Original subtitles

♪

[video game blipping]

Ah. So good. [slurps]

Ollie, have a sip of this coffee.

It'll make you play faster, better.

Eh, coffee gives you doo-doo breath.

Debbie, why so down in the dumps?

You're usually on your third beer

after your third appetizer.

This weekend is the death day anniversary

of her mama... aka "Mama."

Wait, you don't have your mother living and working

with you all the time?

Is it great?

Well, uh, everyone, you know, says

Mama was some kind of saint. [laughs]

I mean, I didn't see her that way,

but Daddie's still faithful to her.

Deb's mom was Miss Arkansas for a solid decade.

Tell Gwen about the deathbed wish.

-Deathbed wish? -It's stupid!

Every year on Mama's death day,

my sister and dad and me are supposed to travel

to Mama's hometown, and on the way

we're supposed to each eat a whole barbecued chicken,

a whole huckleberry pie, and then wash it down

with a whole liter of whole milk; each of us!

It's a mandatory annual family ritual,

which Debbie ignores.

My sister and dad go every year. I don't get that.

Or them, frankly, at all.

-So I've never gone. -No, not good, no.

You must. It bring the living together.

Whoa, Grandma Dang. [scoffs]

I liked it better when you were a woman of few words.

Well, it is the 25th anniversary.

Wait. You all think I should go on this trip

with my nemesis sister and my disapproving dad

to worship my long-dead, unknowable,

narcissistic mother?

Mm.

-[entry bells jingle] -Hey, guys.

Buck Mastiff, the celebrated author

of Bitch by the Sea, he's doing a reading.

So... [chuckles]

Freddie wants to get a shitty book signed

by its shitty author.

Well, sorry if books are just over your stupid head, Tonya.

All right, guys, let's go.

"So she felt about the sea.

"She felt with her bosom.

She was angry. She was the bitch."

-[soft applause] -Oh, my God, yeah.

-Yeah. -Ugh!

Thank you. Thanks. Also, great news.

My new sequel to Bitch drops this summer.

It's titled Windswept Dick. Yeah.

Whoo!

Commercial fiction is only about the money.

Never about the art.

Gregpeck Blinko, you're the literary critic.

What do you think?

Great literature isn't some escape or entertainment.

It's a spell. It's-it's an incantation.

It's beyond characters and plot.

[grunting]

True lit makes the reader solve the riddle

of their own life and death.

Oh, I was just about to say the exact same thing.

I mean...

Yes. Take this drivel, for example, Bitch by the Sea.

It's just not lit.

Oh, I know. Such drivel.

You know, driveling is what it is. [weak chuckle]

Still, Bitch by the Sea knows its place

as nothing more than a beach read.

No, it's not like it's trying to be The Killing Bush

or something.

Yes. The Killing Bush is awesome.

Oh, you've read it?

Yeah. Oh, yeah. Sure.

Well, I haven't read it. It's just too inaccessible,

-even for me. -Eh, it's impossible.

It's impenetrable.

It's rare to find someone with a scholarly background

deep enough to wade through the depth

of The Killing Bush.

Although I've read the book many times,

me being its primary critic,

I still long to know its true meeting.

Good luck with that.

The author is notoriously reclusive.

Oh, Dear Dr. Morocco, don't you know I know that?

Still, Gbenge,

where have you been hiding this charming man?

We two literary adventurers should set aside time

to discuss The Killing Bush.

Huh.

Yay! [groans]

FREDDIE: This crappy book is insane!

[Debbie laughs]

Oh, you laugh, but it's impossible.

I mean, it demands the reader know about

ancient Egyptians,

and a hell of a lot about shrubbery, for some reason.

You could just fess up.

But if I make the lie real,

then everything will be okay, right?

I'll be friends with Gbenge and those cool people.

Meanwhile, in my life, I am dreading this trip

with my dad and Brenna.

Look, babe, what if... I don't know,

you try to get to know 'em.

No. It's not about them.

It's about Mama.

I just happen to remember her

way differently than everyone else.

Yeah, you're right. Yeah.

You should probably go in with your mind closed, babe.

[Freddie mutters]

Well, well, well,

the prodigal daughter finally joins us.

Deb, you look very fall for April.

You look very asshole for today.

Debbie, don't come causing trouble.

It's time again to honor your mother

with this annual road trip

across the natural state of Arkansas.

Yeehaw!

First up on Mama's death request travel menu:

the whole chicken.

You remember coming here when we was on Mama's

beauty pageant circuit across the state?

