Another Period (2013–…): Season 1, Episode 3 - Funeral - full transcript
Now that Lillian and Beatrice have paid Victor and Albert off $2 million to pretend to be dead, they have to hold the mock funeral which will be populated by potential wealthy replacement husbands, in Beatrice's case some that hopefully resemble a certain twin brother. But Victor and Albert presumably being dead has an impact on others. Frederick doesn't know if he can do it with Beatrice anymore with the ghost of Albert hovering over him. Chair is assigned the responsibility of telling the children that their fathers are dead. And Victor and Albert themselves, in what should be the bliss of their cabin hideout alone together, can't seem to behave like a loving couple without the presence of their wives. Meanwhile, Peepers receives a visit from his older "brother", who has to get Peepers to attend another funeral, that is if Dodo will allow him an afternoon off.
How was that?
Very convincing.
Now me.
- Maybe you're the stoic one.
- Mm.
Today's a wonderful day.
Our husbands are finally dead.
Well, they're not dead.
We just paid them to disappear
so that we could
pursue higher-born,
more upwardly mobile husbands
that are more like our...
- Equals.
- Brothers.
Usually it takes seven years
for the missing
to be declared dead,
but Daddy pulled some strings.
_
More calling cards,
all sending their condolences.
Oil baron, robber baron,
rubber baron,
bacon baron.
So many barons.
I mean, Jesus,
is there any downside
to dead husbands?
I wish they were dead
when we married them.
It's so sad.
Cutie, Daddy's dead.
♪ I want the
money, I want the fame ♪
♪ I want the whole world
to know my name ♪
♪ this is mine,
I got to get it ♪
♪ I got to get it,
got, got to get it ♪
♪ Another Period ♪
Mitchell P. Spiritwalker,
the whole family has
traveled a great distance
through many storms
and with much difficulty
to see you again,
younger brother.
On behalf of all of us,
I say hello.
Wrong door.
_
Ashinabee Langundo.
Ashinabee Mitch...
or Peepers, as your new tribe
calls you.
Why have you come?
The Bellacourts do not know
of my heritage,
and I wish to keep it that way.
Our father has died.
Ooh.
We have come to conduct
a condolence ceremony.
Oldest and youngest brother
united in mourning.
We must do it today.
Langundo, I don't have time
for this today.
I have an escargot-spoon
situation that--
Mitch, if we do not complete
this ceremony by sundown,
Father's soul will be trapped
between two worlds,
never to find peace.
And your aunt needs
to use the restroom.
Yes, I was raised as an Indian.
My parents were white alcoholics
who abandoned me
during the Gold Rush
on the way to California.
A tribe took me in
and raised me as their own.
But during my vision quest,
I saw an image
of a white butler,
and I knew then
that I had found my path.
Can't you make
my neckline lower?
My husband's dead,
not my teats.
Madams...
Forgive me, but I must ask
the most difficult question
of my entire
25 years of service.
May I have the afternoon off?
It is an emergency.
No.
It would only be
for a few hours,
and I won't leave the premises.
- No.
- I hate to ask, but...
my father died,
and we're holding a funeral.
Wait.
You have a father?
Yes, Lady Beatrice.
Do you know
how you have relatives?
Mm-hmm.
I, too, have relatives.
Oh.
Does that mean
cows have funerals?
No, only people.
And servants?
Yes, also servants.
Lady, I hate
to press the issue,
but we must hold the funeral,
or his soul cannot
ascend to Heaven.
You can't have your funeral
the same day we're
having our funeral.
Today is the day I'm gonna meet
the thick-dicked man
of my dreams.
Yeah, stop copying us, Peepers.
I assure you,
it was unintentional.
It's fine.
Go have your fun,
your little funeral.
But don't let it
interfere with your duties.
Thank you, ma'am.
♪ I just want the money, money
I just want the money ♪
Aha, this is our
moment we've been waiting for.
Oh, we can do anything we want.
What do you want to do first?
Uh, oh, we could eat something.
- Are you hungry?
- I could eat if you could.
What do you want to eat?
I don't know.
Quail, rabbit?
Nah.
How about mincemeat pie?
Well, we're not destitute.
I mean...
mincemeat pie?
I could do Bananas Foster.
Well, that's a dessert.
I'm not gonna--
- Well, what do you want to eat?
- I can eat anything.
You cannot eat anything,
or you wouldn't have dismissed
every idea I gave you.
