All language subtitles for American Dad! - S18E16 - Plot Heavy-ing

Ahh, the perfect night
for the Smith family picnic.

I always feel so fancy
walking into a gated community.

Our community, Mom.

We're property owners here.

Hustle up, guys.

If we want to picnic
on the family gravesite,

we need butts on blankets
by sunset,

and we've only got...

one fist... of time, I guess.

Still don't know
how people do that.

Wow!
The view up here is amazing.

It better be.

It's the swankiest neighborhood
in the whole cemetery.

Can you imagine being buried
down there by the restrooms?

That's where the runoff
from our bodies ends up.

And you know we're getting the
leakiest coffins money can buy.

Papa, what is this?

Who is this dark weeper
on our land?

Babe, isn't that
our forever home?

Hey, all our plots are filled.

- What gives?
- Phew.

Mine still looks normal.

All right, I think I may know
what happened here.

Little while ago, I sold
our plots for some quick cash.

I was planning to buy them back
before we needed them,

but apparently, someone's family

had to go and walk
into a mass tragedy.

Yeah, our family!

Dad, my grave was
the one nice thing I owned.

How could you do this?

To buy the sweet Sea-Doos
we'll all be enjoying.

Soon as I sell a few things, get
some quick cash for a trailer.

But who wants Jet Skis?!

We want our graves!

Hey, there's a lot of pressure
that comes

with being the decision-maker
in the family.

Not every one of them
is gonna be a home run.

Stan, fix it.

How?
This looks like a done deal.

Just fix it!

Let's just get out
of here, okay?

I can't listen
to this shit anymore.

How recent was your tragedy?

Like five minutes ago?
God!

Is this God's office?

God wishes.
The cemetery owner's.

Okay, when we get in there,

I want us to be prepared
for the worst.

We may need to take
a worse plot.

You messed this up, Stan.

You go fix it.

Entrée!

Wh... You're not Postmates.

Postmates?
Aren't you roasting a pig?

Oh, this?
I just like the smell.

Oh, you're a guest, then.
I love guests.

Take a look around.
Whiff the pig.

I have all the right
and good stuff.

Here.
Touch this old thing.

Can you sense
its temporal immensities?

I wanted to talk to you

about buying another plot
for my family.

- See, we ran into a...
- We're full.

- What?
- The cemetery.

It's full up, I'm afraid,
ever since Gwyneth Paltrow

mentioned us as her favorite
summering cemetery

in an article on Goop.

10 Places to Be Buried
Before You Die.

Yeah, I get the newsletter.

Everyone was begging
to get in after that.

I made millions.

Ooh, do you want to watch me
ride a penny farthing?

I'll need a boost.
And a push.

Uh-huh. But there has to be
something left, right?

Please.
I'm desperate.

Well...

I have two spots here,
but you won't want them.

I'll take anything!
Thank you.

I'm not leaving until I get an
eyeful of you on that high bike.

The plots are in
Pedophile Alley?

But this is only
for confirmed pedophiles!

And if it's only two plots,
how are we all gonna fit?

You can squeeze
with your mother.

The liver disease will
leave her rail-thin anyway.

Preach.

I get this looks bad,

but I'm no sicko.

The cemetery pays me
to desecrate these graves

by peeing on them.

It's the only way
the city would sanction

a burial site like this.

Okay.
Take care.

Camembert, anyone?

What?

You always do this.

You make big dumb decisions
based on big dumb ideas,

and it ends up
hurting all of us.

I'm sick of it!

We're all sick of it!

Well, I'm sick
of all this criticism.

I'd like to see you
do any better.

We can't do any worse
than picnicking on pedophiles!

All right, then.
Be my guest.

My final decision
as family shot caller

is that you can all call
the shots from now on.

Fine. We obviously need
a new place to be buried.

- Agreed.
- Top priority.

But we need money because
Dad spent it all on Jet Skis.

One of my personas
is buried here.

You guys need money?

This place is making
a tidy profit,

and there's clearly
still a demand.

Is that piss?

God, who keeps doing that?

Maybe this is crazy, but if
we opened our own cemetery,

we could make money and give
ourselves the best plots!

Two birds, one stone.

More like one tombstone.

Tombstone.