-[stomach gurgles] -Oh. Gotta shit.

[sighs]

♪

[laughing]

Put the cap on the spark plug, turn the key.

-Whoa. -Spins and fires a spark, boom.

Wow.

-Mama, look. -Not now, Little Debbie.

That's Daddie stuff. Shoo.

-Aw... -Ha ha.

Mmm.

[slurping]

Damn, that chicken is good.

-[phone vibrating] -Oop. Excuse me, girls.

-Wonder who's calling Daddie. -Wonder where your chicken is.

I've actually already eaten my chicken

while Daddie was in the bathroom,

and you were in your weird and long reverie.

I-I don't understand this.

Dad, I'm so focused it's insane.

Look, do me a favor and drink some water, okay?

I can focus because I'm off water.

Hydration test.

See, you're dehydrated. Go drink.

Dad, I need some cash for more Vietnamese coffee.

I'm better with it. I'm only me with it.

I'm only whole with it.

Kids, I'm trying to read!

I'm supposed to meet up with Gregpeck Blinko and Gbenge

-on Sunday to discuss it. -[door opens]

I got to focus, okay?

[gasps] Tonya!

Oh, my God. What if I weren't dressed?

I need to borrow Debbie's chugging funnel.

What's that? Can I drink coffee with it?

Sure, kid, whatever.

It's your mom's favorite invention of hers.

Well, you don't know Debbie like I do,

because she's long since thrown that thing out.

-Now, look, I gotta read. -Found it.

I knew she'd stash it.

Yeah, um, she and I are the real partners here.

Oh, really? Okay, so what's Ollie's middle name?

Who is Ollie?

Our kid, you self-absorbed drunk.

Trick question. Her name is Hobby.

Hiss! I don't need the sexually rampant,

drunken veterinarian searching my house

for addiction devices. [hisses]

I got reading to do.

All right, kids, look.

I gotta make my lie about reading this book true

by maybe telling a few more little lies, okay?

Step two: the huckleberry pie.

This is for you, Mama, my one and only.

Um, I think I'm gonna take mine outside,

or eat it in the car.

Aha! I knew you've been lying about eating all this shit.

[gasps]

Have you been faking it all these years?!

Ugh, you're ruining this trip on purpose

to prove the point that deathbed wishes are bad.

-Shame on... -Get... to eating.

Get out of my face.

Girls. Girls, stop! Stop it.

This is supposed to be a sacred time

to honor your perfect mother.

Cow! Cow! Cow! Cow! Cow! Cow!

-[all screaming] -[tires screeching]

-Oh. Huh. -[panting]

Is everybody okay?

Who the hell have you been texting and calling

this whole trip? [grunts]

Oh, my God, who is this

ancient hussy sending you nudes?

What on earth?

That's private. Give me that.

Give me that.

How long has this been going on?

I said it's private.

So this is the home of the author

of your unreadable book?

Ollie, you gotta drink some water, baby.

And his name is Roderick Downship.

Dad, your sad little plan has some serious holes in it.

It'll work, Mr. Stickler.

[doorbell rings]

Go away. No interviews, thank you.

Oh, no, no, no, no. I'm from the cemetery.

There's a problem with your plot,

the one you reserved for yourself. Mm-hmm.

Oh?

Yes, I'm afraid.

Your plot has accidentally been used

to perma-plant the bones of all the Kennedys.

Oh, no, no. That will not do.

Come in. Come in and we can, we can discuss this.

Okay, Mr. Downship, I-I lied.

I-I need to know why you wrote The Killing Bush

and what it means. Please!

[groans] Out you go.

I don't mess with groupies.

Wait, no, uh, people will die

if you don't give me an explanation

of your mysterious masterpiece.

Listen, uh... it's literary terrorists!

Not those.

They got to Pynchon. They got to Salinger.

So far, I've been lucky.

Right. Exactly. Yes.

So those same terrorists that fucked

those pals that you just mentioned,

they're holding my family captive.

-No. -Yes. They made me

get a meeting with you, sir,

-the ventilated... -Venerated.

...author of The Killing Bush.

If you tell me what the book means,

then I-I can go free my family.

Hmm. I will help you.

-But in person. -[gasps]

I demand to be taken to those terrorists

so that I can do the honorable thing:

trade myself and my secret of The Killing Bush

for your family.

Yes, yes, yes.

Okay, great, but-- smallest caveat--

give me an hour, and then come by my house, okay?

We have the whole milk

with the hint of Bermuda grass and dandelion.

