All language subtitles for The.Great.North.S04E14.720p.WEB.x265-MiNX

Ham, I love that you made
my pancake into a little face,

but I regret to inform you

that now I simply
cannot eat Gerard.

Gonna have a
tough life in Alaska

if you can't bring yourself
to eat a friend, doll.

Okay, how about a
piece of my practice flan instead?

Dad ate most of them
yesterday, but there's a few left.

Figures. For centuries,
men have been eating

more than their
fair share of the flan.

Preach. Pigs.

My brother's
gonna be a celebrity

for making the flan for a
real, professional restaurant.

You must feel like the
non-famous Hemsworth

- right about now?
- Yep.

Invisible but proud.

Which menu will your flan be on?

Regular, kids or seniors?

- All three, baby.
- Ooh-la-la.

Holy hot dogs, Ham.

Hey, where's Dad?

He usually only takes a
three-and-a-half-minute shower,

but he's been in
there 14 minutes now.

I mean, he's
probably just way in the zone.

Getting all those papa
nooks and dad crannies.

Wolf, how many times
do I have to ask you

not to say "dad crannies"?

Many more, probably.

Was that Dad?

Dad, you okay in there?

Perfect.

Whoops.

Closing the door.

But, Dad...

sounds like you're in pain?

I am fine, son.

Just having a little
pain in my midsection.

And chest. And back.

- Chest?
- And back.

Probably just pulled
some muscles.

You want me to...

come in and get
your towel for you?

No, thank you, son. I
shall use nature's towel...

Standing here.

Hey, Dad.

- You doing okay?
- Do not worry, Ham.

Just pulled a few
muscles in the shower.

Makes perfect sense, but may I
also suggest you see a doctor?

Nonsense. I'll go see the
magical glacial water pipe

in Death Cliff today and
drink its healing waters.

- - Mother Pipe?
- Dad, that's a very cool legend,

but maybe we see a real doctor
instead of a leaky metal tube.

No, thank you.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I better get ready
for my journey.

That's good.

- Oop.
- - Dad butt!

Good thinking, towel.

I am perfectly dry.

So the crooked butt
crack runs in the family.

- Yeah. -
- My poops come out in a curlicue

like soft-serve ice cream.

Well, it was
great to see you, veronica.

We can't let two
years go by again.

I was relieved when
you reached out to me.

Funny story... I
thought you were dead.

Really? - Yeah.

Everyone in Fresno said
you followed some guy

into the wilderness.

I've seen Dateline, Honeybee.

I know how those stories end.

I didn't just follow a guy.

I fell in love.

Is someone making
you say that right now?

Blink three times if yes.

- I just got married and moved away.
- Okay,

it's just... If anything, a
guy should be following you.

Crap, I got to go.

My neighbor's kid is looking
through my window again.

Get out of here, Hans!

Bye, Honeybee. Don't
lose yourself up there.

Whatever, Veronica.

I didn't follow a guy.

I'm a leader. In fact,
I'm gonna lead myself

on a walk around the property.

And because I want
to, not because it's one

of the only things you
can do around this place.

Okay.

There she is, Mother Pipe.

Alaska's doctor.

Sweet mountain nectar.

Thank you, dear Mother.

I have suckled and
been made whole.

Better go have one more sip

to heal these fresh wounds.

I mean, who does
Veronica think she is?

So what if I moved
up here for a guy?

What, I should have
stayed in Fresno,

working at the curtain store?

My dad playing
Steely Dan all day?

Ooh. What in the...

"Wife"?

That's all they put
on this lady's grave?

No name?

Well, maybe there's
something on the back.

Nope.

You poor girl.

You got to be more
than just "Wife."

I got to get to
the bottom of this.

All right, Wife, you
wait right here, which...

you have to, 'cause you're dead.

I-I'll be right back.

Thanks for taking
me by the grocery store.

I still can't believe you can
buy a fully cooked chicken

every single day.

Good.

And they did not
skimp on the bones.

Hey, kids.

Your dad went to suck
on that drainage pipe

or whatever it is, so
he sent us to get you.

