You're the Worst (2014–…): Season 1, Episode 4 - What Normal People Do - full transcript
Gretchen makes Jimmy come over to her disaster of an apartment.
(gunfire, explosions on TV)
(heavy metal music playing)
>> EDGAR: Jimmy!
What's happening?!
What's happening?!
What are you wearing?
>> JIMMY: It's your war costume.
>> EDGAR: It's not a costume!
And why are you wearing it?
>> JIMMY: They have a killer
veterans' discount at the diner.
>> EDGAR: Seriously? How much?
>> GRETCHEN: Why'd you let me
sleep?
>> JIMMY: Okay, there is an
alarm on every phone.
So, literally everybody can be
self-reliant on this.
>> GRETCHEN: You went to
breakfast?
>> JIMMY: Yes.
>> GRETCHEN: You went to
breakfast with Killian?
>> JIMMY: No, I didn't go to
breakfast with Killian.
I went to breakfast with my
book.
Killian just happened to be
sitting across from me,
prattling on about the fourth
grade.
>> KILLIAN: Seventh grade.
>> GRETCHEN: Listen, Jimmy, I'm
only gonna say this once.
You and me, we could end
tomorrow, who knows, but in the
meantime, if there is even a
remote possibility of breakfast
and you don't wake me up, I will
never touch your dick again with
any part of my body.
At least you brought me
leftovers.
>> JIMMY: Oh, actually, those
were for... Yeah, enjoy those.
>> EDGAR: He wore my uniform for
a discount.
>> GRETCHEN: What about the kid?
>> JIMMY: You know how busy that
place gets on weekends?
A soldier reunited with his fat
little son?
>> GRETCHEN: Hella smart.
>> JIMMY: Oh, that reminds me.
Yours came to $18.23.
We'll just call it $20.
>> KILLIAN: I don't have any
money.
>> JIMMY: Go and steal it from
your mom's purse like a normal
boy.
>> EDGAR: The last time I wore
that uniform during active duty,
we were doing house checks.
A kid, 16, maybe 17, heard us...
>> JIMMY: This is a really hard
level.
>> EDGAR: Oh, I'm sorry.
I'll stop talking about my
actual war experiences so you
can play your war video game.
>> JIMMY: Thank you.
>> GRETCHEN: Jimmy.
>> JIMMY: Oh, come on, his
stories are super-depressing.
>> GRETCHEN: I'll listen to your
stories.
>> EDGAR: Thanks.
One day I found four stray dogs
fighting over a dead baby...
>> GRETCHEN: Eject!
Sorry, bud.
>> EDGAR: That's okay.
Actually, I-I'm speaking at the
dedication of a new veterans'
memorial today if you guys want
to come...?
>> LINDSAY: Oh, my God!
The worst drive over here!
(sighs)
What?
Oh, I had my jaw wired shut, so
I don't put anything bad in my
mouth.
>> GRETCHEN: But putting bad
stuff in your mouth is kind of
your thing.
>> LINDSAY: I know!
>> GRETCHEN: Thanks for driving
me to work. Bye.
>> LINDSAY: Bye, Jimmy.
>> JIMMY: Bye.
>> EDGAR: Could you take off my
uniform now?
>> JIMMY: Oh, damn it!
(groans)
War is hell.
>> ¶ I'm gonna leave you anyway
I'm gonna leave you anyway
Gonna leave you anyway. ¶
>> SAM: The craftsman movement
was a protest against the
dehumanizing aspects of the
Industrial Revolution.
Irony is building these shits
was so expensive, couldn't no
laborers even dream of living in
one.
>> GRETCHEN: Do you just want to
send me the Wikipedia link?
What am I doing here?!
>> SAM: I need media coverage on
this bitch, bitch.
>> GRETCHEN: What are you
thinking?
>> SAM: Specifically, I want to
get the house featured in
Curbed, Apartment Therapy, or
Black Dwell.
>> GRETCHEN: What's Black Dwell?
>> SAM: It's like Dwell, but for
black people.
No... you're right.
Go for regular Dwell.
I believe in you.
>> HONEY NUTZ: On-on purpose?
>> SHITSTAIN: You ain't break
your jaw or nothing?
>> LINDSAY: Nope.
>> HONEY NUTZ: Isn't your
husband mad that you can't open
your mouth?
>> LINDSAY: Paul only likes
hand jobs.
>> SHITSTAIN: But you have a
huge mouth!
>> HONEY NUTZ: Seriously.
You're like a crocodile.
>> LINDSAY: When I played field
hockey, they had to melt two
mouth guards together.
>> HONEY NUTZ: This fool Paul
know that if you lose weight,
that ass gonna shrink, too?
>> LINDSAY: Mm, Paul isn't an
ass man.
>> HONEY NUTZ: Look, why would
this prick buy the car if he
ain't even appreciate the
features?
>> SAM: My piano teacher growing
up had a craftsman.
I used to sit on that bench and
pray, "God, please, let me have
a house like this some day.
Also, let me figure out this
piece of shit 'Maple Leaf Rag.'"
>> GRETCHEN: It's one of the
hardest rags.
>> SAM: This house really means
something to me, Gretch.
>> GRETCHEN: Yeah, buddy.
It means you've worked hard and
you made it.
>> SAM: No, it means I'm gonna
get so laid.
House like this, bitches be
delivering the pussy.
>> GRETCHEN: "Delivering the
pussy"?
>> SAM: Oh, yeah.
I send out a quick group text.
