All language subtitles for Pushing.Daisies.S01E06.Bitches.HDTV-Caph.eng

Previously on Pushing Daisies...

- I missed you.
- I missed you, too.

Can we get on with this, please?

You think I faked my death?

- You have a better explanation?
- Does Ned know...

- what you think you know?
- Who knows?

Do you pet him?

Maybe if you did,
he wouldn't be so neurotic.

I can't actually
touch him but I pet him.

With a stick?

It's more like a handle
to a petting device.

You saved me!

Season 1 Episode 6
"Bitches"

www.All-about-Subs.fr

Bedtime at the Longborough school
for boys was a time for dreams.

Dreams filled with the blis
that came from a happy childhood.

But on this night,

one boy chose to dream
with his eyes wide open.

11 weeks, 1 day, 7 hours
and 41 minutes ago,

young Ned was living
that happy childhood,

complete with a lovely home,
caring mother, and boyhood sweetheart.

A girl he called Chuck.

But when his mother died...

... twice,
young Ned awoke to a new reality.

Though he could reanimate the dead,

young Ned could only animate

the inanimate with his imagination.

On this lonely night, he tried
to re-create his past life.

But he'd lost his ability to dream,

and found even
his imagination failed him.

Still, he wore hope on his head.

And what young Ned didn't know
was at that very moment,

the girl he called Chuck
was wearing hope on hers.

They were together,
even if they were far apart.

For unfortunately,

the pie maker
could never, ever touch her.

Are you watching me asleep?

No. Sort of.

But mainly was just waiting
for you to wake up,

but in the process of waiting
for you to wake up, I was.

Yes, I was watching you asleep.

You do that a lot, don't you?

It's like watching you
come back to life.

Again.

Good morning.

You're not...

How come I'm not...

Maybe it wears off.
Maybe there's an eclipse. Maybe...

Oh, my god. Your skin is amazing.

Stop talking.

We're wearing too many clothes.

- I'm still wearing too many clothes.
- You're not wearing any.

Much better.

Don't tell Chuck.

Are you watching me asleep?

Yes, I was.

You do that a lot, don't you?

Yes, I do.

The pie maker wanted to tell Chuck,

that he liked
watching the moment she waked,

that it was like watching her
come back to life... again.

So, instead, he said nothing.

So the pie maker sought to use
Emerson Cod as a sounding board

for that reality.

Which recently included a moonlit kiss

with one Olive Snook.

I had a sexy dream
about Olive last night,

and I'm sure it was influenced
by a reality-based kiss.

By the road, you know.

There's no way for this conversation
to be anything but awkward for me.

She was wearing
a Chuck suit in the dream.

What do you think it means,
beyond the obvious?

Dreams are just your brain
processing random rigmarole

it couldn't find a place for.

It don't mean nothing except you
feel guilty about kissing Olive

when you want to be kissing
some dead girl you can't.

I said, "beyond the obvious."
And Olive kissed me.

It was a friendly expression
of innocent gratitude.

Was it a wet kiss or a dry kiss?

There was a little moisture, I guess.

That girl dropped a bomb
in your sub-concious with her saliva.

You make it sound so devious,

and it's not.

It didn't mean anything,
which is why Chuck doesn't have to know.

Emerson Cod had a very particular view
on romantic relations.

Some women love like gangsters.

They be like,
"Baby, you bleeding! How that happen?"

While they hiding the razor in
their weave.

Olive's not a gangster.

Why do you think she's always
rubbing up on you?

To be nice.

It's an employer-employee kind of

niceness that occasionally includes
platonic rubbing.

Ain't nothing platonic about it.

You coming undone, ain't you?

- I don't want to touch Olive.
- Not in that way.

In fact the pie maker was coming undone.

As he wrestled with the meaning
of Olive's affections,

Olive wrestled with her own
emotions about the kiss.

So she confessed.

It didn't mean a thing.
That's why I'm telling you. It was a,

friendly expression
of innocent gratitude. A peck.