-Enjoy. -Brenna...

I know you're not doing these food promises to Mama.

And I know you're only here to ruin this for me and Daddie.

Drink it, Bren.

See, Debbie? She...

[gags]

-[whimpering] -[server gasps]

Fine! It's true, all right?

I've always faked eating all of Mama's deathbed requests.

It's just too much.

I want to stay thin, like Mama.

I knew it! [scoffs]

You have always tried to be just like Mama

so you could steal Daddie away from me.

I never really even had Mama's love, Brenna.

I only had Daddie's, and then you started being

just like Mama after she died,

so then you got both their love, and I got nothing!

You stole Daddie, and I hate you for it!

[sobbing]

[all gasp]

If that is how you planned it to go,

then you are a horrible person.

Oh, my God, here she comes, finally.

Remember, show submissiveness.

Let Tonya feel superior.

[raspy voice]: Just be nice and cool and honest.

All right, what's all this about, shithead?

Well, Tonya, I need you to pretend to be

a literary terrorist that's holding my family hostage

so that an elderly nut-bar author

can mutter to you his secret motives and meanings

behind his insane book so that you can then

tell me what he said so that I can then tell

a very cool critic so that I can look smart,

and he will be my friend,

along with the other snobby people

that hang around with Gbenge,

who is the real person I'm trying to impress

because he's smart and cool.

[laughing]

Oh, ho, ho, goddamn.

Why should I help you do all that?

I knew you'd be a shit about this,

you sex-addicted booze hound.

Let me tell you something, Freddie.

I have two advanced degrees,

and I am the top vet in this town.

Am I a confident, intelligent, sexually progressive woman?

Of course. Have I dated across the spectrum

because I have no interest in your lockdown married life?

Sure. Am I also a mess?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

But stop reducing me to my parts.

Okay, deal. I'll do that,

and I won't get in the way

of you and Debbie's friend-shit. Ship!

[laughter]

Hi.

Hey there, Daddie Dan.

-Here we go, hey. -Oh, my gosh.

It's noon. We gotta start.

Just like my sister, your Mama, used to like.

A little here. A little...

-Okay, looks good. -Freddie,

-Hobby looks dry, man. -[Ollie moans]

Okay, okay, here he comes. All right, remember

anything the author says.

I demand you let these people go

in trade for me and my secrets. Deal?

Oh, tough guy, huh?

We'll see about that

-after I torture the shit... -Uh, pardon me.

Uh, terrorist, you said you only wanted

the secret meaning of The Killing Bush,right?

Oh, yes, that's right.

That's why I did all this.

Okay, so tell me now.

I will, but in private.

Now we'd love to hear any testimonials

for the wonderful-- pardon me for tearing up--

the perfect, the sweetest of all sweeteners,

Mama McCallister.

Your mama was a warm, regal, confident woman

who possessed a rare, reassuring calm. A goddess.

Yes, indeed. She was a saint of a mama.

Your mama spoke her mind,

but she was kind and sweet; a miracle.

Mama knew exactly what to say and what to do

to get what she wanted.

Like you, Brenna.

[others crying]

You know, I, uh...

I guess I do miss Mama.

I recall her being self-absorbed, demanding,

and not at all warm and fuzzy.

[all gasp]

Whoa, whoa, it takes dedication

to be a beauty queen. You gotta...

I'm sorry. I know you all don't agree,

but that's my truth, and I had to say it.

She made fun of me all the time.

She was feared by all of us

because she was the alpha female, and mean.

She was a bitch. Competitive. Narcissistic.

Driven!

Thank you, thank you, Aunt Sadness.

Your mama used to say, "Turn heads, not stomachs."

She made us all eat fattening stuff in front of her

so she could watch.

She only ate carrots.

Yes. Yes! Mom did do that.

-[laughter] -[others agreeing]

Wow. It wasn't just me?

You all had the same experiences

with Mama that I did?

-Mm-hmm. -Mm-hmm.

Oh, I...

I guess I'm not as much of an outsider

to this family as I thought.

And I guess I have a lot more in common with Mama

than I'd care to admit. Oof. Damn.

[clears throat] Okay, here it comes.

Um... Shit!

Bren, Daddie, I see now that this whole thing

is not about Mama.

Nope. It's about us, guys.

She knew it would bring us and keep us together.

So get a glass. Get one! Okay.

-To Mama! -To Mama.

-Cheers. -Long live Mama.

Hold still.

-Drink it. Drink it! -No!

