Original subtitles

-♪ ♪ -(water splashing)

(vacuum whirring)

(both sigh)

♪ Tuca and Bertie and Tuca and Bertie and Bertie and Tuca ♪

♪ And Tuca and Bertie, Tuca and Bertie ♪

♪ Tu-Tu-Tuca ♪

-♪ Tuca ♪ -♪ And Bertie. ♪

(vocalizing)

-(beeps) -Anti-cramp pills for Tuca.

-(groans) -Hmm.

Your prescription has expired, so you'll have to visit a doctor

to confirm you have a thing you already know you have.

But I'm in pain now! Look at my face.

(sobbing)

Sorry, can't do anything without a fresh, ripe prescription.

Whatever, I'm not going

all the way to the hospital for that.

Okay, have a happy Fledging Day.

Have you called your mother yet to thank her for fledging you?

Nope, she's dead, but fledge you for asking.

That's right, it's a day-ruiner.

Now you feel as shitty as I do. Kablam!

-(grunting rhythmically) -Hmm.

(chewing noises)

(sighs) Oh!

I know what'll make me feel better:

buying some crap I don't need.

(groans) Moms don't want balloons.

They just want their autonomy back.

Get out of here.

Ooh! Flowers always make me happy.

-(clamoring) -Let go!

-I need these for my mom. -Let go.

My mother needs flowers!

Without today's blossoms...

(deep voice): Mater will perish, so says the curse.

Damn it! Is anything in this store

not about this stupid holiday?

Don't worry, tomorrow this will all be on sale,

and we'll start selling Cadaveri candy.

Cadaveri candy?

It's only Eggprill. What's next?

Selling Molting Day gifts in the month of Jam?

I'll help you clean after I finish this job application.

Hey, what's the etiquette on using a boss as a reference

after you told them to go snorkeling in your turds?

-Uh... -Damn this holiday.

What kind of sick society celebrates motherhood?

Tuca, I told you not to shop for Mylar balloons today.

(belches)

My mom will be here any minute. You could join us.

Oh, yeah, it could be fun. Please!

Nice try, Bertie. I'm not gonna be the buffer

for your awkward mom hang.

Even though your mom lo-lo-lo-lo-loves me.

Fine, but I've got a plan for a smooth Fledging Day.

We'll get a quick lunch, quick mani-pedis,

and if we run out of stuff to talk about,

I'll switch to the fail-safe:

shit-talking my mom's nutty neighbor.

We'll rip her to shreds like two lionesses devouring a gazelle.

Our conversation will flow like blood.

I feel like you've mentioned you'd like to have

a deeper connection with her.

Why don't you ask your mom some questions about herself?

-Get her to open up. -Ooh!

Ask her what her biggest disappointment is,

and if she doesn't answer, you'll know that it's you.

No. The more we avoid feelings, the better.

This woman does not experience emotions the same way we do.

Look how she texts.

I wrote, "I love you, Mom!

And then, two whole days later, she responded,

"There is a sale on pants."

What pants? For me, for you?

I'm only interested in a pants sale

if they're half off. Get it? They're shorts.

(laughing)

(laughing): Even for me, that's a good one.

Shorts. Whew.

-(sighs) -(knocking)

Hi, Mom, here, ooh, let me take that.

Hi. I brought a bunch of your things.

Ew! My childhood mementos. Take it back, take it back!

-All right, I'll just throw them away. -No!

They are precious to me,

but only when they're in my childhood bedroom.

They depreciate the moment you drive them off the lot!

Well, we needed to clear space so we can use it for storage.

Mom, your house is piled with clutter.

The last thing you need is to store more junk.

Tuca, I heard about your health issues.

I brought you some tea.

It's supposed to help with cramps.

Ooh! Is that ginger? It's already working.

Thanks, Anna!

Could I get some of that specialty?

I get cramps, too.

Because you eat too many spicy chips.

-(Bertie grunts) -(chewing)

(laughing)

Aw!

(laughter)

BERTIE: Hmm.

Uh, would you take a picture of me and my wonderful daughter

who I am very proud of?

I'm the one who's so proud

of the super emotionally available woman who fledged me.

-Say "healthy relationship." -BOTH: Healthy relationship.

-(phone camera clicks) -Oh! Here.

-Aw! -Aw, isn't that nice?

-Gosh, we're so happy. -(groans)

So, how's that nutty neighbor of yours doing?

Is she still keeping her Molting Day lights up

all year round, like a wild animal?

Actually, Carlotta and I are friends now.

We bonded because we both have adult daughters

who are unmarried.

Oh, well, uh, how's your garden?

My tomato plant died, so I stopped gardening.

