Weeds (2005–2012): Season 2, Episode 7 - Must Find Toes - full transcript

Previously on Weeds.

What?

Megan's pregnant.

She hasn't been in school for two days.
They took her to a clinic.

She won't answer my messages.
I just wanted to talk to her.

Just drive. Just drive.

- What's this?
- Filing papers. For my campaign.

- Notarize them, send them in.
- Sure.

Table for three.

And I'm just supposed to trust you?

Oh, you don't have to trust me.



Trust your partner,
who happens to be my partner.

You just open your big, brown eyes
and me, I just fall into shit.

- Be my friend.
- Let go of my fucking hair!

Be my friend.

I have to fuck you.

You don't have the qualities
I look for in a man.

But you do have soft skin.

You think you can take it?

It's not for me.

Hello.

Now, I thought your people didn't eat cows.

I thought yours don't eat cheeseburgers.

Well, we've suffered so much already,
I feel it's my destiny

to induce positive change in my tribe
beginning with the cheeseburger,



progressing to extreme sports
and police work.

Hey, fellows.

Who's a good doggy? Yes, you are.

Hi, doggy. Where did you come from?

Found him on the street.
Doesn't have any tags.

Just this gold necklace.

- Must have belonged to the Armenians.
- Not hairy enough.

- Man, get that beast the fuck out of here.
- You're scaring him.

Its okay, Mr. Sweaters. Yeah,
who's our tough little watchdog?

You are.

Yes, you are.

- Oh, my God!
- Oh, shit.

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God! Oh, fuck! Get it off me!

- Yo! Bad, Mr. Sweaters!
- Off, off!

Cheeseburger? Cheeseburger?

- Sanjay, stick your finger up his ass.
- What?

I read it on the Internet.

If you stick your finger up his ass,
it makes him let go.

Fuck you. Stick your own finger up his ass.

- Somebody stick their finger up his ass!
- Okay.

I'll do it.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

Wow, it works.

Somebody call 911.
I've got dog-doodie hands.

No, no, nobody call 911, all right?

That bitch ate my toes.

Judah.

Oh, hey.

Dad's cologne?

I found it in your bathroom.
I'll put it back, I swear.

It's okay, sweetie.

Just next time,
you might not want to use so much.

What reeks in here?

Shane has a debate.

So, what, you're hoping
to stink out your opponent?

We're leaving in five minutes,

so go pee
and get your notes and things together.

- I need to talk to you.
- What now?

"What now?" Your SAT scores, now.

You barely scored above
what you would have gotten

if you'd only signed your name.

In case you haven't noticed,
I've been a little preoccupied.

You took the SATs weeks before the thing.

- Abortion?
- That.

It had nothing to do
with your lousy performance.

I've spoken to Mr. Weinstock.

- Who?
- Your guidance counselor.

He says you can take the test again
in eight weeks.

I am not taking the test again.

Yes, you are. Silas, you couldn't get
into traffic school with those scores.

So? From what I've seen,

you don't need a college degree
to start your own business, right, Mom?

Hey, Doug.

Oh, shit, what kind of accident?

Yeah, bye.

- Uncle Andy's in the hospital.
- What happened?

I'm not sure.
Something with a dog or sweater.

- Can you take Shane to his debate?
- Yeah, I'll take him.

- Thank you.
- But in your car.

I don't want him stinking up mine.

How is he?

He's doing better
since he got his morphine.

- Did you find my toes?
- His toes?

The dog ate two of his toes
before Sanjay stuck a finger up his ass.

Why was there a dog at the house?

- Hello. I'm Dr. Bertner.
- Nancy Botwin.

- Your husband?
- Brother-in-law.

Is he going to be okay?

Is he a dancer, professional athlete
or foot model?

- None of the above.
- He should lead a normal life.

I wouldn't go that far.

You know, if you'd brought in the toes,
we might have been able to reattach them.

Must find toes.

- Oh, Conrad, where are the toes?
- The dog ate them.

- The dog ate them.
- Well, that's that.

When is he going to be able to go home?

- Does he have insurance?
- Oh, no.

He can go home now.

Hey. I didn't mean to blindside you
with Peter.

- I just knew that if you met him you'd...
- Have no choice.

...see that he wasn't a threat.

I got to go back to the house
and clean up some fucking toe blood.

Dr. Marquette to four west.
Dr. Marquette to four west.

In keeping with the spirit
of tomorrow's local elections,

tonight's topic will be
Electoral College versus popular vote.

Advocating the popular vote,
Master Shane Botwin.

My argument for the popular vote,

George W. Bush.

But that's against the rules.

How am I supposed to argue
when he invokes the name

of the worst president we've ever had
and then just sits?

He didn't follow protocol.

Just go, Gretchen.

This is totally unfair.

I forfeit. You suck.

- Nice job.
- It was a disaster.

What are you talking about?
You made her totally lose her shit.

- That's a win in my book.
- I made her hate me even more.

- Oh, my God, you like that girl?
- I love her.

- Does she know?
- I've never even spoken to her.

I've only kicked her.

- Well, you know what that means?
- What?

- You're gay.
- Shut up. Forget it.

All right, so, you really like this girl?

Here's what you do. I've done it, Dad did it.

Uncle Andy does it all the time,
and sometimes it even works.

What?

- Say something to her.
- Fuck you.

- Just do it. It's not so hard.
- Easy for you to say.

Not really.

All women are evil, lying bitches,

but I'm trying to be
the good big brother here,

so when she kicks the shit
out of your heart,

I'll buy you a beer with my fake ID.

That idiot's going to win.

- People like Doug.
- People are stupid.

They elected you head of the PTA.

Oh, please. I was like Hitler in Munich.

Those dimwits were just itching
for somebody to follow.

You haven't lost yet.

- Give me a clue.
- No, I like to do it all by myself.

Wanna have sex?

A sky-high accessory, ten letters.

Orion's belt.

- Oh, shit, that's totally right.
- Whoopee for me.

Thank you.

- Nancy?
- Back off.

Okay, I'm sorry.

And I hope that you won't let
the little "incident" between us

ruin our friendship.

I have to vote.

Nancy! My friend, my client.

Thanks for showing up for me.

You know what?
I need to review the bond issues again.

I'm going to come back later.

She's going to vote for you.
I'm gonna go cast my ballot.

Vote for yourself.
I'd hate to see you get shut out.

Mr. Wilson.

- Why are you smiling?
- Oh, just wait.

Where's my name?
My name's not on the ballot!

What the fuck?

- What did you do?
- Nothing.

It's just a miracle.

God loves me.

- Where's my name?
- Hey!

Excuse me, sir, only one person
allowed in the booth at a time.

My name's not on the ballot.
Where's my name?

What name would that be?

Doug Wilson or Mr. Fuck Hewson?

You're responsible for this.

I wish that I could take credit for this,
I really do.

Doug, I'm sure
there's a reasonable explanation.

Yes, your wife's a cheating whore.

Write me in. Doug Wilson, write me in.

Oh, wait. Wait, are you really
going to let him do this?

- Doug Wilson.
- Mr. Wilson, I'm sorry.

There's a law
that clearly prohibits any candidate

from campaigning within 300 feet
of a polling place.

Well, I'm not a candidate

because my name's
not on the fucking ballot, asswipe.

- Yeah, "asswipe"?
- I am Doug Wilson, everybody.

- Change only brings problems!
- Come on.

- Doug Wilson.
- Get out of here.

295, 296, 297, 298, 299, 300.

Vote for Doug Wilson,
the write-in candidate!

Change just brings problems.
You know it's true.

Doug Wilson! Who's your pal?
Don't you just hate Celia Hodes?

Celia Hodes has Chlamydia.

- What's that?
- Job applications.

