Brockmire (2017–…): Season 2, Episode 4 - Retirement Ceremony - full transcript

Uh, the truth is, my father
was a very flawed parent

and a very flawed husband.

Heck, he was very flawed man.

But that did not stop him

from trying his level best
at all three.

You were a complicated man, sir.

But you very lived hard
and in that passion for life.

Well, therein lies the lesson

for those of us that --
that you left behind.

Wow.

First I was like, "Where
is he going with this
George Brett story?"



But you really tied it
together really nicely.

Yeah. It's what I call an LBA --
a Load-Bearing Anecdote.

I thought
you hated your father.

Oh, I do. I did.

He treated me and my sister
like we were an old dirty napkin

that you'd use to pick up
a piece of dog shit

by the side of the road.

But you know, he's gone,
so time to move on.

This is more emotional maturity
than I'd expect from you.

I'm in a pretty good place,
Charles.

I mean, not in terms of
my career or my love life

or the frequency of
my bowel movements.

But I've made peace
with my past.

You know, seeing Lucy last year,
that taught me



that your past can only
hurt you if you let it.

This eulogy, this is, uh --
It's my opportunity

to show my family just exactly
how much I have matured.

We have a game
in two hours.

Shit. Well,
better perk up then, huh?

Hey, you know, if the funeral
is on Monday,

you're gonna have to
miss a game.

And Raj is gonna have to
replace you.

Really?
Well, what can I say?

Some things are just
a little bit more
important than baseball.

I'm...proud of you.

Is that a binder
full of eulogies?

Oh, yes, Charles. Part of my job
as a seasoned orator

is to be able to speak
eloquently about the dead

on a moment's notice.

You have one
written about me?

Mm.
Yes, I do.

♪♪

This is beautiful.

♪♪

Why don't you say any of this
to my face?

Well, for the dead,
I have poetry, Charles.

For the living,
my sincerest apologies.

♪♪

Well, thank you for the ride
from the airport, my friend.

So, how much
do you make?

How much do I make?

I'm doing all right lately.
Why?

So, $1,000 is, like,
nothing to you?

Do you need $1,000?
Is that it?

I wouldn't turn it down.

You know, son,
I'm not sure

this is the way you're
supposed to treat family.

You don't have to
give it to me...

if you know my first name.

Ah, shit, you told it to me,
too, didn't ya?

Goddamn it.

What is your first name,
anyway?

It's Jim.
I'm named after you.

Good God.

Here, there's --
That's $1,100.

Why don't we
just call it even?

Hello?

Is that my brother?

Yeah.

Hey, Jean.

What the hell
are you doing here?

Well, you know,
great to see you, too.

I told you Dad died
out of respect.

I didn't think you'd actually
have the balls

to come into this house.Don't get upset, all right?

I'm not here to make a scene,
I promise.

I let go of my anger at Dad
a long time ago.

I -- You know, I-I've put
the past behind me, Jean.

Yeah?
Well, I haven't.

Your meltdown
made me a laughingstock,

brought shame
to the Brockmire name.

I'm sorry I brought shame
to House Brockmire, Jean.

Boy, I didn't realize
we were in Winterfell here.

I'm just glad my sons
have my husband's name.

Isn't Norm's last name
Glasscock?

Yeah.

My grandson Harry
has a scar

where a bully
threw a glass dildo at his head.

Do you know how hard it is

to find a glass dildo
in the Ozarks?

The kid's full name
is Harry Glasscock?

Yeah. And still,

his life is still better than
if it were Harry Brockmire.

My only comfort is the Brockmire
name dies with you.

Boy.

For a funeral,
this is getting pretty dark.

No one asked you to come.

I have a right to be --
He's my father, too, okay?

And I seem to remember,
back in the day, you people

were all over me
when you wanted something,

like, uh, Royals tickets
or bail money

or Dan Quisenberry-autographed
cleats.

But as soon as my life
went into the toilet,

y'all were nowhere to be found,
huh?

You know, believe it or not,
I was going through

quite a lot back then.
Oh.

Could've used -- Yeah, could've
used a little bit of support.

You were going
through a lot?
Yeah!

Norm has had prostate cancer
twice.

My daughter abandoned
my grandson on the doorstep.

And when Dad he got sick,
he moved in here.

If you think he was an asshole
when he was living,

he really kicked it up a notch
when he was dying.

Plus...I'm a homosexual.

Holy shit, Jean.

I mean, I-I knew you were gay,
I just --

I didn't know
that you knew.

Of course I knew.
What was I gonna do about it?

After a botched epidural
on my third kid,

I lost all feeling
in my vagina.

Plus, I'm a middle-aged woman
living in the Ozarks.

Well, fair enough.

Looks like life dealt us both
a pretty bad poker hand,

and, uh, it turns out
we were playing UNO, huh?

The difference is
I don't whine about it.

You know, of course life sucks.
You just gotta put one foot
in front of the other

and carry your burdens on
your back until they crush you.

You don't get on a microphone
and cry about it

like a little bitch.

Norm?

Will you get that?

Hey.

Jim?

Hey, Norm.

Why, I see, uh, he's still
quite the chatty Cathy, huh?

Unlike some people,
Norm doesn't talk

unless he has something
to say.

He's a great man.
He is my rock.

Norm, hon?

I love you...
like the brother I never had.

Okay, I can see that
this weekend's

turning into a series
of body blows to ol' Jim.

So, uh, I'm gonna need biblical
amounts of booze, Jean.

Not particular.
Any of your grain-based alcohols

will do very nicely.

Um, scotch, whiskey,
rye, bourbon, whatever.

Vodka?

How 'bout gin?
I mean, it's primarily a berry.

This is a dry house.

What?

Mm-hmm.

Jean, matching
drink for drink --

That's the only way we can
tolerate each other's company.

I've been sober
for 10 years.

Holy shit.

I mean, my favorite thing
about you

is that you're
a mildly amusing drunk.

Hey, these are for
the invitedguests.

Just stay out of the way

and try not to make an ass
out of yourself.

Thank you, baby, for coming.
Thank you so much.

Hey, folks.

♪♪

Come on, Dad, talk to me.
Talk to me.

Come on.

Come on.

Oh, yes!

I knew you had a stash here
somewhere. Ha!

Oh, rum
Goddamn it.

Still drinking sugar alcohol
like a child.

Oh!

♪♪

Oh, God.

Mm!

♪ Take me out
to the ball game ♪

♪ Take me out with the crowd

♪ Buy me some... Hey, Jim.
How's it going?

It's not good, Charles.

I made a tremendous mistake
coming here.

My entire family
hates my guts.

Please tell me that Raj
is doin' terribly.

Hey, just the ladies!
Just the ladies!

♪ Buy me some peanuts
and Cracker Jacks ♪

Fellas,
stop being so selfish.

♪ I don't care
if I never get back ♪

Yeah, no. They're definitely not
sparking to him.

♪ Root, root, root
for the... ♪

Oh, thank God something good
happened today.

Charles,
I'm already down $1,100,

and there's nothing here
to drink but rum.

This literally
could not get any worse.

Okay, it just got significantly
worse, Charles.

Lucy just got here!
Lucy is here!

Holy shit!

Holy shit. ♪ Take me out
to the ball game ♪

Okay, you can do this.

♪ Take me out
with the crowd ♪Remember what you said --

The past can only hurt you
if you let it.

Okay.

All right, thank you, Charles.
That helped a lot.

Uh, I love you, Charles.

♪ If they don't win,
it's a shame ♪

Really?
You're gonna leave me hanging?

♪ Three strikes you're out
at the old ball game ♪

You're more than
just a boss to me.

I'll take it, but you
done me dirty, Charles.

Raj: All right, here we go.
Three, two, one!

Uh what the hell
are you doing here?

I have a Google alert
on my phone

for the phrase
"Jim Brockmire dead."

My God.
Charles has one of those, too.

When I found it was your father,
I still wanted to come.

I remember how difficult
your relationship was.

Here's the thing, Lucy.

These people are already
treating me

like I'm some kind of
a child molester.

Now, you being here, huh,
is only gonna make that worse.

It doesn't matter
what they think.

Jim, I wanted to
be here for you.

Okay, well, be here for me here,
all right?

And I'm gonna be --
I'll be in there.

Jim Brockmire!

Yeah. Hey, friend,
how are you doin'?

Are you
one of Dad's cousins?

Oh, no.
Never met the man.

Just wanted to take a picture
with the freakshow.

Great.
Nice to meet you.

Harlot want a cracker?

No, thank you.

I can give it to you
in a to-go bag.

♪♪

Hey.

Oh, hey.

Folks are, uh, being pretty hard
on you, huh?

People here don't get
my way of life.

Hey, you didn't fly
all the way back here

just for this, did you?Well, yeah.

Why, Lucy
I don't know

that I would've done
the same thing for you.

You didn't.
Mom died six years ago.

Dad, five.

I'm so sorry. God,
I always liked your folks, too.

Hey, did my public rant
and, uh, meltdown about you --

Was that very upsetting
for them?

It was tough for a while.

I'm sorry about that, too.
Boy, I never meant to hurt them.

Just you.

I know.

You know, it got better
before they were gone.

They finally learned
to accept me as I am.

Well, I guess in a way,

I kind of brought y'all
closer together, then, huh?

No, Jim.
That's insane.

You are not the hero
of this story.

My parents are.

Well...it's good
to see you, Lucy.

That sounded strange the second
it came out of my mouth.

How can I help you
through this?

I'm -- I'm fine, really.

I'm just here to give my father
a decent eulogy, you know,

just let everybody know
that I accept him

for who he was,
warts and all.

Jim,
that's really beautiful.

It's so great to know that,
even after everything he did,

today will be
all about forgiveness.

Jean: All right, let's get
this asshole in the ground!

Come on.

[Rain falling,
funeral music plays]

♪♪

Oh, boy.

So many feelings, Goddamn it.

♪♪

Daddy.

♪♪

What are you doing?

I'm just saying goodbye,
Jean.

That's not him.

I-I know that his soul
no longer, you know,

technically inhabits his body,
but --

No, that's not him.

Dad's in the casket
over there.

What?
Who the hell is this?

I have no idea.
Ugh!! Got --

Got dead-guy makeup
in my mouth!

Jesus Christ! God!

Ugh!

Is that him?

W
What, did he die in a river?

No. This is what happens when
you drink yourself to death.

All right,
message received.

Stay away from rum.

My God.

Okay, it's time.

Well, um, are you gonna
speak first, or, uh, should I?

No. No one but the preacher
is speaking.

What do you mean?

I mean, we're having the funeral
because that's what you do.

Don't make this
more than it is.

Jean, what do you mean,
"more than it is"?

No, I worked hard
on this eulogy.

I got a tight 25 minutes
here.

I mean, I guess if I lose the
George Brett fishing anecdote,

I could drop
maybe three minutes.

But, uh, no, that sets up
all of act three.

No, I take it back.
I cannot cut anything.

In fact, with laughter
and applause, you know,

it's probably gonna balloon up
to about 30 minutes.

You haven't changed at all.
I knew you'd end up

trying to make today
about yourself.

Just keep your mouth shut.

Let's get this over with.

With any luck,
we can make it to Fuddruckers

before the lunch special
ends.
Wait, Jean.

Why won't you let me
just honor our father?

Because
he doesn't deserve it!

You wanna say something
about Dad,

maybe you should see what
he said about you first.

What do you mean?

This is Dad's goodbye letter
to you.

I wasn't gonna deliver it
because I wanted to protect you.

Mine was horrible,
and I was his favorite.

But if you still want to "honor"
him after you've read this,

knock yourself out.

"Dear Fuck Face.

I never thought I could hate
a child, until I met you."

It gets worse from there.

Oh!

Oh!

We will all miss
Jim Brockmire, Sr. --

husband, father, employee,

a man observed
by all around him.

Born many years ago...

I'm sure it's not that bad.
Let me see it.

Oh, my God.

I can't even believe --
It's so toxic!

Well,
welcome to my childhood.

Jim, do not look at this again.
Do not even hold it.
I know.

I want to stare into
the sun of his cruelty

till it is burned into
my frontal lobe, okay?

I will never, ever again

let time soften my memory
of that man.

Jim...

Can you believe I wanted
to give him a nice eulogy?

I oughta burn his casket down
to ashes, is what I should do.

Not literally.

