Original subtitles

Dad, wake up.

- Get away. Fuck off. - Come on. The cake's ready.

I need you to go pick it up. And what time is the clown gonna be here?

- Dad! - Whoa, what the fuck's going on here?

What... Where am I?

Why was I just drempting about a fucking clown trying to bang me?

Jesus Christ, Dad. That was me.

You were supposed to pick up the cake and clown for Mo's birthday.

What are you talking about? Today? We just had Mo's birthday.

Uh, yeah, a year ago today.

Fuck off. That was a year ago?

Fuck, goddamn. Fucking piss shitting out of my ass.

Fucking piss jug's... Cock... Fuck!

I can't believe you forgot.

I've reminded you every single night this week.

But I've been drunk and high every single night,

so technically it isn't my fault.

I can't believe you.

Trin, come here. Take it easy.

I'm just kidding, sweetie. I didn't mean to make you cry.

Of course I remembered his birthday. Fuck.

Look, I mean, I've got him a present. Where...

Right here. Look at this fucking thing. Mo loves these monster fucking thingies.

Think you can wrap this up nice for me, sweetie?

Mo's really looking forward to this day, Dad.

That's great. I'm glad he is.

'Cause I've got this totally under control, okay?

Me and the boys are gonna grab the stuff right now.

Get the clown, the cake.

- Even gonna have a fucking petting zoo. - Grampy!

Happy birthday, little buddy.

Ew! You smell like the Porta Potty at the park.

That's 'cause Grampy spilled piss all over him this morning,

- so you better not hug me. - Sarah told Mom

that she wishes you were in jail for my birthday again.

She said you're gonna fuck everything up today.

Really? Well, guess what?

Number one, Sarah can fuck off and suck my cock.

- Dad! - Sorry. And you know what I mean.

And number two, or whatever the fuck it was,

Grampy loves you more than hash, more than weed, trees, fucking space,

all those moon planets and everything else flying around up there.

I promise you, this is gonna be the best birthday

you could've ever gotten had.

I love you so much, Grampy. Even when you smell like a dirty hobo.

Thanks, buddy.

- Julian, can you help me with this? - Sure, man. What the fuck are you doing?

Just, can you hold the helmets until I get the camera in position?

- Try to hide your hands. - Okay.

Okay, here we go. We are recording.

For fuck's sake, abort.

Astronaut Kitty Lovell,

just stay in the goddamn cockpit, would you?

Bubs, man, chill out.

Like, what are you trying to do here anyway?

Here, I'll show you what I'm fucking doing.

See that video? Thirty million views.

Yeah, so what?

So what? This mediocre, less-than-impressive shit video,

it made this guy almost 100 grand.

A hundred grand! Are you fucking kidding me?

No, I'm not fucking kidding you.

Viral videos are making big money, Julian,

and kitty videos are the hottest thing on the internet.

It's just too bad these guys don't understand

the importance of the mission.

Soon as I mention how much money viral videos could make on the internet,

you could literally see the dollar signs

lighting up in Julian's eyes like fucking fireworks.

I actually timed him, and it took less than three minutes

for him to get the grease wheels in motion.

You sure about this, dude?

Yeah, man. This is totally cool. Nobody's ever done this before.

You're gonna be a fucking internet sensation, buddy.

Okay, ready? Action.

Mary Magdalene's milkers! Cory, stop!

Bubbles, what the fuck did you do that for?

Oh, thank fuck.

You're lucky this is only latex he's drinking.

Julian, if this was oil-based, he would've destroyed

his entire digestive tract andmicrobiome.

He would've died a slow, painful death right here.

Yeah, no shit. I'm not an idiot, Bubs.

Thanks for ruining my video, man.

Cory, go grab another can of fucking paint.

Hey, I'm sorry, dude.

I'll go get some. But I don't think there's any more blue.

The color doesn't matter. Hurry up!

Boys, I need your help.

I called every clown I could find in the phone book,

and there's none available.

I've got nothing done for Mo's birthday, and I'm about to grow a gasket.