"Hey, girl?" or "What's
crackin'?" or "You want to come
see my new architecturally
significant house?"
Then ding-dong, there it is.
>> GRETCHEN: Okay.
>> SAM: Piping fresh at your
door in 30 minutes or less!
>> GRETCHEN: All right.
>> SAM: I get it, though.
You know, dating is scary for
women.
Like, what if for once they
said, "No, you come to my house
for it this time," and I didn't
come?
>> GRETCHEN: Would you come?
>> SAM: Hell, no!
Look at my house.
These girls are afraid that if
they opened up a pussy dine-in-
only joint, no one would come.
Their tables be empty, have to
offer Groupons and shit.
So they keep delivering it.
>> GRETCHEN: All right, and I'm
out.
Great house, dum-dum.
I'm gonna go back to the office
and make some calls.
>> SAM: You do that, bitch.
Hey, and tell Black Dwell my
subscription shows up crazy late
every month!
Get a free month or some shit!
(crowd clapping)
>> COUNCILMAN: Some people think
Los Angeles is out of touch.
Too obsessed with the
entertainment industry to care
about national issues.
But with this memorial to our
nation's heroes, carved by our
very own Rumer Willis, we will
demonstrate just how wrong they
are.
And now, one of Los Angeles's
own brave servicemen, Edgar
Quintero.
>> EDGAR: Thank you, Councilman
Jim Burton.
The process of readjusting for
a soldier is a difficult one.
In war, you exist on a higher
plane of awareness.
But not in a fun, hippie way.
You're aware of a window opening
a block away, a pair of socks
being hung on a laundry line
right behind you.
You're strung tight as a violin.
And when you come home, that's
when shit gets real.
>> COUNCILMAN: Thank for your
service, soldier.
And now, L.A.'s very own
Zig Zags!
Huh?
(crowd cheering)
¶ ¶
>> These pricks.
They just trot us out there so
they can feel better about
themselves for a second before
they go back to seeing us as
disposable meat.
(Edgar snorts)
>> EDGAR: Edgar Quintero.
6th Battalion, 8th Infantry.
>> TOMMY: Tommy Boden.
I don't identify by my troop
anymore.
It's just Tommy now.
>> EDGAR: Oh, let me help you.
>> TOMMY: I can do it!
(sighs)
Sorry.
>> EDGAR: It's okay.
(flicks lighter)
>> TOMMY: I guess I got to get
used to life without a wing now.
>> EDGAR: Yeah, man.
That's rough.
>> EDGAR: Hey, listen, some of
my troopmates are going to get
a bite.
If you want, you should come;
we'd love to hear your stories.
(Gretchen whoops)
>> JIMMY: Oh, come on!
>> GRETCHEN: That is 301
exactly, so you have to go down
on me for five hours and one
minute.
>> JIMMY: In a row?
I'll die.
>> GRETCHEN: Pussy.
All right, three sessions, hour
and a halfish each.
>> JIMMY: That's doable.
God, day drinking's the best.
>> GRETCHEN: Day drinking is the
best. (laughs)
Aren't we lucky we're both in
professions where we can day
drink?
>> JIMMY: Are you in a
profession where you can day
>> GRETCHEN: They all are if you
want it bad enough.
What do you say we get one of
those sessions out of the way
right now?
>> JIMMY: That sounds good.
If we leave now, we can probably
be at my place in 30 minutes or
less.
>> GRETCHEN: Actually, let's go
to my place.
>> JIMMY: You-you-- sorry, your
place? Do you have a place?
>> GRETCHEN: Do you think I just
materialize out of the ether
whenever you want me?
>> JIMMY: No...
>> GRETCHEN: That I exist in
some suspended state of
crypto-animation only made
material when your balls tingle?
>> JIMMY: No.
Not literally.
I'm used to seeing you at my
house.
>> GRETCHEN: You are in rare
form lately.
>> JIMMY: What?
Edgar and his army perks.
Killian, whose name who you
constantly forget.
Me who didn't even merit
breakfast.
Are you aware that you only want
people in your life on your
terms?
>> JIMMY: Yes.
>> GRETCHEN: Well, stop.
Your self-awareness on this
means nothing, if you don't
change it.
>> JIMMY: Okay, fine.
How do I start?
>> GRETCHEN: Well, first step,
Jimmy... I need you to come eat
me out in my apartment.
(Jimmy scoffs)
>> BARFLY: I'll do it.
>> GRETCHEN: See?!
I am a wanted woman.
What do you say, buddy?
>> JIMMY: Well, I-I-I wouldn't
want to cockblock this fella.
>> BARFLY: Yay!
>> JIMMY: But all right.
Let's go.
Sit down, man.
(Gretchen chuckles)
>> GRETCHEN: I didn't have a
chance to tidy up.
Cute, huh?
I'm not much of a cleaner.
>> JIMMY: You're not much of a
human.
>> GRETCHEN: Oh, calm down.
I'll be right back.
(cat meows)
>> JIMMY: Whoa.
She never returned you?
(whispering): Do you miss books?
(mewing)
(Jimmy gags, coughs)
>> GRETCHEN: You want to watch a
little TV first?
>> JIMMY: Okay.
Where's the TV?
>> GRETCHEN: I watch on my
computer.
>> JIMMY: What do you mean, you
watch on your computer?
>> GRETCHEN: You're so old.
Here.
>> JIMMY: Well, you're a festive
masturbator.
>> GRETCHEN: Couldn't find an
extension cord.
