All language subtitles for Little.Demon.S01E08.WEBRip.x264-ION10

I was friends with one of
the snakes on Medusa's head.

I ghost wrote a novel
for Herman Melville.

I own a Valentino
the Bear Beanie Baby.

The lie is ghost wrote
a novel for Melville.

Wrong.
Never owned a Valentino,

but I wish
I jumped on that craze

early on like my cousin.

Now, he owns a farm
in Gloucestershire.

- Hey.
- Hey.

How was school?

I got a B-plus on
my "Call of the Wild" essay.

Ms. Rainy says I have
"wild dog" in me, like Spitz,

but I know I'm more
of a Buck babe.

Oh, Ms. Rainy's back.

Well, proves my point.

This country is cool
with lady pedos.

- How was work?
- Bill Jr. is getting a divorce.

- The guy with a giant head?
- Mm-hmm.

It's like his ears are in
different time zones.

Ugh, it's enormous.

It's like the defense budget,
but a head.

- Tacos for dinner?

Tacos are fine.

Herman wanted the line
to be "Ishmael's my name,

don't wear it out."

I was like
"You're a fucking dumbass."

Chrissy, come on.

What'd I say about
dirty dishes?

Not to leave them
in the sink.

- Yeah, well, what's this?
- Not mine.

- Erwin?
- Oh, no, no, no.

I've been as clean
as a house cat.

Besides, no way I'm losing
potty privileges again.

I didn't even use
a dish today.

Had a bowl of Coco Poofties
for brekkie.

You had eggs.
It could be yours.

Well, I'm not the one
who drops turkey slices

behind her bed and doesn't
notice until the cockroaches

move in, so--

Um, you leave ogre intestines

hanging in the garage.

The rats love that stuff.

The smell wards off creatures

who are trying to kill
my daughter.

Use a dish, wash it after.

It's really not my dish.

I'm gonna have to get
this place fumigated

for the third time this month.
- We got an ETA on the tacos?

Isn't it kinda weird that an
anarchist who rewires

street meters because she
doesn't believe in paying

for parking is obsessed with
house rules?

Obsessed?

Sweetie, look around.
Do I have a choice?

It's just like, at Dad's,
we don't even use dishes.

We eat raw plankton
out of skulls.

Okay.
Well, we live in suburgatory.

Your choice, not mine.

And here,
we take out the trash.

We do laundry. We clean dishes.

Maybe you fixate
on things like dishes,

because you have no life
outside of me and this house,

you know?
- All right.

Well, we've all made
some great points.

Um, no life? Okay.

Yeah. Loosen up.

Find a hobby.
- Well, you know what?

I could take up cross-stitch

if you weren't out taking
Kraken carriage joy rides

and destroying realms.

What's that supposed to mean?

Contribute to
the normal life you wanted

or accept that
you're not cut out for it.

Because you are becoming more
like the devil every day.

I'd rather be like him.

He enjoys life, embraces mess.

He's not bitter all the time.

Maybe if you were more like him,
I'd like you more.

Huh.

I-I ever tell you guys
about the time

I pooped myself at an equinox?
- Okay.

Don't clean the dish.
- Great.

Thank God.

It was in Zumba
during "Despacito."

You know what?

Fuck dishes altogether, right?

- Come on.
- Yeah, no, no, no.

Fuck the laundry.

Let's get a little
down and dirty, huh?

I had to take a shower
with my clothes on.

So you're gonna act like
a teen in a John Hughes movie

because I hurt your
big mommy feelings?

Hey, I'm just taking a page
from the Devil's handbook, baby.

That's what you wanted, right?

Where are you going?

To eat Coco Poofties
in my room,

away from the psycho bitch.

Wouldn't a more fitting meal
for a gross, messy demon

be these high-protein roaches?

You and your dad eat them fried
or à la mode?

Fine. Okay.

We're doing this.
We don't have to.

You wanna know how
we do it at Dad's,

good old-fashioned demon style?

I'd fucking love to.

We throw pickles on the floor.
I just bought those

pickles.
- Then we lick it up

with our lizard tongues.

Oh, honey, you seem upset.

Isn't this what you wanted?

Or should I go back to
sacrificing my happiness

for your selfish needs?
- Oh, no.

I love this change.

In fact, I'll make you dinner.

How's about rat?

They're diseased, rabid,
and hate-filled, like you.

Oh, that's funny,
because roaches are like you.

You know, they eat human flesh?
Really?

