Original subtitles

Previously on Velma.

Guilty.

Based on what?

I'm saving money to hire a private investigator

to find my biological family.

Norville, guess what Daphne gave me?

Uh, is it mononucleosis?

Because I saw you two kiss last night.

Honestly, I think what I really need is a friend.

Me too.

But also maybe a friend who found who...

No.

Let's just keep it simple and try and be friends again.

Yeah, you're right.

Now, this may be hard to believe,

but I was never that popular.

I just never seemed to really fit in

with the other girls.

Ugh, weirdo.

Which was fine.

I always took pride in not fitting the mold.

Oh God!

And while you'd think a brush with a serial killer

might have brought us all together...

Well, it's official.

Two weeks without a murder, y'all.

You'd have thought wrong.

Oops.

Ugh. I hate hot girls.

Except Daphne.

Help! Help!

I just found another dead girl killed

in exactly the same way as the others.

Well, great.

A $10,000 banner down the drain.

Another dead girl?

So I got good news

and I got bad news.

The good news, as this new girl was murdered

while Fred Jones was in jail,

Fred is exonerated

and going free.

But we just turned his room into an ice skating rink.

Now for the bad news.

The real murderer is still on the loose.

Now, are there any more questions?

Yeah, I have one.

How come no one ever cared this much about my missing mom?

All right! Quiet!

Now, there's a good reason

we're taking this case more seriously

than the "missing mother"

of a mouthy girl.

We've had a breakthrough.

Now, after careful review

of all the evidence,

we have found a pattern.

Interesting.

Each of the victims is hot.

Oh my God! We're hot.

Hold on!

Are you telling us

life is now even harder for beautiful girls?

Gigi and her friends already spent half their days

responding to compliments.

Thank you, Dad. That's so nice.

Tragically, yes.

Our hot little baby.

Now, we don't have the money to protect every student.

So instead we've decided to rank the five hottest girls

at Crystal Cove High School,

and give them each a personal police detail.

Fun, right?

Yeah. We're calling it

the Crystal Cove Hope Initiative.

Yeah, acronyms.

Wait. So a couple of middle aged white dudes

are gonna decide which of us are hottest?

Okay. Well, if you have a better idea

of how to make the list maybe you should do it, Velma.

You want me to make the list?

I'd rather die.

Velma, please.

That's a very insensitive thing to say.

I mean, especially from a student

who is in no danger from a hot girl murderer.

Also, if you don't do it, a bunch of other girls

will be murdered, of course,

and with them,

Crystal Cove's tourism based economy.

Not the economy!

Fine. Though don't forget that ranking hot girls

is exactly how the Trojan War and Facebook started.

Velma, wait up.

On behalf of hot girls everywhere,

thank you for agreeing to make that list.

Friends, Velma.

We both just need to be friends right now.

Especially because I finally have enough money

to hire a detective to find my birth parents.

Uh, hello. I'm a detective.

Velma, you already have too much on your plate.

And our relationship is complicated enough as it is.

Is it though?

Maybe we should hug again to see.

No, you're right.

But if you want to help, take something off my plate,

make this hot girl list for me.

Uh, you mean the list of which of my friends might get to live?

No thanks. One, I hate making lists,

and two... Oh, no, this is a list.

But I can't do it.

Next to you, every other girl looks like a potato in a dress to me.

Aw.

You guys talking about the hot girl list?

Be careful, 'cause us bitches will do anything to get on it.

Anything.

Have fun with this. Bye.

♪ I just like the attention ♪

♪ Baby you know I got tricks up my sleeve ♪

- ♪ Come to my intervention ♪

♪ Do I have your attention ♪

♪ All eyes on me ♪

Pick me, Velma.

♪ All eyes on me ♪

Hey, Velma. You need to finish that list.

It's bad enough girls might die,

but now my trumpet is dented.

I'm trying. This is the first chance I've had to focus.

Thank God, hot girls would rather be murdered

than enter the band room.

And the hot girls are distracting

because you recently came out

and get too turned on to focus.

- Got it, copy. - Norville,

I didn't come out, I told you.

I like Daphne but also find Fred attractive.

He has this deep, inexplicable magnetism.

That's called being rich, but go on.

But Daphne, our personalities just click.

I can't explain it.

Mmm, I see.

But if you had to explain it, so I... I mean, someone

could possibly study Daphne's personality and emulate it,

so you liked him instead of her.

Ugh. This is exactly the problem with this list.

Men make everything about them and what they want.

Not me. I'm an ally.

Now get back to my question.

Our whole lives, girls are told by guys

there's a right way to be hot, and I'm not it.

Guys even teach us to be ashamed of our own bodies.