(loud Middle Eastern dance music
begins playing)
>> JIMMY: What is that?
>> GRETCHEN (groans): It's my
neighbor Ladan, she has the
worst taste in music.
(screaming): Turn it down,
whore!
(sighs)
Shit.
I think I may have downloaded
porn viruses again.
(sighs): Well, you ready to
slice off a piece of this?
>> JIMMY: Not really.
>> GRETCHEN: Too bad.
>> TOMMY: Boys, this is Edgar.
Edgar, this is Bone Bag and
Martinez.
>> EDGAR: Bone Bag.
>> BONE BAG: Nice to meet you.
>> EDGAR: Martinez.
>> MARTINEZ: Hey, man.
How are you?
>> EDGAR: Good.
>> MARTINEZ: Have a seat.
>> EDGAR: Thank you.
>> MARTINEZ: And so, talk to us,
tell us what it feels like
being home.
>> EDGAR: Oh, well, you know,
it's a hard adjustment, but I
got some good friends who
support me.
>> BONE BAG: It's all you got,
right?
Your brothers.
>> EDGAR: Oh, no, I mean civie
friends.
I don't really hang with anyone
from over there.
>> BONE BAG: They remind you
too much of all the shit that
went down?
>> EDGAR: Nah, mostly, they're
just kind of dicks.
So where'd you guys train?
I was at Pendleton.
>> TOMMY: Yeah, yeah, same here.
>> MARTINEZ: Bitch, you went to
Juilliard.
>> EDGAR: I've never heard of
>> WAITRESS: Here you go, guys.
>> MARTINEZ: Ah, yes.
>> BONE BAG: My Pilates
instructor is gonna be so
>> MARTINEZ: Yeah, at least I go
back to boot camp tomorrow.
>> EDGAR: Why would you go back
to boot camp?
>> MARTINEZ: Dude, there's a
great one on Melrose.
>> TOMMY: So, Edgar, why don't
you tell us that story you were
telling at the dedication?
>> EDGAR: Oh, uh, okay, um...
well, you know how when you get
back and it's hard to stop
seeing danger everywhere?
It's like, I used to have these
dreams about war...
>> MARTINEZ: Hold on, hold on.
>> EDGAR: ...lots of violent
stuff.
>> MARTINEZ: Wait, wait, wait.
Okay.
(Edgar clears throat)
>> EDGAR: But...
now they're the same.
Only the dream is set here
at home.
Does that ever happen to you
guys?
>> BONE BAG: No, I take Ambien.
>> GIRL: Excuse me, we are giant
fans.
Could we get your autograph?
>> TOMMY: Not now.
>> GIRL: Not even here?
>> TOMMY: Absolutely.
>> GIRL: Thanks.
(girl sighs)
>> EDGAR: Who are you guys?
>> MARTINEZ: You didn't tell
him?
>> TOMMY: I was just in
I was assuming that he knew and
he was just running with it.
>> BONE BAG: I'm so sorry, man.
We're prepping for a movie.
>> MARTINEZ: Uh, it's this
gritty indie flick; we play
soldiers trying to adjust to
life back home.
>> TOMMY: Seriously, you've
never seen NCIS: LA?
I was nominated for an ALMA
last year.
I'm a quarter Peruvian, I know I
>> EDGAR: All right, I'm gonna
go.
(actors protesting)
>> TOMMY: I am really sorry.
We just want to make this as
real... as possible.
For you.
>> MARTINEZ: Yeah.
>> EDGAR: Okay, I'm in.
All right, I get it.
Yeah, I get it.
>> TOMMY: It's great!
Now, if you could just sign this
life-rights release thingy...
it-it, but, it-it, it's typical
lawyer bullshit-- it's just to
protect you... from suing us.
(Tommy sighs)
(people speaking loudly in
foreign language)
(Jimmy sighs)
(Jimmy gasps)
>> GRETCHEN: So, you gonna stick
around for a bit or...?
>> JIMMY: Yeah, of course.
>> GRETCHEN (laughs): Oh...
Oh... good... then.
So... we could try to watch TV
again.
>> JIMMY: Except it's not a TV,
is it?
It's a computer.
>> GRETCHEN: I watch television
programs on it, so for my
purposes, it is a TV.
>> JIMMY: Although TVs don't
downloading too many gang bang
videos.
>> GRETCHEN: Consensual group
sex is very different than a
gang bang.
>> JIMMY: Is it?
>> GRETCHEN: All right, I get
it.
My place isn't as nice as yours.
>> JIMMY: Your place isn't as
nice as a crack hovel.
>> GRETCHEN: Maybe it isn't
perfectly OCD tidy, or decorated
with stupid posters of dumb art,
or pillows with goddamn whales,
or old-timey maps, but it's
still my home.
>> JIMMY: My phone is covered in
goo!
>> GRETCHEN: Join the club,
phone!
If you want to go, just go.
>> JIMMY: Not unless you want me
to go.
Fine.
You know what?
I can feel you wanting me to
leave like a scorching flame
emanating from the other side of
the bed, so I'm going to leave.
>> GRETCHEN: Don't invent that I
want you to leave just as a
smoke-screen for you wanting to
leave.
>> JIMMY: Then I'll stay!
>> GRETCHEN: No!
I don't want to be the person
who makes you stay somewhere you
don't want to be.
>> JIMMY: If that's what you
want.
(Jimmy clears his throat)
>> GRETCHEN: Fine, just walk
away.
