You're the Worst (2014–…): Season 2, Episode 3 - Born Dead - full transcript

Gretchen makes an attempt to reconnect with her old group of friends by throwing herself a housewarming party. Jimmy does his best to affirm his belief that friends are for babies. Edgar ...

- Oh, no. Oh, my God.
- What's wrong?

Oh... never mind.

I thought Lena Dunham's dog died.

Whew.

It's just my aunt's.

Whoa.

Heather's pregnant.

- Who?
- Heather, she's pregnant.

Ha-ha.

- Holy shit.
- Who's Heather?

Heather.

Yeah, I understand it's
a name commonly given

to human women in the '80s,

but I have no idea who Heather is.

Heather.

Oh, my God.

Ow! How do you not know who Heather is?

Heather of "Heather, Gretchen,
Bernadette, Justine, and Cory."

My main crew, my girls.

I've never heard of any of these people.

Heather used to work with Justine.

But not Tattoo Justine, Ecstasy Justine.

And Bernadette used to
date Rose's boyfriend

when they were in that band together,

and then she started dating Rose.

And Cory was the bartender at Pistol

where we used to drink all the time

because they had great trance
night and even better cocaine.

I've literally never heard any
of those words from you before.

Except cocaine.

I can't believe she's pregnant again.

What a dummy.

I wonder how much abobos
even cost these days.

I should offer to go with her.

We could get
post-abobo Mani-pedis.

Oh, Gretchen, you don't need
to pretend you have friends.

What? I have friends.

No, there's nothing wrong
with not having friends.

I don't.

You don't have any friends?

Nope, friends are for babies.

Even my grandma has tons of friends.

You never outgrow the need
to feel connected to people.

Nah, not me.

So if you're so close,

why haven't I met any of these "girls"?

I haven't seen 'em in a couple months.

Been super busy.

Yeah, with my dick.

Sorry, I've been doing
a lot of online gaming.

I'm in a war with this
autistic kid from Sweden

who keeps blocking me on Instagram.

Oh, you're on Instagram?

Yeah, mostly I just use it to stalk Vernon.

His photos are tragic.

Ooh, I want to see.

Did he get a selfie stick?

What the... ?

- What did you just do?
- I accidentally liked his photo.

Oh, quick, uh, unlike it.

Goddamn it, woman!

I did it really fast.

I'm sure he didn't even notice.

Oh, my God!

Finally happened!

Sorry about that.

Yeah, so... turns out,
you're gonna lose the leg.

Yes.

... Synced and corrected by ChrisKe ...
... www.addic7ed.com ...

You're so lucky you live near water.

You live half a mile from the ocean.

Ugh, seagulls, sand dollars.

Fat people in blankets
drinking orange soda.

No thanks, ocean.

Ooh, another dick pic.

And... forwarded.

Online dating is so fun.

Who are you forwarding them to?

This gay porn site pays
me ten bucks a dick.

I have a job.

Look.

Ew, whose pee stick is that?

Heather, she got herself knocked up again.

You know, "Heather,
Bernadette, Justine, Cory."

Oh, yeah.

I haven't seen those basic hos in a minute.

Probably 'cause you went
into hiding on the west side

where no cool girls deign to go.

Well, I'm back in the real world
and crushing this dick pic game.

Well, I'm glad.

I was a little worried
about you after Paul left.

I'm not gonna lie.

It's hard when you
reach over in the morning

and there's no one there

except for the sandwich
you fell asleep eating.

You need closure from that nerd.

You know what? I'm gonna have a party.

Mmm. Reconnect with my girls, throw
down old-school like we used to.

I've been looking to rub Paul's face

in how dope I look and how fun my life is.

Inviting him to a get-together

where I'm smooching some Tinder
rando is a perfect way to do it.

It's not a "get-together," it's a party.

My girls don't do "get-togethers."

Par-tay.

Par-tay...

Excuse me!

You dropped something!

No, it's more to the left.

I really think

Lindsay is beginning to
consider me, you know?

- Sexually.
- Ugh.

I was wondering if I should make a move.

