The Dessert (2023–…): Season 1, Episode 6 - Sightless - full transcript

Oh!

No!

Huh!

- What are the odds of that?
- One in a million?

-Oh!

Here you go.

That was unexpected!

- Oh, yeah!

Oh, oh!

Hello,
Mommy. I'm a hungry boy!

Me, Mommy?



Oh my God, wait, you're on fire!

- Oh my God!

Not again!

- Grab a water, no, no!
- Drop it, drop it!

Why are you still holding it?

Are you fucking
out of your mind?

Drop it! Drop the dessert!

Help! My eyes!

Patient is 35 with second
and third-degree facial burns,

significant trauma to both eyes,
and his vitals are dropping.

This guy's
eyes are fucked!

Alright, I need tubes
and suction, stat!

He's hemorrhaging, sir!

- Gah... aah!



I got pressure on
the issue, Doctor.

Alright, we're losing
him. I need a defib, now.

No, Nurse, please,
this is not the time!

This man is dying!

Fine, fine, fine.
Okay, thank you.

Thank you all, alright? We
do not have time for this.

I need paddles.

- What the hell?!
- Black forest, your favourite!

There's, uh,
good news and bad news.

The bad news is his
retinas are fried.

He may never see again.

- Oh, God...
- What's the good news?

It's my birthday.

I'm 41!

As you guys know, our sales
have been a little down.

Morale hasn't been great.

But this is Joel, a real-life
improvisational comedian.

He performs weekly
with his improv troupe,

A Flock of Steven Seagals.

Joel's here to get us back
into our groove, right?

Get us a little loose,

and say "Yes!" to our ideas.
Isn't that right, Joel?

- Sure is.
- Yep!

Thank you, Oliver.

Fun fact: improv is
actually the only art form

where everyone's gotta work togetha

to get that final product.

No, it isn't...

Let's just hop
right into the fun stuff!

Okay, look at me.

Now, could someone
from the audience

give me a non-geographical
location, please?

Uh... airport?

Airport. Okay, that's good.

No... Mm-mm...

There's a baby, wah, wah, wah...

No, no, no, no, no, no!

Fuck!

Whoa, Joel!

Maybe calm down on the language.

No, no, no, I just can't
fucking think of anything.

Okay, now think!

Think, you stupid fucking pig!

Fucking pig, greaseball, idiot!

- Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you...
Hey, hey, uh...

What if you're a security agent
and you find something weird

in someone's bag?
That works, right?

- Yeah, yeah, that's good.
- That's good!

Argh! Fuck!

Whoa!

Why didn't I think of
that? That's so obvious!

I'm an idiot!

Yes, and then he could
have found lube in the bag

or something. Oh, shit!

Fuck!

Oh, Joel,
come on, man.

Uh, here's an idea, uh...

No, no more clues!
I'm just thinking!

Just gimme a minute.

You set me up!

You gave me a hard
one on purpose!

Airport is like the easiest
thing in the world, man!

Come on!

No, it's not! It's impossible!

Besides lube, there's
no good ideas!

Whoa!

Alright, everybody,
corporate's closing this branch

and we're, uh... we're all la.

What?!

I'm sorry, I don't
know what to say.

- Oh my God, oh my God.
- What are we gonna do?

- Oh my God, ...
- Whoa, Bummer Town!

Wait...

Bummer Town.

That's it... Bummer Town!

And this town smells like shit.

That's not bad.

And that's improv.

Stee-rike!

Mustard,
relish, or hot dog?

Marry the
hot dog. Obviously.

Hm, I guess it's the only one.

- Stee-rike!
- Let's go, V-Man!

Hit her home!

- Home, run home!

- Go, Janet, go!
- Run home, yeah!

Out!
- What?!

Come on!

She was safe! Are
you blind, Ump?

Actually, I am.

- Oh...
- However, she was clearly out.

The sound of the ball
hitting the leather glove

was well before her foot
made contact with home plate.

Well, it didn't look like that
from where we were sitting.

- She was safe!
- Out!

Whatever. Fuck you!

No obscene gestures
allowed, ma'am.

One more and you're outta here.

Wait, how did you know that I...

How did I know that
you flipped me off?

Quite simple, really.

Each individual finger travels
at its own unique velocity.

The heat emanating off your
body also indicated rage

and aggression; therefore
the sound of the acceleration

of your middle finger from
crooked to perpendicular

was easily discernible from
your four other digits.

Not very sportsmanlike,
I must say.

- Whoa.
- That's impossible.

-At one point, I would
have thought so too.

But while the unfortunate
events surrounding my life

for the last few days
have left me blind,

all of my other
senses are heightened

beyond what I ever
thought possible.

For example, I know you are
currently holding a hot dog

in your left hand,

covered in ketchup
and corn reli.

A good sear on
the dog, if not s,

and a lightly toasted
bun beneath it all.

- How did you know that?
- I could smell it.

Speaking of which,
could I have a bite?

What? No, you
can't have a bite.

That's not what your
mother said last evening.

What?

You see, your mother,
Francis Fitzgerald,

has sexual proclivities

that lean to the
sado-masochistic variety.

So she did indeed ask me

to lacerate her left
shoulder with my teeth

when we engaged in
sexual intercourse,

16 hours and 47 minutes ago.

You son of a bitch!

- Mmm.

Thank you!

Game on!

You've got some on
your face there.

I know!

Hi!

Oh, look how happy Betty looks.

Aww!

- I guess you two are next, huh?
- Uh...

We haven't really, um, talked
about it yet, you know?

Would you all
excuse me for a sec?

- Thanks.
- No, no, no, Jack, don't!

Rachel, it's okay. Really.

Yeah, he didn't know.

No, no, you guys
don't understand.

Lately he's been doing this
thing where he goes around

- to people...
- Get away from my wife!

What the hell is he doing?

- Kaboom! Kaboom!
- Seriously, what are you doing?

He's cartoon-killing
that guy's wife.

Cartoon-kill? What?

You know like Wile E. Coyote
and that ostrich motherfucker?

See, like right now,
he's sawing a big hole

around that woman's chair.

-Can I help you with
something, young man?

- He says it, like,

calms him down or
something. I don't know.

- He studied theatre.
- Oh.

Bye-bye!

Shouldn't we stop him?

No, I dealt with this all
weekend at my cousin's wedding

and I'm not doing it again,
so it's his problem now.

- Rachel!
- Yes?

You promised Jack wasn't gonna
do the cartoon thing today!

Timber!

Do you think I'm
happy about this?

I'm miserable.

This is ridiculous!

Jack?

Stop! You're ruining
my baby shower!

Boom! Pow! Oof!

You're such a dork!
Why don't you...

-Striking an innocent
pregnant woman?

Not on my watch, criminal.

- Do I know you?
- No...

But I know you.

- Who is that?
- Entertainment or something?

I know the smell of the
villainous underbelly

stinking this city to its core,

and I'm here to clean it up.

Look, dude, I think
you should just...

Oh my God.

- Oh my God!
- Oh my God!

- What the fuck?!

That's fucking disgusting!

- Oh my God, oh my God!
- No!

- Oh my God, no, no, no!
- No!

Oh my God, Jack!

- Oh my God!

I may be blind for now,

but I see everything!

Criminals are no
match... for Sightless.

- Oh my God!

He's really fucking dead!

Last one there
is a rotten egg!

Hey, slow down, you
little roadrunner.

Morning, Mr. S! Are we
gonna go fast today?

With these sweaty palms,
I don't think so, Billy.

Now, get on back there,
you little wisenheimer!

You're the best, Mr. S!

You too, sweety!

Mr. Silvestriano, do
you have a minute?

Well, good morning, ladies!

How may I be of assistance?

- Beans, huh?
- Hmph!

Well, my wife's got me on
one of those special diets.

- Ah.
- Hmm, right.

Well, since it's the
last day of school...

And all the kids
love you so much...

A few of the parents
decided to pool together

to get you something special.

Just a little token
of our appreciation.

Really, ladies!

You didn't have to do that!

Oh, it was our
pleasure. Really.

Open it!

Are these Renier Lindhurst
Type M string-back

- driving gloves?
- They are!

The internet says these
ones are really good.

-Yeah, Renier Lindhurst Type M

string-back driving
gloves are...

pretty good! Ha!

- Try 'em on!

-Yeah, get on there, baby!

Well, we hope you like them.

- Is everything okay?
- Hey, Billy.

What did you ask me before?

Are we gonna go fast today?

Oh yeah, Billy. We're
gonna go fast...

Um, Mr. Silvestriano?

This bird's... gotta fly...

Eww!

- Yo-ou far-ted!

"Fart"? I hate that word!

You stink, Mr. Stinky.

This bus smells like
ass because of you!

You're making us puke!

- Your wife doesn't love you.
- Nobody does!

I knew you were a loser!

Gimme the gloves.

Eat shit, dummy!

Ah, what a loser!

You call this a life?

Oh my God, these reek!

Sniff these.

Jesus, these
smell like shit.

Beans make me stinky, man.

Your beard sucks!

Phew!

You're home
early, for once.

Oh, sorry, honey.

It's birthday season.

I don't exactly
have a set schedule.

-Funny, I didn't know
"birthday" was a season.

-Honey, now is not
a good time, okay?

I'm exhausted.

Okay, Todd, when exactly
is a good time, then?

Just not right now. I've
had a long day, okay?

Pfft.

The bank called.

We missed our minimum payment
on our line of credit.

I'll call them in the morning.

I'll tell them Daylight
Savings messed up our payments.

They'll understand. Trust me.

When are you gonna
get a real job, Todd?

- I have a real job.
- Humiliating yourself?

That's a real job?

What exactly is that
stupid catchphrase again,

"It wasn't me!"

What does that mean?

I'm a skunk, Julie!

No, you're a
fucking loser, Todd!

You don't understand.

This is what I'm
meant to be doing.

- What you're meant to be doing?
- Yeah.

They're paying you in paper...

fucking... tickets, Todd!

Well, those "paper
fucking tickets"

put real fucking food on that
goddamn motherfucking table!

Oh, here we go again.

Todd and his "I'm the.

Play another one
next time, will you?

You think I enjoy this?

You think I like getting kicked
in the nuts 18 hours a day,

7 days a week, covered in my own
sweat, smelling my own pre-def?

-Oh, woe is me!

You chose this shit, not me!

You know, you could have
had a really good job

at the post office
like your uncle.

- Fuck him!
- Great ben!

But no, you're too good
for that, aren't you, Todd?

Way better off dressing up
like some fucking skunk idiot

for little morons!

Your problem is you
don't dream anymore.

My art could change the world!

Your art? Your art?!

- Are you fucking kidding me?

You have to be the
most deranged...

Is there
someone in the washroom?

- No.
- I can smell him!

No, there isn't! Nope!

It's not what you think it is.

What the hell are
you doing here?

Oh, uh...

I'm just doing what the
cookie told me, my man.

"Cuck some dorkhole who
does birthday parties."

Hey, it wasn't
me! That's funny.

- See?
- Pfft.

She doesn't get it.

Hey, hey, you! Move!
- Okay, okay!

- Move, you worm!

Nobody fucking move,
or I swear to God,

I blow your fucking brains!

Not so fast, scumbag.

Who the hell are
you supposed to be?

I'm...

Sightless.

You're that superhero
who can't see!

I don't care who
he is! Waste him!

You poor fools.

Let me let you in
on a little secret.

I may be blind for now,

but I see... everything.

Hot dog!

What?

Hot dog.

Someone's got a hot dog here.

It's making my mouth water.

I had a hot dog for
lunch... He's right!

Sit the fuck down!

Yeah, sauerkraut...

Mustard... Two pickles.

Show's over, folks!

Let's make with the cash-ola.

Ugh, nasty!

Oh, geez, I'm pre-deffing!

- I'm a goner!

Pre-deffing?

Yeah, pre-def. Pre-defecation.

It's the sound your ass
makes before you take a shit.

When you die, you shit
yourself! Everybody knows that.

- Ohh, I'm done for!

What the fuck's a pre-def?

It's called a fart!

-No, no, they don't
call it that anymore.

- It's pre-def now.

Yeah, that's what I call it too.

Only losers say "fart."

Well, I'm
no fucking loser!

If that's true, you'll
always call farts

"pre-defs" from now on.

Pre-def?

Huh.

I like that.

Me too.

Well, it's settled, then.

From this day forward,

this gang will refer
to farts as "pre-defs"!

Good for you!

Speak of the devil, It

of some pre-def
coming right about...

No! You don't understand!

My senses are heightened!

Me too!

I beg you! The smell,
it's overpowering!

That one was hot!

My powers are my
greatest weakness!

- No!

Stinky, stinky!
Stinky, stinky!

No! Here comes the shit!

Here comes the... shit!

A billion
dollars worldwide...

Thirteen Oscars...

Double-platinum soundtrack...

And the coveted MTV Movie
and TV Award for Best Hero.

-Hello, Mommy!
I'm a hungry boy!

Ladies
and gentlemen...

This guy's
eyes are fucked.

"Sightless" is
now the most-watched movie

of all time.

-Actually, I am.

Oh, I've
heard the questions,

the ruminating, spoken
in hushed tones.

Why?

Why do all this

just so everyone on the planet
will replace the word "fart"...

- Fart? I hate that word!

with "pre-def"?

-Smelling my own pre-def!

- That's what I call it too.
- Only losers say "fart."

Because we can!

Because we must!

Because without the efforts
of every person in this room,

exerting unending and
sometimes unexplainable control

over this planet and every
single person upon it,

life itself ceases
to have meaning...

to have purpose!

Now, please,

raise your glass
and drink with me.

To the future!

To the future!