Weeds (2005–2012): Season 7, Episode 13 - Do Her/Don't Do Her - full transcript

Previously on Weeds...

I'm gonna do that. With weed.

Put it in a fancy box.

Sell it for a lot of money.

Hi. I'm Maxeen, the artist.

We're polyamorous.

And I don't want to leave her alone.

Hey, Charles.

If you're receiving this call,
that means two things.

One, I am dead.
And two,

you're invited to my funeral.



Wednesday, Edenwald Cemetery, 1 PM.

You have done nothing but make
my life here thoroughly unpleasant.

Picking on the weakest...

That's why I do those things, feelings.

- Roll up your window.
- What?

Oh, my God. We're getting mugged
by Sarah Palin.

We're being jacked.

Fuck you!

You okay?

You said you wanted to teach Silas
a lesson.

- You didn't.
- My boys did.

You need to send it all back.

Silas was never involved
in the Pouncy House.

His mother just wanted the competition gone
and you did that for her.



That's our database.

You and mom can go fuck yourselves.

Nancy only cares about her business
and herself. And one other thing.

How's my baby boy?

I'm glad you called.

You're doing the right thing, by the way.

Hey, Nance. See you got my text.

I'm just emailing myself
a few files.

I'm loving your new office.

Mom sent armed hitmen to jack my weed.

Silas, she's your mother.

My mother --
my mother...

will not let me be
my own person.

Why do you need her permission
for that?

Because! She --

No, I don't.

I don't need
her permission. But...

She...

Um...

You fucked up.

Fuck!
I fucked up.

Okay, deep breaths.

Look...

Jill's a vaguely reasonable
adult, right?

I'm sure she and Nancy

can come to a vaguely
peaceful understanding.

Talk it out, you know?
Like sisters.

No fucking way!
Go fuck yourself!

Take off my fucking shoes!

You look ridiculous.

Lumbering ass.

You lumber!
And you're an ass!

Well, you can kiss my ass,
drug dealer.

Sign the fucking custody papers

so I can go to
that High Line Park

and watch people screw
in the hotel windows.

That's pathetic!

Yeah, maybe, a little.

But the point is,
I win, you lose,

thanks to your angry offspring.

Oh, I like the little green
boxes, by the way.

That's a nice touch.

Thanks.

Oh, I ordered deli.

I mean, you can't not
when you're in New York, right?

Oh, by all means, eat up.

At least that way I know
my dresses are safe.

Leaving your doors open
in the big, bad city.

Aren't we feeling all safe
and secure.

Are we being
home-invasion robbed?

Who the fuck are you?
I'm her sister.

Should have known by the shoes.

- They're mine.
- I'm keeping them.

No, you're not!

Where the fuck are my drugs?

Holy shit.

You got it all back.

- The fuck I did.
- Uh, wait a minute.

You were supposed to
get them all back.

Can you please...

Just tell him to stop waving
that thing in my face?

Maybe aim
at the stomach, Pierre,

so she goes slow.

"Pierre."
Seriously?

My mama's a francophile, bitch.

Bonjour.

You know why she's here?

She's blackmailing me
to get custody of my son!

Nancy Botwin,
I don't give a shit

about your drama no more.

Get my drugs.

Bring them to the hospital
by 5:00 tonight,

or I will hunt you down
and kill you.

And I won't look back.

You know I'm good for it.

I had no idea
your life was this exciting.

I feel sick. Fuck.

I didn't think this through.

Well, well...

Well, that's what we do.
We fuck up.

Then we try to fix it.
Then we fuck up some more.

And we do it the most
with our family,

'cause that's the safest place
to practice.

But that's the shit
that makes you a man.

That and your haftorah.

So, I...don't know
what I'm gonna do.

What am I supposed to do?

Want to go to a funeral
with me?

Where are we going?

Queens.

The drugs are in Queens?

Will you shut up?

You want me out of your hair,
you know what to do.

And you're gonna do it
one way or another.

I'm not bullshitting.
I took photos.

That angry black lady --
she'll testify for me.

She hates your ass.

Pierre's on my side, too.
I can feel it.

If you don't sign,
I will send you back to jail.

So, then I'll get
custody anyway.

That's exactly what you want.

Another 14 years of motherhood

so you can have an extension
on your lame excuse

for not living.

I happen to like my life.
Thank you.

I mean, I might not have

black people
barging into my house

and holding me at gunpoint
every day...

I'll bet you don't even know
a black person.

Oh, and you can really count
on those two

as being your friends.

You're a coward.

You've always been a coward.

Cowards have a funny way
of being awarded custody.

Hold my hand.

Hold my hand.
You know I hate the dark.

Okay.
Talk to me. Talk to me.

Uh, this is the part
where the lights go out,

and then they come back on,

and we'll still be ourselves,
but we've switched bodies.

Ha ha ha.
Freaky Wednesday.

Yeah.

Clearly, you would have been
the big winner here.

Fuck you, bug eyes.

Fuck you, mustache.

Vehement Capital.
Please hold.

Whit,
what the hell's going on?

Doug, check your fly.

You didn't answer your phone.

A Deutsche exec vacationing
in Bali

bumped into Foster Klein.

Literally.

Klein was drunk and slurring

and talking about
his "fuck you" money.

Now word on the street is that
Vehement must be toxic.

What asshole disappears
on a tourist island?

We got to reach out
to our investors,

restore their confidence.

Or else we're looking
at a massive sell-off.

I mean, I'm talking
about fire sale.

End of days.

We got to put something
out there.

Something big,
something beautiful

before the Journal
nails our ankles

to a couple of Jesus sticks.

Jolene, can I have a word
with you in my office?

All right, Chicken Littles!
Listen up!

Now, I know you've all heard
some rumors.

Rest assured, you got nothing
to worry about.

People, listen,
we are all over this.

Okay? So get back to work.
Come on.

Bring in the money!

You shut up.

Stay the fuck out of the way.

I swear to God, I'll have them

stuff a grenade up your ass
and pull the pin.

Is he cute?
Totally.

He has the biggest...

That's not him, though.
Hi.

Is Demetri here?

Demetri?

Demetri!

Uh...Where is he?

Where's all the stuff?

He's in the...brig.

What happened?
Seriously?

Oh, you're the assholes
who jacked the pot.

She called you an asshole.
Asshole!

Um...
Aah.

Look, I really hate
to interrupt

your little
hookah dinner party,

but I really just
need to grab my pot...

and go.

So, if you'll just tell me
where it is,

I'll get it
and I'll get out of your hair.

Do her.
Don't do her.

Oh, yeah.

Do her.
Don't do her.

Oh, no.
I lost the rape contest.

Do her...

Don't do her.

No. No, no, no, no.

Do her...

Do her.

Yeah!

That's good.

She's never gonna forgive me.

First things first,
you need to apologize.

The good lord and creator
made us fallible creatures.

And who knows?
Maybe it'll all be fine.

Maybe she won't lose Stevie.

She'll probably lose Stevie.

But she'd kill Jill first.

Maybe she'd have Shane do it.

Actually, it's good we're here.

This is a good alibi.
Make sure people see us.

Death, yes.
I get it.

Bravo.

Today we are gathered

to celebrate the life
of Charles Van Der Elst.

Our delight.

Wait. What if I dig up dirt
on aunt Jill?

Then it'd be a fair fight.

Unless Jill's
a heroin smuggler,

it's never gonna be
a fair fight.

Maybe I should leave town.

...Humble, devoted to family
and home.

Oh, that's her.
But he was a man

devoted to higher
social beliefs.

Who?

Maxeen!

Of course she's up there

dancing some surrealist
masked death dance.

Huh.
She's put on a little weight.

She's pregnant.

What?

Some guy named Lanny.

They're raising the kid
with Charles' daughter,

the daughter's lover,
and their adopted African child.

That is delightfully
unconventional.

Hey.
It's a family, right?

Yes, it is.

H-how exactly do you know
all this?

I'm her therapist.

...A lean man, strong.

Is she the one that got away?

Mnh-mnh.

...A man in harmony
with his beliefs.

Charles was.

He had it figured out.

The only thing
that was important to him

was the happiness
of the people he loved.

And he had a mini fridge
right by the bed.

Man was a visionary.

Or a possible diabetic.

I prefer to believe visionary.

Sounds a lot like you.

My blood sugar's --
Oh, I see what you mean, yeah.

Well...

A lot of good it's doing me.

'Cause my family's --
our family's...

Breaking apart.

...For he was deeply tanned.

I would not do you.

Okay.

I would not do you.

I would definitely...

not do you.

This game sucks.

You know what else sucks,

is that you told me
he'd be back at 5:00,

and I'm still waiting.

5 to 10.
Okay. I'll keep waiting.

Years.
He got busted.

Stealing, like,
cases of lobster tails.

Did they take the weed?

Does it look like
they took the weed?!

He asked us to clear out
the apartment

in case the place got searched.

Okay, fine,
um...could you...

Give me the weed, and then
I'll clear that out for you?

Nah, that's not gonna work.

'Cause we're still smoking it.

And we don't know
who the fuck you are.

And we still want to do you.

Which one?

It's my weed!
He had you jack it for me.

He told us to jack it
for his partner.

That's me.
I'm his partner.

You're a girl.
She could be a girl cop.

Girl cops only give tickets.

Charlie's Angels were girl cops.

No.
They were detectives.

The guy talking to them
from the box was a cop.

All right.
All right, look.

Girls cops, I'm sorry, we're
still gonna have to fuck you up.

Barry, get the nunchucks.

You guys have no idea
who you're dealing with.

My sister is married
to the king

of a Mexican crime gang.

She was in jail!

She's killed... what?
How many men, Nance?

Jill, shut the fuck up.

They don't believe me.

Show them your trashy
jail tattoo.

Ow. Quit it!

That doesn't look Mexican.

No, that looks like the one
on that chick from the video.

Video?
Video?

Holy shit.
She's the chick from the video.

The one with the traffic-sign
thing on her ass, too, right?

That son of a bitch.

Another quality choice
of lover, Nance.

Do you guys have that video,
by the way?

Sorry we didn't believe you.
We couldn't see your face.

I could have swore
you were Chinese.

All dark hair and skinny.

Yeah.
Can I have my pot now?

If you are who you say you are,

we would...need to see your ass.

Mm-hmm.

To be sure.
Yep.

Oh.

All class.

There it is.

Oh, definitely do her.

Can I have my pot now, please?

It's right behind you
in the gorilla.

God bless you.

What is that stench?

It's Drakkar Noir.
It's to cover the smell.

Oh, it's giving me flashbacks
to seventh grade.

Jeremy Black...
played with my nipples...

in Ilyse Horowitz's closet.

I am so stoned.

You're still keeping up
appearances, huh, Botwin?

"Dostoevsky and the Principles
of Criminal Liability."

You look like shit.
Do I?

Yeah, I had a pretty rough
night. I couldn't sleep.

A lot of dark thoughts
clawing at me.

One point, I got up
and starting beating the shit

out of a radiator.

But that didn't work
really good.

Misplaced aggression.

Well, what...happened?

Was it about Billy?
Billy?

You know, that was a brilliant
fucking move on your part,

softening me up like that,

using my own son
to distract me.

Which worked...

long enough for him to let me
know how much of an asshole

he thinks that I am.

I know what you did, kid.

You sat in my office
for six weeks

and acted like some
fucking eager prot?g?e,

gaining my trust,

letting me feel that there was
still a glint of hope

in this godforsaken,
cynical fucking planet.

But then...then,

you and your middle-class,
petty-criminal fucking mother

pull a one-two punch
of such brilliant theatrics,

such heights of
Shakespearean duplicity

that I go and take down

a fucking low-level bunch
of college grads

so you can protect your family's
fucking pot business!

Hi.

What the fuck do you want?!

My paper --

Get the fuck out of here!
Fucking asshole.

I'm sorry.

You're not sorry.
That's the problem.

You got some internal valve
inside you, kid,

and it's turned off.

You're not sorry.
You're smug.

Entitled.

You feel like
you're above the laws

of human functioning society.

Pouncy House was going down
anyway, right?

We just expedited the process.

You want to be some
fuckwit criminal, be my guest.

But know this.

I'm gonna make your life
a living hell.

You and that equally smug,

entitled fuckwit
mother of yours.

She's not a fuckwit.

She's a drug dealer!

Who used the New York City
Police Department

for her own personal muscle!

It was my idea -- the bust --
not hers.

Stop trying to protect her.

Why don't you just
tell me what I can do,

and I'll do it.

No.

You're done.

I'm gonna march down
to that drug den

you call a home,

and I'm gonna slap cuffs
on Lady Botwin,

so help me God.

Wait! Wait, I can give you
something you want! Wait!!

You got something I want?

What the fuck do you have
that I want?

You tell me what the fuck
you have that I want.

It's a pancho.
And...

So, I hope all of this
makes up for the missing ounce.

I'll also send you money
in the mail.

And your car is being fixed
right now.

And, Dean, I'm so sorry.

It's okay.

Just a few broken ribs...

A slight concussion,
and some internal bleeding.

While they were in there,

they found a mass
behind my pancreas,

which they think is benign.

Fingers crossed.

What is that smell?

Drakkar Noir.

Get out.

Heylia, it was all
a big misunderstanding.

None of it was Silas' fault.
Please don't cut him off.

I learned that you and your son
are one and the same.

And I want nothing to do
with either of you.

No. No, not anymore.
He's on his own.

He's responsible for making
his own decisions,

and he...he needs you.

What he needs is to get out
of this damn, stank-ass city.

Ain't a boy on this planet
that don't need something green.

You should have seen him
working that field.

The smile on his face...

...was something you'll
probably never see again.

We're having
our best year ever.

And you're vouching for this?

S.E.C. has looked
at the books.

Vehement is solid.

Record profits.

Widening portfolios.

And we got the thumbs up
from the S.E.C.

What more do you want?

All right, guys.
We'll get the word out.

It should be in print tomorrow,

online tonight.
Thank you, Wally.

Bye, now.

You keep this fucking ship
afloat, Jolene.

I'm not a favor machine.

Next time, think of something

that doesn't involve me
sucking Journal cock.

Won't happen again.
Thanks, boss.

Let's go celebrate.

There's a craft fair
at the Javits Center.

We could grab dinner
afterwards.

Well, whit and I were gonna
go hit some titty bars.

But you go do your craft thing.

Buy me a wool cap
if you see one.

For when it gets cold.

Nothing scratchy.
Cashmere.

Something fit for a CFO.

CFO?

That's a promotion, right?

Damn right.

You are gonna have
so much money.

Come here.

Wait. Hold on.

Slow down, you guys.

Now, this article
bought you a few weeks.

A month, tops.

But eventually, someone
in this firm is going to have to admit

to certain improprieties.

And they're going to
have to take the fall.

Rick.

Rick.

Sorry.
He's not top brass.

It's going to have to be
one of you two.

I'll let you know.

Got to say -- great day.
Full of excitement.

Much better than the high line.

Do you think I should get
half-price tickets

to "Book of Mormon"?

I'm still smelling
Drakkar Noir everywhere.

Is that what you took away
from today?

Really? Excitement?

Uh, we were held at gunpoint,

my son betrayed me,
we were almost gang-raped.

Really?
That's exciting to you?

Fuck, yes.

If I were home right now,

I'd be scrubbing out
the inside of a microwave.

All I ever hear from you,
how much you hate your life,

how awful it is
to clean mud out of cleats,

how terrible it is to stay
in a marriage

for the sake of the children.

What kids have done
to your tits,

your life, your libido,
your freedom.

