Original subtitles

♪

[romantic music]

♪

Oh!

No!

Huh!

- What are the odds of that? - One in a million?

-Oh! [laughs]

[romantic music continues]

[giggles]

♪

♪

[terminal beeping]

♪

♪

♪

♪

Here you go.

That was unexpected!

- Oh, yeah! - [awkward laughter]

[mysterious music]

♪

[snapping fingers]

Oh, oh!

[baby voice] Hello, Mommy. I'm a hungry boy!

Me, Mommy?

[opera music]

Oh my God, wait, you're on fire!

- Oh my God! - [screaming]

WAITER: Not again!

[panicked yelling]

- Grab a water, no, no! - Drop it, drop it!

Why are you still holding it?

Are you fucking out of your mind?

Drop it! Drop the dessert!

Help! My eyes!

[theme music]

♪

♪ I'm a different person now ♪

♪ Can we just hug it out? ♪

♪ There's an elephant ♪

♪ There's an elephant... ♪

♪ There's an elephant ♪

♪

♪

NURSE: Patient is 35 with second and third-degree facial burns,

significant trauma to both eyes, and his vitals are dropping.

DOCTOR: This guy's eyes are fucked!

Alright, I need tubes and suction, stat!

He's hemorrhaging, sir!

- [blood spurting sounds] - Gah... aah!

I got pressure on the issue, Doctor.

Alright, we're losing him. I need a defib, now.

♪ Happy Birthday to you... ♪

No, Nurse, please, this is not the time!

This man is dying!

[monitor beeping flatlines]

ALL: ♪ Happy Birthday, dear Doctor! ♪

Fine, fine, fine. Okay, thank you.

Thank you all, alright? We do not have time for this.

I need paddles.

[sighs]

[cake slops onto the floor]

- What the hell?! - Black forest, your favourite!

[sighs]

DOCTOR: There's, uh, good news and bad news.

The bad news is his retinas are fried.

He may never see again.

- Oh, God... - What's the good news?

It's my birthday.

I'm 41!

♪

As you guys know, our sales have been a little down.

Morale hasn't been great.

But this is Joel, a real-life improvisational comedian.

He performs weekly with his improv troupe,

A Flock of Steven Seagals.

Joel's here to get us back into our groove, right?

Get us a little loose,

and say "Yes!" to our ideas. Isn't that right, Joel?

- Sure is. - Yep!

Thank you, Oliver.

Fun fact: improv is actually the only art form

where everyone's gotta [New York accent] work togetha

to get that final product.

No, it isn't...

JOEL: Let's just hop right into the fun stuff!

Okay, look at me.

Now, could someone from the audience

give me a non-geographical location, please?

MAN: Uh... airport?

Airport. Okay, that's good.

[in a whisper] No... Mm-mm...

There's a baby, wah, wah, wah...

No, no, no, no, no, no!

[loudly] Fuck!

OLIVER: Whoa, Joel!

Maybe calm down on the language.

No, no, no, I just can't fucking think of anything.

Okay, now think!

Think, you stupid fucking pig!

Fucking pig, greaseball, idiot!

- Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you... - MAN: Hey, hey, uh...

What if you're a security agent and you find something weird

in someone's bag? That works, right?

- Yeah, yeah, that's good. - That's good!

[stomach rumbling]

Argh! Fuck!

ALL: Whoa!

Why didn't I think of that? That's so obvious!

I'm an idiot!

Yes, and then he could have found lube in the bag

or something. Oh, shit!

Fuck!

OLIVER: Oh, Joel, come on, man.

Uh, here's an idea, uh...

No, no more clues! I'm just thinking!

Just gimme a minute.

- [loud slap] - [gasps]

You set me up!

You gave me a hard one on purpose!

Airport is like the easiest thing in the world, man!

Come on!

No, it's not! It's impossible!

Besides lube, there's no good ideas!

ALL: Whoa!

[Joel crying]

[text message notification]

[sighs]

Alright, everybody, corporate's closing this branch

and we're, uh... we're all la.

ALL: What?!

I'm sorry, I don't know what to say.

- Oh my God, oh my God. - What are we gonna do?

- Oh my God, [inaudible]... - Whoa, Bummer Town!