(regurgitating)

-OTHERS: Aw! -(groans in disgust)

And would you like to take part in the regurgitation ritual,

to thank your mom for all the times

she regurgitated for you when you were a baby?

We have a special Fledging Day menu

that includes a regurgitation cake.

-Uh... -Um...

No, thank you. We'll just be gurgitating today.

Very good. Two non-barf meals coming right up.

Hmm.

(regurgitating noisily)

♪ ♪

What boring porn site are you on?

Oh, actually, I'm updating my website and my résumé.

Speckle, no!

Due to budgetary cuts, we can't afford computers for the school.

-Ho! -(gasping)

-(cheering, gasping) -(gasps) Darn.

Aw, man, I use that for work!

-And for looking at boring porn. -Stop trying to be productive.

This period, right after you get canned,

is a beautiful, magical time

where nothing matters and you can be

a thick, warm loaf of laziness.

Take it from me, a bird who's been fired from over 50 jobs.

I don't know how not to be productive.

Look, I even made a vision board.

See? This is me, but I have a job.

And here are some waterfalls that I thought looked pretty.

-Uh-- Dang it. -Speckle,

you're gonna be my project today.

I'm projecting.

During this special period of unemployment,

your body will be changing,

emitting new scents, growing hair in new areas.

(sniffs) Oh.

-You'll have wild mood swings. -No, I won't!

You'll tell people to get off your case.

Actually, you are standing on my briefcase.

And you'll experience strange new urges.

(gasps) Should I go to grad school?

No notes.

I'm your loaf coach, and it's time to slob you up.

♪ ♪

My masterpiece is complete.

BERTIE: Look, Mom!

Here's what I've been working on at WinterSnacks.

So, you don't run your own bakery anymore?

No, I closed it. Remember?

But it's great.

I've had all these successes

since joining Winter's company.

I made a salad that's bad for you.

Hmm.

Look, check out these ingredients.

"Trace amounts of blueberry extract."

Yeah, that-that's me! I did that.

Winter agreed with my opinion that it adds a little something.

So, anyways, if you eat this,

you're eating something I worked on.

Well, I wouldn't eat it.

It has a high glycemic index.

(groans)

What about all those cute little bird pastries you used to sell?

Mom, I tried having my own bakery, but I wasn't ready.

It's a relief to not be the public face of something.

Here, look at all these mean comments

WinterSnacks gets online.

See? None of this is directed at me.

Nobody cares who I am, and it's great.

I don't have to take out loans,

or worry about inspections or insurance

or whether my employees hate me

or are projecting weird mommy issues onto me.

I can just bake.

Well, I just don't see what you get out of it.

(groans)

Bertie, you should make these.

Mom, that food already exists.

I don't need to make it.

I bet the mother of whoever made it

is very proud.

Yeah, Mom. I'm sure they are.

(screams)

Great lazing in there, Specko.

You look completely worthless.

Oh, you think that's good?

Watch this.

I don't even have to use my hands.

I was wrong. You're not worthless.

-You're a delicious picante dip. -Thanks.

What are you gonna do, Speckle?

(groaning): I'm so tired.

Bravo! Excellent work.

So, what do I do now?

Now you invest too much money in a bunch of hobbies

that you'll never keep up with.

Here, find some stupid activities

to get you overly invested in.

Ooh, they have the architecture pen I've been looking for.

It's a normal pen, but it says "Architecture rules" on it.

(chuckles) All the pros have one.

No work. Hobbies only.

Now put in your credit card and get the instant delivery.

You need it now, Speckle.

Your very self-worth depends on it.

(groaning)

Here's your order. I'm so sorry I'm late.

Happy Fledging Day.

What did you get? A skateboard,

a classic guitar, a how to learn Spanish series.

And is that a jujitsu gi?

-Yes. -Excellent work.

WOMAN: Hey, where's my delivery?

I'm coming! Coming!

(panting, grunting)

-(screaming) -(thuds)

No, no, no, no, no. You must never practice

any of these hobbies.

Only buy increasingly expensive

accessories and upgrades for them.

But I enjoy doing things,

and I still need something to define me.

What am I? A guitarist, a skateboarder?

Someone who fights people in a robe? (cries)

I miss when my whole deal was just being an architect.

-Speckle. -Ow!

You need to learn that a job is just a job.

It can't define you, and it'll never love you back.

No matter how good of a job it is.

I have a great job, and you think I give a shit?

I'm supposed to be there right now.

And to your left you'll see the bank

where I opened a joint checking account

with my pet jaguar.

(screaming)

You think I'm worried about it?

Nothing bothers me.

-Ouch! -Uh, you okay, Tuca?

I'm fine. I'm gonna go sit on my fire escape

and hit people with water balloons full of soup.

-It helps distract me from the pain. -Okay.

Your job is to stay put, stay lazy and remember:

these hobbies are for you to feel guilty about.

No touching.

-Ow! -Uh-uh.

Bertie, here's a job opportunity.

One of your dad's coworker's cousins says

they need a cook for her kid's day care.

You'd have to put peanut butter on the celery.

You can do that, right?

Mom, I already have a job.

I work for chef Winter Garcia.

At least at a day care, everyone would know

you made the food, unlike with Winter.

I like working for Winter.

Well, what's so great about a woman

who can't even come up with her own pastry ideas?

Well, hmm, just for starters, she's a fierce,

shrewd, independent business owner.

She's emotionally intelligent, communicative.

Plus, she's really organized, tidy.

She's a great role model.

She's become a real mother figure to me.

-Oh. -I mean, uh...

She's a fine non-mommy boss.

It's a decent workplace. Wow, here we are at the spa.

Time to get mani-pedis.

Healthy mother-daughter activity.

(entry bell chimes)

Two mani-pedis, please.

This is a bathhouse.

We don't mani any pedis here,

but we can scrub all the dead feathers

off your body while you wince in pain.

Oh, no, this spot isn't for hands and feet.

This is for butts and boobs!

-(heart thumping fast) -What should we do? Should we leave?

I-It might not be your thing.

It can be my thing if you want it to.

I can do whatever. I'm open and communicative.

Besides, it's a "buy one, get one" deal.

-How could I refuse a BOGO? -Okay.

Then we're doing this.

Not too late to say no.

Here's everything you need and please sign this waiver.

In case of a fire, you agree

you'll have to run barebutt into the street.

No returning to the lockers for belongings or clothes.

-Barebutt. -Uh...

♪ ♪

(sighs)

Mom, you can take that off.

It's not a big deal. Everyone else is nude.

It's just that you haven't seen my body in a long time,

and it's different now.

Mom, it's okay.

(chirping)

(ladies laugh)

Uh, did you say "grandchildren"?

Cheep-cheepity chirp chirp.

(laughs)

What the...? Uh, that is not what I meant to say.

(Anna and ladies laugh)

(sighs)

-SKATEBOARD: Yo, yo, Specks! -Oh, shit!

SKATEBOARD: You should totally ride me right now.

Your 30s is the best time to learn a sport for teenagers.

Dang, I'm already overestimating how cool I would look.

No, Tuca said I can't touch you.

-GUITAR: Hey, Specks. -(chords strumming)

Why don't you learn a quick chord progression, huh?

You can take me to parties. You'll be a living jukebox.

-(twangs) -(moans)

No practicing.

-I promised Tu... -BOOK: Ábreme.

Aprende de mi.

Uh, what does that mean?

BOOK: Exactamente.

Buenos días.

BOOK: Sí. Sí, Señor Speckle.

(Spanish accent): Oh, no.

♪ ♪

(sighs) This is so nice.

You like this adult ball pit?

-You're having a good time? -Yes. Are you?

I actually am. You know, we should do this more often.

Make this our Fledging Day tradition, huh?

Just tossing an idea out there.

Feel free to shoot it down.

Then maybe one Fledging Day,

your daughter will take you here.

Okay.

Mom, about that.

I'm not planning on having a daughter

or a son or any kids at all.

(sobbing)

Oh, my God, Mom. You can't do that in here.

It disintegrates the balls.

You're not having kids?

Ugh, I knew this would happen.

I'm just so happy for you.

I'm really glad you know what you want.

What? So you're not mad

that you'll never be a grandma and you'll never get

to pinch cheeks and knit sweaters

and palm your grandkids a wad of cash and wink,

but then when they look at it, it's, like, two bucks?

Of course not, Bertie.

I'm just always so worried about you,

and I want you to have everything

and fly so far.

But I had a whole life before you,

and sometimes I wonder.

You see, I was really hot, Bertie.

I had a great ass.

-Oh, my God. -And I love your father so much,

but he isn't very romantic,

and his ass is a five at best.

-Whoa. -And an ex-flame of mine

wants to meet me for drinks in Bird Town tonight.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

And I don't know what to do.

It would be nice to see him and catch up,

and maybe he'd pay attention to me

and compliment me a little. That's all I want.

But I'm just so confused.

(sobbing)

Mom, you can meet him for a drink.

It's not a big deal. It's just a drink.

You have to live a little.

Really? I don't even know what to say to him.

I can help you. Ooh! I'll be your flirt coach.

-Could Tuca come? -No.

(Tuca laughing)

(groans)

(grunting)

There you go, sweetie. Got to buckle up for Mommy.

Let's keep you nice and safe.

(Tuca groans loudly)

Huh?

Goddamn it!