Well, I'm not saying
that your ideas are bad,
but maybe you could
choose something
that's a little more
appropriate.
Why don't you just cool down?
And I'll start cooking something
that I hope you'll like.
All right, just make sure
it's not grouse.
Langundo, you'll have to
remind me of the ceremony.
Of course you don't remember
now that you are a big shot
with a door that locks.
Only from the outside.
Brother Mitchell,
can I try on
your tuxedo jacket?
No, Little One.
You know, many people find it
very offensive
when you adopt the garb
of another culture.
No, this is not a costume.
It is a way of life.
We should get started
if we are going to finish
the six-hour fire ceremony
before sundown.
Do you think we could
compress it
down to about 15 minutes?
There is a lot of unnecessary
fire in that ceremony.
Haaa!
Oh, my darling.
I'm so sorry to hear
about poor Albert.
How are you holding up?
- I'm sad.
- Yeah.
Now rip off my morning dress
and make love to me.
It's what Albert
would have wanted.
Nothing would make me happier
than falling face-first
into your mossy treasure,
but...
what if Albert's a ghost?
What if he's watching us?
No, silly, Albert's alive.
He's in a secret cabin
surrounded
by a beautiful garden,
living with Victor.
He's in a better place.
Poor simple Beatrice.
Of course he's alive,
enjoying the company
of male friends.
Of course.
Of course.
Oh, Chair.
Oh, are you busy?
Just working
17 to 22 hours a day.
I'll take that
as a "no."
Would you be a dear
and put the children to bed?
Oh, and would you mind
telling them
that their fathers are dead?
- Me?
- Is that a problem?
- I--
- Uh-uh-uh, Chair.
Don't make me rename you
Water Closet.
Love you.
_
Everyone's coming
to my funeral.
The press is coming,
eligible men are coming--
all the more reason to make this
the party of the century.
Thank you for coming.
Very cute.
Could you be
any more tasteless?
Ooh, been watching you
devour the buffet.
You might want to
taste less yourself.
Your husband has been dead
for three days.
You should be asha--
Oh, my God!
Is that Mark Twain?
Oh, he's a river boat baron,
I believe.
He's the greatest writer
of our time, you imbecile.
Old Man River.
And that's why I don't read.
Mr. Twain,
it's an honor.
I love your work.
Ah, well, thank you,
huge woman.
I'm Hortense.
Yeah, that feels right.
Now, what does a man
have to do around here
to get a drink?
I'm sweating as much
as a frog on jumping day
trying to outleap a cat.
I'm sorry.
Albert, I'm sorry.
Oh!
You scared me half to death.
Oh, I'm sorry.
No, he's watching.
I know it.
Look what you did, Albert!
I hate you!
- My doll!
- My doll!
Children...
- My doll!
- This is my doll!
Please stop.
Hey, lady, fetch.
First of all, I'm the one
who has to break the news to
Lillian and Beatrice's children?
And second of all,
they have children?
My name is Chair.
- What's yours?
- I'm Susan.
I'm also Susan.
What's a name?
My mom calls me
The Little Asshole.
The life-or-death bell.
I'm sorry.
I must take this.
I'm sure we can recover
his spirit on your schedule.
Don't worry about us.
Great.
Mr. Hal Carnegie.
I'm Lillian,
rhymes with "billion,"
as in the amount
of dollars you have.
Thanks for coming
on such short notice.
Oh, speaking of
"short, no tits,"
look what we have here.
I see it's true what they say
about your wit
and sharp tongue.
I am just trying
to lighten the mood.
Sorry to be so crass.
Oh, that's all right.
I literally have no
behavioral standards at all.
Well, then you won't mind
if we do a little
heavy flirting
here at your husband's funeral.
Not at all.
Oh, and just so you know,
I do have eight children,
but they've all been
ripped from my stomach, so...
tight as a Jew's wallet
down there.
Mm, I wouldn't mind
making a deposit.
Ooh.
Madam, you rang
the life-or-death bell.
Oh. Oh, I thought I rang
the "more custard" bell.
You wouldn't happen
to have more custard,
would you, Peepers?
A good butler always
has extra custard, madam.
Ooh!
Oh, well, I have to do
this little eulogy thing,
but, uh, let's, uh,
pick up later.
Yes, good luck.
I have some very bad news
that I must tell you.
Your fathers are dead.
No!
Peepers!
I will miss him so!