[snaps finger] Wait...

Bummer Town.

That's it... Bummer Town!

And this town smells like shit.

[chuckles] That's not bad.

[laughter]

And that's improv.

♪

♪

UMPIRE: Stee-rike!

PLAYER: Mustard, relish, or hot dog?

PLAYER 2: Marry the hot dog. Obviously.

Hm, I guess it's the only one.

- Stee-rike! - Let's go, V-Man!

Hit her home!

- [bat thwacks] - Home, run home!

- Go, Janet, go! - Run home, yeah!

- UMPIRE: Out! - What?!

Come on!

She was safe! Are you blind, Ump?

Actually, I am.

- Oh... - However, she was clearly out.

The sound of the ball hitting the leather glove

was well before her foot made contact with home plate.

Well, it didn't look like that from where we were sitting.

- She was safe! - Out!

Whatever. [in a whisper] Fuck you!

No obscene gestures allowed, ma'am.

One more and you're outta here.

Wait, how did you know that I...

How did I know that you flipped me off?

Quite simple, really.

Each individual finger travels at its own unique velocity.

The heat emanating off your body also indicated rage

and aggression; therefore the sound of the acceleration

of your middle finger from crooked to perpendicular

was easily discernible from your four other digits.

Not very sportsmanlike, I must say.

- Whoa. - That's impossible.

-At one point, I would have thought so too.

But while the unfortunate events surrounding my life

for the last few days have left me blind,

all of my other senses are heightened

beyond what I ever thought possible.

For example, I know you are currently holding a hot dog

in your left hand,

covered in ketchup and corn reli.

A good sear on the dog, if not s,

and a lightly toasted bun beneath it all.

- How did you know that? - I could smell it.

Speaking of which, could I have a bite?

What? No, you can't have a bite.

That's not what your mother said last evening.

What?

You see, your mother, Francis Fitzgerald,

has sexual proclivities

that lean to the sado-masochistic variety.

So she did indeed ask me

to lacerate her left shoulder with my teeth

when we engaged in sexual intercourse,

16 hours and 47 minutes ago.

You son of a bitch!

- [squishy thwack] - Mmm.

[with a full mouth] Thank you!

Game on!

You've got some on your face there.

I know!

♪

[indistinct chatter]

Hi!

Oh, look how happy Betty looks.

Aww!

- I guess you two are next, huh? - Uh...

We haven't really, um, talked about it yet, you know?

[nervous laughter]

Would you all excuse me for a sec?

- Thanks. - No, no, no, Jack, don't!

Rachel, it's okay. Really.

Yeah, he didn't know.

No, no, you guys don't understand.

Lately he's been doing this thing where he goes around

- to people... - Get away from my wife!

What the hell is he doing?

- Kaboom! Kaboom! - Seriously, what are you doing?

He's cartoon-killing that guy's wife.

Cartoon-kill? What?

You know like Wile E. Coyote and that ostrich motherfucker?

See, like right now, he's sawing a big hole

around that woman's chair.

-Can I help you with something, young man?

- [falling whistle sound] - He says it, like,

calms him down or something. I don't know.

- He studied theatre. - Oh.

Bye-bye!

Shouldn't we stop him?

No, I dealt with this all weekend at my cousin's wedding

and I'm not doing it again, so it's his problem now.

- Rachel! - Yes?

You promised Jack wasn't gonna do the cartoon thing today!

Timber!

Do you think I'm happy about this?

I'm miserable.

This is ridiculous!

Jack?

Stop! You're ruining my baby shower!

Boom! Pow! Oof!

You're such a dork! Why don't you...

-Striking an innocent pregnant woman?

Not on my watch, criminal.

- Do I know you? - No...

But I know you.

- Who is that? - Entertainment or something?

I know the smell of the villainous underbelly

stinking this city to its core,

and I'm here to clean it up.

Look, dude, I think you should just...

[slicing metal sounds]

Oh my God.

[slashes and spurting blood sounds]

- Oh my God! - Oh my God!

- What the fuck?! - [dripping blood sounds]

- [slicing flesh] - [panicked screams]

That's fucking disgusting!

- Oh my God, oh my God! - No!