Your first big decision
is to open a cemetery?

That is, without a doubt,

the dumbest idea
I have ever heard.

You need land for that!

Well, I think it's a great idea.

And we already have the land.

The backyard!

No one ever goes back there,
anyway.

Steve, I apologize.

Your idea isn't
the dumbest anymore.

Your mother's is.

Well, I think it rules, Mom.

Me too.

Sure, or...

and this is just another way

we could make money
with the backyard...

poolside club.

We open up cabanas back there
and sell bottle service.

It's friggin' lucrative.

I went to Lindsay Lohan's
Beach Club

and paid $40 for a chicken
Caesar wrap that never came.

And I loved it!

I tipped another $40.

But that's me.
I like to splash.

All right.

Well,
if your remission takes a turn,

you have my number.

Well, that was every
old person I know.

Every one, healthy as an ox.

Gosh, awfully dead around here,
isn't it?

I guess you could say
this cemetery situation...

Hang on.
I worked hard on this one.

I don't want you to miss it.

Remains grave!

Two puns!
Call me Ol' Stanny-Two-Puns!

Francine?

Did you go in another room?

Okay, we don't have
any business,

and that's not something
we can rub in Stan's face.

We just need some
outside-the-box ideas

for getting bodies
in the ground.

How did that other cemetery
make so much money?

Gwyneth Paltrow
bought a plot there.

Hey, what if we got
an even bigger celebrity

to buy a plot here?

Yeah, but who's bigger
than Gwyneth Paltrow?

I once saw a woman
bigger than her.

In the movie Shallow Hal.

But that turned out
to be her, too.

Let's each take
the rest of the day

to brainstorm some names.

Scottie Pippen!

And look!

He's coming through town
in a few days on a book tour

of his new Navy thriller,
Deep Danger.

Then it's settled.

We need NBA Hall of Famer
Scottie Pippen

- to save our cemetery.
- Do we, though?

I feel like we're really just
latching onto the first idea

out of the gate each time.

Maybe if we revisit
some other ideas...

Oh, my God, no one is feeling
your pool pub or whatever.

"Pool pub"?

It's a poolside club!

There's so much human fluid
in those things,

you can walk away pregnant
just by swimming through it.

So freaking cool.

You're talkin' a poolside club
back here?

Killer idea.

Thank you!
They won't listen.

They're so horny to get
Scottie Pippen instead.

They're getting Pippen
to save the cemetery?

Damn, that's
a really good choice.

I never would have
thought of that.

Maybe they're right about me.

Maybe I do make bad decisions.

Stan, do you think it's possible

that without the family around
to doubt you,

you're starting to doubt
yourself a little?

No way.
Then again, what do I know?

A second ago, I said I liked one
of your ideas, and I meant it.

I mean, that's gotta be
a red flag, right?

No, you were right to like it.

My idea is special.

I gotta nip this in the bud.

My signature decisiveness
is who I am.

Just gotta make
one really great choice

and see it through to success

to get back up
on that confidence horse.

"Confidence horse"?

Where did that come from?

I'm an idiot.

I can fix this.

Just one big decision
that everything can ride on.

That's all it takes.

And that decision is...

poolside club?

Is... Is that okay?

Are you really deferring to me?

Yeah, I think I am.

Then mount up, Stan.

Because I will be
your confidence horse.

More people than I thought.

It's fine.
I'm a cucumber.

Just get me close enough
to get a shot off.

I love you so much, babe.

You brought a gun?!

Jeff, you cannot
shoot Scottie Pippen.

But your mom said we need
his body to save the junkyard.

Cemetery. And we only need him
to buy a plot.

We just have to talk to him.

Next.
What am I signing?

With any luck,
an invoice for a coffin!

Mr. Pippen, have you put any
thought into your burial plan?

Mm, I have been meaning

to get my affairs in order
for awhile now.

Well, we have a gorgeous
little cemetery

we'd love to show you some ti...

Okay.

Oh, right now?
Great!

This little guy's not with you,
is he?

He's got a bad energy.

He's all sweaty
like we're on a date.

This isn't a trick date
with this dude, is it?

Don't worry
about me, Mr. Poppins.

I was just nervous from before
about killing you.

Do you really have 11 siblings?

How did you guys
go to the movies?

Is the Olympic Village
really just one big sex pile?

How many feet high are you?

Was the set of He Got Game
really just one big sex pile?

I'm sorry if my family

seems a little starstruck,
Mr. Pippin.

We're all huge fans of yours.

I'm gonna be honest with you.
My book sales are down.

That's why I agreed
to come here.

So, you'll buy a plot?

I can do better.

What would you say
to burying me here tonight?

Everybody make up
their damn minds!

My publisher thinks
I'll sell more books

if I fake my own death.

I'd get a chance to make
the best-sellers list,

and you'll get to lock in
a celebrity here forever.

I would just need to lay low
with you for a while.

So what do you say?

Goodbye, Scottie Pippen.

And hello, savings!

While other cemeteries may ask
an arm and a leg for burial,

our family business
believes your limbs

should be buried with you.

Unless they were lost

in an industrial accident
or something. Ha.

Down here at Sweet Surrender,
we got deals to die for

and burial sites
for every taste.

From water features

to lush greenery,

we got it all, basically.

And we're excited to announce
starting today,

the only thing lower
than our prices

is the body of NBA champion
Scottie Pippen!

He's dead.

So come on down
to the best little cemetery

in Langley Falls,
Sweet Surrender,

and spend eternity
with Scottie Pippen.

Who is, as we just proved,

dead now.

When did you get a TV in here?

Um, around the same time
as the whiteboard.

Oh. Okay.
Back to work.

Now, we need a theme
that's going to scream cool,

unique, exclusive.

Good luck
topping this one Stan...

A Night to Remember.

What do you have?

World War I Christmas Truce.

It's bad.
I hate it.

Hey, buddy, come on.
I like it.

I'm putting it on the board,
I like it so much.

But we'll just know
in our hearts

that we're doing mine, okay?

Menu items!
Hit me.

Cream-top lasagne?

Did you say spiked soft-serve?

- Did I?
- Yes!

Adult ice cream.
I love it.

We'll call it hard serve.
What do you think?

I don't know.

Great.
It's settled.

Now, suspenders
for the bartenders.

I personally like
the denim ones.

The kind with the buckles
at the tops

and they're, like,
part of the pants.

- Overalls?
- No!

Stan, your ideas are terrible!

Okay.

Denim suspenders locked in.

Moving on.

We're sorry for your loss.

But take comfort,
your grandmother's coffin

will be touching
Scottie Pippen's for eternity.

It's all she ever wanted.

Cha-ching!

Boy, I thought the commercial

might help move the needle
a little,

but to fill up in one day?

Wow.

And to think, all these people

wanted to buried next to me,

world-famous novelist
Scottie Pippen.

And they're starting to stink.

We should maybe come up
with some sort

of a refrigeration system.

No time. We've got a lot
of bodies to prepare.

You know, we could just
put up the headstones

and dump all these in the pool.

Seal it over with concrete.
You mean a mass grave?

Yes! Thank you, Steve,
for putting words to my idea.

I love all the support and
positivity without Stan around.

Where's Dad been lately?

And we should have a very chill,
very bored hot lady

in a glass case behind the bar.

What's that smell?

That's the sweet smell
of success.

Take a whiff, Stan.

The dumbest idea
you've ever heard worked.

Best of all,
we did it without you.

How does that feel?

Bad.

Well... good.

- Dad, are you okay?
- He's fine.

You have to get these bodies
out of here.

Stan and I are doing the bar

- in the backyard idea.
- You're what?

And the health inspector
is coming tomorrow

- to give us the all clear.
- What?!

I can barely believe it, either!

This has been a dream of mi...

How dare you!

Sabotage!

This is a new low, Dad.

Yeah.
Eat shit, sad guy!

Admit it, you knew a health
inspector would shut us down.

You don't care about
Klaus's stupid thing.

You just want us to fail.

Dad, you want us to fail?

I don't know.

If I do, I'm sorry.
Probably.

At least I think I'm sorry.

Klaus, what am I?

You're on the clock!
Let's get to work.

Look, you've got
your stupid thing going on,

and Stan and I
have my good thing,

and they are separate things.

Now, stop distracting
my employee.

He has napkins to fold!

And make it snappy, Stan!

This isn't Easter brunch
at the White House!

This is a place where
people will have sex

in the port-o-potties!

I thought I would
hate doing this,

but it's actually giving me

some exciting ideas
for my new novel.

Thank you!
Just leave 'em by the door.

Yeah, just like some really
good plots for my new novel.

Fine.

What's your new novel about,
Scottie?

The President.
On a submarine.

How does any of this make you
think of any of that?

I don't know.

But you can picture it, right?

"That's not just an order,
radar guy.

It's an executive order."

It's getting a little backed up
in here!

When can I start
rouging these guys?

It takes however long
it takes, Jeff!

How did you even
get on makeup duty?

'Cause makeup's my passion!

Wow.

Who hasn't been listening
all these years?

Come on, Frannie.

The health inspector
will be here any minute,

and this is still
our first burial.

I say we bury her with him.

I'll wait 30 seconds,
but then I'm filling it in.

We aren't gonna make it.

This isn't gonna work.

Thank God!
Can we quit now?

All this work
is honestly not worth it

just to prove Dad wrong.

Change of plans.

Stan!

He's busy.

What can I help you with?

I need your club for the night.

Club Sweet Surrender?

I'll check availability.

I'm not renting it.
You're giving it to me.

You've got just as much to lose
as we do

if that health inspector
sees all the wrong kind

of hardbodies
at your little club.

Hmm, if what she says is right,
she might be right.

What do you want the club for,
anyway?

We're gonna Weekend at Bernie's
this bitch.

Hey!

You must be
the health inspector.

The club's in the back.

Jet Skis.
Very cool.

I don't agree.

Okay.

What are those back there?

Kickboards.

- Really?
- Of course.

In fact, I was just thinking
about getting some laps in.

See?

Kickboards at a club...

are healthy.

Great shot!

Nice return!

How did you
get to that one?

What'll you have?
I'll take a cranberry juice.

So, any skeletons in the closet
I should know about?

Oh. Hello.

Janeane!
Who the hell is this?

You know I hate it
when you flirt with other men.

Now, shut up forever
and kiss me.

Whoo-hoo!

Your club is sick,

and I mean that in the way
I think my son means it.

A-plus inspection.

That's great news.
Thank you for coming.

Ooh, and I'd love
to get the number

of that little lady
I met in the cabana.

I didn't catch her name,

but we didn't exactly do much
talking if yaknowwhaddamean.

Yes!
We pulled it off!

I don't understand.

I succeeded, but I don't
have my confidence back.

Well, Stan, it was more
of my success.

Stan, why did you try
to torpedo our cemetery?

Torpedo is a underwater gun.

You said we could decide things
for ourselves,

but when we did, you hated
that we were succeeding.

Of course I did!

You were all doing so well
without me, and...

I got scared.

I started thinking maybe you
don't need Ol' Stanny-Two-Puns

and his dumb decisions
to kick around anymore.

But I swear, I wasn't
trying to sabotage you.

Aww, Stan.

You're more than just
your decisions to us.

You're also the guy we get
to blame when they go wrong.

We need that.

Yeah, honestly,
that was a way easier system.

Dad, we were sorta hoping maybe
you'd take the reins again.

But it seemed like things
were going so well for you.

You don't want to keep
doing your cemetery?

- We hated it!
- So many guts!

I think it's affecting
our groundwater.

Well, I don't want to run
a club, especially with Klaus.

Because you don't want business
to ruin our friendship?

Was that an option?

Baby, we want you back.

But of course,
it's your decision.

I'll do it.

Now, what are you gonna do
with all these bodies?

Yeah, Dad, what the hell?

Don't worry.

I got this.

You sure you're okay with this,
Scottie Pippen?

You bet.
The sea will take care of me.

That's why they always
call me The Admiral.

- Wasn't that David Robinson?
- Who knows?

I will return when I have
written my next masterpiece.

See?
Not all my ideas are bad.

I got rid of the bodies,

and we can be buried
in our own backyard.

Two birds, one stone.

More like one tombstone!

Another all-timer, Roger!

Where do you come up with these?

My spectacular imagination!

What the ffff...

Have a great night!