That's a terrible idea.

That's exactly what I thought,
because she's still married.

That's not what I meant.

I mean, I come from a family of honor.

Well, directly, I come from a family

of home invaders, identity thieves

and, in my Uncle Xavier's case,
the butt-stabber of San Pasqual.

But my lineage is one of honor,

and so to clean the deck ethically,

I'm gonna ask Paul for
permission to pursue his wife.

Please videotape that exchange.

That way, I'll be free to
put the moves on Lindsay

at our party.

What party?

Gretchen's throwing a party for her girls.

I never agreed to a party.

We proxy-voted you.

You lost
two-to-one.

Wait, if you didn't know about the party,

why'd you think we bought all this alcohol?

Oh, great, now I have to go
back to the store for my stuff.

Edgar.

How nice of you to visit my
little backyard Shangri-la.

Wh-Whose house is this?

My biking buddy Connor.

His wife Mimi died recently,

and I wanted to make sure he wasn't alone.

What happened?

Recumbent bikes have many good qualities,

but they're sometimes
hard to see from up high.

Oh, no.

The driver of the semi
never knew she was there.

Poor thing was dragged three miles.

You've never seen Connor pedal so fast.

He kept motioning frantically
for the truck to stop,

but the driver thought
he wanted him to honk.

She was actually alive until
the semi got on the freeway.

Well, that's the most terrible story...

Sad thing is, Mimi didn't
want to go out that day

because her safety flag had been
stolen outside the junior high.

But Connor told her they
could stop at the bike store

after they raced to Starbucks for tea.

Uh, please give my condolences to Con...

The really sad thing is that
Connor wanted to let Mimi win

because her impetigo had
been flaring up again.

That's the only reason she
reached the intersection first.

I don't need to hear every...

The extra sad thing is, the
whole time she was being dragged

towards the on-ramp,
she was texting Connor.

Her phone still accessible in its holder

on the handlebars, you see?

I saw the texts.

They're quite chilling.

You had something you wanted to talk about?

Yeah, I have to be up front with you.

I'm gonna go after your woman.

Please don't go after Amy.

Oh, uh, no.

- Lindsay.
- Oh.

Well... I'm actually glad
to hear she's moving on.

Now I can move Amy out of the Days Inn.

Then it's a win-win.

Few of those in this world.

Tea time's always hardest for Connor.

My date tonight is everything Paul isn't.

He's tall, he's thin, he's dumb.

Look.

And he's fun, too.

He spells "titties" with a "Z."

You're so getting murdered.

I know.

Hello.

Um, excuse me.

Excu...

Hello.

Can you read?

Why is Killian bartending?

Oh, while I was unloading
the car, he snuck up on me

and said that things were scary

because his parents were
taking some time apart.

Then he asked if we were having a party.

He caught me at a weak moment.

So you put him to work?

What?

I'm supposed to just let him
mingle at an adult gathering?

Good point.

I am so stoked for you to meet my girls!

- Ugh.
- They're super hard-core.

Bernadette is such a lush.

And no shit, I wouldn't be surprised

if Justine tried to blow you.

She bangs everyone's boyfriends.

Then she's super apologetic about it.

This party's gonna be so dope.

I thought it was a get-together.

We have a bartender.

Oh, no.

Gretchen, I've been catfished.

Oh, buddy.

He's actually a
nine-year-old boy.

His stepmom caught him
sexting with some other skank,

and she wrote to me.

No wonder he didn't know
how to spell titties.

What am I gonna do now?

Paul is coming; I'm gonna
look like such a loser.

How old are you?

Sorry, ma'am, I'm working.

They're here.

Bitches!

Oh.

Shh...

Whoa, did you bring your
own pony keg to the party?

You drunk.

It's a baby.

Oh, why do you have a baby?

Because I had a baby.

Oh.

Okay.

You're not still pregnant, are you?

I think so.

Ew, I'm sorry.

I hate that.

I mean, if you're willing
to drive to Whittier,

there's this place you can just walk in.

It's right near a Marie Callender's.

We can make a day of it.