No, no, Peepers
isn't your father.
Oh, is it Blanche, then?
Blanche is a woman.
Jesus.
- No, she's not.
- Yes, she is.
Why are these children
still awake?
Here you go.
It's quieting syrup.
Thank God.
Some Chinese herb?
No, of course not.
It's morphine.
Morphine?
Just a quick announcement.
To the owner
of the 1901 Renault,
license plate F,
your headlamps are illuminated.
Poppycock.
I could give a better speech
than that.
Welcome, everyone,
to the funeral
of Victor Schmemmerhorn-Fish V.
Also featuring Albert.
Victor would not want
to be remembered
for the way that he lived,
but for the way that he died.
Victor's boat was on its way
to the Isle of Argentine,
when suddenly
it was struck by lightning,
torn apart by enormous,
thrashing waves.
Who cares?
I don't.
Victor's partially burned--
partially burned,
half-drowned body
was then feasted upon
by swarms of sharks
who devoured their prey first
by eating his face,
and then by devouring
every one of his appendages--
arms, legs...
even that one.
So, for dinner,
you decided to make dessert.
You didn't want grouse.
You didn't want quail.
You didn't want rabbit.
You didn't want mincemeat pie.
So I made a cobbler.
But it's fine.
I don't know how many times
I have to tell you
I am grouse-intolerant.
Maybe you're just
Albert-intolerant.
I'm sorry you don't like
my cobbler.
I'm sorry I'm a horrible cook.
You're not a horrible cook.
I'm sorry I have no idea
what to do in the kitchen.
- Don't become a victim.
- Okay, I'm not the victim.
- Fine.
- Okay, yes.
- I can agree too.
- I'm happy.
I'm agreeing with you, yes.
Whatever you say.
I'm gonna eat,
'cause I'm actually hungry.
Oh, would you like mine?
You can have mine.
Why don't you just put on
a few more pounds?
So, after the sharks
had their way
with his pulpy, hollow limbs,
Victor's carcass
made its way to the seafloor,
only to be seized
by flesh-eating mollusks
who devoured him and left
nothing but his saddle shoes.
And that's how you tell
a eulogy, friends.
And now, just as the sea
washed the blood
out of my husband's eyeballs,
let her wash
the tears out of yours--
Beatrice Tiffani
Amberthiessen Downsey!
This eulogy is for Albert.
Is this really happening?
Listen, my yacht is stocked
and headed to New Guinea.
We depart tonight.
Say you'll join me.
- New Guinea.
- Mm.
- I do love cannibals.
- Mm.
"And then the mermaid
died a brutal, bloody death.
The end."
Can I have
some more vapor drug?
I think you've really
got a problem.
There you are.
So this is the upstairs, huh?
Not too shabby.
I kind of want to shit
on all the pillows.
Look, I sent for you
because I need your help.
Oh, man, I think I'm gonna
yank myself
into a sock right now.
Are you gonna help me or not?
I'm here, ain't I?
I gave these kids
quieting syrup,
and this one won't fall asleep.
I built up my tolerance.
Oh, bet he doesn't have
a tolerance to this, huh?
What is wrong with you?
I'm sorry.
I misread your signals.
I don't want him murdered.
I want him to go to sleep.
Well, then why did
you ask for me, huh?
- That's what I do.
- I don't know.
I'll kill all these kids.
Wait.
Where did he go?
Maybe he went to
Who Gives a Shit Land.
No, where did he go?
I don't know.
Want to fuck
on this pile of kids?
I don't think it's
gonna happen tonight.
I don't think it's going
to happen for me either.
It might help if you apologize.
Okay, fine.
I'm sorry that you behaved
in such a way
that got me so upset
that now I'm flaccid at best.
I can tell
that your apologizing
is not, in fact, an apology.
And I'll have you know
I'm flaccid too.
I mean, maybe this
isn't working.
I feel like ever since
we left the manor,
all the exciting parts
of our love are just gone.
Maybe we should go home.
And give back the $2 million?
What good is $2 million
if we can't pound each other?
I'll ready our luggage.
You need to get dressed.
- I need to finish myself.
- No, just get dressed.
Let me just do
one time through.
- It'll take 45 minutes.
- No.
Oh, Great Spirit,
life fades like the sunset.
We ask that his spirit
come to you without shape.
I have to get that.
Are you serious?
Look, I want our father
to join with the Great Spirit,
but that's
the life-or-death bell, man.