Would you settle the fuck down?

Look, I'm in over my head here. If I don't get a clown right the fuck now,

- Mo's birthday's gonna be ruined. - Just... Ricky, take a deep breath.

Pump the brakes.

What about the clown that hangs around out front of Frudy's hair salon?

Bet you we could rent that shit-smelling, drunk bastard for a few hours.

Yeah, man. Good fucking idea.

Bubbles, you may have just saved my gold-plated cock.

Jesus Murphy, Ricky.

Are you washing your clothes in the toilet again?

No, man. I haven't done that in years.

I spilled a half gallon of piss all over myself.

Jacob, grab an ounce of weed out of the freezer,

take it down to The Dawgfather and trade it for some hot dogs.

- You got it? - Yeah, piece of cake.

No, not the fucking cake. We're picking up the cake.

Hot dogs. Fuck, you're stupid.

We're on it, dude.

Fuck off with the hand. I'm serious. Get it the fuck out of my face.

It's never gonna happen. It's been 20 fucking years. Fuck off.

Ricky, yo. Did you say you got weed, motherfucker?

Yeah, I do have weed.

Do you know where I can get non-bitey animals that kids like?

Did you say animals, cracker?

Get it, boys, you get it? Animal the cracker? Animal cracker.

Nah, that shit was weak. What's wrong with you?

You stupid-ass motherfucking cracker.

Shut the fuck up, man. Go wait in the car and roll some joints.

Boys, here's the deal.

You guys get me some fucking animals for a petty-zooey-type thing,

and my last bag of OG Kush, it's fucking yours.

Fuck, word. On it like chronic, homeboy.

But, Rick, are you fucking washing your clothes in the fucking toilet?

You fucking smell like piss, man.

Yeah, your old ladypissed on me. That's why.

All right, boys, shit's coming together here.

Let's go talk to this clown. See if the fucker can help us out.

Okay, get in the car, you weird-looking fuck.

- What the fuck are you doing? - I'm doing what I fucking need to.

I don't have any money or fucking weed left. We're taking him.

Ricky, I have money, for Christ's sakes.

Sorry about that, Mr. Clown, sir.

We're actually looking to hire you for a kid's party for a couple hours.

Sorry, asshole. I don't do parties.

I'm not really a clown.

The fuck do you mean? Look, you got a fucking clown suit on,

big fucking shoes, stupid hair, and a big red nose.

You're a fucking clown. Get in the car now!

I'm just a drunk who works for free liquor and haircutsto steer customers...

- Get in there! - You're hurting me.

Hey, what's going on here? You're scaring away my customers.

Frudy, just borrowing your clown for a couple hours.

Oh, the fuck you are. He's my clown. Get your hands off him.

You fucking calm down, Frudy. I just need him for a little...

Fucking Moses' milky fucking tits! I think I just blew my big toe off!

Think you can give me a hand here, Julian? Put the phone down!

Ricky, you gotta spin your faces around to the camera.

- I can't catch you. - Put the fucking phone down!

Turn that off.

Look, I'll have 50 dollars for you when we bring him back, Frudy.

And I'm gonna get one of your seven-dollar shampoo and cuts.

Big tip, too. Please don't call the cops.

Whoa.

What the fuck is happening to me, dude?

It's like the more we walk, the more blue dots come out.

I'm not a doctor, but I think you're sweating out the paint you drank.

Oh, no way.

Dude, that's kinda dope.

Totally, man. You look like a leopard.

I mean, if it didn't have big teeth and hair, and it had blue dots.

What?

Are you sure this guy's gonna trade food for weed?

Yeah, totally, dude. I've seen Ricky trade weed,

cough syrup, hockey cards, skin mags, fresh corn on the cob,

a tire, a park bench, man.

This guy will trade anything

for his hot dogs, dude. Dude's name is The Dawgfather.

I think he's like in the Mafia, dude, and he loves me.

Hey, Dawgfather. What's up, my brother?

How many dogs, you weird little fuck?

- All of them? - No can do, E.T.

It's almost lunch rush. I have regulars.

Please, Mr. Dawg. It's like 911, dude.

Yeah, they're for my son's birthday party. We're getting a clown, too.

Follow me, dickheads.

Well, I think this could be our retirement, boys.

Bubs, can you upload this fucking thing? I can't figure it out.

Julian, are you fucked?

You want to upload a video that clearly shows the three of us

kidnapping an alcoholic clown at gunpoint, do you?

Yeah, I do.

Ricky, if you wanna be known as the guy getting beat up

by a gay, Brazilian-jiujitsu fucking hairdresser, you have at it, bud.

Just blur out the faces, then.

Blur out the faces? Yeah, okay. Yeah, actually, give me the phone.

- Here, I'll blur out the fucking faces. - Thank you.

Delete. There you go.

- She's fucking blurred now, baby. - You didn't just delete that, Bubs.

What the fuck are you doing?

Boys, we gotta wake up this piss-drunk bastard.

Just shake him, then.

Motherfucker, he might be dead.

Jesus Christ. Did he just shit himself?

Oh, baby.

Oh, baby. Magic 8-Ball says, "All signs point to yes."

My... Oh, fuck.

Holy shit, clown's shit stinks. I thought it smelled like cotton candy.

Oh, these fucking rats.

Here.

Uh, those hot dogs look kinda weird.

Are they okay to eat?

These are real good Italian jumbos. Kids love.

I don't know, dude. I fell in the snow once when I was a kid,

and I pulled my fingers out, and I had frostbite.

That's what these look like. How long they been in there?

Long time, so cook long time.

Okay. Thanks, Dawg. You're a lifesaver, man.

- No Cold War here, boy. - Put your fucking hand down,

- or I cut it off. - That's cool.

All right, shorties, who wants to be first to step up and pet the animals?

That gorilla isn't even real.

Come on now. You know the zoo is dope.

Man, they cool, man, they cool.

I wanna pick up the frog.

Hi, birthday boy. How are you today?

Ew. Gross. That frog is dead.

Oh, fuck, it is.

Finch, what the fuck's wrong with you?

Playing with dead frogs and shit. No wonder your ass got warts.

I think I've had enough of the animals, Mommy.

Okay. Who wants to play pin the tail on the donkey?

Your party sucks ass, Mo.

Hey, fuck you.

- Fight! - Fight!

- Choke him out! - Mo, that's enough. Stop it.

Grampy! I knew you wouldn't let us down.

Of course not, little buddy. Check out the clown, kids.

Just keep your distance. He doesn't smell very "clowny" just yet.

Oh, great entertainment for the kids, Ricky.

A clown that smells like booze and shit.

He has a sock duct-taped in his mouth. Classy.

It's better than what you fucking did.

And it's all part of the act, Sarah. So mind your own fucking business.

Yo, what's up, dudes? We got the birthday food.

Yeah.

What in the fuck is all over you? Did you get banged by a snurf?

- I drank paint, dude, remember? - Yeah, and he's sweating it out.

- Epic. - Whoa, that's insane.

Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick. I've fucking seen it all now.

You're the bestest Grampy ever.

Thanks, little Mo-Mo. Okay, kids. I need to get high,

so I'm gonna do a few bottle tokes, gonna get the clown to clean his shit pipe

and then it's party time!

When I suggested getting a clown from out front of Frudy's hair salon,

I was thinking more about helping a poor homeless fella out

with a couple bucks.

Not kidnapping him and literally scaring the shit out of him.

I mean, the party was going okay for a bit, but…

once Ricky forced the clown to swallow 40-yards of rags

and puke his goddamn guts up, I mean, things went fucky.

Gross. Some went in my mouth.

Hey, what's up, birthday boy?

This party's starting to suck ass again, Uncle Julian.

Can you fix it?

What? The party's not that bad.

Oh, Jesus. This is a fucking terrible existence.

To hell with this! I'm outta here. Shoot me if you wanna.

- I don't give a fuck. - Dick!

- You're an alcoholic! - You're garbage!

- Have another drink. - You suck.

- Lame. - Don't worry, little buddy.

I got your back. Everything's gonna be okay.

Fucking Julian. Always gotta be the big hero.

- Cory, get the fuck over here right now. - What's up, dude?

Listen. You know how ever since we met,

- I've thought you were a dick, right? - Yeah, dude.

What if there's a way to change that? What if there's a way

we could hang out together, just you and me

for part of an afternoon sometime this year?

You just have to do

- one little thing for me. - Done.

If the almighty, big fucking tough show-off Julian

thinks he's taking over my gramson's party,

he's got another thing running.

Not this fucking time.

If anyone's gonna show my gramson how to fucking party, it's me.

All right, kids. Who wants to see the rainbow-colored dancing guy?

Work up a good sweat so you get some colors flowing.

- Remember our deal. - I got this, dude.

Okay, hit it, Roc-Pile.

♪ Happy birthday motherfucker Happy birthday♪

♪ It's Mr. Finch Listen to what I'm saying♪

♪ Jacob's son looks like a fucking alien♪

♪ We gonna raise the roof We gonna tear down the walls♪

♪ But watch your sack Mo might shoot up your balls♪

♪ Happy birthday motherfucker Happy birthday♪

♪ Happy birthday♪

Boo!

The beats are dope, but, like, you suck.

Get off the stage, arsehole!

Start sweating some fucking colors, Cory, or the deal's off.

I'm trying, dude, but I'm too bloated.

Hey, kids, who wants to see these two idiots

slap the shit out of each other?

I can't hit Cory, Julian.

Julian, you can't treat your friends like their cocks in a cockfight.

- Ow. What the heck, Cory? - Nice slap, Cory.

That's gonna leave a mark.

Quit it, dude.

Reggie, thank fuck. It's Ricky. We got a bit of a situation at the park.

You got any kind of fucking bouncy castles or anything like that for kids

I can rent off you for a birthday party? This is a fucking emergency, brother.

Jeez, salamander snatch. This place ain't no fucking Disneyland.

Sorry, bud. No can help. Now, wait a second there, turtle tits.

I do have some old stuff left here from the Bill Lynch Fair.

I mean, it's a bit fucking rusty, but it's got a good diesel on her.

Should just fire up no problem.

Oh, fuck, I love you. Get it the fuck over here, you crow-comer.

- Dude, quit it! - Stop the fight!

Boys, what the fuck did I say about feeding him oil-based paint?

If by some miracle this doesn't kill him, I hope the fuck you realize

this could gointo his pigments, and he could stay this color forever.

He's fine, Bubs. You're fine, right, Core?

Dudes…

I think my body… is losing control of itsel...

Awesome. Let it all out, buddy. This is gonna make us a fucking fortune.

You're not fucking putting this online. Are you crazy?

Julian, people will be doing the piss and shit rainbow challenge

on YouTube because of you. People could fucking die.

Hey, Mo, check it out. Look at the surprise Grampy got for you.

Whoa!

Okay, let it down easy right there, Reg.

You are the fucking man!

What do you think, honey? Your old man come through or what?

- Uh, Dad, it looks like... - It looks like absolute shit.

There's no fucking way

these kids are getting on that fucking rusty, old deathtrap, Ricky.

Really? Well, first of all, you're not in charge of my gramson,

so you can go fuck yourself and go jump in a swamp, Sarah.

Bubbles can easily make this thing safely for the kids.

My uncle Bubbles can fix anything, guys.

Can't you, Uncle Bubs?

I guess I could. Anything for my little Mo-Mo.

See, Sarah? Fuck you.

It's time to get this party fucking started, kids.

You dirty cocksucker!

Look at this fucking rust bucket, would you?

Reggie says he can get the diesel fired up no problem,

but the bearings are shot on a bunch of the up-and-down control arms,

calliope's completely fucked, there's mutilated horse bodies.

This thing's a goddamn nightmare. I've got her jimmy-rigged for now,

but this is just like putting a Band-Aid on a goddamn gunshot wound.

Who wants a hot dog?

Oh, my fuck. These are so fucking spicy.

Cory, these aren't hot dogs. They're fucking sausages.

The kids can't eat these.

- Ah, my mouth! - Same tube of meat, dude, different name.

What the frig is going on here?

Does this shit-go-round belong to you, Ricky?

What's it to you, you gigantic fuck guppy?

- You need a permit for that friggin' thing. - Yeah?

The crane tore up the pavement.

Yeah? Well, you need a permit to suck my cock. Since you did that,

I guess we're fucking even.

This is bullshit, Ricky. You're having this all repaved,

you're paying for it,

and you're getting the frigging lines put back on.

I got an idea, Randy.

Why don't you suck the lines off my paved cock right now?

That's frigging it!

- You are going down right now. - Yeah? Come on.

- Let's go, now! - Take your fucking pants off. Go ahead.

Oh, I'm taking them off, Rick.

- I'm gonna go. - Not scared of you.

- I'm not scared of you either. - You're fucking going down.

You are frigging done, Ricky.

Whoa.

Are those spicy Italian jumbos?

Where the frig did you guys find those? They stopped making them years ago.

Can I have one, please?

They're all yours, fatty. They're gross.

No, the sausages are for the kids, you fucking tuna twat.

Get the fuck out of here.

Wait. Holy shit, Randy. Do that again, man.

Sure.

Jesus Christ, man. How many do you think you can swallow like that?

A shit ton.

Yeah, I wonder what you're pretending they are.

Just a second. I've gotta set this up. We're in Sunnyvale Trailer Park,

and Randy's about to break the world record for eating sausages.

Come on, Randy. For fuck's sake, this is lame. Come on!

Sorry, Julian. I just gotta find my rhythm.

Do you have any ketchup or mustard, or something I could lube them up with?

Lube what up?

What in the fuck is happening here?

I found some mayonnaise.

Mayonnaise? Okay, just...

Does anyone else see a fucking problem with this?

No, Bubs, man. This is perfect.

Dip them right in there, Randy. Right to the base, bud.

Holy fuck, run. Randy's gonna blow.

What? Are you choking, Randy? He's choking!

Oh, my fuck. Does anybody know how to do the hind-lick remover?

Julian, get in here. We need your muscles.

For fuck's sake, hold my phone.

Hurry up. Get behind him and squeeze him.

I'm not getting behind him and squeezing him. It'll turn him on.

Well, he's fucking turning blue.

So you either turn him on, or he's turning off. For good!

No, you gotta spoon him. Get in there nice and close

with those big boa constrictor arms and wrap them around him.

For fuck's sake.

It's not working.

The sausage must have bonded to the esophageal wall.

- You gotta use a pumping motion, Julian. - Pumping motion?

- What the fuck are you talking about? - You gotta fucking pump him!

Get a rhythm going like you're rocking a car stuck in the mud.

Jesus Christ.

He's getting hard. Just so everyone's aware.

What? Hard?

He's just getting a little hard, Julian. Don't stop. We're losing him.

Oh, my fuck. We need more pressure on the center of the gut.

Bend him over the picnic table.

Use the edge to focus more torque on the belly.

Jesus, this is so fucked!

Come on, Julian. Pump him hard. You can fuck harder than that.

Not enough surface area. You gotta go belly to back on him, Julian.

For fuck's sake, Bubbles!

Grip the edge of the picnic table and really fucking give it to him!

Fucking hammer him!

That's it, Julian.

Teach him a lesson.

Oh, thank fuck!

You saved him.

Holy frig.

Did you see that, everybody?

You just saved my life, Julian.

Sorry about that. It just does that sometimes.

Jesus, he is hard.

You're my hero, Julian.

Randy, get that fucking thing off my leg right now, or I'll kill you myself.

Julian.

Here we go again. The perfectly fucking glorious Julian

saves the day and becomes a big superhero to all the fucking land.

Fuck, he pisses me off. Oh well, as they say,

success is a revenge. So it's time to show everybody

what kind of success old Ricky boy's got in storage.

Jesus shimmering turtle cocks, there. Okay, I think I got it.

Fire in the fucking hole.

Just fucking with you there, sheep shitter.

- Here she goes. - Right fucking on, Reg.

This is lame.

Faster, Grampy, faster. Come on, speed it up.

I like how you're thinking, birthday boy.

Be careful, Ricky. This thing doesn't have a governor on it that I can see.

Yeah, I stripped that off this thing years ago to put it on an old golf cart.

It's fine. The kids wanna go faster.

Oh fuck!

Now we're talking.

Now what?

Dad, what are you doing? Turn it off.

Mo-Mo, does your arm hurt?

Nope. Just my hand, my wrist, and my elbow.

Okay, everyone.

That's it. The party is over. Call your moms.

What the fuck did you shut it down for, Bubs?

You didn't see the kids getting flung six ways from fucking Sunday?

Well, yeah, but I was getting gold, man.

Erased.

What the fuck?

Julian, greed has completely taken over the common sense gene in your head, bud.

- What are you talking about? - You know what?

You just don't get it. I give up. I don't give a fuck.

You post whatever the fuck you want, you big, greedy, muscly bastard.

Greedy? Who's fucking greedy?

Everything I do, I do for all of us, and you know it, man.

Yeah.

How's that looking, Cory? That looks like a pretty good match.

I think you need to go a couple shades blacker, dude.

Like, Darth Vader black.

Yeah, that's perfect, dude.

You wanted to talk to me?

Just wanted to let you know

that your viral video's catching on as we speak.

Uh, what video?

What's it matter what video?

As long as it's viral and it's making money.

Isn't that your rule, Julian?

Bubs, come on.

No. Anyway, I'm just…

letting you know it's catching on and cash will be rolling in pretty soon.

What fucking video are you talking about, Bubs?

Yeah, don't act like you don't fucking like this, Randy.

You like big Julian coming aboard you.

Bubs, what the fuck is this?

"Muscular man saves overweight bisexual wiener choker

with sexual Heimlich thrust maneuver"?

Are you fucking kidding me?

I embellished the dialogue a tiny bit, but look at the numbers.

I mean, it's already made probably 40 bucks.

You gotta take this down, man. What if the boys in jail see this, huh?

Oh, you want me to take it down, do you? Even though it could make money.

Isn't that all that matters to you, Julian?

Just take it the fuck down.

Yeah, okay. I'll take it down, but…

I'm taking it down 'cause you're my best friend

and I don't wanna embarrass you.

Jeez, I don't know, though, Julian.

What if this thing goes viral, right through the roof?

Look at that. It just jumped up another 1,000 views.

Just made more money.

- I say we leave it up. - Okay. You made your point here, okay?

Look, I'm sorry.

Friends are more important than money, I get it.

Now just delete this fucking thing.

Like a bronco.

Oh, my fuck. It's broken?

Well, at least it's a clean break.

Your grampy is a piece of shit.

Mo, I feel like shit. I'm so sorry, buddy. Fuck me.

- You made today perfect, Grampy. - What are you talking about?

My friends said it was the best party ever.

And the girls are gonna like my cast.

Oh, actually, that's true. Girls do like the cast.

When I was a kid, I tried to jump off the school roof skydiving,

broke my legs. The fucking girls loved it.

Actually, I got banged that year. How old are you now?

He's not doing any banging yet, ew!

Now, say good night to Grampy.

I want you to be the first one to sign it, Grampy.

Fuck, I'd be honored, Gramson.

Thanks for trying so hard today, Dad.

You really are a good grandfather.

Oh, I appreciate that, Trin. Thanks.

Oh, my fuck. These are the good ones.

You can get really fucked up off these ones.

Oh, yeah. I missed these fucking things.

What?

Oh, fuck.

Jesus Christ!

Fuck off.