- What are you drinking?
- I'm not.

I mean, if you're getting rid of it...

Oh...

Huh.

Where's Cory?

She hit a bit of a rough patch.

What's going on?

We're "Heather, Gretchen,
Bernadette, Justine and Cory."

None of us have actually had
much time to hang in a while,

so this is like a
mini-reunion for us, too.

Okay.

Well...

please tell me you're
still a total alcoholic.

Of course.

- Thank God.
- I do. Every day.

Jesus Christ.

Hey.

We're out of chips.

Uh...

Listen, I've been thinking a lot

about what happened the other night.

- What happened?
- Well, I know that I was

"taking photos" of you
for "dating purposes"

with "guys who have a lot of money

and/or giant hogs... "

You memorized my profile.

Look, Lindsay,

I'm in a really good place right now.

I feel strong

and ever since you got separated from...

- Paul.
- Right, Paul.

So I... Hello, Lindsay.

Edgar.

- Hey...
- Hello, Paul.

Look, Lindsay,

we didn't want to ambush you, but, uh...

What the farts?

Hi, Lindsay.

Listen, I'd never want to make you feel

uncomfortable at your own party.

Paul told me you'd be okay with this,

but eek, you know?

I'd feel better if I heard
it from the ol' horse's mouth.

Are you calling me an old horse?

And scout's honor, if
you want us to skedaddle,

well, we'll get skedaddlin'.

Well...

it might have been a little weird,

but ever since...

this happened,

any jealous bone has left my body.

Old bone out, new bone in.

Okay. Phew.

I'm Amy Cadingle.

Edgar Quintero.

- Lindsay's honey.
- Mm-hmm.

Edgar.

F.T.W.

That means "for the win."

Hey!

There you are. I got your message

on my 'Gram.

Received loud and clear.

Oh, goddamn it, Gretchen.

I don't know what it is

about us that our
relaish keeps going south.

Maybe we just have too much in common.

We have nothing in common.

We're like Hall & Oates.

There's clearly

frisson between them, you know?

And maybe it's the
electricity of two alphas

that's caused them to churn
out the finest catalog of hits

in pop history.

So let's get past all this nonsense

and make our "Method of Modern Love."

That isn't even one of their better songs.

You're right.

It's their best song.

We have a great rapport.

You should do my podcast.

Jimmy!

Great party!

I have a girlfriend.

It wasn't really my intention

to get into education,

but when I substituted that first day,

it just kind of... clicked.

Remember when you had that birthday party

and we locked you in your bedroom

'cause you were yelling at your guests

and threatening suicide by cop?

Mmm. Unfortunately.

And then you climbed out the fire escape

and came back in the front

and yelled, "I'm back, cocksuckers!"

That was hilarious!

That was mortifying,

actually. It's a great story.

I have enough of those to last a lifetime.

Yeah.

Well.

Seriously, thanks for inviting
us to your get-together.

- Party.
- It seems more like a get-together.

It's a goddamn party...

Okay, Gretchen.

Oh, my God. Look.

Cory!

Thank God you're here.

How are you?

Need A Drink status.

Ah. That's better.

'Sup?

Hi, Cor.

Mm-hmm.

What's that?

It's my baby.

Gross.

And I'm gonna go over here.

Nice to see you, Cory.

Cor, I'm pregnant. Could you not...

Not smoke at a party?

No, I cannot not smoke at a party.

Can you not bring your
unborn tummy worm to a party?

Gretchen invited us,

offspring and all.

I didn't actually invite babies,

- per Se.
- Mega-burn.

Okay. Well, I guess I'm
going over there, too.

I mean...

I am so glad you're here.

They are so different, it's insane.

Could I have one of those?

A dollar.

Ha.

Are you serious?

Shit, yeah. It's 2015, bitch,

and EBT ain't even trying
to let me buy smokes anymore.

Never mind.

So what was that all about?

Heather thinks I stole her stereo,

suspicious-ass bitch.

- Oh, my God, that's crazy.
- I know.

I just borrowed it.

I was totally gonna get it

back from the pawnshop

and then she got all aggro,

and I was like, screw that.

That no-trusting-ass
bitch.

It was just on principle.

Plus, I had this dog

and it bit this kid in
the face and that was

a whole thing, so it's not like

I wasn't gonna get high.

Yeah. Totally.

So whose house is this?

Mine.

Oh.

All right, now tell me whose nut

I should suck on.

I got kicked out of the
shelter again for fighting.

The amazing thing about 3D puzzles

is that they force you

to use multiple axes
of your cerebral cortex.

Me habla puzzles.

Right?

Ooh, boy.

According to my life-logging app,

I haven't consumed this much alcohol

since after Mimi's funeral.

Don't worry.

I shall "boot and rally."

Hate that dork.

Why's he got to ruin puzzles

with a third "D"?

Want to game it up?

Sure.

People think Joss Whedon sold out

when he did "The Avengers",

but that's like saying

Hugh Howey should have
never expanded "Wool"

from a Kindle Single to a full novel.

"8:23 p.m. Vomited.

"Color: off-white.

Contents: beer comma hiking gorp."

And there you are, honey.

What's that?

What are you doing with your hands?

Sorry. It's ASL.

I work as an interpreter.

My parents are both deaf.

Sometimes I don't even notice I'm doing it.

I'm learning, too.

He's a natural.

Ah, somebody's slurring!

Hey, Gretchen, thanks again,

but it's kind of late for us.

Don't leave.

I-I'm sorry.

I know it's been, like, almost a year

since I last reached out.

It's been over three years.

It has?

Really?

It's okay.

You know, things change.

That's God's business, not ours.

Come on.

Let's go out some night
soon, just the four of us.

Really catch up.

You can get a babysitter.

Dump the kid, we can party like we used to.

The thing is, Gretchen,

I don't want to dump the kid.

You'll understand someday.

Bye, sweetheart.

Hey, I made more mashed
potato savory cupcakes.

I'm not hungry.

Edgar, I'm sorry.

For what?

For using you to try to make Paul jealous.

Amy's great.

Crazy boring

and, yeah, she has that
thing with her eye, but...

she's nice.

And you're nice.

And Paul is nice and I'm...

well... not.

I think you're great...

No, I'm materialistic.

I'm incapable of being alone.

I never really learned
how to shower that good.

I almost always forget
to flush the toilet...

What are you doing?

Sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Good thinking.

He's watching. Kiss me harder.

It's just like I told Gretchen.

Friends are for babies.

And just because I fell in feces

and all the kids called me

"Shitty Jimmy," and I was
the smartest kid in my class,

that has nothing to do with
why I don't need friends.

Jimmy, I want to tell you something.

I was born dead.

Sorry, what?

No pulse.

Totally blue.

I died for, like, 15 minutes.

Then...

Bam!

Alive.

You should've seen the priest's face.

If I could change

just one thing about myself,

it'd be that I was born alive.

But you know what I realized?

When it comes down to it,

we're all born dead.

It's only through other people,

through friends, that we become alive.

Not a last-second mucus vacuum.

Thanks, man.

I love you so much.

Get out.

I know it makes

a lot of people uncomfortable,

but you'll see, I am
just like everybody else.

- Mmm.
- Oh.

Thanks for letting me
come to your party, Jimmy.

You're a really good friend.

Oh, goddamn it.

How'd it go with your girls?

They're not my girls anymore.

You were right. Friends are dumb.

I told you.

Those basic hos are super basic.

Ooh...

That's nice.

I didn't know things had changed so much.

I just want to go dancing like we used to.

Just one more time.

No, thanks.

I'll go dancing with you.

You will? Okay!

Let's go!

Ooh...

I mean...

we have booze and music.

We can just dance here.

That sounds perfect.

Oh, God.

Hey. Where's the stereo?

'Sup, short round?

Want to buy a dope-ass retro turntable?

Comes with most of the wires.

25 bills.

I only made six dollars tonight.

Simple-ass midget.

... Synced and corrected by ChrisKe ...
... www.addic7ed.com ...