You're the Worst (2014–…): Season 3, Episode 6 - The Last Sunday Funday - full transcript

The gang embark on a very special Sunday Funday.

(restaurant patrons
talking and laughing)

Oh, nude beach. Ball pit.

Strip club. Paddle boats.

LINDSAY: Dildo party.
EDGAR: Turtle races.

LINDSAY: Sex trampoline.
EDGAR: Ah, yes.

Can we do that
at the nude beach?

That could be like third.
What are we doing?

Making a list, ho.

Look around, guys.

Sunday Funday is so played out.

Oh, no. They've corporatized
your cloying, fabricated,

feckless drinking holiday.

'Tis nothing pure anymore?

But this is our special thing.

It's the last thing
that's distracting us

from the constant dangers...
(glass breaking)

EDGAR: Jesus!

(exhales) We have
to do Sunday Funday.

It's my one day off from Paul.

No. You have two choices.

You can either be with Paul
for realsies,

or you can dump him.

I am sick of listening to you
complain about stuff,

and not do shit about it. Fine.

I won't bring it
up anymore, bitch.

Bad friend bitch.

Hey, you can't take
Sunday Funday away from us.

I love it, too, but, clearly,

it cannot continue
in its current form.

But... maybe with
a little creativity...



legend has it,

there is a bar,
a secret bar, so exclusive...

No. We're not doing your stupid

scavenger hunt
for some dumb bar.

You pitch it every Sunday.

It is not just a bar.

It is a secret bar
with a hidden entrance.

A magical land
full of beautiful people,

and strong beverages,

and retro decor,
called a speakeasy.


Goddammit guys, I need this.

I had depression.

That is a legit-ass,
mental-ass illness.

I can't be a pilot. It's a fact.

Also, Jimmy's dad died.

Yeah. About which,
I didn't care.

And I think we both deserve

to have a little fun
after all that.

Also, there's a bar in L.A.
I can't get into.

That is unacceptable.

Well, accept it,

'cause I'm not going
on a scavenger hunt

to find a speakeasy.

Easily the worst development
in bar culture

since Internet jukeboxes
and big ice cubes.

(whining) Oh.


Goddammit. Fine.

I will come along,

but I'm not solving any riddles.


If it keeps me
out of the house...

I'm in.

Oh, can we call it
Sunday Funday, anyway?

Absolutely. Yay!

I have the first clue bookmarked
on my phone.

The site is blank except
for this dumb symbol.

You can't click on anything.


Source code.

There. See those numbers?

They're outside
any command fields.

It's a message.

It's an address.

We won!

Ugh, never mind.

Too short for coordinates.

Maybe it's date and time.


Do we what?

Dewey Decimal.

Do... we... decimal?

Yeah. When I'm writing money.

Or when I get to
the end of the thing,

and you go "boop" with your pen.

Boop. JIMMY: Jesus Christ.

The numbers refer to
the Dewey Decimal system.

So we should go to the library.

ALL: Oh.

♪ Sunday Funday

♪ Better than a Monday

♪ Can only do it one way

♪ And that is the drunk way

♪ Sunday Funday

♪ Better than a Monday
Puzzles! Mysteries!

♪ Can only do it one way.

I got it.

♪ I'm gonna leave you anyway

♪ I'm gonna leave you anyway ♪

♪ Gonna leave you anyway.


Ew, books are gross.

Here Lindser, I got you a book.

Har-har. (Gasps)

Here's a book for you.

It's called "How Not to be
a Bitch for No Reason"

on Sunday Funday".

Oh, look. Here's one.

It's called
"I'm Living a Double Life,

"and I Can't Be Myself
Around My Husband:

The Lindsay Jillian Story",
volume two.

Where's volume one?

There is no volume one.

You're just that stupid.

EDGAR: She he be
doing that here?

That's weird. Isn't that weird?

I look at porn all the time.

The bank, the nail salon.

That dog store on Fairfax

that won't let me
foster puppies anymore.

Here we go.





"Speakeasies of Los Angeles."

This must be it, right?

It has most of the numbers.

But then what are
the extra numbers

in the secret code for?

It's a page number.


Oh, my God.

Duh. You're so smart.

(gasps) There's a photo.

This whole thing's
just so mannered.

