Original subtitles

LINDA: Okay, uh, just get here as soon as you can, okay, Gayle?

Oh, and by the way,

Gene has the stomach flu

and he's barfing and has crazy diarrhea,

so he's spending Thanksgiving in the apartment bathroom

and we all have to use the bathroom in the restaurant.

What do you mean, "which Gene?" Our son Gene.

The guy who you met at the bank that time?

Why would Gene from the bank come to our dinner?

(laughs): Get out of here. All right, I'll see you soon.

Well, news flash, I'm already tired of Gayle.

Yeah, me, too. But she'd better hurry,

because my roasted pear and Brie en croute appetizer

is gonna be done in 20 minutes.

Yeah. Uh-huh. Great. Yeah.

You guys are, uh, excited about

all the new, innovative menu stuff

-I'm doing this year, right? -About what?

My new, innovative Thanksgiving menu.

Baked Brie and roasted pears appetizer,

rosemary bread, sausage and chestnut stuffing, and...

You know, I've been blogging about it all morning, Dad,

-Yeah? -and, ooh, what's this-- an e-mail?

-Yeah? -I just got a book deal.

Y-You got a book deal, from your blog?

I got a book deal. They want to print the blog.

I know that's an imaginary computer, but...

can I see the e-mail?

Oh, sorry. It's confidential.

I really wish Gene wasn't sick.

He was so excited about all this new food.

Aw, poor Gene, getting stomach flu on Thanksgiving.

Yeah, you're supposed to have a buffet, not a barf-et.

Well, hopefully he's feeling a little better.

I'm gonna go give him the sip test and find out.

-Wish me luck. -Ooh, sip test.

Now this is exciting.

Sippee-ki-yay, mother-barfer.

Well, I'm excited about you.

(high-pitched): And we're excited about you, old man.

(regular voice): Wait, why'd you call me old?

(high-pitched): Sorry, it's just, uh, it was a fun nickname.

Hi. How's my little barfy baby boy?

Oh. I'm great.

Ooh, I love the eye shadow.

Yeah, I was bored and I found

some old makeup in the medicine cabinet.

I also found some old medicine, but I'm gonna sell it.

That's a great plan.

Also, I wrote a song.

BOB (distant): That was beautiful, Gene!

-Thank you, Father. -Okay, it's time for the test.

You know the drill.

If you can keep some crackers and ginger ale down

for 30 minutes without barfing or juicy-pooping,

you can come out for Thanksgiving dinner, okay?

If not, you got to stay in here, honey.

This apartment's too small for anyone

with the stomach flu to be mingling.

It's our system and it works.

I bet he barfs in ten minutes. Should we do a pool?

GENE: I am not gonna barf again. I'm feeling great.

I'm eating. Mmm, mmm.

I'm drinking... (slurps)

And see? I'm fine.

It's coming out both ways again!

Oh, God, I got to sit down... No, I got to stand up.

-(retches) -I'm so sorry, Gene,

but no Thanksgiving dinner for you today, baby.

GENE: That wasn't me. That was a pigeon that flew in here.

He seems very sick. I can come to dinner.

I'm... (retching)

BOB: Here we go.

Brie and roasted pears.

Oh, I can't eat this. I'm lactose intolerant, Bob.

You know a psychic told me that.

Yeah, Dad, you know a psychic said that!

Uh, I guess you could just pick the pears out and eat those.

The recipe called for apples, but I used pears.

-TINA: So bold. -(Gene moaning)

Oh, my God. My ghost Devin must have followed me here.

-He's obsessed with me. -That's not a ghost, Gayle.

-It's Gene. -Girls, go check on him.

You doing okay in there? How's the barf biz?

GENE: I think I pooped out the part

of my brain that knew everything that was happening

-on The Kominsky Method. -Whoa. That's most of his brain.

Wait. Do I smell warm cheese?

Do you guys have Dad's hot Brie out there?

-No. -Ugh! It's bad enough

I have to smell the rosemary bread baking in the oven.

I can't believe I'm missing the best food day of the year!

It's not fair!

Is there anything we can do for you?

Do you want us to do a dance?

Uh, I-I mean, we could do it and then describe it to you?

Tell me a story. Take my mind off this agony.

-What kind of story? -A story about anything

other than food.

(gasps) Wait, no. Make me hate food.

-Okay, okay. You want to hate food? -Yeah.

(chuckles) I'll make food wish it'd never been born.

