All language subtitles for Black Monday s03e09 TWO.eng

Previously, on

Okay, I admit it!
We left him for dead!

To Ms. Nomi Maldana,

our latest signing
to KokoMo Co Records.

And�your�fiancé.

- We're getting hitched, y'all!
- Yeah.

Maybe Nomi and I are in
different stages of our life.

Better to know the day before
than the day after.

I wanna give you total
control of your own label.

Sign anybody you want.
Starting with Nomi, of course.

I don't wanna lead you on,
unless maybe it's onto a bed.

Play your cards right
and you can nab the VP slot

for the
next presidential campaign.

Did�we?

Cartwheel 69?

You�wish.

Damn.
Jammer's cabin is pretty sweet.

I was at Home Alone,
the movie.

I was at a test screening
for the movie Home Alone.

The fuck are you doing,
Larry?

Why are you sitting
in the elevator

when you should be
at your office?

If he didn't make it back
to his office,

he�didn't�sign�the�papers.

There is a
Tiff Drag Night tonight.

What�the�fuck�is�that?

It looks like a bag
of uncased sausage.

Holy shit, that's a dead body.

No, it's... it's alive.

Hey-o!

Bring in those bodies
'cause it's time to partys.

I said the S on the end
to keep the plural thing going.

Okay. Who is ready to have
some good, clean fun?

And by good, clean fun, I mean
some of the purest cocaine

your schnozzes
have ever shnorted.

Ooh, what's that drinking game
we used to play?

- Quarters?
- Quarters.

Where we'd see
how much we could drink

after we smoked
a quarter ounce of weed?

Let's do that.
Heads up!

Oh.

I thought you were
gonna catch that.

I'm sorry, I just...
I don't think either of us

is�really�in�the�mood,�Mo.

What the fuck? Come on, guys.
Are you kidding me?

This is my bachelor party.
And tomorrow's the wedding.

And New Year's Eve.
That's like a fun-fecta.

Yeah,�and�also�Tiff�is�dead.

Yeah, right.

I'm... I'm�sorry,�Blair.

But�listen,�don't�you�think

Tiff would want us
to have some fun, though?

This year has been
very sobering.

And I don't mean
sobering sobering.

And now I'm about to get
everything I've ever wanted.

Well, that seems like
a good reason

to�celebrate,�huh,�big�guy?

I was just pausing
for dramatic effect.

The end of that sentence is:
but what does it matter?

Because my wife
and the love of my life,

- two different people...
- Of course.

- Are dead.
- Yeah.

And Larry's dead, which I
wouldn't feel either way about

except it fucked
my whole plan for LA.

No, no, no, you guys aren't
gonna suck me into this.

You need to compartmentalize
that shit, okay?

It's fun time!
We're gonna have fun!

Guys, you don't see me
moping around

just�because�I�lost�my�label,

which was the most
professionally fulfilled

I've ever been
in my entire life.

That's�true.

And arguably took
my entire life to build.

Oh,�God�damn�it.

Merry triple Xmas.

Let's�get�Mo�some

hos,�hos,�ho...

Wow.

I�was�gonna�say�who�died,

but that would be
in poor taste.

So�instead�I�just...

- Said it anyway?
- Mm.

And�whose�Rolls-Royce�is�that?

Oh.�That�Rolls�is�mine.

Y'all remember how we found
Lenny all chopped up to pieces

before he could sign the papers
to give Mo his label back?

You mean the most traumatic
thing we've all experienced.

Yeah, you mean when I had a
fucking dead dick in my hand?

Exposition,�exposition.

Well, that was also
before he could sign the papers

that would reverse the last
birthday gift he gave me,

namely�his�name.

He had his parents
posthumously adopt me.

So you got parents now.
Congrats.

I�really�don't�care,�Keith.

You're always into
some freaky shit.

So I am the only living
Leighman brother left,

which means I inherited
The Whole Enchilada,

which is their
Mexican fast-food chain,

and�also

the Leighman Brothers
entire operation.

- Oh, my God.
- Holy shit.

And my first act as
acting president and CEO is...

To�give�me�my�label�back.

And give me my freedom
so I can start a label in LA?

Yes and yes.