It didn't even last a second.
In fact, one thousand one.

See? Couldn't have been half that.

- Half?
- A third.

Maybe even a quarter. Very brief.

He didn't mention it?

No. Should he have?

No.

Olive Snook was saddened
her kiss wasn't worth a mention.

Well.

Ned deserves a friendly
expression of innocent gratitude,

but I don't think I'd like it
if you did it again.

I don't think I'd like it either.

I mean I would, but not in this context.

So, that being said,
were his lips soft?

You don't know?

We don't touch.

Well, not directly.
Prophylactically, yes, but

nothing more.

You don't touch. You don't!

I have been watching you,

not obsessively but I've been
paying attention. You don't touch.

We can't.

Which is why you kiss
through the plastic food wrap.

I couldn't get my head around it.
Do you have some kind of...

deadly food allergy to Ned?

I'm gonna say yes.

I get swelling, eczema, hives.
You know, all things to avoid.

That's the most tragic story
I've ever heard.

Not with standing the big-ticket
items like genocide and famine,

but tragic nonetheless.

I don't know.

- It's really not that bad.
- And it wasn't... yet.

At that very moment, 14 miles
due west as a crow flies,

Harold Hundin was experiencing
something much more tragic.

His murder.

The facts were these.

Harold Hundin, a renowned dog breeder

and president of the papen county
kennel club,

was 37 years, 11 weeks, 5 days,
1 hour, and 2 minutes old

when he was stabbed
multiple times in his office

at the papen county kennel club.

The kennel club offered a reward

for information leading
to the arrest of his killer.

And where there was a reward,

there was Emerson Cod.

Hello, Mr. Hundin.

We're gonna move through things
quickly and efficiently,

so pay close attention
cause this concerns you.

You have one minute to answer
a brief series of questions.

Short, concise answers are best.

But feel free to elaborate
if you need to.

- When does my minute start?
- 15 seconds ago.

Any last wishes or woulda,
shoulda, couldas?

Wish I could have said
good bye to Bubblegum.

- I have stick gum.
- Bubblegum's my dog.

Hey, if you people are angels,

I would love it if you would
surround her with white light

or positive energy
or whatever it is you do.

She was a sweet girl.

Yeah, yeah, white light.
Check. Next question.

Who stabbed you, Mr. Hundin?

There was stabbing,
but nobody stabbed me.

Harold Hundin detailed

the strange series of events

that resulted in his stabbings.

Before Harold Hundin could stab himself,

he was poisoned.

A puddle of spilled coffee,

an unfortunately positioned
designer dog brush.

With an unfortunately sharp end...

And is a tenacity expedited his death.

I tasted almonds in my coffee.
Real bitter.

Exceptionally bitter.

With an intense charismatic flavor
that could only be cyanide.

You taste the cyanide?

A dog could taste it, 1/6 the number
of taste buds I have.

Well, then, fool, why you drink it?

I was using an almond-flavored
coffee cream creamer

in my coffee, and I thought
maybe it went bad,

but there were no curdles.

And by the time I figured out it
was poisoned, it was too late.

- Who gave you the coffee?
- My wife.

Honey, how could you?

Now, that's gangster love.

Don't you worry. Honey is gonna
get what's coming to her.

Great, I'll come with.

See that?
Simple.

Ask a question, you get an answer.

There's no room for butt scuttle
or misinterpretation.

Thank you, Lord, for simple things like,

"my wife did it."

Ah, yes!

Hey. You find Harold's wife?

All four of them.

That son of a bitch
was a damn polygamist.

Harold Hundin was indeed
a damn polygamist with multiple misses,

of which there were four.

Hilary was his first...

Heather his second...

Simone his third...

And Hallie was his fourth
and final wife.

But only one of the Hundin wives
killed their husband.

Wondering why her kiss
with the pie maker went unmentioned,

Olive Snook attempted to mention
the unmentionable.

We should clear the air.

Does our air need clearing?

Our relations on the road.

That.
I haven't thought another...

Thought about that.

