Mom (2013–…): Season 1, Episode 12 - Corned Beef and Handcuffs - full transcript

I'm thinking about going vegan.

Really? Why?

Diet, health,
bashing for animals.

I am not happy with
how my urine smells.

Then stop smelling it!

Oh! Don't look!

Don't smell, don't look...
you're bossy today!

- It's not the Chef from your restaurant?
- Yeah.

- He's kind of cute.
- No! He's not!

If you wanna know,
work is terrified with him.

How scary can he be?
He's carrying a purse.



Hey! Hello there.

Damn!

Hi!

Chef Rudy, good to see you.

Good to see you, too...
I wanna say... Meredith?

- Christy.
- Right. And your mother Bonnie.

I work with you every day,
and her you remember?

Does a thirsty man forget
a toll glass of water?

May I join you?

Sure.

So, my daughter tells
me everyone at work

is frightened of you.

Ooh, that's very sweet.
Thank you.

So, what kind of naughtiness



is the mother-daughter
team up to today?

Don't go there.

Mmm, too late.
Mental snapshot. Click.

We've just come back
from the drugstore,

where we bought some, you know...

- girl stuff.
- Click.

What are you up to today?

Oh, just blowing
the dust off my spyder.

- Beg pardon?
- I have a vintage Porsche Spyder.

She's high-strung, impulsive,

and if I don't ride her hard

at least once a day,
she misbehaves.

I'm the same way.

Click.

Aw, all out of film.

Yeah. I will bid you adieu.

A la prochaine.

Yeah, I just know "adieu."

Tell me you haven't tapped that.

- Of course not.
- Good.

1x12 - Corned Beef and Handcuffs

Can I ask you a little friendly advice

vis-?-vis my personal affairs?

Oh. Yeah. Sure.

Great. What are my chances
of bedding your mother?

What?

I felt there was chemistry between us.

But I feel that with a
lot of women, often with

disastrous results.

Fun fact: Pepper spray
tastes nothing like pepper.

All right, look...

I don't want to get
involved here, but...

I will tell you she was
quite taken with you.

Oh, I knew it.

When I walked out of that coffee
shop, my testicles were on fire.

You might want to get those looked at.

That's what I'm trying to do.

Be a dear, get her on the phone for me.

Okay, but I got to warn
you about my mother.

There's a little crazy
up in them thar hills.

Mm-hmm.
Well, you know what they say,

"nothing soils the sheets like crazy."

How are you allowed to touch food?

Hi, Mom, it's me.

I'm probably going
to regret this, but...

He's right here.

Hey, you.
Been ridden hard yet, today?

Aah, clickety-click, click, click.

Is Grandma having dinner with us?

- No, she's got a date.
- Cool. You know the guy?

- I do.
- So, do you think they'll hit it off?

I'm thinking murder-suicide.

It's so weird to think
of your Grandma dating.

My Grandma weighs 300
pounds and has one leg.

Well, doesn't mean there's
not someone

- out there for her.
- That's true.

My Grandfather would sure
love it if she met somebody.

Oh, I'll get it.

Well, Grandma will be easy
to spot at the wedding.

- Well, you must be Violet.
- No, I-I'm Luke.

Well, you're very pretty, nonetheless.
Bonnie here?

Uh, she's getting ready.
Come on in.

- Welcome.
- Thank you.

Well, I had you pegged
for a house on wheels.

That's the dream.
Can I get you something to drink?

I wouldn't mind a glass of Pinot Grigio.

I wouldn't mind a bucket of Gin.

But, uh, all we've got
is tap water and milk.

Mmm. I'll pass.
What am I smelling?

- I made dinner.
- No, that can't be it.

Do you have pets?

It's corned beef and cabbage.

Oh, yes, poor people food.

My apologies.
It smells delicious.

Ready to go?

Oh, well, there's a tasty morsel.
Yum, yum.

- Thank you.
- He's gonna eat her?

- Shall we?
- Did you bring the Spyder?

- Freshly lubed for your pleasure.
- Ooh! Bye, family.

- Have fun.
- Are we poor people?

Of course not.
Now, eat your boiled meat.

Wow, that was quite an education,

watching a master Chef
shop for groceries.

Well, I think it's
important to feel and smell

the things we put inside us.

I got to tell you, if I'm smelling it,
I'm not feeling it.

So, um, what are we having?

Well, it's a tasting menu that I call

"seven small explosions in your mouth."

Seven, huh?
Let's see.

Salty, sweet, savory, sour...

- help me.
- Crunchy, creamy and Rudy.

Ooh.
What's Rudy taste like?

Pistachios, I've been told.

Mm.

But the real magic happens
when we start to combine flavors.

For example,
take a simple cherry tomato.

Squirt a little aged balsamic
vinegar into its fleshy center.

"Cherry," "squirt," "fleshy."

- You can't help yourself, can you?
- It's very hard.

Mmm!

That's not sweet like a
tomato or sour like vinegar.

Exactly.
It's a third thing that didn't exist

until one was driven
deep inside the other.

And yes, I know what I just said.

Where'd you go to culinary school?

- Can you keep a secret?
- Of course.

A Denny's in Boston.

I worked the late shift;
there's a lot of time to screw around.

- Where's the Boston accent?
- I dropped it.

Hard to charge 60 bucks

for lobster chowder with capers.

Ah. Yeah.

Well, where are my manners?
Can I get you a glass of wine?

- No, thank you. I don't drink.
- Never?

- Never.
- Impressive.

How is it that you have
not killed yourself?

I'm more of a homicide girl.

Well, then, as a good host,
I won't drink, either.

Ah, who am I kidding?

- So, why do you abstain?
- I'm allergic to alcohol.

Every time I drink,
I break out in handcuffs.

Mm.

Pity.

I have a rather remarkable collection
of wine and handcuffs.

You know, next to great food,

beautiful women and vintage cars,

wine is what brings
me the most happiness.

No, actually, it's women, then food...

No, wine, women...
ah, I left out pills.

- It's pills, wine...
- I get the point.

Let's see how sophisticated
your palate is. Hmm?

Put on this blindfold.

Well, I usually charge 50
bucks extra for that, but okay.

I knew I liked you.

- And... you ready?
- Do it.

- What do you taste?
- Mmm. Fig?

Very good.
Now, try this.

Mmm.

Eel?

And here comes the pistachios.

Morning.

- Walk of shame?
- Stride of pride.

Did you consider, for even a minute,
to go slow with this guy?

See a movie,
shop at the flea market,

text him a picture of your boobs.

You know, like a lady.

- I did think about it.
- And?

I chose instead to do him
on the floor of his kitchen.

What is wrong with you?
Don't you have any self-respect?

Oh, please. Self-respect is for
women who spend Saturday night

alone with their
showerhead set on pulse.

That's a terrible thing to say.

And I happen to have
a stiff neck from work.

Did it ever occur to you
that what happened last night

between me and Rudolph was the
start of something wonderful?

Oh, wake up!

It's a one-night stand
between a middle-aged alcoholic

- and a sex addict.
- How dare you call me middle-aged?

And it was not a one-night stand.

Rudy and I are two ingredients,
which, when combined,

create a third thing which...
never existed before.

What the hell are you talking about?

I don't know!
It's a tomato thing!

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I'm gonna go take a shower.

To clean myself.

You'll never be clean!

So, are we gonna talk about it?

Well, I was gonna be a gentleman

and spare you the details,
but as you wish.

Your mother is sleek yet powerful,
like an enormous greyhound.

Yeah, great.
Not what I want to talk about.

I... I just want to put it out there

that no matter where your
relationship goes with her,

you and I maintain
a professional relationship here.

Okay, two things wrong
with that, Meredith.

First of all, you and I don't have
a professional relationship.

I'm a world-class Chef,
and you are a waitress.

And no offense, but I would
be just as happy to put my food

on a tiny toy train that
choo-choos into the dining room.

And secondly,
I have absolutely no plans

to pursue a relationship
with your mommy.

What?

I thought the two of
you made "a third thing".

With a tomato.

No, that's just my rap when I'm
trying to filet some panties.

Oh.

So, you're not planning
on seeing her again?

Oh, god, no.
Well, never say never.

Can't have a Russian hooker every night.

I don't believe this.
What kind of a man are you?

Well, selfish, narcissistic,

emotionally crippled by
a cold and distant mother.

You know, the usual.

She's gonna be devastated.

Well, then you better
break it to her gently.

I'm not gonna tell her.

Wow, that seems cruel.
But your call.

- What's going on?
- That pig slept with my mother.

Welcome to the club.

- Hey.
- Hey.

- Roscoe asleep?
- Yup.

- What'd you do tonight?
- What do you care?

Oh, come on.
I'm sorry about this morning.

Really?
So, you admit that Rudy and I

are capable of having
a meaningful relationship?

Well...
I admit that I love you.

All right, what's going on?

Rudy's done with you.

Well, why are you
telling me instead of him?

Because...

he was emotionally
crippled by his mother.

And, you know...
he's a giant douche.

- Wow, so I completely misread him.
- I'm so sorry.

No, you warned me.
I'm a big girl.

I should have known better.

Look at me, giving myself a pedicure

so that jerk could suckle
on a pretty red toe.

Is that his thing?

Oh, yeah, he's got a mouth
like a Chinese finger trap.

My fault, I asked.

All right, I'm gonna
take a quick shower.

Say hi to your "boyfriend."

I would, but after he saw
you naked, we broke up.

- Are you gonna be all right?
- Oh, yeah.

Not gonna do anything crazy?

Oh, come on, go take a shower.

Okay.

It's like she doesn't know me at all.

Yes, I want a medium meat lover's
pizza with cheese in the crust.

Yes, and some crazy bread.

- Hello, Rudolph.
- Bonnie.

How'd you get in my house?

Oh, please. Who sleeps with a man
and doesn't steal his spare keys?

- Okay. What do you want?
- What I want is to hurt you.

But not physically, because...
you might like that.

But on an emotional level,
like you hurt me.

No, you are barking up
the wrong tree, sister,

because I stopped feeling years ago.

Really?
We'll see.

Hmm.

"1957 Ch?teau Latour."
Ooh, sounds fancy.

Thank you.

And for my next trick,

I will attempt to juggle
three bottles of...

ooh, Montrachet.

Oh, ooh, ooh.

Aw.
I'm not very good.

Okay, I lied.
I didn't just get clean.

Mom?

Mom?

Oh, damn it!

No.

And this Mouton Rothschild
is for little Jimmy,

who's sick in the hospital.

Please, no more.

And this Ch?teau Montelena

is for all the wine snobs
and their nutty top notes.

Enough! Stop!

I can't take it anymore.

Good.
Come to me.

Oh, my god, you're magnificent.

Now what?

Suckle.

Hello?

Oh, my god, I'm too late.

Ah, ah, oh, yeah, Bonnie,
right there, wicked hard!

Who the hell is that?

- Mmm.
- Oh, my god.

This duck p?t? is so much
better than corned beef.

Yeah, and the house won't
smell like a thousand egg farts.

Hello.

Oh, hi, Chef Rudy.
Thanks for the picnic basket.

Yeah, I know it's not for me.

What's up?

Hang on, let me see if she's here.

She's not here.
Can I take a message?

Oh, s-slow down, let me grab a pen.

Go ahead.

"The... the dark, violent turn

our love play took
last night haunts me""

Wait, say again?

"The wine cork will remain where it is

as a sign of my commitment".

All right, I'll be sure
she gets the message.

Of course I won't tell
anyone at the restaurant.

Bye-bye.

I think someone's sweet on you.