You're the Worst (2014–…): Season 3, Episode 3 - Bad News: Dude's Dead - full transcript

Gretchen enlists the gang's help to deliver some bad news to Jimmy so she doesn't have to albeit derailed by celebrating with an epic day-party. Lyndsey comes to terms with stabbing her ...

♪ I wanted out again

♪ Wanted you, so fun

♪ But I did...

So you remember Jimmy,

right? Oh, my God. Gretchen.

Tough titties,
it's a free country.

Anyway, I have to have this
really sucky conversation

with him and I don't
want to at all.

Your appointment
isn't until next week.

You cannot just show up places.
Well then,

stop Foursquaring yourself
every time you leave the house,

like the Mayor of
Thirsty Town. Also,

stop using Foursquare
like the Mayor of 2011.

Okay. So you need something
from Jimmy.

Yeah. I need his dad
to have seen a cardiologist.

Ha-ha, snap.

He died?

I'm so sorry. When? Okay.

So here's the part where

you feel like total dog shit.

Remember you made me
open my mail?

Well I did. And boom.

There's his dad's obit.
And I'm like,

"Well, shit!
How am I supposed to tell him?"

So how am I supposed
to tell him?

You haven't told him?
No! Ew! I couldn't!

He was so stoked
about selling his book.

And then I got busy and forgot
for a couple days.

But then, I was gonna tell him,

and I got preoccupied by this
iguana on Instagram

who is just so over it.

It's gonna suck so bad.

I get it. It's tough.

The idea of seeing
Jimmy in pain...

No, this is gonna suck for me.

We've been having
hella fun lately.

Boning like crazy.

I tricked him
into giving me backrubs,

saying that it made me horny.

Jokes on you, dummy.
I'm horny already.

What if I just never tell him?
I-I don't like

to tell my patients what to do,
but Jesus Christ, you have to

tell Jimmy his father died.
What if he cries,

and I see
the sad little boy inside?

I don't want to tell him.

I know. And I've met Jimmy...

That sounds disgusting...
But you have to.


I suppose you want me
to pay you now.

Ugh, you owe me a five spot.

♪ I'm gonna leave you anyway

♪ I'm gonna leave you anyway ♪

♪ Gonna leave you anyway.

Right. Remember,

the look we're going
for is jocund but...

profoundly tormented. Okay?

Uh, what's going on, Jimbo?

Jacket photo. It's a bit early.

But I'm planning on
going full D'Onofrio

once the advance money comes in.

Can you take a little break?

God, no, woman!
There's too much to do.

Now that the starting gun on
the Grand Prix has sounded,

the instant that I take my foot
off the proverbial gas

to celebrate, shall materialize
five other writers

in my side mirror
just ready to pass me

on the Autobahn that is
the publishing industry...

to clumsily mix European
race car metaphors.

As a veteran
writer girlfriend now,

you know that the work

is never-ending.
But you spent the last

few months drinking
and jerking it

to the Lane Bryant shoe catalog.

If I have to explain this
one more time:

It's all writing.

Um, I'll be quick.

Listen, Jimmy...

No, I'm sorry. Look,

this is gonna be a
very long, arduous...

Yet certainly rewarding...
Journey for you,

at my side, so before
the madness begins,

as a pre-ward, I want to take
you on a restorative trip.

Like a cruise?

Can we go on a cruise?

Um... That's my dream vacation!

My parents always thought
it was tacky.

Okay. Well, if your
idea of paradise

is succumbing to Norovirus
on a floating red state,

then sure!


a water slide
and-and a musical revue

and if the grown-ups
are busy gambling,

you hang out with
the other kids and just color!

Okay, I need to get back to my
shoot. I have a liquid brunch

with my editor, so we can
plan marketing strategies.

Sounds fun!


Every mimosa is a chore.

Okay? Every sip is a brick
in a literary wall

that I'm painting... Got it.
Yay! Cruise!

Okay, back to work. Props.

Ooh, you hungry?

I could eat.

May I help you?
We're with the network.

So, how's your gimpy husband?

Poor Paul. He's off the couch,

but his wound keeps getting
reinfected somehow.

I poked around there

with my fingers,
and couldn't find anything.

I feel guilty because
of how much he suffered.

And because you
stabbed him on purpose.

I didn't want to kill him,
I just snapped.

Oops... I knew it.

