Weeds (2005–2012): Season 7, Episode 11 - Une Mère Que J'aimerais Baiser - full transcript

Previously on "Weeds"...

I can't take this.
Not now.

What happened to the girl
begging me for 60 pounds?

She has competition muscling in.

I'm exposed on this one.

I owe now, so it's
kind of both our problem.

The S.E.C. knows
your fund is a Ponzi scheme.

They're gonna come after you.

So we're cooking the books?

Klein was the cash guy.

We need the money.
I will get it.



Shane's not involved.

Well, he's asked
about Pouncy House.

It's my older son, Silas.

What's his connection with them?

He's just sleeping with some girl, Emma.
She's the boss.

Shane just blindly just follows
his older brother.

You asking for help?

A call comes in,
Alex takes a code,

the code goes into the brain,
where it becomes a sale.

You have the better pot.

But you have the better
distribution system.

Fine.
Fine.

Fine.

One bust.



Call off the cavalry.
I've solved our problem.

Hi, it's Nancy.
Leave your message.

Thought you might want to know...

I solved our problem.

No.

It's already done.
I've agreed to it.

I'm running it past you
as a courtesy.

I gave her my word.

And the word is "no."

What's wrong with your mom?

Merging is the only way to go.

With our supply lines and --
and her customer base --

You mean our customer base.

Footnote, they were my customers
before you stole them.

Footnote, they're about to be
my customers again.

Deal's off.

Your mom clearly has
the controlling interest here

and she's a bitch.

When I need to be.
You want to try me?

Emma!

Let her go.

I thought I made this
pretty clear.

I'm not your employee anymore.

And when I decide
that something's right for us,

I expect you to back me up.

Where is all this macho bullshit
coming from?

You used to be so sweet.

You mean "stupid."

That is not at all what I meant.

Every time you tell me
to do something,

you get this condescending look
on your face.

Your mouth starts configuring
into this little smirk.

You mean "contorting."

Joke. Sorry.

This is a ridiculous
conversation.

You're a very bright kid.

That's exactly
what I'm talking about.

I'm a grown man.

Okay. No.

I'm your mother!

To me, you're a kid --
always will be. Sorry.

And just so you know,

I don't want anything to do
with that girl.

Neither do you, trust me.

I got to go.

It's the smart move.

Companies merge, and then
they destroy the competition.

Bigger is better.

She won't listen to anybody else.

Total fucking control freak.

She won't say it to my face,

but she thinks because Lars
is a fucking idiot

that I must be, too.

Who's Lars?

My dad.

No, he's not really my dad.
My real dad was someone else.

He's my biological dad.

I guess that's my real dad,
though, right? Fuck.

Is he really an idiot?

His teeth are brighter
than he is, you know?

Ever been to therapy?

I already fucking know.
It's all about my mom.

So come work for me.

No offense,

but I'm not gonna trade in
one boss for another.

My "loyal soldier" days are over.

So what are you gonna do?

I don't know.

I'll figure something out.

Thanks for the offer, though.

Always on the table...

if you want it.

I'd rather have you on the table.

Shane, where's Silas?

I don't know.
Why?

He's pissed at me.

He's pissed at everybody.
It's impotent rage.

From me hooking up with Pilar.

Let's not talk about that...
ever again.

Deal?

Anyway, I'm just...worried Silas
might do something stupid.

Good luck with that.

You ever been to the Hamptons?

The Hamptons? Huh.
I've been to the Berkshires,

the Poconos, the Catskills --
Loved the Catskills.

When I was a kid,
Lenny would stop there

on the way
to the Saratoga race track

to hustle gin games
off the Balinsky brothers.

Herbie, Hymie, and Hershey --
menswear magnates.

Or was it Hangers?

Either way, it's --

...terrible card players.

Lost my virginity
at Grossinger's resort

to Alana Spiegel.

We were playing "Clue."

