All language subtitles for Scream Queens s02e05 .eng

Previously on Scream Queens...

I'm afraid you have kuru.

No one must know.

If the board finds out,

[over headphones]: they'll think
I'm unfit to run the hospital.

HESTER: Massacres tend to
happen in this hospital

on Halloween night.

You tried to kill me with punch?!

- Bitch, just as soon as I get...
- [electricity crackles]

CHANEL 5: Help!

I could've swore I
heard Chanel 5 scream.

How did you hear her
from across the hospital?

[scream in distance]

She's drawn to Chanel 5's pain

like a shark to blood in the water.

She's developed a
fine-tuned addiction to it.

[all gasp]

[groaning weakly]

Come on. Help me. Help me.

- She's dead.
- [gasps]

ZAYDAY: Oh, God, that's horrible.

Um, guys,

passing out...

If the killer can take out
a special agent of the FBI,

are any of us safe?

The miracle is this
didn't hit a vital organ.

Oh, my God, I'm passing out.

For the love of God,
Number Five, Denise is dead!

Can you maybe let us all have
two minutes that isn't about you?

We have to take this body
and throw her in the swamp.

What?!

We can't just dump her in the swamp!

Denise was our friend!

MUNSCH: I loved Denise as
much as the rest of you,

which, admittedly, wasn't that much.

We just can't let her death have a...

negative impact on the
work being done here.

I mean, if word got out that
a FBI agent was killed here,

they would just shut us down!

And that means no patients.

And the life-saving research
that we are doing here would end.

And we can't have that...

can we, Zayday?!

Even if I wanted to
dump her in the swamp,

don't you think the Feds are
gonna come looking for her?

But then I will tell whomever comes

that Denise just took off

on a secret mission for some...

top secret shadow

organization within the FBI.

Now, somebody get me a gurney.

Because Special Agent Denise
Hemphill's going for a little swim.

[men screaming in distance]

CHANEL 5: Uh, guys? Guys?

Wait, really?

Guys! [groans]

[creaking]

ZAYDAY: Oh, my God.

Who could have done this?

We just need to find the
guy dressed as Aaron Burr.

It's gonna be pretty hard to
cover this up, Dean Munsch.

Girls... we have no choice,
I have to call the authorities.

Go change out of your costumes.

No. Zayday.

I need you to help with something first.

Come with me.

Remind me when we're done here,

I must send someone up
to help poor Chanel 5.

I told you, I'm not dumping
Denise's body in the swamp.

Well, of course not.

- She's still alive.
- What?

- When did you know she was alive?
- When I took her pulse.

She had the faintest heartbeat.

I mean not enough to
resuscitate her, of course.

She's basically brain-dead.

And you were still gonna
throw her in the swamp?

No, no, no. That isn't an option.

What, with the kind of massacre
that just occurred upstairs,

I can't be sure that
they're not gonna dredge

or even drain the swamp
during their investigation.

But rest assured, Denise
did not die in vain.

She's going to be an integral part

of our little "save my
life" research project.

Come, see-see it.

[panting]: This...

is the secret cryogenic chamber

I had built with just a small
portion of the Radwell fortune.

We're gonna put Denise in
here and give this baby...

a little test drive just
to make sure it works,

just in case my condition proves fatal

before we can find a cure.

This doesn't feel right.

Well... we could just
take Denise upstairs

and hook her up to a feeding tube

and watch her as she
slowly deteriorates.

Or we can put Denise
in here, in the freezer,

until they find a cure
for being electrocuted.

[squeaking]

[mechanical whirring]

[panting]

Zayday.

It's getting worse.

Please, Zayday, help me.

I don't want to end up
in that tank like Denise.

[mechanical whirring growing louder]

It worked.

I peed out all the blue.

My butt is still really blue, though,

so I kind of look like a blonde baboon.

Mm.

I gave you a healthy
dosage of deferasirox.

It's a chelation solution
that sort of leeches out the...

heavy metals in the organs,
and especially the skin,

and helps you pee 'em out.

- [chuckles]
- Now, if you've noticed some...

silver in the fleshy part
of your butt, it'll...

it'll normalize soon, I promise.

I'm sorry about the,
uh, silver poisoning.

I mean, I have no idea who did that.

I mean, someone must have
messed with my solution.

Could have been anyone, really.

They're all jealous of you.

It was probably Dean BoxMunsch.

I mean, she wanted to make
sure her and her gray pubes

had you all to herself.

Well, first of all, she's
rockin' a full Kojak down there.

And second, I really appreciate
that everyone's rooting

for me and her to be
the new power couple.

And third, the sex was exquisite.

I mean, the best I've had since I
spent the weekend with Sean Young

- [groans]
- right when she started her crazy phase.

Look, the only reason
why I got busy with Munsch

is because I was bummed out
that I lost the chance with you.

I don't know.

I mean, you guys are
more age-appropriate.

You do realize you were, like,
30 when I was born, right?

[elevator bell dings]

Besides, I don't know if I can love
anyone after what happened with Chad.

I mean... I need time.

Take all you need.

- Not really.
- [laughs]

I probably only need a couple hours.

I have, like, zero
emotional object permanence.

MUNSCH: It had finally happened.

The sword of Damocles had fallen.

[camera shutter clicking]

I finally knew what it felt like

- to be Freddy Krueger.
- [camera shutter clicking]

Because I, Cathy Munsch, was
walking through a nightmare.

WOMAN: Dr. Munsch, what do you
have to say about these murders?

MUNSCH: I knew in that moment
my dream had been shattered.

The C.U.R.E. Institute was dead,

and I wasn't far behind.

But one week later, something
equally unexpected happened.

The hospital was thriving.

As it turns out, the
old adage is true...

there is no such thing as bad press.

News reports of the murders

gave us hundreds of
hours of free publicity.

And medical anomalies
from all across the world

started coming out of the woodwork.

And they weren't worried about being
knocked off by a serial killer.

Any risk was worth the miracle

of maybe having their horrible
physical fates reversed.

- Excuse me, Dean Munsch.
- [groans] Yes.

What, with the current
influx of patients...

MUNSCH: This bitch...

I hired Nurse Hoffel to
make my job easier...

i.e. showing me how to run a hospital...

and now, this pill-popping battle
axe thinks she's invaluable.

An expenditure like that should really
be run past the board of directors.

I'll look into it.

The good news is that we were busy.

So many patients to meet.

Well, my name's Marguerite Honeywell.

I suffer from Marfan Syndrome.

Wow. That name is really
kind of a mouthful.

Do you mind if I called you "Marfan"?

Um... yes, actually, I would.

MUNSCH: Now, Daria,

it says here that you were diagnosed

with Moebius Syndrome in 2013.

- Is that right?
- That's right.

I do online beauty tutorials,

and my total inability to
move any part of my face

is really getting savaged
in the comments section.

MUNSCH: But there was one
case that really intrigued me.

WOMAN [British accent]: I must say that
coming here today was not my decision,

but rather that of my
employers at the United Nations.

Wait. You work at the United Nations?

That's really cool. I've
always wanted to go there.

[Swedish accent]: I worked in the
diplomatic corps as an interpreter

for close to 20 years now.

And I'm the model of perfect health,

so I have no idea why I'm even here.

CHANEL: Wait. I'm
sorry. Are you Swedish?

- I thought you were from the U.K.
- No.

[French accent]: I'm
from Minnesota originally.

Maybe that's what you are picking up on.

My husband says I sound like I'm
straight out of the movie Fargo.

MUNSCH: Wow. Inability
to land a single accent.

It's fascinating.

[Australian accent]: Now, I did
slip and fall a few weeks ago,

and I was taken to hospital,

but they said it was
just a mild concussion,

and I was released that afternoon.

When-when you're talking,

are you aware of the way
you talk sort of... shifting?

[with Russian accent]:
I speak the way I speak.

I don't know what you are getting at.

Can I just say...

I think it's fascinating that
she's doing all these accents,

but she hasn't done one that
anyone could deem offensive.

[with Indian accent]: Accent? Why does
everybody keep bringing up my accent?

I told you, I am from the Midwest.

Okay. Never mind.

Ms. Hotchkiss, I am
afraid at this point,

we do not know what it is
you may have or not have,

nor if there is a treatment
or a cure, but rest assured,

with all the resources available
here at the C.U.R.E. Institute,

we will not stop until we find one.

Right, team?

Hey, this can't be the most
sanitary way to clean bedpans.

I mean, aren't there rules
and... laws and stuff?

A few weeks ago, I was in charge
of giving fentanyl to a patient,

who, based on Zayday's recommendation,
was about to get a lobotomy.

Also, we dumped a body in the swamp,

so I don't really think rules
are a priority around here.

Hello, non-doctor idiots.

I'm sorry to interrupt your
hard work cleaning bedpans...

the only thing you're qualified at
any other hospital on Planet Earth.

You... Dead Inside...

I need you to rinse and
sanitize these catheter tubes.

Oh, careful.

Some of 'em are still sort of juicy.

And I'm gonna need you to
strain these fecal samples,

place them in saline solution,

and then load them in
enemas for fecal transplant.

Ew! No, I'm not doing that!

Sorry, Dr. Tiny Bitch,

but Crohn's disease
isn't gonna cure itself.

[gasps]

Why are you wearing
sunglasses? Are you hung over?

Pethidine doesn't give you a hangover.

That's why I love it so much.

But it's great to manage moderate
to severe pains in the ass

who don't belong within
ten miles of a hospital.

Oh. I also need you
to get a semen sample

from the guy in the coma in room 1219.

His ex-wife's just
dying to pull the plug.

She's claiming their kid isn't his.

How am I supposed to get his semen?

[whispering]: I think you know.

[chuckles] Catch you later, bitches.

[Chanel grunts]

CHANEL: That is it! I am not
cleaning one more pooey bedpan.

Number Three, finish
cleaning all of these,

and then, bring me a latte
and a scone at the Korean spa.

I am getting a manicure
and a vag steaming.

No way.

If anyone's vag is getting
steamed, it's my vag.

[crying]: This is all just so wrong.

I mean, an Oberlin hasn't
worked in over 300 years.

We have been genetically
perfected over centuries

of ordering people around
to be good at only one thing.

Ordering people around.

That's it.

The reason we have lost
the will to live is because

what's the point of living if we
don't have people to boss around?

Who are we if we don't
have pledges to torture

and make do stuff for us?

How are we supposed to recruit pledges?

We're not in a sorority anymore.

This hospital is suddenly
full of gross, sick people.

I mean, way too many for the
limited staff we have now.

Dean Munsch and Nurse Hoffel
need to hire more people,

so we're gonna do it for them.

We'll train them to be Chanels

and make them our minions.

I mean, if I learned anything

from surviving the last serial
killer who tried to kill us,

it's that you always need
a group of less attractive,

less popular, less
interesting people around

for the killer to kill before you.

Okay, that is genius.

Which is why I'm the
brains of this operation.

Now let's hit the spa.

These bedpans can wait until we find

less attractive people
around to clean them.

- [knocking]
- Yes!

Dean Munsch, there's something
I need to talk to you about.

Mm-hmm. What is it?

It's Chamberlain.

I have my suspicions that he's
the baby in the belly from 1985,

and it's driving me crazy.

'cause I need to find out
how you found him and...

what his interview was like?

Who's Chamberlain?

Chamberlain, the candy striper
you hired from your Craigslist ad?

We don't have a candy striper.

And I would never take
an ad out on Craigslist.

That's where married men score
meth and hook up with each other.

So wait. You're saying
you didn't hire him?

Big guy, African-American,
loveable, a bit of a stalker?

Oh, that guy.

I thought he was Dr.
Brock Holt's assistant.

Dr. Holt doesn't have an assistant.

I mean, now he's my prime suspect.

Oh, you think?

An adult man wanders into a hospital

and pretends to have a
weird volunteer position...

that's almost exclusively
reserved for young girls?

It might not even be a thing anymore.

You think...

that he might have something to do...

with mass murder?

I'm gonna get to the bottom of it.

If we're gonna find
out who that baby is,

we're gonna need to
find the mother first.

[sighs]

[door closes, door opens]

Come on, Mama, let's
find out where you are.

[thudding]

- Hello?
- WOMAN: [groans]

Help me.

Oh, my gosh!

Chanel 5, what happened?

Well, I was just trying to get up
to get a teaspoon of mayonnaise,

and then, I tripped,
and I couldn't get up.

What are you even doing here?
You should be in the hospital.

Yes, I should be in the hospital!

I-I just had a machete thrust
nine inches into my thorax,

breaking three ribs,
puncturing my left lung

and entirely severing
my right trapezoidal.

- I should be in the ICU.
- That's where I thought you were.

Oh, I was, until Chanel
wheeled me in here.

But then she told me it was just
that I was more convenient to insult.

In the meantime, no one is taking care

of my actual life-threatening injury!

I have received exactly
zero Edible Arrangements.

Well, listen, I will be
happy to take care of you.

And in return, I could
really use your help.

[scoffs] Help with what?

We're gonna find the mother
who was pregnant in the hospital

on Halloween in 1985.

I'm thinking we can head
down to the police station

and try to access the archives.

I mean, if her husband went missing,
she would have filed a report, right?

I don't know. I mean, I
don't really think in a way

- ... that is helpful to anyone.
- Just come on!

[groaning]

I need an update Number Three.

Any responses?

What about the Chanel wait list?

No responses, and everyone on
the Chanel wait list passed.

What is happening?!

Two years ago, if I
had posted on my socials

that we were accepting
applications for new Chanels,

we'd have throngs of skinny, rich
bitches banging down our door!

I just don't understand why
we even need any more Chanels.

I told you, cow. We need cannon fodder.

We need new Chanels for
the Green Meanie to attack

so he doesn't murder us!

Uh, you already have that, Chanel.

Her name is... me!

The Green Meanie's already
tried to murder me twice.

Yeah, and pretty soon, he's
probably going to succeed,

and then where will we be, Number Five?

It's time to start
taking desperate measures.

We need to start interviewing patients.

Why do you think you'd
make a good Chanel?

Um, I don't, actually.

I don't really know what
you're talking about.

You said you had some important
information about my condition.

No, I do have very
important information.

Your condition is about to improve

by potentially becoming a Chanel.

I don't understand.

What's a Chanel?

Duh. Us. We're Chanels.

You like money, right?
And telling it like it is?

Yeah, I guess.

It's done. Congratulations.

You're a Chanel.

How long would it take
you to run a full sprint?

I'm sorry?

Like if a grown man was
chasing you with a big stick

that's shaped like a knife
but made out of metal?

So, a knife?

Yeah. Do you think you could outrun him?

- Probably not.
- Congratulations.

You're a Chanel.

Let's go find the next potential Chanel.

There aren't anymore. That's it.

- Those were all the patients.
- What?!

Damn it, Number Three! We
need at least one more Chanel

to double our chances of survival!

[sighs]

We're gonna have to do the unthinkable.

No, not him.

Look, I don't like it any
more than you do, Number Three.

- [sighs]
- We're gonna have to call Tristan.

We first learned about Tristan

when we were appealing
our murder conviction.

Some psycho was writing
these handwritten novels

where all the Chanels were lesbians,

and all we did was have
sex with each other.

This is for you.

"Hey, Chanel. My name's
Tristan St. Pierre,

"and I'm your biggest fan.

"I heard about your murder trial,

"so I thought I'd send you
some of my Chanel fan fiction.

"Enjoy!"

CHANEL: I didn't think twice about it,

and then, three weeks later...

- [phone chimes]
- "Hey Chanel!

"It's Tristan!!

"Congrats on your acquittal!

"What did you think of my fan fiction?"

[phone chimes]

"Your lawyer gave me your number.

"I hope that's okay!!"

[phone chimes]

[overlapping voices
reading text messages]

TRISTAN: "... and I love it."

CHANEL: That I was
turning to Tristan now,

meant that it was dark times indeed.

I don't understand
what's happening here.

Who are these people?

Chanel 7 and 8,

Number Five, show some respect.

One has Abe Lincoln disease,

and the other one can't
move her face or something

and is torture to talk to.

Marfan, get out of the way.

Who is that you're talking to?

Number Five, may I
introduce Chanel Pour Homme?

What?! No. Okay, this is not allowed!

A Chanel who is male and gay? I mean,
that's simply out of the question!

He's gonna steal all of
our makeup and besides,

Chanel, he seems like a serial killer.

Okay, well, there's really
no need to keep whispering,

because everybody heard that!

And besides, gays don't murder people.

I mean, they're a-a peaceful,

- musical people, right?
- Mm-hmm.

Name me one gay serial killer.

John Wayne Gacy, Jeffrey Dahmer.

It's a good bet one of
those Menendez brothers

was crawling into bed
with the other one, too.

Okay, fine. You know what?

Maybe he is a serial killer.

But he's also a twee,

which means we could
easily fight him off.

- Mm-hmm.
- And Number Three and I

aren't cleaning your
bedpans, Number Five.

Plus, we should all
feel a little safer now

that we're surrounded by our new
servants, slash human shields.

- Wait. Your what?
- A toast.

To Number Seven, Number Eight...

- ... and Chanel pour Homme.
- Mm-hmm.

CASSIDY: Okay, so,

you were in the U.N. commissary,

and it was lunchtime you said?

[Southern accent]: Yes, I-I
slipped on a plantain heel,

and I hit my head on the linoleum floor.

I told you, now

- I don't know how many times...
- Ms. Hotchkiss,

you seem to be unaware of the fact

that each time you speak,
you take on a different accent.

- [Belgian accent]: What did you say?
- He's right.

In the last ten minutes, you've done

Texan, Austrian, Norwegian, Vietnamese,

Algerian, Botswanan, Tajik

and something that sort of
sounded like Bernie Sanders.

Foreign Accent Syndrome...
that's what she has.

There's no way there's actually

something called
"Foreign Accent Syndrome."

I spent the whole night going
through the medical files,

going through white papers.

Foreign Accent Syndrome is a real thing.

Although it's extremely rare and

usually associated with stroke
or traumatic brain injury.

See, right here.

First condition was identified in 1907.

61 cases have been reported since 1941.

[Scottish accent]: Now wait a minute.

Are you saying I
might have had a stroke?

[Scottish accent]: No.
You didn't have a stroke.

Did I just say that in sort
of a weird Scottish accent?

[Irish accent]: Yes. Why
did your accent just change?

[Irish accent]: Maybe
it's contagious. Wait.

Did I just say that in
a weird Irish accent?

[Irish accent]: Sweet mother
in heaven. It is contagious.

[Scottish accent]: Is
that a Canadian accent?

Has this disease somehow
mutated and gone viral?

Not Internet viral. Contagion viral.

[Irish accent]: Oh, crap.

This must be what happened to Madonna.

We need to call her.

- Thank you, Tristan.
- Mm-hmm.

Now, stay close

in case I need my face wiped

or to have pieces of
arugula picked from my teeth.

Tristan, what is this?

It's some new fan fiction.

All of these new stories
are just bursting out of me

in thick ropes of inspiration.

I can't stop writing.

- What is on your lips?
- Nothing.

- Did you steal my lipstick?
- No.

That is Koko K on your lips.

It is not. I wouldn't dare
steal any of your makeup.

It's all expired, and who knows
what's living on your lips.

[gasps] How dare you!

Just for that, I'm gonna make
you go get me more sweatpants.

These ones are full of farts.

ZAYDAY: Guys! Stop arguing.

Look what I found in the file we
got from the police department.

A Jane Hollis filled out a missing
persons report for her husband Bill

November 2, 1985.

That's exactly 48 hours after that nurse
said she threw the patient in the swamp.

I'm thinking if we
find this Jane Hollis,

we might be able to figure
out who the killer is.

Huh, there's an address
in the file, Number Five.

Maybe if we're lucky,
she still lives there.

[crickets chirring]

[beep]

[eerie moaning]

[rhythmic beeping]

[woman moaning]

Hello?

[moaning continues]

[moaning continues]

WOMAN [whispering]: Make them stop.

Make who stop?

The voices... in my head.

Number Five, is that you?

What are the voices telling you to do?

[whispering]: Kill... you.

[both scream]

[laughing]

What is wrong with you?

I'm psychotic and a sociopath.

I'm also allergic to
gluten, but most importantly,

I miss you.

A little birdie told me

that you're recruiting new Chanels.

I can't say I wasn't hurt
that you didn't ask me first.

We didn't ask you to rejoin
because you tried to kill us!

Which is exactly why you need me.

Hey, whores...

Hester is moving in with us.

I prefer Chanel 6.

[French accent]: No way!

She's a murderer and a brunette.

There would be dead people and dark
brown pubes all over the apartment.

She told my parents

to say that I was adopted.

She also has the mind
of a serial killer,

which means she can help
us avoid getting killed.

And why are you speaking
in a French accent?

[Italian accent]: A patient
came in with a disease

that makes you speak
in-a foreign accents.

It's-a contagious.

Look, I appreciate that
bringing Hester here

creates a small risk that she may
decide to slaughter us in our sleep,

but I, for one, think the trade off

of helping discover who
the Green Meanie killer is

makes it worth it.

Well, then, why doesn't she just
tell us who the killer is now?!

It doesn't work that way.

There are rules.

Protocols.

Watch. So, Hester,

which one of the new
Chanels should we use as bait

- to catch the Green Meanie
- Mm.

and, thus, keep him from killing us.

Great question, Chanel.

The choice is obvious.
Kill the annoying twink.

- Agreed.
- Agreed.

[British accent]: I disagree.

HESTER: Number Three,
I have all the answers.

Fine. But she has to
room with Number Five,

just in case she
decides to sleep-murder.

And we cannot kill Twink.

Ugh, fine!

We'll kill Moebius girl. Agreed?

Great.

Number Five, I've got
to ask you something.

When you were at the apartment earlier,

there was a strange pair
of panties in the hamper

that reeked of this
really strong perfume

and I thought I recognized the smell,

but then I remembered...

that was Hester's perfume.

But those are my panties.

I really liked Hester's perfume,

so I decided to start
dousing my panties in it.

That's not what I was expecting.

And what did you expect?

That we finally tracked down Hester

and asked her to live
in the apartment with us,

so she could help us find the killer,

even though it's possible
that she's the killer?

That would be insane!

That would be insane.

Then maybe you should
just not worry about it.

And maybe you should stop sniffing
panties that you pull out of the hamper.

[doorbell rings]

Ms. Jane Hollis.

I'm sorry, but

I haven't seen my son in years.

We've never had what you
call a close relationship,

but he is all I have.

I never remarried and I
never had any more children.

[gags]

Uh, the coffee's disgusting.

It's not coffee, it's tea.

I'm pretty sure that I ordered coffee.

You didn't order anything
because this is a home,

not a restaurant.

So, Ms. Hollis,

speaking of your husband, um...

what do you think happened to him?

Well, I think he died that night.

I think Dr. Mike and Nurse Thomas

faked the paperwork releasing
him from the hospital

and then just tossed his body into
the swamp to cover their tracks.

I'm sure of it.

Are you... sure...

that they dumped the body in the swamp?

And are you sure that you aren't
the one who murdered your husband?

Look... maybe you two
got into an argument.

You fly off the handle,
accidentally murder him,

and then, what are you gonna do?

You have to figure out a
way to get rid of the body.

And what better way

to dispose of your husband's dead body,

than bringing him to the ER,
complaining of chest pains

and then leaving it to Dr.
Mike and poor Nurse Thomas

to throw him in the swamp for you.

I didn't murder my husband.

I'm so sorry.

Could you just give us a moment, please?

[Zayday clears her throat]

What is wrong with you?

You are the worst sidekick ever.

I'm sorry.

I thought we were trying
to solve a murder here.

Forgive me for asking
the tough questions.

Those aren't tough questions.

Look, it doesn't matter.

Let's just get out of here
because we already know

what we came here to find out.

That the baby in the
belly can't be Chamberlain.

- Why?
- Because she's white.

Um, Chanel 5 and I are
gonna have to run. We, uh...

we forgot we had an appointment.

[chuckles] Thank you for your time.

- [chuckles]
- Oh.

Who is that NBA player
with you in that photo?

Oh, was it like a
Make-A-Wish sort of situation

after your husband was murdered?

That is my husband.

ZAYDAY: Do you know what this means?

Of course I don't.

This means that Chamberlain
could be the baby in the belly.

I guess you're not such
a bad sidekick, after all.

This doesn't make any sense.

She said she fell backwards
and hit her head, right?

[South African accent]: But the part
of the brain that processes language

is called the Broca's area

and it's located in
the front of the brain.

Oh. I think my accent just changed.

[British accent]: Yes,
I just noticed that.

I mean, it's still a terrible accent,

but before you sounded like
Keanu in Dracula.

[Australian accent]: Now you sound
like Leo in Blood Diamond.

Crap, I think mine just changed, too.

Yeah, before you sounded like Winona
Ryder in The Crucible and...

now you sort of sound like Cameron
Diaz in Gangs of New York.

[door opens]

[Cockney English accent]:
I think I got a cure.

Damn it. My accent keeps changing.

Now I sound like Dick Van
Dyke in Mary Poppins.

What exactly did you
figure out? What's the cure?

[German accent]: Now, that is
the worst accent I've ever heard.

When Ms. Hotchkiss
fell and hit her head,

she suffered a mild concussion,

which caused swelling in the part
of the brain that processes language.

[Australian accent]: Right,
but the MRI showed swelling

in the anterior part of the brain

and the Broca's area is
in the frontal lobe...

As the first of two neural structures

sub-serving linguistic processing.

[German accent]: The
Broca's area in the front

and the Wernicke's area in the back...

precisely where the
MRI indicated swelling.

[English accent]: Wait,
now you sound like Brad Pitt

in Seven Years in Tibet.

So, what do you propose?

- [Polish accent]: Steroids?
- Mm-hmm.

Why steroids?

[German accent]: It should reduce
the swelling in the temporal gyrus

of the brain's dominant hemisphere,

which, in this case,
happens to be the left.

I mean, it'll take me, what?

Ten, 15 minutes to
prepare the injection?

Then I'll have you on a plane back
to the U.N. in time for supper.

Ah, eh...

[Polish accent]: Oh, thank you.

I'm so relieved.

But that doesn't explain what's
happening to the three of you.

[in German accent]: I know. I fear
the three of us will speak in...

[Scottish accent]: sad,
inconsistent accents

[in German accent]: for
the rest of our lives.

Come on, let's go, little guy.

All right, here we go.

ZAYDAY: You're a real
freak, you know that?

Okay, hold on, many men enjoy light
butt play during sex, all right?

