Original subtitles

Transcript by Addic7ed.com

BOY (voicechoing): Sneakers? Sneakers? Sneakers?

(dog toy squeaking) Come here, Sneakers.

(dog barking) Hey, Sneakers.

(phone ringing)

Shit.

- Hey. - Why are you not at my house?

Uh... Uh, I am at your house.

Don't lie to me, Ryan. I have security cameras

and I am looking at them online right now.

- Leo. - Well, you said that the chairs

weren't being delivered until 10:00, so...

- Which is why you should already be there. - I'll kill you!

(fly buzzing) This fly's been acting like a total dick all morning.

This party's for important people.

The kind of people who don't sit around

in their underwear all day watching TV with the neighbor's dog.

(sighs) Talking shit now, are ya?

(loud slap)

Uh... I'll be there in 15 minutes. I promise.

(fly buzzing) Bitched out by Kristen.

What a great way to start the day.

Ryan, remember when I told you a few weeks ago that you are a total pussy?

Well, I just want to apologize

for not emphasizing that enough.

What am I going to do? Yell at her?

She loaned me $5,000 for my car accident.

Ryan, anger is like herpes.

You're not meant to keep it to yourself.

Expressing your anger will make you feel better.

(fly buzzing)

Watch this.

No...

Die, you bloody bastard!

(yelling) Yeah!

(panting)

See?

The fly's dead. I feel much better.

No harm done whatsoever.

(fly buzzing)

- Why aren't I going to Kristen's? - Kristen hates you.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

No one hates me.

I'm Wilfred. I'm adorable.

Look at these eyes, the smile.

I once cracked a Nazi skinhead in the face with a beer bottle,

and you know what he did to me?

Belly rub.

Trust me, Kristen hates you.

We'll see about that.

I'm going.

What's that? (spritzing)

Binaca.

I don't want my breath smelling like balls.

Look, Leo, the chairs are here.

Wow, all these chairs and no throne?

Where's Dr. Ramos going to sit?

Leo thinks it's weird that I'm throwing a party

- in honor of my boss. - Because it is weird.

Dr. Ramos just got a grant to open a clinic in India,

and he's looking for an associate to oversee the project.

See, Leo doesn't understand that people actually get ahead

by playing office politics.

Which is, maybe,

why he's still a claims investigation supervisor.

And maybe claims investigation supervisor's

one of the most respected titles in all of insurance.

And maybe our therapist told you to work on your passive-aggressive tone.

Really? 'Cause maybe you ought to...

Hey, Leo, it's nice to see you.

Hey, Ryan.

Kristen, shall I compare thee to a sunset?

Morning dew? Flowers?

Blah, blah, blah?

Some other beautiful shit?

The point is, you look good.

Milady.

Ew! Oh! Oh!

God!

(yelling) My rat!

(voice breaks): You ungrateful bitch.

Why'd you bring that stupid dog?

You're even more obsessed with him

than that stupid Jack Russell you had when we were kids.

Sneakers. He had a name.

Great. The entrails fell out.

Now it's worthless.

KRISTEN: Wait a minute.

Where are the cushions?

You didn't say anything about cushions.

I didn't think I had to, Ryan, on account of it being obvious.

You know what, Kristen?

Ah, yeah, that's it, get mad.

You got something to say, Ryan?

That was pathetic.

You just grabbed your ankles and took it.

No wonder she has no respect for you.

She didn't treat you that well, either.

Which was surprising, because I thought everyone loves Wilfred.

Everyone does--

except her, because she's not human.

Cold black heart, dead eyes.

Nice tits.

By the way, who's Sneakers?

No one.

YOUNG RYAN (voice echoing): Sneakers?

Sneakers?

Come here, boy.

(dog toy squeaking)

Sneakers?

(gasps)

(dog toy squeaking)

(squeaking)

Sneakers is no one, huh?

Do you usually buy priceless jewelry for no one?

Imitation colored glass?

Plastic painted to look like metal?

This isn't some cheap, made in China knockoff.

This is made in Taiwan, you bastard.

Keeping another dog on the side, are you?

Sneakers was my dog 20 years ago.

20 years, 20 minutes-- it makes no difference to me, Ryan.

You know I have no concept of time.

Well, I do, and it's 2:00 in the morning.

I'm going back to bed.

Damn it, why won't you tell me about Sneakers?!

Because I killed him! Okay?

I killed him.

Well...

that's a relief.

He was the sweetest little dog.

He did these cute backflips.

Every morning I'd wake up with him

snuggled against me, licking my ear.

Then one day

I found Sneakers...

floating in the pool.

I left the gate open.

I was always so careful.

I killed my best friend.

Snuggled up against you licking your ear?

What, in the same bed?

Where did you meet this budgie smuggler,

a Maroon 5 concert?

Don't be an asshole.

It was a long time ago.

Then I assume you won't mind if I wear this.

(gasps)

Are you all right?

Yeah. Yes.

It's just a little chilly down here, I guess.

I'm going back to bed.

Uh...

Wilfred?

That's not mine.

All right, I've been thinking it over

and I know what happened last night.

After I went to sleep, you somehow managed

to some sort of homo chip planted in my brain.

You caught me.

Let's go to the vet and get that removed.

No, no vets. That won't be necessary.

(phone ringing) Wow, miraculous recovery.

Hello.

Don't forget to bring Mom's old copper ice tub tonight.

And remember to be here two hours early to set up the bar.

Oh, well, why not three?

I really don't appreciate

- the attitude, Ryan. - Sorry.

This party's important to me.

So just do your best, all right?

I've got it.

It wasn't a homo chip.

It was a glowing orb of gayness,

brought here by aliens that you summoned, because...

Stop. You know what I think?

It's pretty coincidental

that you suddenly start acting like my old dog Sneakers.

What? You think I'm acting?

You tell me.

Ryan, dogs are very empathic creatures.

In fact, some cultures,

the Hindus for example,

they believe that we dogs can help the living

communicate with the dead.

Are you saying that the ghost of my dead dog

is trying to possess your body?

Dude, can you blame him?

The glowing orb of gayness is more believable than that.

Ryan, it's true. And I can prove it.

But first, we must cross over

to the other side.

The other side of the room?

Yeah, I dropped my guts over there.

That's going to reek. Sorry, mate.

Wait!

We're going to uncover the mysteries

of the afterlife, Ryan.

The secrets of the dead.

And we'll do it all with the most sacred tool of dark magic!

S...

H...

M...

E...

Wash me...

Wash me?

Oh, very funny, Bear. I could feel you pushing it the whole time.

Ryan, can you come over here?

I need someone who's going to take this seriously.

I don't have time for this nonsense.

- I have to get to Kristen's. - Nonsense?

Can't you feel the tormented souls around us?

Gary Coleman, is that you?

What do you mean, what am I talking about...?

(laughing) Oh, I get it.

Ah-hah!

Kristen's old swim goggles.

What's this doing here?

(eerie sounds)

(sputtering)

(gentle voice): Hi, Ryan. It's me. Skeakers.

That isn't funny, Wilfred.

Wilfred? Gosh, golly,

don't you recognize your old buddy Sneakers?

I'm not kidding. Cut the shit.

Yippity-do!

Want to go have a snuggle?

Or watch me do

one of my neat-o backflips?

Give me that collar.

What's wrong, Ryan? Are you still mad at me

for chewing the feet off your footie pajamas?

Remember? The ones with the race cars all over them?

Sneakers?

Ryan, I know you feel bad about how I died,

but it wasn't your fault.

I left the gate open.

Nuh-uh. It was Kristen.

What?

Wilfred, I swear, if this is just you...

It was all her fault.

And she let you live with the guilt for 20 years.

Guilt that made you a sad, sad boy.

You know, in the back of my mind

I always thought that maybe she...

She did.

Maybe we should go over to her house

and make her a sad, sad girl.

Maybe we should punch her tits off.

You can be a real bastard, Wilfred.

- Wilfred? - You're just mad at Kristen because she doesn't like you,

so you want me to be mad at her, too.

This is sick.

Ryan, I don't understand...

(sputtering)

(deep voice): Four score and seven years ago...

(sputtering)

(normal voice): Oh, God, what just happened?

(sputtering)

(deep voice): That man is not the real Magic Johnson.

I died in 1992. That guy looks nothing like me.

(sputtering)

Are you really sick?

Or are you just faking it so you can come over here and mess with Kristen?

(normal voice): Have a bit of sympathy, mate.

I just had a terrifying paranormal experience.

My stomach's in knots, my head's pounding.

I asked you to bring Mom's antique copper tub.

This is tin.

- Ryan strikes again. - It's the only one

in the basement.

There's a basement?

Kristen, hey, I think

we just got off on the wrong foot yesterday.

- No. Why would you bring him? - I couldn't leave him alone.

He's not feeling well.

Just promise me he won't shit on the lawn or do anything...

(retching)

Sorry.

I'll hose it off right away.

Just leave it. I'll eat it later.

I'm going to go rinse my mouth out in the toilet.

Hey, I was thinking...

Do you remember the day I found Sneakers in the pool?

I guess. Why?

Well, we always thought I was the one

who left the gate open, but I was wondering,

is it possible that maybe...

Maybe what?

Maybe it-it was you?

Oh.

One hour and 48 minutes before my big party,

and you decide to accuse me

of killing that backflipping little idiot?

You know what, Ryan?

Sometimes you can be really insensitive.

Hey!

Kristen may be a bitch, but she'd never let me believe

I killed my dog all these years if it wasn't true.

- I don't know why I listen to you. - Me? I didn't say anything.

It was Sneakers, and he's got no reason to lie.

Will you stop with this paranormal bullshit.

You don't believe me?

Call her out on her lies.

Get the truth, and get angry for once.

Just stop. She doesn't like you-- deal with it.

I'm not going to ruin her party, and neither are you.

I'm locking you in the car, Wilfred.

(sputtering)

Wilfred?

(Sneaker's voice): Wilfred's not here anymore.

There's only Sneakers.

And I won't rest until Kristen gets what's coming to her.

- In the car, now. - Okay. Race you there.

And after six minutes of infant CPR,

I looked into the baby's eyes,

and I said, "You live, now."

That exact moment, the baby just

stared right back at me, with his big, brown eyes

as if to say, "Thank you."

And took his first breath.

Oh!

And that's when I vowed

I'd someday return to that village

- and open a clinic. - LEO: Let me get this straight.

An obstetrician delivered a baby without killing it?

(Kristen laughing)

Oh, look, honey, it's the Davidsons.

Don't forget to check out the chocolate fountain.

Really?

Okay, that's it-- Leo is cut off.

Could this party get any worse?

You put that dog away, right?

He's in the car.

He won't bother anyone from there.

(car horn honking)

(honking continues) Uh...

- I should go check on him. - Are you kidding?

(glass shatters) Ryan?!

(horn honking)

Oh, no.

(gasps) What the hell, Ryan.

I just had to pour Dr. Ramos a glass of Chardonnay myself.

Do you know how that looks?

Sorry. I just need a second.

No. Just get back to the bar.

(loud crash)

Oh, my God! What happened?!

A dog knocked over the table.

- A dog? - I'll take care of it.

(dog toy squeaking)

(screaming)

KRISTEN: Ryan!

Oh, I'm so sorry.

(toy squeaks distantly)

(squeaking)

(squeaking)

- Ew! - Oh, my God!

Ah, stop!

(squeaking) Wilfred!

(Sneaker's voice): Look at how she laughs, Ryan.

Oh, God. A crazy night.

I can't laugh like that,

because my lungs are filled with water.

I don't believe you. You're just doing this 'cause Kristen doesn't like you.

No, I'm doing this to make that bitch pay for killing me.

Yippity-do! (squeaking)

RYAN: Watch out!

Oh, my God! Oh, I'm so sorry!

I'm so sorry!

- RAMOS: What happened? - KRISTEN: Oh! I'm sorry.

Oh, God.

(yelling)

(toy squeaking)

MAN: Oh, my God. Did you see that?

WOMAN: Get her a towel.

WILFRED (normal voice): Where am I?

Oh, God.

Here it comes.

It's okay. I swallowed it.

Kristen, I'm so sorry.

Sorry?

You ruined my party, Ryan.

The Ramoses left.

That dog is a four-legged piece of shit.

Hey, take it easy on Wilfred.

God, you talk about him like he's a person.

I am so tired of dealing with that stupid dog.

- Ever since he came here... - Shut up!

- Just shut the hell up! - What?

I am sick of taking your shit!

Ever since we were kids, it's like you get off on treating me like crap.

Like when Sneakers died-- you kept rubbing my face in it.

Don't you think I felt guilty enough?

(sobbing)

Kristen?

I left it open.

What?

I came home to get my goggles for swim practice

and I left the gate open.

Goggles...

It was me.

How could you let me live with that guilt for 20 years?

I don't know.

You know, Mom and Dad always liked you more.

You were always sweet and creative.

And I was always the uptight little girl everyone avoided.

Even Sneakers liked you more than me.

And you know what?

He was supposed to be my dog.

Remember?

I got him for my birthday.

I'm so sorry, Ryan.

Can you forgive me?

I don't know.

What if I forget about the rest of the $5,000 you owe me?

You want to pay me off?

Yeah.

I guess it's a start.

I'm so glad you finally know the truth.

I have been walking around with this

for so long.

I guess that's why I get so upset around Wilfred.

You know, I don't really hate him.

WILFRED: And there it is.

She loves me.

I knew it the whole time.

It's so obvious.

Do you think he'd let me pet him?

Hey, Wilfred. You're such a sweet...

Piss off!

Ryan... (sobbing)

What? I still hate the bitch.

(Sneaker's voice): Hey, Ryan, it's me again.

Yippity-do.

Seriously? Aren't we done with this?

I'm just here to say good-bye.

Now that you're no longer carrying

the guilt of my death, I can finally rest in peace.

Cool. See ya.

Wait.

I was hoping we could have one last snuggle.

No, thanks.

Please?

And then I'll never bother you again.

(Sneaker sighs)

Close your eyes.

(dog yipping)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Transcript by Addic7ed.com

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