So, it was Thanksgiving Day, 1987.

But inside the chopper of the elite special forces unit

led by Gene "Dutch Oven" Belcher,

no one was celebrating.

The Melted Butter River. Beautiful but deadly.

-What?! -I said "The Melted Butter..."

I can't hear you. The helicopter's too loud!

-What?! -Huh? -What?!

-GENE: Never mind. -COURTNEY: What?!

Welcome to the jungle.

(chuckles) Like in the song.

Come on, follow me. Let's move!

All right, here's the deal.

The cabinet minister went across the border

on some kind of mission that I'm not gonna explain right now

'cause it really... it was just to set the plot in motion.

-Right. -Anyways, lot of action in the Wheat Jungle this time of year.

People smuggling wheat to make fresh rosemary bread

for Thanksgiving dinner.

Thanksgiving dinner? I never eat it,

because I don't thank the world.

-LOUISE: It thanks you -It thanks me

-for saving it. -for saving it.

Well, if it isn't old Dutch Oven.

If you smelt it, you know I dealt it.

Sorry I'm so strong.

Sorry I'm so strong.

But even Dutch Oven wasn't ready for what was about to happen.

Because waiting for them out there in the wheat trees...

Wait. Wheat doesn't actually grow on trees, it grows...

-Oh, my God, Tina. -Oh, oh, okay.

I was just getting to the exciting part.

GENE: Uh, plus, I'm pretty sure wheat

-grows on trees. -Correct, Gene.

Like I said,

waiting for them out there was the most terrifying creature

that special effects could make in the year 1987...

...the Bread-ator.

So, Bread-ator. It's like Predator, but made of bread?

Yes, exactly. And Gene is going to hate bread

by the time the story is over.

COURTNEY: That helicopter is all messed up.

GENE: And the whole crew is gone.

Yeah, maybe they went to go look for snacks.

Or they became snacks.

GENE: (gasps) Mother of Mindy.

That's the cabinet minister and his security detail.

-Are they dead? -No. They're breathing.

But it looks like they've been turned into human carbs.

LINDA: Hey! What are you doing on my turf?

There must have been a mi-mi-mi-mix-up.

-Gayle, take their weapons. -Okay.

-Who are these guys? -Just some local smugglers.

Let me do the talking.

Look, Linda, we're not here for you.

Got a couple of our guys turned into freaky-flaky pastries

by some kind of psycho.

So just let us go so we can find

-whoever did this. -Wowzers.

Those are some creepy croissants.

GENE: They got twisted up.

LOUISE: The Bread-ator started firing huge globs

of unbaked dough at the squadron,

but it could make itself invisible so they couldn't see

-the monster as it attacked. -Take cover!

I'll load the Bun Blaster!

-Who's firing at us? -Not "who." "What." Look.

-(groaning) -LINDA: Oh, I got 'em!

LOUISE: Get down!

-(weapon fires) -No!

-Better bread than dead. -Hey, this one can talk.

Wounding that thing must have made it less powerful.

LINDA: Oh, my face!

Oh, no.

BREAD-ATOR: Ow!

Ow, ow, ow, ow.

-We got to go after it. -No, no.

We've got too many people turned into bread products already.

I need you to go back to the camp on foot

and come back here with a chopper and some Saran Wrap

so we can keep our friends from going stale.

What about the monster?

That doughboy is about to step into the oven.

The Dutch Oven.

-Oh, what a cool thing to say. -I know. Now go.

Ooh. I look good.

I'm just gonna eat one of me.

-Hey. Get back here. -Don't eat me. I'm you, stupid.

LOUISE: Dutch Oven tracks the Bread-ator

along the edge of the Melted Butter River.

And then it attacks him and they do

the classic action movie roll-around fight.

And then Dutch falls into the river...

and tumbles over the butterfall.

Oh, no, I'm tumbling over the butterfall!

-Ugh. -LOUISE: And when Dutch Oven

crawled up on shore coated in butter,

he made a surprising discovery.

It can't see me when I'm coated in butter.

How convenient.

I can't believe it is butter.

Time to carbo-load.

Your bread is buttered.

Aah!

Goodbye, gluten mutant. You're toast.

-What a cool thing to say. -Thank you.

Let's go pick up our bakery order.

I... don't get it.

Go pick up our friends who turned into bread.

Got it, got it. That is also a very cool thing to say.

-LOUISE: Oh, I know. -GENE: I'm really sorry I ruined it.

LOUISE: You did, but it's fine.

And that was the end. Until the sequel.

So do you hate bread now?

Mm, maybe a little,

but I still love every other food.

-And probably still bread. -BOB: Guys, I need you

-to set the table. -Oh, unfortunately,

my story didn't make Gene completely hate food.

Now Tina needs to tell him a story where food is the enemy.

And also, I need to be here in case her glasses fall off.

-(shouts) Oh, no. I can't see. -I got them.

Uh, okay. Wait, why is food the enemy?

GENE: Because if I can't love it, I have to hate it, Father.

So, I guess I'll set the table, then?

-Seems like the best plan. -Just have fun with it.

GENE: So Tina, what's your story about?

TINA: Oh, um...

My story is about pears.

You think pears are just a fruit that Gene might like to eat.

But he wouldn't, because pears can be very, very dangerous.

The year was 1997, and President Gene Harrison-Ford Belcher

was giving an important speech in a foreign land.

Apple-achia.

And I thank the people of Apple-achia for welcoming me

to their beautiful country and allowing me to eat

your many varieties.

The United States hopes to have

a long and fruitful relationship with you.

-Pause for laughter. -(laughter)

He's gonna eat us and I like it.

Wait, they want to be eaten?

-Yeah. They want to be eaten. -Okay.

No further questions, then.

Gene President Harrison-Ford Belcher out.

TINA: But there was one table in the room who wasn't very happy.

The delegation from Pear-is.

Later, President Gene Harrison-Ford Belcher

was on his way back to Air Force One.

Sir, just wanted to remind you that the delegation

from Pear-is will be aboard your plane,

and they'd like to try to convince you

that pears are just as delicious as apples.

Okay, but mostly I just want to catch up

on The Kominsky Method and see my wife.

Of course, sir. We have all the episodes streaming on VHS

because it's 1997.

JOCELYN: Hi. Welcome to Air Force One

or whatever.

Can we get a tour of the entire plane?

Yeah, we don't want to do anything weird on it

or anything, we just, uh, want to know

where all the security and stuff is.

Okay. I'm not suspicious of you at all.

-(cheering) -Bye-bye, Apples.

Hello, Chief of Staff Gayle and Chief of Cats Mr. Business.

-(meows) -Let's get my derriere in the airy-air.

Right away, sir.

Your wife is waiting for you in your office, sir.

-Hey, Gene. -GENE: Nah.

I don't want to be married to Courtney.

-TINA: Oh, okay, um, Tammy. -GENE: I'll take Mom.

Oh, um, that's a little...

I am sick and I get what I want!

May you continue?

Hello, President Husband.

TINA: So President Gene Harrison-Ford Belcher

and his wife, Mom, buckled their seat belts for takeoff.

GENE: Well, I hope nothing goes wrong on this flight.

LINDA: I'm sure it won't.

Nothing ever goes wrong on Air Force One.

-(women screaming) -Attention, everybody!

We have taken over this plane in order to prove

that pears are just as delicious as apples.

And we're gonna do that by taking your president hostage!

You'll see, it's a pretty good plan.

-You want to say anything? -Uh, yeah.

We're changing the call sign of this plane

to Pear Force One.

PEAR JIMMY JR.: I said the plane is now

Pear Force One.

You know, 'cause we're pears.

What are you holding?

They're fruit peelers.

You know what happens if we use them on you.

Our skin comes off?

Worse-- your clothes come off!

-You'll be completely naked! -LOUISE: Wait.

Tina, Gene asked for foods, not nudes.

GENE: Just keep it PG-Flirteen, huh?

Sir, the pears have hijacked the plane.

We need to get you down to the escape pod.

Uh, hello, what about me, his wife?

Sorry, ma'am, wives have to stay on board and possibly be killed.

Aw, poop. (gasps) Pears!

-You're our hostage now. -And our best friend?

Get in the escape pod, sir. The country needs you alive.

-Ms. Vice President Courtney Glenn-Close Wheeler? -Yeah?

We need to get you down to the Situation Room.

-No. -What? No, please do.

-Okay. -All right, thank you for working with me.

Is President Gene Harrison-Ford Belcher secure yet?

Not yet, and we've just received a message from the pears.

They're gonna peel off the clothes of one hostage

every 15 minutes until everyone in America

starts eating pears as much as they eat apples.

-(gasps) -And there are a lot of people on that plane

who might get their clothes peeled off--

the Boyz 4 Now, a young Hugh Grant,

old Hugh Grant, all three Property Brothers,

-even the one who doesn't do property stuff. -LOUISE: Tina!

Sorry, sorry, sorry. Uh, meanwhile,

the president's escape pod landed.

President Gene Harrison-Ford Belcher

didn't do escape pods.

He wasn't in the Army, the Navy, the CIA

and the Girl Scouts just to give up that easily.

Get me Vice President Courtney Glenn-Close Wheeler.

Mr. President, I understand. Be careful.

No, I'll be pear-ful.

COURTNEY: What?

Uh, hey, pear guys,

um, you know what, I don't even like apples.

Stop trying to cozy up to us, Mrs. President's Wife Mom.

It's time to give this fruit the boot.

Hey, you made my friend nude!

-So nude. -Oh, no.

LOUISE: Wait, so...

fruits are naked under their peels?

-Yeah, their peels are like their clothes. -Got it.

Ah, now I'm nude, too!

Don't look at my little Bartlett butt-let!

-Tina. -Yep, yep, moving on.

Everybody find something to hold on to!

'Cause I'm about to make fruit salad.

-Get off my plane! -Do what now?

-Aah! -Get off my plane!

Owie!

-Get off my plane! -Okay!

-Get off my plane. -This is your plane?

Husband, you saved us!

Yeah, I did.

-Now give me a big old... -(explosion)

Oh, no! They must have

sabotaged the engine!

-We're gonna crash! -We're doomed.

Not yet, we aren't. Give me my presidential stapler.

TINA: And President Gene Harrison-Ford Belcher

climbed onto the top of the plane, which was easy

for him because of his Girl Scout training,

unfurled the pear-achute,

and the plane landed safely.

From this day forward, no one will eat pears,

especially not on Thanksgiving.

And my mom is my wife! Go USA!

-The end. -GENE: Thank you, Tina.

Great story and it kind of made me hate pears,

but I would still murder both of you for a single bite

of that Brie, I swear to God I would.

I know, Gene, I know.

Just gonna grab the wine and, oh,

I forgot to throw this old chicken parmesan out.

Oh. Oh, no. Gene.

Oh, boy. Uh...

Hey, everybody, uh, uh, come in for dinner.

Uch! Turkey again?

You make this every year.

Yes, Gayle, it's-it's Thanksgiving.

Okay, guys, time to sit down for...

(whispers): you know what.

GENE: Don't patronize me, Father!

I know you're gonna eat that turkey now.

Well, you know, they are.

Um, I'm gonna stay here.

And I could tell you a story.

GENE: It's okay, Dad, you can go eat.

I know how much you love Thanksgiving.

No, no, I-I-I actually really do want to tell you a story.

Um, and, you know, I ate so much food

while I was cooking. Like... like, a lot.

-Don't rub it in! -Sorry, sorry.

Um, anyway, so, uh, action movies, huh?

Is that what I was hearing?

Okay, uh, listen, this is the story

of Gene, uh, Marinara,

owner of one of the most successful, uh...

marinara rigs in the world. Hey.

-What are you guys doing? -We want to hear the story.

And we should probably help you tell it,

because you are, you know, not that great with words or ideas.

Thank you. I thought I was off to a pretty good start.

We'll be the harsh judges of that.

Anyway, like I said, Gene Marinara

was the best marinara rig operator in the world.

He had everything-- the best crew, the best gear.

But what he didn't know

was that far away at the, uh, the...

-space place... -TINA: NASA?

BOB: Yes, NASA. A very smartspace...science per

-GAYLE: Gayle! -BOB: Fine.

Gayle was about to discover something bad.

Son of a space thing.

What was it?

What did I see?

An asteroid made of chicken parmesan

the size of Texas, headed to destroy

life on Earth as we know it.

Wait, what was it made of?

-BOB: Chicken parmesan, Gene. -Oh.

That's right, I'm talking about Parmageddon.

LOUISE: Parmageddon.

I get it. But...

we've been doing Thanksgiving foods.

Well, this is kind of a Thanksgiving food.

I-It's related.

So at the NASA, a bunch of people decided...

We need to go up there

and blow up that big piece of chicken parm!

Scientifically.

We drill inside, fill it with hot marinara,

-and then... -Kaboom, daddy!

We just got to find a guy who's really good at drilling

and probably wears a tank top.

Let her rip!

Whoo-hoo!

-Red gold! -Boy, he sure can drill.

-And he sure can eat. -Yep.

That's why they call him the Sauce Boss.

Wait, Dad. Um, food is supposed to be the enemy.

It is, kind of. You'll see.

Ooh, suspense, I love it! Like Knives In!

Um, I think it's Knives Out.

No, it's like, ow, ow, knives in you, I think.

I don't know. Movies are too expensive.

-I didn't see it. -Anyway, Gene finishes

his spaghetti just in time to see a very official

government Jet Ski pull up to the rig

with a big request to make.

The United States government just asked us to save the world.

Anyone want to say no? You know what?

I'll send an Evite, but please RSVP by tonight.

United States astronauts train for years.

You have 12 minutes.

-Tell me what you see. -Pierce Brosnan.

-Me robbing a bank? -Oh, it's Pierce Brosnan.

It's a... a shape.

Lasagna. No, risotto. No, Pierce Brosnan!

They're ready.

Have fun in space, Sauce Boss!

-MAN: Three, two, one. -BOB: And so the fearless crew headed

for the gigantic piece of chicken parmesan.

GENE: Mamma mia, that's a spicy meatball.

Let's suit up.

All right, we get out there,

we stuff this baby with marinara,

and then we get back in here and we're home to our wives

by dinner.

Uh, Mom's my wife, right?

-Um, what? -Mo-Mom was Gene's wife in my story.

Aw, sweet.

We all need to have a talk, as a family.

Don't be a prude, Bob.

(chuckles) I-I-I don't think it's, uh, prudish.

I... All right, maybe it is.

Uh, you know what, i-it's fine. Anyway...

the entire crew made it onto the surface of the chicken parmesan,

but then something went wrong.

This cheesy crust is too thick.

Our drill can't get through it.

-Oh, no. Poor Earth! -TINA: Shoot.

I live there. Is there anything we can do?

There's nothing we can do.

But there's something I can do.

Gene, no, y-you don't mean...

I do mean.

I feel like chicken tonight.

All I need is a jet pack and a napkin.

BOB: The crew returned to Earth, but Gene stayed out in space and he

ate that space chicken one bite at a time.

He, uh, you know, he had to take off his helmet,

hold his breath, eat a bite, then put his helmet back on,

-and... You get it, right? -LOUISE: Perfect.

Gene, you have to finish!

You're about to enter Earth's atmosphere.

GENE: So full! Let me just open

the top button of my space suit.

Okay, last bite! (munching)

-He did it! -Yeah!

Oh, God, it's coming back up!

BOB: And then Gene Marinara

diarrheaed and vomited all that chicken back up,

and it rained hot chicken poop shooting stars

all around the world, which was kind of gross,

but also beautiful.

And everyone was fine, and Gene was fine

because he had a jet pack.

The Earth was saved, and all because Gene had the courage

to eat a chicken parmesan the size of Texas.

(belches) Excuse me.

-The end. -GENE: So,

I guess you figured out that I ate

some of that kind of rotten chicken parmesan

-that you told me not to eat? -Yeah.

-I-I saw the bites. -What?

GENE: Mom...

I don't have stomach flu.

I-I have food poisoning.

Last night, I was in the kitchen with Dad.

Can I eat some turkey?

No, it's not cooked.

-Bread dough? -It's rising, don't touch it.

How about this old chicken parmesan?

Gene, no, definitely don't eat that.

That's from, like, two weeks ago.

-Please? -No! I'm leaving it in there,

Gene, till I take out the trash.

I could eat it and save you the trip.

Gene, go to bed.

GENE: And I did go to bed.

But later I got up and I ate some

of that old chicken parmesan in the middle of the night.

And I didn't want to tell you

because I was embarrassed that I basically ate garbage.

I just love to eat!

Gene, it-it's great that you love to eat.

I-I love to feed you.

And you're the only one who was

really interested in my innovative new menu.

It's just a shame you didn't get to taste it.

You know, I-I was like you when I was a kid.

That's how I got interested in cooking.

And as soon as you pass that sip test,

I'll eat dinner with you.

Well, surprise, I've been nibbling

and juicing for the last 30 minutes, baby!

Gene, that's great!

Father, feed me that turkey!

Yay! Let's all eat at the table.

All right. Oh, wa... Oh, no!

-Oh, God! Oh, God! -Oh, no, no, no!

-(splashing) -It's coming out of everywhere!

Get in the tub! Get in the tub!

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH