-divorce.

Well, no better way to mend hurt feelings

than with a mallet and some balls.

Amen.

Sync and corrected by dr.jackson for www.addic7ed.com

(Alih Jay) ♪ Last night I had a pleasant nightmare ♪

♪ da-da-da-da, da, da, da, da ♪

(Door creaks)

Sheila!

We closed early for inventory.

You home?

(Singsongy) Hello?

Anybody home?

(Chuckles)

All right.

Hank moody, whose Booty shall we plunder today?

Damn it!

Ohh!

(Remote control clatters)

Ohh.

Where is that stupid password?

Oh, really?

(Sighs)

(Sheila's voice) "I had the dream again last night.

I had just finished scolding Lisa..." (Doorbell rings)

"When the doorbell rang..."

(Door creaks) "And George was there.

"He complimented my parenting skills

"and noticed how tidy the house was.

"I went to fix him a cup of tea,

"and when I returned,

"he was completely nude and covered in oil...

"Not the dirty, black oil,

"but the sexy, clear kind.

"He stood there glistening,

"and then he opened my mouth

and kissed me like a frenchman."

(Sighs) Aah!

(Book thuds)

(Sighs)

(Tessa) The arrival of Ms. Evans

made me realize what I'd really been missing in Chatswin...

A role model, someone cool whose style and taste

i could actually look up to.

You all did a great job on your first in-class assignment,

but I want to single out a special student in our midst.

In fact, I don't even know if we can really call

this person a "student,"

for I believe she's here to teach us.

It wasn't like me to showboat,

but it also wasn't like me to question the judgment

of someone as cool as Ms. Evans.

Dalia Royce, will you do us the honor

of reading your poem, "Aids frowny face,"

for the class?

Dalia Royce?

Is that bitch high?

(School bell rings)

Ms. Evans...

Are you high?

Never mind.

I'm super excited for this class,

and I... really love poetry.

Thanks, Tessa. That's a great attitude.

(Lowered voice) Poetry loves you, too.

(Gasps) Good.

(Chuckles) I was hoping it did.

Look, I just wanted to let you know,

unlike everyone else in this town, I get it.

(Singsongy) Chatswin is super weird...

(Normal voice) And kinda shallow,

and if you ever need someone to stand apart

and observe the shallow weirdness

with an acerbic wit,

I'm your girl.

I'll keep that in mind.

A 72?

A lot of people think you can't assign a number grade

to something as subjective as a poem,

but you can.

Huh.

Don't be so hard on yourself.

We can't all be Dalia Royce right out of the gate.

You know, I have been teaching poetry

for 2 1/4 years now,

and I have never seen anyone quite like her before.

Yeah, she's unique.

She's able to make small revelations seem complex.

Her voice has a sort of detached opacity.

Oh, is that what it has?

Some of that acerbic wit you were referring to?

Not bad, Tessa. Not bad.

I'd give it a 74.

I know what you're thinking,

and, yes, you can also grade wit.

Thanks.

Mm-hmm.

(Indistinct conversations)

I heard this group was looking for a fourth.

Really, Sheila?

George Altman? That's who you wanted to set me up with?

Yes, for croquet. Lookin' good, George.

Really? I'd say he's looking a little fat in the face.

Fred, nice to see you.

So, George, are you here to tell me how to live

my newly single life, oppress me, finesse me,

redress me, wrap me head to toe in a sherpa?

I-I think you mean a burka.

I refuse to be corrected by the likes of you.

I may have used the wrong word, but that's my right.

I'm a full-grown woman, George Altman. Full-grown.

(Chuckles) Dallas, relax. No one thinks you're...

Still growing.

- Good. - Look, I come in peace.

I just thought it might be nice

to be on the same team for a change.

Well, we'll just see about that, George.

I'd like to reserve judgment

until I see how you handle your mallet.

Oh, this?

I got this.

Boom!

(Chuckles) What was that?

(Chuckles) Was that your swing? (Laughs)

- That's not how it's done, George. - Ohh.

It's through the legs.

Let me show you. I'll show him.

Stand down, Fred.

First of all, you gotta get a good grip on that shaft, okay?

Okay. Tight, but don't choke it, all right?

Nice. Good.

Slow thrust here. Thrust...

Mm-hmm.

With a lot of follow-through.

Mm-hmm. All right.

Gonna use your body to drive it.

Drive it. Drive it.

Drive it, George.

Drive it. Good. Drive it.

Drive it in a straight line.

Drive it! All right. Drive it, George!

- Whoo! - Beautiful!

That was beautiful!

It really was. Go, George!

(Billy squier's "Everybody wants you" playing)

Right through that hole.

♪ You see 'em comin' at you

whoo! Uhh!

♪ Strung on pretension

♪ they fall for you at first sight ♪

Ow! (Grunts)

Timber! Ha ha ha ha!

♪ Say good-bye to conventional ways ♪

♪ you can't escape the hours

♪ you lose track of the days

♪ the more you understand

(George) Right through, ladies!

♪ You never get away

(grunts)

♪ Everybody wants you

(George) Ha ha ha!