And when she suggested
it was Mrs. Peacock

with the lead pipe
in the ballroom, well,

I took the hint
and...became a man.

I was really just looking
for a "yes" or a "no."

No, never been.

Well, Klein left
this awesome vacation house

in East Hampton,

and Whit and I are gonna throw
this big, fancy party,

try to bring in some
heavy hitters into the fund.

I need you to pretend to be
an investor

who made a fortune off of us.

Like bringing a hot woman
to a bar

to help pick up other hot women.

Be my hot woman, Andy.

Fleecing New York's upper crust
while they're on vacation

is a Botwin family tradition.

I'm going with you.

Great. You can pretend to be
my trophy wife.

No trophy-wife
pretending.

Drug-selling
to people with money.

I need to pay Demetri back.

Come on, Nance.

These are well respected
members of high society.

They do coke.

How are you?

Oh.

See? Those guys
look like hebes.

You're safe.

Guys, we're in Long Island,
not 1960s Georgia.

Fisher!

Tillerman!

Hey.

Rocketman?
Holy fucking crap.

How long has it been?

Thanks for the invite, Fish.
This is Nancy.

Girlfriend? Wife?

Mistress.

Uh, neither.
Friend. Hi.

Fisher Adams.
Nice to meet you.

You catch up
with your lost boys, here.

I'm gonna wander.

Fish, this is Bill Sussman.

He's the one I was telling you

bought Klein's house
over by Georgica Pond.

Sorry, Bill.
I-I couldn't resist spilling it.

Not a problem.

Yeah, closed on it two days ago.

Why keep the fruits
of my success a secret?

If you can't make

all your friends outrageously
jealous, what's the point?

Absolutely right.

But I didn't know Klein
was even selling it.

I would have made a run at it
myself.

He wasn't.

Bill made him an offer
he couldn't refuse.

Well, thanks to you guys
and your fund,

I could afford
to grossly overpay for it,

still have enough left over
for my girlfriend's abortion,

a small castle
in the south of France,

and, uh, prosthetic balls
for my dog.

You can do that?
They're called "neuticals." Look it up.

Hmm.

Where's Klein going?

Well, rumor has it,
once he seals the China deal,

he's gonna make a play
for Spielberg's house.

How fucking perfect is that, huh?

A shark buying the house
that "Jaws" built.

I love it.

Okay, guys, tee time.

Bill, enjoy the facilities.

If you need anything --
and I mean anything --

I'm number 4-5-1
for the chits.

All right?

Hmm.

Okay, one long island ice tea.

Sign the chit, please.

Shit.

5-4-1, 4-5-1?
It's my short-term memory.

Just pick one. Nobody knows the difference.
Okay.

Thank you.

Mmm!

Nance -- chits.

We can sign for whatever we want.

I feel like a steak --
three steaks.

Do you think it would be
too obnoxious

to buy a dozen sweaters in
the pro shop? It probably would.

The pool looks inviting.
Shall we swim? Or tennis?

Or tennis and then swim?
We need to get to work.

Hmm? What are you gonna do?
Walk around going...

"Psst, drugs over here"?

No, we need to schmooze
to get people to come

to the party tonight,
and then we can say...

"Psst, drugs over here."

Right, schmooze.
I'm good at that.

You take the main room.
I'll take the patio.

Long island ice teas
are delicious.

What's in them?
Mm. Everything.

I mean really delicious.

All right.
Let me try.

They're free.
Get your own.

Thanks, kid.

Where's my change?

Oh.

That's it?

You think I'm holding out on you?

Motherfucking Starbucks.

Listen, we getting our coffee
at Mickey D's from now on.

Yeah, you and your McDonald's.

Listen, Betz, they never did
your ass any favors.

For your information,
I worked there one summer.

Got more pussy
than you would believe.

Used to ask the ladies

if they wanted me
to super-size it.

You can always
go back, you know.

So, I organized
your arrest warrants

alphabetically and by court date

so you can access them
more easily.

Radar fucking O'Reilly.

Hey, time to hit this shit.

Okay, kid. Come on.

Throw this on.

Seriously?
Where are we going?

Just shut up
and do as I say, okay?

You're about to find out

how close you flew
to the fucking flame.

A 1969 DRC Romanee Conti Rouge.

Sick vintage.

My guy who imports it,
only $3,700 a bottle for me.

What's his name?

He's not taking
any new customers.

Fuck you. Now I really
got to know his name.

Sorry, pal.
He's a mystery.

The man has a name.

No can do. No can do.

Sorry to interrupt.

Did you just say $3,700 a bottle?

Yes, I did.

How much better is that
than one that costs...

I don't know --
$300 a bottle?

$3,400 better.

I see.

Sorry if you were expecting
some soliloquy

on tannins and bouquets,
but the truth is,

I drink it
'cause I can afford it.

Fascinating.

Does that turn you on?

Yes, it does.

Men wasting large sums of money

definitely turns me
all the way on.

So much so that
I'd like to invite you both

to a party tonight.

Oh, hi.

I'm Sophia.

Bill Sussman.

So, my girlfriends and I,
we have a wager going.

Trying to guess
what you do for a living.

I got my law degree
from Dartmouth

before I joined Credit Suisse.

The hours killed me,
so I invented an iPhone app

that I sold to Russia
called "Words with Comrades."

And now I'm writing the score
for the Broadway adaptation

of, uh, the most beloved
television show of all time,

"The Facts of Life."

Hmm. You're funny.

Hey, look, I'm having
a housewarming party tonight

at my...new property.

Why don't you bring your friends?
Count us in.

I will.

Want to get me a drink?

Long island ice tea,
make it a double.

Pouncy House Party Rentals.

Right there, shithead.
What the fuck?

Now, this is what I call
a fucking party.

God damn it. You promised me
this would never happen.

Shut the fuck up, Denny.

Send the kid in.

These cuffs are a little tight.

Oh, I'm sorry

they're not made out of silver,
your highness.

Hey, maybe when you get out

from doing 8 to 12
for distribution,

your parents might get you
a pair from Tiffany's.

Hey, here's the thing, kid.

Up to this point,

it's a lot more fun
standing on the other side.

But when the hammer
comes down --

and it always comes down --

you got to be
standing on my side.

What is this,
a fucking Civics class?

Yeah, and you wish you'd paid
a lot more fucking attention

when you were
in that fucking class.

I was Phi Beta Kappa,
you blue-collar piece of shit.

I want to talk to my lawyer.

You see how "Angelina Jolie"
she's being?

Trust me, Botwin,

she's shitting
her Dolce & Gabbanas right now.

Let's get rid
of the putrid pot princess.

Come on, partner.

So, listen,
you don't have to worry

about anything anymore.

Your brother has a chance
to walk away from this

and start clean, and so do you.

My brother?

Right.

Not here.

There's an old vet in there
ranting about the war.

People are totally captivated.
It's amazing.

If you took the same guy,
telling the same story,

put him on the street corner
with a shopping cart,

he'd be a babbling old fool.

But because he has money,
he's a witty raconteur.

Uh-huh.

Those two guys over there
paid $3,700

for a bottle of wine from France.

Well, France makes good wine.
I think it's the soil...

Or the water.
Or the alcohol.

No, they're just
showing off to prove

they're bigger, richer, better.

And...I'm gonna do that
with weed.

Do what?

Put it in a fancy box!

Sell it for
a shit-load of money.

Say it's from France,
tell them they can't have it.

Gotcha.

Luxury pot you can't
get your hands on, mm-hmm.

In the corporate world,
that's called re-branding.

I'm a titan now.
I know all the terms.

Um, grown in
the lush hills of Provence,

1,000 years of blood in the soil

to make it complex and wonderful.

You're good at this.

Nectar of the gods.

Tough game?

18 holes of pure torture.

Hit every bunker
and had to listen to Fisher

brag about his fourth wife
who used to be a stripper

and can only get off when she
takes it up the "tuchus."

I'm gonna go in to town.

I'm gonna get some fancy boxes,
some ribbon.

Une m?re que j'aimerias baiser.

What's that?

It's French for MILF.

I'm gonna take the limo.
You guys get a taxi.

What's wrong?

That's my limo.

Guess what I just did.

In order to do that,
I'd have to give a shit.

Oh, I think you'll give a shit.

Get out of here, Shane.

I watched a drug bust.

Pouncy House went down today.

It was pretty awesome.

It was like
a "Law & Order" episode

except for all the cops

didn't look
like unemployed actors.

Emma?

Nice job tapping that.

She's a lot cuter in person
than on her surveillance photo.

You saw her get busted?

Yeah, Ouellette
let me come along.

Got to hand it to mom.
All her enemies -- vanquished.

What the hell did mom
have to do with it?

She told Ouellette

that my big brother
was involved with Pouncy House

and I looked up to you.

So, in order to save me,
he had to bust them.

Pretty fucking genius.
Have you heard from her?

I don't know if she was
supposed to come back tonight.

What are you doing?

None of your business.

That's our database.

You and mom
can go fuck yourselves!

This product is
from the south, Provence.

The water is filtered through
Mediterranean limestone.

Makes a big difference
in the terroir.

It's more expensive, obviously.

But remember --

One puff is equal to four,
five of a regular strain.

I have premium,

something I offer
to preferred customers only.

Supply is limited.

I'll take two boxes.

Been around since Louis XIV.

Supposedly, his servants grew
an imported Belgian strain

near the, um, the gardens,
uh, at Versailles.

It's more aromatic
than American weed,

more, um, artisanal.

Yeah, his first two wives
never let him smoke.

They're old.

I love getting high
and sucking his cock.

Oh.

We'll take five boxes.

Oh, it's only two per customer.

I'll pay double.

Well, I -- I'm really
not supposed to do this,

but, um, your story's
really touched my heart,

so consider it
a belated wedding gift.

All I want to know,
will it take the edge off?

Definitely.
I'll take it.

I'm crazed with getting
my twins into preschool.

Well, if you start them early
with a good education --

60 grand to finger-paint
and pile blocks.

If we can even get in.

We sat down
with our accountant last week

and realized
it's gonna cost over $1 million

to educate
those two little animals.

And that's not counting college

plus all the gifts and bribes.

I bought a book on cunnilingus
in case I have to go down

on this one dyke admissions Nazi.

You have little ones?

I have a 4-year-old.

Well, I hope you sell
a lot of drugs

'cause you'll need it.

That and a quick tongue, I guess.

You said $500?

Yes.

I'll take 20.

How goes the fishing?

Turns out Klein already pulled
half the people here

into the fund.

And the other half
got taken by Madoff,

so nobody wants to
go near a hedge fund

unless they know for sure
they're on the top rung.

I mean, this party
is one colossal dry hump.

We're screwed.

I can save you.

You find someone?

Attagirl. Who?

First, a deal.

What kind of deal?

I have been selling dime bags
all night for $500 a pop

just by telling people
they're from France,

putting a pretty bow on it.

You guys fund me, I could expand,

become the grey goose of weed.

We're already breaking the law.

We need money in, not out.

Don't worry about it.

Do you see that guy over there?

In the yellow shirt?
By the bar?

Worth a fortune.

Coal mines.

Drinks $3,700 bottles of wine.

He's looking for a place
to park his cash

so that his ex-wife
can't get her hands on it.

You help me,
coal miner's all yours.

All right, stop by the office
next week with a business plan.

We'll take a look at it.

Now, come on,
introduce us to the guy.

Hang on.

Uh, Andy, come on.

I need you
to come vouch for the firm.

Can't. There's a hot redhead at the
bar in a fallopian-length dress

that I definitely
want a piece of.

Okay, Bukowski,
I'm cutting you off.

What?!

No! Nobody cuts
Bill Sussman off!

I don't think
I've ever seen you this drunk.

Bill Sussman doesn't get drunk.

Bill Sussman can hold his booze.

Can Bill Sussman
come help me now?

No, Bill Sussman
cannot come help you now.

Know why?

Bill Sussman doesn't follow
chicks around

every time
they snap their fingers

like a pathetic
chick-follower.

Bill Sussman does what he wants
whenever he wants it.

Do that again, you're a dead man.

Come on.
Admit it. You want it.

Bill Sussman turns you on, right?

Okay, okay, if you just help me
now for five minutes,

then I'll go get you
up into bed, okay?

Bed? Bed?!

Bill Sussman
doesn't do it in bed.

He does it on a bear-skin rug,
bare back, and backwards.

You're gonna bend for me, bitch.

Excuse me.
What's up? I'm sorry.

Will you please,
please stop acting like this?!

I really need
your help right now!

I have a lot to learn
from someone like Bill.

Doing it his way, refusing
to take no for an answer,

'cause that's
how he got his fortune.

There is no fortune.
Bill Sussman doesn't exist.

Well, he should.

Andy Botwin...
Sleeps on an air mattress,

has to borrow money from a kid
to start a business

that's about to go
belly-up,

and is obsessed with a woman
who's a self-centered,

heartless sociopath.

If you mean me, fuck you.

The truth hurts, doesn't it?

Truth is Bill Sussman's a dick.

Hey, chop-chop.
The coal miner's about to leave.

What's wrong with him?

Too many long island ice teas.
Fuck.

Hey.

I know that in --
I-I know that in the past,

Bill Sussman and I
have had our differences.

But I really don't think
I can do it

without his help right now.

Oh, yeah?

Oh. Well, now you see the power
of Bill Sussman, huh?

Blech! Fine.

But I'm doing it for Doug!
Yeah.

Bill Sussman does things
for his buddies.

Okay, which one is he?

The guy in the yellow shirt.

Oh!
Watch it, buddy.

Shit.
Is he too wasted?

Probably, but that's okay.
Jansen is, too.

Ohh.

See? All good.

Pain.

I'm telling you.

A raw egg mixed
with a little clamato

and some
crushed-up Oreos...

...works like a charm.

Okay.

If you say the word "clamato"
one more time,

I'm gonna heave again.

Hey, you looked sharp in Klein's
clothes. You swipe any?

No. Weighed me down.

I'm much happier
being Andy Botwin.

Carefree soul,

tasting all the low-hanging
fruit life has to offer,

a lot less complicated,
a lot more fun.

Let the masters of the universe
deal with all the climbers

and their agendas, you know?

With me, what you see
is what you get.

Again, I was really just looking
for a "yes" or a "no."

Silas.

It was a great trip.

Much to discuss.

Uh, before you come at me
with both barrels,

let me just say,

I have been thinking about it,
and you were right.

I was wrong.

I shouldn't have big-footed you
like that with Emma.

I had my reasons,

but you deserve more respect
than that.

It won't happen again,

and I'll let you make
more decisions...

In the future, okay?

Truce?

You had Emma arrested.

Emma had Emma arrested.
With your help.

Possibly.

That's bullshit.

It's business.

And you weren't
even gonna tell me.

You would have just told her.

Well, you're right about that.

Whose side are you on?

From now on, my own.

He downloaded our database.

Fucking rat.

I prefer the term
"informant."

Well, that wasn't yours to take.

Well, go ahead.
Come on.

Try me.

I'm not gonna fight you
for it, Silas.

Probably a good idea.

Consider me...

...the competition.

Fair warning --

Everything is up for grabs.

And best of luck to you, Nancy.

Fuck him.

Let him go.
We don't need him.