Lindser! Oh, my God,
I thought I was scared of you

that time you yelled
at that cop in Tijuana.

You should be scared.

And it was so easy.

I was just like...

Poking some cheese.

Poking some cheese?

It's spooky. Afterwards,

I kept telling myself
I didn't do it,

until I actually believed it.

Like how Oprah can
eat bread now.

You don't love Paul.

That was true for Old Lindsay.

New Lindsay can put
any thought in her brain.

Like that upside down
movie with Juno and the dreidel

and Tom Hardy
with the tight pants.

If I can incept

myself I didn't stab Paul...

maybe I can incept myself
into loving him.

How are things
with the Jim-dogs?

Oh, suck-balls. His pops croaked.

So what's the probs?
I haven't told him yet.

And now my therapist is making me.
You can't tell him, Gretch!

The second those words
come out of your mouth,

you are no longer
Jimmy's fun sex hole.

You're the guys at the beginning

of Saving Private Ryan who
make the moms fall down.

You're right!

That titty-sucking bitch
is trying to

straight "Lemonade"
my relationship.

What do I do? Get some

other sucker to tell him.

Colby! Travis!

You two know
the policy on roughhousing.

I don't care if
you are best friends.

Ten more minutes
and I'm coming in there!

As I was saying,
we've got a killer special.

$49 for three yoga sessions,
or three Pilates sessions.

We also have a
cutting-edge new lineup

of the hottest new hybrid
workouts. Piloxing:

Pilates and boxing, yogitsu:

Yoga and jujitsu,

Spinning and rowing,

That's Zumba while you

binge-watch Justified, it's actually
not really... Edgar, shut up.

We need to tell you a secret. No, no,
no, no, no. I-I don't want any secrets.

You love secrets.

Secrets are your favorite thing.

No, this is a really
bad time, okay?

I've been stuck with processing
some events, like the time

we got pinned down
outside of Tikrit

and we had to improvise body
armor with tank shrapnel.

That's not so bad. Or like the time
I was so thirsty I shot a camel.

'Cause the humps have water in them?
Because you thought there was

water in the humps? Yeah.

Turns out they don't work
like that. Anyway, seriously,

I-I don't have any room in my
head for any more dark...

Jimmy's dad died
and he doesn't know.

Jimmy's dad what?

Oh, God.

Poor Ronny, poor
Jimmy, poor camel.

Poor Bing Bong.

Everything's bad, you guys.

Everything's really, really bad.

So you'll tell him, yeah?
Thanks. No,

no, no way! I...

I told enough people

that someone
that they love died.

I have an idea.

When my parents got divorced,
they told us at Benihana's

so we wouldn't cause a scene.

The chef put a shrimp
in his hat.

How'd that work? He just
put a shrimp in his hat.

No, I mean,
telling you in public.

Oh. It totally made us
not freak out as much.

Except later, I drank my mom's
mai tai and climbed on the table

'cause I forgot it was a grill.

That's why I don't have


So, maybe I invite
a bunch of people over,

and then everyone
tells him together.

And then he associates
the sadness

with you jerks, and not with me.

That suddenly sounds bad for us.

I got to go, you guys.

I'm late teaching Treadsparent.

It's running on a treadmill
while you watch...

We get it.

These hand crutches
were all Lindsay could find

at the medical supply.

I don't like that place.

So many weird toilets.


I love sneaking an extra
dessert, don't you?

One's for me, one's for my baby.

I'm not giving
my dessert to your baby.

Oh, right, you meant my baby.

That's right,
I'm still pregnant.

Check it out.

Looks like a normal vest
with a ton of pockets, right?


Harmonica vest.

Ever since I Venmo'd
a year's salary

to some chick in the Ukraine,

I can only have hobbies
that cost less than $25.

Hell yeah!

Hey, everybody.

Uh, thank you so much

for coming to Jimmy's

you-sold-the-book party.

Um, small change
of plans, though.

Jimmy's dad passed away.

What a major tradge, but...

happens every day
on my operating table.

Someone dies every day
on your operating table?

Not literally every day, dummy.
On average.

Our condolences, Gretchen.

We should let you two
grieve in private.

Oh, no, no, no, no!


Um, in fact...

Wait, crazy idea.

Um, why don't
we tell him together?

He doesn't know?

Well, it happened in England.

And there's
a time difference, so...

Yeah, uh, so,
when he comes home,

I'll give the signal,
you guys drop the bomb,

and boom... it's your fault.