There's life-or-death
going on up there!
Plus I'm in charge
of the Jell-O.
Madam, what was
the life-or-death emergency
this time?
Can't you see
I'm grieving, Peepers?
This is ridiculous.
Where is Mitch?
We need him here to recite
the final incantation.
Let's go find him.
Tom Sawyer was based
on my boyhood lover.
Yep.
Look it up.
Yes, Victor, if I remember,
it wasn't just a pork stew.
It was more than a pork stew.
What the shit on hell
of all shits is this?
Is this a... funeral?
For us?
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
We've been gone three days!
Why is my picture
so much smaller?
No, no, no, no, no.
I told you to stay downstairs.
No, it can't be.
You've violated our treaty.
Ghosts, ghosts!
Ghosts!
Is that my dad?
Ah!
No!
My Albert!
No!
My party!
No, my tomahawk!
These people are savages.
Oh, no, no, don't go.
Uh, we're about to start
the black-person
caricature contest.
Hey, butterscotch...
send me a telegram
when your husband really dies.
Shh.
It's not your fault.
It was an accident.
Albert will be fine.
So he's not a ghost.
No, he's alive.
Oh, thank Heavens.
I mean, he's unconscious
with a tomahawk in his chest,
but he's alive.
Do you want some milk?
- Yeah.
- Okay.
There you go.
It's gonna be fine.
Albert, I am so sorry
that I was horrible to you.
You were gone for three days!
Exactly!
And you already had
a funeral for me?
I gave you $2 million
to stay away.
Can we not talk
about this right now?
Albert has a tomahawk
in his chest!
Sometimes I think you care
more about Albert
than you do my remarriage.
Oh, you're finally getting it,
are you, sister?
Oh, my Albert.
My Albee-Walbee.
No one will ever replace you.
Hello, I'm Dr. Goldberg,
Albert's doctor.
I'll be living here
while taking care of Albert.
Hello, my name is Victor.
And I'm incredibly
vulnerable right now.
Let the healing begin.
Langundo, Little One,
other people,
you should go.
Brother Mitch,
come home with us.
This is my home.
The choice is simple--
a life of honor
among dignified people
or a life of lowly servitude
in the basement
of a veritable asylum.
But without me,
who would express
the peacock's anal glands?
Who would beat the children?
I'm a part of this family.
No, you're not.
Garfield could be trained
to be the butler.
It seems like they'll be fine.
I'm sorry, brother,
I cannot leave.
My role here
among these people--
Oh, Garfield,
you're the new butler now.
White people show their love
in a different way.
Go.
Go with Great Spirit.
Very convincing.
Now me.
- Maybe you're the stoic one.
- Mm.
Today's a wonderful day.
Our husbands are finally dead.
Well, they're not dead.
We just paid them to disappear
so that we could
pursue higher-born,
more upwardly mobile husbands
that are more like our...
- Equals.
- Brothers.
Usually it takes seven years
for the missing
to be declared dead,
but Daddy pulled some strings.
_
More calling cards,
all sending their condolences.
Oil baron, robber baron,
rubber baron,
bacon baron.
So many barons.
I mean, Jesus,
is there any downside
to dead husbands?
I wish they were dead
when we married them.
It's so sad.
Cutie, Daddy's dead.
♪ I want the
money, I want the fame ♪
♪ I want the whole world
to know my name ♪
♪ this is mine,
I got to get it ♪
♪ I got to get it,
got, got to get it ♪
♪ Another Period ♪
Mitchell P. Spiritwalker,
the whole family has
traveled a great distance
through many storms
and with much difficulty
to see you again,
younger brother.
On behalf of all of us,
I say hello.
Wrong door.
_
Ashinabee Langundo.
Ashinabee Mitch...
or Peepers, as your new tribe
calls you.
Why have you come?
The Bellacourts do not know
of my heritage,
and I wish to keep it that way.
Our father has died.
Ooh.
We have come to conduct
a condolence ceremony.
Oldest and youngest brother
united in mourning.
We must do it today.
Langundo, I don't have time
for this today.
I have an escargot-spoon
situation that--
Mitch, if we do not complete
this ceremony by sundown,
Father's soul will be trapped
between two worlds,
never to find peace.
And your aunt needs
to use the restroom.
Yes, I was raised as an Indian.
My parents were white alcoholics
who abandoned me
during the Gold Rush
on the way to California.