Along with giving myself

whatever the fuck I want.
And my kids too.

I actually rented out
FAO Schwarz

for�an�entire�weekend.

I didn't even know
you could do that.

And�Shira?

- She forgave me.
- Who cares?

Well, I wouldn't start
ski poling each other just yet.

Ski�poling?

It's like when you're sitting
in between two guys

and you take their dicks
and then you just go.

Oh.

Was that on the table?

Need I remind you that none
of this is going to matter

because someone
is trying to kill us?

Well,�not�to�be�a�dick,

but, uh...

I think they're primarily
trying to kill you.

No. Wayne's limo could
have been for all of us.

And what about Larry?
I mean, you got to admit,

it seems like somebody
is trying to kill anyone

who is close
to the Jammer Group.

- Or anyone who's close to you.
- Of course.

You�ruined�my�life.

Why would you care
if someone took it?

Thanks for understanding,
Blair.

Okay, who is up
for that drinking game?

- Ooh, better yet.
- Uh...

Anybody interested
in a sniffing game?

- Let's do it.
- Sniffing game!

Okay,�listen.

To be honest, it's not just Mo
who ruined your life.

We all are responsible for
you being in this situation.

And�I,�for�one,�am�sorry.

I�wanna�help�get�you�out�of�it.

Thank you, Dawn.

Okay,�fine.

I mean,
I guess we all do owe you

or whatever the fuck,
all right?

You know, even though
it's my bachelor party,

let's put
all of our heads together

and try to catch
whoever the fuck it is

who's�trying�to�take�Blair�out.

In�the�form�of�a�drinking�game.

- Ha-ha!
- Yes!

- Okay.
- Oh, we're gonna get fucked up.

If�it's�about�me,�I'll�play.

It was a vicious attack.

He'll still require
extensive surgery

to�repair�his�vocal�chords,

what's left of his penis,
scrotum, anus.

But...

It's a Christmas miracle
he's still alive.

That was no miracle.
You saved this man's life.

A�44-hour�operation,

anyone else would have
given up, but you?

I took an oath, Gene.
I never give up on a patient.

Okay, the secret
to a perfect sting

is�paying�attention�to...

Wait.
Who are we even stinging?

We don't know
who the killer is.

Yeah, all we know is
that he...

- Or she.
- Really?

I'm just saying,
we won't know we're equal

until people are as terrified
of women as men.

First of all, questioning
the master of ceremonies

- is a drink.
- Oh!

Okay.
What are the rules?

Uh-oh.

Ask me a question, Blair.
Naughty, naughty. Drink.

Yeah,�yeah.

So what?
Just everything is a drink?

Keith is catching on.

You know what that means?
Drink.

Drink.

Guys, you're overthinking it.
All we need to do

is get all of us together
in one place,

and we wait for the killer
to make his or her move

and then...
catch him in the act.

- Of killing one of us?
- Yeah.

I mean,
preferably before that.

Okay, so it's a trap
and we're the bait.

I like to refer to it
as a non-sexual honeypot.

Everything's
a fucking honeypot.

- Okay, but where do we do it?
- Mo's wedding tomorrow.

- It's perfect.
- Hang on a second.

Oh, my gosh, yeah,
we'll all be together.

Yeah,�you're�right,�great�idea.

- No, no, wait...
- Oh, my God, yes.

And the killer will know
exactly where it is

since you blasted your business
all over The New York Times

like a couple
of yuppie shitheads.

I happen to think
the picture of Nomi and I

riding�sidesaddle�is�cute.

Ugh.

And I can get the FBI
to stake it out

because I'm gonna be
the next vice president.

Guys,�I-I�don't�know

if I'm into turning my wedding
into a fucking...

Oh, Mo, this was such
a good idea.

I�feel�better�already.

- It wasn't my idea to do...
- Top-notch work.

Okay, fine. Fuck it.
We'll do it at the wedding.

As long as we call it
a non-sexual honeypot.

Fine. Do you think that
you will be able to get Nomi

on board
with a non-sexual honeypot?

Get Nomi on board? This one.

What�are�you�talking�about?

Look, I know who wears
the pants in the family,

and she better know who wears
the pants in the family.

