Bob Hearts Abishola (2019–…): Season 3, Episode 18 - Greasy Underdog - full transcript

Previously on Bob
Hearts Abishola...

You know, it's important to have
the support of the community

when you first move
to this country.

Yes. I am so thankful for it.

Then you should be very careful.

Regarding?

I know you are...

(whispers): Gay.

Don't worry. I will
not tell anyone.

I would appreciate that. Mm-hmm.

You heard about Morenike? I did.



She just did not seem
like that kind of girl.

Well, you really can't tell
that kind of thing by looking.

Although my mom thinks she can.

It just hurts to be rejected
over something I cannot control.

I think that's
better. It's not you.

If she's gay, she's gay.

She's gay?

We just need to warn Morenike

that her secret
may be getting out.

Mm-hmm. Because of Bob.

Do we have to
mention the Bob part?

Did you have to
mention the gay part?

Fair.

PASTOR: Be gone,
servant of Satan!



That can't be good.

There they are. Welcome
to Dave's Coney,

the crown jewel of Detroit.

I thought you were taking us to
the best restaurant in the city.

It is. This is a hot dog stand.

I know.

Across from a Jiffy Lube.

Yeah.

Dave's has been
here for 80 years.

Dave smells like it.

Be nice, Kemi.

Thank you, Bob.

I look forward to eating
80-year-old hot dogs.

Trust me, it's a
once-in-a-lifetime experience.

No, I've had food
poisoning before.

I, too, once thought this
place was disgusting.

Yeah, but then you gave that
greasy underdog a chance

and fell in love.

Sound familiar?

Ugh.

And I thought the hot dog

would be the thing
to make me vomit.

CHUKWUEMEKA: We are
in your hands, Bob.

Tell us what to
dip where and when.

Smart move. You're
about to see chili used

in ways you never
thought possible.

Next customer, please.

Uh...

Morenike? Oh.

Hello, everyone.

What are you doing here?

Working.

In this den of salmonella?

I needed a job.

I thought you were
in school full-time.

I am. Well, when do you sleep?

Like the sign says,

when the chili runs out.

So this is why you have
been nodding off in church.

I assumed you were out burning
the midnight lesbian oil.

You should be focusing on your
studies. Does this job even pay well?

You should still be
focusing on your studies.

BOB: Guys, guys, come on.

Maybe she's in it for
the free hot dogs.

I am not, Bob.

Okay.

But I have no choice.

Once my parents heard
about my situation,

they disowned me.

Oh, no.

Is there anything I can do?

You have done enough already.

Now do you wish you had
taken us to a steakhouse?

("I fan la" by Sola
Akingbola playing)

(scoffs)

Morenike's family
Photoshopped her

out of every
picture on Facebook.

Even her graduation photo.

Her parents are just
hugging a certificate.

That's cold.

But very professional.

I know who to call

when I declare one of
my children dead to me.

So, what's gonna
happen to Morenike?

Without her parents' money,

she will have no choice but
to return home to Nigeria.

Where they can control her life
and force her to marry a man.

That's awful. Mm-hmm.

I know how she feels.

When I refused to go back
to Nigeria with Tayo,

everybody turned
their back on me.

Everybody?

Didn't your aunt and uncle
give you a place to live?

I had to beat out 12 other
applicants for that room.

Well, what about me?

What about you?

I supported you after Tayo left.

You told me I was making the
biggest mistake of my life.

I was supporting
you with honesty.

You shouted, "Get off my couch
and go home to your husband."

I was testing your conviction.

You refused to be seen
with me in public.

I was testing my conviction.

Here. Go grab lunch from Dave's.

200 bucks' worth of chili dogs.

Oh, no, are you
getting divorced again?

It's not for me. Buy us lunch.
Put the rest in the tip jar.

You should throw in your watch.

You ruined that little
gay girl's life.

Starting to feel
like a drug deal.

I assume.

Morenike will think
you are doing this

just to relieve your guilt.

That's exactly why
I'm doing this.

She's a Nigerian.

Her pride will not allow
her to take your money.

Oh, BS. Everybody's
got a number.

300,000. What?

That's my price. For what?

You got the cash, you tell me.

Years ago, after I
lost my professorship

and then my home, an
old colleague offered

to let me stay at
his house for free.

Oh, that was nice. It was.

But I could not accept.

My pride would not let me.

That is why I
admire you, cousin.

Then you admire a fool.

He had a Jacuzzi and
two eligible daughters.

I was single, and they
were ready to mingle.

And by "mingle," I mean...

Yeah, we got it.

So there's just no
way I can help her?

I'm afraid not.

Morenike will want to resolve
this problem on her own.

I prefer the American way.

You ruin somebody's life,

the lawyers figure out an
amount to pay them off,

and nobody ever
talks about it again.