>> JIMMY: No, you are kicking me
out!
>> GRETCHEN: Whatever you have
to tell yourself.
>> JIMMY: So, I should go or...?
>> GRETCHEN: If that's what you
want to do.
(Jimmy scoffs)
(Gretchen sighs)
>> LINDSAY: What are you doing?
>> EDGAR: Nothing.
They're not home.
>> LINDSAY: Shoot!
I need to talk to Gretchen.
Can I ask you a question?
What do you think of my ass?
>> EDGAR: I-I don't know.
Well, let me see it.
It looks fine to me.
I mean, it's just something you
sit on.
It's not like the size of your
ass defines you.
>> LINDSAY: You've never been
west of Doheny.
What are you doing out here?
>> EDGAR: Waiting for someone.
>> LINDSAY: Who?
>> EDGAR: My dealer.
I called him, and then I was
waiting, and when I thought it
was him pulling up, I suddenly
thought maybe I didn't want
heroin after all.
>> LINDSAY: Do you want heroin?
>> EDGAR: No.
But mostly yes right now.
>> LINDSAY: Do you want to come
with me instead?
>> EDGAR: Yeah.
(engine starting)
(loud music plays in car)
>> KILLIAN: Hi.
>> DEALER: What you need, fool?
>> GRETCHEN: Thanks.
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: You bet.
Sign that, please.
And don't forget to enjoy that
pizza.
I am so excited for you.
And have a beautiful evening.
>> GRETCHEN: Wait a second.
Why the hell are you so happy?
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: With
what? Like, my job?
>> GRETCHEN: Well, yeah.
No offense.
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: No, none
taken.
It's like a really sweet gig for
me.
I just drive around, listening
to TED Talks or my jams or
whatever, and if I want to get
high, let's roll.
If I don't want to deliver a
pizza, I don't.
I just pull over and eat that
shit, and I tell 'em I got
robbed again.
Put that up against your 401K,
you know?
>> GRETCHEN: So, you don't want
to have your own pizza
restaurant?
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: Oh, my
God, that would be awesome.
You want to do that?
Let's do it.
>> GRETCHEN: Oh, no. No, no, no.
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: Give me
your number.
>> GRETCHEN: I was just...
Never mind.
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: Yeah,
it's probably a lot of work,
huh?
For now, just delivering
happiness really works for my
lifestyle, so... namaste.
>> EDGAR: Hold still.
One more.
>> LINDSAY: Oh.
>> EDGAR: Ah.
>> LINDSAY: Oh. Ah!
(Edgar mumbles)
Ah! Oh, yeah.
>> EDGAR: All right, so my
point is, I just don't want to
be some symbol of patriotism.
>> LINDSAY: No kidding.
It's depressing.
Whenever they bring one of those
army guys out to sing the
National Anthem, I'm like, "Ugh,
no.
Where's Beyoncé?"
>> EDGAR: So, how do I get
people to treat me normal?
>> LINDSAY: Stop talking about
it all the time!
If you have a bad thought, just
push it down.
Or eat it, like I do.
I mean, I don't see
you as just some vet.
>> EDGAR: Well, how do you see
me?
>> LINDSAY: As a freeloading,
kind of dumb Mexican guy that
hangs out at Jimmy's.
How do you see me?
>> EDGAR: Um... as Gretchen's
pretty friend who should learn
to be happy with who she is.
>> WAITRESS: Here you go.
>> LINDSAY: Oh!
>> WAITRESS: So, I didn't get a
chance to tell you when you were
here earlier today, but we have
a military discount.
>> EDGAR: Aw, thanks, but... I'm
good.
Psst.
Um, yes, of course I'll have
that discount, thank you.
>> LINDSAY: Ow! Ow!
>> EDGAR: Are you okay?
>> LINDSAY: Yes. The pain makes
it even better.
>> EDGAR: Did you...?
>> LINDSAY: Mm-hmm.
>> EDGAR: Hold on.
>> LINDSAY: It's the best.
Right?
>> EDGAR: Aw. Uh-huh.
>> LINDSAY: Mm-hmm.
(knocking)
>> GRETCHEN: Hey.
Where are you going?
>> JIMMY: To come see you.
I wanted to say, uh, I'm sorry.
>> GRETCHEN: For dissing my
apartment?
>> JIMMY: No. That place is a
shithole, but you're right.
I can be a bit... set in my
ways, and I should have invited
you to breakfast.
>> GRETCHEN: Yes.
>> JIMMY: And I shouldn't have
left your apartment.
>> GRETCHEN: Eh. Actually, I'm
glad you left.
>> JIMMY: You are?
>> GRETCHEN: Turns out I'm
I want things on my own terms,
too.
When I deliver the pussy, I can
leave whenever I want.
>> JIMMY: Sorry. Deliver the
pussy?
>> GRETCHEN: It sounds better
when a black guy says it.
I am probably broken, Jimmy.
I don't know.
My point is, I am done comparing
this to what normal people do.
>> JIMMY: Good.
Why would we even want to do
what normal people do?
>> GRETCHEN: Yeah.
Normal people are terrible.
So am I coming in, or are we...?
>> JIMMY: Yeah, come on.
>> TOMMY: It's nice that the
city unveiled this statue...
but...
it isn't enough...
because we hurt inside.
Every day we ache for our fallen
brothers.
We ache, yet nobody pays
attention!
Well... you're going to pay
attention now.