A library, rare books.

So twee and completely...

The piano.

Could it be something
about the sheet music?

Ah! That's ingenious.
It's a ragtime.

You can tell from the stride
in the left hand.


I took piano lessons.

Mom used to challenge me

to see how loud I could play

while her and her scene partner

ran lines in her room.

Do we know anyone
who knows ragtime?


God damn! These pixels
look big as shit!

So I just got a fun
piece of news.

Shitstain and Jaclyn eloped.

(gasps) Oh, my God! Sweetie!

That's amazing. Congratulations.
Thank you.

Yeah. We were in Vegas
checking out Gilles Goujon's

new schnitzel restaurant
in the Wynn, and figured,

why not start the rest
of our life today?

Yeah. Isn't that a fun surprise?

It puts shit into perspective,
like how you can live

your whole life alone
and... it's-it's fine.

I mean, I'm...
(chuckles) I'm-I'm fine.

SAM: Now, let's see, it
looks like it could be

the "Hot For Florida Rag."


that repeating figure
could be...

Oh, tricky.

Hold my bigifier.

(playing ragtime melody)


It's called "Happy Toes,"

and it was written
during World War I

by Cornelius
"Eight Fingers" Gimble.

"Happy Toes"? That's the clue? EDGAR:
Oh, I don't... I don't know. I'm not sure

how weed will affect me
these days.

Actually, studies have shown
that marijuana can curtail

being completely lame.

JIMMY: Ha! You gave in

to peer pressure. (Chuckles)

This is really smooth. Keep it.

Do you want to join
the scavenger hunt with us?

(music stops)
Hell no! I am frightened

by puzzles and general trickery.

The dope thing about this song
is, midway through...

Switches into a minor key.

So it's like "Happy Toes,"
but then it's like "Sad Toes."

(playing in minor key)

Happy toes,

sad toes...


So, what's the clue here?

Hand job massage parlors?

Pupusa ladies?

Girls wearing jeans
that give them long butt?




Ooh. Ooh. (Soft grunting)

(Lindsay groaning)

Give us your secrets!

I guess

he's not for us. Oops.

Paul would be so good at this.

You've said his name twice.

Once more, you summon him like

If you want to say something,
say it to my face.

Fine. A: You're boring.

B: I know it's you who's
been wiping boogers into

my glove box, and
C: You're a liar.

You told me to wear my
stains on the outside!

You can't even let Paul
know you have stains.

You and me...
We're in a fight now!

Good! (Phone ringing)

(gasps) Ow!


WOMAN (over phone):
Sigh for me now.

Oh, my God! Holy shit!

Sigh for me now.

She wants us to sigh for her?

Sigh for me now. How
do you sigh again?

(both sighing)

Sigh for me now.

(all three sighing)
JIMMY: "Sigh for me."

Cypher. Cypher. (Sighing)

It's a cypher. It's a code!

Cypher the words
"me now" on the keypad.

Six, three, six, six, nine.

Six, nine. (Laughs) Nice.

Nothing's happening.

(loud clink in phone)

Oh, my God! I mean, yes.

It's cool, that.

(gasps) It's a key! Baby key.

How are we supposed to know
what it's for?

Where you going?

LINDSAY: Oh, no. We scared that man
so much, he dropped his typewriter.

He was for us. I knew it!

And what was the plan
if we hadn't scared him?

Hand it to us? Stupid.

It's okay to admit that
you like this, Jimmy.

I just want to find this bar
so that I can tell

whoever made this amateur game

what a minor league
effort it is.

(both gasping) What the...?

GRETCHEN: Oh, my God!

That's insane! Okay.

That's quite clever.

The masturbating homeless man's
computer took the photo.

But why photos of us?
What does it mean?

That we're the bar.

The bar's inside us.
(Gretchen gasps)

There's something on the back.

It's a map.

But of what?

Looks like titty veins.


Train lines, maybe?

Do we know anyone who's
knowledgeable about trains?

Paul is a long-time t... No!

Beetlejuice, bitch!

(crowd chatter)

Wèi, everybody.

I bring Boba, or bubble tea.

Oh, no! Aah! Oh, no!

I'll just have a sip of yours.
No, you won't.

You girls and your
antics. (Laughs)

Okay, so, the blank map

you sent me is indeed the old
Pacific Electric Railway system.

And you see here

is the one spot they
erased from your map.

We are standing
in the exact spot

of the missing Red Car station

for what is now
known as "Chinatown,"

or... (speaking Chinese)

It's got to be the
fortune cookie factory.

(gasps) (exhales)

Come on, Lindser.

Don't you want to come with
your husband whom you love so?

Yes, Lindsay, do come!

I'm busy.


(sighs heavily) Okay, well...

(Paul speaks Chinese)

How's it going?

I went off my meds because
my dick didn't work,

and now I'm totally
freaked out by everything,

but this pot is
mellowing me out, so,

that's an illegal temporary fix.

(rhythmic drumming)
How about you?

I have to Gone Girl myself

and start over
where nobody knows me.

I'm the hottest girl
by, like, millions,

because, you know, America.

(firecrackers popping) You know, the
scariest thing for me was to decide

that I needed to try to
figure out my stuff on my own,

not just what
they tell me to do.

Maybe before you
do something drastic,

why not just try the thing
you're most afraid of?

You mean ask Paul
to accommodate my needs

within the confines
of the marriage?

You had that right in
the chamber, didn't you?

I mean, sure.

Why not?

So everything triggers you?

(fireworks popping) Oh, yeah.

I'm worse than ever.

Even, like, small noises

or someone yelling will
just send me, like, to...

Edgar? Turn around.

(drumming, firecrackers popping)

Has that been going on
for a while?

Holy shit.

I didn't even flinch.

I'll be right...
I'll be right back.

"The sun always shines
after a downpour."

Well, first of all,
meteorologically inaccurate.

Second of all, meaningless.
I don't think the clues

are in the fortunes.
(Paul groans)

I shouldn't have inhaled
all that slippery shrimp.

I'd already chugged
the egg drop soup.

And that whole fried fish.

I have such a weakness
for Cantonese, Sichuan,

Shandong and Zhejiang cuisines.

Jiangsu I'm a little iffy on.

Ooh. Anything to eat in there?

(Edgar panting)

Immersion therapy.

(siren wailing,
train bell clanging)

Are you sure about this?

(train whistle blowing,
Edgar inhales)

Do it!

♪ Ah

♪ Ah

♪ Ah

♪ Ah

♪ As the day sets into the sky

♪ Bottle rockets

♪ Mothers are calling

♪ It's time to come home

♪ Oh

♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ Oh

♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ Oh

♪ It's time to come home

♪ Ooh-upa, ooh-upa, ooh-upa

♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh,
ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh-ooh,
ooh-ooh, ooh... ♪

(Edgar groans)

Hey. Hey, wait.

Oh, stop.


You okay?

(sighs, panting)

(panting loudly)

I did it.

(laughs) GRETCHEN: Okay.

Come on, guys.
Let's get serious.

What's the next clue?
(mocking): What's the next clue?

Stop it! Stop it!

There is nothing here.

We have wasted a whole day!

Look. Look.

Oh, look, look.
Shut up, asshole,

and look at the dragon!

You are a genius.


That's it.


If it gave me a virus, I'll...


GRETCHEN: Holy shit.
It's taken over my phone.

Give me back my phone!

(slow beeping)

This way.

(steady beeping)

(beeping accelerating)

(rapid beeping)

(phone dinging)
This has to be it.

I'm tired.

Let's just go to a bar.

PAUL: This does seem fruitless.

Plus, my stomach
isn't quieting down.

Yes, Jimmy. You got this.

Go, boy. Get us to that bar.

It's the symbol.

Right there.

The wire is the arc.

The street is the line.

The house is the triangle!

It's the house.

The bar is the house!

Of course it's gonna
look like not the thing.

That's the whole stupid point
of stupid speakeasies.


(exhales) Yeah, but...

this really doesn't
look like the thing.

Shut up. Have faith.

(people speaking
indistinctly inside)

(woman speaking Spanish)

Oh, uh...

I'm sorry, wrong address?

Well, great, Gretch. You wasted

this entire Sunday Funday.
You have been

a gigantic bitch all day,
and I'm sick of it.

Oh, are we seriously
gonna do this?

Because I've been waiting

my whole goddamn
life to do this.

I was born to do this!

They were too happy.

They were too happy.
No families are happy!


They were actors.

Jimmy, I think this is over.

No. In battle, we risk all

for a taste of the immortal.

In retreat, sure,
we lose nothing,

but what we gain is
far worse than nothing:


And shame.

We don't give up
because they make us.

We give up because we're lazy!

Or would rather drink

and watch Treehouse Masters.

Plus, no one tells my girl
she can't go to their bar!

I can go anywhere!

Except Nina's... she's
mad for some reason.

And Ye Rustic.

The Ace Hotel. Saddleranch.

Sagebrush Cantina.

The Alcove. 4100.
The Tap Room at the Langham.

Oh, my God. How was
I supposed to know.

Wolf Blitzer was married?

Once more unto the breach.

(both yelling)

It's gonna be somewhere weird!

A closet, a wardrobe,
the fridge!


I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Ha. Nice touch.



I don't understand
what you're saying.

Ooh, flautas.

Mexico's spring roll.


Oh, nice acting, dummies.

It's got to be in here.

(toy squeaking)

I really thought
they were actors.

It's okay, Jimmy. We tried.

It's cool, man.

Why are you so relaxed?


Wait, the police
let you keep your drugs?

So incompetent.

(stomach grumbling) Excuse me!
It is with great distress

that I must ask
for a moment of privacy.

No, Paul! You are not
using the toilet in here.

PAUL: Were that I
could make it so, wife,

but the situation
has become dire.

GRETCHEN: Lindser, I'm sorry.

Even though it's
super boring for me,

and believe me girl, it
is like TED Talk boring.

But it's my job to
listen no matter what.

(panting) LINDSAY:
But you're right.

Sometimes I do wish
he would just disappear.

(wall closes)


I'm a witch.

I wish for $100.

Gather 'round quick.

(latches opening,
all laughing excitedly)

(Edgar giggles)

(jazz music playing,
people talking indistinctly)


Welcome, players.

You have traversed a great
and difficult distance.


A night like no other awaits.

JIMMY: Thank you.

My, it was an ordeal indeed.

I have so many questions!

Two rye Manhattans please.

That'll be $42.

Oh, my God,
you got to be shitting me.

I'm sorry, Jimmy.

This place sucks.

Speakeasies are lame.

Well, I told you.

But I found it for you.

I beat them. We wanted
each other to be happy.


(gasps) Ah, there you are.

Excellent work with the QR code.

Let-let me ask you
about the, uh...

masturbating homeless man.
Was he...

Why didn't you want
to be with me today?

Paul, I can't pretend to be

someone I think
you'd like anymore.

If we have any chance,
I have to tell you what I want,

and you have to decide if
you can live with it or not.

All I've ever wanted
is the real Lindsay.

Tell me.

Your wish is my...

I want to bone other guys.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no.

(sing-songy): No, no, no. Jimmy.


You can't do that.

That would break my heart.
No, Paul,

it's for us.

You can watch.

I mean,

I'd like you to watch.

I want to be a family,

but I also want to be happy.

You want me to be happy, right?

I consent.

(gasps) Yay!


I love you so much.

This is going to be
so good for us.

(exhales, then soft chuckle)


♪ Oh, it's right time...

JIMMY: Hello, hipster dorks

(music stops) of the speakeasy.
(man whoops)

My name...

is Jimmy Shive-Overly.

And I'm gonna sing you a song!

(jazz music plays)

♪ Happy toes

♪ Time to say good-bye to woes

♪ Every Jack and Jill knows

♪ She's the gal for me

♪ Happy toes

♪ Happiness I will impose

♪ From New York

♪ To Idahos

♪ 'Cause I'm in L.O.V.E.
I'm in love ♪

This is the last
Sunday Funday, isn't it?

Oh, yeah. ♪ ...Decompose

♪ Smiles fell like dominoes

♪ I've lost my gal

♪ So if you see her,
tell her please ♪

♪ That I am crawling
on my knees ♪

♪ Happy times

♪ Please return to me

Yes, indeedy!

♪ Happy toes,
from now on there's ♪

♪ No more lows

♪ With me and my gal

♪ I'm on top of the world.

(dog barks)

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH