All language subtitles for Velma.S02E07.1080p.WEB.h264-EDITH

Previously on Velma...

This is who I am.

That's not true. It can't be.

Because it's not the
unknown that freaks me out.

It's idiots like you who ignore
facts and science that do.

What do you mean Daphne's
brain is missing?

Hey! Put me down!

- I'm the serial killer.

And I will keep killing
until I get what I want.

Who are you?

We're your parents, Daphne.

In the wake of the revelation that the
serial killer is yet another woman,

Crystal Cove also elected
Merle Cogburn as sheriff.

I've experienced plenty
of tense situations in my day.

And now you die, Velma.

So, what'd you think
of my improv show?

Uh...

But no
situation is more tense

- than when I'm stuck between my mom and Sophie.

Front door is open.

Oh, you installed an alarm.

- Afraid someone will wreck your home while you're out?

It's so nice you're
able to drop off Velma.

Still no job?

Most of the time, keeping
my mom and Sophie apart is easy.

I can't believe you lost.

The Nate Silver
jinx strikes again.

Hey, if you need anything,
we are here for you.

Hey!

Oh, Diya's here.

We're just not here
for you right now. Bye.

This is your newly elected
sheriff, Merle Cogburn.

Since we now know the
serial killer is a woman,

at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow,
all women in Crystal Cove

will be temporarily relocated
to the Crystal Mines.

- The mines?

How will the men know
when to get haircuts?

And is it all of us?

Or just the evil,
manipulative ones?

But sometimes,

keeping them apart
isn't possible at all.

So ladies, leave your
interpersonal issues at home,

'cause it's gonna
be tight down there!

Good morning. I'm live
at the Crystal Mines

as women prepare to move
underground with a serial killer.

Tell me, are you scared?

Or just kind of resigned,

like, same old
shit different day?

A mix of both.

But we'll get through this with
organization, determination,

and highly functional
alcoholism.

Oh, what a surprise.

The woman who took my house is
turning a blind eye to injustice.

- What's that?
- Mom, go get my inhaler from the car.

If I die in front
of these other moms,

they'll never let you
hear the end of it.

You're not wrong about that.

Help me keep my mom and
Sophie apart in the mines.

I'll do your
laundry for a month.

A week. One load of
towels. But still. Please.

Pass. We suck at everything.

We lost the election

and we didn't even
hear Daphne sneak off

to Gigi's cabin last night

to walk in the woods
like Hillary Clinton.

Huh...

Dr. Perdue said Daphne would be
back in her body and home by now.

Hey, girlie.

Nope. Can't even pretend.

I'm back in my body
and everything hurts.

Okay, but why did
you leave that note?

You said Daphne would be
home by now. Is she okay?

Yes, but... But she's busy.

Have you found her brain yet?

Anyway, you need to
focus on learning

whether all the murders are
connected to Project SCOOBI.

I know, I have my file.

The one good thing about
being sent to the mines

is the amount of
people I can talk to.

But are you sure Daphne's okay?

We had a big fight
and I'm worried

that's why she won't
get on the phone.

Yep. She's not talking
because she's mad at you.

- This is your fault, not mine. Bye.

Wow, this
is really just so nice.

I love it and can already
think of so many uses for it.

But I'd really just
like to get home.

- Is there any chance you guys could return me...

Now don't
you worry, ladies.

You will only be in the mines
for 48 hours. Why? Because...

That's how long it will take for the
serial killer to pick us off one by one?

No, Velma.

Thanks to me, we have a
recording of the killer.

And now that we can focus on
it instead of losing our dongs,

we'll figure out which of
you is the killer in no time.

This isn't Merle's
first day as Sheriff.

It's his second.

Okay, but where do we go if we
don't identify as female or male?

Already thought of that.

I respect all gender identities.

And I don't want to get
yelled at on social media.

So I am paying for you and yours

to skip town for
a couple of days.

The rest of you,
get in that mine.

Well, see you in 48 hours.

Until then, enjoy watching a
man in a suit do the weather

instead of a woman in an
extremely tight dress,

you dumb assholes.

Will you
be okay without Mom?

- Do you have enough weed?
- Weed?

I don't need weed to be
away from your mother.

I need something much stronger.

Want some?

Thanks, but
I need to be alert.

My hallucinations may
have an external trigger

and I'm gonna figure
out what it is.

Oh, God!

I sure hope so. Even I'm
getting tired of this...

Hey, my eyes are up here, pal.

What? No, I'm just
looking through your hole.

Um...

You killed me, Norville.

Oh, gosh!

Wait, that's it.

I know how to get rid of you.

Offering me tap water?

Fred, you trigger
my hallucinations.

And you trigger my
disdain for nerds.

No. Look, I think I hallucinate

because I'm the only one
who can tell you the truth.

My grandma couldn't
have possessed your mom

because my grandma
is still alive.

That's impossible.

I've accepted my
mom wasn't great,

but no way she wanted
to replace my brain.

She was possessed.

Mmm...

Whoa, this is nice.

Throw pillows as far
as the eye can see.

Free
continental breakfast?

These ladies thought
of everything.

There's even a
place to brag about

how discounted the sweater
you just bought was.

Sure, but where do you complain that the
person you bragged to wasn't impressed enough?

Oh, there. Wow.

Ah! Serial killer.

Sorry, sorry, I know we're jumpy from
being locked in here with the killer.

Just wanted to give you
your welcome packet,

along with your
chore assignment,

camping location, and most
importantly, drink tickets.

Mommy loves wine more than me.

A Baby Babble Box?

Oh, wait, right, you all
hang out with Sophie.

Yeah. We're in a
mommy group together

where we measure our
babies against each other.

I'm the precocious-est.

But don't worry,

we know to camp you two as
far from Sophie as possible.

This is campsite Rose.

You're all the way
over at campsite Frose.

Phew! I'm worried enough
about the serial killer.

I don't need my mom and Sophie
also trying to kill each other.

- Thank you for telling them, Olive.
- It wasn't me.

These nosy bitches are just
up in everyone's business.

Perfect. Once I get Mom settled,

I'm gonna get
these women talking

like they just saw a trailer
for a new Jake Gyllenhaal movie.

Velma, speak up.

Muttering in public
is low-class,

and I don't want to get moved
to campsite Canned Rose.

Hello?

What happened?

Where am I?

Wait, am I dead?

But I haven't even gone
through my blonde phase yet.

This is unfair.

Daph, you're not dead.

Your jar fritzed out.

Meaning you have
no sensory input

and are trapped in your mind
until someone finds your brain.

What? If this is my mind,
what are you doing in here?

I never think about you
guys. I'm a teenager.

I barely even think
about the parents I love.

Okay, but you put yourself in a
jar to figure out who you are.

And who better than
your birth parents

to help you search your
memories for the answer.

Literally, anyone.

And if I'm controlling this,

why can't one of you be Velma
and the other one a hot tub?

Oh, you don't think
we'll get to Velma?

I, uh, don't know what you mean.

You will soon enough.

Anyway, from this
classic white void,

there's a couple of ways these
memory-inspired journeys can go:

Trial, chased by a giant pencil,

go to a meaningful place
where each thing is a memory.

Oh, that one sounds nice.

It isn't.

The Crystal Mines?

Welcome, ladies.

Hope you don't mind sleeping
next to some old bats.

And I don't mean the
Chiroptera flying above us.

- Oh, my. Ha!

It's bad enough we're stuck down
here with the serial killer,

but we're also stuck
with the loser moms

because Sophie
got the good ones.

- Of course.
- Good ones?

In your phone, you have
Maxine and Susan listed as.

"Evil gossip monster. Do
not answer while drunk."

And at least, we're
nowhere near Sophie.

- Velma.
- Oh God.

The cool moms and I
haven't seen Daphne in here

and I wondered if it's because
you guys are still on the rocks.

What? I didn't know that you
and Daphne were on the rocks.

You didn't? Weird.

I mean, it's been like
that since the seance.

Seance? What?

Velma, do you tell Sophie more about
your life than me, your mother?

How long has this been going on?

And did I not tell you, the highest
regard you can hold for Sophie is

- "aunt who gives good presents"?
- You did.

It's just sometimes
easier to talk to Sophie

because I actually care
about your opinion.

When I tell you about Daphne,

you just criticize me
and assume it's my fault.

Because most things
are your fault.

And it's my job
to point that out.

I know, but talking
to Sophie never hurts.

It's like talking to a wall.

She only responds in
lame framed quotes.

Your responses are like framed
quotes in male dorm rooms.

Aggressive and frightening.

Excuses don't get results, bro.

Okay, I see what you mean.

And this whole situation
really is Aman's fault.

He's the one who told
Sophie I'd abandoned him

when I was actually kidnapped.

Maybe I could
be nicer to her.

Thank you. And I actually have
something only you can help me with.

Fine. I guess it's time.

When two people love each other,

or it's your
husband's birthday...

Ugh! No!

I need to get info on the
murder victims from the moms.

But if I do it,

the serial killer might
figure out I'm onto them

and go even deeper into hiding.

Yes. It will be like that other
mystery we solved together.

Who keeps forgetting
to feed the cat?

Who would have guessed
it was both of us?

I'm
the serial killer.

And I will keep killing
until I get what I want.

I got it. I know who it is.

The guy sitting next to me
looks like James Marsden.

- Oh!
- Of course.

Now, any thoughts on the
serial killer's identity?

- Uh...

Fred, please, you
have to listen to me.

My grandmother is alive.

Yeah? Where? I'd
love to meet her.

Grandmothers love me.

I remind them of a simpler time.

She's wanted by the government,
so I can't reveal her location.

So I just have to
trust that she exists?

I already went down this road
with the Catholic Church, bro.

But hot nuns are
only in the movies.

Hey, hey. We're trying
to catch a serial killer.

Quit squabbling.

We have no choice
but to squabble.

Okay, well, we've
been working hard.

I guess we could take a little
break to settle an argument.

But we're gonna
settle it like men.

- Endless litigation.
- No.

With the women gone,

I'm emboldened to revive an older, more
honorable way for men to settle disputes.

Chili cook-off.

Wait, to figure out if my grandma's
alive and Fred's mom's a killer?

- Works for me.

Each crystal
holds a memory.

Though most of these are just
you doom scrolling social media.

It's when I'm happiest.

But I need memories that will
help me figure out who I truly am.

A popular girl? A Wiccan?

Maybe someone who signs
their emails, "Cheers"?

Daphne, come on.

You didn't put your brain in a jar to
figure out if you're popular or a witch.

You want to know if you're a
good person or a bad person.

Uh, no, I don't.

I know I'm a good person.

I post on my socials
whenever there's an election.

Well, I heard Moira wanted
to get rabies from that bat.

Ooh!

A flying
carrot? Now I've seen everything.

- How funny.

Wow. Amanda,

do you have a
precocious quip too?

Uh...

Carrot? More like parrot.

- Because it flies.

Remember, sweetie,

if you have to explain
it, it's not funny.

- Here comes the drama.

Cameras down. We're
not here to fight.

We've just realized we're at a
low-enough point in our lives

to start gardening
and have questions.

Really? That's great.

Gardening is such a
wonderful stress reliever.

It alleviates my anxieties, so I
can be a better mom and homemaker.

Happy to teach you.

Easy, Mom.

Then, sign me up.

Though, I heard the coroners
had the best garden.

Or does gossiping about the
men in town not interest you?

Are you insane?

The coroners' garden
was incredible,

but they were so nasty
whenever I asked about it.

Huh. Can you be more specific
about their nastiness?

Where was it on a scale of one

to how we treat actresses
we feel are too famous?

They told me to
"stick to succulents."

- No.

And they only got meaner
over the past two months.

They will not be missed.

Well, neither
will Father O'Rourke.

He pushed Sammy's
baptism a whole week

because of some "work thing."

Maybe we should've elected
the serial killer Sheriff.

She's taking out the
trash in this town.

Okay, not to be that person,

but as two people who were
almost killed by a serial killer,

this hits a little
close to home.

Yeesh! Who called
the fun police?

Yeah, Diya, it's fun.

- Uh...
- If you're a sick freak.

A serial killer is never funny.

And she might not
even be in here.

Our husbands could be
dead, and no one is there

to sprinkle cornstarch on the
blood stains, you monsters.

Wow. Thank you, Sophie.

You're right. That
was insensitive.

But looking at
chore assignments,

we have all the help we
really need with meal prep.

Would you three mind scraping the bat
shit off the playground equipment?

Talk about a crappy job.

Why did you bring
me to this memory?

I've learned what I'm
supposed to learn.

Life is about the little things
and Christmas is important.

Let's go!

No. We brought you here
because on this occasion,

you made a very
important moral choice.

It was either showing you this,

or every time you
chose to eat meat.

Enjoy terraforming Mars, jerk.

But this was still pretty
bad, don't you think?

That seance did not go well.

And while I don't care
what people think of me,

I know you do.

So I really mean it when
I say, "sucks to be you."

It went badly because of Velma.

She's just jealous of you and had
to ruin something I cared about.

Like when she made me look up

"friendship bracelet
sweatshops Taiwan."

Velma does have a lot to learn.

Yeah. Hey, maybe we should

teach her a lesson?

What do you mean?

Let's go some
place more private.

Are you sure?

Stop doubting
me, that's Velma's thing.

No! Stop!

You can't erase the past, Daph.

Fine. But you heard me.

It was Velma's fault.
I was justified.

It's okay. Your
parents are no good.

Makes perfect sense
you're no good too.

But you're not even my parents.

You're just
projections of me. See?

Oh, what the hell?
We were kidding,

but now we think you
really are a bad person.

Now some might call this
an act of procrastination

by a man who has realized

he has no idea how to
catch a serial killer.

But they would be wrong.

By more efficiently
settling disputes,

I will have more time to
find the serial killer.

Now you've all been simmering
for six hours. It's time.

And the winner is...

- Fred.
- Yes!

Norville, it's decided.

Your grandmother is dead and
her ghost forced Fred's mom

to commit those heinous crimes.

This isn't fair.

A chili contest with a
single judge is tyranny.

Mmm, good point.

Everyone, try the chili and
we'll take it to a vote.

Then we'll find
the serial killer.

Yeah, I'm not procrastinating,
just being fair.

Norville's tastes weird.

Huh, must be the sleeping pills.

Oh!

Oh, hey, Diya.
Little cleaning hack.

If you scrub in a
circular motion,

you'll go faster and
tone your triceps.

You're welcome.

Oh, you just think you're
so perfect, don't you?

Oh, here it comes.

Well, I tried to keep them
from killing each other.

Perfect? Wait.

Are you mean to me because
you're jealous of me?

Of course. You have a career.

You made my house better.

And your baby's more socialized
than mine will ever be.

- Eh?
- That's crazy.

I'm the one who's jealous.

Aman and I are total opposites.

I'm constantly worried
he'll want you back.

You're both grumpy, and
okay with bad dye jobs.

That's crazy. You're
perfect for Aman.

You don't even care that
he keeps his porno mags

in a box labeled
"Aman's treats."

Hey, as much as I love
hearing about this,

I'm trying to investigate.

Oh, stop. You're only investigating
to get out of working.

Ugh! She always does that.

"Velma, unload the dishwasher."
"I'm investigating."

"Velma, brush your hair."
"I'm investigating."

No you're right.

Doing chores is more
important than saving lives.

That's why every kid
dresses up as Alfred

and not Batman on Halloween.

Oh, Velma, don't
be so thin-skinned.

"I'm investigating."

- Ugh!

It was better when
you hated each other.

You here to take
this job from us?

Oh, how far we've fallen.

No, I'm escaping some
exceptionally dorky mom bonding.

I'm watching you.

What? Who said that?

Don't you
recognize my voice?

It's the serial killer.

- Oh God! Where's Amanda?

The serial killer? Run away.

Hold on, Amanda.

Hold on, baby.

Oh, God! What do we do?

It's okay. I have an idea.

As long as this rock holds...

Ugh! Crap. I'm out of ideas.

We got this. We just ran
to get our stun guns.

That's why Linda
yelled "Run away."

Sorry if it was misleading.

Stun guns? No, it's
Amanda down there.

We don't know where
the serial killer is.

Oh, my God. That was amazing.

I'd love a turn if there's time.

No, of course.

Amanda, where's
the serial killer?

No killer. Just me pretending.

- But I slipped.

Wait, you were pretending
to be the serial killer?

Why? And how?

[woman through Babble
Box] I thought funny?

Holy crap. Do you
know what this means?

Yeah. It means that while
Amanda's still not funny,

this situation is hilarious.

Velma? Velma! Why
can't I find Velma?

Is it because I am bad and bad
people don't deserve good things?

Not at all.

I hit my wife's lover with a car

and the next day, found an uneaten
container of fries on a bench.

Velma!

Ah!

What's happening?

It's because you can't look
her in the eye, Daphne.

Because my conscience
won't let me.

And only good people
are hampered by their guilt.

I'm good. Oh, God!

I'm good.

Which means I have to
tell her what I did.

Crap.

You finally get the point.

Pencil joke.

Okay, I learned my
lesson. How do I wake up?