A tribe took me in
and raised me as their own.
But during my vision quest,
I saw an image
of a white butler,
and I knew then
that I had found my path.
Can't you make
my neckline lower?
My husband's dead,
not my teats.
Madams...
Forgive me, but I must ask
the most difficult question
of my entire
25 years of service.
May I have the afternoon off?
It is an emergency.
No.
It would only be
for a few hours,
and I won't leave the premises.
- No.
- I hate to ask, but...
my father died,
and we're holding a funeral.
Wait.
You have a father?
Yes, Lady Beatrice.
Do you know
how you have relatives?
Mm-hmm.
I, too, have relatives.
Oh.
Does that mean
cows have funerals?
No, only people.
And servants?
Yes, also servants.
Lady, I hate
to press the issue,
but we must hold the funeral,
or his soul cannot
ascend to Heaven.
You can't have your funeral
the same day we're
having our funeral.
Today is the day I'm gonna meet
the thick-dicked man
of my dreams.
Yeah, stop copying us, Peepers.
I assure you,
it was unintentional.
It's fine.
Go have your fun,
your little funeral.
But don't let it
interfere with your duties.
Thank you, ma'am.
♪ I just want the money, money
I just want the money ♪
Aha, this is our
moment we've been waiting for.
Oh, we can do anything we want.
What do you want to do first?
Uh, oh, we could eat something.
- Are you hungry?
- I could eat if you could.
What do you want to eat?
I don't know.
Quail, rabbit?
Nah.
How about mincemeat pie?
Well, we're not destitute.
I mean...
mincemeat pie?
I could do Bananas Foster.
Well, that's a dessert.
I'm not gonna--
- Well, what do you want to eat?
- I can eat anything.
You cannot eat anything,
or you wouldn't have dismissed
every idea I gave you.
Well, I'm not saying
that your ideas are bad,
but maybe you could
choose something
that's a little more
appropriate.
Why don't you just cool down?
And I'll start cooking something
that I hope you'll like.
All right, just make sure
it's not grouse.
Langundo, you'll have to
remind me of the ceremony.
Of course you don't remember
now that you are a big shot
with a door that locks.
Only from the outside.
Brother Mitchell,
can I try on
your tuxedo jacket?
No, Little One.
You know, many people find it
very offensive
when you adopt the garb
of another culture.
No, this is not a costume.
It is a way of life.
We should get started
if we are going to finish
the six-hour fire ceremony
before sundown.
Do you think we could
compress it
down to about 15 minutes?
There is a lot of unnecessary
fire in that ceremony.
Haaa!
Oh, my darling.
I'm so sorry to hear
about poor Albert.
How are you holding up?
- I'm sad.
- Yeah.
Now rip off my morning dress
and make love to me.
It's what Albert
would have wanted.
Nothing would make me happier
than falling face-first
into your mossy treasure,
but...
what if Albert's a ghost?
What if he's watching us?
No, silly, Albert's alive.
He's in a secret cabin
surrounded
by a beautiful garden,
living with Victor.
He's in a better place.
Poor simple Beatrice.
Of course he's alive,
enjoying the company
of male friends.
Of course.
Of course.
Oh, Chair.
Oh, are you busy?
Just working
17 to 22 hours a day.
I'll take that
as a "no."
Would you be a dear
and put the children to bed?
Oh, and would you mind
telling them
that their fathers are dead?
- Me?
- Is that a problem?
- I--
- Uh-uh-uh, Chair.
Don't make me rename you
Water Closet.
Love you.
_
Everyone's coming
to my funeral.
The press is coming,
eligible men are coming--
all the more reason to make this
the party of the century.
Thank you for coming.
Very cute.
Could you be
any more tasteless?
Ooh, been watching you
devour the buffet.
You might want to
taste less yourself.
Your husband has been dead
for three days.
You should be asha--
Oh, my God!
Is that Mark Twain?
Oh, he's a river boat baron,
I believe.
He's the greatest writer
of our time, you imbecile.
Old Man River.
And that's why I don't read.
Mr. Twain,
it's an honor.
I love your work.
Ah, well, thank you,
huge woman.
I'm Hortense.
Yeah, that feels right.
Now, what does a man
have to do around here
to get a drink?
I'm sweating as much
as a frog on jumping day
trying to outleap a cat.
I'm sorry.
Albert, I'm sorry.
Oh!
You scared me half to death.