- Oh my God, no, no, no! - No!

Oh my God, Jack!

- [gunshot] - [screaming]

- Oh my God! - [screaming]

I may be blind for now,

but I see everything!

[hysterical screaming]

Criminals are no match... for Sightless.

- Oh my God! - [screaming]

[hysterical screaming]

He's really fucking dead!

♪

[school bell rings]

KID: Last one there is a rotten egg!

[giggling]

[laughter]

Hey, slow down, you little roadrunner.

Morning, Mr. S! Are we gonna go fast today?

With these sweaty palms, I don't think so, Billy.

Now, get on back there, you little wisenheimer!

You're the best, Mr. S!

You too, sweety!

Mr. Silvestriano, do you have a minute?

Well, good morning, ladies!

How may I be of assistance?

- Beans, huh? - Hmph!

Well, my wife's got me on one of those special diets.

- Ah. - Hmm, right.

Well, since it's the last day of school...

And all the kids love you so much...

A few of the parents decided to pool together

to get you something special.

Just a little token of our appreciation.

Really, ladies!

You didn't have to do that!

Oh, it was our pleasure. Really.

Open it!

Are these Renier Lindhurst Type M string-back

- driving gloves? - They are!

The internet says these ones are really good.

-Yeah, Renier Lindhurst Type M

string-back driving gloves are...

pretty good! Ha!

- [laughter] - Try 'em on!

-Yeah, get on there, baby!

Well, we hope you like them.

[door hinges screech]

[music swells]

[leather squeaks]

♪

[engine revs]

[crowd cheering]

- Is everything okay? - Hey, Billy.

What did you ask me before?

Are we gonna go fast today?

Oh yeah, Billy. We're gonna go fast...

KIDS: ♪ The wheels on the bus go round and round... ♪

Um, Mr. Silvestriano?

♪ The wheels on the bus go round and round... ♪

This bird's... gotta fly...

- [loud fart] - [music stops]

Eww!

- Yo-ou far-ted! - [laughter]

"Fart"? I hate that word!

You stink, Mr. Stinky.

This bus smells like ass because of you!

You're making us puke!

- Your wife doesn't love you. - Nobody does!

[laughter]

BILLY: I knew you were a loser!

Gimme the gloves.

BILLY: Eat shit, dummy!

GIRL: Ah, what a loser!

BILLY: You call this a life?

Oh my God, these reek!

Sniff these.

[sniffs] Jesus, these smell like shit.

Beans make me stinky, man.

KID: Your beard sucks!

♪

♪

Phew!

WIFE: You're home early, for once.

HUSBAND: Oh, sorry, honey.

It's birthday season.

I don't exactly have a set schedule.

-Funny, I didn't know "birthday" was a season.

-Honey, now is not a good time, okay?

I'm exhausted.

Okay, Todd, when exactly is a good time, then?

Just not right now. I've had a long day, okay?

Pfft.

The bank called.

We missed our minimum payment on our line of credit.

I'll call them in the morning.

I'll tell them Daylight Savings messed up our payments.

They'll understand. Trust me.

When are you gonna get a real job, Todd?

- I have a real job. - Humiliating yourself?

That's a real job?

What exactly is that stupid catchphrase again,

"It wasn't me!"

What does that mean?

I'm a skunk, Julie!

No, you're a fucking loser, Todd!

You don't understand.

This is what I'm meant to be doing.

- What you're meant to be doing? - Yeah.

They're paying you in paper...

fucking... tickets, Todd!

Well, those "paper fucking tickets"

put real fucking food on that goddamn motherfucking table!

Oh, here we go again.

Todd and his "I'm the.

Play another one next time, will you?

You think I enjoy this?

You think I like getting kicked in the nuts 18 hours a day,

7 days a week, covered in my own sweat, smelling my own pre-def?

-Oh, woe is me!

You chose this shit, not me!

You know, you could have had a really good job

at the post office like your uncle.

- Fuck him! - Great ben!

But no, you're too good for that, aren't you, Todd?

Way better off dressing up like some fucking skunk idiot

for little morons!

Your problem is you don't dream anymore.

My art could change the world!

[plate crashes]

Your art? Your art?!

