Kidding (2018–…): Season 2, Episode 6 - The Death of Fil - full transcript

After an international incident, Jeff, Deirdre, Will and Seb attend a funeral at sea.

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Previously on Kidding...

Do you believe
you could turn back time?

That's absurd.

I think we should fuck.

I serve a higher
moral authority:

the children of Japan.

Stop! Stop! Stop!

Yes! Yes!

Scott is entitled
to half.

What is divorce?

Divorce is when
a husband and a wife



decide they don't want to be
married to each other.

See you at the bottom.

Divorce is for the best.

No!

Please!
Please, no!

You got divorced
on national television

before an audience
of mostly children.

Now, do you still think
that was "for the best"?

I do.

Well, what about
the critics who argue

that you singlehandedly
have broken up more homes

than anyone
in the whole of humanity?

Homes don't break.

They change,



like people,

which I truly believe
is for the best.

But what about what happened
in the Philippines?

Was that for the best?

I'm sorry.

What-what happened
in the Philippines?

You don't know what happened?

Here.
Here, here.

No!

Please!
Please, no!

I wasn't aware
of this incident.

But do you feel responsible
for the death of Phil?

What did you say?

Excuse me one second.

Do you feel responsible

for the death
of Filipino Pickles?

They threw him off a roof.

He landed
on an ice cream vendor.

Is the ice cream vendor okay?

He may never walk again.

So there's a chance
he could walk again?

No.

Where's the funeral?

There isn't one.

Philippines won't let
Ginoo Pickles' body

be buried
on their soil, so...

...they have
to bury him at sea.

Now you want my advice?

A man is dead...

a man I hired!

I didn't say "advice."
I said "read."

I want your read.

My read is, I was right

about this listening doll,

this death-threat-
receiving machine.

Do you want to send a message?

No, I do not!

Calm down.
Have a seat.

Where?

There is nowhere to sit

in this entire office.

Nowhere.

I thought I had one chair!

No!

No chair.

And look at this mess.

Do you want a new iPhone

but your money's all tied up
in your home?

Then you need
a reverse mortgage.

Trust me.
It's not a scam.

Unlocking the hidden equity
in your home is Snaggle-rific.

I'm Stacy Keach,

and Snagglehorse is right.

Together, we're gonna take you
on a trail ride

through the land
of fiscal empowerment.

Plus, it's just common sense

that anything in reverse

is always twice as fun
as doing it the normal way.

The whores have stolen
the children, Deirdre,

on your watch.

Fili-Pickles is dead.

And they're going
to bury him at sea

like some
Pickle bin Laden.

You want my advice?

Do not let Jeff bury that man,

and bring back
my leather couch.

How do you nap?

I don't nap, Dad!

And it's not my fault
the Philippines

enforce some militant brand
of Catholicism.

The divorce is on you, though.

Not blaming, just saying.

You do that a lot, you know.

What?

Mistake an opportunity

to be a good father

with an occasion
to shame me.

Every now and then,
just so you know,

I could use
a thumbs-up from you,

since we both know
that "Good job, Dee Dee,"

is too hard to say.

If you want to fix this,

you have to think of Jeff
as a child.

You have to discourage him.

It's fine.
I know what to do.

I told my daughter
that Daddy and I

were just getting
a second house,

but now she knows
it's divorce.

My mom
broke up with my dad

because of the song you sang.

Wife waiting for me
when I get home.

Ambushes me,
says Mr. Pickles is right.

She took everything
but this doll.

You broke up my home, asshole.

I'm gonna fuck you up so bad,
Pickles.

- Hi.
- Hey, pal.

I think I left
my passport here.

Ah!

Finally going
on vacation, huh?

I have to bury
a Filipino Pickle.

Oh.

Well, that's, um...

I'm glad you're here.

Uh, question.

Would you ever coinvest
in a breedable affenpinscher?

They are reliable show dogs,

loyal, curious,
famously amusing.

If that's an invite
to trot the circuit,

I feel a team forming.

I support it.

Hey, hey,
second question,

unrelated,
equally important,

if not more so.

Uh, I'm taking Jill and Will
to Hersheypark this weekend.

'Cause I want
to propose to Jill.

What do you think about that?

Um...

I think...

Does, uh, Will have
to be there to witness it?

I mean,

I'd like him to be.

Oh, sure.

This hug is complicated

but...

- genuine.
- Thank you, man.

Hey, I loved
the divorce episode.

Thanks.

I think it's what killed
the Filipino guy.

Mm.
Can't win 'em all.

Liver brothers forever!

Hersheypark this weekend, huh?

I need to get my passport.

Hey, are you and Peter

investing in a show hound?

He has his heart set
on an affenpinscher.

But little does he know

that I have my hand
on the tail

of a horse-haired schnauzer
named Wunderbar.

Big, thick whiskers

and a scrotum you could
wind your watch to.

You have a gift, you know?

You tried to manslaughter him,

and now you're going halfsies
on a schnauzer.

I mean, to be fair,

we haven't committed
totally to a breed.

Great guy, Peter.

I like him.

Enjoy the chocolate park.

I don't know if I can go.

I'm supposed to work
a Sunday shift.

Oh, no, no, no.

You should
take the time off.

No one ever regrets a vacation.

Passports are in that thing
in the closet.

Wait, you know what?

I'll just grab 'em.

The-the closet's a mess.

- Everything okay?
- Yep!

They are right here.

Not gonna ask me
where I'm going?

Jill,
can you spot me on the ladder?

Hopefully somewhere relaxing.

Sorry.

When my parents
are upset,

they only speak Tagalog.

What were they yelling about?

I guess your dad
killed a guy?

Hmm?

Ooh, Will!
Win me some Skitties!

Yeah, Will,
win her some Skitties.

No, I'm okay.

I don't want this.

They're Skittles,
not Skitties.

My sorrys.

Your what?

If you guess how many
are in the "vahse"...

- "Vayse."
- ...we get all the Skitties.

Why do you want these?

Hmm.

I'm gonna say...

if one Skittie occupies
a full cubic centimeter

and the volume
of your Skittie container

equals pi times the radius
times the height...

6,765.

6,765 Skittles.

Just write that down.

Enjoy.

Taste the motherfucking
rainbow.

Wait.

Are you sure
that's the number?

Fuck you, Will.

Fuck you, Cassidy.

I think I'm magic.

Go on.

So you know that old
library book I got

on math and mysticism
and the universe?

Well, when I saw my mom
hand my dad the divorce papers,

I, uh-I read about
how to turn back time

so they'd get back together.

Uh, are you guys
drinking drugs?

We're having high tea.

Long live the queen.

I think what I did
is really working.

This is a beautiful effort
on your part,

but your dad got divorced
on national TV.

That doesn't matter.

My parents are still
technically single.

I know it's hard
to accept, bud, but...

10946.

That was the address
of the kid who had Phil's eyes.

6,765 was the number
of Skittles in the vase.

This can't just be
a coincidence.

This is the universe talking.

No, this is coincidence.

Plus, those dates
are going forward in time,

not backwards.

If you're looking
for a sign from God,

those numbers
would need to indicate

reverse temporal momentum.

I disagree.

See, the numbers do go down

when you treat them
as numbers, not dates.

I'm confident Will
is turning back time.

Please, explain more.

These numbers, fellow dudes,

are a Fibonacci sequence.

What's that?

Fibonacci numbers are
the magic numbers in nature

that determine
the order of everything,

from flower petals
to stripes on a tiger.

They're God's numbers.

And they're counting backwards.

I mean, you asked God
to turn back time.

This is the countdown.

You hacked space and time.

Whoa.

Uh, Will?

Your dad is here
to pick you up.

It's working.

He picks me up all the time.

Will, we gotta go.

We gotta catch a plane.

Where are we going?

The middle
of the South China Sea.

Mom's wondering where I am.

Tell her the truth.

You have a pretty cool job.

You know, one day, this could
be your pretty cool job.

What do you mean?

I've handpicked
three of the kindest,

most selfless people
from all over the world,

including Herr Gherkin
von Deutschland back there...

...to protect and nourish
the world's children.

Pickles are men and women

selected for
their high moral caliber,

a parliament of the righteous

who don't drink, use drugs,

invoke bad
or discouraging language,

and they don't have sex

unless they're in
a loving relationship.

Like priests?

Yeah.

But for children.

I see that same
goodness in you.

I see that potential
to shape the world.

Thanks.

No matter what happens
with your mom and I,

I'll always be your father.

And you'll always be both

a Piccirillo...

...and, if you want...

a Pickles.

We are a family.

Welcome to that family.

Can Pickles
do magic tricks?

You can be the first.

Want me to tie that?

I know how.

Is that the crew
from 60 Minutes?

They've seen him
at his worst.

They should see him
at his best.

I'm sorry
for what I said earlier.

You're doing a better job
than I expected you to.

Why do you have
to qualify that?

See you at the bottom.

We offer this prayer
for our dear loved one,

Ginoo Pickles,

who has left this world
and is returning to you.

As we commit this man
to the sea,

the water will fill
the barrel's bunghole...

Yes, that's really
what it's called.

...and slowly sink
our beloved friend

to his final resting place

on the floor
of the sanctuary of the sea.

A devoted husband, father...

Traitor.

A devoted father...

Murderer.

...and husband

who acknowledged,
by the actions that he took...

Uh-oh.

What?

I'll meet you
in the life raft.

We have to get up
every day

and take a leap of faith.

Leap?