Every little kid knows how to draw a penis,

but make a little kid draw a vagina,

and what happens?

- You go to jail? - Exactly.

But now, because of this list,

I have to validate everything I hate

about men's ideas of beauty norms

or girls will die.

And one of them might be Daphne.

Imagine all the things you'd miss about her personality.

In this form, out loud, and go.

Okay, look, I know my hottest list won't help you.

♪ I just like the attention ♪

♪ Baby you know I got... ♪

But if you can manage

to not get too horned up from his magnetism,

we do know a guy who might be able to help.

Mmm.

Mom, stop.

Not in front of my gang.

Hey, Fred.

Wow! You look good after jail.

And you're way less stabbed to death than I expected.

Uh, thanks. You look...

Why am I here?

I need your help ranking the five hottest girls

at Crystal Cove High.

Yeah, I don't know.

I did that for the science fair last year

and got suspended.

Your entry was called, "From Freud to Jung: An exploration in horniness."

But it's fine. The police need the list to keep hot girls safe.

Oh, so like charity work? Okay.

But if this doesn't help restore my public image

as a good guy, I'mma be pissed.

All right.

Yes...

Yes...

Yeah!

Daphne, Olive,

Gigi, Becca and... Kimmy?

But Kimmy's so sweet.

Wait. Is it an inner beauty thing?

No, it's a huge-cans thing.

Now, anything else I can do for you?

Yeah, maybe read this.

The Feminine Mystique.

No way, I love Mystique.

Is this about whether Jennifer Lawrence is hotter than Rebecca Romijn?

Well, I'm excited to see

how they settled that in under 400 pages.

Look, kid, I know you wanna find your biological parents,

but as my name makes clear, I'm too short

and too high to be useful.

Moms, my door's locked.

Sorry, sweetie, we had no choice.

The serial killer is targeting hot girls,

and you're almost as hot as Donna.

Oh, you.

But you can't just imprison a totally innocent person.

What don't you get about cops?

Visitor!

Norville? What are you doing here?

Well, with all the talk about hotness,

I'm writing an article for the student newspaper titled,

"Reasons someone might like someone else's personality."

So what do Velmas...

Uh, I mean, people see in you?

We have a student newspaper?

Hey! Who just threw a rock through my window?

Do you have any idea what a pain it is to get out the vacuum?

Huh?

There's no one there.

And this isn't a rock.

It's a geode from the crystal mines,

The crystal mines?

That old tourist attraction that's now a seagull toilet full of condoms?

Here's your dumb list of hot girls.

Of course, if society exerted half this effort

teaching girls not to be slaves to the patriarchy,

we wouldn't have this problem in the first place.

Boys don't like a know it all, Velma.

Wait. Oh my God, that's it.

Boys don't like a know it all.

If the serial killer

only wants hotties, instead of spending half our town budget

on police protection for five smoke-shows,

why don't you just teach them

to be not hot like you, Velma?

Wait. So you're saying

I get to actually release these girls

from the shackles of the male gaze?

Exactly.

Uggo lessons!

Mmm.

Hi, girls.

Velma, your new way-cooler friends are here.

Oh, we're not friends.

Because of Velma

our personal police details, which we earned by being hot,

got downgraded to uggo lessons.

You know, maybe a good place to start

would be not referring to what we're doing as "uggo lessons".

I was thinking, maybe goddess renewals.

I don't care what you call it.

We're not starting until Daphne gets here.

Oh, Daphne isn't coming.

Her moms have her in a full on Rapunzel sitch,

so she gets a pass.

Okay. But the thing is,

we kind of rely on Daphne to tell us what to do.

She's like our queen bee,

and you're like a... a King Kong.

Well, interestingly enough,

a key component to being not hot

is not fitting in.

And the best way to not fit in

is to never just do what other people tell you to do.

Like how King Kong didn't listen to people,

so airplanes killed him?

No. You know what?

We need to start these uggo lessons right now.

Daphne, your moms are gone,

but how are you gonna get out?

Damn!

Thank you for helping me find who threw that geode

and for explaining geodes in terms I can understand,

the hot-girls of rocks.

Daphne, look,

I'm always up for anything geode related,

know that,

but have you wondered

if this is the serial killer trying to lure you out?

I have. And have you wondered

how grateful everyone would be

if we caught him, including Velma?

What? Velma?

Why would I care what Velma thinks?

The Feminine Mystique is a total rip-off.

Not one mention of a sexy shape-shifter.

This was more disappointing than George Bernard Shaw's Man and Superman.

Ugh, I feel weird.

Nice.

Banging bod, unhooked bikini.

Oh, hello.

What do we have here?

Sensible shoes,

forging her own identity,

regardless of what society expects.