(Tommy yells, people scream)
>> JIMMY: Hey, that's the guy
from NCIS: LA!
Oh, no.
Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH
(heavy metal music playing)
>> EDGAR: Jimmy!
What's happening?!
What's happening?!
What are you wearing?
>> JIMMY: It's your war costume.
>> EDGAR: It's not a costume!
And why are you wearing it?
>> JIMMY: They have a killer
veterans' discount at the diner.
>> EDGAR: Seriously? How much?
>> GRETCHEN: Why'd you let me
sleep?
>> JIMMY: Okay, there is an
alarm on every phone.
So, literally everybody can be
self-reliant on this.
>> GRETCHEN: You went to
breakfast?
>> JIMMY: Yes.
>> GRETCHEN: You went to
breakfast with Killian?
>> JIMMY: No, I didn't go to
breakfast with Killian.
I went to breakfast with my
book.
Killian just happened to be
sitting across from me,
prattling on about the fourth
grade.
>> KILLIAN: Seventh grade.
>> GRETCHEN: Listen, Jimmy, I'm
only gonna say this once.
You and me, we could end
tomorrow, who knows, but in the
meantime, if there is even a
remote possibility of breakfast
and you don't wake me up, I will
never touch your dick again with
any part of my body.
At least you brought me
leftovers.
>> JIMMY: Oh, actually, those
were for... Yeah, enjoy those.
>> EDGAR: He wore my uniform for
a discount.
>> GRETCHEN: What about the kid?
>> JIMMY: You know how busy that
place gets on weekends?
A soldier reunited with his fat
little son?
>> GRETCHEN: Hella smart.
>> JIMMY: Oh, that reminds me.
Yours came to $18.23.
We'll just call it $20.
>> KILLIAN: I don't have any
money.
>> JIMMY: Go and steal it from
your mom's purse like a normal
boy.
>> EDGAR: The last time I wore
that uniform during active duty,
we were doing house checks.
A kid, 16, maybe 17, heard us...
>> JIMMY: This is a really hard
level.
>> EDGAR: Oh, I'm sorry.
I'll stop talking about my
actual war experiences so you
can play your war video game.
>> JIMMY: Thank you.
>> GRETCHEN: Jimmy.
>> JIMMY: Oh, come on, his
stories are super-depressing.
>> GRETCHEN: I'll listen to your
stories.
>> EDGAR: Thanks.
One day I found four stray dogs
fighting over a dead baby...
>> GRETCHEN: Eject!
Sorry, bud.
>> EDGAR: That's okay.
Actually, I-I'm speaking at the
dedication of a new veterans'
memorial today if you guys want
to come...?
>> LINDSAY: Oh, my God!
The worst drive over here!
(sighs)
What?
Oh, I had my jaw wired shut, so
I don't put anything bad in my
mouth.
>> GRETCHEN: But putting bad
stuff in your mouth is kind of
your thing.
>> LINDSAY: I know!
>> GRETCHEN: Thanks for driving
me to work. Bye.
>> LINDSAY: Bye, Jimmy.
>> JIMMY: Bye.
>> EDGAR: Could you take off my
uniform now?
>> JIMMY: Oh, damn it!
(groans)
War is hell.
>> ¶ I'm gonna leave you anyway
I'm gonna leave you anyway
Gonna leave you anyway. ¶
>> SAM: The craftsman movement
was a protest against the
dehumanizing aspects of the
Industrial Revolution.
Irony is building these shits
was so expensive, couldn't no
laborers even dream of living in
one.
>> GRETCHEN: Do you just want to
send me the Wikipedia link?
What am I doing here?!
>> SAM: I need media coverage on
this bitch, bitch.
>> GRETCHEN: What are you
thinking?
>> SAM: Specifically, I want to
get the house featured in
Curbed, Apartment Therapy, or
Black Dwell.
>> GRETCHEN: What's Black Dwell?
>> SAM: It's like Dwell, but for
black people.
No... you're right.
Go for regular Dwell.
I believe in you.
>> HONEY NUTZ: On-on purpose?
>> SHITSTAIN: You ain't break
your jaw or nothing?
>> LINDSAY: Nope.
>> HONEY NUTZ: Isn't your
husband mad that you can't open
your mouth?
>> LINDSAY: Paul only likes
hand jobs.
>> SHITSTAIN: But you have a
huge mouth!
>> HONEY NUTZ: Seriously.
You're like a crocodile.
>> LINDSAY: When I played field
hockey, they had to melt two
mouth guards together.
>> HONEY NUTZ: This fool Paul
know that if you lose weight,
that ass gonna shrink, too?
>> LINDSAY: Mm, Paul isn't an
ass man.
>> HONEY NUTZ: Look, why would
this prick buy the car if he
ain't even appreciate the
features?
>> SAM: My piano teacher growing
up had a craftsman.
I used to sit on that bench and
pray, "God, please, let me have
a house like this some day.
Also, let me figure out this
piece of shit 'Maple Leaf Rag.'"
>> GRETCHEN: It's one of the
hardest rags.
>> SAM: This house really means
something to me, Gretch.
>> GRETCHEN: Yeah, buddy.
It means you've worked hard and
you made it.
>> SAM: No, it means I'm gonna
get so laid.
House like this, bitches be
delivering the pussy.
>> GRETCHEN: "Delivering the
pussy"?
>> SAM: Oh, yeah.
I send out a quick group text.
"Hey, girl?" or "What's
crackin'?" or "You want to come
see my new architecturally
significant house?"
Then ding-dong, there it is.
>> GRETCHEN: Okay.
>> SAM: Piping fresh at your
door in 30 minutes or less!
>> GRETCHEN: All right.
>> SAM: I get it, though.
You know, dating is scary for
women.
Like, what if for once they
said, "No, you come to my house
for it this time," and I didn't
come?
>> GRETCHEN: Would you come?
>> SAM: Hell, no!
Look at my house.
These girls are afraid that if
they opened up a pussy dine-in-
only joint, no one would come.
Their tables be empty, have to
offer Groupons and shit.
So they keep delivering it.
>> GRETCHEN: All right, and I'm
out.
Great house, dum-dum.
I'm gonna go back to the office
and make some calls.
>> SAM: You do that, bitch.
Hey, and tell Black Dwell my
subscription shows up crazy late
every month!
Get a free month or some shit!
(crowd clapping)
>> COUNCILMAN: Some people think
Los Angeles is out of touch.
Too obsessed with the
entertainment industry to care
about national issues.
But with this memorial to our
nation's heroes, carved by our
very own Rumer Willis, we will
demonstrate just how wrong they
are.
And now, one of Los Angeles's
own brave servicemen, Edgar
Quintero.
>> EDGAR: Thank you, Councilman
Jim Burton.
The process of readjusting for
a soldier is a difficult one.
In war, you exist on a higher
plane of awareness.
But not in a fun, hippie way.
You're aware of a window opening
a block away, a pair of socks
being hung on a laundry line
right behind you.
You're strung tight as a violin.
And when you come home, that's
when shit gets real.
>> COUNCILMAN: Thank for your
service, soldier.
And now, L.A.'s very own
Zig Zags!
Huh?
(crowd cheering)
¶ ¶
>> These pricks.
They just trot us out there so
they can feel better about
themselves for a second before
they go back to seeing us as
disposable meat.
(Edgar snorts)
>> EDGAR: Edgar Quintero.
6th Battalion, 8th Infantry.
>> TOMMY: Tommy Boden.
I don't identify by my troop
anymore.
It's just Tommy now.
>> EDGAR: Oh, let me help you.
>> TOMMY: I can do it!
(sighs)
Sorry.
>> EDGAR: It's okay.
(flicks lighter)
>> TOMMY: I guess I got to get
used to life without a wing now.
>> EDGAR: Yeah, man.
That's rough.
>> EDGAR: Hey, listen, some of
my troopmates are going to get
a bite.
If you want, you should come;
we'd love to hear your stories.
(Gretchen whoops)
>> JIMMY: Oh, come on!
>> GRETCHEN: That is 301
exactly, so you have to go down
on me for five hours and one
minute.
>> JIMMY: In a row?
I'll die.
>> GRETCHEN: Pussy.
All right, three sessions, hour
and a halfish each.
>> JIMMY: That's doable.
God, day drinking's the best.
>> GRETCHEN: Day drinking is the
best. (laughs)
Aren't we lucky we're both in
professions where we can day
drink?
>> JIMMY: Are you in a
profession where you can day
>> GRETCHEN: They all are if you
want it bad enough.
What do you say we get one of
those sessions out of the way
right now?
>> JIMMY: That sounds good.
If we leave now, we can probably
be at my place in 30 minutes or
less.
>> GRETCHEN: Actually, let's go
to my place.
>> JIMMY: You-you-- sorry, your
place? Do you have a place?
>> GRETCHEN: Do you think I just
materialize out of the ether
whenever you want me?
>> JIMMY: No...
>> GRETCHEN: That I exist in
some suspended state of
crypto-animation only made
material when your balls tingle?
>> JIMMY: No.
Not literally.
I'm used to seeing you at my
house.
>> GRETCHEN: You are in rare
form lately.
>> JIMMY: What?
Edgar and his army perks.
Killian, whose name who you
constantly forget.
Me who didn't even merit
breakfast.
Are you aware that you only want
people in your life on your
terms?
>> JIMMY: Yes.
>> GRETCHEN: Well, stop.
Your self-awareness on this
means nothing, if you don't
change it.
>> JIMMY: Okay, fine.
How do I start?
>> GRETCHEN: Well, first step,
Jimmy... I need you to come eat
me out in my apartment.
(Jimmy scoffs)
>> BARFLY: I'll do it.
>> GRETCHEN: See?!
I am a wanted woman.
What do you say, buddy?
>> JIMMY: Well, I-I-I wouldn't
want to cockblock this fella.
>> BARFLY: Yay!
>> JIMMY: But all right.
Let's go.
Sit down, man.
(Gretchen chuckles)
>> GRETCHEN: I didn't have a
chance to tidy up.
Cute, huh?
I'm not much of a cleaner.
>> JIMMY: You're not much of a
human.
>> GRETCHEN: Oh, calm down.
I'll be right back.
(cat meows)
>> JIMMY: Whoa.
She never returned you?
(whispering): Do you miss books?
(mewing)
(Jimmy gags, coughs)
>> GRETCHEN: You want to watch a
little TV first?
>> JIMMY: Okay.
Where's the TV?
>> GRETCHEN: I watch on my
computer.
>> JIMMY: What do you mean, you
watch on your computer?
>> GRETCHEN: You're so old.
Here.
>> JIMMY: Well, you're a festive
masturbator.
>> GRETCHEN: Couldn't find an
extension cord.
(loud Middle Eastern dance music
begins playing)
>> JIMMY: What is that?