- You already have a job.
- Yes, I do.

Soon, you will, too.

If you don't want to go to college,
work it is.

Not this again.

Starbucks, Costplus and Ben & Jerry's.

Agrestic is just brimming
with job opportunities

for a young man
with a high school diploma.

- Mom, will you sign this?
- What is it?

My letter of resignation
from the debate team.

Oh, this is a proud day for Mommy.

- Why are you quitting the debate team?
- Personal reasons.

Would you like to share
those personal reasons?

- No.
- Don't be such a pussy.

Just go up and talk to her.

- Talk to who?
- None of your business.

You two should talk, mother-son,
and I'll catch you later.

Silas.

Later, I promise.
We'll have a walk or something.

I'm going to school.

Who should you talk to?

- Gretchen.
- And Gretchen's on the debate team?

That's why
you were wearing Dad's cologne.

Look, I already went through this
with Silas.

I'm just going to avoid her
for the rest of the year.

Hey.

I'm not going to let you
off the hook like that.

You have to be brave.

I hated your father when I first met him.

He slept on a futon.

He had a goatee.

He hit on my roommate.

But, over time, I got to know him
and we fell in love.

I'm not saying you and Gretchen
are going to fall in love.

You might not even like each other
if you spend time together,

but you have to give it a shot.

Why do you always have to bring up Dad?

Yael. Shalom.

- How's my little man?
- Oh, God.

Sorry, shooting pains.

Didn't they give you medication?

Oh, I don't believe in painkillers.
They're addictive, you know.

What can I do to make you feel better?

How about letting me pitch
instead of catch this time?

Hello?

Hi, Sid.

Thank you.

It came down to three lousy votes.

Three fucking, lousy votes.

He wasn't even on the fucking ballot.

- You'll get him next time, tiger.
- There's not going to be a next time.

I won.

Hello?

I'll keep my concession speech short.

Fuck you.

Wow, that's brilliant.

Apparently, my husband
is also your speechwriter.

No, I came up with that one all by myself.

I even have it memorized.
Do you want to hear it again? Fuck you.

Fuck you. Fuck you!

Loser.

Speech!

Speech!

I won. I fucking won.

That was not bad.

For a skinny gimp.

I found your gimmel spots, didn't I?

Hey, wait, wait. Hang out.
I thought maybe we'd go again.

I have a life, you know.

I can't spend all day in bed
like some people.

Okay, okay.

- Well, will you come by later?
- I have a lot of work at school.

When do you think you'll be back?
Everyone misses you.

Yeah, about that.

I think God has a different plan for me.

What are you saying?

I'm saying, now that I'm partially toeless,
there's no way I can be sent to Iraq.

So I'm thinking,
God wants me to do something else

besides study for the rabbinate.

I'm thinking maybe
he wants me to open a microbrewery

or day-trade in oil futures.

You can't commit to anything, can you?

Don't say that.

I'm committed to you.
Nothing's changing between us.

I trusted you. I put my job on the line.

I thought you had ruach.

I have tons of ruach! I'm filled with it!

No ruach.

You scrawny, selfish little pig.

I did everything for you.

God! Fuck!

- Quit it.
- That dog should have bitten your dick off!

Yael!

Yael. Shit.

Who am I?

Yesterday, I was Councilman Doug.
I could park anywhere.

I had cutsies in every line,
the bank, the movie theater.

Hop Fong's.

They gave me the three-item combo
for the price of two.

I got to drive the fire truck.

And now,

I got nothing. Zilch, nada.

I'm just another certified public asshole.

I'm sorry, Doug.

- It's not your fault.
- Actually, it is.

I never filed your intent-to-run papers.

They were on my desk at work.

I had them all filled out and ready to go,
but then I got fired

and I threw them into a box
when I cleared out my office.

And then I got Tasered and I...

I guess I just forgot about them.

I don't know what to say. I am really sorry.

What? I said I was sorry.

I completely fucked up,

but now it is time for us
to pull ourselves together

and do some serious soul-searching.

- Jesus!
- You fucked up.

Why do I have to soul-search?

- You've ruined my life.
- But...

Get the fuck out of my office.

- I've got pot. Amazing pot.
- Get out of my office.

So, here we are. What's your plan?

- I want in.
- In on what?

I want us to do this together.
I think we would be good together.

Are we going to start a band?

- I want to help you sell pot.
- No. No way. Next plan.

There is no next plan.

I can't get into a decent school.

I'm not working at Starbucks
jerking lattes for minimum wage,

so it's the only thing
that really makes sense.

I'll tell you what makes sense,
going to a junior college, doing well,

transferring to a decent university
makes sense.

Face it, Nancy, I'm no genius.

I'm not going to grow up
and be a doctor or a lawyer,

but I am good at other things,
and I could help you.

Silas, I will never, ever, ever
let you get involved in what I do.

- I just won't!
- I already am involved.

This conversation is over.

- You're such a fucking hypocrite.
- Yes, I am. So live with it.

You know, you think
you're protecting me, but you're not.

You're not protecting me
from a goddamn thing.

Nancy.

Wait, darling.

- Oh, God. Nancy, I left you a message.
- What did it say?

Hi.

It said that I have Tim.

I have my son tonight.

Yes, Tim. Hi, Tim.

What's she doing here?
I thought it was just going to be us.

Don't be rude.

- I'm sorry.
- Come on.

Bad timing. I should be going.
Nice to see you again, Tim.

- Peter, I'll call you.
- No, no, no.

You should stay. Tim and I were just going
to play a game of carcass or something.

Carcassonne.

It's inspired by the medieval town
of Carcassonne in southern France,

which is famous
for its formidable city walls and...

That sounds so exciting.

You didn't even let me explain.

I'm just not really very good at games.

Well, my mom is.
I guess she's a lot smarter than you.

Yeah, I wouldn't doubt that for a second.

Go set up the game.

- Sorry.
- No, I'm... It's my fault.

I should have checked my messages.

He goes back to his mom in the morning.
Dinner tomorrow night?

Great.

Dad! Are we going to play or not?

Just a sec.

You're twice as smart as his mom.

Conrad.

Can I join you?

It's your house.

It's yours, too.

No, I'm just the night watchman.

- You're my partner.
- Whatever you want to call me.

- I came here...
- How is it I can live for 36 years,

pack everything that's important to me,
and fit it into a duffel bag?

- You packed a duffel bag?
- It's in my car right now.

- I came here to say...
- You came to say you're sorry again?

You can still walk away if you want.

Nancy, don't take me to dinner
with your husband one night

and then tell me I can walk the next.
I know I can walk.

I know that.

Are you going to walk?

I'd be all alone.

- You got your husband.
- That's a business arrangement.

You got your friends.

Your kids.

Shit, I got a fucking duffel bag.

- Sometimes I wish that's all I had.
- No, you don't.

Sometimes.

I love my kids.

I love my kids more than anything,
but, sometimes,

I think what it would have been like
if they died when Judah died.

What it would be like not to have to worry.

To be only responsible for me.

And free.

How nice that might feel.

How horrible is that?

I'm an awful,

horrible person.

I can't go home stoned.

- It's okay.
- I can't be stoned in front of my kids.

Two hours.

You'll be clean in two hours.

And this shit's going to have your name
on it. It'd be kind of weird not to try it.

At least once.

- I love my kids.
- I know you do.

They're my life.

One hit takes the shit and rolls it back.

Two takes it out the house.

You packed a duffel bag?

If I was going, I'd be gone.

What are we going to do for two hours?

Watch the grass grow, literally.

Sounds like fun.

- Dean?
- Yes, Councilwoman Hodes?

You're going to have to stop smoking pot.

I can't have you getting busted.

I am making Agrestic a drug-free zone.

Warn your dealer.