All language subtitles for Dicktown s01e09_English

(upbeat music)

I'm so sorry,
but could you please

stop taking selfies in here?

It's making people
uncomfortable.

No, I'm not taking selfies.

I'm using my phone to spy
on that guy in the corner.

Mm.
That seems worse.

I'm totally taking selfies,
'cause I'm proud of my face

and I want my phone to see it.

It's a stakeout.
The man's a thief.

And I have to prove it
before he finishes

his pulled pork platter
and leaves town forever.

Oh, okay.

Just please be subtle.

Sure, no problem.
Subtle.

‐(camera clicks)
‐(shouts)

Oh.
(groans)

(dramatic music)

Okay.
(exhales)

‐Oh, shit.
‐What?

Guess who just walked in.

Heather Culbreth
from lake patrol.

‐Oh, wow.
‐Location is clear, over.

(laughs)
She says "over"

into her walkie‐talkie.

‐Can I ask you a question?
‐What? Sure.

‐It's a personal question.
‐Oh.

What is going on with you guys?

‐What?
‐You and Heather.

Nothing.
Obviously nothing.

Uh, well, then why are we
taking all these cases

down by the lake, huh?

The Mystery
of the Capsized Canoe

and the Mystery
of the Moldy Towels

and the Mystery
of the so‐called

Sunken Treasure.

Yeah, uh, a city's waterfront
is always a nexus of crime.

Come on, man, the last one

was you snorkeling down
to get some kid's quarter

out of the mud‐‐
a quarter.

Just admit it, that you've been
hoping to see her again

because you love her.

David, David, shh!

(sighs)
Fine. You're right.

I have a thing for her.

So tell her, man.
She's right there.

It wouldn't be appropriate.

I mean, I used to be
her employer.

You were 13 years old
back then, you dummy.

‐I just think ethically‐‐
‐(groans)

Oh, my God.
Hey, guys.

John, look who it is.

Look, it's Heather Culbreth
in the Lunch Hut.

Yes, I can see that.

You know what,
this calls for a celebration.

Oh.

Shall we feast
from my horn of plenty?

‐(horn blares)
‐(yells)

‐Why do you have that?
‐Really, David?

I love to have fun
and celebrate my friends.

‐Hi, Heather.
‐Hey.

So the Lunch Hut's
still your spot, huh?

Uh, yeah.
So what, uh, brings you here?

Advanced security
for the commish.

‐(radio squawks)
‐GLEN: Culbreth.

Are we still clear?
Over.

Yes, Glen, we're still clear.
Over.

Does seem a little intense
for the commissioner

of the Water
and Sewer Authority.

Oh, you think?

(militaristic marching music)

♪♪ ♪♪

Ugh, no.

Take me to the President's
Physician in New Downtown.

♪♪ ♪♪

(sighs)
Welcome to my life.

‐(radio squawks)
‐GLEN: Culbreth.

We're wheels up
for New Downtown. Over.

I'm gonna stay here

and do a post‐op sweep
for bugs. Over.

GLEN: Copy that.
Over and out.

Boom!
I just bought myself two hours

of fucking‐around time.

‐Can I join you?
‐Um‐‐

‐Totally.
‐Sure.

See, look at this.
Isn't this nice?

Three old friends,
laughing and loving life

as only friends can.

‐Okay.
‐Sure, David.

They should make a show
about friends.

Hey, Hunch,
I saw you snorkeling

at the lake the other day.

You saw‐‐I‐‐
well, I didn't see you.

Well, actually,
I only saw your calves

flopping above the surface.

They're unmistakable.

Well, I've gotten
some compliments.

You know what, John?
Here comes another compliment

because your calves
are delectable,

and Heather, you are a good
judge of sexy legs.

Thank you, David.
That's enough.

Uh, I was on a case
at the time, so yeah.

Just like we are on
a case right now.

‐All right, David.
‐Wait, really?

Well, all right,
let's not get into‐‐

‐It's a stakeout, Heather.
‐Ugh.

We're staking out Dr. Neckbeard
McBeef Jerky Breath over there.

HEATHER: Mm. He is a jerk,
and he's from South Carolina.

Well, obviously.
‐Uh, not‐viously.

What are you talking about?

HEATHER: First, he brings
his own barbecue sauce

to the Lunch Hut,
so he's an asshole.

Two, it's mustard‐based.

That's some
South Carolina shit.

Damn, you're smart.

So what's the case?

Oh, well, my client‐‐

Our client.
Let's remember.

It's our client.

The client has a collection
of, um, vintage cars.

Ooh, fancy client.

‐Uh‐‐
‐Congratulations.

Not really.
The client is actually‐‐

It's confidential, David.
That's‐‐

‐Oh, really?
‐Identity's confidential, yes.

Anyway, the prize
of our client's collection

is a 1968 Dodge Custom Charger.

Wait, '68 Custom‐‐it better not
be the General Lee.

No, no, no, no.
This is a hot pink car.

Oh, that's actually quite rare.

Exactly.

The man in the corner
is Ronald Pronk,

a car collector
passing through town.

When he saw
my client's Charger,

he noted a crack
in the windshield,

and offered to restore it
at his shop

in Charleston, for free.

That doesn't sound shady
at all.

Yeah, well, my client
is somewhat naive.

You might say
he requires some schooling.

‐Okay, David.
‐You could say that.

Like additional grades
of schooling‐‐

‐All right, David, enough.
‐Are required.

So Pronk took possession
of the car,

and then let me guess,
claimed someone stole it.

Sound familiar?

Amber Pulman's Pog collection,
seventh grade.

(laughs)
Oh, yeah!

I borrowed Amber's Pogs!

And then I sold them
to Bucky Rindfuss.

And when Amber confronted me,
I said they were stolen‐‐

‐BOTH: By a werewolf.
‐By a werewolf.

‐JOHN: Right.
‐"The perfect crime."

And it was,
because it turns out

Amber was totally
into werewolves,

and they turned her on.

So we went to Umstead Park
on a werewolf hunt,

and we wound up making out
by the light of a full moon.

‐(howls)
‐(clears throat)

But then she dumped me
for Trip Kowalski

'cause he had a full beard
in seventh grade,

and I was so pissed off,

I think that's why
I beat both of you up

in Spanish class that one time.

(exhales)
Friendship, nothing beats it.

Seventh grade was fun, right?

BOTH: No, it wasn't.

‐Yes, it was.
‐No.

‐I don't get it.
‐Yes, it was.

HEATHER: A stolen Charger
isn't easy to hide.

Why is he still in town?

Pronk's arrogant.

He even offered
to call the police himself,

but my client
wants to keep things quiet

till I can prove
that Pronk's story is bogus.

Got it.
So what's his story?

JOHN: Pronk says
he brought the Charger

back to his motel parking lot.

That's where he kept
his own car, a Ford Focus.

Otherwise,
the lot was empty.

No witnesses.

‐When was this?
‐5:20 p. m. yesterday.

Pronk was making his way
to the lobby

when an unknown robber
supposedly jumped out

from behind a bush.

Pronk says
the guy pulled a gun,

grabbed the Charger,
and took off.

DAVID: And then
a giant serpent appeared.

‐JOHN: David, come on.
‐DAVID: And writhed around.

Did Pronk describe
the carjacker?

Well, he...

Right.
Big surprise.

What, he was wearing
a little silver hat?

JOHN: Ugh.
David.

Tell me
about lighting conditions.

JOHN: Pronk says he couldn't
see which way the robber went

because he was blinded
by the evening sun

focused through the motel's
glass bricks.

At 5:20 p. m.?
This angle isn't right.

David, could you, uh, could you
take a step back, please?

‐Ah, like this?
‐No, further, please.

‐Really?
‐Yeah. Go further away.

DAVID: All right.

JOHN: There it is, precisely.

DAVID: Um, I can't reach
my disco fries now

because of this distance.

Okay, the light tracks,

but how do we know
Pronk's telling the truth

about being in the lot
at 5:20 p. m.?

Ah, because,
according to the Richardsville

Birding Society,

that's when a large flock
of starlings

was spotted flying
directly over the motel.

They defecated everywhere.

Oh, shit.
My phone.

And I can't reach
my disco fries.

Does Pronk's car
have bird crap on it?

Yes, it does.
His Ford Focus is outside.

‐You can see for yourself.
‐HEATHER: Hmm.

And the splatter pattern
is consistent

with an overhead bombing,

just like every space
in motel parking lot.

‐I checked myself.
‐Okay, okay.

‐We'll get there.
‐DAVID: Alert!

Access to disco fries
has been compromised.

Abort mission.

As you can see,
he has matured a lot.

Be honest...
how many times

have you stolen fries
in your shorts,

or are you suddenly mad
that you never thought of it?

‐Oh, zing!
‐Okay, this dynamic sucks.

Hey, David, instead of living
with your parents,

why don't you just sleep
in one of your shorts pockets?

(both laughing)

You know what, John?

‐You know what, buddy?
‐What?

Maybe Heather
would be interested to know

some more facts
about our client.

‐David, no.
‐Huh?

‐What facts?
‐You think?

David, please.

Heather, there is something
I could tell you right now,

but because I have matured

and I actually am
a very good friend,

I'm not going to.

(horn blares)

(customers groan)

CUSTOMER: Stop doing that!

What was that about?

Uh, who knows
with that guy, right?

Oh, wait, damnit.
He's my ride.

Don't worry.
I have my work truck.

‐Oh.
‐Wait a sec, look.

Don't you see it?

Wait, what?
See what?

The motel parking lot
was empty?

Yeah, right,
except for Pronk's Ford Focus.

And the starlings defecated

all over the lot
in every space?

Yeah, every single space.

Looked like a bird poop
Jackson Pollock.

Okay, think about the guano
in the spaces

and the guano on the Focus.

Wait, the guano on the Focus.

Focus, Hunch.

There was guano on the Focus,

and in every space in the lot.

‐HEATHER: Mm‐hmm.
‐JOHN: Pronk's Ford Focus

couldn't have been there
at 5:20 p. m.

HEATHER: Yeah.

JOHN: It would've acted
as a guano shield.

We can't prove that birds
didn't shit on Pronk's car.

But we can prove
it didn't happen at 5:20

in the motel parking lot,
which means...

BOTH: He's lying!

(exhales)

That was amazing.

Totally.
(exhales)

Look at him gloat.

He doesn't even know
we've got him.

It's good to see you
at work again.

Oh, thanks, yeah.

Uh, you know, Heather,

I've spent the last,
uh, few weeks‐‐

Lurking around me at the lake
but avoiding all eye contact?

I hadn't noticed.

Sorry.
It's just, um...

I'm‐‐I was embarrassed.

Why?

Well, you got out.

You went out into the world,

and I didn't.

Hunch...

I thought Dicktown was enough,
you know?

But then I realized
it's barely anything.

No, Hunch.
Take it from me.

The world
is just different Dicktowns

full of different dicks.

Besides, how bad
can this town be?

‐I came back.
‐Yeah. No, you did.

Uh, okay, Heather, uh...

I'm sort of in love with you.

Never detected that?
(laughs)

Detected that.

Target's on the move.

JOHN: What? Oh.

Should we confront him
together,

like in the old days?

Um, why don't you go?

I'll sit here
and back you up.

Copy that.

But wait a minute,
a 1968 Dodge Charger

in hot pink?

RONALD: Hey, get away from me,
brigand.

Dodge didn't make
a pink Charger till 1970.

How do you steal a pink Charger

that doesn't
even exist unless‐‐

(gasps)

Help!
David, where are you?

(grunting)

Oh, wow, you found my car.

It's about time,
you old weirdo.

Peace out.
I'll cass‐ap you.

HEATHER: (exhales)
1968 hot pink Charger,

one of the rarest Hot Wheels
on the market.

Yeah, it's very valuable.

That's why Pronk
tried to steal it.

The point is that it's a toy,
Hunch.

You're still working
for children.

Well, mostly teenagers,

and they are extremely mature.
I mean‐‐

How have you not
been arrested yet?

(sighs)
Honestly, I'm not sure.

That's what you should be
embarrassed about, Hunch,

not that you haven't left home,

that you haven't grown up.

Well, now that's not true,
I have business cards.

‐I have to go.
‐Wait! Heather.

Can I still get a ride?

(bittersweet music)

♪♪ ♪♪