He was thrown off a roof!

Señor Pepinillo, please.

We are contractually obligated
to repeat what you say.

When you speak,
you are speaking for all of us.

Will you not stop
until you get all of us killed?

That's right!

Smorgas Gurka,
that's not true.

And you don't have
to honk like that.

You don't mean that...
Chinese Pickles.

Uh, uh...

I'm sorry.
I forgot your name.

His sister
touched my brother's penis!

Now he is missing.

I don't even know
if he is alive.

What?
No, I-I...

All right, who did that?

Who threw that?
Who threw that?

We all have to take
a "calm me down" breath.

How about
a "go fuck yourself" breath?

Stop!

Stop!

Stop it!

Shut up, kid.

This is not who we are.

This is not who we are!

If you are not a Pickle,

then I am not a Pickle.

Señor Pepinillo,
por favor, no.

Sí.

Coward.

Dad!

- What do we do?
- Look!

I found a crate of vodka!

Didn't you hear?

Their god is dead,

priests are thirsty,

and this ship is
about to dock in Gomorrah.

No one can help us now.

Vodka for everyone!

No.
No.

I'm sorry I brought you
on this trip.

I'm not.

I think I finally
killed somebody.

No.

You didn't do anything wrong.

You told the truth,

in song with puppets.

Gravity killed him.

Thanks for saying that.

Dad, I know how this
is going to sound, but...

it's going to be okay.

All of it.

I think I know how I can put
everything back the way it was.

Mom's getting remarried.

What?

Peter is gonna propose.

Actually,

it's probably happening
right now.

No!

Who wants to see a magic trick?

I will now

make this can of beer

disappear.

No!

No, no!
No!

Inappropriate.

Hey!

No.
No drinking.

Look out below!

Ah!

Pardonnez-moi.

Peanuts do not go
to space, Deirdre.

They are legumes.

Oi, and Guitar Gary

will never possess
the boundless joy

nor the rough-and-tumble wit
of Ukulele Larry.

We had to adapt.

There was not a lot
we could do,

given the time constraints

of a global
production schedule.

Is called a prenup.

It is not rocket science.

And if it was rocket science,

it would not be performed
by a legume!

Legumes can perform
all sorts of tasks!

Maybe if you had performed
a few more tasks,

your husband
would not have left you.

Is this glue?

Are you gluing again?

It's sunscreen.

So the rumors are true.

She glues.

We are a giraffe!

Fuck all of you!

Fuck you!

Is this waterproof?

Uh, I don't know.

- Hmm.
- That's a good question.

Let me see.

Anything else?

Ugh.

No.

You're very cute.

Thank you.

I find you attractive as well.

I'm sorry to hear about
what happened to your brother.

We were close.
I miss him.

He could puppet a horse
with his genitals.

Maybe, uh, one day you, too,

could puppet a horse
with your genitals.

No, not me.

I didn't even want this job.

But the Japanese Pickle Code

is a byzantine web
of obligation.

If a Pickles-san goes missing,

the next of kin
must assume the role.

They dragged me out of bed
and put the tie on me!

Is it true
that all Pickles-sans

have to take
a vow of chastity?

I took a vow of chastity?

You know, my first time
in a vessel like this,

we rescued 2,000 children
off the coast of Saigon.

Ooh.
A navy man.

Sebastiano Piccirillo.

I know we've met,

but I like to watch my name
travel up a woman's spine.

I'm sorry, but we were having
a flirtatious conversation.

These hands once pushed
a helicopter into the sea.

Imagine what they can do
to a female body.

My name is Pickles-san.

You touched my brother's penis.

Prepare to die.

He did not give you consent!

He wanted it!

When are they getting married?

I don't know.
I don't know.

So there's a chance you and mom
can still work things out?

No, that was never
part of the plan.

You two still love each other.

I signed the papers.

Those are just papers.

If she marries someone else,
it's really over.

It's really been over
for a while.

Because you didn't try
hard enough.

You should have been
trying to win her back.

You should have been trying
to keep this family together.

I tried.

I don't want you to try.

I want you to fight!

Hit him with your car again.

No, you don't want that.

Get away from me!

Will!

- It was all working!
- Will.

Until today,
it was all working.

Will.

You raped my brother!

He was a good man!

He did not give you consent!

Dad.

- Dad, are you in there?
- Answer me.

- Dad!
- Are you the Yakuza?

Answer me!

Are you the Yakuza?

Smorgas Gurka?

Sucky-sucky boat-boat.

What's wrong?

She raped my brother
and ruined my life.

What did you say?

Nothing.

Pull!

Get away from me.

- No, please!
- Murderer!

Murderer! Murderer!

Murderer! Murderer!

Murderer! Murderer!
Murderer!

Murderer! Murderer!

Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!

Murderer! Murderer!

Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!

You killed the magic!