- Four wives? That's just greedy.
- And intriguing.

Some people like vanilla.
Some like chocolate.

- Others like their Neapolitan.
- I like Neapolitan.

Then you'd do well as a polygamist.

One woman to have,
one woman to hold.

Why would you do that? For the record,
I would make a horrible polygamist.

I'm easily distracted.
I wouldn't know where to focus.

Well, Harold Hundin knew where to focus.

Found himself the perfect wife,

except she had four heads.

They were all breeders, too.

They make children
for their polygamy cult?

Dog breeders.

They make dogs for their polygamy cult?

Ain't nobody making nothing
for no polygamy cult.

So, which wife do you think
wanted to kill him most?

- How do you know a wife did it?
- He left a note.

A note. How mysterious.
Can I play?

No. Sorry.
Emerson doesn't like.

Although...

- I love a good "although."
- Me too.

The same faces show up
at four different places asking

suspicious questions, they'll be onto us
faster than you can say "monogamy".

Well, we got four suspects.
We got four faces.

Does that mean I get to play?

If you're playing,
it's, like, for play-play.

Know you ain't getting paid, right?

And the suspects were these.

Hilary Hundin,

owner of Pr�t-�-poochie designer
dog wear and accessories.

She was the first
to join Harold in matrimony.

Hilary Hundin was generally
pleasant, happy, and perky,

but might snap if teased or surprised.

Pluralizing the marriage
was Heather Hundin,

a renowned pet psychologist

and host of the weekly radio show

"doggonit."

Simone Hundin was Harold's third wife.

She pioneered k-18 obedience,

where demanding dog owners
got double from their canines.

Bang, bang, bang.

Like the jack-russels-terriers
she trains and breeds,

Simone possesses strong
hunting instincts

that, if left unchecked,

could result in deadly aggression.

Harold Hundin's fourth
and final wife was young Hallie,

who bred labradors

and donated them as seeing
eye dogs to the blind.

Like her labs,
Hallie was loyal, friendly,

and competitively obedient.

She craved human attention,
but if denied,

her competitive obedience
could god girl horribly awry.

Wait,

We going undercover,

and by "undercover," I mean
that under no circumstances

are you to reveal any factual
information about your person.

- You mean you want us to lie.
- I want you to lie consistently,

and we all got to take turns
with the dog.

He has a name you know.

Yeah, and you better
lie about that, too.

You have a gorgeous selection
of couture.

Pickle loves him some D&G.

He'd like to know
if that comes in green.

I'm just kidding.
He really didn't say that.

- Hello, I'm Pimento. And you are?
- Ned.

Ned. Have you had Ned
since he was a puppy?

Ned and I have been together
for a very long time.

We're intimate, but

it's the appropriate human-canine
sort of intimacy.

- He doesn't respect you.
- He respects me.

Tell him to sit.

Sit.

Damn it, dog,
you better sit your ass down.

He don't want to sit.

Sit.

You have a very lovely home.
It feels lovely.

And it smells lovely.
Do you use an air purifier?

It helps with the dander.

How did you lose your sight?

I was cleaning out the kitty litter,
and I got cat sand in my eye.

Horrible infection. Very sad.

I know you're not blind.

Thank you. I felt awful doing that.

It was humiliating for both of us.

I looks like a pickle.

Doesn't he look like a pickle?

Do you always name
your animals after food?

I used to have
a horse named The Pie in another life.

That's cause I wanted to be like
Elizabeth Taylor. She was so pretty.

Then The Pie died.

I just lost my dog.

Bubblegum.

I was in shock after I lost my pie.

The horse, not the food.

Then one day I was walking along,

and I saw a bakery in the shape
of a giant pie.

The food, not the horse.

It was a sign.

I don't know what it said,
but it was there.

Are you suggesting
that I'll find the answers

to life and death
in a bubblegum machine?

Bubblegum's dead?

I was looking forward to surrounding her

in white light and positive energy.
I wasn't quite sure how to do that

but I thought at least,
I could dog-sit or

take her for a walk in the park.