We're not gonna start off
on some pussyfoot,

if�you�know�what�I�mean.

I'm�not�gonna�tell�Nomi.

- Bitch-ass.
- Yeah, smart.

You know, Dawn says
she's a real twat.

I�think�this�could�really�work.

I'm gonna call Werner
and get him on the FBI.

Well, dammit,
I can't get a signal.

- Pull up that little antenna.
- That way.

- Mm-mm.
- No.

Try�out�back�by�the�road.

All right.
Thanks, guys.

- Problem solved.
- I'll be right back.

Okay,�c'mon.

Who wants some pills
and coke and cough syrup?

Pills and coke
and cough syrup

- I love pills.
- Me too.

- Not to be a buzz kill...
- And yet you are.

Except that is your entire
reason for being on the planet.

But if you think putting us
all in one place

will tempt the killer
into making a move,

aren't we all
in one place right now?

Specifically one spooky,
secluded cabin

in the middle
of the fucking woods?

Just�make�a�point.

Wait, uh...
He's right, Mo.

I mean, we are kinda like
sitting ducks.

Take�it�from�me.

If someone wants to kill us,
the woods are a perfect place.

Jesus Christ.
You guys, calm down.

There's nothing
to be afraid of.

Okay,�okay.

Listen,
I am not personally afraid.

And I don't think anything
is gonna happen.

That being said, maybe we just
take some precautions

and,�you�know,�fortify�the�crib

just for you guys,
for you guys.

And�I-I-I,�too,�am�not�afraid.

But it's your party, Mo,
so whatever you say goes.

And for those who are afraid
like Keith...

- Yeah, Keith.
- Well, it makes perfect sense.

I'm probably the least scared
of anyone, if we're comparing,

but maybe it could be fun
to see

how safe we could actually
make this place.

Yeah, right?

Oh, God!

- Everybody grab a weapon!
- Oh, God!

We're all gonna die!
Hit the floor!

Okay now tell us
the next letter.

E.

He's just confused
from the trauma.

John Doe here will tell us
his name

when�he's�good�and�ready.

Okay.

I got two cans of paint
and a tub of tar!

I got a bunch of ugly-ass
Christmas ornaments

and�a�hand�torch.

Nails,
toy cars for some reason.

Why don't you have
any fucking weapons?

Oh,�I'm�sorry,�Keith,�I�keep

- my weapons in New York City.
- Oh, my God.

You know, the most dangerous
fucking city in the world.

- I don't wanna die.
- Okay. All right.

I�just�got�generational�wealth.

You're not gonna fucking die
tonight.

- All right, guys. Okay, guys.
- Will you calm down?

Well, then how are we gonna
defend ourselves

- with this shit...
- Guys!

Jesus.
I got an idea.

Oh.
Come on, come on, come on,

come�on,�come�on,�come�on,

come on, come on, come on,
come on.

- Hello.
- Werner. Yes.

I think I finally figured out
how to catch my killer.

- Who is this?
- Blair.

- Blair who?
- Pfaff.

How�many�Blairs�do�you�know

have people trying
to kill them?

Blair Regan Bogan,
my ex-girlfriend.

She slept with my step-brother
and I want her dead.

And�you�thought�I�was�her?

She�has�a�very�deep,�gay�voice.

Look,
I need you to call the FBI

and get them to stake out
Mo's wedding tomorrow.

I have a very good feeling
my killer is gonna be there.

Well, I mean, technically
it's a bad feeling,

but either way,
we can put the thing to bed.

Question.

What makes you think the FBI
wants to do shit for you?

Mm, I don't know,
maybe because I'm going to be

the next vice president
of the United States.

No, you're not.

You're�done,�Blair.

So�you're�ready?

Oh,�yeah.

Think we're gonna be able
to take him.

Or�her.

Well, thanks
for being an ally,

but I meant, you know,
to get married.

Assuming�we�survive�tonight.

Yeah, yeah.
I think so.

I mean, I'm not in my 40s
anymore,

is something I'm gonna be
saying in 11 short years.

Oh.
She's lucky.

Bitch.

Yeah.
I'm just shocked.

That you're tying the knot?
I think we all are.