Even if she never talks to me
again, Velma deserves the truth.

And I maybe deserve some sort of
award for being so good and brave?

Wake up?

Daphne, don't you get
it yet? You're in hell.

Kidding. But if this is
anything like a bad dream,

usually you wake up
at the worst part.

- Don't say I never did anything for you.

Velma!

Velma!

- Daphne?
- Oh, you were all holier than thou

while we were talking
about the serial killer.

Then you let your
daughter go play

- a sick joke like this?
- Oh, yeah!

She only did that
to keep up with

your thirsty baby's early onset

- theater kid disorder.
- Oh!

I'd be careful what you say.

I write blind items for the
gossip column of the paper

and I'm not afraid
to put you on blast.

- Wait, you write those?
- Wow, seriously?

You told the whole
town I huffed paint.

Only my family is
supposed to know that.

- Wait, that's it.

We know who the
serial killer is.

What?

Wait, is it you? Because I
raised you better than that.

No. I mean we collectively
know who the serial killer is.

Look, women are
hell a observant.

We know everything
about everyone.

So instead of
attacking each other,

maybe we can use our skills of
observation to solve the case.

But you said talking openly
would tip off the serial killer

who, if she's listening,
is super-hot and cool

and please don't kill me.

That's just it.

I think the killer disguised their
voice using a Baby Babble Box.

It could be a man.

- Oh, God.

Hmm, what happened?

How did I get back in my body?

The cockroaches
brought you back.

You really have some
fans in those guys.

They made you a crown out
of rotting fruit and hair.

- Do you want to keep it?
- No.

What? All I know is that
I need to find Velma.

Wait, Fred?

What's he doing here?

Where am I?

Norville, if you're
trying to human traffic me,

my dad already tried and the
guys just said, "too clingy."

My grandson apparently
thought it was a good idea

to sneak a friend into
my top-secret hideout.

- ...to
solve a personal dispute.

Fred, this is my living
grandmother, Dr. Edna Perdue.

What?

Oh, God. No.

My mother wasn't possessed
and really was a killer.

That means I'm half-killer.

Or full-killer, if you
go by Judaism rules.

Norville, have there been any
changes in your hallucinations?

I think that worked.

She's fading faster than my
dad after one hard seltzer.

Yes. That did it!

She's gone.

Wait, what's going on?

What am I?

Okay.

Let's pool what we know to figure
out how the victims are connected.

Does anybody have anything
I could use to tape this up?

- I have some thumbtacks.
- I have tape and glue.

I have six years'
worth of receipts.

Okay, so to start,

does "Project SCOOBI" mean
anything to any of you?

Yes. Don usually doesn't
like to talk about work,

but one day he brought
home the Baby Babble Boxes

saying he made
them at the office.

Project SCOOBI was
written on the box.

You said you invented those.

And you said you finished that Jonathan
Franzen novel before our book club meeting.

No fighting.

A few months ago, I took my
daughter for tutoring at Mr. S's.

He was on the phone
when we arrived

and I heard him
say Project SCOOBI.

I remember because I
was staring at his mouth

and thinking
disgusting thoughts.

- Mmm, mmm.
- Oh, yeah!

Hey, stay on track.

I'm a nurse at the hospital

and I was kicked
out of the morgue

because the coroners had an
appointment with a lawyer

and all these other men.

Which is strange because
only surgeons need lawyers

for when they operate drunk.

Okay, so not only were all the
victims aware of Project SCOOBI,

they took a meeting with
a lawyer at the hospital.

Do you remember
what he looked like?

Yes.

- It was your dad.

What?

Good evening.

Just moments ago, the women exited
the mines facing zero resistance.

And now we know why.

What's more, Aman Dinkley
has been identified

as a person of interest
in the recent murders.

I'm not saying a thing.

He can't be the killer.

I have an app that
tracks his location,

monitors his heart rate,

- and records all his conversations.

He's lucky to have
found you, Sophie.

'Cause I would have just
told them to fry the sucker.

Daphne, you're back!

Velma, what's going on?

It's my dad. He's
somehow involved.

But, Daphne, look,

I am so sorry about what
I said at the seance.

I don't care if you're a witch.

I don't even care that
you're friends with Amber.

I just want to be with you.

Velma, I have to
tell you something.

Hmm?

I really like Amber.

Okay...

But...

I like you more.

And that's it.

That's all I have to tell you.

Cheers.