You knew about Bubblegum?

Harold left a note.

Well, she was everything to Harold.

Well, we all were.

We were family,

my sister-wives and me.

You didn't mind...

Sharing?

It's not as if
he treated me like one of so many

buried bones he could dig up
from the yard whenever he saw fit?

I didn't mean to say it like that.

I wouldn't be alive
if it weren't for him.

Litterally?

I was exaggerating for dramatic effect,

but that's the way I felt
when we were together.

And if you feel something,
it's real.

How did Bubblegum die?

- I backed up over her.
- Didn't look where you were going?

I just found out my husband
was murdered, my panic to get

to the scene of the crime,
I forgot to check my rearview mirror.

Clearly it's not an affectionate
relationship.

We're... very affectionate.

It's just...

Ned's been having strange dreams lately.

His paws twitch, and he whimpers.
it'd be cute if it weren't so sad.

he may be experiencing
stress-related anxiety due to,

mating issues.

You're deflecting.

You're avoiding a deeper discussion

of Ned's mating issues.

Can't you see this is making Ned
uncomfortable?

Mr. Digby,
Ned's merely wrestling

with the natural anxieties
of an inexperienced stud.

He's had experience.
Some.

Mating isn't just for
the betterment of the breed.

It's for the betterment of the dog.

Passions, they never knew even
existed suddenly burst forth,

allowing discovery of their
true primal selves as they.

She was referring
to her late husband, not Digby.

Excuse me.

Heather Hundin took a moment
to mourn her husband, Harold,

and Digby and the pie maker
took a moment

to politely pretend not to notice.

Where were we?

Harold specialized in designer breeds,
like the jack-a-poo.

- Jack-a-what?
- The jack russell-poodle mix.

The coll-a-dor, the lab-russell.

It was a niche,
but it was Harold's niche.

And the apex of that niche,

was the creation of the perfect
new breed of dog

Harold Hundin named

Bubblegum.

So, Bubblegum
was a coll-a-dor-russell-a-poo.

The perfect hybrid of border
collie, labrador retriever,

Jack russell terrier, and poodle.

Smart, loyal, athletic, and...

hypoallergenic.

She's with Harold now.

Sounds like you gave
Harold a long leash.

I never held Harold's leash
or his anything else.

He wasn't my hound.
I wasn't his bitch.

He liked dogs.
I like dogs.

So, nothing going on between you two?

What we had was a trained response.

Humans and dogs are the same.

Supply the right cue...

And they respond accordingly.

The only cue we ever gave
each other was commercial.

So, you two just used each other.

Haven't you ever used someone
for commercial gain?

When was the last time
you saw Harold alive?

Right before he died.

I handed him his coffee,
and I kissed him goodbye.

The morning he died.

I gave him his coffee.

I gave him his morning coffee,

and it was the last I saw of him.

I said, "why don't you come
by for some coffee?"

we had some things to discuss.

So he came by.
We discussed those things.

He took his coffee to go,
and then he died.

My wife did it.
She had murder in her eyes.

And that murder was couture.

My wife gave him his morning coffee.

So did mine!

No wonder the guy can handle four wives.
The dude's caffeinated.

I don't it's think Healey,
she didn't give me that impression.

Did she gave him coffee?

She gave him his coffee,
kissed him good bye,

which is practically a confession,
but I don't think she did it.

There she is now, you can ask her.

That's her.
The little one.

Mr. Digby.

- Hi, Hallie!
- Hi, Chuck.

Sit.

How did you guys find us?

Just looked for the bakery
shaped like a giant pie.

The food, not the horse.

We understand Harold left a note.

Who said anything about a note?

I said about the note.

"Under," meaning "below."

"Cover," meaning "the radar," people.

What is so hard about that
to understand?

- Sorry.
- Who are you people?

We'll get to the particulars of that
once you get the one of this.

What do you put into Harold's coffee?

Soy.

- Heavy cream.
- I don't put cream in my coffee.

I use almond-flavored
coffee cream creamer.

The police wrestled little
Hallie Hundin to the ground.

To the ground, and she's small.

It was like a lion taking down
a baby zebra.

We were awful tourists sitting
safely in our camouflaged S.U.V.

watching the injustice.

"Injustice"?
They found cyanide in her coffee.

My wife, the baby zebra,
is obviously being set up.

She breeds helper puppies
for blind children.

I mean, she's no killer.

She's an angel.

Yeah, angel of death.

Kennel club didn't think
baby zebra was set up,

and neither did the police.

Hallie did look innocent.

I know that sounds silly
coming from a P.I...

Yes, it does.

But, as a baker of pies,
it's not silly at all.

I look at a pie baking,
I know if it's done or if it's not done.

I can't tell you how I know
or why, but I know.

It's truth from that dark,
deep-rooted place deep down inside.

Pie hole.

It's... for you.

As the pie maker
considered all of the truths

he was keeping buried
within his deep-rooted place

and far away from Chuck...

Yes, we do.

I certainly can.

Bye, now.

Emerson Cod considered
25,000 new reasons

to reopen the case.

We need to prove
Hallie Hundin was innocent.

Your conscience calls you
on the telephone?

Those blind kids
that Hallie gave her puppies to,

have put together a "free Hallie" fund.

We exonerate Hallie,
we collect a reward.

You're taking money from blind children?

I suppose I could pay my bills
with blind kids' smiles,

but their money is a lot easier.

Everybody's been really nice.

It's not at all like those
prison-exploitation films.

So, you don't need cigarettes or alcohol

or the right mosturizer
to use as currency?

Oh, no. That's my friend Theresa.

She says she runs the cellblock, so...

I'm protected.

She sleeps a lot for someone
who runs a cellblock.

I don't think it's been
an easy road for her.

Well, it'll be a lot easier road for you

once you help us find out
who killed Harold.

Hallie, was it Hilary,
Heather, or Simone?

It couldn't have been
any of my sister-wives.

We all loved Harold
too much to kill him.

Oh, no, it was one of your
sister-wives. Harold said so.

In his note.

If you ask me...

- Are you asking me?
- Yes.

It was Ramsfeld Snuppy.

He's another niche dog breeder,
but not as niche as Harold.

Snuppy wanted our Bubblegum.

Snuppy wanted
to collaborate with Harold

to make
coll-a-dor-russell-a-poo superpuppies,

but I think Snuppy wanted
all the doggy treats to himself.

He could have easily
planted the cyanide

in my almond-flavored
coffee cream creamer.

But murder?

For a few puppies?

Snuppy had big plans for her.

The facts were these:

One Ramsfeld Snuppy
was the son of a furniture liquidator

and shopping network hand model.

How much is that puppy in the window?

Well, she can be yours
for 12 easy payments of $129.95.

When he went from
a single storefront puppy shop

in Frognot, Texas,

to a nationwide
empire of Snuppy's puppies chain stores.

For Ramsfeld Snuppy,
money didn't grow on trees.

It was made in cages.

I was listening
to Heather Hundin's weekly radio show,

"doggonit," and she did the dog breeding
is a lot harder than you think.

- It looks easy enough.
- No, it's not.

There's all these hoops
the prospective mates

they have to jump through
to seef they're compatible. Like...

their smell and their tastes.

they even have their own
kind of doggy kissing.

A bit like people kissing.

- I thought you weren't gonna tell her.
- I didn't.

You didn't have to. Olive already did.

But for the record,
I'd have preferred to hear it from you.

I didn't tell
you because it didn't mean anything.

Lots of stuff happens in a day
that I don't bother sharing.

For instance, yesterday's
4 berry pie was actually 3 and a half

because I ran out of cranberries.

- I didn't tell you that.
- Actually, you did.

You asked if orange counted as a berry,

and I said no,
but no one had to know but us.

I like that you said "us."

Well, we are an "us," aren't we?

We're just an "us"
with special circumstances.

Why do I always have to be
around for this stuff?

Maybe we just have to embrace
the idea that sometimes...

Sometimes I might have to
hold someone else's hands

and you might have
to kiss somebody else's...

I don't want to kiss
anyone else's anything.

Maybe there's something to
this polygamy thing, you know? Maybe...

- one person isn't enough.
- What?

Hi folks!

Hi!

What can I do for you?

We hear you're the man to see
to get a coll-a-dor-russell-a-poo.

There's a waiting list, though.

We're a little behind on manufacturing.

Manufacturing?

Yeah, we had a little
reproductive setback

when the alpha dog got run over.

But that doesn't mean
there won't be a superhybrid pup

under every christmas tree this year.

How do you plan to breed a
bubble that's burst or run over,

as the case may be?

Son, why go through
all the hassle of breeding

when we can create the perfect
copy of man's best best friend

every time available exclusively
at a Snuppy's puppies near you?

I'm gonna clone Bubblegum...

from her remains.

All I got to do is find
some viable DNAs,

fuse them
into some denucleated egg cells,

and plant the eggs in surrogate dogs

in all my nationwide stores,
and woof woof woof.

More litters of identical
coll-a-dor-russell-a-poos

than you can count.

But Bubblegum wasn't your dog!

Well, she wasn't.

Are you the Hundin lawyers?

We are friends of the Hundin lawyers.

They saw the contract.
They know the whole deal.

I own Bubblegum dead or alive.

Harold sold you Bubblegum?

I guess his wive's wish,
it's probably why they wanted him dead.

But the ink was dry
before Hallie got to him.

I got what was coming to me.

Someone I need to see.

You knew Harold
was gonna sell Bubblegum to Snuppy,

yet you neglected to mention
it in our previous conversation.

And you think that gave me
enough motive to kill my husband?

- That's exactly what I think.
- You think wrong.

- I didn't kill Harold.
- Hallie thinks Snuppy did it.

Hallie would fetch a ball
in traffic if asked,

but in this case,
she isn't necessarely wrong.

Keep talking.

When Harold came to us with his plan,

we threatened to get an injunction
as partners in the business.

That would have held up
Snuppy's plans for years,

so we killed Harold
and framed Hallie.

That's one theory.

Another one is, when you heard
about Harold and his plan,

you put an injunction
in the blood flow to his heart.

Do I seem capable
of that kind of aggression?

Well, you never know
what the body's capable of until you...

- mess with their kibble.
- So don't mess.

If he has paid attention while awake,

Emerson Cod would have
found the evidence

pointing toward Simone
Hundin's guilt.

Feeling sonmething was amiss
at the K-18 dog studio,

Emerson Cod's subconscious
mind put it together

before his conscious mind could.

Someone or some dog

was using Bubblegum's collar.

Emerson Cod's dreams had gifted
him the collar as a clue.

He knew Bubblegum was alive

and that Harold Hundin's killer
was indeed still on the loose.

But worse...

he feared he was falling for her.

That dog is alive.

Alive or alive again?

There never have been
dead kind of alive.

All this from a dream?

I thought they were
just your brain trying

to process random rigmarole
it couldn't find a place for.

Sometimes in that random
rigmarole, there's a clue.

I'm gonna shake down Simone.
I'm gonna find that dog.

If you shake Simone
and the dog falls out...

Then she's the killer.

Fearing being alone
with the girl he kissed but did not love

and the girl he loved
but could not kiss,

- the pie maker decided...
- I'll come with you.

This is a solo shaking.

- Hi.
- Hello. Olive.

I know things have gotten
a smidge awkward since the wh...

Awkward? This isn't awkward.

It was just a kiss, and I don't
even think our saliva was compatible,

so there's no reason to discuss
and make something that isn't awkward...

awkward.

Olive pondered the black mark
on her relationship with the pie maker

she feared was inked
with a permanent marker.

I really screwed the pooch, didn't I?

Your order for Pickle came in.

That order was placed
under false pretenses.

Fortunately your credit card was real.

Well, happy birthday to Digby

and congratulations
to you, too, I suppose.

- For what?
- I heard about the plans

for cloning Bubblegum.

Guess you'll be getting your
baby back after all, in a way.

Snuppy can clone Bubblegum?

It has to do with DNA and nucleuses.

Well, I was never very good
at science, but yay.

Yay!

At the K-18 Obedience center,

Emerson Cod believed
he had found the real killer.

Why is it Bubblegum's collar moves
every time I come over here?

I'm thinking it's because
you can't walk a dog without a collar.

And guess what else.

You can't walk a dead dog.

So I'm only gonna ask you this once.

Where's Bubblegum?

You've got me. I've got her.

And I knew if you knew I had her,

you'd assume
I killed Harold to keep her.

Quick at the end, not to be a little
more than just an assumption.

I can only say I didn't kill
my husband so many times,

but for good measure,
I didn't kill my husband.

You can say it all you want.
I stopped listening.

The only thing I want to hear is
the clickety-clack of Bubblegum's paws

on the floor as you bring
exhibit "a" on out here.

You seem more concerned
about Bubblegum than...

who killed Harold.

Stop playing
and go show me that superdog.

It's time for her walk anyway.
I'll go and fetch my coat.

Grab her collar from
the pedestal there.

Okay.

Simone Hundin had been
subconsciously training Emerson Cod,

who had a strong desire
to do as she commanded.

Bubblegum, heel.

This will go a lot easier
if you cooperate.

Who the hell you think you playing?

I'm asking the questions.

How long have you been
working for Snuppy?

I don't work for Snuppy. A bunch
of blind kids with too much money

paid me to exonerate
your sister-wife Hallie.

I don't believe you.

I think he hired you to see
if I faked Bubblegum's death.

Well, why would he do that?

- 'Cause he can't clone a dead dog.
- Yeah, he can.

You gave him everything he need
when you handed him Bubblegum's ashes.

Only they weren't
Bubblegum's ashes, were they?

Bubblegum, go hide.

If you'll excuse me, I have
some leftover business to handle.

- and a funeral to attend.
- As long as it's not mine, I'm cool.

That remains to be seen.

Emerson Cod's hatred of the dark
began after a childhood prank

in which he was locked
in a washing machine for two nights.

Finding himself similarly trapped,
his adrenaline level skyrocketed

to a height in which near
superhuman strength was achieved.

Yeah!

Yeah, that's gonna bruise.

Hey!

My wife is gonna kill Ramsfeld Snuppy.

She's not my wife.

Simone, the wife at... you know
what the hell I'm saying. Come on!

- Don't think it's almond latte.
- You think it might be cyanide?

Why can't it just be simple, easy?

He says, "my wife".

How hard could that possibly be?

Hallie didn't do it. She's behind bars.

It must have been Simone.

It might not be Simone.

Simone was hiding Bubblegum.

She chloroformed you and tied you up.

I'm not even gonna mention the ball gag.

That's gangster love.

See? That's what's rubbing me.

If she was gangster, she'd have
busted a cyanide cap in my ass

the minute I sniffed out
her dog, but she didn't.

Why don't we just ask him?

Wait, wait, wait! Stop.

We're about to take another trip
down pointless creek.

Okay, maybe Simone did it.
Maybe she didn't.

But Harold never saw who slipped
that poison into his coffee.

And Snuppy probably didn't either.

People are like dogs.

They run when they're guilty.

And Emerson Cod had a plan

for how to get
their "guilty dog" to run.

All right, let's get him ready.

Here.

One last touch...

without touching him.

Would you prop him up?
He look like a wino on new year's.

Digby, stay.

- Get out of the way.
- Excuse me.

Sit.

And now, Harold's sweet wives

would each like to say a few words.

Harold was...

- one of a kind.
- Kind-hearted...

- sweet.
- Sweet smile.

Full of the endless love...

- of championing...
- Champions.

He was at the forefront of the breeding
world and forefront of our lives.

He will be dearly missed by all.

All right, on my mark.

Mark.

That means now.

This wouldn't be my funeral, would it?

You're supposed to be dead.

You got a mint? I got
the nastiest taste in my mo...

- Can you take care of that?
- Yeah.

Thanks.

Sic her, boys!

The facts were these...

When Hilary became
Harold Hundin's one and only,

she thought she had the dream life.
But...

adding three more "one and onlys"
was Harold's idea of a dream life.

She found new satisfaction
as her pentagonal union

produced the world's
most perfect dog, Bubblegum,

who was truly one of a kind
and the child she had always wanted.

But Harold Hundin had other
plans for Bubblegum.

She would be brought
to living rooms everywhere

via the nationwide chain
of Snuppy's puppies.

Everyone, he believed,
deserved to have man's best best friend.

However, when he told
his first wife, Hilary,

of his plans to clone their prized pup,

her reaction was anything but perfect.

He had made his decision,
Harold told her.

Bubblegum would be
the canine of the future.

So Hilary made her own decision.

Refusing to subject her baby

to the same torturous shared existence
she had been cursed to live,

Hilary poisoned Harold

and framed Hallie to take any fall.

Knowing good Hallie served
but did not drink caffeine herself.

Careful, sweetie. It's hot.

But what the Hundin wives learned
upon their husband's death

was that Harold had already
signed the contract.

Snuppy owned Bubblegum...

dead or alive.

Snuppy can clone Bubblegum?

For Hilary, hearing from Olive
that Snuppy could clone the child

she thought deceased
was too much to bear.

Over his dead body, Bubblegum
would remain unique at all costs.

What Hilary did not know

was her multiple murders
were for naught,

as sister-wife Simone had secretly faked
Bubblegum's death the same morning

Hilary took it upon herself
to poison their husband.

If you knew you weren't guilty,
why did you act like someone who was?

To protect Bubblegum.

The only way to kill his deal
with Snuppy was to kill her.

So you faked her death.

But Snuppy threw you a curve ball
when he showed you that contract

that said that Bubblegum
was his, dead or alive.

That was a surprise.

I didn't know he could clone a dead dog.

But I'm sure he was surprised

when he discovered
the ashes I turned over were nothing

but a rat Bubblegum had caught.

Slick.

You don't know slick.

I wish I felt more heroic
tackling a woman half my size.

You brought her down.
She was your baby zebra.

Or maybe she was the lion who
had the baby zebra in her maw,

and you were the crocodile
that came from nowhere.

I don't like the idea
of being a crocodile,

but I guess so long
as the baby zebra got away.

I'm gonna hug Digby
and pretend that he's you.

The pie maker was saddened
that Chuck could hold Digby

while he had no one,

- save the waitress.
- See you tomorrow.

Who he now realized
he did not want to hold.

Not in that way.

Still here.

I'm sorry I've been avoiding you,

and I'm sorry I said
our saliva wasn't compatible.

I'm a big girl. I'll be okay.

I know you will.

Will you?

How will you ever...

know if your saliva's compatible
unless you kiss her kiss her?

I already know. I think I know.

No, I know or I will know.

Just takes time.

Time can take forever.

I hope you and Chuck make it work.

I really do.

And if you can't,

I hope it doesn't take forever
to figure that out.

I just want you to be happy.

And Olive did.

Though she was not yet ready
to let go of the hope

that her perfect pie maker's
perfect happiness might lie with her.

Night.

Yeah.

As the pie maker pondered
the hand that he just held,

he began to understand the many
different forms love could take,

each one precious in its own way.

Thanks.

Though some...

were more unique than others.

You're the only one for me.

I know you feel that now, but...

there are things you want.

- There are things we both want.
- So? Everyone wants stuff.

We wake up every day with
a list of wishes a mile long,

and maybe we spend our lives
trying those wishes come true. But...

just because we want them
doesn't mean we need them to be happy.

What do you need to be happy?

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