No, no.
I'm...

I'm�shocked�it's�not�you.

Yeah.

We should, uh...

Yeah,�it's�finished.

- Okay.
- Okay, careful.

- Okay.
- Watch the glass.

Surprise, surprise.

I did everything the RNC
asked me to do.

How can they drop me after
everything I've been through?

Yeah, that's why
they're dropping you.

'Cause people around you
are dropping like flies

at�a�free�urology�clinic.

All these deaths have
a tipping point.

No president wants a VP
with such liability.

Bush�has�enough�liability

with his cocaine-addicted
dumbfuck son.

You know what? Good.

I don't want that job.
Politics suck shit.

It's�just�a�bunch�of�losers

who couldn't get laid
in high school

punishing�everyone�who�did.

I wanna do something
important and good

with my life from now on,
for real.

But�in�the�meantime,�that�said,

the least you could do
is call the FBI

and have them do this
for me tomorrow.

- No, I can't.
- Why?

Because I don't work
for the RNC anymore.

My internship is done.
I'm back at college.

Okay? There's literally
nothing I could do.

Wait. You never
actually worked for the RNC?

Well, technically I got credit
towards my Poli Sci minor but...

Minor?
What was your major?

Physical Education.

I also host a comedy night
at the union once a month,

which you would know
had you asked me

one question about myself
literally ever.

- Well, that was intentional.
- You know what?

Even if I could call the FBI,
I wouldn't

'cause you deserve to die,
you selfish prick.

Hey, but look me up
if you're ever in Bloomington

looking for a laugh.

Werner!

Happy�Valentine's�Day.

I got all of
your favorites here.

The Times, the Journal.
Rob Report.

And your oatmeal
is just the way you like it.

Half�steel-cut,�half�instant.

Mixie-dixie.

All right,
here comes the airplane.

C'mon, you gotta eat.

Hey!

I'm not giving up,
so neither can you.

I know rehab
can be frustrating,

but�we're�in�this�together.

You�and�me...

John�Doe.

What the fuck?

Is�that�tar?

What�the�fuck�is�going�on?

I�couldn't�stay�away.

I've been thinking
about you all night, and...

maybe there's something
I can do to

make�you�more�comfortable.

Do�you�trust�me,�John?

Uh-huh.

I�know.

It�looks�worse�than�it�is.

But with the groundbreaking
graft work we've done,

it should still be possible
for you to...

experience�pleasure.

Would�you�like�me�to�show�you?

Uh-huh.

Oh, my God.
The killer is here, isn't she?

It's not a fucking girl.
Stop saying that.

Then who was just screaming
like that?

Why�would�a�killer�scream?

Then�who�was�screaming?

It�was�probably�Blair.

- Oh, my God.
- Oh, God.

Blair�is�dead,�isn't�he?

- Oh, no.
- Oh, I'm scared, Mo.

It's okay.
No, really, shh, shh.

No really...

Oh,�Jesus.�Ugh.

Oh, my God!

- Yassir?
- Oh, my God.

What the hell
are you doing here, man?

I was going to
your fucking bachelor party!

Dude, you're fucking up
all of our booby traps.

Why�do�you�have�booby�traps?

'Cause whoever's trying
to kill Blair and us

is�potentially�out�there.

Oh, my God, of course.
This is where they do it.

- Oh, shit.
- Oh, shit.

- Motherfucker.
- Blair! You're alive!

I'm�alive!

I'm sorry.
I heard screaming.

I thought you guys were
getting killed.

That was me.
I have glass in my feet.

I�can�honestly�say

this is the most pain I've
ever been in in my entire life.

- Spoke too soon.
- Okay.

How�many�paint�cans�are�there?

- Uh.
- Uh...

- Three.
- Three. Okay.

So one, there's two,
and then there's...

Oh,�no!

Three.

You�fuckers�are�crafty.

You kinda brought
that one on yourself

with�the�whole�countdown�thing.

I'm sorry I laughed.

I shouldn't have
laughed at that.

You'd have known
the shit was coming

if you hadn't fucking
lied about

going to see Home Alone.

Who... gives a fuck
if I saw Home Alone?

All you people do is fucking
lie all day about everything!

I�don't�put�glass�in�your�feet

or fucking hit y'all
with paint cans.

- Oh, well, excuse us.
- Take it easy, bro.

- "Take it easy, bruh."
- Okay.

The good news is,
the killer's not here.

So that's good.

- Who the fuck is that?
- Oh, shit.

Okay, okay, everyone you
invited is here, right, Mo?

Yeah.

Holy shit!

Oh,�we're�gonna�die!

Shut the fucking door!
Shut the door!

- Get the goddamn door!
- Come on!

Come on.

That's it.

You're getting stronger
every day, Johnny.

And you just keep it up

and you'll be walking
and talking in no time.

See, you're doing it.

Oh,�look�at�you.

Better and better.
Look at that form.

Look�at�my�man�go.

Yes.

Yes,�you're�doing�it.

Me�too,�babe.

I just wanna say,
I'm still not scared.

- No. No one's scared.
- I'm not scared.

But I also wanna say that
I'm very sorry for anything

that I might have done
to any of you, ever.

- Same.
- Same, yeah.

- I'm not sorry for shit.
- I'm gonna have glass stuck

in my foot for the rest
of my fucking life.

- What are you talking about?
- Well, fucking deal with it.

Oh, gosh.

Mo?

Nomi?

I thought this was
a bachelor party.

Are y'all playing
flashlight tag or what?

No.

The�power�just�went�out.

False�alarm,�everybody.

Told you, nothing to be
scared of,

fucking pussies.

Hey, what's going on?
Why are you here, babe?

Oh, I didn't wanna
interrupt your party,

but I need to talk to you
and Dawn before the wedding.

Talk-talk to Dawn?
Why?

I,�um...

I'm�going�to�Varnish.

- Great, so am I.
- You are?

Yeah. Keith,
he got Mo his label back,

so�we're�good�to�go.

I'm Keith.
That's my Rolls out front.

- Wait. You didn't know that?
- Yeah.

That�motherfucker.

Has�Arnie�been�calling�you?

I'm-I'm�sorry.

I'm Blair.
Hi.

Congratulations
on the engagement.

Can someone fill me in
on what we're talking about?

Who is Arnie?
What is Varnish?

Other than the shit
that hit Yassir in the face.

Asshole.

Arnie Markowitz
is the very attractive,

very sexual, very cool owner
of Varnish Records.

Okay.

And that's why Dawn's
been fucking him.

Oh. Atta girl.

But now it seems like
maybe Nomi's fucking the guy.

- What?
- What the fuck?

What the fuck
did you just say?

- It's a theory.
- I've always hated you.

No. We were just
talking about my career.

Oh.
Well, I'm sorry.

How it would be better if I got
started with a bigger label.

But I'll never forget
what you did for me, Dawn.

Damn, Dawn,
I think you just got dumped.

And�I'm�moving�to�LA.

Wait.�Wait.�What?

I�told�you�she�was�a�twat.

I'm�sorry,�but�Arnie�says

it's where all
the opportunities are.

But we can try to make it work,
long distance.

S-sure.

I�mean,�a�lot�of...

A lot of marriages start
bicoastal, right?

But�in�light�of�everything,

maybe we should just push
the wedding back a little bit.

Well,�I'm�sorry.

Sorry?

- Come here.
- Yeah?

- Goodbye.
- Mm.

Bye,�Nomi.

- Ooh.
- Oof.

After�endless�surgeries

and�countless�hours�of�rehab,

I think that you are
finally ready.

Behold,�my�masterpiece.

- Eh.
- Eh? What do you mean?

- Move!
- No!

No,�wait.

Johnny, you're beautiful.
Don't go!

Wait!
Johnny!

My�name... is�Lenny.

No.�No.

Don't go.
Please!

I can't believe she broke up
with us both.

- Hard.
- Right?

I'm�sorry.

I'm�sorry.

Well, at least it can't get
any worse. Am I right?

Why the fuck would
you say that?

- Way to ride the broom.
- Jinx!

Here's something bad
in three, two, one.

Hey!
See? Some good luck.

Earlier today,

a titan of
the financial industry

made a most shocking
announcement.

Reports of my death
have been greatly exaggerated.

Tha... tha...

That's�right.

It's�me,�Lenny.

It�has�been�widely�believed

that I was crushed
on Black Monday,

only to survive long enough
to make some very...

stupid trade deals
before being left for dead

- at Wolf Lake.
- That's impossible.

Well, I am here
to set the record straight.

Not�crushed�nor�eaten.

Still very much in control
of the Leighman Brothers.

- Oh, God.
- Furthermore,

any affiliation
with the village idiot,

Keith Shankar,
shall be terminated.

Fuck!

Along with anyone else
who has ever crossed me.

Oh,�fuck,�oh,�fuck,�oh,�fuck!

I think that one...
That was good, right?

We got that one.
I feel good about that one.

- I think we got it.
- Hey. Wait a minute, guys.

Look, this might be
good news after all.

Mo,�how?

Well, at least we know
who the fucking killer is now.

And�Blair,�probably�right.

- I am?
- He was after all of us.

And�Lord�knows�we�deserve�it.

Well.

And I'll tell you
something else.

I'm not going out like that.
We ain't going out like that.

Yeah!

Especially not to some
bitch-ass brotherfucker.

Fuck him!
He's a fucking nerd!

Yeah,�in�fucking�glasses.

With�glasses,�exactly.

Some�white�boy.

Last�time�I�looked,

everybody in this fucking room
is a killer.

Blair,�you�killed�Jammer.

Yeah.

And�arguably�your�boyfriend.

Keith,
you almost killed this guy.

You�did�your�best.

Yassir,�you're�a�pacifist.

And�Dawn,�you...

You know how many people died
during Black Monday?

- So many!
- So many!

- Yes.
- And also Spencer killed

himself�after�you�left�him.

Wait.�Wait.�What,�what?

- I thought I told you that.
- No, no.

Okay, well, he killed himself
after you left him.

What I'm saying is
we've all killed.

At least all of you
have killed somebody.

We're supposed to be
scared at him?

He better be
fucking scared of us.

I'm fucking coked out
of my mind

even�though�I'm,�like,�chill.

And I'm ready
to fucking kill this guy.

Exactly.

For Blair, for Tiff,
for Wayne,

for other people whose names
are not as significant

and I cannot remember
at this exact moment!

Yes!

We're gonna take
this motherfucker down

- once and for all...
- Yeah!

- At my wedding!
- Yeah!

Yes!
Uh-oh.

Okay, I hate to kill the vibe,
but Mo, there's no wedding.

Nomi's gone, remember?
She left you.

She's�outta�here.

Yeah.�I'm�sorry,�again.

Unless...

Dawn, will you fake marry me?

You?�Why?

Look, I was already
getting married, okay?

We don't have to throw out
the bride and the groom.

Well, I'm the only one with
actual sham wedding experience.

Uh,�beg�to�differ�there.

Shut the fuck up, Keith.

Um...

Oh, I'm torn!
I don't know!

Okay.

I can't marry a white man,
real or fake, so.

Prejudice wins again.

Get the fuck out of here.
Boom.

Congratulations.

Dawn...

- My dear old friend.
- Mm.

- Didn't mean it like that.
- Okay.

Will�you�fake�marry�me?

- Fake?
- Yeah, fake.

- You all heard fake, right?
- Fake.

- Okay.
- Everybody heard me say fake.

- Yes.
- Yes?

I will fake marry you!

- Well...
- High five, then.

- Okay.
- All right.

Homeboy.

�� Daisy,�Daisy ��

�� Give�me�your�answer�do ��

�� I'm�half�crazy ��

�� All�for�the�love�of�you ��

�� It won't be ��
�� a stylish marriage ��

�� I�can't�afford�a�carriage ��

�� But you'll look sweet ��
�� upon the seat ��

�� Of�a�bicycle�built�for�two ��

�� Daisy,�Daisy ��

�� Give�me�your�answer�do ��

�� I'm�half�crazy ��

�� All�for�the�love�of�you ��

�� It won't be ��
�� a stylish marriage ��

�� I�can't�afford�a�carriage ��

�� But you'll look sweet ��
�� upon the seat ��

�� Of�a�bicycle�built�for�two ��