Thanks so much for doing this.

Eat cheese, have fun.

Can you imagine?

He was almost my father-in-law.

Of course, I'm much closer to
the whole thing now that I'm

going to have a daughter.

That's right.

We're having a girl.


Isn't that amazing?

Can't you just die how cute

we're gonna be together? Mm.

Of course, it's such a shame

that our gender-reveal party

was spoiled when
those North Korean hackers

stole Vernon's identity.

Becca, we all know
Vernon was a money-slave.

What? No, no, no.

No, that was just
a story he told,

because he was embarrassed.

Bad passwords.

Poor Jimmy.

I lost my dad, too.

Your dad died? No.

I just lost him.

Last week, we were
at the Beverly Center and

he told me to go look at puppies
while he went to Sunglass Hut.

I think we both knew
what was about to happen.

Oh, no. So, I've been

living alone,
sleeping in his bed.

I'm not ready to be an adult.

Contemplate the sundry ways
a society handles its elderly

and infirm. For instance,

the noble Eskimo
sets himself adrift

on an iceberg.

Mm, he's so smart.

You love this smart, smart man.

You love his jiggly body

and square face.

You really do.

He's here!

Get ready.

Gretchen, that brunch
was a nightmare.

The publisher just
kept telling me,

"When I write the book..."

Plus the "bottomless"
in "bottomless mimosas"

means nothing
if the waitress disappears

for ten minutes at a time.

Jimmy, look who's here.


You invited people over.

Is it Oscar night?

Well, keep it down.

I, of course, must handcuff
myself to my laptop

until my book is written.

Good-bye, all.
See you in the spring.

Wait, Jimmy, uh...

Just stay a moment.

Um, everyone's here for you.

You're here to
celebrate my book sale.

Well, it would be
positively unsporting

of me to deny you the pleasure

of basking in my success,
even though

nothing good happened to you.

I never understood
that impulse, really.

Though we do tend to
gather around a fire.

No, Jimmy,
you don't understand, um...

Hey, everybody, could we, um...
And, Gretchen,

my partner in crime,

the diminutive, mole-lipped

Lillian Hellman to
my Dashiell Hammett.

You have been so supportive.

No problem. Uh, the people would
like to tell you something.

So, I was gonna surprise you.

But I did some research.

And I think I found the perfect

cruise for you.

It's called.

"The Famous Pets of
Instagram Cruise."


Sombrero Iguana?

Bus Stop Goat!

Cookie Pig!

They're all gonna
be there for me?

When are we delivering

the package, you know?

The top secret intel? Shut up.

After he buys the tickets.

This is the greatest day
of my life!

I am gonna meet Grumpy Cat!

I sold my book!

We're gonna live forever!

Lindsay, I got champagne

in my wound.

The bubbles, they sting!

You have to flush it for me.

Okay, Bear,
let's go to the sink.

It hurts so bad!

Does it smell funny?

If it smells like eggs,

you have to take me
back to urgent care!

You love him. You love him.

Want to get stupid?

How can you party like this
when you know someone died?

I work at a hospital, dude.

Just 'cause a busload
of dead kids rolled up,

doesn't make it
not Margarita Monday.

Congratulations, Jimmy.

It is really great
to see you so happy.


You have always been
a success in my book.



I picked out an ocean suite

with a porthole
so we can smoke and

I added a meet and greet
with Sarcastic Llama.

They take Apple Pay.

You just have to put
your thumb on the thing.

They don't want me to succeed.

Oh, no,

Jimmy, before you turn,

can you just put your
thumb on the thing?!

Look at them. No!


singing, "Come play with us."

But really

they just want me to pilot
my literary schooner

into the rocks
of do-nothingness.

I invited them!


If you all didn't
want me to fail,

then you would've listened

when I said I have to write!

They're desperately afraid
that I will shine so brightly,

it will illuminate

how dim their lives are

by comparison.

Congratulations, Jimmy.

Unaccepted. This is attempted
criminal derailment.

I don't know what you're
saying, but it sounds jerky.

Yeah, and I'll be sure
to return the favor

and sabotage
your eventual attempt

to do something useful
with your life like

finish your GED

or dance
in your adult tap recital.

It's Afro-funk fusion.

Listen here, buster.

Lindsay is my bride,

she's pregnant
with my offspring,

and she deserves respect!

You love him.