Even if you feed them,
care for them,

they'll chew right through you.

How 'bout we eat buffet style?

Yeah!

Oh, I love a buffet.

Buffets are cesspools
for--oh, oh, God.

Whoa.

Hey, Laura,
I have an insane hangover.

Do you have any pickles?

Oh. They're on the floor. Okay.

Oh, hey, Darlene,

have you met the chill
new fuhrer in town?

Say hi to the demon
that lives in my house.

Oh, jeez,
I haven't felt this uneasy

since my divorce attorney

asked me to read her screenplay.

Darlene, get out of here.
Uh, no.

You can do whatever you want, Darlene.

Go. Definitely go.

You're like
a roided out toddler.

The only thing you're good at
is breaking shit.

I'm the destroyer?
Right, right.

After what you did
to your friend?

Don't you fucking go there.

Oh, what?

Don't talk about how you
turned your best friend

into a fucking blob monster?

You asshole!

- Oh, God! Ladies!
- Okay.

You wanna be
a full-blown demon?

I'll treat you like one!

Bring it on, bitch!

This is war!

Oh, I think
I just wet myself.

Equinox all over again.

So then, I said "Lighten up.

What is this,
a fricking funeral?"

It was, but still.

Whoa. Cool.

And that's why
I'm signing this bill to

shut down Italian restaurants
that have lied to me

about their wait time.

Oh, shit!

I gotta see what
they're feeding on.

Bite her. Bite her.

Ladies, please.

Please, let's just
take a breath,

with a gas mask or something,

'cause it smells like shit
in here.

Stay out of this, Darlene.

Hey!
Watch where you're poking me!

My roaches are gonna
eat your rats' heart out.

And my rats are going to
rain hellfire on your roaches.

Rats, turn her room into
a fucking poop palace.

No! Roaches, to our room.

If they touch my stuff,
I'll torch your weed.

You don't know
where it all is.

Don't rest easy, old woman.

This shit ain't done.

It's only just begun.

Oh, don't you fucking
rhyme with me.

Well, then bend the knee.

Or would you rather flee?
- Ahh!

Climb a tree.
Ahh!

I hope you don't have to pee.

She'll tire herself out.

Roaches,
kill every rat on site.

Protect my stuffies!
- ...to Mackamagee?

Hot dogs. Get your hot dogs.

I should call my husband.

He loves
mother-daughter fights.

Hey, 20 bucks on the kid?

We've got six grand
on the mom.

She's a cold-blooded
psychopath.

Oh, God.
Thanks for coming so quick.

I know you're still torn up
about Chrissy

turning you into
a conjoined Stay Puft man.

Yeah.

At first, I was gonna
ignore your text.

But then, I woke up
in the fetal position

with an intense pang of guilt.

So I came here.
What's happening now?

Laura and Chrissy both
retreated to separate parts

of the house
where they're working on

their next plans of attack.

So we gotta talk them
off the ledge

before things go any further.

We do?

If they walk themselves
to the ledge,

don't you think they should
find their own way down?

No way.
As their friends,

it's our job
to be waiting below

with a giant trampoline
so they bounce when they fall,

instead of explode
into a bloody mess.

Okay.

But let's not jump
to conclusions.

It might not be as serious
as you--

Soldiers, I've gathered you
all here today for a purpose.

No longer shall I live
under the hand of a tyrant.

She may be a stone-cold bitch

with a seemingly unbreakable shell,

but even that devil dog,
Spitz, in "Call of the Wild"

had his weak spot.

He had no imagination,
no cunning, like Buck, the hero.

We will psychologically
break her.

We will bite down on her leg.

She will beg for mercy.

And we will give her none!

We are Buck!

And we will defeat her!

My estimation,
she takes a bowel movement

every three hours.

Let's lock off the bathroom, people.

Ah, yes.

Prima, Hilda, you've done well.

You're the adult--

shouldn't you
take the high road?

If I allow her
to bulldoze me,

the little power I have over her
will vanish.

I'll become nothing more
than a limp, wet chode.

She must--
she will bend the knee.

I hate to admit it,
but I am rock hard right now.

Where the fuck is my phone?

Back down,
Chrissy Feinberg,

or I delete
your Shitsta account.

I'll never back down, hag!

Deleted!

You bitch!

Say goodbye to your weed!

I'm gonna fuck this weed!

That's it!

Your phone's gonna
see you in hell.

Her mom is stone cold,
and I respect and love it.

- Gut-wrenchingly iconic.
- We love a bitch.

