Original subtitles

Another Oktoberfest in the books.

Now how are we getting home?

Steve doesn't have a license.

I'm hammered. Francine's wasted and Hayley is way too drunk to drive.

How can you tell?

Because when you abuse alcohol, I like you more as a person.

I can drive.

I stayed sober all night just so I could be the designated driver.

What about Jeff?

He can't. Remember?

He shattered his legs in the beer stein race.

Oh, God! My legs!

Gross! Get outta here!

Come on, Stan. Throw me the keys.

Absolutely not.

- What's the problem? - I already texted Klaus.

He'll get us home safe.

You guys want Klaus to drive instead of me?

Heck yeah, we do.

Klaus in the house.

More like Klaus in the truck. Hop in.

- Will you please take me to the ER? - No way.

I'm not wasting my buzz sitting around an ehmergmency room.

But the hospital's on the way home.

I could've skipped the hospital just as well as Klaus.

Oh, please, legs heal.

But there's no greater pain than staying sober all night for nothing.

Good morning, USA

I got a feeling That it's gonna be a wonderful day.

The sun in the sky Has a smile on his face.

And he's shining a salute To the American race.

Oh, boy, it's swell to say.

Good morning, USA Ah!

Good morning, USA.

I can't believe none of you would let me drive last night.

I was so upset, I had to journal about it,

and that's when I realized

none of you have gotten in a car with me for the past six months. Why not?

I'm just going to say it. You're the worst driver in the world.

Hayley, please, you know how much I love pointing out Roger's flaws,

but it's best we leave this to a professional.

That's why I scheduled an appointment with our insurance adjuster.

You think I need my insurance adjusted?

Well, I think you need your attitude adjusted.

Insurance adjuster Heinrich Brown.

Please, come in.

I'll make some room for you.

Oh, God, my arms!

Thank you, Stan. I'm here to explain the reasons Uncle Roger's a threat

to everything I hold dear as an insurance adjuster.

To do so,

I'll be using a form of street poetry colloquially known as rap.

Get up. Uh! Uh!

My name is Heinrich Brown And I'm here to say.

Uncle Roger drives in a terrible way.

Behind the wheel, he's negligent.

I'm sorry.

I just... I can't.

This hardened exterior is a lie.

I only pretend to be tough

because working in insurance requires a lot of machismo.

But I need to be honest with myself.

I don't want to rap. I want to.

Sing!

Uncle Roger, frankly There should be a hall of fame.

For all your accidents.

I heard they were building one and you drove right through it.

I guess the only thing left to say is.

All right, here we go.

Full singing

Roger, you know.

That you don't belong on the road.

But you can't let go.

It's so apropos.

That we're increasing your deductible

I told you I saw a bunch of people in the basement.

I still don't believe you.

No, you don't belong on the road.

But you can't let go.

Every single day.

You cause Stan to crash into a flag pole.

Oh, he's bashing.

He's going down, down, down

Roger, you know.

- That you don't belong on the road. - Somehow, so he walks away every time.

But you can't let go.

This song hurts my feelings, which sucks because it's already stuck in my head.

What a fabulous concert. Is this free?

It feels free because it's bundled with your insurance plan.

Free, free, free!

Dear journal.

I hope I can trust you in the way no one trusts me, which is a lot.

I'm still upset no one in this family will let me drive.

Roger, I know this is a great chance for a joke.

But I want to get straight to it.

I'm willing to give you driving lessons.

I guess I'd get to drive your sick truck.

Yes, but you have to be extremely careful.

My truck is a highly specific shade of orange

that's been proven to cause epileptic seizures.

So they don't make parts for it anymore.

To earn the family's trust back,

you're going to have to show them you can focus while you're driving.

Hey, look, a sign!

He's still allowed to adopt?

- Roger, God damn it, watch the road. - I can laugh and watch the...

Whee!

You crashed my perfect truck into that hideous Tesla.

Hmm. Tesla.

You better have good insurance, pal.

Oh, God. The orange of your truck is so highly...

Tesla, Tesla.

Roger, why did you invite us to Soso's?

Yeah, this place sucks.

It smells like cheap marinara and unpaid child support.

And the food, it tastes...

I want to say, bad?

Okay, you guys need to stop shitting on Soso's.

This is a perfectly fine restaurant for families on a budget.

Then why don't you eat some?

What? No, I don't want to die.

Speaking of not dying, I am finally willing to accept

that none of you want me to drive.

Thank you, Roger.

We appreciate you respecting our wishes.

Sorry. You didn't let me finish.

I'm willing to accept that none of you want me to drive

on Earth.

Wow. I've heard about five-star dining, but this is ridiculous.

Looks like at Soso's it's not just the savings that are out of this world.

No, no. I should take this seriously.

After all, there's a certain "gravity" to this situation.

We have fun.

Roger, what the hell is going on?

That's a fair question.

See, Soso's Pizzas are alien spaceships

placed throughout America in preparation for the reckoning.

Which is when an obscure alien race will destroy humanity

if they ever stop making Law & Order: SVU.

Everyone and their grandma knows about the reckoning.

We want to know what's going on with us being in space.

Well, earlier, through no fault of my own,

I crashed Klaus' truck into a Tesla.

That's when I remembered Tesla put a car in space.

And now that's where we are, space.

But why?

Because driving in space is way harder than driving on land.

Up here, even the slightest mistake will get us all killed.

So if I can do this, you'll have no choice

but to trust me behind the wheel of a car.

That's your plan to get us to trust you?

Yep. It was this or completely changing my personality

and earning it over the next five to 10 years.

So you can see how space makes a lot more sense for me.

I've got news.

The local Soso's Pizza was obliterated

in what people who might not even have been there

are calling a freak gas explosion.

No!

My babe and babe-in-laws were at that Soso's!

You lost your wife.

I lost my truck.

Could the day get any worse?

Hey, fish, I heard about your dead family and totaled car.

I'm sorry you're feeling down, but your premiums are going up.

Okay, going to keep it real simple.

Just a few quick maneuvers, then it's right back to Earth.

Ta-dah!

Watch out, Tesla.

Did you just get into a car accident in space?

And is it just me, or are we drifting

further and further from our sweet Mother Gaia?

Not to worry.

This is a perfect excuse to show off my most impressive

and unnecessary space maneuver.

It's called a planetary slingshot, and it's when...

You use the gravitational pull of a planet to accelerate or slingshot

your spacecraft toward your destination.

The math checks out.

FYI, you absolutely cannot look at the sun.

Looking directly into the sun at this proximity causes sun madness.

- Francine? - That's right.

And once you go sun mad,

you'll become so infatuated by that big ball of gas

that you'll do anything to burn up inside her.

Including foreplay.

Take us home, Venus.

Screwed the pooch on that one.

But if at first you don't succeed, come on, Mercury!

Well, third time's the charm.

But there's only two planets between Earth and the sun.

Nuh-uh. What about that one?

That's no planet.

It's a pepperoni.

Bad. So bad.

No big deal. I can turn around and fly home without a problem.

With one problem.

We're running low on fuel.

But we can still get back, right?

Oh, please let me do the math.

It's like I'm living in my own word problem.

Let's see. A ship of this size, account for the distance...

Good news, family.

If we continue at this speed,

we should have enough fuel to get home in

seven years?

What the hell, Roger? Your driving has ruined our lives.

All you've proven is that we were right not to trust you behind the wheel.

- Maybe we shouldn't trust you all. - Fine.

I'm going to go journal

and you better believe this next entry will be scathing.

Oh, God.

I would do anything to not feel this sad.

Well, research shows, and I don't want to do this,

but when two grief stricken adults lose everything but each other,

they heal their pain through boinking.

That's just science.

Ergo, my scientific term "boinking" instead of, you know,

sex.

Uh, no offense, Mr. Klaus, but I really don't want

to get on the train to Boinksville with you.

Me neither.

Let's hold out as long as we can.

I spy with my little eye something that is...

I know. Is it a star?

This is going to be a long seven years.

It's like a star,

but it's more like a pizzeria. And it's headed straight towards us.

It's docking. Someone, or something, is trying to come aboard.

Hey, gang. It's me, Roger.

No, I'm Roger.

We're both Roger.

Only difference is I'm from the future.

And my space tan makes me a teensy bit sexier.

So you're me, but from the future?

Oh. Hard to believe I was ever that naive.

But yes, you little cherub, I am.

How far into the future?

Three whole days.

That's not far, but still unusual.

How did you travel back to us?

I popped through a little wormhole.

That's impossible.

- If you suck at driving, it is. - Ha! He got you, Roger.

Hey, um, where's the future us?

They died a couple days ago.

I'm still a little sad about it.

Oh, that's terrible. Please, let us know...

Wait a minute. Do you mean us?

That's what I came back to warn you about.

If you stick with your plan to get back to Earth the slow way, you die.

Your only chance of getting home is to slingshot the sun.

Slingshotting? Sounds promising.

You're just going to trust this guy.

Look, young blood, you're the one who got us in this mess.

I'm trying to get us out of it.

That settles it. Future Roger is gonna slingshot us around the sun.

Great. I like future Roger.

He's got a weathered look that gives me wise cowboy vibes.

Mighty kind of you, little lady.

It feels great to have everyone's trust.

You'll just have to trust me on that.

Want your diary, buddy?

It's not a diary. It's a journal.

Like an explorer has.

I'm exploring my inner thoughts.

Wait a second.

This entry is dated three days from now.

This is future me's journal.

Dear journal. Some good news for a change.

I've fallen in love and you'll never guess who with.

Her name is the sun and I long to die inside her.

Alas, my family doesn't understand my love.

By the time we settled our differences, we'd been flying in circles so long

that the ship was almost completely out of fuel.

But if my calculations are correct, I should have just enough fuel

to get to a nearby wormhole and travel back in time.

Then I'll be able to take the past Smiths' ship

and fly us all right into the sun.

Holy crap.

Future me has gone totally sun mad.

And now the only one who can stop me is now me.

Soon, my sweet.

Soon.

Hey there, whippersnapper. What you been up to?

Oh, nothing. Just catching up on some light reading.

My journal!

I suppose that means you know the sun and I are lovers.

That old flooz? Buddy of mine raw-dogged her in Cancun,

said he caught a wicked case of melanoma.

Oh, sure. Slut shame the sun, real mature.

And so what? We all have a past.

Oh, a past?

Is that why she still wakes up every morning

and gives it to an entire hemisphere?

Oh, shit balls.

Rogers, what's going on here?

Oh, Stan, it was awful.

I was preparing for our slingshot when he detached my ship

and threw my journal into space.

Roger, how could you?

You know how important that journal is to yourself.

It was him.

He's trying to kill us.

He has sun madness.

You've got to believe me.

No, I don't.

If I couldn't trust you before,

there's certainly no reason for me to trust you now.

Come on, future Roger.

Let's get you outta here.

It's all a ruse.

He's selfish and manipulative.

He cares more about getting what he wants

than he does about this family's safety... Oh!

This is what it's like for the family all the time.

I get it now.

Wow. When will I stop growing?

- Roger. - Roger.

I took the liberty of upgrading your seat belts.

- Good looking out. - We can always count on you.

Now that you're restrained,

I should probably mention that I have sun madness.

Completely addicted to the sun.

But don't worry, I'm working through a 12-step program

and the first step is admitting I have a problem.

The second step, flying directly into the sun.

Why isn't it working?

I knew you'd try something like this,

which is why I sabotaged your accelerator.

It's also why I rewired the emergency eject button to be over here.

Goodbye, Roger.

I'm three days older than you.

You think I didn't see this coming?

I knew you'd try to sabotage me.

Which is why I put the real eject button over here.

You must be getting slow in your old age,

because I knew you'd know that I'd deceive you.

Which is why I put the real eject button over here.

You didn't think I'd know you knew I knew you'd know?

The real eject button is over here.

Would you kill each other already?

You're a worthy opponent,

but there's one thing you didn't count on, the truth.

That's right. This whole time, the real emergency eject button has been

the emergency eject button.

Well played, but it's not over yet.

Good luck trying to push a button without any hands.

You jagoffs got confused by the temporal paradox.

You're future him.

- So when you cut off your hands... - I'm only cutting off my own hands.

Which gives me the upper hand.

Joke's on you.

I'm headed right into the fiery arms of my beloved.

No! I'm stuck in perfect orbit!

But if I can't be inside you, at least I can pleasure myself to your presence.

Oh, God, no hands.

Roger.

You saved us from yourself.

Maybe.

But if I want you to trust me, I have to be honest with you.

And the big truth is, I can't drive.

We've entered the sun's gravitational field.

Our only way out is to pull off a slingshot.

What do you say, Roger?

Can we trust you with our lives twice in one hour?

I don't know.

- You can do this, Roger. - We believe in you.

Personally, I think this family is a little too quick to forgive.

You're right.

With your trust behind me, I can do anything.

It's so hot. We're too close.

- Wait for it. - She's falling apart!

Almost there.

Now!

Whee!

- Great job, Roger. - You did it.

What a slingshot.

Does this mean I'm driving to Oktoberfest next year?

- Only if you don't drink. - Yeah, never mind.

I'm still sad.

My whole family's dead.

I'm still sad about my truck.

- I give in. - Me, too.

Let's heal.

- Oh, he's grieving. - Grieving.

On that rundown train to Boinksville.

Getting on that rundown train to Boinksville.

Smooch, smooch!

Get back in the basement.