Oh, I'm sorry.
No, he's watching.
I know it.
Look what you did, Albert!
I hate you!
- My doll!
- My doll!
Children...
- My doll!
- This is my doll!
Please stop.
Hey, lady, fetch.
First of all, I'm the one
who has to break the news to
Lillian and Beatrice's children?
And second of all,
they have children?
My name is Chair.
- What's yours?
- I'm Susan.
I'm also Susan.
What's a name?
My mom calls me
The Little Asshole.
The life-or-death bell.
I'm sorry.
I must take this.
I'm sure we can recover
his spirit on your schedule.
Don't worry about us.
Great.
Mr. Hal Carnegie.
I'm Lillian,
rhymes with "billion,"
as in the amount
of dollars you have.
Thanks for coming
on such short notice.
Oh, speaking of
"short, no tits,"
look what we have here.
I see it's true what they say
about your wit
and sharp tongue.
I am just trying
to lighten the mood.
Sorry to be so crass.
Oh, that's all right.
I literally have no
behavioral standards at all.
Well, then you won't mind
if we do a little
heavy flirting
here at your husband's funeral.
Not at all.
Oh, and just so you know,
I do have eight children,
but they've all been
ripped from my stomach, so...
tight as a Jew's wallet
down there.
Mm, I wouldn't mind
making a deposit.
Ooh.
Madam, you rang
the life-or-death bell.
Oh. Oh, I thought I rang
the "more custard" bell.
You wouldn't happen
to have more custard,
would you, Peepers?
A good butler always
has extra custard, madam.
Ooh!
Oh, well, I have to do
this little eulogy thing,
but, uh, let's, uh,
pick up later.
Yes, good luck.
I have some very bad news
that I must tell you.
Your fathers are dead.
No!
Peepers!
I will miss him so!
No, no, Peepers
isn't your father.
Oh, is it Blanche, then?
Blanche is a woman.
Jesus.
- No, she's not.
- Yes, she is.
Why are these children
still awake?
Here you go.
It's quieting syrup.
Thank God.
Some Chinese herb?
No, of course not.
It's morphine.
Morphine?
Just a quick announcement.
To the owner
of the 1901 Renault,
license plate F,
your headlamps are illuminated.
Poppycock.
I could give a better speech
than that.
Welcome, everyone,
to the funeral
of Victor Schmemmerhorn-Fish V.
Also featuring Albert.
Victor would not want
to be remembered
for the way that he lived,
but for the way that he died.
Victor's boat was on its way
to the Isle of Argentine,
when suddenly
it was struck by lightning,
torn apart by enormous,
thrashing waves.
Who cares?
I don't.
Victor's partially burned--
partially burned,
half-drowned body
was then feasted upon
by swarms of sharks
who devoured their prey first
by eating his face,
and then by devouring
every one of his appendages--
arms, legs...
even that one.
So, for dinner,
you decided to make dessert.
You didn't want grouse.
You didn't want quail.
You didn't want rabbit.
You didn't want mincemeat pie.
So I made a cobbler.
But it's fine.
I don't know how many times
I have to tell you
I am grouse-intolerant.
Maybe you're just
Albert-intolerant.
I'm sorry you don't like
my cobbler.
I'm sorry I'm a horrible cook.
You're not a horrible cook.
I'm sorry I have no idea
what to do in the kitchen.
- Don't become a victim.
- Okay, I'm not the victim.
- Fine.
- Okay, yes.
- I can agree too.
- I'm happy.
I'm agreeing with you, yes.
Whatever you say.
I'm gonna eat,
'cause I'm actually hungry.
Oh, would you like mine?
You can have mine.
Why don't you just put on
a few more pounds?
So, after the sharks
had their way
with his pulpy, hollow limbs,
Victor's carcass
made its way to the seafloor,
only to be seized
by flesh-eating mollusks
who devoured him and left
nothing but his saddle shoes.
And that's how you tell
a eulogy, friends.
And now, just as the sea
washed the blood
out of my husband's eyeballs,
let her wash
the tears out of yours--
Beatrice Tiffani
Amberthiessen Downsey!
This eulogy is for Albert.
Is this really happening?
Listen, my yacht is stocked
and headed to New Guinea.
We depart tonight.
Say you'll join me.
- New Guinea.
- Mm.
- I do love cannibals.
- Mm.
"And then the mermaid
died a brutal, bloody death.
The end."