She's just got this kind of mystique.

Wait.

What have you done to me?

So we have one day to unlearn

a lifetime of internalized misogyny.

I'm getting waxed at 4:00.

Then we have until 4:00.

No, terrible, too flattering.

Oh, these might work.

Damn it! Now you look hot and relatable,

like an athlete who wears glasses.

Ugh, just put on the sleeping bag.

♪ Oh-oh-oh Go totally crazy ♪

♪ Forget I'm a lady ♪

♪ Men's shirts, short skirts ♪

♪ Oh-oh-oh ♪

How do we do our hair?

Wet bun or cut it, baby.

♪ Oh-oh-oh, ♪

♪ get in the action ♪

♪ Feel the attraction ♪

♪ Color my hair Do what I dare ♪

♪ Oh-oh-oh, ♪

♪ I wanna be free, yeah ♪

♪ To feel the way I feel ♪

♪ Man! I feel like a woman! ♪

So welcome to the Crystal Cove Historical Society.

You can learn anything about geodes

and the crystal mines here.

And time permitting,

walk through the hall of controllers.

So Crystal Cove's famous crystal mines

were discovered in the 19th century

by a prospector who thought he'd found a gold mine

and was looking for a rock

with which to bash his partner's brains in.

I'm rich!

But the crystal were worthless.

Then came the 1970s, and everything changed.

A nation betrayed by Vietnam and endless guitar solos,

people abandoned their old belief systems

in favor of literally anything else.

Enter the healing power of crystals.

And Crystal Cove became a boom town.

The mines themselves became a tourist destination.

But by the 1980s, the crystal fad ended,

replaced by the aerobics fad and the cocaine fad.

Crystal Cove never recovered.

The mines closed and the guy running the display

got into sexual pottery.

Which is why I'm ending the tour early.

Norville.

I feel like I've been here before

as a baby.

Is that crazy?

No, I vividly remember breast feeding.

Though I did stop at five.

Ugh. What if that geode

was thrown by my birth parents?

Maybe they're also trying to find me

without my mom's finding out.

We have to go there.

Mayor Dave, Sheriff Cogburn,

I want you to remember this moment.

For far too long, we have told girls that pain is beauty.

Well, today

you will see these painfully beautiful girls

transform from "Damn" to "Eh..."

Ooh, they are so hot, Daddy likey.

Wait. You were supposed to do the opposite.

What the hell, Velma?

Yeah. What the hell, girls?

Where's the hair I wove onto your arms?

It's gone, Velma.

This wasn't an exercise in deprogramming,

it's an exercise in slut-shaming.

No woman should ever have to change who she is

or how she dresses to not be murdered.

But you're more than your looks, Olive.

You can reverse your car without even looking at the camera.

I know, Velma,

just like I know I love looking hot.

You think every girl deep down is like you,

but you're wrong.

In fact, your definition of womanhood

is even more restrictive than ours.

We'll take our police details now,

and no uggos,

just beefcake.

Me-ow!

Cat-fight.

Your definition of womanhood

is even more restrictive than ours.

Hmm.

Something's different about you today.

Wait. You didn't try an energy drink again, did you?

No. It's just that after yesterday,

I have no clue how to be a woman

in a way that doesn't judge other women.

So you picked Monster.

How dare you call any woman a monster,

you monster?

I'm dressed like this to show support

for all the beautiful ways women express themselves.

Even the ones I think are stupid.

I know it's very upsetting that I have to re-evaluate all my beliefs.

Thank you for understanding.

It's not that.

I'm having a baby.

Right. But are you having a baby?

Or did society tell you to have a baby?

Wait, you're really having a baby.

Call 911!

Wait, No. Call a cab. Taxi births make the news.

I am calling,

but we're trapped in the carpool lane.

You have to get these cars to move

so an ambulance can get in.

Okay, I'll, uh...

- Hey! Move, buddy! - Hey! Come on!

It's the hot-girls police details! Yes!

Help, Sheriff Cogburn! Help!

Look out! It's the serial killer!

And he's even crazier than we thought!

What? No!

It's Velma! My dad's goomar is having a baby.

Aw, a wittle guy?

No, you need to get these cars out of here

so an ambulance can get in.

10-4.

All right, everybody.

We got ourselves an official tender moment.

A woman is experiencing

the sacred miracle of childbirth!

Oh! Look at that!

Oh! She's crowning.

Actually, I should probably see this too,

always wondered how it worked.

Come on, fellas!

It's show-and-tell time.

Wait, no! Where are you going?

Olive, please help me.

If we can get these students out of the way,

the ambulance could drive up on the grass.

Sure, but no one's moving, Velma.

A lady is giving birth in front of school.