>> GRETCHEN (groans): It's my
neighbor Ladan, she has the
worst taste in music.
(screaming): Turn it down,
whore!
(sighs)
Shit.
I think I may have downloaded
porn viruses again.
(sighs): Well, you ready to
slice off a piece of this?
>> JIMMY: Not really.
>> GRETCHEN: Too bad.
>> TOMMY: Boys, this is Edgar.
Edgar, this is Bone Bag and
Martinez.
>> EDGAR: Bone Bag.
>> BONE BAG: Nice to meet you.
>> EDGAR: Martinez.
>> MARTINEZ: Hey, man.
How are you?
>> EDGAR: Good.
>> MARTINEZ: Have a seat.
>> EDGAR: Thank you.
>> MARTINEZ: And so, talk to us,
tell us what it feels like
being home.
>> EDGAR: Oh, well, you know,
it's a hard adjustment, but I
got some good friends who
support me.
>> BONE BAG: It's all you got,
right?
Your brothers.
>> EDGAR: Oh, no, I mean civie
friends.
I don't really hang with anyone
from over there.
>> BONE BAG: They remind you
too much of all the shit that
went down?
>> EDGAR: Nah, mostly, they're
just kind of dicks.
So where'd you guys train?
I was at Pendleton.
>> TOMMY: Yeah, yeah, same here.
>> MARTINEZ: Bitch, you went to
Juilliard.
>> EDGAR: I've never heard of
>> WAITRESS: Here you go, guys.
>> MARTINEZ: Ah, yes.
>> BONE BAG: My Pilates
instructor is gonna be so
>> MARTINEZ: Yeah, at least I go
back to boot camp tomorrow.
>> EDGAR: Why would you go back
to boot camp?
>> MARTINEZ: Dude, there's a
great one on Melrose.
>> TOMMY: So, Edgar, why don't
you tell us that story you were
telling at the dedication?
>> EDGAR: Oh, uh, okay, um...
well, you know how when you get
back and it's hard to stop
seeing danger everywhere?
It's like, I used to have these
dreams about war...
>> MARTINEZ: Hold on, hold on.
>> EDGAR: ...lots of violent
stuff.
>> MARTINEZ: Wait, wait, wait.
Okay.
(Edgar clears throat)
>> EDGAR: But...
now they're the same.
Only the dream is set here
at home.
Does that ever happen to you
guys?
>> BONE BAG: No, I take Ambien.
>> GIRL: Excuse me, we are giant
fans.
Could we get your autograph?
>> TOMMY: Not now.
>> GIRL: Not even here?
>> TOMMY: Absolutely.
>> GIRL: Thanks.
(girl sighs)
>> EDGAR: Who are you guys?
>> MARTINEZ: You didn't tell
him?
>> TOMMY: I was just in
I was assuming that he knew and
he was just running with it.
>> BONE BAG: I'm so sorry, man.
We're prepping for a movie.
>> MARTINEZ: Uh, it's this
gritty indie flick; we play
soldiers trying to adjust to
life back home.
>> TOMMY: Seriously, you've
never seen NCIS: LA?
I was nominated for an ALMA
last year.
I'm a quarter Peruvian, I know I
>> EDGAR: All right, I'm gonna
go.
(actors protesting)
>> TOMMY: I am really sorry.
We just want to make this as
real... as possible.
For you.
>> MARTINEZ: Yeah.
>> EDGAR: Okay, I'm in.
All right, I get it.
Yeah, I get it.
>> TOMMY: It's great!
Now, if you could just sign this
life-rights release thingy...
it-it, but, it-it, it's typical
lawyer bullshit-- it's just to
protect you... from suing us.
(Tommy sighs)
(people speaking loudly in
foreign language)
(Jimmy sighs)
(Jimmy gasps)
>> GRETCHEN: So, you gonna stick
around for a bit or...?
>> JIMMY: Yeah, of course.
>> GRETCHEN (laughs): Oh...
Oh... good... then.
So... we could try to watch TV
again.
>> JIMMY: Except it's not a TV,
is it?
It's a computer.
>> GRETCHEN: I watch television
programs on it, so for my
purposes, it is a TV.
>> JIMMY: Although TVs don't
downloading too many gang bang
videos.
>> GRETCHEN: Consensual group
sex is very different than a
gang bang.
>> JIMMY: Is it?
>> GRETCHEN: All right, I get
it.
My place isn't as nice as yours.
>> JIMMY: Your place isn't as
nice as a crack hovel.
>> GRETCHEN: Maybe it isn't
perfectly OCD tidy, or decorated
with stupid posters of dumb art,
or pillows with goddamn whales,
or old-timey maps, but it's
still my home.
>> JIMMY: My phone is covered in
goo!
>> GRETCHEN: Join the club,
phone!
If you want to go, just go.
>> JIMMY: Not unless you want me
to go.
Fine.
You know what?
I can feel you wanting me to
leave like a scorching flame
emanating from the other side of
the bed, so I'm going to leave.
>> GRETCHEN: Don't invent that I
want you to leave just as a
smoke-screen for you wanting to
leave.
>> JIMMY: Then I'll stay!
>> GRETCHEN: No!
I don't want to be the person
who makes you stay somewhere you
don't want to be.
>> JIMMY: If that's what you
want.
(Jimmy clears his throat)
>> GRETCHEN: Fine, just walk
away.
>> JIMMY: No, you are kicking me
out!
>> GRETCHEN: Whatever you have
to tell yourself.
>> JIMMY: So, I should go or...?
>> GRETCHEN: If that's what you
want to do.
(Jimmy scoffs)
(Gretchen sighs)
>> LINDSAY: What are you doing?
>> EDGAR: Nothing.
They're not home.
>> LINDSAY: Shoot!
I need to talk to Gretchen.
Can I ask you a question?
What do you think of my ass?
>> EDGAR: I-I don't know.
Well, let me see it.
It looks fine to me.
I mean, it's just something you
sit on.
It's not like the size of your
ass defines you.
>> LINDSAY: You've never been
west of Doheny.
What are you doing out here?
>> EDGAR: Waiting for someone.
>> LINDSAY: Who?
>> EDGAR: My dealer.
I called him, and then I was
waiting, and when I thought it
was him pulling up, I suddenly
thought maybe I didn't want
heroin after all.
>> LINDSAY: Do you want heroin?
>> EDGAR: No.
But mostly yes right now.
>> LINDSAY: Do you want to come
with me instead?
>> EDGAR: Yeah.
(engine starting)
(loud music plays in car)
>> KILLIAN: Hi.
>> DEALER: What you need, fool?
>> GRETCHEN: Thanks.
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: You bet.
Sign that, please.
And don't forget to enjoy that
pizza.
I am so excited for you.
And have a beautiful evening.
>> GRETCHEN: Wait a second.
Why the hell are you so happy?
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: With
what? Like, my job?
>> GRETCHEN: Well, yeah.
No offense.
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: No, none
taken.
It's like a really sweet gig for
me.
I just drive around, listening
to TED Talks or my jams or
whatever, and if I want to get
high, let's roll.
If I don't want to deliver a
pizza, I don't.
I just pull over and eat that
shit, and I tell 'em I got
robbed again.
Put that up against your 401K,
you know?
>> GRETCHEN: So, you don't want
to have your own pizza
restaurant?
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: Oh, my
God, that would be awesome.
You want to do that?
Let's do it.
>> GRETCHEN: Oh, no. No, no, no.
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: Give me
your number.
>> GRETCHEN: I was just...
Never mind.
>> PIZZA DELIVERY GUY: Yeah,
it's probably a lot of work,
huh?
For now, just delivering
happiness really works for my
lifestyle, so... namaste.
>> EDGAR: Hold still.
One more.
>> LINDSAY: Oh.
>> EDGAR: Ah.
>> LINDSAY: Oh. Ah!
(Edgar mumbles)
Ah! Oh, yeah.
>> EDGAR: All right, so my
point is, I just don't want to
be some symbol of patriotism.
>> LINDSAY: No kidding.
It's depressing.
Whenever they bring one of those
army guys out to sing the
National Anthem, I'm like, "Ugh,
no.
Where's Beyoncé?"
>> EDGAR: So, how do I get
people to treat me normal?
>> LINDSAY: Stop talking about
it all the time!
If you have a bad thought, just
push it down.
Or eat it, like I do.
I mean, I don't see
you as just some vet.
>> EDGAR: Well, how do you see
me?
>> LINDSAY: As a freeloading,
kind of dumb Mexican guy that
hangs out at Jimmy's.
How do you see me?
>> EDGAR: Um... as Gretchen's
pretty friend who should learn
to be happy with who she is.
>> WAITRESS: Here you go.
>> LINDSAY: Oh!
>> WAITRESS: So, I didn't get a
chance to tell you when you were
here earlier today, but we have
a military discount.
>> EDGAR: Aw, thanks, but... I'm
good.
Psst.
Um, yes, of course I'll have
that discount, thank you.
>> LINDSAY: Ow! Ow!
>> EDGAR: Are you okay?
>> LINDSAY: Yes. The pain makes
it even better.
>> EDGAR: Did you...?
>> LINDSAY: Mm-hmm.
>> EDGAR: Hold on.
>> LINDSAY: It's the best.
Right?
>> EDGAR: Aw. Uh-huh.
>> LINDSAY: Mm-hmm.
(knocking)
>> GRETCHEN: Hey.
Where are you going?
>> JIMMY: To come see you.
I wanted to say, uh, I'm sorry.
>> GRETCHEN: For dissing my
apartment?
>> JIMMY: No. That place is a
shithole, but you're right.
I can be a bit... set in my
ways, and I should have invited
you to breakfast.
>> GRETCHEN: Yes.
>> JIMMY: And I shouldn't have
left your apartment.
>> GRETCHEN: Eh. Actually, I'm
glad you left.
>> JIMMY: You are?
>> GRETCHEN: Turns out I'm
I want things on my own terms,
too.
When I deliver the pussy, I can
leave whenever I want.
>> JIMMY: Sorry. Deliver the
pussy?
>> GRETCHEN: It sounds better
when a black guy says it.
I am probably broken, Jimmy.
I don't know.
My point is, I am done comparing
this to what normal people do.
>> JIMMY: Good.
Why would we even want to do
what normal people do?
>> GRETCHEN: Yeah.
Normal people are terrible.
So am I coming in, or are we...?
>> JIMMY: Yeah, come on.
>> TOMMY: It's nice that the
city unveiled this statue...
but...
it isn't enough...
because we hurt inside.
Every day we ache for our fallen
brothers.
We ache, yet nobody pays
attention!
Well... you're going to pay
attention now.
(Tommy yells, people scream)
>> JIMMY: Hey, that's the guy
from NCIS: LA!
Oh, no.
Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH