All language subtitles for The.Goldbergs.S10E18.1080p.x265-ELiTE.en

Back in the '80s, no one had
more romantic moments than Erica and Geoff,

from their courtship to
their magical wedding.

But since the birth
of their baby,

the magic had taken a few hits,

and my sister was hoping to inject a
little passion back into their lives.

Boy, that "Hush, Little
Baby" lullaby is so weird.

Like, why would you buy
an infant a diamond ring?

What's all this?

What does it look
like, handsome?

Sultry music, scented
candles, dimmed lights.

I'd say someone was either
hoping for a romantic evening

or planning on running a
fortune-telling parlor out of our room.

It's the first thing.

Tomorrow's our anniversary,
and I want to celebrate early.

Champagne?

Whoa, you are as
bubbly as this Brut.

Ooh, there goes my nose tickle.

Even your dumb talking
can't ruin this.

Get over here.

Hey, you two, I made you a special
surprise for your anniversary.

- Can it wait?
- It cannot.

I call it "trout chili,"
and it will not keep.

We don't want that right now.

Well, I'll just leave all
32 quarts outside your door.

Ugh, I smell fish and peppers.

Well, just hold your nose and
let's get back to business.

Erica, solve a bet for us.

Barry says he can jump to
the tree outside our bedroom,

but I think he's gonna die.

Impossible! I have the
explosive thighs of a kangaroo.

Tell him, Erica.

Tell him how special my body is.

- For sure, go for it!
- Wait, but that would kill Barry and the mood.

But for the few minutes while
the ambulance is en route,

- we can get down.
- Yeah.

Hey,
where do you keep the plunger?

I don't know. Maybe
ask anyone else?

It's kind of an emergency. I
already threw away my shoes.

We can't help you. No
one with any dignity can.

Oh, God! Who now?

It's your friendly neighbor, John
Glascott. Do you have a moment?

We most certainly don't!

I'm just here to beseech
you to close your curtains.

I noticed that you set the
stage for a boudoir dalliance,

and I can see everything.

I guess my first recommendation

would be to close your curtains.

I have delicate Venetian blinds.

You would know that
if you ever accepted

any of my multiple invitations
for coffee and Battleship.

Erica! Barry's hurt,
and not in a funny way.

In a "he's weirdly quiet" way.

All right, I solved it by
snapping a towel at it,

so, uh, you're welcome.

Guess what I brought?
Chili spoons.

Why waste all these
beans and mackerel?

Are they seriously just gonna eat in
the hallway, right outside our door?

Oh, whatever.

And there's the baby.

Happy anniversary, buddy.

- Oh, that's good.
- Mm.

♪ I'm twisted up inside ♪

♪ But nonetheless I
feel the need to say ♪

♪ I don't know the future ♪

♪ But the past keeps
getting Clearer every day ♪

It was
March 22, 1980-something,

and Barry and Joanne had
finally found a place

to move into,

Pop-Pop's old apartment.

Bathroom, uh, room...

um, stove you could
burn your trash on.

And here's the dying room.

- Do you mean the dining room?
- Oh, sure.

That's probably what you
guys will use it for.

This place is awesome.

There are support
bars in the shower,

so I can do my tricep dips
while I wash off the sweat.

Yeah, it certainly has
your personality, Pop-Pop.

Uh, Barry, who's this broad
you're shacking up with, again?

I'm Joanne.

I've been dating your
grandson for over a year now.

I gave you my bone marrow.

Why am I helping them move?

My arms are built for Nintendo,
not whatever you call this.

Manual labor?

Come on, I'll show
you the back alley

where you can throw your
grapefruit rinds and cigar butts.

Where should I put
Barry's throwing stars

and private dream diaries, Mama?

Uh, the closet?

And
in that closet,

I was about to discover more than
my grandpa's moth-eaten sweaters...

A moth-eaten manuscript.

"Invasion from Cosmic
City" by BL Goldberg!

Thirty pages of an
unpublished science-fiction manuscript

written by my grandfather.

Pop-Pop is a nerd!

Hey, who told you
you could read that?

Sorry.

I'm just so excited to
find out that you're...

just like me!

An oddball? Ah, no way.

And yet you are.

It's like Pops taught me
how to be kind and be a man,

and you and I share something
almost as important...

Made-up aliens and jetpacks.

You learned squat from me.

And I'll prove it.

Look at that.

A rejection letter?

Ah, those bastards
crushed my dreams,

but I showed 'em.

I gave up writing, and
every single morning,

I re-read that letter.

Why would you do that?

To recharge my hatred and
distrust for the world

so that nobody can ever
hurt me like that again.

How is that showing them?

They thought they'd
beaten down BL Goldberg,

but my relentless
anger will never die.

Ha! Ben wins.

While I learned my grouchy
grandpa and I were sort of similar,

Geoff and Erica had learned

how hard it was to get
time to themselves.

A good morning to all creatures,

both jacked and puny.

Why are you so happy?

And, Geoff, where's my toast?

I'm not a wizard, Erica.

I can't make the
toaster toast faster.

Hey, I sense an
un-chillness in the air,

when I, in fact, demand
a fully formed chillness.

Mm. It's those two, babe.
They did this to the air.

Why are you guys even here?

We realized that when you
move into your own place,

your parents don't buy
food for you anymore.

So, we're eliminating the
middle man and stocking up.

Is the middle man
the supermarket,

where you'd buy your own food?

Bingo! It's the only
downside about our new place.

It's been like a second
honeymoon for us.

- You guys aren't married.
- Then a first honeymoon.

You guys aren't married.

Barry, don't flaunt the
fact that our relationship

has gone to a new
level in their faces.

- It really has.
- Mm-hmm.

I mean, that apartment
is like a cocoon

tucked away from all the
disturbances of this house

to make space for our passion.

Or, as The B-52s would call it,

a love shack.

And from now on,
not just that song,

but all music is ruined forever.

Don't deny something that's
perfectly natural, Geoff.

Every night and every day,

your sister and I stuff
ourselves at the buffet of love.

Just let the toast burn.
Let the whole place burn.

We can't be here any longer.

Come on.

The most important
thing in a relationship

is to make time for each other.

We tried that, but
this house is a zoo,

and the animals are my family.

Yes, it's well-established,
we're the worst.

Wait a minute. Babe, are you
thinking what I'm thinking?

Five. No. Twelve.

It's not a number,
it's the Secunda Hotel.

- Of course.
- Uh-huh.

Joanne just helped the concierge
work out a few legal issues,

and he gifted us a free night.

And we'd like to re-gift it to
you guys for your anniversary.

What? That's so nice of you.

Our lives are going
so well, dear sister.

We must spread our joy
to the less fortunate.

- Is it seven?
- Yes.

- Aah!
- Aah!

- Grab the bagels.
- Okay.

With that,
Erica and Geoff tried again

to reboot their fire for each other
with a romantic hotel getaway.

Coming, my sexy wife!

I think you're really gonna
like the accommodat...

Sorry I'm late. I
had to swing home.

Oh, uh, I see that, but why
did you bring our daughter?

Don't get me wrong, big fan.

I just couldn't leave her.

Well, she is the best.

Aren't you?

Look how amazing this room is.

Ooh, and how comfy
that bed looks.

It does, doesn't
it? Doesn't it?

Here's a thought.

Why don't you put down our girl,

and I'm gonna take a quick
catnap on this bad boy,

and then you and I, mister,

are gonna get on the
train to Sexy Town.

Well, punch my ticket, 'cause
I'm all aboard. Choo-choo!

Uh, babe?

Fun.

As Erica and
Geoff's getaway hit a snag,

I was stuck on the idea

that Pop-Pop and I shared
the same interests.

What's the matter,
light of my loins?

You haven't touched
your Boo Berry.

I just can't get over it.

Pop-Pop loves sci-fi, too.

I just wish he
would talk about it.

Well, I guess your Pop-Pop couldn't
handle that publisher's rejection.

My whole life has been people
making fun of me and bullying me,

but I don't run away.

Unless the bully is an
above-average-size person,

or an average-size person,

or a tiny-but-aggressive person.

You never know what
those people will do.

Remember, Schmoo, Pop-Pop
didn't have something

that the Goldberg kids
were blessed with.

A diet of oddly cheesed meats?

Me.

He had to face his defeats
with no support system.

Maybe you can connect with
Pop-Pop by encouraging him.

But I can't do what you do,

especially not for someone as
defensive and awful as Pop-Pop.

I am the greatest ego booster
in the history of mankind,

and I can teach you.

Now, you read the sample
pages from Pop-Pop's book.

What did you think about them?

They were okay.

Okay or good?

I guess he showed some promise.

Then that's what you seize on.

You have to BEV.

- BEV?
- You build their confidence,

enable their self-delusions,

and value them over every
other person on earth.

Now, you said Pop-Pop's
writing showed some promise.

Instead, why not say

he's the greatest imagineer
the world has ever seen?

- But that isn't true.
- Well, who cares about true?

You're helping someone
get over their fear.

Now, pretend I'm Pop-Pop. Go.

Um, Pop-Pop, the beginning
of this book was... fun.

Wrong! It wasn't fun.

It was the greatest literary thrill
ride the world has ever seen.

Seems a bit over the top.

Now, what does Pop-Pop love
even more than science fiction?

Sticking it to people?

Which brings us to "V,"
value him over other people.

"Pop-Pop, your writing
isn't just good,

it makes Hemingway look
like an illiterate boob."

You're saying lie to him
about how great he is

in order to create a
false state of confidence,

like you do with Barry.

Um, yeah, yeah, like
I do with Barry...

and no other child.

- Right.
- Just Barry.

- Just Barry.
- Just Barry.

It's weird how you
keep saying Barry.

Only Barry.

And so, armed with my
mom's confidence-bolstering scheme,

I approached my grandfather.

- What you up to there, Pop-Pop?
- The obituaries.

I outlived Mervin Silver.

Tell me I'm cheating
at bocce now.

Fun!

So, listen.

- I was thinking about your sci-fi novel.
- I don't want to talk about it.

Those pages, they don't
just show promise,

they may be the
greatest examples

of science-fiction
writing since Asimov.

You think I'm supposed to hop to
my feet and act like a big shot

because my dopey grandson's
blowing smoke up my keister?

I just thought you'd
want to stick it

in that publisher's face.

How would I do that?

First, you'd have
to finish the book

and show them how
fantastic it could be.

Then, when the whole
world holds you aloft

as the best science-fiction
writer of all time...

Yeah, yeah, yeah?

You'd send them the reviews
with a big note in red marker

that says, "You
blew it, loser!"

With a few horrible
things about his wife.

Yoo-hoo, wouldn't that
be something?

Y-Y-You really think I'm good?

I think you've got it all!

You mean I have pizzazz?

Pizz and azz all over the place.

What?
Me? Think of that.

While I was lifting
my grandpa to the clouds,

Erica was just crashing down
to Earth from dreamland.

Oh, man.

Mama needed that
catnap real bad.

All right.

Well, sexy time. Let's do this.

Nope.

What do you mean, "Nope"?

It's showtime.
Romance. Come on.

Uh-uh.

Oh, playing hard to get?

Pretty boy needs to be
wined and dined, huh?

Well, what do you say we
order some room service,

pop in a Sade cassette,
light some candles, and...

Why is it daytime?

You've been asleep for 14 hours.

What? No!

During our romantic getaway,

I was up all night with Muriel

while my wife was
snoozing like the dead.

No, no, no, no,
no. Come on, baby.

We still have time, don't we?

Housekeeping!

We just need four minutes!

You're already a late checkout, ma'am.

Okay, three minutes. Lock Muriel in the
bathroom and let's get going, Geoff.

No. You know I can't perform
when you put a clock on me.

Remember that time at the Wawa,

when I was supposed to pick a candy
bar because they were closing,

and I left with a
Chunky with raisins?

Who's that for?

Oh, fine! We're coming!

At least steal all
the towels, Geoff.

My mom's
plan to instill Pop-Pop

with a writer's confidence
had gone swimmingly.

Nice hat, Pop-Pop.

Oh, this ain't no
hat. It's a fedora.

Ooh, like Paula Abdul wears.

- So the writing's going okay?
- Big time.

Plus, I looked up that guy who
sent me the rejection letter.

It turns out he's dead.

And his wife died
20 years before him,

so he's been completely
alone all those years.

That's incredibly sad.

You bet.

Oh, I know I don't say this often enough,
Adam, but, uh, you're my grandson.

Thank you for that
basic acknowledgement.

So, when can I have a
look at this masterpiece?

Oh, you mean show it to
people? Uh, I'm not sure.

- You know, I just started a writers' group recently.
- Writers' group?

Yeah, it's just a few literary-minded
folks from the neighborhood.

We meet up to offer each other
encouragement and constructive criticism.

If I don't share my gift with these
schmucks, it'd be, uh, selfish, no?

Well, that's not really the
spirit of the group, but...

Uh, my book will
be a welcome treat

to the dreck that these
losers would write.

Again, I'm in the group.

And, uh, thanks
again... grandson.

That's what I always was to you.

But glad you're up for it!

I was
BEVing like a pro.

Yes!

Meanwhile, my sister and Geoff stopped by Barry
and Joanne's to steal back some groceries.

I'm sorry. It's just, we never
get any time together alone.

That's because we
never actually are.

Exactly.

Why can't we just get one second
where it's just the two of us?

Which was precisely
where they found themselves.

Barry's in class all day.

And Joanne's in court.

Sure, it
was their siblings' home,

but all that mattered was that
Erica and Geoff were alone.

Meanwhile, my writers' group had
filled our empty pages with words.

"Madam
President says,

'For a Secret Service
agent, you talk too much.

'Now, put down that
bazooka and kiss me.'"

- Oh!
- Wow.

Super fun,
Mr. Glascott. Loved it.

Thank you, Matt Bradley.

It felt good to get it
down to a lean 207 pages.

Okay, who's next?

Ooh, I am.

Uh, now, my prior
greeting card poems

have focused only on Christmas,

but I'm expanding my horizons.

So this one's about
Advent Sunday.

Instead of boring these
folks with Jesus or whoever,

why don't we give them
a real adventure story?

Pop-Pop, we keep it democratic

by randomly selecting the order.

No, it's fine, Adam. I'll just
wait a few more agonizing moments

wondering if I'm good enough.

Go ahead, Ben.

"It was hour one
of the invasion."

And so, Pop-Pop gave
us a taste of his latest work.

But what BL Goldberg cooked up

wasn't a new sci-fi masterpiece.

Nope, turns out my grandpa

just wrote a super-graphic
alien sex romp.

Well, that was
spectacular. Hmm?

- It's interesting.
- So interesting.

I concur on the interesting.

Well, I have a question.

- Why was it so filthy?
- Filthy?

You know, all the very explicit
and unrelenting sexual imagery.

Well, aliens, they
really get after it.

It seems they do nothing else.

Is Earth just one
big bed to them?

Well, it's a foxy planet.
You gotta admit it.

See, our sun cooks their loins
and puts them into a frenzy.

No, no, no. I remember
those 30 pages,

but the plot just
seems to fall away.

What happened to the
astronauts from the beginning?

They died from Bazoomba-Boomba.

And Bazoomba-Boomba is?

- Rigorous Martian love.
- Mm.

Our carbon-based bodies
couldn't take the friction.

- Interesting.
- So interesting.

I love how interesting it is.

Oh, I see what this
is. This is a hit job.

We're just asking questions.

Questions like why and how
and who wants to hear about

"a green-skinned broad with a skirt so
short you can use it as an eyepatch"?

I actually liked that part.

All right, all right.
You want to dig in, huh?

Your thing about
this guy that works

in the dungaree shop is idiotic!

The only thing he thinks
about is folding jeans.

It's a metaphor for control
in a chaotic universe.

And your story about
this middle-aged broad

that flirts with the young
man in your writers' group

and works at the Gap is
clearly about you and this one.

- I wondered why Brad Mattley sounded so familiar.
- No.

And your action
picture? It's boring.

As in "boring into your
skull with excitement"?

- As in crappy.
- Pop-Pop, please stop.

And you're the worst of all.

You lied to me, told
me how good I was

so these jerks could take their
cheap shots at me? Thanks a lot.

Well, who wants to get a
drink to clear their heads?

Just you, Matt?

While Pop-Pop was
feeling like I had betrayed him,

Erica and Geoff were finding
any excuse they could

to continue their secret tryst.

And I mean any excuse.

Pop-Pop wants his baby
teeth from the apartment?

Sure. Why not?

You both simultaneously
got jury duty?

- Guilty.
- Guilty.

Say no more.

Bye!

A couple's dentist appointment?

Hmm. Sounds fun.

This was a perfect plan.

Oh, my God!

They've returned to their
own home for some reason!

I'm gonna get
caught with my wife!

You know, it's funny,
but I feel like,

today, I became a parent.

Definitely better
than Erica and Geoff.

After all, Muriel crawled
for the first time, to you.

- What?
- Aah!

What the crap are
you doing in here?

Not important. Did you just say
that Muriel crawled to Barry?

Why are you wearing our sheets?

We missed the first time
our daughter crawled?

She sure did.

To me, of all people.

Why is your hair all mussy?
Were you break dancing?

Uh, y-yes?

Totally. Just
poppin' and lockin'.

Wait a minute. Have you two
been getting busy in our bed?

In fairness, it was
rarely in the bed.

- I can't believe this happened.
- This is your fault.

What? It's yours!

You're too damn
beautiful. I can't resist.

You're the hot one.

Toned and muscly and
sensuous, all in one.

I never feel as safe as
when I'm in your arms.

Your magazine-cover good looks make
me feel like I'm capable of anything.

What is happening?

They hate how attracted
they are to each other.

- All right, let's all calm down.
- Whew.

Neither of you are as physically
appealing as me and Joanne.

We were so selfish,

we missed one of the greatest
moments of Muriel's life.

I guess we're just gonna have
to focus on being parents

and give up on being a couple.

So, how was your couple's
dentist appointment?

Thanks to me, Pop-Pop
shared his writing with the world.

The world did not
share his enthusiasm.

Bev, I shall be
eating downstairs,

as I see no one here
I care to eat with.

Ben, stop.

You can't go the rest of your
life not talking to Adam.

You underestimate
my spite muscles.

The truth is, I'm the one
who pushed Adam into this.

I thought you two having something
in common would bring you together,

and I'm the one who suggested

he bend the truth
about your work.

A-ha! So it was all lies!

Well, both of you successfully
made a jackass of me.

Okay, well, you're not the
only one because, Adam,

I occasionally lied to you, too.

Lied to me? About what?

Sweetheart, I've
been telling you

you are a film-making genius
since you were eight years old.

Did it ever occur to you I might be
stretching the truth a little bit?

What are you talking about?

I'm a prodigy.

Every one of your friends said
so through gritted smiles.

Let's be honest.

Everything you did couldn't have
been the home run I said it was.

Are you telling me
I'm not a genius

whose words have been translated

into 400 different languages?

No.

So, was a highway not
named in my honor?

That's just Interstate 95.

Was my work not put
on the space shuttle

and sent to the great beyond

so other civilizations
could appreciate it?

It's in that drawer.

My whole life is a lie.

Both of you, sit down.

Adam, I sometimes wasn't
truthful with you,

but doing anything worthwhile
makes you vulnerable.

And isn't it easier to
have the support of someone

who loves and believes in you?

But did you believe in me?

I've always believed
in you, Schmoo,

even when I thought you
needed to grow a little.

The important thing
was you were enjoying

your creativity
until you got there.

And, Ben, weren't you
enjoying writing again?

Is that the most terrible thing
Adam could have given you?

I guess I enjoyed talking
spaceships and robots with the kid.

And I really do think
your book has promise.

There's a really
good story in there,

if you just make it a little
less terrifyingly sexual.

- What's this, now?
- I can do that...

for the best grandson
in the world.

Hey, that's pretty nice.

Heh.

How are you guys doing?

Fine.

Besides the fact that we're
never leaving our baby again.

Look, even though we
had a taste of the joy

of being parents today,

we can't say we understand
how hard this is for you both.

But one thing we do know...

If you don't also make
time for each other,

you're not gonna be happy.

Because two unhappy parents
makes for one unhappy kid.

So, maybe you have to
miss a few magic moments

to make sure you can
give this little cutie

the happy parents she deserves.

- Hm.
- Wow.

Did you two just give us
great parenting advice?

Well, someday, we plan on being
even better parents than you.

Even though that's gonna
be nearly impossible.

Does this mean we can use your
apartment for our alone time?

- Ugh, Jesus.
- Oh, God, no.

- All right, I'm done.
- Geoff, you ruined it.

Sometimes, the
hustle and bustle of our lives

can make us forget to
connect with each other,

which is why it's so great
when we uncover new ways

to make our connections
even stronger.

'Cause when we make
time for those we love,

there's no telling how great
the story can turn out.

Okay, Mrs. Kremp, you're up.

Well, I couldn't stop thinking
about Ben's erotic tale,

so I thought I would try my
hand at the steamy genre myself.

- Smoke break.
- Oh. Okay.

There's more space now,
if you want to slide over.

I'm good. This is the
last time I'm attending.

"Charlene
had known Roderick

since they shared a
smile at summer camp.

"But everything changed the
day he came to fix her sink.

"His fully-clothed body

just inches from her
fully-clothed body,

he pressed his bare
hand into hers.

"It was electric with
respect and friendship."

But what happened
to the leaky sink?