SPECKLE: ♪ Hola, mi amor ♪

♪ ¿Tienes algo de mostaza? ♪

♪ Me llamo Speckle ♪

♪ Esa es mi casa ♪

♪ Bicicleta ♪

♪ Biblioteca ♪

♪ Mochila, mochila, mochila. ♪

-(cheering and applause) -Boo!

At least you still don't know jujitsu!

Yeah, you suck!

(Speckle grunting)

(grunts, chokes)

Well done. Nice anaconda hold.

What the heck? You're the worst layabout ever.

And the worst at following my advice.

And you're excellent at Spanish.

Gracias.

(speaking Spanish)

-What does that mean? -Oh, I have no idea.

I-I'm sorry, Tuca. I can't help it.

My parents raised me to be industrious

and productive above all else.

Well, I was brought up to lounge and loiter.

My mom was so busy working all the time to support us

that I was left alone.

-A total latchtree kid. -Oh.

Then she died, and everything was such a mess.

What good was all of her hard work anyways?

(crying): What good was any of it

if it didn't even save her life?

And what good are my stupid pain pills

if I'm gonna feel worse every month?

My mom's dead, I'll always be in pain,

and nothing matters. Who cares?!

Tuca, I care.

♪ Tu eres importante ♪

♪ Para mi. ♪

(grunts) Perdóname.

(whispering): Okay, Mom. I came up with a great plan.

Pay close attention, okay?

Listen up. I'm gonna sit here,

and I'm gonna tell you what to say to him.

-Good plan. -(door opens, bell jingles)

Oh! He's here.

It's okay. Just say what I say.

Hello...

I already forgot his name.

-Hello, Alfred. -Anna.

-(kisses) -Oh, good, good.

And now maybe something flirty,

like, "Oh, a fox in the henhouse."

Or... No, no, no, no, wait.

Maybe, "What is a fox like you doing in a henhouse like..."

Anna, I'm dying.

-(gasps) -(gasps)

(whispers): What do I say?

Tell him not to. Tell him not to!

Look, Anna, there's something I never got to say to you

all those years ago before you married Henry.

Will you let me do you in the ass?

-(screams) -Whoa!

-No. -Please, Anna. Before I die.

-(screams) -Wait.

Is that your daughter in the next booth?

Uh, no. I'm a stray dog. (barks)

-Abort mission. -Anna,

I'm too horny to care

that your adult daughter is watching this.

You're my last hope, Anna.

Grant a dying man his deathbed ass wish.

Ew! Mom, make him stop!

I don't know how. He's become so much hornier

now that he's aged 40 years.

Yes, I have. Like a cheese.

Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!

I'll never stop thinking about your juicy butt-meat.

I want to stick a quarter in your butthole

and treat you like a parking meter, Anna.

-Oh, my God! -Even when I'm a ghost,

-I'll be haunting your ass. -BERTIE: Wait.

I know what to do. Mom, look at me.

Oh. I see you're celebrating Fledging Day.

I apologize. There's nothing more beautiful

than a love between a mother and daughter,

not even ass sex.

Don't worry about me. I'll just go home

and pray that the angels in heaven

have cheeks half as tight as yours.

That is so beautiful.

Here's your prescription. It'll run out in a month,

and then it'll be even more difficult to renew.

We'll put the prescription up really high,

and you'll have to climb a ladder,

and each time you reach for it,

we'll yank, yank, yank.

(chuckles) It's a standard procedure.

(Tuca sighs)

FIGGY: Hey, Sweetie-Tooks.

-Figgy? -It's nice to see you.

What are you doing here?

I actually... I have root rot.

Oh! Are you okay?

Yeah, I'll live. This should dry out in a month.

But I can't drink anything in the meantime.

I-I've actually been wanting to ask you for advice

on how not to go crazy while staying sober.

Nah, you won't go crazy.

I've got lots of good ideas.

Not that you should care. It's only a month.

Then I'll revert back to my old habits,

so none of this really matters.

It does matter!

And it's really selfish of you to not take care of yourself.

-Hmm, hmm, hmm! -(Figgy sighs)

-Hmm! -(phone chimes)

(both laughing)

It was so gross.

Yeah, but it was kind of nice for once

having a man look at my ass and think, "Ayooga!"

-Ew, Mom! (chuckles) -(laughs)

Well, I guess I'd better head back home to your father.

Yeah.

Can I keep one?

Of course you can.

-I'm gonna put this in your room. -Uh, okay, Mom.

But they're only shelf-stable for a few months.

I'm saving it.

Thanks, Mom. Love you.

Mmm.

(sighs)

-BOOK: Hola, señorita. -(screams) What the...?!

("Carnaval Artificial" by Random Recipe playing)

(singing in Spanish)

(grunting)

(sighs) It's just not the same.

(dogs barking)