Doesn't make us freaks.
I am as God made me.

I'm talking about the kind of freak
who just walks in off the street

and pretends to get hired at a hospital.

Okay, you caught me.

All right? I'm sorry I lied,

but there's nothing freaky about this.

I just really like
helping people, you know?

And I was looking for a
professional environment to do it in.

You know the kind of looks I get

wheeling around a magic
cart on the streets,

randomly doing good deeds?

And you just happened to,
what? Choose this hospital?

Yeah, it's walking
distance from the house.

How can I wheel this big ass cart all
the way across town to County General?

They'd never let me on the bus, ever.

This is crazy. Man, I
thought you was different.

I thought you would understand
that there are actually some people

who don't want to feel rich or
be superior to everybody else.

For some people,

putting a smile on somebody's
face is payment enough.

[cat meows]

Look, Zayday, all right,
I'm a good person, okay?

So, if that makes me a freak,

then I'm-a let my freak flag fly.

How you feeling today?

[door opens]

[posh British accent]: Hello, everyone.

I have good news and better news.

The good news is

our accents have all apparently

settled into the same dignified,

upper-crust, inconsistent
English accent.

[posh British accent]:
It's really incredible.

We sound like the cast of
Remains of the Day.

The better news is I
think I found a cure.

Now, I found nothing in
the medical literature

about spontaneous
Foreign Accent Syndrome

occurring without the
presence of brain trauma,

except... a really obscure paper

by an evolutionary
biologist named Kleinfeldt

from the University of Vienna,

who coined the term "Madonna Syndrome."

- Madonna Syndrome?
- BROCK: Madonna Syndrome, yes.

You see, when you're
around a foreign accent,

you start picking it up
so you don't stand out.

It's a method of social camouflage
for the cultural outsider.

You see, the more you fit in,

the more likely you are to procreate.

[posh British accent]: Okay,
well, how do you cure it?

Kleinfeldt called the technique
"Total Visuo-Linguistic Immersion."

We basically lock ourselves in a room

and watch nothing but
movies and tele-shows

that feature straight-down-the-line,
American accents.

The three of us will spend
the weekend watching these.

Ah.

Love American Style...

ooh, American Bandstand...

American Gigolo.

And I thought we'd start by
binge-watching The Americans.

The Americans is about Russians.

That's, like, the
whole point of the show.

BROCK: Fine. Then we'll binge-watch

Neil Diamond singing
"Coming to America."

It's a rousing anthem that every
American should watch, in my opinion.

It's what we need as a nation.

Um... I can't.

I've got something planned this weekend.

I'm sorry.

Well... looks as though it's just, uh...

going to be you and me.

[knocking]

Yes?

You wanted to see me.

Yes, please, come in.

Um...

why don't you take a seat?

Actually, you know, I'm
gonna save you the effort.

You're fired.

- Excuse me?
- You heard me.

I don't like the way you treat my staff.

Oh, I presume you're
talking about the Chanels,

whom you hired as doctors, despite
the fact they're not doctors.

It's my hospital.

It runs on my funding,

which means I can hire whomever I choose

to perform whatever
task I deem appropriate.

And, frankly,

the way you treat and
speak to the Chanels is,

"A." offensive,

and "B"...

you're obviously addicted to pethidine.

Addicted?

Where do you get off,
you boozy, old hag?

Yes! I take a daily dose of pethidine!

A-a-and, yes, it's a very large dose,

something like you would
prescribe for a Clydesdale.

But you know what? I love it!

It is, hands down, the
best friend I have ever had.

It is lover, friend,

all wrapped up in some
tiny, little, white tuxedo.

I mean, I do. I do, I
do. I think about it.

I think about it at morning,
noon, and night, but addicted? No!

I am not.

Yes, I obviously am, but how
dare you, you creaky, old whore!

I want your office
cleaned out in an hour.

Oh, no.

I don't think I'm going
to be going anywhere.

I just fired you.

And I think you're about to rehire me.

Unless you want word
out about your disease.

That's right.

I know all about your little
terminal illness you picked up

accidentally eating human
brains, which is insane,

but somehow not quite as crazy

as accidentally getting
on a plane to New Guinea

when you thought you
were headed to New Jersey.

I... I just wonder what the press
would do with that little nugget.

Oh, wait, I can see the headlines now.

"Crone munches down
on brains, gets kuru,

"buys hospital, still dies."

You wouldn't.

I will.

Wait, wait, what's that?

Oh... I think that's the
sound of me getting rehired.

Don't cross me, slut,

or I'll make damn sure
it's the last thing you do.

Surprise.

Sorry, you scared me.

Where have you been all day?

Running errands...

like you told me.

Yeah, I don't care.

Listen, I have awesome news.

While you were gone,

the Chanels and I decided
it would be super fun

if we celebrated the new Chanels

by throwing a slumber
party at the hospital.

And we're gonna give
each other makeovers.

Oh, my God,

I'm so excited.

["Dancing in Heaven" by Q-Feel plays]

-
Here we go

-
Dancing in heaven -
Here we go

Time for gifts! Gather around.

We have a special surprise
gift for you, Chanel 8.

An Herm?s Infinity Choker
hidden somewhere in the morgue

that you have to go all
by yourself now to find it.

No way! This is so much fun.

Think the Meanie will take the bait?

Consider it his or her sacrifice
for the week and leave us alone?

Fo' sho'.

[clears throat]

Geez, you scared me.

Listen up, bitch.

I've been saving up to buy a Herm?s
silver Infinity Choker forever,

and I'll be damned if I'm gonna
stand by and let you have it.

But they said it was for me.

Then you'd better find
it before I do, bitch.

Where is it?

Wasted space.

What are you doing here?

I was looking for my present,

but then Chanel Pour Homme said
he wanted it more than I did

so I figured I'd just let him have it

and I came back up here.

Oh, no.

-
Dancing in heaven-
Here we go.

[squelching sounds]

[screaming]

- Munsch we can explain.
- Explain what?

That you hired three new Chanels
to be bait for the Green Meanie?

- Um, I...
- Yeah, I heard all about it.

- Chanel 5 told me.
- Okay...

You stupid bitch!

Chanel, a man died.

I didn't want Chanel Pour Homme to die.

I sent Chanel 8 to the morgue.

I'm standing right here!

[posh accent]: You know, the
more that I think about it,

I don't really think we
thought this plan through.

Yes, we did. These Chanels are bait.

Yes, but we never set a trap.

The Green Meanie just
took the bait and got away.

And where is Hester?

Her cell is empty.

If I don't find out
what happened to her,

I'm gonna have to report
that breach to the FBI.

I don't know where Hester is.

I mean, am I my sister's keeper?!

Maybe she killed herself!

Or maybe she's moved
to a neighboring state

with a less onerous tax burden
and started killing people there.

Honestly, that's probably what happened.

I mean, she is always going on
about how onerous the taxes are here.

- Isn't that right?
- Totally.

- So onerous.
- Stop talking!

I must commend you.

- Your idea had merit.
- [chuckles]

I mean, with the added influx
of new patients to this hospital,

the workload here has doubled,

so if these Chanels help
you work more efficiently,

then I'm all for it.

Although I officially

cannot condone the... [clears throat]

you know?

Look, we get it. We're human shields.

We can all stop pussyfooting around it,

because I, myself, am
fine with the arrangement.

I've really gotten used to the clothes.

MUNSCH: Well, to your point,

I have taken the liberty

of adding some
additional Chanels myself.

Ladies!

This is Addison, Andrea, and Midge.

Chanel 9 here is a
semiprofessional Dungeon Master.

Chanel 10 was born with no kidneys

but has 30 extra feet
of large intestine.

And Chanel 11 has 11 fingers.

[gasps]

Yeah. So, Chanels 9 through 11,

meet Chanels 1 through 8.

Listen up, bovines.

Polite society says we can't haze you.

But we can insist

that you clean Chanel 5's
bedpans before we return home.

And she takes monster dumps.

I want that thing sanitized.

I want it so clean

that we could eat
novelty sundaes out of it!

Now!

Now...

I am going to find out what happened
to Hester if it's the last thing I do.

And if it turns out that you three
harbored a known serial killer,

I am going to report you
as accessories to murder.

And when they sentence
you to the electric chair,

I'm gonna stand there and watch you fry.

- Now...
- [squeaks]

who wants to tell me where Hester is?

I don't get it. What's in it for us?

Like, do we get paid?

I don't know. I think it's
more like an internship.

[screaming]

[screaming]

Oh, my God.

Thank you!

[door opens]

- Baby, is that you?
- [door shuts]

I'm making breakfast for dinner.

I know how much you like that.

CASSIDY: Hi, Mom.

Smells delicious.

Wash your hands and sit.

Some people came by from the hospital.

They know about your dad.

They asked about you.

Well, not you, exactly, but...

my baby.

You think we need to
do something about it?

Don't worry, Mom.

I'll take care of everything.

You are so good to me.

After all you've been through

and all you've done for me,

you deserve it.

You deserve the whole world.

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