I'm smarter undiluted.

[gasps] Did he explain the book?

Yeah. He was just a dirty old man.

I mean, he just kept describing

what he thought my bush looked like.

He kept saying how he wanted to be buried in it,

-like a pharaoh in a pyramid. -Ugh.

He muttered that shit over and over,

saying that that's the secret truth

he wanted to get across in the book.

Whoa, let me get this straight.

Were you showing him your privates?

No. But he did die saying, "Pussy."

What?! He died?!

-[panting] -[chuckles]

It's so fun to watch your dad sweat.

Right, Hobby? Tosh.

Sorry for...

maybe ruining your trip.

No, I apologize.

After Mama died,

I did gravitate to Brenna,

because she reminded me so much of Mama.

And as you grew, you became more and more like me,

-which I didn't like. -[sighs]

You didn't like me.

No, silly, I love you.

I didn't want to be reminded of me.

I felt bad for moving on with my life with other women.

So I-I kept it from y'all, and I just...

Yeah, yeah, I get that, Daddie.

I love you, too. It's okay.

So come on, tell me. What about this new woman?

Oh. We met in the john. She's a cougar.

She's got melons, and we both like to camp.

Well, text her some gross shit.

I'm gonna go make up with Brenna.

BRENNA: Why? What's the matter?

Still got sand in your satchel?

Brenna, I went too far with what I said at the dairy.

And I didn't even mean what I said. I'm sorry.

You did mean some of it.

I say we share the big old fart.

Right?

[gasps] You know what?

I see now that Mama had us eat

because she wouldn't.

She was always trying to stay fit

for her beauty contests,

which meant more to her than anything.

Even us, sometimes.

And she was competitive with us.

So she was trying to keep us fat,

even after she was dead.

Wow. You might actually be right.

I guess you can't ever really know

why people do what they do. Right?

Yeah, but-- huh?--

we can get closer, like we did on this trip.

You can't shortcut a hard book,

and you can't shortcut hard relationships.

[blows raspberry]

It's like we were all each other's Killing Bush.

-What? -What?

Another dead body at this house?

Oh, my God, it's Roderick Downship.

Frederick, you knew him?

Oh, of course Freddie knew him.

Roderick was his English tutor.

They were planning to surprise you.

Ah, yes, yes, that's true, but alas,

Father Time struck again, you know. [chuckles]

The greatest author of the greatest book just died

in this very house.

And I was his greatest critic.

I demand to know the secret of the book.

Well, The Killing Bush is a metaphor

for a vagina,

which is the cradle of life,

like the place of the birth of civilization.

Which is the Fertile Crescent and ancient Egypt.

It's like how a baby's head is held in the cervix,

formed in the cervix, and how the head of the penis

returns over and over through the bushy

vagina of life...

is The Killing Bush.

[crying]

[laughing]

I now die of enlightenment.

[gurgles]

Oh, shit.

Yeah, I should have known we'd need a second ambulance

at the Harper House.

Man, oh, man.

Hey, so maybe you and I can grab a beer

and hang, you know.

Yeah, uh-huh. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sure.

-Wow. -All right, I'm out.

I'm Tonya. This is the guy

you wanted to impress so bad that you had me

and your kids lie for you

about you having read that book?

Next time you men do a book club, call me.

I did one of my dissertations on The Killing Bush

and hostile POVs towards women in postmodern meta-fiction.

Ha, that Tonya, she's-- I'm sorry.

Yes! Kids! Freddie!

-Yes. -Family! Mmm.

-[mumbling gibberish] -Hey...

[grunts] I missed you.

Dad teamed up with Tonya,

and they killed two men while you were gone.

Gotcha. Skeletons still here?

No. Got the morgue on speed dial. Yeah.

Uh-huh. Cool. Wait.

Wait, wait, wait, you partnered up with Tonya?

My Tonya?

We learned a lot about each other.

Okay...

Okay. All right.

Oh, Ollie, you gotta hydrate, honey.

Nope.

Dude, you got doo-doo breath

from getting too dry.

What? I can't have that.

[normal voice]: Oh, Mom, you know just what to say.

Oh, boy.

Todd, you also have doo-doo breath

from all that coffee. Ugh.

Look, I got some caffeine patches from a truck stop.

That should help wean you off.

Oh, yes.

And, Freddie, you get...

[moans]

...in that kitchen, please, and fix me something to eat.

I'm dying.

Sounds great, babe. Back to normal.

♪

Good. I'm still the beauty of the family.

Chirp.

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