Why do you want
my little albatross

adding to the crushing weight
of it?

Because I love him.

Really?
Yeah.

- Really? - I've been raising him
since he was 10 months old.

I have fed him
and bathed his balls

and read him Boynton books
until my eyes have bled.

You birthed him,
but I'm his mom.

And he's happy.

And while I admit I derive
pleasure from torturing you

because you fucking deserve it

and I have been cleaning up
your messes

and doing your caretaking
for fucking ever,

the truth is,
at the bottom of all this shit,

is Stevie is better off.

And you knew that, and that's
why you sent him to me.

He's better off with you?

A miserable woman
who hates her life?

You made him cry
with that Waldorf bullshit.

Your daughters are freaky!
You sleep half the day!

He's better off with you?!

Oh, yeah,
judge my mere mortal existence.

My daughters are freaky?
Fuck you!

Wake the fuck up!

How do you think Stevie's gonna
turn out if he goes with you?

I'm getting a do-over!
I'm making it count!

Oh, you're getting
a do-over!

Oh, why don't I
get a fucking do-over?

I never get a fucking do-over.
Ohh.

Somewhere the fates decided

that Jill gets responsibility
in this life

while Nancy's free
to have adventures

and do-overs!

Here we go!
Martyr!

Okay, you're gonna show up
at the gymboree class

with your hoochie dresses

and a gun
jammed into your purse,

tote-full of marijuana,
fuck strangers upside down,

sideways, every which way,

and a toddler wander in
at 3:00 A.M.

Wet with pee!

- You'd love it if I died on the
vine, just like you, right? - Right.

Because you're all ready
to put on an apron

and bake cookies,

and I'm all ready
to shorten my skirt

and sling weed,

and fuck every colored cock
on the ethnic rainbow.

Mustache.

Bug eyes.

Jill, Nancy,
both here.

Uh, no one's bleeding.

How's it going with the...
custody thing?

Stalemate.
It's not a stalemate, Nance!

I hold every fucking card
in the deck.

Today was fun,
but I'm not giving up my son.

It's not your fucking son!
He's my son!

Okay.
I was afraid of this.

Uh...Jill,
would you come with me?

I'm not gonna fuck you, Andy.

Good to know, but that's not
where this is going.

I'm sorry.

I was angry.

I know the feeling.

Are you happy here?

In the city?

What's it gonna take?
Hmm?

What do you want?

I want my son.

What else do you want?

I don't want anything else.

I'm not your sister.

I've been inside you.

I know you know.

Getting Stevie is not gonna be
the answer to your problems

or make you happy, so...

What do you want, Jill?

Tell Andy.

Impromptu family meeting.
Major announcement.

Major discussions.

Might be unconventional,
but, uh, I have an idea.

It's for you.

To grow and to do
what you love.

I'm not saying
you have to live here.

God knows there's not
even a whole lot of room left,

and you're an adult.

I want you to have
your own life.

But...

It's here for you.

It's great.

Don't play with it.

Don't play with it.

Cadets!

Every day in this city,

over 300 people are mugged,
beaten, or raped...

2,000 pounds of drugs are sold
on the streets of New York.

When you graduate
from this police academy,

you will be the first line
of defense.

Sorry I'm late.

Art History ran over.

And, girls, I don't want
any problems from you.

You will eat.

You will eat this
if I have to liquify it

and feed it to you
through a tube.

Anorexics have hair that grows
on their backs.

You want that?

Mama, mommy's trying to talk.

Oh, I'm sorry, babe.

Uh...

The spirit of compromise.

Everyone's a little happy,
everyone's a little miserable.

It's family.

Um...Andy...

You're a man of big ideas,

some crackpot,
others brilliant.

Big-hearted.

We celebrate the closing
of escrow on this,

the Botwin-Price-Gray
family compound,

with significant contributions
from the Wilson fund.

An experiment, to be sure,

but really...the only solution.

May we not kill one another?

What?

Shayla!

I swear to God.

That was a big red dot.

Whoo!