Can I have
some more vapor drug?
I think you've really
got a problem.
There you are.
So this is the upstairs, huh?
Not too shabby.
I kind of want to shit
on all the pillows.
Look, I sent for you
because I need your help.
Oh, man, I think I'm gonna
yank myself
into a sock right now.
Are you gonna help me or not?
I'm here, ain't I?
I gave these kids
quieting syrup,
and this one won't fall asleep.
I built up my tolerance.
Oh, bet he doesn't have
a tolerance to this, huh?
What is wrong with you?
I'm sorry.
I misread your signals.
I don't want him murdered.
I want him to go to sleep.
Well, then why did
you ask for me, huh?
- That's what I do.
- I don't know.
I'll kill all these kids.
Wait.
Where did he go?
Maybe he went to
Who Gives a Shit Land.
No, where did he go?
I don't know.
Want to fuck
on this pile of kids?
I don't think it's
gonna happen tonight.
I don't think it's going
to happen for me either.
It might help if you apologize.
Okay, fine.
I'm sorry that you behaved
in such a way
that got me so upset
that now I'm flaccid at best.
I can tell
that your apologizing
is not, in fact, an apology.
And I'll have you know
I'm flaccid too.
I mean, maybe this
isn't working.
I feel like ever since
we left the manor,
all the exciting parts
of our love are just gone.
Maybe we should go home.
And give back the $2 million?
What good is $2 million
if we can't pound each other?
I'll ready our luggage.
You need to get dressed.
- I need to finish myself.
- No, just get dressed.
Let me just do
one time through.
- It'll take 45 minutes.
- No.
Oh, Great Spirit,
life fades like the sunset.
We ask that his spirit
come to you without shape.
I have to get that.
Are you serious?
Look, I want our father
to join with the Great Spirit,
but that's
the life-or-death bell, man.
There's life-or-death
going on up there!
Plus I'm in charge
of the Jell-O.
Madam, what was
the life-or-death emergency
this time?
Can't you see
I'm grieving, Peepers?
This is ridiculous.
Where is Mitch?
We need him here to recite
the final incantation.
Let's go find him.
Tom Sawyer was based
on my boyhood lover.
Yep.
Look it up.
Yes, Victor, if I remember,
it wasn't just a pork stew.
It was more than a pork stew.
What the shit on hell
of all shits is this?
Is this a... funeral?
For us?
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
We've been gone three days!
Why is my picture
so much smaller?
No, no, no, no, no.
I told you to stay downstairs.
No, it can't be.
You've violated our treaty.
Ghosts, ghosts!
Ghosts!
Is that my dad?
Ah!
No!
My Albert!
No!
My party!
No, my tomahawk!
These people are savages.
Oh, no, no, don't go.
Uh, we're about to start
the black-person
caricature contest.
Hey, butterscotch...
send me a telegram
when your husband really dies.
Shh.
It's not your fault.
It was an accident.
Albert will be fine.
So he's not a ghost.
No, he's alive.
Oh, thank Heavens.
I mean, he's unconscious
with a tomahawk in his chest,
but he's alive.
Do you want some milk?
- Yeah.
- Okay.
There you go.
It's gonna be fine.
Albert, I am so sorry
that I was horrible to you.
You were gone for three days!
Exactly!
And you already had
a funeral for me?
I gave you $2 million
to stay away.
Can we not talk
about this right now?
Albert has a tomahawk
in his chest!
Sometimes I think you care
more about Albert
than you do my remarriage.
Oh, you're finally getting it,
are you, sister?
Oh, my Albert.
My Albee-Walbee.
No one will ever replace you.
Hello, I'm Dr. Goldberg,
Albert's doctor.
I'll be living here
while taking care of Albert.
Hello, my name is Victor.
And I'm incredibly
vulnerable right now.
Let the healing begin.
Langundo, Little One,
other people,
you should go.
Brother Mitch,
come home with us.
This is my home.
The choice is simple--
a life of honor
among dignified people
or a life of lowly servitude
in the basement
of a veritable asylum.
But without me,
who would express
the peacock's anal glands?
Who would beat the children?
I'm a part of this family.
No, you're not.
Garfield could be trained
to be the butler.
It seems like they'll be fine.
I'm sorry, brother,
I cannot leave.
My role here
among these people--
Oh, Garfield,
you're the new butler now.
White people show their love
in a different way.
Go.
Go with Great Spirit.