So, guys, have you seen
this grave out in the woods

- that's just labeled "Wife"?
- Yep.

I have that grave marked on
my cemetery map of Lone Moose

for when the zombie
apocalypse starts.

Hell if Wife is
gonna eat my brain.

Well, she's eating
my brain already,

'cause she's all
I can think about.

That poor woman
is just lying out there

in a hole marked "Wife."

Not even a name.

I've seen that grave,
like, a million times

and just kind of shrugged
it off as vintage sexism,

but, yeah, no one deserves
to just be thrown in a hole

and labeled with the W-word.

Unless the W-word is "Wassup."

Can you even imagine
that on a grave?

I think I'm gonna
do a little research

and find out who this woman was.

Maybe I can share her
accomplishments with the world.

- I'm in.
- Let's dig up her secrets.

And maybe her jewelry.

Hey, Dad.

That's a pretty fun
noise you're making.

You aren't by any chance
still in pain, are you, Father?

Nope. I suckled the pipe,

and her nectars are at this
very moment coating my insides

in a thick layer of health.

Good, 'cause my flan
reveal is at lunch tomorrow,

and I need you at
full eating strength.

Hey. Slippity
Dips is starting.

In our first slippity clip,

a mailman named Floyd makes a...

Floyd-ian slip.

- Dad?
- Dad, we really should get you to the doctor.

Like, now.

Nonsense.

In this next slip,

a child falls in a ravine.

In a funny way.

Guys, I'm hella
worried about Dad.

I googled his symptoms,

and it could be anything
from muscle spasm

to a heart attack to something
called "haunted pancreas."

I'm worried, too,
but it's impossible

to get that man to a doctor.

Remember when one of
his feet faced the wrong way

for, like, a year?

Of course. I had to tie the boot

on the backwards
one every morning.

But this isn't
gonna be like that,

because I have a plan.

It's not just giving
him compliments, is it?

Yeah, there'll be
a little of that, sure.

But here's what we do:

we give him the doctor
exam sneaky-style,

right here at home.

Fun. Dibs on
nodding reassuringly

while listening
through a stethoscope.

Okay, Operation HPV is a go...

Heal Papa Victoriously.

Love the plan, hate the name.

All right, hands in.

H-P...

It's just gonna be me?

Fine. V!

Okay, here he comes. Time
to get into our dad's body.

My God. It's like
you've never heard

a word you've said.

Hello, Father.

How was work this morning?

Good haul?

Kill a lot of fish?

Cool, cool.

And, brisk wind out on the sea?

Any difficulty breathing?

The breathing was...

great.

Dad,

just, wondering,

when you hauled the fish in,

which of these faces
did you feel like?

None. Those guys
are all hotter than me.

Okay...

Guys, I've got a big problem.

I have a project
for science class,

and the topic is
older men's urine.

I remember that unit.

But I forgot to collect
an older man's pee.

Damn it.

Guess I'll just fail.

That sucks.

Unless...

Dad, could you pee in this cup
and then write your name on it?

And then seal it? And
then write today's date?

And then give it back to me?

I'll surely get an A.

Yeah, with Dad's pee in
your pocket, you can't lose.

Gentlemen, I was
not birthed yesterday.

I see that you three
are trying to give me

some kind of
at-home doctor's exam.

Geez, Dad, all we asked
for was a little bit of pee

and suddenly we lose all trust?

Son, cut it out.

My body is private,
even to myself.

That's why there's a curtain
around it called "my skin."

- But, Dad, you really should...
- Put your "but, Dad"

in your butt, son.

Can no one hear themselves?

Now, if you'll excuse
me, I'm going to head back

to Mother Pipe for another sip.

But, Dad, my flan debuts at
the restaurant today at lunch.

You promised to go.

I'll meet you there at noo...

oon.

Should we just take
his pee by force?

Damn it. If we can't
get Dad to a doctor,

maybe we can
get a doctor to Dad.

Yep. One way or another, we
have got to push those D's together.

Okay, now I'm doing it.

All right,
we know that Wife's grave

is from 1888.