This is literally why

social media exists.

Stop! Or at least get my ring light. It's in the trunk.

Then you'll just have to give them something better to look at.

Wait! You're not thinking...

Yes, I need you to muster all of your sexiness

and lure everyone away with a sexy dance.

Like a shimmy into a bouncy thing?

I'm not a dancer.

Just show me ass cheeks going in different directions.

And what? You'll just watch and silently judge us?

Pass. Our sexy dancing is for ourselves.

And once to raise money for a dog

that needed hip surgery.

Fine. If you won't do it, I will.

Hey, everyone, look at me!

I'm sexy, I'm fun.

Ooh, yeah.

I'm rolling on some gum.

Did I accidentally tase her?

What's happening? Why isn't this luring the crowd towards me?

Because if you're gonna be sexy,

you have to own it.

You look like a white influencer

trying to choreograph her own dance

instead of just stealing one.

I know. I'm trying,

but I'm just not comfortable owning it.

Wait, that's it. That's the answer.

Just like how you're all women who don't wanna own shorts that cover your butt,

I'm a woman who doesn't wanna own it.

And one isn't better than the other.

Whoa, whoa! Hold on.

So you're saying, while we're all juicy asses...

I'm all sass and glasses, baby.

Velma! Hurry up and do something!

Yes, of course.

Girls, let's do a respective yet equally valid dance.

Oh my God!

Norville, I've definitely been here before.

I feel like all the answers to my questions

about my parents are in there.

The bathrooms?

Wait. I mean in there.

Daphne, this is a bad idea.

It's too coincidental.

The serial killer could know

you're looking for your parents and be manipulating you.

Wow. I would be a really good serial killer.

Was that vocational test right?

I know it's risky, Norville, but I have to try.

Finding my parents is the only way to figure out

why I'm so different from everyone.

This is gonna sound crazy,

but I love danger.

No. Not a cute one.

Oops.

Apologize.

My moms have done everything to teach me to be safe,

but I'm still danger-prone Daphne.

Fighting, dealing drugs,

possibly walking into a serial killer's trap.

Who are my biological parents,

and why am I like this?

What's wrong?

Everything.

I hate danger,

so I can't mimic your personality to make Velma like me.

Yeah, that's what I've been trying to do.

No.

Yep. And it would've worked, too.

I'm inquisitive and athletic,

and I can fake being dumb

after carrying on a conversation with you all day.

- Mmm-hmm. - But I can't make myself like danger.

I'm far too sane.

So if that's the thrill ride to nowhere Velma's looking for

I'm wasting my time.

I'm sorry, Norville, but trust me,

there's someone other than Velma out there for you.

Yeah, sorry. I can't do this dumb talk anymore.

- I'm gonna hop. - What?

You can't just leave me here.

I'm not afraid of who's in there.

I'm just afraid they'll think I'm a loser

who couldn't get friends to come with them.

Yeah, well, there's no world where I'm ever solving a mystery

in an abandoned amusement park.

So if you want a ride, it's now or never.

Fine, I'm coming.

But you're only getting two stars.

Velma, I know we've had our differences,

but you really saved the day.

And not just because your janky nails

came in handy for cutting the cord.

I was pretty great today wasn't I?

Possibly the greatest woman of all time.

Even better than that girl

with a ponytail that's on the quarter.

You know, after seeing you take charge like that,

I really hope my little girl grows up to be just like you.

Wow. Thank you, Sophie.

On the inside at least.

Nope, not for me.

Yes, for me.

Fred?

I, uh, think you meant

to send this to Daphne next door.

No, Velma, wait!

I'm here because I want you.

To be the before picture in another diet pill scam?

I mean, at least you're asking this time.

No, that book you gave me

opened my eyes to your inner beauty.

Wait, really?

I've dreamt about this moment

one time on an airplane.

I was escorted off. It's not important.

Hey, I'm as surprised as you are,

but you know, what can I say?

That book broke my brain.

So let's make the best of this

reverse Beauty and the Beast nightmare, right?

Wait, what?

Anyway, wanna go to Hand Stuff Point?

Fred, while I'm glad you've learned

to appreciate inner beauty...

Oh, yes. Speak your mind, baby.

Right. Well, I also prefer inner beauty.

And, yes, up until right now,

I found you irresistible.

But now I just find you gross.

What? How?

You know I'm rich, right?

Like, I once sat through an entire opera rich.

Sorry, Fred, but for what it's worth,

I am keeping the picture you sent me

for plane rides.

If Velma can be herself, Gigi, so can you.

Hey, watch where you're going.

Valedictorians have the right of way.

Gigi?

Hi.

Are you talking about my IQ?

You tell me.