All language subtitles for Horace and Pete s01e05.eng

- Well, shit.

Can I get a drink?

- Yeah.

- I got it.

- Thanks, Pete.

- Sylvi, anything?

- Yeah, I'll have a beer.

- Mom, you shouldn't.
- Shut up, Brenda!

- So how many more, uh,
treatments do you need to get?

- I don't know.

- She goes every week for the--
- Brenda, I said I didn't know.

I didn't say I want to know.

- Sorry!
(crying)

(Marsha chuckles)

- Why are you laughing?

- She's crying at a wake,
but not because of who died.

She's crying because of what
a cunt her mother is!

- Jesus Christ.

I thought Uncle Pete was
the mean one.

- Hey, don't speak ill
of the dead.

- I'm speaking ill
of the still left alive.

- All right, come on,
can we all just have...

a drink now
in honor of my dad?

- Your dad, that's a laugh.

- All the same,

he was here every day
in our lives.

And now he's gone.

And we survive him, so...

can we just have a drink
for him, huh?

Can we do that?

To Uncle Pete.

May he, uh...

live on in... you know...

- Yeah, Uncle Pete was, uh,
he was really something.

And he always said what he felt.

- Oh, please, those are exactly
the kinds of things

I'd have said
at every asshole's wake.

- Okay, well, this is that
particular asshole's wake,

so I'm saying it.

- Uncle Pete.

I don't understand.

Horace: What?

- Why-- why did he do it?

Why did he kill himself?

- I don't know, I...

I mean, maybe he was lonely.

(Marsha chuckles)

- What is so fucking funny
to you now?

- Lonely people,
"Ooh, I'm so lonely."

- You were never lonely?
- Never.

- Yeah, 'cause you're drunk
all the time.

- That's right.

- So if you didn't drink,
you'd-- you'd be lonely?

- I don't know.

I've never stopped long enough
to find out.

- What, you mean...

There must've been some time
in your life

where you just, you know--

You didn't drink when you were
a baby, right? So...

How old were you
when you started drinking?

- 13.

I mean, I developed early,
you know, tits and everything,

so I used to go out
with the high school boys.

- High school boys at 13?

- Hey, I knew girls back
in high school

that were 16 or 17
when they got married.

I mean, that's what girls did.

You were a child,
you were a teenager,

then you looked for somebody
who wanted you,

and you married them, that's it.

- So you drank with high school boys
when you were 13 years old.

- Sure.

Yeah.

We used to jump in cars
and drive out to Rockaway Beach,

build a great big fire
and drink gin

or whatever anybody had.

I was, uh...

I was 13.

I mean,
the other girls were older,

but I looked just as good
as they did.

Better than most.

(chuckles)

Yeah.

And I liked boys...

a lot.

So, you know,
we'd laugh and we'd drink

and we'd lie in the sand
and... kiss.

It was fun.

It was really, really...

It was really fun.

Some of those girls, they, um,
married some of those guys

when they turned 18
and got a job.

But me?
(scoffs)

I got knocked up.

(sighs)

And in those days,
you didn't have a choice.

I mean, you just had the baby.

I was young and stupid.

I went through my eighth grade
pregnant.

Then I had the baby
and I gave it away.

So...

pretty soon after that,
I-- I-- I don't know,

I quit school.

I started working.

But I'd learned how to drink,
so I just kept doing that.

And, uh...

I don't know,
then I started drinking here.

And your father liked me,
so I moved in with him...

- And then he died.

And since then,
Pete has been supporting you

out of the cash register,
and you drank here free.

- Yeah, that's right.

- And-- and then Pete died.
- Mm-hmm, yes, he did.

- So there is less and less reason for
anybody here

to give a shit
what happens to you.

- Jesus Christ, Sylvia.
- Right?

Well, if she's just another one
of Dad's bad choices,

is she supposed
to be his fucking legacy?

Really, Horace, wha-- wha--

When can we let go
of all this shit?

- You want me to kick--
kick her out?

You want me to cut her off?
What do you want me to do?

- I don't know, Horace.
I'm tired!

I can't fight for you anymore.

- How are you fighting
for me?

- Yeah, you should kick me out,
Horace, go ahead.

You don't owe me anything.

You can turn this place
into a Starbucks,

and you can all move
to fuckin' Connecticut.

- I can't close this place.

- Why not?!

- Because then
his retarded brother

would end up on the streets.

- I'm not retarded.

- Jesus Christ,
nobody is retarded.

God, I fucking hate Brooklyn
so much.

- Hey, I don't need
this place to live.

- Well, she is right.

Pete, this is the only place
you've ever lived

outside the hospital.

- I'm capable of a lot more
than any of you think.

- Yeah, like what?

Someday you'll walk into a mall
and shoot everyone?

- Never mind me.

I'm saying this isn't about me.

I'm saying I'm not the reason
to keep this place open

and neither is Marsha.

If you want to kick her out,
kick her out.

She's had her run here.

She was your dad's
pleasure chest,

and then my dad honored him
by keeping her here.

But, yeah, I mean,
we don't have to do anything.

Yeah, we don't owe you
anything, Marsha.

Nobody does.

And you don't owe me
anything, Horace...

or Sylvi.

I'm not your brother,
I never was.

I'm your cousin.

You want to shut
this place down, go ahead.

- I'm not shutting it down.
- Why not?

- Because that just feels harder
than keeping it open right now.

- Look, I met this guy last week who
said,

"You could walk out
of this building right now

and sell this place for upwards
of $6 million."

We could split that
$3 million each.

- What about Pete?
- What about Pete?

You just said, right?
- Yeah.

I'm just your cousin.

She's right, you should do it.

- What for?

I mean, give me a reason to do
that, why would I--

- $3 million.

- Then what? I mean, that's--

You get that kind of money
when you're young

and you use something
to build it with, right?

I'm gonna tear this down

and then get the money
and live, what--

I'm 50 years old.
- Give it to your kid.

- I won't take a penny of that.

But you should do it
if you want to.

- My mom needs that money.
She has cancer.

- Brenda, get out.
I mean it, get out right now

and go home.
- Mom.

- Get out. Oh, stand up
and walk out that door.

I do not want you in here.
- Mom!

I have been here for--
- Get out!

(Brenda crying)

- Okay, well,

um, you guys have a great day.
Bye.

And when one of you dies,
I'll see the rest of you.

So...

- Honey...
- Bye.

- Hey, let me have one more,
Pete, huh?

The last one.

Well, so long.

(light knocking on door)

- Yeah, yeah.

Hey, are you guys open?

- Yeah.
- Yeah, they're open.

Uh-huh. No, they're all here.
Please come save me.

- Horace, I don't know
if I can go anywhere.

- Why don't you come upstairs
and take a lie-down, okay?

Come on, I'll get you a cab
or something, but just--

You need to rest, okay?

- Hi.
- Hi.

- Can I get a Corona
and two vodka martinis?

- No mixed drinks, no Corona.

Budweiser, Scotch, bourbon,
straight vodka, straight gin.

- Serious? How the fuck
do you expect to stay open?

- Hey, this bar's been here
for a hundred years.

- Serious?
- Yeah.

- Why is it called
Horace and Pete's?

- 'Cause it's our place.

That's Horace and I'm Pete.

- So you guys are like
a hundred years old, too?

- No, you see, this place was
opened in 1916

by two brothers named
Horace and Pete,

and each of them had a son.

Horace had a son Horace,
Pete had a son Pete--

- Look, man, I would just really love a
fucking beer right now.

Do I have to listen to this?

You want to tell me the origin story of
this stool here?

Yawn, I mean, please don't.

I'm sorry, my family's in town,
it's stressing me out.

- It's all right.

(sighs)

- God, Horace,
I fucking hate this.

- It's bad, huh?

- God, you have no idea.

I sure didn't.

You know, I've seen people
go through this,

and it looks awful.

When you see them
with the kerchief on their head,

you're like, oh, God,
that looks bad.

But you really can't know,
you can't climb inside somebody

and know what it feels like
to have your blood

replaced by battery acid.

- Fuck. Sorry.

- Horace, can I stay here tonight?

- Yeah, stay in your room.
- Thanks.

Oh, God, no please.
That's not what I want.

I'll just sleep here
on the couch, is that okay?

- Sure.
- Thanks.

- You kinda pushed Brenda
away there.

I mean, she was--
she was taking care of you,

and you literally told her,
"Go fuck off."

- And I don't regret it.

Believe it or not, much as
I need her, I would rather die.

- That's a little fucked up, Sylvia.

She's taking care of you.

- You don't know that one, Horace.

She's got this way of leveraging
my needs against me.

Just honestly,
I'd rather fend for myself.

- All right, well,
it's your choice.

- So, look,
I'll just stay here tonight,

and, uh, in the morning,
I'll get an Uber to Sloan.

And I'll just-- I'll go home.
I'll be out of your hair

and, uh, out of mind
soon thereafter, I'm sure.

Fuck.

- How are you, um...?

I mean, are you still working?
Did you go back to work?

- No, Horace,
I got laid off in April.

- You did?
- Yeah.

Yeah, I saved enough money
for maybe six months.

This cancer's just ripping through it.

- What about insurance?

- Insurance, uh, covers
medical costs,

but I didn't know is you just start
throwing money

up all over the place.

You know, life gets fucking expensive
when you start dying.

You know,
it's a fucking nightmare.

- You're not dying.

You're not dying.

- What-- what happened
to Rachel anyway?

(Horace chuckles)

- I kicked her out.

- You did?
Jesus Christ, why?

She was-- I mean, she was okay.

I didn't love her,
but she was crazy about you.

- Yeah, well...

(clicks tongue)
You know, the only thing worse

than living with somebody
who doesn't love you...

- Your first marriage?
- Yeah.

...is living with somebody
who really loves you a lot.

- Really?
- Yeah.

- Oh, oh, man.

Well, what are you gonna do?

- I mean, I'm all right.

She's the one
who got kicked out.

She's living with her brother.

So her whole family
hates me now.

- Yeah, you got to get jaded
to people hating you, Horace.

Anybody who gets to their 40s

without at least 10 people hating them
is just an asshole.

- How do you figure that?

- Well, if people hate you,

you're probably taking care
of yourself, right?

If nobody hates you,

you're probably just
some asshole

who's a burden
on everybody around you, right?

- Yeah.
(chuckles)

I'm gonna go to bed.

- All right.

(Horace sighs)

- You need anything?

- Yeah, a bucket.

- Bucket.
- Yeah.

- Bucket.

- Or whatever.

- Are you gonna puke right now?

- At some point, uh...

- Here you go.

- That's pretty, thank you.

- Hey, it's nice, uh,
nice to have you here.

- Good night, honey.

- Good night.

(man humming)

(man vocalizing)

-
Horace and Pete

- You know, I can't in my head

climb into
another person's life.

You know, like--
like I was dating this guy,

and he used to take me
to the symphony,

the, uh, New York Philharmonic,

and I hated it so much.

I mean, the music just droning
on and on and...

And everyone's sitting there
like in their seats

like dressed up,
looking down like...

You know, like they're fucking
appreciating it.

And it's like-- it made me
so mad 'cause I'm like,

you're all fucking faking it.

I don't believe you like this
for a second.

This is a con job.

And you look down on the stage
and there's this orchestra.

And it's like 50 guys
in their little tuxedos,

and they're playing
their hearts out.

And I see this trombone player.

But he's not like
the trombone player.

He's like second in a line
of 10 trombone players.

You know how hard that guy
had to work?

Like since he was fuckin' five.

You know, so if by the time
you're five,

you haven't decided you want
to be the second trombone player

of the New York Philharmonic,
you're too late.

Like if that's your goal
at eight, you're a loser.

You know, so like
who's that guy?

Who's the guy the age of five knows he
wants to spend

his whole life playing the trombone for
the Philharmonic?

- David Finlayson.

- What?

- David Finlayson,

he's the second trombone
for the New York Philharmonic.

- How the fuck do you know that?

- It's-- it's public information.

- So... I wasn't talking
to you anyway.

- Maybe you shouldn't
ask questions

unless you want
to hear the answers.

- Wow, you know what I wish?

I wish it could be
Trump and Bernie Sanders

as co-presidents.

- Jesus, why?

- Because they're the only ones

that tell the truth
about anything, you know?

Bernie's the only Democrat
that's willing to admit

he's gonna hold a gun
to rich people's heads

and make 'em pay for everything.

And Trump's the only Republican
who's willing to admit

that he doesn't give a shit
or know anything about anything

and it's all a crooked game that
just he knows how to play.

So then you'd have
this amazing system where like

Bernie takes all the rich people's money

and Trump just keeps giving it
back to 'em in bribes

that keep the economy running.

- What kind of a way is that
to run a country?

- Well, it's not, it's gonna be
a fuckin' disaster.

But it'll reveal
the true nature of our system

and they'll just tear it
all down,

just leave a fuckin' mess,

so rich people
still have everything,

but a dollar won't be
worth a dime,

so who cares if you're rich?

- All right, so you're saying

just tear down what's there
and-- and rebuild.

Like build a better system.

We can go back
to the barter system.

You know, trade goods
and services amongst each other.

Form local militias.

Just build it back up,
start from scratch.

But get it right.

- No, I'm saying fuck all this.
Just like let it burn.

We deserve it.
Fuck this country.

- Hey, watch it.
- Why?!

- I don't know,
you're supposed to say that

when someone says the thing
you said.

- Hello, excuse me, can I get
another fuckin' beer, please?

Maybe make it taste more
like piss this time.

And super warm, really super--
Oh, whoa!

Oh, are we pushing?

Does your little elbow
need more room?

Oh, now you're standing.

Oh, I am not scared of you, man,
just because you're tall.

My fuckin' dad was taller
than you.

Punch me in the face.

I have been pummeled by men
bigger than you.

- Guys...
- I will fuckin' kill you.

I will rip your throat open!
- Jesus.

- Okay.
- Hey, whoa, whoa.

Tom, sit down.
It's all right.

- Yeah, Tom, sit down.

- You gotta go.
- I gotta go?

- Yeah, you gotta go.
- Tom should fuckin' go.

- Well, it's gotta be
one of you.

- I live down the block, so...
- Today it's-- yeah, okay.

- Fuck you.
I will see you tomorrow.

- Hey, good morning.
- Good morning.

- Hey, Sylvi.

You okay? I heard you were
feeling lousy last night.

- Yes, Pete, I have cancer.

- I know.
I know that.

- Hey, guys, can we... talk?

Can we have a minute?
Let's talk through this.

- I-- I have a minute.

- Let me have it, please.

- Well, I got to watch the bar.

- Buy them a round.

- Yeah, good idea.

All right, folks,
this one is on the house.

So... is everything okay?

- Yeah, look, um...

Listen, okay,
so we just lost Uncle Pete,

and part of me says
let's respect that.

(piano playing)

But part of me thinks,
listen, we got a lot of--

we have a few decisions,
big decisions to make

that affect all of us.

So maybe we just get on with it
and start talking about...

- Okay, Horace, Sylvi,

I think I should...
lay it on the line.

All right, I said some stuff yesterday,

you know,
trying to be a tough guy

when I said...

"I don't care
if you sell this place,

I don't need this, I'll be okay
without this."

Well, I won't.

I just won't, so please,
please don't sell it, Horace.

Please.

And Sylvi, don't make him.

I know he doesn't like
to say no to you.

I mean, yeah, I'm in my 50s

and I've never lived
anywhere else.

I've never worked
anyplace else, I...

I mean, this place
and our family

is my life.

So, I mean,
Uncle Pete was my dad

and I-- I never even knew it.

So you guys are all I have.

And I don't know what I'll do.

And I know it sounds like
I'm begging,

and I guess I am, but...

And I'm ashamed.

But I don't have a choice.

- Pete, Sylvia is very sick.

- I know that, don't you think
I've taken that into account?

I know that.
- She's also broke.

- Horace...
- And she doesn't have

enough money to pay her bills
or her rent.

- Thanks, Horace,
stop please.

- Yeah, well,
that's what's going on!

You're here trying
to close the place

'cause you need the money.

Okay? And yes...

Pete won't have any place to work or
live without this place

or anywhere to get his pills.

- Right, so you're pitting
his needs against mine.

- Yeah, and yours against his,

because that's what
this is... guys.

And there's no good answer.

- Well, then why don't we sell
this fucking place?

If you want, we'll split it three ways,
I don't care.

- But what about this place?

What about it? I mean, this--
this place has been here

for a hundred years.

Do you know
what that means, Sylvia?

- When World War II ended,

people came in here
to celebrate.

All right, during Prohibition,
the first Horace and Pete

sold near-beer
and corned beef sandwiches

just to keep it open.

You know how many bad times
this place got through,

and we're just gonna sell it?

What about all those traditions?
- Fuck all of that, Pete.

They're all dead, all of them.
They're gone.

We don't have to hang on

to any of that fucking
bullshit for them.

They are gone.
We are here.

We have need.

- Okay, so we sell the place
and then it's gone.

And then we have a little bit of money
and then-- and then what?

- Horace...
- I got another idea.

(chuckling)
Okay.

What if we split it three ways,
like she's saying,

but we keep it open?

- Oh, fuck.

- Yeah, like come in with us
is what I'm saying, Sylvi.

Help us run it.

Live upstairs and I'll take care of you
while you're sick

and you'll get better,

and then you help us turn
this place into something.

- That's never gonna...

It's always been just
the two guys, Horace and Pete.

- Yeah, well, fuck that,
like she said.

They're dead, they're all gone,
and it's just us.

It's just the three of us, okay?

So I'm saying, bring her in.
Turn it into something new.

- Horace, I don't want that.
I don't wanna run a fucking bar.

- Well, it's an option, Sylvia,
and you don't have a lot, okay?

And I don't care if he's
our cousin or he's our brother,

but I'm not-- I'm not throwing him out
on the street for you.

Or for myself.
- To live in Brooklyn again?

- Yeah, Brooklyn's coming up,
remember?

Sylvia, I don't care what
we turn it into,

but this one we could do together.

I mean, fuck the Horace and Pete shit
right now.

Take the pictures down
and let's change the name

and let's just-- let's--
- No, no, no, no, no.

Leave it just--
leave it the way it is.

Keep everything exactly
the way it is.

Do you have any idea how hard
it is to start a new business?

Just leave it--
leave it like it is.

- Okay.

- Um, just for the record, Sylvia,

I would--
I would really love that.

To have you here, I mean.

Maybe it means something
and maybe it doesn't,

but I-- I miss, you know...

- What good am I gonna be
to anybody here?

I'm a mess,
I'm, you know, I have cancer.

- Sylv-- not for long.
I mean, come on.

Come on, Sylvi,
you're gonna be fine.

I feel bad for the cancer.

Fuck that.

- I don't know, Horace,
I don't know if I can do it.

I don't know
if I'd want to do it.

I don't know if I can do it.

I got to go.

Yeah.

(Marsha sighs)

- Bye.
- Good-bye.

See you later.
- Yeah.

- You're gonna be okay.
- Thanks.

- You just came up with that.

And you sprung it on me.
- Mm-hmm.

- I mean, you didn't consult me
before-- bef...

- No, I didn't.

She probably won't do it anyway.

- And if she doesn't, then what?

- Then I'll-- I'll have to sell
the place, Pete.

- I mean, the fucking Internet is the
worst thing in the world.

It's ruining everything,
you know.

I-- I hate the Internet.

- So turn it off.

You can turn the Internet off,
you know that, right?

- Yeah, the Internet's got
an on/off switch.

Not like life.

Life just has an off switch.

Which is still pretty cool.

You can punch out
whenever you want, you know.

And the interesting thing is,
no matter how bad life gets,

most people will not flick
that switch, you know?

Even in the most--

actually, especially in the most
miserable time and place,

most people choose
to participate

when they do not have to.

- Just like the Internet.

- Or look at it like Syria,
that ain't gonna get no better.

Those people got no future.

It's ISIS and poison gas
for the lot of 'em.

But you don't hear
about any mass suicides there.

Why don't they all just
kill themselves?

- Imagine if one night,

everyone in the world
killed themselves.

Even babies.

Imagine a baby killing himself.

- I saw a baby
kill himself once.

- Well, good for the baby,
you know.

At least he didn't
stick around complaining

about how bad his baby life was,
like some people.

Holy shit, that annoys me.

Every time someone complains
about their shitty life,

I'm like, "Hey, why don't you
just get the fuck out?

"No one's keeping you here, okay?

Just go."

I will never understand that,

why more people with bad lives
don't just peace the fuck out.

- Because maybe
it'll get better.

(jukebox playing)

-
The morning came

-
Hell, no

(record scratching)

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