It worked.


I will do you one better.

I'm gonna go downstairs
and get my heckle file.

And after I put you all
in your place,

once and for all,

I'll be free to get to work,

sans distractions.

- Yes.
- Okay, everybody.

Clock is ticking.
Let's rip off the Band-Aid.

Mm, we're going home. Vernon?

But I want to get heckled.

Fine, you can Uber home.

But only the cheap carpool one.

I can't wait to see him cry.

Oh, no, me Da.

Go tell him, Gretchen!

No, Edgar's gonna do it.


I-I can't.

Just do it!

I'm dealing
with some major shit.

Delivering tragic news
is a kind of service.

To sacrifice your own comfort

so they can have
the gift of truth?

That is true nobility.

Like when I was born dead,

I vividly remember the pain
in the doctor's voice

when he told my parents, "I have
good news and I have bad news."

"The good news...

"it's a boy and he's hella hung.

Bad news... dude's dead."

You're right.

Jimmy deserves
to know the truth.

Thank you. You're a hero.

Now, get down there.

Ooh, and remind him
about the cruise afterwards.

Oh, no, wait.

Maybe it's too early.

Yeah, hold it.


More like dim...

Hey, Jimmy.

I'm afraid some of these heckles
are a bit out of date.

"Paul, nice It's Pat cosplay.

"Edgar, I liked you better
when you

"writing and starring in the hit
musical In the Heights.


"heaven must be
missing an angel,

"because an angel
saw your stupid face

and blew its brains out."

That one's evergreen.

Uh, so you know how, uh,
people come into your lives

and, and they touch you?

Is this about you
being molested?


Every neighborhood
had a handsy fishmonger.

No, Jimmy,

it's about your father.

Has Gretchen been
infecting you with her therapy?

See, unlike Gretchen,
my father is a non-entity

in my life.
If this is about anything,

it's about my need
to disprove the notion

that at the core I'm just shit,

which all started
when I was a kid and...

Oh, my God.

This is about my father.

Yeah, okay, see...
No wonder I can't take

a moment to enjoy my triumph.

I-I wouldn't...
He's my true enemy!

Instead of heckling my friends,
I am gonna call that old twat

and tear him to pieces.
Uh, no, no, J-Jimmy!

Thanks, Edgar. Do not do that.

This is the first good idea
you've ever had.

Oh, no, Bing Bong!

Bing Bong!


Oh, no. Oh, this is bad.

This is bad.

Is he crying?

It's really snotty
and moany, isn't it?


I'm gonna move to Arizona

and sell turquoise jewelry. No!

He's gonna call his dad!

Wait, wait!
You didn't tell him?!

Not at all.

Holy crap!

We have to stop him.

Or maybe we don't.

Think it through.

One of the trash-bag sisters
picks up.

Confusion, confusion.

Oy, ya daft fart.

We sent the obit. Da's dead.

And boom!
A couple of weeks from now,

I have a tan line
shaped like Grumpy Cat,

because she's been sitting
on my lap on the cruise deck...

Gretchen, you don't get
to be in charge anymore!

What? You can't do that.

My man takes charge.

Everyone who's not currently
on hobble sticks,

go down there and stop him
from calling his dead father!

A ghost picks up the phone,
I'm gonna shit my pants.

Oh, God.

We're too late.

Shh, what's he saying?

Hey, Ronny, it's your son.

You're probably at the pub

passed out in your stool over

a half-eaten scotch
egg in lard sauce,

but I just wanted
to let you know...

I sold a book, Daddy.

Good luck.

Thanks for sticking up
for me earlier.

Of course.

That's my job.

I love you.


I think my wound
is weeping again.

Hey, dude?

Can I give you my profesh
medical opinion?


You need some help.

I know.

Hey, um...

Just got off the phone
with my father.

Sure gave it to old Ronny.

First, I jabbed him
about his illiteracy

and then his pulmonary
oxygen absorption rate.

Jimmy, your dad died.

Yeah, when I heckled him
so hard.

This came in the mail.
I'm so sorry!

I'm just gonna...

♪ I'm taking off

♪ I've closed the door

♪ As cold as stone

♪ Can't take no more

♪ To be alone

♪ Is where I go

♪ I choose to walk

♪ This lonely road

♪ Change the flow

♪ 'Cause I need
the space to grow ♪

♪ Hope you'll know

♪ I will find my way back...

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH