American Gods (2017–…): Season 1, Episode 8 - Come to Jesus - full transcript

Do you know who he is?

Who he really is?

Shadow Moon.

You're my man now.

You've gotten yourself mixed up

in some really weird
shit, Shadow.

- You shouldn't trust him.
- Grimnir. Don't trust him.

Trying to start a war,
Glad-O-War?

We're at war already,
and we're losing.

Who are you?

You wouldn't believe me
if I told you.



What should I believe?

- What's today?
- Wednesday.

Today is my day.

This is all too big.

Too much going on at once.

We should start with a story.

- Aw, Jesus, Nancy.
- I'm gonna tell you a story.

Haven't got time for a story.

Just do the fucking work, huh?

Let me tell a goddamned story!

I got a good one.

Real good...

Once upon a time...

See? It sounds good already.



You're hooked.

Just get on with it, huh?

Once upon a time...

there was a fucking queen.

She had it all:

the glory, the power.

Worshippers eager to give
and grateful to receive.

Why?

Because she had
the gift of the gift.

The blessing of blessings,
hers to bestow.

And her place of worship?

Oh, that was the place to be.

That was the goddamn shit.

It was good fucking times.

Kings didn't like that.

Kings came one after the other

to knock her off her throne.

They didn't last long.

When the queen
was done with you...

you were gone.

Worse ways to go...

Clothes and hair
change with the times,

but this queen, ha ha,
she kept the party going.

But the kings,

they kept coming after her.

Our queen's power...

which is the power of all women,

the power of rebirth,
and creation...

it makes some men kneel in awe

and give gifts.

But it makes other men angry.

And you know it:

Anger gets shit done.

So men did what they do:

they took from her that power.

Took 'em a long time.

Took them guns and knives

and sharp dicks.

But they grabbed the power

they were too scared
for a queen to have.

They laundered it
and gave it to men.

They forced our queen

into the back seat.

The remaining flight time
to New York's

John F. Kennedy airport
is 11 hours.

So sit back, relax,
and enjoy the flight.

- Thank you.
- Where is the library?

Where is the library?

Where is the library?

Now our queen, she made
her peace with change.

She told herself the back
seat's got cushions, too.

She told herself she was
playing the game

by staying in it.

Excuse me.

Do you know where
the bathroom is?

There's one in the back.

I don't see it.

Show me.

Oh. Where did
30F run off to?

So long as I'm still alive,

I can adapt.

So you can let everyone back
home know where you're going.

I still know what I am.

But America, too, can take
issue with a woman of power.

It finds ways of
cutting her down.

Of punishing her for
her daring to be.

And our girl, after a while,

even she forgot
there's a queen inside.

ISIS fighters destroyed
the ancient temple,

a once popular
tourist attraction

recently denounced
by ISIS militants

as quote, the necessary
destruction

of idolatrous structures

in accordance with Islamic law.

And there is no end
to the cruelty of men

threatened by strong women.

So what's a queen to do?

She gets on her knees.

She takes what
she don't want to,

and we watch in easy
fucking judgment

and pretend we'd do
a single thing different

in her shoes.

Hmm.

I hear they blew up your altar.

Darn.

I have a new one to offer you.

Aren't you the lucky duck?

Oh!

Boop.

Okay.

Worship is a volume business.

Whosoever has the most followers

wins the game.

Wanna play?

Life is long when
you got regret.

A moment can last forever

when you can see how
it should have gone.

You get the moral to this story?

I don't know.
Don't compromise?

Or, uh...

don't cut deals with
treacherous motherfuckers.

What? No! Fuck no!

Did you get this one
off the discount rack?

Where are you getting in life
without some fucking compromise?

The moral is...

- Get myself a queen.
- You goddamn right.

You better get yourself a queen.

'Cause you just went
and killed one of theirs.

That's one of mine.
I killed one of mine.

Not anymore.

Not in a long while

has he been one of yours.

You separate a head from a body,

that is strike fucking one
across the bow.

They all ain't going to
take that lightly.

Good. Wait 'til
he sees strike two,

when I get myself that queen.

What about you?

Spill blood together, that
binds you to him for life.

Yeah, the fuck it does.

Fuck it doesn't.

Now, we have a compact.

Yeah, up to which point
you piss me off.

And you've just gone and
pissed me off, okay?

So I think that just violates
the terms of our agreement.

What are you so
pissed off about?

You just cut off
your friend's head.

Okay, now you're just going
to go and get a suit made

like you're the
goddamn Godfather?

Who the fuck did
you think he was?

You're getting one, too.

We have to be presentable,
where we're going.

Fuck you!

Okay, I don't even
know your name.

Hey, Mr. Wednesday?

Who I met on a Wednesday?

I don't think you understand
the concept of pissed off.

It's angry.

Oh, I know what pissed off is.

I'm pissed off, so
as a pissed off person,

I'm aware.

You're confused.
You got a lot of questions,

but you don't know how
to ask them.

Do not confuse confusion
for anger.

I'm not confused.

I'm very confused.

You're confused.
And you're intrigued.

Your wife came back from the
dead, why wouldn't you be?

If you said you weren't,
I'd call you a liar.

A bigger one than I am.

Ha! And that's
a very big liar.

Mm-hmm.

The terms of our
agreement are intact.

You're not angry, Shadow.

But you do have to
start getting angry.

Angry...

gets shit done.

Try that on for size.

Jeez...

Is this Wisconsin?

That's our next stop.

Welcome to Kentucky.

Now be nice to
the lady we're visiting,

but not too nice.

She might take a fancy to you,
and that would not be good.

Why?

She an ex-girlfriend
of yours?

Not for all the little
plastic toys in China.

No, she's...

She's something else.

We might not be
welcome at first.

In the presence of a queen.

Heh, forgot it was Easter.

Well, it is Sunday,
16th of April,

seven days after
the vernal equinox.

I love Easter.

Oh, many do.

Some for the rabbits,
some for the resurrection.

Most think of the food.

All that fucking sugar, huh?

They don't think of
the truth of the day.

And why would they?

Well, yeah, you could...
you could call this Easter.

Or we could call it
what it really is:

a pagan ritual, the celebration
of the beginning of spring

dating back about 12,000 years.

So, when you see
children dipping eggs

in vinegar the colors
of their favorite toys,

or when you see
the nation's youth

fleeing south for copulation,

or when they spread their seed
over that sinking mass

that is the great
state of Florida,

they all...

without realizing it
do it in her name.

Ostara.

Hello!

Oh, it is a treasure and a treat

to welcome you all to my home

and on my day, my favorite
day of the year.

When all is lavender and dew,

reborn and restored.

When we celebrate the earth...

Hello, Shadow.

Hey.

Do I know you?

Yes, you do.

And then we move on.

I think it's important
for us all to remember

what this day is
really truly about.

Which is...

Oh, for Christ's sake.

Praise the Lords,
please help yourself

and those less fortunate
to the buffet.

I got plenty of honey ham.

But for those of you that
do not partake of pork...

That's Easter?

Because people
believe in Easter.

Believing is seeing.

Gods are real if
you believe in them.

Gods.

Uh-huh.

Fuck me.

All right, so...

Hmm?

That's Jesus Christ.

A Jesus Christ.

Some Jesus Christ.

For every belief, every branch,
every denomination

they see a different face when
they close their eyes to pray.

So who are you?

Like I said, you wouldn't
believe in me if I told you.

Happy Easter, you old fraud.

And a fair Ostara to you.

What the hell are
you doing here?

I'm not here for Christ's sake,
I'm here for all our sakes.

You look divine.

How the hell else should I look?

Say hello to Ostara.

Hey, Ostara.

Oh, he's a blusher.

Wednesday, you brought
me a blusher.

Mm-hmm.

And he's pink chocolate.
How perfectly wonderful.

What's he called?

Shadow Moon.

So...

How's tricks?

Asks the tricksiest
rabbit I know.

Well, I was hoping to
enlist your assistance.

Stop wasting time.

I can't be bothered, so don't
you go bothering me about it.

Shadow?
That's a sweet name.

Now, now, now, now.
Leave him be. Hmm?

Why do they call you
Shadow, sweetness?

The way I follow my mama around.

She didn't know what
else to call me.

Well, I deal in sugar, Sugar,

and you're the sweetest damn
thing I've ever seen.

This is the boy that
has everyone so upset?

Aye, you heard?

Well, I keep my ears pricked up.

Come here, sweet Shadow.

Allow me to impart some wisdom:

there's far too many
secret societies out there.

They have no loyalty
and no love.

They range from barely competent

to deeply dangerous.

You don't sound like one of us.

I'm not one of you.

Oh, yes you are.

You're as forgotten,
and as unloved

and as unremembered
as any of us.

I'm doing just fine.
Happy Easter.

Christ is risen.
Hello, boys.

Well, you were before
these assholes were born.

Until the day that Jesus Christ

crawled out of his
stinky old grave,

folks would paint eggs
with dandelions and paprika.

For her to exchange as gifts

at the first sign of spring
in her name.

Ostara.

Oh, they still do.
They still do.

On my festival days, they
still feast on eggs and rabbit

and candy and they
do it in my name.

Serious question, my dear.

I have no doubt that
millions upon millions

exchange tokens and observe
the rituals of your festival,

all down to the hunting
of the hidden eggs,

but does anybody
pray in your name?

Do they say it in worship?

Oh, they mouth your name,

hmm, but they have
no idea what it means.

None whatsoever.
Same every spring.

You do all the work,
he gets all the prayers.

What has gotten into you?

I feel terrible about this.

No. No!

It's her day.
You took it.

You crucified her day.

When they started following you,

everybody else got burned.

In your name.
Happy fucking Easter.

Uh...

No...

A word.

Mm-hmm.

You shut your mouth before I
slap it off your goddamn face.

Oh... oh.

How dare you.

How dare you...

How dare you come into my home

and uncork all over
Jesus of Nazareth,

and all the other Jesuses
who died on the cross,

and even the ones who didn't?
How dare you!

These are kind, generous men

and they've come
to celebrate their day.

My day.

God damn it, our day!

And you come in here
and disrespect them?

They are gods, for God's sake!

They're sons of. They're
men who walk the streets.

They shake hands,
they take shits.

Oh...

What I'm doing here is
of no concern to them.

This is your day, love.

Always has been, always will be.

Just don't try to tell me
that they all worship you.

I know they don't.
I'm not a fool.

No, you're not.

I am.

An old one.

They killed Vulcan.

They killed my friend.

He pledged his allegiance to me,

and forged a blade

in my honor.

And they killed him for it.

The new gods.

That's why we need you.

That's why we need
spring to fight them,

to show them who we are.

Oh, they will worship you.

They will... worship you
if you make them pray.

They'll pray to Him.

But he's not
the goddess of spring.

Shadow, my boy, I need a word
with the fair lady here alone.

Help yourself to a drink,
two, tops.

Still need you sharp.

You've been avoiding me.

My mistake.

I used the phone.

Worst thing you can do
to someone is call them.

I've been occupied.

Yes, you have.

Impressive reach metrics.
Deep penetration.

Total unique impressions
is what sells

and no-one
leaves an impression

more unique than you.

You've done well with me.

Very well.

Now...

It's my turn to do well by you.

I can take care of you.

Hmm.

Hands free, honeypot.

I have no intention of
spending the rest of my days

feeding your soul
from the vagina nebula.

But...

if you point that gun
in the right direction...

Hmm.

You're wishing you had
no business with me.

But you do.

You owe.

I'm calling it in.

Is this it?

How'd you find it?

Shadow's here.

Jesus Christ.

Are they all... Jesuses?

Right, of course, 'cause...

Jesus is real.
Hmm.

God damn it.

Hmm.

Did you always believe?

Did I always believe?

I am belief, Shadow.

I don't know how not to believe.

I don't think I know how to.

And I think maybe I...

I don't really believe.

You know, I don't really
believe any of this.

And maybe everything
that's happened so far

is just some kind
of vivid dream.

And...

I don't even know if
I can believe that.

Even if you don't believe,

you cannot travel
in any other way than the road

your senses show you.

And you must walk that road

to the end.

Starve them into submission?

They used to starve themselves.

40 days, but not out of worship,

but out of necessity.

Hunger was an ancient
form of prayer,

and they've never been hungry.

I mean, they just pluck
their food out of the freezer,

throw it in the microwave,
watch it spin around.

Never once have they
had to work for it,

give thanks for it,
or pray to you for it.

Make them pray.

Let them remind themselves
it was a queen

that gave them the harvest.

Oh, they'll be hungry but
then they'll turn to you,

and they will pray
to Ostara once again.

She withholds, she returns.

Prayer, reward.

The ancient contract.

Holy shit.

Hold that thought.

Come on.

Oh...

A dead girl?

I have a house full of guests
and a garage full of caterers

and you brought me a dead girl?

Hi.

- You have a lovely home.
- Don't stoop.

Somebody tried to raise you
with refined manners,

dead girl, and failed.

Let me see you.

She doesn't want to be dead.

Dead gets a bad rap.

I don't want her to be dead.

Reason being?

Selfish reasons.

Can you do that?

Professional courtesy.

Colleague to colleague?

You all think I'm like you.
I am not like you.

You, I'm particularly not like.

And that doesn't translate into courtesies
owed, professional or otherwise.

A favor, then.

You do owe me that.

Who were you, exactly?

I was, uh, Laura Moon.

Um, I'm still Laura Moon.

Laura Moon.

Shadow Moon?

Mmm, we know he's here.

We know who he's here with.

Best he doesn't know I'm here.

Best he don't know
who I'm here with.

How do you feel?

I don't mean existentially,
I mean physically.

Sensationally.

Are you in your body,
but not of it?

I'm in my body.
I feel it.

Death hurts.

I mean, mostly that hurt
is just absences of things.

I'm thirsty all the time.

Fuckin' parched.

And... cold.

Cold in my bones.

Livin' in her own apocalypse.

Did, um... did Jesus
go through his own apocalypse

before you brought
him back to life?

Oh, I didn't bring
Jesus back to life, no.

He was dreamed back
to life on my day.

A very narrow sliver
in that Venn diagram.

This is your day.

The vernal equinox,
the light of the world.

Rebirth, renewal,

resurrection, can you do it?

I can, I have.
I normally wouldn't.

But today isn't a
normally kind of day.

I don't resurrect, I relife.

Life has always been my gift.

To re-gift.

Well, good.

Good, because...

as it turns out, I actually
have a lot to live for,

and it's so close I can feel it.

It's the only thing
I can feel, so...

I would really like to
not be dead anymore

so that I can feel it fully.

So...

How does this work?

How it works is I find out
exactly why you are dead

and we go from there.

Well, I don't know
why this happened.

I mean, I know how, but...

I don't know why.

Come.

Let me take a look.

Ahh.

I'm starting to get an idea.

Folks have always been curious

about that exact
moment of death.

As if the difference
between one side

of that divide and the other

could be quantified.

Some believe that
you can develop

a last image seen
off their retinas.

Like a photograph.

Death is usually the last enemy.

Right but not for, uh...
not for Jesus Christ.

Oh, not for you.

And you're no Jesus Christ.

Are you still
working for the man?

I was.

About that, we
have a problem here.

A...

A problem with me?

Oh, no.
Not with you, you.

You are perfectly lovely,

but you dead, yes,
is a problem for me.

Well, no, but you said that you could
re-gift the gift, I need the gift.

I need to be alive.

I can't help you with your dead.

You are dead of
a different kind.

Fuck.

How am I dead different?

Laura Moon, you were
killed by a god.

I can't interfere with that.

That is a dead without undoing.

Not by my hand, anyway.

Oh, shit.

I have other guests.

Good luck.

I was killed...

by a god?

Which... fucking... god?

Never saw you look quite
so pretty before.

Happy Easter, Easter.

Oh.
And to you.

I could hardly wait
to keep our date

this lovely Easter morning.

And your heart beat fast as
you came through that door.

Um...

We had a date?

Standing.

- Our Marshmallow Peep show.
- Oh.

Candy cream eggs,
cellophane grass,

bunnies and duckies,
we popularized the pagan.

We practically invented brunch.

We built this holiday.

You and me.

We're a couple of swells.

Oh, have you met my sheep?

Your sheep?

Which fucking god?

Me fucking god.
I ran you off the road.

See, here I thought I knocked
the gear shift with my shoulder.

All this time,
I've been blaming myself.

I guess now I have somebody
else to blame, right?

Ahh!

That's right, I killed you!

I killed you fucking dead!

No!

You are not a god!

She said that I was
killed by a god.

You are a lot of things,
but you are not a god.

Which fucking god?

I will squeeze them
straight out of the sac.

It'll be kind of like
shucking peas.

I swear to Jesus.

He's right outside.

Ah...

You know which god.

Of course I know which god.

I want to hear you
fucking say it,

so say it.

Wednesday.

Hmm.

Fuck that guy.

Why?

Why me?

Why murder me?

You weren't murdered,
you were sacrificed.

Shadow, right?

So why does Shadow matter?

He doesn't!

He's nothing.

He's no-one who just...

Just happens to be the guy.

When we robbed the casino,

did Wednesday fuck up
my perfect plan?

It wasn't a perfect plan.

Didn't account for divine
intervention, did you?

The whole fucking time,

the robbery,
Shadow going to jail,

me dying, act of god?

Just fucking with us
to fuck with us?

What do you think gods do?

They do what
they've always done:

they fuck with us.

They fuck with all of us.

Just don't take it personally.

I don't.

He needed your man.

Needed him to be in a place where
he had nothing left in the world.

Nothing to lose, 'cause...

he already lost everything.

What does Wednesday
have to lose?

They're here.

Is he here?

Is who here?

Oh, He with a capital H?

I've got a gaggle
of them inside.

One of them's got
a baby dinosaur.

That's not the "he"
I was referring to.

The "he" I was referring
to was Wednesday.

Oh, he was here,

trying to enlist me in
some sort of something

he was brewing.

What are the ingredients
of that brew?

I dismissed him before
hearing him out.

I'm doing peachy.

So why would I help him?

That's right, a god
has to be exotic.

She has to be...

a peach.

And Wednesday, well,

I suppose he's a lemon.

You're an old god new again.

That's what we offer.

That's what we represent.

You feel you've been
treated unfairly?

I feel misrepresented
in the media.

Put a pillow over that feeling

and bear down until
it stops kicking.

St. Nick took
the same deal you did.

The only reason why
you're relevant today

is because Easter is
a Christian holiday.

Ha.

It's religious Darwinism.

Adapt and survive.

What we have achieved
together, you and I,

is no small feat.

Now that we're living
in an atheist world.

Look at you.

Squawk the squawk.

In your Easter bonnet
with all the frills upon it,

you should be thrilled,

overjoyed that anyone
believes in anything

that doesn't have
a screen anymore.

What happens

if they all decide
that God doesn't exist?

What if they decide
God does exist?

Whose god?

They're not all going
to choose just one.

Well, it doesn't matter.

Plenty of worship to go around
once worship gets redistributed.

We are the distributors.

The platform and
the delivery mechanism.

We control the story.

We control the flow.

We are the flow.

What you offer is
existential crisis aversion.

Don't look over there,
look over here.

Don't listen to that,
listen to this.

You provide a product,
an innovative distraction

and you keep innovating it and
you keep providing it.

The beauty of what we do is

we only need inspire.

Hmm.
You don't have the juice.

And don't act like your
fucking rent boy here

is your disciple.
Here's the thing:

you're old as fuck.

Things are never going back

to the way that they were.

The times, they are a changing.

You can't fight progress.

Then why are you here?

Why do I matter?

We're here for her.

We're here for my friend.

And you don't matter.

Not really.
Not anymore.

You could have, but...

People create gods when
they wonder why things happen.

Do you know why things happen?
Because gods make them happen.

You want to know how to
make good things happen?

Be good to your god.

You give a little,
you get a little.

The simplicity of that bargain

has always been appealing.

That's why you're here

and that's precisely
why I matter.

You only matter
in matters of war.

And there's not going
to be a war.

We have the guns.

We have the firepower.

You have the swords and knives

and hammers and stone axes.

We fight, we win.

We don't fight, we win.

You die out either way.

You are the passenger pigeons

and thylacines.

Nobody cares about you.

It's either going
to be a bloodbath,

or we'll wait you out
and get the whole thing

without a fuss.

Don't fight.

I don't have to fight.

I have faith.

I dedicate these deaths
to Ostara.

Which deaths?

Do you have faith, Shadow?

What are you?

Do you know me?

Do you know what I am?

Do you want to know my name?

Tell me.

This is what I am called.

I am called Glad-O-War,
Grim, Raider, and Third.

I am One-eyed.
I am also called Highest,

and True-Guesser.

I am Grimnir,
and the Hooded One.

I am All-Father, Gondlir,
Wand-bearer.

I have as many names
as there are winds.

As many titles as there
are ways to die.

My ravens are Huginn and Muninn.

Thought and Memory.

My wolves are Freki and Geri.

My horse is the gallowed.

I am Odin!

Odin...

Odin, and you are
Ostara of the Dawn.

Show them who you are.

What have you done?

You wanted a war,
Glad-of-War?

You have one.

Be glad.

It will be the war you die in.

Tell the believers
and the non-believers:

tell them we've taken
the spring.

They can have it back
when they pray for it.

Do you believe?

I believe.

What do you believe, Shadow?

Everything.

I'd like to have a word
with my husband.

Excuse me.

Do you know where
the bathroom is?

But you kept me in the dark.

Worshipping, loving,
living, dying.

Watching, waiting,
burning so bright.

You kept me in the dark.