And it says here that some
very unprepared British settlers

came here to join some
other European idiots

around that time.

Yeah, dumb white people

was definitely the
early Lone Moose vibe.

But she could be any
of these smoking '80s babes.

How do I match a
face with a grave?

Well, maybe we
should just give up

and go over to Ham's
big flan menu reveal?

I mean, maybe one of these
gals wasn't as dumb as the others.

Maybe she was actually
a big-city girl from London

and her name was
something like...

Persephogenia Lumpnobble.

And she was an associate
professor of squalor studies

who'd come to do research.

Now, back then,

most of the dumb
European settlers

lived in holes in a big
old mud and poop lake.

Such wonderful squalor.

It's wall-to-wall
squall around here.

They weren't
used to strangers in Lone Moose,

so this beauty stood out
like a ravishing thumb.

And then a squalid but
handsome gentleman

extended his dirty hand to her.

Wa-wa-wee-wa.

Pardon me, ma'am. I can tell

by how little dirt you
have in your teeth

that you're not
from around here.

Might I take you on a tour
of our nasty neighborhood?

This is our pile
of dead animals.

This is our pile of dead people.

And this is our playground.

I have an idea that could
change things for all of you.

It's a reverse hole
above the ground,

and we call it "a house."

And maybe

Persephogenia taught all
the dum-dums about houses

and they stopped
living in holes.

And she was about
to return to London

when the townie did
something super romantic.

Miss Clean Lady, I
want you to have this.

It's a hideous corn
husk doll I made for you.

Ma'am, mightn't we
become betrothed in wedlock

and grow to the ripe
old age of 35 together?

And she said yes.

And then one day they went

to a beaver corpse
baseball game, and...

Aah! - she died.

And because the nasty
Townie never learned her name,

he paid a local child in tobacco

to just chisel "Wife"
on her headstone.

And then, I guess,
everyone forgot about her

and her contributions,
including her friend Veronica.

Oof. Poor

Persephogenia Lumpnobble.

And poor us, 'cause we
still don't have any answers.

But I'm thinking maybe we
should check the old census records

at the historical society.

Wow, I'm excited.
You guys excited?

I'm just kidding. Let's go.

Thanks for wearing the
disguise, Dr. Callahan.

It'll help us get you close
enough to Dad to examine him.

Sure. I mean, I mostly
do this kind of thing for kids

who are scared of the doctor.

And also, pirate meetups,
and once in my private life,

- but I'm happy to help.
- Great.

We really don't
want our dad to die.

I'm not ready to be
the Tobin patriarch yet.

I don't even know
when trash day is.

So, here's the plan:
approach the table,

claim to be a
fellow sea captain...

Which Dad'll love 'cause
he's a real captain hound...

Then give him a long
hug and listen to his heart.

Bada-bing, bada-boom,
you diagnose our dad.

What the...

Hello, boys.

Guess who's all better.

For real this time,
and I am not lying.

Enter, and let us
celebrate your brother's flan.

Our father sucked upon a
pipe and he hath been healed.

Hallelujah.

So, you really feel all better?

Yep. Pardon me
for starting without you,

but I haven't been able to
eat much the past few days.

My fettuccine Alfredo levels
had gotten dangerously low.

So, you have, like, no pain

- at all?
- Nope.

Hello there,
friends. I'm a ship's captain

blowing through town
with me, cargo.

May I give you a hug?

Hello, Dr. Callahan.

Let me guess... my boys
asked you to come down here

and sneakily give me a checkup?

Argh, you caught me.

They're worried about you, Beef.

Actually, Doc,
he feels all better.

Okay, well, there are
some serious conditions

that can come and go,

- namely gall...
- Bup, bup, bup, bup, bup.

This is a restaurant,
not a medicine class.

I'm here celebrate
my son's success

in the Lone Moose
culinary scene.

But the pain in your
back and chest...

Life is a mystery,
and no spoilers, please.

- Beef, but it could be...
- No. You know what?

If you won't leave me alone,
then I'll leave you alone.

I'm gonna snow machine home.

Come along, potato, I shall
be devouring you on the way.

But Dad, my flan! My big day.

I love you, son. Bring
me home a piece.

Stupid doctor doesn't
know what he's talking about.

Nothing wrong with
me. I've never felt better.

Aah! My heart!

Aah! My potato!

Aah!

Can't move.

I'm so sorry, potato.

Maybe

this is something. Says here

there was a log-rolling
competition in 1888,

but only men were
allowed to enter.

That's something I'll never say.

Still, you got to wonder,
what if there was one woman

who did try to enter? Let's
say she married a man

who worked at the mill. And
maybe this lady was gifted

with log-rolling abilities.
See, this wife had been born

on a log in the middle
of the Mighty Mississipp,

and she could spin

that wily wood like she
was hanging a drape.

And she was so
talented, it caught on,

and everybody in Lone
Moose wanted to learn

and be just like her.

It became so popular, they
decided to have a competition.

But wouldn't you know it,
they made a rule that women

couldn't compete,
even though this wife

started the whole damn thing.

So she taught her husband

everything she knew, and he won.

And then people started
saying he taught her to log-roll.

And of course he
took credit for it,

'cause taking
credit for stuff is fun.

Wife decided to prove
herself by getting out there

on the river, and she
was absolutely incredible.

But then, a big wave
washed her out to sea.

And she danced on that log
for months, waiting for help.

And then, sadly,
she got run over

- Aah!
- By the Titanic, and she died.

Man, that Titanic
couldn't do anything right.

And her husband
felt so bad about stealing

her log-thunder,
he couldn't bear

to even see her beautiful
name, so he put "Wife"

on her grave and then
he exploded from grief.

And with him died
the last memory of her,

even though she
was an absolute boss.

That's clearly what
happened. Let's go eat.

Ashes to ashes, dust to
dust, and flan to my mouth.

Dust. Sawdust. The
old Lone Moose Mill.

We should go over there and
check the employee records.

Right. Almost
everyone and their child

worked at the mill
back in the day.

Not me. I was
foreman at the quarry

all through middle school.

Ten cents more an hour and
all the gravel you could eat.

Missing...

ooh, precious...

m-moments.

Dying.

Ooh, ooh, my phone.

Ooh. Must crawl.

No,
no. Decline. Damn it.

No. -
Hey, it's me, Londra.

Okay, so Beef, you're
not gonna believe this.

- Nuh...
- Dusty and I were in Anchorage this morning,

food shopping for
her birthday dinner,

and the Anchorage Food
Otter has watermelons.

No, that's not the crazy part.

We cut the watermelon
open, and inside? A set of keys!

Londra... - My God, Beef,

Dusty found a Bratz
doll in there, too.

I'd love to chat more,

but I got a lot more
people to call. Bye!

Hello, anyone? Am I...

It's you. Hey, Dennis.

You remembered my name.

Yes, it's me. Your heart.

Wassup?

God. If you're here,
you're gonna tell me

something's wrong
with my heart, right?

That's why I've been
having the chest pain?

What? I'm offended.
I'm in incredible shape.

I'm a heart and yet,
somehow, I have abs.

- Wow.
- Yeah, your lifestyle

of constant physical
activity, heavy meats

and relentless stress
keeps me very strong.

Good to know, but
what is wrong with me?

I have been in a lot of pain.

I can't diagnose you.
A doctor should do that.

Which is why I'm here. I
want to know why on Earth

you won't go see a
flipping' doctor, my man.

I... I'm afraid.

'Cause what if it's
something really bad

and then I die and
leave the kids behind?

Wait, what? We die?

Yes, I'll die someday,
and you'll die with me.

What the hell, man? This ends?!

The brain didn't say
anything about that to me.

Sorry. I-I assumed you knew.

No, I did not know.
I'm just a heart, man.

- I can't think on my own.
- Apologies again.

But yeah, that's
what I'm afraid of.

That I'll see the doctor
and he'll say I'm about to die,

and then I'll have
to live a little longer

knowing I'm gonna
leave these amazing kids

and all the weird things they
do that I love so much behind.

Also, trees and rocks and
mountains and Andie MacDowell?

God, there's so much good
stuff here, I don't want to leave.

Well, then, what
are you doing, man?

Go to a doctor now.

- You're right, I should save us.
- Yes.

If I don't do the
thing I'm afraid of

then the thing I'm really
afraid of will happen.

Yes, let's not die.

We have so much
to look forward to.

I have a date with a teacher
from Ohio on Thursday.

- Wait, how?
- Well, I met her...

No time. Good God,
Beef, do something now.

Okay, okay. I will.

Boys! Dr. Callahan!

Is that Dad?

I need help!

Pull back my body
curtain and look inside.

Hi.

We were wondering if you
had employment records

- from the 1880s.
- I'm sorry, the mill has burned down

and been rebuilt since then.

- 47 times.
- Damn it!

Well, Honeybee,

you did all you could.

Maybe it's just time to
let a sleeping corpse lie.

No, we can't give up.

Why is this bothering
you so much?

I just... I mean,
what if this lady

came all the way from Fresno?

You know, 'cause she fell
in love with a guy she met

in an 1800s Morse code
chat room or, something,

and it seemed like a good
idea but then she... she just died.

And then everybody
forgot who she was.

- The end.
- Okay, Honeybee, wait,

you don't think you're
like this dead lady, do you?

Maybe. My
dumb friend Veronica

said I gave up my life and
followed a guy to Alaska.

Am I just a wife?

Honeybee, come on.

You're already a
legend in Lone Moose.

You've been mayor, you
got attacked by an eagle,

you got in a slap
fight with a drifter.

If anything, Wolf should
be afraid he's gonna end up

in a grave just
marked "Husband."

And you should make
sure he does, as a goof.

Poor Wife. I guess
the least we can do

is lay some flowers
on her grave.

And a pepperoni pizza.

I mean, sure?

Have you had a
pepperoni pizza before?

They're amazing.
It's a beautiful gesture.

There you go, Wife.
Enjoy your pizza.

Wait, what's that?

"Bartholomew Wife"?

Hold up. "Wife" is a last name?

"Manifred Wife,
pronounced, 'Wee-Fay, '

"was also known as
Manifred the Maniac.

"Manifred Wife was
a prolific murderer

who killed 17 people including
her husband Bartholomew."

- Whoa.
- So, she wasn't just a wife.

Good for you.

My gallbladder?

Yep. You got some pretty
sizable stones in there.

Hell yeah he does.

Dad's 'blad makes
some sick stones.

The pain can come
and go with eating,

but we'll remove it today
and you're as free as a bird.

I have my Lil Preppers
surgery badge, Doc.

I can scrub in if needed.

Won't be necessary
for this one, Moon.

But I do have a spinal
surgery on Thursday

I wouldn't mind a consult on.

I'll have to move some
things around, but I'm in.

Dad, we're real proud of
you for finally asking for help

from a doctor who
isn't a pipe on a hill.

And, maybe you
could, do it again...

The seeing a doctor thing...
'cause of how we want you

to be alive?

- Sorry to be pushy.
- No, Ham, you're right.

I promise, from now on,
I'll get an annual physical,

every five to six years or so.

That's a start.

Vaya con dad-os, gallbladder.

You're gonna be all right.

What the hell?

You all have
gravestones already?

Yes, a few years
ago, I got a deal

on some granite and,
well, one thing led to another.

Speaking of which... Honeybee,
a little bird named Judy told me

that you were kind of worried
about ending up like old Wife,

which inspired me to
get you this stone stunner.

You picked a death year?

You'll be 220 years
old, so it's cool.

And it also has all kinds
of facts about you on it,

like that you're a
Shrek-thusiast, an entrepreneur.

Plus, lots of space to add
anything else as it comes along.

Like if you suddenly get
super into Dave Matthews Band.

Wolf, this is deeply unsettling.

But also kind of
touching, I guess.

All right, enough grave-gazing.

Let's head in for dinner.
Now that my G-blad is out,

fatty foods are my friend again,

and I made my famous
five-butters casserole.

Dibs on a corner piece.

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