All language subtitles for King of the Hill s11e03 Blood and Sauce.eng

Yep.

Yup.

(squeaky snarl)

Now that Joseph is 13,

I'm teaching him the family
exterminating business.

I've named this
little fella Joseph.

To be an effective
killer,

you must learn to first kill
a little bit of yourself.

Well, I guess it's sort
of good for Joseph to, uh...

learn the family trade.

It's a father-to-son
heritage thing.

As a father yourself, Hank,

who has sired an heir
on your woman, you understand.

(loud cry)

(sighs)

You're fine.
Right, Bill?

I wish I had a son...
to pass things down to.

(crying)

Boomhauer, can you
get him a...?

(sighs)

Dang it.

All right, Bill,
let's hear again

how you're lonely and
childless and whatnot.

Okay.

So I think that's
the saddest thing about being alone.

Well, no, no. Actually...

Bill, stop it.
You've got family.

You have your
cousin Gilbert

in the swamp
in Louisiana.

And that old fella
in the iron lung--

maybe he's still kicking.
That's a start.

But we...
And I bet there's more.

I hear you
can hire a genealogist

that will find
family members for you.

A genealogist can find them?
Huh.

MAN:
Lots of Americans

have ancestors
who were royalty:

African princesses,
Gaelic chieftains.

Tracing them just
takes time and money

and a flexible definition
of "royalty."

I have all three!

But I want to find my living
relatives for a family reunion.

Find living people?
All right!

Now, I assume you've already
tried calling Information.

It's time to take it
to the next level.

I'm going on a site
called Google.

Oh!

And, if the fork
comes out clean, your cake is done.

I did it!

I can bake! Yeah!

HANK:
Bobby?

Are those... oven mitts?

Hank, this is not
what it looks like.

Dad, I'm just going to
come right out and say it.

I've baked a cake.

What? No.

I think cooking is something
I could be good at.

It's just like shop,

but, when you're done,
you get to lick your tools.

Shop is nothing like baking!

You can't live
inside a cake you've built.

You... you can't cut your
finger off with a pastry bag.

My family! 85 names.

Well, a lot of them
won't be blood kin,

but I say,
"It's a family reunion!

Invite 'em all,
and let God sort 'em out!"

85 people?!

That cable spool you call a
dinner table only seats six.

You sure you can
handle this, Bill?

I don't know, actually.

I'm making my family's
traditional Cajun barbecue,

so I got so much to do--

clean my house,
order 15 whole pigs,

and get those little...
What do you call

those little paper napkins
they decorate with?

I've never celebrated
anything before, Hank!

You have to help me!

(sighs):
Don't worry, Bill. We're on it.

Oh, thank God.

Okay, now, remember, everyone,

we will be
cleaning Bill's house,

so we got a lot of work
and not much time.

Dale, you handle

the silverfish.

Boomhauer, you clean
out the garage.

Peggy and Nancy,
you tackle the bathroom.

(gasping)

Hank? I'm going
to need a pit hand

to help with
the barbecue.

We can be pit hands!
Pit hands!

No. I thought Bobby could do it.

But I thought
you didn't want me to cook.

It's not cooking, Bobby.

It's barbecue.

Mr. Dauterive,
I'm so ready for this!

I want to make sauces
and stupid mad vinaigrettes!

Well, that's great, Bobby,

but first we have
to build a barbecue pit

and stock the fuel.

Oh.

So what do you want to do?

Stack bricks or haul wood?

I'll haul the wood.

Bill, we found that picture
you've been searching for.

It's our last family photo. Oh!

That's Uncle Honore

after the swamp fever
claimed his eyesight.

That's me.

And there's my cousin Gilbert.

What a time we had!

I would climb trees and swim,

and Gilbert made ball gowns
out of old mosquito netting.

It's all so beautiful.

I can't thank you enough.

Well, it was close,
but we pulled it off.

Bill, that is a well-
made barbecue pit.

It's an old family design.

Wow, son.
You helped Bill build that?

How did you keep
your bricks so level?

Did you go with
the Hansen pattern or the McCauley?

Well, you see, bricks
have very brick-like, um...

So when you have two bricks,

there's some
stuff involved...

Sorry Hank.
It's a family secret.

I swore Bobby to secrecy.

Right, Bobby?

Uh... yeah. I swore.

All right, then.

Well, I thank
you all.

You've been
like a family to me.

But now my real
family is coming, so good-bye.

(doorbell rings)

Wait! Wait! Coming!
Please wait! Don't go!

Guillaume...
you are a vision.

And that necktie
would be elegance itself

if it were
knotted properly.

Ah! Gilbert! Bienvenu!

Uh... anyone else?
Isn't there anyone else?

Only you?

Only me? Whom
were you expecting?

I had...
I had a... a list.

Alas, we two
are the utter end

of the Dauterive blood.

The family tree
can be safely

cut down, and used
to build our coffins.

May I come in?

There's no one but us?

But what about Aunt Esme
and cousin Violetta?

Aunt Esme died
of fever,

Violetta died
suddenly in her sleep.

The swamp takes
what it calls its own.

Let me tell you
of our ill-fated kin.

Consumption, drink,
impostor,

madhouse, public madhouse,

barren, barren, barren.

Well, pretty much
this whole left side,

leaving only us.

My whole life
is a waste.

I'll never pass down
anything to anyone.

You personally, no,

but the Dauterive name
will live on.

"Dauterive's Monthly.

A Southern review of arts
and letters."

A small

but proud periodical
I have founded

that will preserve our name
for generations to come.

"Printed on acid-free paper."

Naturally.

Wow. How you paying for this?

Our land has been sold
to be turned into either

a water park
or a catfish farm.

Seems to depend on whether
the Euro remains strong.

Hi, everyone! I brought you
some barbecue

so it doesn't go to waste.

Oh, uh, thanks.

Are you sure you don't want
this for yourself, though?

I mean, you usually like
to eat a lot

when your plans are in ruins
and whatnot.

No, everything's great.

Gilbert and I are starting
a poetry magazine.

We're not going to be parents,
we're going to be publishers.

Think about it.

A kid lasts only about,
what, 80 years tops?

But literature goes on forever.

See ya! Enjoy!

(sniffs)

Well, it smells decent.

"Poetry magazine"?

I cannot freakin'
believe this stuff!

Tell me we are
not out of ribs!

No, thank God.

Mm, wow.

What smells so good?

It's your barbecue, son.

Oh, yeah.

And it is the best
got-dang thing

I've ever tasted.

Come sit at the head
of the table.

You earned it.

Dad, Mom,

I didn't help
Mr. Dauterive.

I ran off because
the work was too hard.

(sighs)
Well, that's just more for us then.

Hey, you didn't work
on the barbecue either!

But I also didn't
lie about it.

I said I was sorry.

Shouldn't you reward me
for telling the truth?

No.

Yep.

Mm, yep.

I do declare.

Mm-hmm.

Oh, God!

So, Bill, what's
you're, uh,

secret with this
pork shoulder?

The secret?
Well...

Yes, the recipe was honed
by generations of planters,

country lawyers,
gentlemen of fortune...

and their cooks and man servants
and so forth.

Well, Gillaume,

as much as I shall
miss the dazzle

of the local repartee,

I fear I must take
my leave

and be off to Austin.

Leave?

But we were having so much fun.

There's a young poet there
whom I hope to... publish.

But...

my family!

He just got here,

and now what if he gets hit
by a bus or something?

Then I'll have no
relatives and no legacy.

That's a lot
of "what ifs," Bill.

In the meantime,
see what you did?

You made some dang fine

barbecue.

You, uh, think I could
have some more leftovers

to bring with me
to work?

Mine! Mine! Mine!

Mm, hot damn,

that is a
flavorful rib!

It's like them bones
never even existed, honey.

Well, I'm glad
you're enjoying it, sir.

I tell you something,
ol' top.

If I knew this
bad boy's secret,

I could make me
a second fortune.

Might come in handy
if my bastard son Ray Roy

ever gets hold of
a competent lawyer.

Buck liked my barbecue?

Yep, and he wants
to round up big investors

to take your recipe public,

so you'll have
to make them a tasting batch.

Wow, Gilbert will preserve
our name with his magazine,

and now I'll get
to pass it down, too.

People will eat my food
and say,

"Boy, those Dauterive's
were something

It's a shame
they're extinct."

I'll get right on it.

I'm sorry I ditched
last time.

I want to help.

Are you sure, Bobby?

I don't cut corners
with this recipe.

I'll carry bricks,
hammer nails, pour cement,

whatever it takes
to be a real cook.

Mr. Dauterive, there's a blender
right there

with a "chop" setting.

I bet it could get
through these onions in no time.

(chuckles)

Well, that's fine
if I'm grinding up old sandwiches

for breakfast hash,

but as my Uncle Honore
always said,

"Shortcuts taste
like un chien mart! (spits) Eh?"

(both grunting)

Now we can add
the marinade.

Huh, needs more garlic.

By family tradition,

we only light the fire

with a page of good
news from the paper.

"Baboon arrives safely
at Space Station."

Space monkeys are
always good news.

You're on your way
to being a real cook.

You do the honors, Bobby.

Well, Mr. Strickland
should be here soon.

How'd my boy do, Bill?

I couldn't have
done it without him.

He tended the pit
for 20 straight hours

and only passed
out once.

Well, all right.

There's my Cajunator.

Okay, boy, time to meet the team
and jump through a few hoops.

There's quite a fete going on
at my cousin's.

Oh, lawd, I still have
my Austin face on.

So, Ted, you ready to invest
in hillbilly sauce genius?

Quiet, Kahn.

I'm running numbers in my head.

Okay, everybody, I'd like
to introduce you all now

to the man behind
this food,

Mr. Bill...

Guillaume!

What is all this?

Now hold on, Gilbert, we...

Sir, you are no kin to me,
so I will have your silence.

Guillaume, explain.

People like our food so much,
I wanted to pass it on,

just like the magazine.

And these rich fellas,

they want to make a line
of barbecue sauces

made from the Dauterive recipe.

Are you mad?

We are a family
of proud landowners.

Of state senators
and literary men.

And you want to sell
our family tradition?

For... money?!

Well... kinda.

(spits)

Shut down this... whorehouse!

Uh... okay.

I'm sorry, everyone,
but the kitchen is closed.

Bill, no.

What the heck
are you...

Hank, he's my only relative.
He's all I have.

I can't go against him.

Bye, everyone.

See you in...

See you later.

GILBERT:
How could you do it?

Tell me that.

Tell me how, how, how?!

Bill does not deserve to be
left alone with that...

Gilbert.

I'm going over.

I have sacrificed our land
to preserve our dignity.

(whimpering)

What would you have done

with your
streetwalker's gold, eh?

Bought more of these?!

"Double-Stuffed Chocolate
Sandwich Cookies"?!

J'accusel!

(cries)

Say, how you doing there,
Gilbert?

Bill, I brought you
some coffee.

Sir, leave us. Let
the Dauterives nurse their wounded pride in darkness.

Yeah, I keep hearing about
the Dauterive pride.

But right now, all I see are a
crying drunk and an angry sissy.

If you've got
any real pride,

stop kicking a man
when he's down.

You want to talk
more about this,

you and I will do it outside.

Guillaume, I am returning
to New Orleans.

(hisses)

Bill, why don't you
forget this joker,

and let Mr. Strickland
and his business partners invest in you?

When you were busy cooking,
you were so happy and proud.

I was, wasn't I?

Okay.

I'll do it.

But I have to get
Gilbert to agree.

Aw, Bill...

I didn't make the
recipe, my family did.

It's not mine
alone to sell.

Hank, if I don't
act honorably,

there's no point in
preserving my name.

It's just a word that women
have trouble remembering.

Ha-ba-hey.

Are you speaking to me?

Want to buy a
(garbled speech)?

(wheezing)

(sneezes noisily)

I'm sorry.

Not at all.

I think it was
Lucretius who said

"Nothing human disgusts me."

Yeah.

Lord.

Gilbert,

Mr. Strickland
has a proposal.

Yeah. How do.

Now, I understand you
a literary man from 'Ouisiana.

Now, you and me, we gotta
do the Quarter some time.

Boy, I could show you
some things, huh?

My word.

Anyone else want to
give this a whirl?

If you let me
sell the recipe,

I'll give you my share
of the profits

to help pay for the magazine.

Can't be done.

A gentleman never
reverses his decision.

Do look me up, though,

when you pass through
New Orleans.

I could show you things as well.

Yeah... (chuckles)

Yeah, let's, let's,
let's go, ol' top.

There ain't nothing
more here to try.

Oh, please, please,
let me do this.

I don't want to die with
nothing to show for my life

and nothing to pass on.

Just say yes, and I'll
never bother you again.

My dear cousin...

my only cousin...

my answer is still no.

Above all,

the Dauterives must
go down to darkness

with their honor intact.

Trust me, one day
when you're on your deathbed

all alone, you'll thank me.

(cries)

And so, adieu.

Now, I have matters
to discuss

with my new
acquaintance.

You were saying...?

I gotta get me
a (gibberish speech)

I'm not gonna open
the door just yet.

Maybe I'll just
stand here a while.

It'll give me something
to look forward to.

Oh, what's the point?

(clanging)

Bobby?

Mr. Dauterive,
I had a great idea

on how to improve the glaze.

I mixed cayenne pepper
with the brown sugar.

What do you think?

Well, Bobby.

Ooh, it has an under-taste.

Bobby, that's very good.

Now when you hit the stores
with all your sauces,

maybe you can call this your
"Sugar and Spicy" version.

Bobby, I don't know
how to say this,

but I can't sell the recipe.

I can't even sell the sauce.

There's no point in thinking
about this anymore.

Oh.

But...

I guess there's no reason

we can't make it
and give it away

at, say, a party for
your Mom's birthday.

It's the 17th, right?

If you say so.

And you know,
when you grow up,

there's no reason
you can't

make it and give it
away, too.

That'd be great.

But... I'm not a Dauterive.

Bobby, trust me.

I'd be honored.

Ha-ba-hey.

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