All language subtitles for The Neighbors s01e08 Thanksgiving is for the Bird-Kersees.eng

My name is Debbie Weaver.

This is my family.

This is our old apartment
in Bayonne, New Jersey.

My husband Marty got us a deal
on a town house...

Nicer neighborhood,
wider streets.

Just one little problem.

Our neighbors are all
from another planet...

Literally.

Hey, hon. I'm making
shelf room for the turkey.

Do me a favor.
Come here. Taste this.

- Went bad, right?
- Definitely.

- I knew it.
- And thank you.

What could be more american

than eating food
to make room for more food?

Happy day-before-thanksgiving, babe.

Don't remind me.

- (mouth full) Listen, it's gonna be great.
- No. It's gonna be like every other year,

where your father's gonna make
you feel small and worthless,

and your mother's gonna
judge everything I do.

And I just dipped this chicken
wing into the cake icing.

Do you think I'm getting
diabetes right now?

Look, my pop has nothing
to rag on me about this year.

We got the new house
to brag about, right?

I got the promotion.

Not wearing
the goatee anymore.

- I hated the goatee.
- Yeah, bring it on, daddy. (door opens)

Oh, is that a new painting?

I don't like it.

- Yeah. What's up, Larry?
- Oh, it's nothing.

Jackie Joyner-Kersee has merely
wandered out of our community.

Oh, my god.
Is Jackie okay?

Perfectly fine.
She's profoundly depressed.

Just this time of year
reminds her

of when we arrived
on your planet.

She starts missing her family.
Blah, blah, blah. Lady feelings.

Anyway, she's wandering around
in a field.

It's kind of our therapy.

There she is. Wife!

Enough pouting! Come!

- Larry, is this what you do when you're sad?
- No, no.

I'm more of a prober.

Come on, pumpkin!
Step it up!

(crow cawing)

S01E08
Thanksgiving Is for the Bird-Kersees

Sync by ninh
www.addic7ed.com

Honey, did you figure out what
you're cooking for tomorrow?

Who cares?
She gonna hate it anyway.

I won't hate it,
I just won't like it.

Hey. She meant grandma.
Now apologize to your mother.

I'm sorry I don't like
your bad cooking.

You know my mom
likes traditional, hon,

- So don't even overthink it.
- Oh, okay.

So when she takes the tiniest
bite of the tiniest wing,

and she makes that face,
and she says to me,

"maybe next year, dear,"
I won't overthink that, either.

Do we have to wear
her stupid sweaters?

Hey, if I have to make her
a turkey that she hates,

then you can wear the sweaters
that she's made for you.

Why don't you just make the turkey
how she likes it for once?

Don't you think
I've tried that, Abby?!

It's just a turkey!

Whoa! Hey!

Come on.
What's happening here?

They didn't even get here,
and we're going nuts, huh?

Why don't we just
not have them come this year?

Don't tease me, Martin Weaver.

Don't you dare tease me.

We deserve a nice thanksgiving,
just the five of us,

- Eating whatever we want.
- Say it again, you sweet, sweet man!

(laughs) Yes!

Wait. I know
what we should do!

Let's deep-fry a turkey!

Max, yes.

You are brilliant!
I don't care what the testing says!

An in-law-free,
deep-fried thanksgiving!

Whoo!

Wait.
What did the testing say?

Yeah! We're gonna do it!
We're doing it!

I am canceling my parents!
I'm a hero, honey.

I am a hero...
(crack)

Ooh. Oh.

- Get him...get him. Take him from me.
- Okay. Quick.

- (Max) Sorry.
- All right.

Okay.

- High five.
- Yeah!

(laughs) Ha...

Hello. What?

Yeah, dad, listen,
I got... I got some bad news.

Theresa, come here.
It's Marty with bad news.

What's wrong?
Oh, you look puffy.

Yeah, thanks, mom.

Listen, I hate to do this to
you guys on such short notice,

But, um, thanksgiving?

We have to cancel.

Because Debbie
just texted me

that the the oven is broken.

(lowered voice)
If her turkey's any indication,

it's been broken
for 18 years.

We both know
what this is about.

He's just embarrassed
to show us the new house.

You're just covering the screen
with your hand, ma.

I can still hear you.

(normal voice) We certainly will miss
Debbie's delicious turkey.

Marty.
Marty, what is this?

Is this because you're embarrassed
of how small the new condo is?

Look, we can bring our own
chairs if that's an issue.

Dad, I have
my own chairs, okay?

And it's not a condo,

It's a nice townhouse.

Sorry.

(lowered voice) I knew
it wasn't a real house.

I just didn't know
what the proper term was.

It is a real house, dad.
It's a real house.

(normal voice) Then why
are you so embarrassed for us to see it?

I'm not embarrassed.

You know what?

You come tomorrow. You come see
my nice house. How 'bout that?

Can we bring any chairs?

Whatever you want, ma!

(beeps)

(whirring)

(grunts)

Hey, Reggie Jackson.

So your mom's still
pretty depressed, huh?

She really misses
her sisters this time of year.

It must be hard having her
family all the way back home.

Up home?

Oh, no. They're here.

- In the neighborhood?
- Mm-hmm.

Boys, it is forbidden
to discuss the exiled ones.

Jackie,
you have sisters here?

Yes, I do.

However, my husband
does not like my sisters.

You can say that again.

Fine. However, my husband
does not like my sisters.

Well, I guess no matter
what galaxy you're from,

in-laws are tough.

Mother, I wish
I could cheer you up.

I know, my son.

But there is no magical event which
brings families together to enjoy one another

while being thankful for what they do have
as opposed to what they do not.

(sighs)

You're killing me.

Babe, we gotta talk.

Marty, whatever you do,

do not google
"deep-fried turkey disasters."

Remember when we googled
"tongue bumps"?

It's worse.

Look, I did something.

I did something, too.

- I invited my parents.
- I invited the Bird-Kersees.

- No!
- What?!

Me no? You no!

What happened
to just us?

Okay, how are you gonna explain
the Bird-Kersees to your folks?

Well, you know, they're
better at blending in now.

And when my parents
see a white guy

with a black lady,
an asian kid, and a redhead,

they're not gonna be much
into conversation, so...

- At last, an upside to racism.
- Yeah.

But I won't give up
my deep-fried turkey. I won't.

Look, no one's
asking you to.

But we wanted
this perfect thanksgiving.

Now we might just have to
settle for "fine."

- Think we can do that?
- Marty, we live in New Jersey.

I drive a minivan.
I'm built for fine.

And now we know
what to expect,

So there's no more
surprises, right?

Nope. No more surprises.

(Reggie Jackson) Father would be furious
if he knew what we were doing.

(cart powers down)

(beeps)

Brian Boitano.
Greg Louganis.

- We must see the prisoners.
- Do you have written orders?

Oh, of course, Greg.
Come closer.

(grunts)
There's your written order!

I'm the commander's son!
I am the law!

Open it!

(beeps, whirring)

Ladies...

Although you've been exiled
for attempting to overthrow my father,

our mother misses you.

Therefore, we come
neither as judge nor friend,

but with a question...

Want to come to thanksgiving?

(crinkling)

Okay. Gammy and pop-pop
just pulled in.

Kids, mommy apologizes now
for everything she says.

(doorbell rings)

Here we go.

(door opens)

- Hey!
- Hey!

You know, you got a crack
in the pavement out here.

- What's that smell?
- And so it begins. Hi!

Hi, gammy! Hi, pop-pop!

(laughs) Prettiest girl in the family
by a mile!

- Thanks.
- Thanks.

So, pop, I told you
the house was nice, huh?

Let me give you the tour.

Uh-huh. Uh-huh.

I just took it.

Maybe a nice cold beer could
take a tour of my mouth.

Right.

Who's ready for a sweater?

I got the patterns from
rosie o'donnell's craft book.

For a lesbian crackpot, she does
have some darling ideas!

Awesome!

I always wanted to wear
genocide.

And, Maxy,
here's your sweater.

And for my Abby,

I made the most special sweater.

(beeping and gobbling)

Here you go, pop.

What the hell is this?

It's a microbrew.
The best money can buy.

(scoffs) Microbrew.

So I guess you're a raging
liberal now, too, huh?

Yeah, I don't even know how to connect the dots
on that one, dad, so...

(knock on door)

Uh-oh, son. You got
some Jehovahs at the door.

They're our neighbors, dad.
Be nice.

Come on in.

- This is my dad dominick.
- Hello.

Greetings, Marty's father.

I am neighbor Larry Bird.

My wife, Jackie Joyner-Kersee,
and my two sons,

Reggie Jackson
and Dick Butkus.

Where are you folks from?

- Florida.
- Downtown.

- I look asian.
- My biological mother was a redhead.

I have often wanted to meet the man
who birthed my friend Marty.

Ah!

You hear that, Marty? someone actually wants
To spend thanksgiving with me.

Strong, commanding,
and funny.

I like you, Larry Bird.

I bet you don't drink no new age
nonsense beer, neither, huh?

Appalling grammar aside,
I'm grateful I appear to be winning.

(Dominick chuckles)

Well, look. Gang's all here!

Theresa, these are
our neighbors.

Oh!

Colorful. Fun. Hi.
Where are you guys from?

- Mexico.
- Midtown.

- My biological mother was a redhead.
- I'm jewish.

Oh, god.
(doorbell rings)

I believe our surprise guests
have arrived.

(whispers) It's your sisters.
My sisters?

Tell me you didn't.

Tell me you didn't
disobey your father

And invite the greatest
intergalactic threat

to my reign to this house!

(forced laugh)

So I think we're gonna
need a second.

- Mm-hmm.
- Uh, you guys,

Sit down over here.

All righty. Got a deck
of cards for ya. Okay.

- (singsongy) Hey!
- (singsongy) Hey!

- I'm Jackie's sister.
- And I am Jackie's other sister.

- So, questions abound.
- There's no time.

- Take them back to exile, guards!
- Husband, please.

Please allow me
to say hello first.

My sisters!
(laughing)

Oh, I missed you two! Ohh!

So he's your sister?

Allow me to explain.

We chose these bodies
because we learned

the most unique friendships on your earth
are between of women of color...

- And men of prance.
- Oh.

Reggie Jackson!
You look exactly the same.

- How do you do it?
- Black don't crack,

But asian
doesn't even peel.

- Blam!
- Blam!

I need to speak to my family alone.
(inhales deeply)

Debbie Weaver, you may take your family
and go to your basement.

Not happening, Larry.

Fine. Then I will go to the bedroom
with my adopted, redheaded, jewish family

from Midtown, Mexico.

(exhales deeply)

(lowered voice) Do you two know how
dangerous it was to let them out?!

They thought they were
doing something nice.

Until you two try
to overthrow me again.

Oh, hooker, please!

It was a misunderstanding!

You two threw me out
of a second-story window,

shouting, "we are going
to overthrow you," so...

- (whispers) Hooker, please!
- Husband, I love you,

but they are my family, and it is one day,
and they are staying!

You go, girl!
That's my little sister!

Mm!

I hope you two are happy!

Families in conflict...

Amber described
all of this to me.

It's beginning to feel
a lot like thanksgiving.

Hmm.

(man)
This thanksgiving day,
hey!

Fried turkey.
That's not a meal.

It's a prank on god.

(flatly) No, stop, Theresa.
Don't go.

She's a hot mess.
Life is too short.

And so are you.

(all) Blam!
(laughing)

So, dad, dad,
check this out, okay?

It's a 1080p,
54-inch plasma...

Oh, please.

Marty's father,
would you agree

My wife should have chosen
my side over her sisters'?

In an argument,
she should do what you say,

or you'll wind up like Marty,
with his wife calling the shots

and your stones in a jar.

(laughs) (forced laugh) Hey, that's
real funny, dad. Real clever.

Aah!

Make it stop!
(sweater gobbling)

- I'm losing my mind!
- We have to kill the sweater.

Theresa, enough. It's clean.
We're not operating on it.

Let me help, Debbie.

Just because your children's
hands are dirty

doesn't mean the table
has to be.

You know what, theresa?
Come after the turkey,

Come after my table,
but leave my kids alone.

My kids are angels.

(Abby) Kill it! Kill that sweater!
(sweater gobbling and beeping)

(Amber) Kill the sweater!
(Abby screaming)

- Death to the sweater!
- Kill it.

Death to the sweater!
(screaming)

Death to the sweater!

- Wife.
- Yes?

Marty's father says you should listen to me
and get rid of your sisters.

Oh. Well, your wife says you should
give her one day with her sisters,

who she hasn't seen in ten years.

So whose side are you
going to take on this?

Definitely Marty's father.
(gasps)

- (Abby) Kill it, Max!
- All you do is complain.

Nothing I do
is good enough for you.

Not just me, dear.

And maybe if you tried a little harder...
(sighs)

Hey, mom,
get off her back, okay?

She works harder
than anyone I know.

She is an incredible mother,
and she's a terrific wife,

and if you can't treat her
with a little bit of respect,

then maybe you should go.

Fine. I'll be in the car.

At least it's clean.

Whoa, whoa!

You won't stand up
to your wife,

and you talk to your mother like that?
(door closes)

Oh, he stands up
to me plenty.

And maybe if you took a break
from criticizing everything he does,

you could say one nice thing to him.

It's nice to come here
and get yelled at.

I'm gonna get
another lady beer.

- Good. Go!
- It's a microbrew!

You just had to invite
your parents.

Okay, it's my fault.
Always my fault!

Thanksgiving sucks!

What are you doing,
Debbie Weaver?

(mouth full) Just puttin' some
food on my feelings, Reggie.

It's what we do.

Why do you let
Marty's mother get to you?

Oh, Dick,
that's adult grownup stuff.

Grownup?
She's in the car pouting,

and you're eating
mirsh-mallow out of a bag.

You're good boys,

So I'm gonna shoot it
to you straight, okay?

Thanksgiving is hell.

The only good parts
are the day before

when everything is possible,

and the day after
when everyone goes home.

In between, it's just a feast
of self-loathing gluttony

with a side of shame.

And all you can do is just
hunker down and accept it.

(bag rustles)

Permission
to board vehicle?

Sure.

(grunts)
(door alert chiming)

(grunting)

(continues grunting)

(chiming stops)
(groans)

Are you ready to join us
for turkey ingestion?

(chuckles) It's sweet of you to ask,

But no.

It's just... Our family
is complicated.

Why are you so hard on her?

I'm her mother-in-law.

And he's my only son.
I want the best for him.

My mother-in-law kept me
on my toes.

And her mother-in-law
kept her on hers.

That's the game, kid.

She takes great care of him,
and you make her feel terrible.

Change the game.

(perry como's
"prayer of thanksgiving" plays)

(silverware clattering)

(door closes)

I hoped there'd be a...

tiny wing left?

(silverware clatters)

(snaps)

(choir)

Actually, Debbie,
it's quite good.

It is? Really?

- (lowered voice) What's happening?
- (whispers) It could be a trick.

Keep your guard up.

You've done a good job here,
Debbie.

In the spirit of giving
and admitting things,

my sister and I
have something to say.

Larry Bird, I guess if looked at
from a certain angle,

I can see how some would say
we owe you an apology.

We never wanted
to overthrow you.

- Yes, you did.
- Yes, we did.

But the truth is, we did it
because we just never thought

that you were good enough
for our baby sister.

No one is.

Oh, that's so sweet.

Have we lost sight of the fact
that you threw me out of a window?

Sort of burying the lede here.

So, uh, since we all
seem to be mending fences...

What? What do you want?

You want a sweet sob story
that ends with a big hug?

Fine.

Have I told you all the story
about the time

that Marty here struck out
in T-ball?

T-ball! Where the ball sits
on a tee, not even moving.

That's just what I needed.
That's perfect.

Happy thanksgiving.

And it's a big ball.
It just sits there.

You...
All right.

(voice breaking)
We will miss you.

(voice breaking) I will miss you, too.

Hold on.

If there's one thing I learned
from that insufferable meal,

it is that family
is important, I guess.

My wife is...
my entire world,

and my world misses her sisters.

So, against my better judgment
and sense of self-preservation,

you two are released from exile.

(gasps)
Ohh!

(laughing)
whoa.

Maybe you are good enough
for our little sister after all.

Really? So you'll stop
trying to kill me?

Absolutely.
Would you like a sip of wine?

Just touch the glass.

All you gotta do is just
touch the glass.

(whispers) Don't touch it.

Touch it!
(gasps)

All right, ma, we'll see you soon.
I love you.

Well... Okay.

Uh-huh.

All right.
Drive safe, dad.

You didn't let me finish
the story.

'cause I know the story, dad.
I struck out in t-ball, okay?

Kids all laughed.
You got disappointed.

Rinse and repeat.
I get it.

Stop cutting me off,
numb nuts.

You struck out
in frickin' t-ball,

Which is no easy feat.

And everybody was
laughing at you.

Yeah, I know, dad.
I remember.

Two innings later,
you come up again,

you barely make contact.
A lazy fly ball.

You trip on your way
to first base.

I even think your pants fell.
I don't remember.

No. They fell, pop.
This is a great story.

Thanks so much for the trip
down memory lane.

The point is,
you didn't quit.

You never quit.

The sweet,
sobby part of the story,

which you didn't let me finish,
is that my son never quits.

Even if that means trying
to get his jealous old man

to tell him that he's got
a pretty nice new place here.

So you like...
you like the place?

You did good, kid.

(exhales)
(pats back)

Take care of yourself.

(Harper Simon)

You better crack a window, Theresa.

It's a long way home, and that
turkey's going right through me.

Ooh.
(engine starts)

Congratulations, brother.
You never give up.

Dick Butkus,
you changed the game.

(laughing)

What about those sweaters?

- Oh!
- Oh!

I still hear mine singing.
(Debbie and Marty laugh)

And P.S.this fried turkey?
Really bad.

- Disgusting.
- Ohh!

- Greatest thanksgiving ever.
- Yes, it was.

(moans)

(sniffs) Guys?

Something's burning
in the backyard.

- The deep fryer! Call 9-1-1!
- Uh-huh.

(Debbie) You just had to ask us
for a deep-fried turkey!

(Max) I'm 8 years old, mom.
Stop indulging me.

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