I stand corrected.

Things are sufficiently
heated up.

Time for action.

Ooh, since inside's
a germ-riddled kill zone,

we're gonna mediate
the situation from out here.

I did get high school
guidance counselor

on an online career quiz.

We just need to wait for the
rest of our party to get here.

- The rest of our--
- Boom shakalaka,

you trick-ass hoes.

Daddy's here.
- No.

You called him to help?
- Desperate times, hun.

But he always has
ulterior motives.

I learned my lesson with him.

Ha! You sure did.

And once Chrissy offs her mom,
which, by the looks of it,

she will,
nothing's standing in the way

of good old Maximus Dawnus.

I'm just gonna make sure
it's a lock.

Toodle-oo, double dongs.

Okay, Mr. Mephistopheles
isn't helping.

But no sweat, because this
is gonna be easier than--

Hey, fuckwad!
check out V-Bone.

Guess you can't drive away
from this problem!

Skidang!
Girls got puns.

Well, good luck getting
anywhere now, freeloader.

I'm gonna burn all your
stuffies, starting with Maude!

You touch her,
I'll torch your Tempur-Pedic!

What the fuck do you want?

Okay. Cool.
Uh, we got their attention.

So we could just--

Um, hi.

It's me, Bennigan.

Yes, we know.

Right.

Hi, Chrissy.

Hey, Bennigan.

Um, okay.

First things first,
are you injured?

No.
- You're doing great, sweetie.

Um, well,
I'm still mad at you, Chrissy,

for obvious reasons.

But I don't want you
to get hurt.

I--I think that'd suck.

Short speech, but effective!

Yeah. Hi, gals. Darlene here.

So you wanna rip each
other's heads off.

It's what happens with family.

I mean, one time
my eldest son Trevor

got so mad after I told him
he couldn't watch

"Sex, Lies, and Videotape"
that he ran away

and I found him playing craps
with Duncan Sheik--

The point is, it's difficult
between you two right now,

but you love each other.

Remember that time
you helped your mom

get all those leeches
off of her?

After she purposely used them
to infiltrate the PTA moms?

Yep!
She says she puts me first?

Bullshit!
She's Hitler with boobs.

She's Titler!

And now you're putting down

your Jewish heritage?
So cool of you.

What heritage?

You said Elijah was a waste
of good wine.

I stand by that.

Time for the escalator
to escalate.

Hey, dipshit.
It's Satan.

Tell me where I can find the
worst shit on Laura,

something that'll make Chrissy
go fucking nuts,

or I'll crawl into your brain
and rewire it,

so every time
you touch your butthole,

it feels like
you're covered in lava.

Ah, fuck.

Ladies, look.
I have two daughters,

two wives, a mother,

and multiple
close female friends.

So how about you both stop
torturing yourselves

and eat something?

Why don't you remember the
time that you peed your pants

in front of the whole town?

Shut up, old man!

Uh, thank you, Mayor.
He's a genius.

Come on, you're being too hard
on each other.

Chrissy, I know your mom cares
about you

more than anything in the world.

She infiltrated the PTA

to show you those moms
didn't have doodoo on her.

And Laura,
Chrissy cares about you

more than you realize.

She's a teenage Antichrist.

Every day she chooses to fight
her nature and stay with you.

Look, Chrissy, Darlene is
right about the PTA moms.

I did that for you, mostly.

I always put you first.
- Okay, you put me first once.

Great.

But don't get a big head
about it.

A big head, like
Bill head, big fucking--

big head--big bitch?

That wasn't a laugh.

That wasn't a fucking laugh.
Don't look at me.

Now, we're getting somewhere.

Time to hit 'em them some
'roke to clinch them.

Oh, classic.
♪ Islands in the stream ♪

Listen up, cucarachas.

Sounds like we're a song away
from a mother-daughter

"Shallow" duet,

so we don't have much time.

We're entering the lair
of the wicked witch

to obtain
a heavily-guarded weapon

of mass emotional destruction.

So get your thoraxes in gear
so we can end this war

in your disease-riddled favor.

All right, get in there, guys.

Second wave!

Ignore the dead!

Bring it home, boys!

What's this?

"I think I've found a way
to solve all my problems."

Laura?

Laura, where are you?

I'm here.

I'm right here.

Look, things got
out of hand, okay?

But I'm ready to call it quits
if you are.

"Got the two pounds
of Sphinx flesh, check.

Baryonic matter, check."

Wha--where did you get--

"With this Posterum spell,
I can go back

"and forget I ever met
that sick bastard,

forget I ever had a kid."

Okay, let me explain.

"Forget I ever had a kid"?

What is this?
- That? What is that?

That is just
my journal from when

I was in a very dark place,

drinking lots of tequila.
None of it's real.

Tell me about this
Posterum spell, now.

It was just some silly spell
this old which sold me

when you were four
and we were on the ferry

from Thunder Bay to Waukesha.

I'm sure you're too young
to even remember.

And the spell?

It--you know, it was supposed
to reverse time

and take me back to before
I ever met your father.

And before you ever had me.

Well, technically, yeah, but--

Erase me from your life

so you could start a new life
without me.

That's putting me first?

At the time,
I thought I was doing

what was best
for the both of us.

We'd been on the run for years,

living off of beans
and food scraps.

You were starving.

- Jesus fuck.
- But the spell didn't work.

So yay.
And--and I regret--

You actually tried?

Why would you even try,

on your own fucking daughter?

- I--
- Why?

- I--
- Why?

Because your birth
felt like my death.

I mean, no.

I didn't--I didn't mean that.

You evil fucking cunt!

Incoming.

This is what I'm talking about, baby.

I feel alive!

Ow!

Here comes daddy.

Oh, my God!
Shit!

So this is how it ends,

with a bang, not a whimper.

Huh, TS Eliot was wrong.

Well, at least he was good
in "Road House."

Fuck you!

You robbed me of a childhood
and fucked me for life.

You did it out of spite.

I hate you!

Wait.

I don't--how does this--

Nothing a little divine
intervention couldn't fix.

I told you.
I told you it was a bad idea

to invite him.
- Listen,

I was giving him a shot.

Everyone has layers.

I don't.

Later, losers.

This family keeps showing us
who they are

and somehow we keep expecting
something different from them.

People can change, Benny.

Clearly, this family can't.

And ever since they moved here,

it feels like I've been living
in service of their lives.

Even when we have our own thing
going on,

they find a way to make it
about them.

You know what? You're right.

Screw this. Hey.

How about we go
enact our independence

on the karaoke machine
at Gumbo Sheena's?

Sold.

But dibs on "Total Eclipse."

Bonnie Tyler's my girl.

- That's fine.

I prefer
"Holding Out For a Hero."

Chrissy?

Come out and let's talk.

Okay?

The spell was a moment
of desperation.

It was stupid.

I honestly thought
it was the only way out.

I was so young and rash,

but I worked my ass off
to help us survive

and be your protector.

Wow. How selfless of you.

Mind mess 'em ups!

Laura.

So I haven't been the
perfect mom, but I'm trying.

"I'm twying."

I chose this life
with you every day.

I chose to sacrifice--

Sacrifice?

What did you sacrifice exactly,

an internship
at a slaughterhouse?

Slaughterhouse? No.

Oh, but I was an apprentice
at a kill shelter.

Your life was going nowhere.

Chrissy, please.

If anything, I define you.

And you hate me for it.

- No. No!
- Admit it!

I hate myself, okay?

For being resentful and unhappy
with my life when I shouldn't.

I'm a shit person.
I failed us.

I failed you.

I've been trying to fake my way
through motherhood,

but the truth is
I'm not cut out for it.

And I'm afraid I never will be.

All right, everyone,
pack it up.

Um, I think I'm gonna head
to Dad's for a bit.

Yeah, cool.

Cool.

Oh.
No, don't worry about me.

I just dug myself out,
for fuck's sake!

I was cruel to my wife.
I admit it.

I used to think because
I could throw things farther,

grow hair in more places,

I deserved to climax
and she didn't.

Now, I know my hatred of her
and all women

came from a fear of rejection,

as a man and a sexual performer.

Born out of,
not to sound cliche,

a toxic relationship
with my mother.

And I can say this
across the table

to a woman I've just met,
because, recently,

I was liberated from my hatred
of all women,

my ire distilled
into a singular object,

the little girl
who got my dick shot off.

Decimating her soul
is my life's purpose.

And yes, I don't have a dick,

but if we choose
to take things further,

I believe my metal replacement
won't disappoint.

How would you feel
about dessert?

Eh, it's her loss, really.

Not everybody's ready for a man
who's so set on his goals.

Still, glad I went.

You miss 100% of the shots
you don't take,

and I'm done not taking shots.

After all,
as Lil John and LMFAO said

"Shots, shots, shots, shots,
shots, shots."