Original subtitles

(mellow music)

JOHN: Uh, I'll have a half order of toast, please.

"A half order of toast."

‐Correct. ‐Sure.

‐And I'll get you some coffee. ‐Nope.

No coffee. Thank you very much.

♪♪ ♪♪

Whoa, sneaking in coffee now, huh?

I know.

We haven't had a case in two weeks,

‐and I'm totally broke. ‐I know. Me too.

‐It's so liberating. ‐Oh, yeah.

Spoken like a man who lives with his parents.

No, no, seriously. Being broke,

it makes that next paycheck all the sweeter.

Oh, by the way, David... (slurps)

I can't pay you, because I'm broke.

God damn it.

Yeah, I had to sell my refrigerator

just to buy my asthma inhaler this month.

Wait, what? That's insane!

What about all the ham I left in that refrigerator?

Well, David, your ham is warm now.

Unacceptable!

That's my fucking personal ham

for when I come over to visit you.

You need to ask him for a loan.

No, I am not going to ask him for a loan.

No excuses!

That's where I draw the line, David.

Here's your half order of toast.

(whispering) I brought you a lot of jelly,

because I know you're struggling.

(soft groan)

Okay, let's go ask him.

TUCKER: You want a loan? (chuckles)

That's not happening.

Tucker, you need to help us out, man.

I know you have money.

You live in this big house.

You have all this fancy shit.

Plus, your name is Tucker.

Do you know what N‐O spells?

‐Yes. ‐TUCKER: Wrong.

‐It spells "no." ‐DAVID: Fuck my life.

Come on, David, he just got you with that last week.

It's nothing personal, detectives.

All my cash is tied up in catering

for my croquet tournament.

Wait, whoa‐‐ croquet tournament?

‐When? ‐Saturday.

‐I've partnered with SCKR. ‐(John gasps) SCKR?

The internet seersucker suit company

that cuts out the middle man and bought their own

seersucker suit factory in Germany?

Yah. I'm a brand ambassador.

I provide SCKR with beautiful teens to play croquet.

‐(gagging) ‐SCKR provides the wardrobe.

I blast the photos across my platforms.

SCKR puts up a thousand‐dollar first prize

and a little money for my trouble.

It's all about looking good and having fun.

Everything you're saying sounds really dumb.

Wait a minute, Tucker, did you say a thousand‐dollar prize?

I did...and now I regret saying that.

(laughing) My problems are solved,

because I'm going to win that croquet tournament.

Tucker, your fancy friends are about to become

victims of FOBOCM.

Which is...

"Full‐on, balls‐out croquet murder."

(dramatic music)

♪♪ ♪♪

(car horn honks)

Let's go, John!

The sooner you win this stupid tournament,

the sooner you can buy a new fridge, and then we‐‐

‐(laughing) Oh, my god. ‐Huh?

DAVID: What happened?

I got this suit 20 years ago.

I've been waiting for the right moment to deploy it.

Oh, my God, you deployed the shit out of that.

You look insane.

Yeah, it's my secret weapon.

It is a really tight suit,

and when were you gonna tell me about your robotic penis?

David, that's my inhaler.

Took me 20 minutes just to get it into the pocket.

‐Oh. ‐(coughs)

I do think these pants might be a little tight.

Damn, son.

Let's ride.

Uh, actually, can you put on my seat belt for me?

I can't move my arms.

I can't believe you're excited about playing croquet.

Have you ever even played this dumb game before?

Mm, David, of course.

When I was young, I played with people all over the world.

Wait. How'd you do that?

JOHN: Croquet by mail...

DAVID: (whispering) Oh, fuck.

JOHN: Allowed me to master strategy

without the physical risks of an actual game.

It was a rush like no other,

for the asthmatic child, at least.

DAVID: Croquet by mail.

That is hardcore.

When it comes to croquet, I'm fucking hardcore as shit.

(upbeat jazzy music)

JOHN: Well, well, well, look at these pathetic losers.

Uh, are you kidding? This is amazing.

‐JOHN: What? ‐DAVID: This is like

that book we read in high school

about the guy everyone thinks is so great.

‐Oh, really? Which book? ‐"The Greatest Guy"

by F‐This Fitzgerald or something.

All right. I'll ignore that.

Listen up, everyone.

My name is John Hunchman.

I came here to smash balls and make money,

and I'm all out of money.

(laughs) Nice outfit.

He looks like a gummy bear going to Sunday school.

He looks like if Mark Twain lived in a basement

with a freezer full of human heads.

‐Brutal. ‐Okay, I can hear you.

He looks like if a riverboat captain

and a Double Stuf Oreo had a baby.

‐Ooh. ‐Keep it coming.

Every insult makes me stronger.

Looking like "Brideshead Regurgitated."

(snorts) Oh, my God.

All right. You know what?

That's‐‐that's actually a good reference.

He looks like a bag of mustaches

trying to sneak into the Kentucky Derby.

‐(laughing) ‐Okay.

Enough meaningless nonsense.

Let's play croquet. Where's Tucker?

Rise and grind, bitches.

BOTH: Wow.

JOHN: SCKR really does send quality seersucker suits

straight to your door.

Remember, no matter who wins or loses,

this is all about looking good and having fun.

Right, but there's still a thousand‐dollar prize.

‐Correct? ‐(sighs)

That's correct.

Now, everyone remember,

the official hashtag is #sucklife.

And that's paid out immediately, the prize?

Sure.

And you should promote that

across all your‐‐

‐In cash? ‐Cash, check, Bitcoin.

Whatever, but you gotta win first.

‐Okay. Got it covered. ‐All right, champ.

Good luck. You call me when it's over.

We'll hit the Fridge Pit.

We'll get you a fresh, shiny fridge.

ANNOUNCER: Fridge Pit!

Whoa, whoa, David, you can't leave.

(sputters) Croquet's lame.

I'm gonna go read magazines at the gas station.

No, no, it's‐‐it's‐‐ it's two‐person teams, David.

‐I‐‐I need you. ‐DAVID: Ugh. Really?

‐You need me? ‐Uh‐‐

Do it for the ham.

‐Fine. ‐Yes!

Okay, but if this isn't fun, I'm gonna be pissed.

Put us on the board, Tucker!

Fine. What's your team name?

Uh, how 'bout "Best Buddies Ball Bonkers LLC"‐‐

‐Weak... ‐Oh, my God.

Our team name is

"Your Face Is My Slaughterhouse."

Oh...kay.

MAN: Round one!

(rock music)

Boom!

We win.

In your face, Toby!

All right, chill out, man.

‐It's just a game. ‐"Just a game."

The catchphrase of losers.

Who's next? How 'bout you two?

Who, us?

We won the tournament last year.

We get a buy.

Oh, well, wowee.

What's up with him?

This is supposed to be about looking good and having fun.

Dude, I don't know.

‐I've never seen him like this. ‐Come on.

Come on. You want some?

You want some, right? Come on.

Which one of you is gonna take a piece of this?

He looks like a toll booth having a panic attack.

MAN: Round two!

Come on, Britney!

You got this, Brit!

(camera shutter snapping)

(coughs) Missed the ball.

‐(coughing) ‐Oh, shoot.

My turn.

♪♪ ♪♪

‐Aw, man. ‐Lesson here, Britney:

you come at the king, you best not miss.

♪♪ ♪♪

JOHN: Ha!

Why are you being such a little bitch?

(blabbering)

This is a croquet tournament, okay?

It's not a cuddle puddle.

‐Dude. ‐What?

You're acting insane.

This is supposed to be fun.

I literally can't afford to have fun, okay?

Now get out of my way. You're blocking my shot.

♪♪ ♪♪

Mm...mm.

Yes!

ALL: Boo!

♪♪ ♪♪

MAN: Round three!

(sighs) Stupid game.

Whoa, David, what are you doing?

‐What? ‐Not the red ball.

Green ball's a cleaner shot.

The green ball's too far away.

No, it's not. It's perfect.

Listen. Do you need me or not?

‐(groans) ‐Let me play my game.

‐Fine. ‐Step back two steps.

Goddamn.

Breathing down my neck over here.

Shit.

Oh, god damn it, David!

Whatever!

I told you, David.

Now I have to clean up your mess.

Oh, okay, fine. I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry I messed up your master plan.

I'm gonna go get a drink.

You're mine now.

‐Ah! Ouch! ‐Shit!

Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch. Finger cramp.

‐ALL: Boo! ‐What was that?

Oh, I guess it's a false alarm.

Tucker, the weird, fat, old man isn't playing fair.

Reign it in, Detective.

We're trying to document a fun seersucker lifestyle.

Not your menopausal breakdown.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just get the prize money ready.

MAN: Match point!

It all comes down to this.

The final wicket.

This is why we love croquet.

Who's looking good and having fun?

‐(all cheering) ‐Oh, Jesus.

Enough about looking good.

(camera shutter snapping)

Out of my way, "Grey Gardens."

(grunting) Asthma attack!

Tucker, this weird, old man

is doing another fake medical emergency.

Oh, shit. No, no.

He's having an asthma attack. He's‐‐it's real.

Where's your inhaler?

Can't get it out of my pocket.

Damn, these pants are so tight.

Does anyone have an inhaler?

Anyone?

I know he's been a dick all afternoon.

Doesn't mean he should die.

Fine. Here you go.

‐Thank you. ‐(gasping)

This inhaler... (wheezes)

It's beautiful.

Come on, Colonel.

Suck life!

Suck life. Suck life.

ALL: Suck life! Suck life!

Suck life!

This is not what I planned,

but thank you for this incredible spectacle.

ALL: Suck life! Suck life!

Now there, and zoom... and match.

See? I definitely would've won that on paper.

You know what?

No one gives a shit about what happens on a piece of paper.

What‐‐what is your problem?

Dude, are you not even gonna thank me?

For helping me lose the match?

For saving your life, asshole.

Technically, the inhaler saved my life.

Admit it; you literally cannot live without me,

because real life is not on paper.

Will you stop waving that ham in my face?

John, this is the talking ham.

Whoever holds the ham can talk.

Now, you listen to me, damn it.

‐(phone chimes) ‐Whoa.

‐What? ‐Tucker.

He just sent me $500.

According to him, it turns out,

"Young people playing lawn games..."

JOHN AND TUCKER: With a belligerent,

lonely, old man...

TUCKER: Speaks to millennials' yearning for weird dads

who aren't their actual dads.

Good work, Detective.

Huh. I'm a brand ambassador.

Goddamn, you're selfish.

We're both brand ambassadors.

‐(phone chimes) ‐Oh.

Uh, did you just order me five honey‐baked hams?

Well, I don't want you to die from eating that rotten ham,

and you have a point.

Here we go.

I couldn't have lost without you.

‐Uh‐huh. ‐All right?

Okay, apology accepted,

if what you're saying is you need me.

‐I need‐‐ ‐Just say it, man.

Just say it. Why's it gotta be so hard?

Don't even think about it. Just say it.

You need...

Need...a new refrigerator.

So I can stuff all this hot honeyed ham in it.

Ugh, vomit.

‐My hot honeyed ham, homey. ‐Disgusting. Yeah.

‐Euphemism taken. ‐Take it.

Take all that euphemism.