Jim Brockmire...

What do you think
that is, uh, teak?

Jim enjoyed
the daily things.

Jim, you have a choice.

You could look
at the positive --

Even though
it wasn't a lovefest,

you reconnected
with your sister.

Plus, you and I
are in a better place.

So, you can focus on that.

Or you could focus
on the negative,

go up there,
shit all over your father,

and accomplish
absolutely nothing

except making everything more
painful than it already is.

You're absolutely right.

Jim most assuredly --

Guess I should've given him
a third option.

Yet, here we are, just the same,
uh, to pay --

Bringing in a closer, Preach.
You can hit the showers.

You're relieved, seriously.

Thank you.

I'm sorry, but, um,

if we're gonna say goodbye
to Dad here today,

I just thought, uh,
that somebody should get up here

and utter something that
at least resembled the truth.

I mean, no offense, Preach,
but that was some straight-up

zero-calorie baby food
you were spooning out there.

I have no positive memories
of my father.

Seriously, not one.

He wasn't so much a dad
as he was just this --

this angry creep
who would stalk around the house

on evenings and weekends.

So he tried to find some peace
every day

during what he called
"Tiki Time."

Tiki Time was when he'd go out
to this old bamboo bar

that he had constructed
out in the garage,

and he would throw back Mai Tais
out there.

Now, we never were allowed
to disturb him then

because, as Dad liked to put it,
Tiki Time was paradise.

But one night,
I desecrated Tiki Time

when I went out there to
tell him that he had forgotten

to feed us kids dinner
that night.

So, he stormed back
into the house,

and he nuked up some fish sticks

till they were just
hotter than the sun,

and then screamed into our faces

when we wanted to wait
for them to cool down.

I don't remember anything
after that

except for, well, waking up
in the emergency room,

where Jean and I
had, uh, third-degree burns.

I guess things might've been
easier if Mom had stuck around,

but, you know,
I never blamed her leaving.

Hell, I ran away
the first chance that I got,

uh, which left my sister, Jean,
at home holding the bag.

And by "bag," of course,
I am referring to shithead
down there.

Somehow though, Jean,

y-you came out of that
in better shape than I did.

I don't know how you did that.

I guess it's 'cause
you were wise enough

to surround yourself
with a family of your own.

I mean, don't get me wrong.

I wouldn't trade places with you
if you put a shotgun
in my mouth,

but, uh, no, I still envy you
all the same.

And you were right.
You were right.
I have not changed.

I managed to make this moment
all about myself, didn't I?

But what can I say?
I'm not over my past, obviously,

and still quite trapped by it.

But, you know, very difficult
for scars to heal

when the knife's still stickin'
out of the wound there, huh?

That past isn't really the past,
anyway, is it?

I mean, is it?
Nobody changes.

Nobody actually matures.
I mean, uh, he didn't.

He remained a monster
till the day he died.

And now he even looks like one.

Anywhoodles, Dad's gone.

I guess now it really is
Tiki Time, huh?

♪ Was blind

Drink up.

♪ But now I see

I went with the second option
there.

Okay, all right.

Thank you, Lucy.
That --

Boy, it's so weird where
we're in a place where
that actually --

That just gave me
some comfort.

I still feel, uh,
pretty awful, though.

Would you feel better
if we had sex?

No. What? Are you just --
Are you horny all of the time?

Yes. It's my defining
characteristic.

As much as I'd love
to show you everything

that I learned in
the knock shops of Manila,

my dad's letter is still kind of
stripping the paint

right off of my insides.

So, I-I'm just not sure
I could handle

whatever emotional minefield
that sex with you might be.

Fair enough.

Oh, Jim.

Take care of yourself.

You, too.

♪♪

♪♪

Hey!
You must be Harry, huh?

I-I'm your uncle, Jim.

Look, son, I know life's been
very difficult for ya

growing up Glasscock
and everything.

But, uh, believe it or not,
it's only gonna get worse.

See, in life, you can't ever
really stop the pain.

The best you can hope to do
is just limit it a little bit.

So, for crying out loud,
don't be a Harry.

Be a Harold, all right?
Okay?

Be a Harold!

♪♪

♪♪

Can I get a hug, Jean?

No.

♪♪