♪ Whoo

(lowered voice) Enough.

- What? - You've made your point.

You're a croquet God.

Now stick it back in your pants and show a little dignity.

Whoa. Fred, what's wrong with you?

You are frothing my wife up into a frothy frenzy,

and I would appreciate a little decorum.

Uh, okay. I didn't mean to froth anyone.

Well, you just remember this, George Altman.

Sheila's last name is the same as mine,

so no matter how much she may fantasiz about

your tumescent addendum, I'm the man she married.

Got it?

I-I don't know what that means.

What is that on your face? Is that dirt?

(Scoffs) I have no idea what you're talking about.

(Indistinct conversations)

What do you think they're talking about?

Who?

Ms. Evans is probably telling Dalia

about some cool, new band whose bass player

she used to date,

a band Dalia would never in a million years be into,

but I would have loved.

Well, I'm not a professional lip-reader,

but I think Dalia just said something about brownies?

Or bran eyes? Brown thighs.

I hope Dalia enjoys the attention while it lasts,

because that's gonna be me soon.

Once Ms. Evans reads the poem I just finished...

(Exhales deeply) Things are gonna go

a little differently around here.

You're gonna have a tough time competing

with the one I wrote about Ryan.

Well, I'm not messing around anymore.

(Paper rustles loudly)

I decided to go there.

Are you...

Playing the "mom left when I was young" card?

Yeah. Yes, I am.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Seems pretty desperate.

That's the first time I've beaten the Shays ever.

Felt good. Felt real good.

Thank you.

Did you notice anything strange about Sheila today?

You mean the shoes?

I wasn't gonna go there, but it looked like

she stole 'em off a court Jester.

There! Somebody said it.

(Lowered voice) I wasn't talking about her shoes.

Did you notice her throwing me any vibes?

Vibes? What kind of vibes?

(Sighs) Sexual vibes.

I think you're stone-cold trippin'.

If I recall, just recently,

you accused me of being into you as well.

After you kissed me, not to harp,

but this... This is different.

(Chuckles) Sounds like someone's decided

they're the white Wesley Snipes of Chatswin.

The whole female population's in some sort

of hormonal tizzy... (Cell phone alert chimes)

Since you rolled into town. Is that it, George? (Sighs)

(Whispers) I'm not wearing any underwear. (Gasps)

"Bugatti Veyron. Lamborghini Murceilago.

"Pagani Zonda. Ferrari Enzo.

"Think about it.

"You guys.

Cars."

Boom.

(Whispers) Wow.

(Normal voice) Powerful.

Wow. I just got it.

Welcome, Lisa... To getting it.

Okay. (Chuckles) Whew.

(Chuckles) Who'd like to go next?

Although I can't imagine trying to follow that act.

(Sighs)

"Mother.

"Girl turns 3 on a store-bought cake.

"Extinguished the candles but not the hate.

"No kiss good night.

"No lipstick red.

"No cool hand

touching her feverish..."

(Voice breaks) "Head."

Okeydokey.

(School bell rings)

Tessa, can I see you for a moment?

(Singsong voice, under breath) Finally. Some recognition.

(Whispers) Okay.

Can I ask you something personal?

Oh, God, yes! Ask me anything.

Let's connect.

Was there any truth behind your poem today?

A lot of truth.

So much truth, truly.

Huh. Strange.

I found myself not caring.

Not...

Caring at all, and it pained me

to see you grasping at straws creatively.

Dalia, would you consider working with Tessa

on her poetry?

Ugh. Do I have to?

No, certainly not. Totally up to you.

I really don't like Tessa.

Wow. You don't pull any punches, do you?

(Whispers) That's brave.

It's just I really can't stand Tessa.

So honest.

Look, I can throw in a little extra credit for you.

Okay. Fine.

I guess I'll do it, since it's for extra credit.

You are both true and wise

- Dalia Royce. - I know.

- Good news, she's willing.. - Yeah.

I heard.

I don't have an original idea in my head.

Poetry class not going well?

Teacher didn't give you an "A" for those chunky glasses?

- She's not into me. - Oh, come on.

Believe me, no one's more surprised than I am.

Ms. Evans is inexplicably enamored with... Dalia.

Dalia Royce.

- I don't get it. - Yikes.

Yeah. It stings. It stings a lot.

Dalia is the most vapid, shallow, black hole

of a human being I've ever met.

Oh, o-okay. Don't take it out on Dalia.

H-have you ever considered that maybe it's not so easy being

the object of affection?

- No. - I'm just saying,

sometimes it hard to be aggressively adored

by someone whose attention you don't really want.

Maybe, just maybe, Dalia is the real victim here.

Really? This is where you want to take

the conversation, George? Sympathy for Dalia?

You are a horrible dad.

Now that's the kind of negative attention I'm used to.

(Sighs)

(Lowered voice) What are you dreaming about, Sheila?

Are you dreaming about gorgeous George Altman?

Is he the hot delivery boy tonight,

coming to your door with a pile of fresh meat?

No. No, no, no. Stop dreaming about him.

Dream about Fred,

comfortable, steadfast Fred,

always-there-for-you Fred,

Fred of the killer foot massage.

(Sighs) Ohh. I can't take it.

I can't take it. (Switch clicks)

What? What is it? Is it a night prowler?

(Sighs) No.

(Sighs) Sheila, we need to talk.

I-I read your diary.

What? Fred, that's a violation of my privacy.

I know. I'm sorry.

Believe me, I wish I hadn't seen it,

because now I know how you feel about George,

and I can't get it out of my head.

(Sighs)

Well... Maybe it's for the best.

What?

Having it out in the open, I mean.

It's a schoolgirl fantasy.

But you're not a schoolgirl.

(Sighs)

I'm glad you know.

I love you, Fred,

and that is unchanged by the fact

that I lust endlessly over George.

(Sighs) Ohh.

(Panting)

(Lowered voice) Grow, you bastard. Grow.

(Inhales deeply and sighs)

Whether or not Dalia was actually good

at poetry didn't matter.

Ms. Evans thought she was, and I had to find out why.

How?

It's easy.

I just empty my head, and words pop in it.

Could you walk me through that process step-by-step?

You know, you suck right now, even for you.

Just tell me how to write good poetry

that Ms. Evans will like!

Just stop trying so hard!

(Brush clatters)

You know, you're totally fanning out

over some gross teacher with greasy hair.

Ms. Evans is awesome.

How would you know?

All you know is that she doesn't like you.

She's your Scott Strauss.

- What? - Remember when he was dating

- that really ugly girl... - That was me.

And the more he didn't jock me, the more I jocked him?

That's you,

except with a sad, middle-aged, weirdo poetry teacher with B.O.

Did I just receive a lesson in human nature

from the least human person I know?

Yeah, you think about that, beeyotch,

because I see it sinking in.

(Doorbell rings)

I want you to make love to my wife.

Fred, diggin' the goatee.

(Sighs) Come on in.

I can't.

I-I care about you as a friend, but I can't.

I won't.

Okay, look, George, Noah,

I've put a lot of thought into this. A lot.

I love my wife.

She means the world to me,

but she has needs that I'm not fulfilling,

and I want them to be fulfilled.

Fred, please...

Hear the man out. (Chuckles)

(Sighs) I-I have pride, sure,

but I can crumple that pride up

into a little ball and eat it.

For Sheila, I can eat it, and I will.

Fred, Sheila loves you.

If there is some fleeting infatuation

that she has going on with me, it's just that... fleeting.

Are you saying no? I mean, you won't satisfy my wife?

What, is she not good enough for you, Mr. Altman?

'Cause let me tell you something.

She will do things to you...

Things you can't even imagine,

things that aren't even legal.

I believe it.

Okay, Fred, go home to your wife.

Go work this thing out, the two of you.

Well, this isn't very neighborly of you, George.

It's not very neighborly at all,

so let's just see what happens the next time

you want to borrow my rake, shall we?

I have a rake.

I'm gonna try to transfer out.

After failing gym, I can't really afford

a "C" in poetry. (Spritzing)

Wow. So you're off Ms. Evans, huh?

It's weird.

I don't know what made me so desperate

for the approval of a withholding older woman

who clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

Yeah.

Yeahno. Me either.

Yeah.

It's a puzzler.

Yeah. No, it is. It's curious.

Mm-hmm.

(Door creaks open)

Fred, where have you been? I have been worried sick.

Sheila, I need to speak to you privately.

I failed you. George wouldn't agree to make love to you.

I asked him, but he denied me. Hey, Tessa. Hello, Lisa.

What in God's name are you talking about?

George Altman... Your fantasy.

I'm only sorry I couldn't make him your reality.

He won't have intercourse with you,

won't even consider it.

Fred, I am not attracted to George Altman.

I couldn't be less attracted to George Altman.

He's... unkempt!

The George from my diary is George Stephanopoulos.

The little Greek man from "Good morning America"?

I like a tidy, petite man. You know that.

(Sighs) You couldn't have used a last name?

I don't know how to spell his name.

It's not my fault. It's a ridiculous last name!

Oh, Sheila Shay-Shay.

(Both laugh)

(Door closes)

(TV playing indistinctly)

- Where's George? I've got news. - He's about to do something drastic.

I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't listen to me.

(Buzzing)

Just do it.

Wait!

Stop. (Buzzing stops)

Tessa, I love it, too, but it's gotta go,

for everyone's good.

(Sighs) I think it's just too sexy.

Dad, Sheila's not obsessed with you.

She's obsessed with the George from "Good morning America,"

so you may not be the Casanova of Chatswin after all.

Oh.

Hi. What's... what's this?

It's a ball carrier for you to carry your balls.

"George-ass"?

Oh, it's pronounced "George-uhs."

It's a combination of both our names,

like Bennifer, Brangelina, or Ceelo.

I-I think he's just one guy.

He couldn't possibly be.

Well... (Sighs) It's time to make it official, George,

since we're gonna be partners and all.

So are we?

Sync and corrected by dr.jackson for www.addic7ed.com