You mean like that
UPS guy you hit?

Nobody ever talks
about it again.

What are you doing?

Just helping our
forgetful friend.

(scoffs)

"Kemi got me my first job here."

Mm-hmm.

"Kemi braided my hair

and gave me my signature look."

I did.

"Kemi told me to marry Bob.

She's the reason I am
a happy trophy wife"?

Look, If Abishola will
not give me any credit,

then I will have to
take it by force.

(scoffs)

You know how prideful she is.

She just wants to believe

she pulled herself
up by her bootstraps.

I bought her the boots!

Boots.

You remember when Abishola
first came to this hospital?

Of course. She was pathetic.

She was doing the
wrong paperwork,

mixing up all the
old white patients.

That's why you give
them nicknames:

Toothless, Big Ears,
Spits When He Talks.

The point is,

we both saw a young
girl who looked like us,

and we wanted her to succeed.

We helped Abishola because
we were her support system,

not because we wanted credit.

No, I always wanted credit.

Give me this.

What are you doing?

Writing down all the times

I saved your ass
from getting fired.

"Naked with Andrew
in the deep freezer."

"Fistfight with janitor."

"Naked with janitor."

I didn't know you
knew about that.

Oh, I knew, and erased the
security camera footage.

Wish I could erase
it from my memory.

Well, unlike some people,

I can show my gratitude,
so thank you, Gloria.

You're welcome.

You have looked out
for me like a much,

much, much older sister.

Please. You're just one
hot flash behind me.

E karo, Auntie. E karo, Uncle.

E karo, Morenike.

It is a wonderful day, isn't it?

As beautiful as a rainbow.

You got new mugs.

We did.

(hushed): The
rainbow is a symbol

of people who are like you.

You do not have
to whisper, Uncle.

And in time, I will not.

Thank you.

It is a small way to show

we are proud of you.

A small, private way
that we will hide

if anyone from church
comes to visit.

You are so good to me.

Which is why I'm ashamed
to say I cannot make rent.

Oh, do not worry. We
can give you a few days.

But a few more
days will not help.

I cannot afford to pay
for school and live here.

What will you do?

MORENIKE: I have options.

I found an
experimental drug trial

that lets you sleep in the lab

while they study the
effects on your brain.

(sighs)

You will not be
anyone's guinea pig.

You belong here with us.

We will pause your rent.

The last thing I want is to be

a burden to those
who have stood by me.

What if we call it a loan?

That would help.

And to make you feel
more comfortable,

we can require you to
sign a binding contract.

I would like that. Of
course. You are family.

I do not know what I
would do without you.

Do not worry.

We offer a competitive,
adjustable-rate loan

with no prepayment penalty.

Abishola. Yes?

I have decided we need to
put our differences aside

and focus on the greater good.

What differences?

I will also put the fact
that you are unaware

that we had differences aside.

Morenike needs our help.

I agree.

And who best to assist her

than two flourishing
Nigerian women?

"Flourishing." I like that.

I thought it summed
us up quite well.

We should get her a
job at the hospital.

Yes. She cannot spend her
nights peddling salty wieners.

I'll ask around and see which
floors need a nurse tech.

Or I could just give her
a job in the cafeteria.

How will moving from one greasy
place to another help her?

My kitchen is not greasy.

Kemi.

My kitchen is not as greasy.

We need to do what
is best for Morenike.

And what does that mean?

A job in a kitchen
does not set her up

for success in her career.

Oh, really?

Because I seem to remember
a certain somebody

who got their start
in my kitchen.

And not on dish duty.

I let you run the waffle maker.

I only worked there
for a few months.

It was a year, and it
put money in your pocket

when you had nothing.

Your nose is turned up so far,

you have forgotten who
got you where you are.

You?

Yes!

Let me refresh your memory, eh?

I let you stay on my couch
when your husband left.

I lent you money for textbooks.

I told you when the
hospital was hiring nurses.

And I got the job.

I studied for years
to be qualified.

I did all the hard work,

and you cannot take
credit for that.

I do not want all of the credit.

It would just be nice if you
would acknowledge a single one

of the many, many things
I have done for you!

This is nonsense.

I gave birth to Dele myself.

Yes, but I prayed for a boy!

Oh, hey. Hello.

What are you doing here?

Uh, it's been a while
since I checked on Mom.

I've been so busy
with the new job.

Oh. I'm sure she understands.

Yeah, she doesn't.

Sorry, it's been a day.

I've also had a day.

Oh, do tell.

It's nothing.

I don't want to
bother you with it.

Why not? I'm always boring
you with my problems.

That is true.

So come on, have a drink

and tell me all about it.

Did Kemi spend hours at
the immigration office

after my visa expired?