- Are you fucking kidding me? - [farts in the distance]

You have to be the most deranged...

[sniffs] Is there someone in the washroom?

- No. - I can smell him!

No, there isn't! Nope!

It's not what you think it is.

♪

What the hell are you doing here?

Oh, uh...

I'm just doing what the cookie told me, my man.

"Cuck some dorkhole who does birthday parties."

Hey, it wasn't me! That's funny.

- See? - Pfft.

She doesn't get it.

♪

♪

- ROBBER: Hey, hey, you! Move! - Okay, okay!

- Move, you worm! - [gun cocks]

Nobody fucking move, or I swear to God,

I blow your fucking brains!

- [gunshot] - [woman screaming]

Not so fast, scumbag.

Who the hell are you supposed to be?

I'm...

Sightless.

You're that superhero who can't see!

I don't care who he is! Waste him!

[guns cock]

[laughs] You poor fools.

Let me let you in on a little secret.

I may be blind for now,

but I see... everything.

[dramatic music]

[sniffing loudly]

♪

Hot dog!

What?

Hot dog.

Someone's got a hot dog here.

It's making my mouth water.

I had a hot dog for lunch... He's right!

Sit the fuck down!

[sniffing] Yeah, sauerkraut...

Mustard... Two pickles.

[gunshot]

[gurgling moans]

Show's over, folks!

Let's make with the cash-ola.

[loud fart]

Ugh, nasty!

Oh, geez, I'm pre-deffing!

- I'm a goner! - [loud farts]

Pre-deffing?

Yeah, pre-def. Pre-defecation.

[loud fart]

It's the sound your ass makes before you take a shit.

When you die, you shit yourself! Everybody knows that.

- Ohh, I'm done for! - [farting]

What the fuck's a pre-def?

It's called a fart!

-No, no, they don't call it that anymore.

- It's pre-def now. - [farts]

Yeah, that's what I call it too.

Only losers say "fart."

ROBBER: Well, I'm no fucking loser!

If that's true, you'll always call farts

"pre-defs" from now on.

- [loud fart] - ROBBER 2: Pre-def?

Huh.

I like that.

Me too.

Well, it's settled, then.

From this day forward,

this gang will refer to farts as "pre-defs"!

Good for you! [farts]

ROBBER: Speak of the devil, It

of some pre-def coming right about...

No! You don't understand!

My senses are heightened!

[loud fart]

[laughter]

- ROBBER 2: Me too! - [laughter]

[cacophony of farts]

I beg you! The smell, it's overpowering!

ROBBER 2: That one was hot!

My powers are my greatest weakness!

- No! - [loud farts]

Stinky, stinky! Stinky, stinky!

- [laughter] - [small toot]

No! Here comes the shit!

Here comes the... shit!

[long, wet fart]

[sad music]

[thunder rumbles]

MASTERMIND: A billion dollars worldwide...

Thirteen Oscars...

Double-platinum soundtrack...

And the coveted MTV Movie and TV Award for Best Hero.

-Hello, Mommy! I'm a hungry boy!

MASTERMIND: Ladies and gentlemen...

DOCTOR: This guy's eyes are fucked.

MASTERMIND: "Sightless" is now the most-watched movie

of all time.

-Actually, I am.

MASTERMIND: Oh, I've heard the questions,

the ruminating, spoken in hushed tones.

Why?

Why do all this

just so everyone on the planet will replace the word "fart"...

- Fart? I hate that word!

MASTERMIND: with "pre-def"?

-Smelling my own pre-def!

- That's what I call it too. - Only losers say "fart."

Because we can!

Because we must!

Because without the efforts of every person in this room,

exerting unending and sometimes unexplainable control

over this planet and every single person upon it,

life itself ceases to have meaning...

to have purpose!

[loud pre-defs]

MASTERMIND: Now, please,

raise your glass and drink with me.

To the future!

- HENCHMEN: To the future! - [thunder booms]

[dramatic classical music]

♪

[upbeat indie pop song]

♪ I don't give a fuck, Daddy ♪

♪ Tell me what you want from me ♪

♪

♪ See that look in your eyes ♪

♪ I can tell where this is going ♪

♪

♪

♪

♪