Did Kemi get a nursing degree

despite having to deal
with racist professors?

Well, I don't know
Kemi's journey,

but I'm gonna say no.

Correct.

Okay, you know what I'm hearing?

Hmm? You need a reset.

A reset? Mm-hmm.

I've got a place in Arizona.

In the morning, you have
therapy and you empty your mind.

And then in the afternoon,
you have a coffee enema

and you empty your colon.

I-I don't... I don't think
the answer is in my colon.

Oh? I will still be in
debt from nursing school.

Mm. And will add more
for medical school.

Mine and Dele's. Oh.

I didn't realize that.

And I still worry if I am
raising Dele the right way.

Is he American enough? Oh.

Is he Nigerian enough? Mm-hmm.

Am I Nigerian enough?

(sighs) I want to say yes,

but I don't think it's my place.

Correct again! Ah!

(both laughing)

Next customer.

Bob.

Wonderful to see you.

I will get your back medicine.

Actually, I'm here
for something else.

Your mother's
anxiety medication?

No. Your sister's
anxiety medication?

Boy, we are a family
of pill poppers.

We are a country
of pill poppers.

Go, Big Pharma.

Right.

Listen, I was hoping
you could help me out.

Anything for you, Bob.

I'm trying to get a job

for a promising
young pharmacist.

Oh, no, not that, Bob.

Come on, Chuey. You
know Morenike's good.

She's a hard
worker, super smart,

top of her class
in pharmacy school.

I have no doubt that
she is qualified.

Then what's the problem?

In my culture, it
is not acceptable

to be associated with
someone like her.

I get it. When I
was in high school,

we had a gay guy on
our wrestling team.

Made me uncomfortable
'cause we all had to change

in the same locker room.

What did you do?

Well, I was a jerk
for a long time,

and then one day,
I talked to him.

Naked in the locker room?

No. In school, fully clothed.

But once I knew more than
that one thing about him,

we became buddies.

He came over to the house.
We hung out all the time.

What did your mother say?

Are you kidding? She
was crazy about him.

Said she always wanted a gay son

because they love
their mothers more.

Yeah, I do not think my mother
would have the same reaction.

I'm not talking to your mom.

I'm talking to you.

You're a good guy, Chuey.

Always looking out for people.

Because that is my
duty as a pharmacist.

I took an oath to "consider
the welfare of humanity

and relief of suffering."

Sounds like you know what
you need to do, then.

You're asking too much of me.

I am just a man.

You're not just a man, damn it.

You are a pharmacist.

(loud typing)

Do you have to do that?

My job? Yes.

Why the hell were you getting
drunk on a Tuesday anyway?

Because my
sister-in-law loves me.

(wheels squeaking loudly)

I heard that someone
up here has a headache.

I would imagine this cart
is making it much worse.

Kemi, please.

(squeaking continues)

Either apologize or get
the woman some WD-40.

She should apologize to me.

(scoffs)

(squeaking continues)

I can't take it.

I'm going up to pre-op
and help shave people.

Strange, you would think
my cart would be well-oiled

from all the grease
in my kitchen.

E kaasan, Aunties.
E kaasan, Morenike.

I am so glad you're both here.

What is happening?

I just wanted to thank you.

Eh, you don't have to do that.

But I do. I'm overwhelmed
by your kindness.

You should be.

What kindness?

You got me the job, didn't you?

Of course we did. (Chuckles)

What job?

What Abishola is saying is

we planted seeds
all over this city.

You just have to remind
us which one's fruited.

The CVS.

The pay is better.
The hours are better.

I get to work in my profession.

I start next week,

and it is all because of you.

Oh, no, we don't do
it for the credit.

I cannot wait to
tell Auntie and Uncle

and thank them for
all their help.

Why is she thanking them?

They had nothing to do with it.

Those two better not take credit
for what we apparently did.

E kaasan, Auntie.
E kaasan, Uncle.

Oh. Hello.

That is my wonderful niece.

I'm sorry to interrupt.

I did not realize
you had a guest.

Oh, no, James is not our guest.

He is for you.

I'm sorry, I do not understand.

Neither do I.

They said they had
a tax emergency.

Uh, I can explain.

That was a lie.

James lives in 418.

He has a rainbow welcome
mat outside his door.

Which is helpful for the
other gays to find him.

I should really go. Oh, no.

Did we offend you?

Oh, we're sorry. We don't
know how to do this,

but we are trying to learn.

Our niece is newly gay
and needs some guidance.

They mean well.

It's all right.

People always think
that being gay

is like being in a secret club.

Is it not?

It kind of is. (Laughter)

You are very funny, James.

Would you mind being
our gay friend, too?

What the hell? Why not?

Wonderful!

Olu, uh, we are going
to need more mugs.

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