All language subtitles for Call Me Fitz s02e03 Don of the Differently Abled.eng

Sync & corrected by honeybunny
www.addic7ed.com

(Snoring)

FITZ:
The worst part about a curse

isn't the bad shit
that happens to you.

Any schmuck can weather
a little misery.

Hell, most people
actually enjoy it.

No, the worst part
about a curse

is that your luck's
turned to shit.

(Groaning)

Snake eyes.

Great.

It's a voodoo mind fuck.

Solutions turn into problems,

and problems
turn into nightmares

and suddenly...

Nothing makes sense anymore.

Happens when you mix
atophan with booze.

How'd you get in here?

Shit.

I get it.

It's a dream, isn't it?

It's totally a dream.

If I know that,

I can control it.

All right, ladies.

Let's get to it.

I don't know how long
this dream is going to last,

but I do know this threesome
isn't going to start itself.

Richard, you are awake

and you have
a pronounced erection.

(Women giggling)

Wow.

's policy,
Mr. Fitzpatrick.

You need a licence to sell

and, due to your
fraudulent practices,

yours has been revoked.

Which means you're nothing
around here.

Jesus, let's try
and be professional here.

Professional?
Yeah.

You just petitioned customers
for an orgy.

And they said yes.

You're up on criminal charges
for breaking into my apartment.

All you've done is prove my point.

I got enough hassles.

And I guy's got a right
to earn a living.

You stole my panties.

Oh, I think we both know
what this is about.

Hey, you know about
this power trip

that your psycho smile factory
is taking?

No clue, but if it pisses you
off, I'll back her.

Ooh, are we having a meeting?

No, we're playing a game
called "shut the fuck up."

You go first.

Okay, I'll--
KEN: Ah, ah, ah.

Don't blow it, kid.

The sign outside says
"Fitzpatrick Motors."

I'm a partner.

You're a blowjob
that went wrong.

What about me?
You can't even

win a game
of "shut the fuck up."

What the skirt says goes.

DOT: Sales floor's off limits until
you pass your dealers exam.

Sorry.

Oh, fuck.

It's like
I always say, Richard.

Embrace big obstacles

and problems will turn
into big assets.

Shut up, Larry. This is just
a stupid dealership exam.

For which I did suggest you
rewrite several dozen times.

Oh, you want to take credit
for my ideas now?

Are you a walking conscience
or a walking ego?

Besides, I'm not taking
the exam. You are.

And I don't feel
very comfortable

impersonating you for an exam.

No, Richard, that's the line
for the specials.

Shh.

Well, hello.
Hm.

I'm Richard,
Richard Fitzpatrick.

Oh. I'm Fuck,
Don't Give a Fuck,

and you're in the wrong line.

Oh, we are so sorry.

Can I help you with anything?

Oh. Apotemnophilia, huh?

Interesting.

Here's my card.

Call me when you need
a new short bus.

Or anything else.

It's not likely.

WOMAN:
Next.

This is Richard Fitzpatrick.

He's here to take
his dealership exam.

Hello.

I'll need some photo ID.

Yeah. Right.

Here you go.

(Clearing throat)

Doesn't look a thing like him.

Hey--

Oh fuck.
Look, Richard,

I know academics
aren't your "thing,"

but you can do this.
There's nothing to be afraid of.

(Snickering)

(Clearing throat)

Richard Fitzpatrick
isn't afraid of shit.

(Intercom beeping)

SONJA:
Mr. Fitzpatrick,

I have a Dr. Rollands
on line 1.

Am I a dead man or what?

WOMAN, OVER PHONE:
As I mentioned, Mr. Fitzpatrick,

testicular cancer
responds very well to--

Quack. Double-talk bullshit.

I think we have it
well in hand.

Did you find someone
who will pick you up

after the procedure?

Nah. I ain't got nobody.

Well, you have to find someone.

It's hospital regulation.

Regulate this.

(Exhaling)

(Drill whirring)

Fuck me.

Dude, listen, the flight landed
15 minutes ago.

How long does it take
to pass 40 condoms of cocaine?

That's not--

Just dish soap, a quart of milk,
okay? It works fine.

I don't care if you ate cheese.
I got to go.

(Phone hanging up)

Hey, boss.

What the fuck are you doing?

Oh, I was just trying
to track a shipment of parts.

I'm just running low on--
On some parts

that I ordered.

I got more customers
than product, you know?

Jack up the price. Whoever
doesn't want to pay fucks off.

Then you got plenty of product.

Basic supply and demand,
jerkoff.

I need a lift.

Uh...

You mean like smack,
speed, PCP?

A ride, moron.

Weed?

In a car.
Oh. Oh, vodka.

I got a guy for that.

Who the fuck hired you?!

Jesus!

If there is anything you need,
Mr. Fitzpatrick.

What I need is for everyone
to shut the fuck up!

(Door slamming)

How did I fail that exam twice?

You were just underprepared.

Maybe nervous?

Oh, whatever.

Hey, buddy.
Ah!

Hey, where are you going,
Richard?

You shouldn't be alone
at a time like this.

To fuck, smoke or drink
something. Preferably all 3.

(Car engine starting)

(Inhaling)

JOSH:
Check it out.

This is my masterpiece.

The DSE.
Drug Stock Exchange.

It's all about
supply and demand.

With all that shit
that's going on in Mexico,

cocaine demand is high.

So if I put all my money
into ecstasy futures

and beat the margin call--
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Forget it, Josh.
I'm busted.

I'm so fucking broke
I'm living with Larry.

Don't you get it?
JOSH: I get it--

Richard, what does this say?

"Pots," dumbass.

Really?

I need to get my eyes checked.

I know why you failed
your test.

You are special.

Ow. What are you do--?
Watch it.

Come on, Richard.

When life gives you lemons--
I didn't get lemons.

I got a flaming bag of shit.
You're saying I'm retarded.

That term isn't really used
anymore.

Not in front of retards
it isn't.

You just read things
differently.

So buck up Zetif.

Zetif?
Yes.

That is your name,

at least how you would read it
using your dyslexic words.

Now you listen to me, mister.

Get your hands off me.

We are not retarded, okay?

We are differently capable.
Like Bat Boy.

An aspiring child who is blind

yet navigates the world
using echolocation.

Like a bat.

Remind me why I give a fuck?

Uh, well, thanks to
the worldwide media coverage,

the grant money poured in

and he was able to renovate his
school and it blind-friendly.

Grant money?

Yes, sir.

Hey, where are you going?

To get retarded.

Look, lady, I'm telling you,

I'm a retard.
I read shit backwards.

I'm not right in the head

and I demand to be recognized
as handicapped.

So I didn't win
the genetic lottery

and catch blindness
or spina bifida.

Does that mean I'm not
special enough for a 'tard card

or a grant?

What about this guy, huh?

I mean, sure, you'll call him
ugly behind his back

and none of you broads
will bang him,

but you don't have the nuts
to recognize him as deformed.

You think he doesn't
have to deal

with adversity with that face?

What about this guy, huh?

He doesn't quite measure down
to being a dwarf, does he?

You think he doesn't have
to reach up for shit?

You think this hobbit fucker

doesn't get called
a hobbit fucker all the time?

But no, he's just one inch
too tall to really cash in.

Oh, sure, you'll take a job
helping the disabled,

raking it in like that asshole
Jerry Lewis.

And what do we get? Nothing.

Well, not this time,
sugar tits.

Because I'm not leaving
until I get my due.

Because I am Richard
Fitzpatrick,

and I am a retard.

(Smattering of applause)

WOMAN 1:
Yeah. Good for you.

MAN 1:
Way to go.

MAN 2:
You're a real retard, buddy.

He's one of us.

WOMAN 2:
We're all retards.

(Tires screeching)
(Horn honking)

MAN:
Fucking retard!

What the fuck?

A 'tard card?

How'd you score that?

You passed the test.

She let me take
the exam orally.

Were the questions hard?

Oral exam.

Oh, Richard. Really?

Just one of the many benefits
of being a 'tard, Larry.

I also scored a municipal
business grant.

City gave me enough money
to start construction

on the Summer Wind Lounge.

Dreams do happen.

Wait. Wait a grant
for the disabled?

Can you believe that shit?

I should have thought of this
a long time ago.

While I applaud
that you're embracing

your learning disability,

dyslexia's really not
a serious--

You know, I must confess,
there's a small part of me

that thinks you might be taking
advantage of the situation.

If those adorable Downs fuckers
get free baseball tickets,

the least I deserve
is enough scratch

to open my own watering hole.

Richard. Yeah, but Richard--

Ah!

LARRY:
I think someone wants you

to give back that grant money,
Richard.

Is that what that said?

But maybe it's the shadow figure
who intends to murder you

on the beaver moon.

We got mangled limbs,
fake blood.

It's just a manifestation
of the prophecy.

(Gasping)

Oh, Richard.

The end is nigh.

Really, Larry?

You want to let a little
stage blood

and some plastic gams stand
in the way of the Summer Wind?

Uh-uh. You can't get to the top
unless you step on a few toes.

KEN:
Hey, diapers. Get in here.

We need to talk.

I'll tell you what.

I'll save you some time.

"Everything you touch
turns to shit.

"I'm tired of you
wrecking my joint,

"crashing my cars.
You're a curse, motherfucker.

You get arrested too much."

Well, you know what, old man?
Go fuck yourself.

No one gives a shit
what you think.

That's not what I want
to talk about.

Really? Then what?

Come on, spit it out.

(Sighing)

(Sighing)

Fascinating.

(Snorting)

(Sighing)

Ow!

MAN 1: Nailed him.
Oh!

MAN 2:
Good one.

My turn.

Huh?

Well, hello, Don't Give a Fuck.

Name's Laura, actually.

And you're the dyslexic asshole

that got the grant money
instead of us, right?

Oh, and you're the assholes
that redecorated my office.

Little heavy with the red,
but I like your work.

MAN 1:
Asshole.

Oh!

I promised my boys
I'd use that money

to start a handicapped
escort service.

I know you're trying
to scare me,

but all you're doing
is turning me on.

Maybe we should talk about the
building permit you applied for

for your lame lounge.

What about it?

You forgot to add wheelchair
access plans to your blueprints.

Bad, bad boy.

That means that I can file
a complaint

and have you tied up
in red tape for,

oh, I don't know, years.

Please, haven't you ever heard
of a bribe?

Just limp along home.
I don't have time for this shit.

You don't know
who you're fucking with.

I'm handicapped, asshole,
and that means power.

We can park where we want,
piss in public,

touch people inappropriately.

I can get to you, Fitz.
Anywhere, anytime.

Are we still talking
about inappropriate touching?

You have until tomorrow
to get me my money back.

You can run, Fitz,
but you can't smell it.

Oh! Oh!

Oh, fuck.

Oh.

MAN 2:
Slow down.

(Lights buzzing)

You asked for it
and now you're going to get it.

Is this another dream?

You tell me.

This threesome ain't going
to start itself.

Maybe we should make it
a 4-way.

As long as it's not a dude.

(All laughing)

No.

No!

WOMEN, CHANTING:
Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz.

(Gasping)

Huh?

That retard Laura's
in my fucking nightmare now.

Richard, Laura is not
the R word, okay?

She has apotemnophilia.

Yeah, whatever.

Wait, is that contagious?

Why? What did you do?

FITZ:
It's what I want to do.

She's on my list
of must-bang chicks.

You know, amputee, midget,
dental hygienist.

Richard, don't you see
what's happening here?

Instead of making things right,
you're making enemies

and consequently your nightmares
are growing stronger.

You need to make amends
before it's too late.

No, what I need
is that grant money.

Of course you did.

"Did," Larry?
Of course I did?

What happened to the money?

I took it out of your account.

What?
Well, you left me no choice.

And as any good
conscience would, I--

You gave it back to the feds?

The Summer Wind money?
My fucking money?

No, I didn't give it back.
I donated it.

What? Larry, I've got plans
to meet guys

to break ground there tomorrow.

Union guys.

If I gave it back,
it would have gone to Laura

who abuses the system
the same way you do.

So in an effort to reverse
this karmic catastrophe,

I donated it to those
who are truly in need.

Yeah, a group of poor,
fair-trade Colombian farmers

that Josh told me about.

Yeah, they grow poppies
for export.

Those are drug dealers, Larry.

Then--

Oh.

Get my money back, dickweed.

Now.

Drugs.

Mother of pearl.

I hear you got
your licence back.

Congratulations.

You've come to celebrate?

You going to take
your dress off now?

Oh!

Well, I guess this isn't
a dream.

From now on,

your paperwork
better be spotless.

Paperwork?

That's your big threat?

You think you know
all the angles, don't you?

Well, I've got news
for you, mister.

The one angle you can't play:
honesty.

Sooner or later,

you will screw up.

Oh, that's right.

You better be scared.

Oh, fuck.

Here, put these on my tab,
will you?

Guys with suitcases
don't get tabs.

I'll give your regards
to Cabo, Charlie.

Hello.
Oh, finally.

Are you shitting me?
Where's my money, Larry?

Mm, funny story, really.

I talked to Josh
about the grant money,

and it turns out he invested
it all in marijuana.

But then there was
a big hurricane in Jamaica

and something about
a margin call.

But you know what? In laymen's
terms, it's probably gone.

Jesus Christ.
No, no, it's just

a few dozen, thousand dollars
in the grand scheme of things.

Don't worry, buddy. We'll find
a way to build your dream.

Dream? Dream?

Stop the rainbow,
glitter bullshit, Larry.

You just put the final nail
in my coffin.

You're talking to a dead guy.

Don't you talk like that,
Richard.

I made a mistake.
I didn't mean to endanger you.

But maybe they won't
resort to violence.

You know, maybe we can sort this
out the old-fashioned way.

With a good old
heart-to-heart talk.

You let me know how that goes.

Richard, you can't run away
from your problems.

You need to confront
your fears.

No, I don't.

You can't outrun the moon,
buddy.

Yes, I can.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

How did they find me?

Sorry, Fitz.

Us 'tards stick together.

You double-crossing cyclops.

MAN:
Come on, guys.

You're not going anywhere.

No pushing.

Bad boy. You didn't give me
my grant money back.

Give me some time.

LAURA:
You're all out of time.

Saw.

I'm not going to lie to you.
This is going to hurt.

Okay, just hold still.

FITZ:
Larry.

A little help here?

Don't you hurt Richard.

FITZ:
Larry?

Larry?
Do it.

Come on.

Come on!

MAN 2:
Just do it.

(Saw stops whirring)

You handicapable thugs
ought to be ashamed of yourself

behaving like this.

Whatever happened
to your plucky enthusiasm,

your scrappy can-do attitude

and, oh, those arts and crafts
you love to make?

WOMAN: Oh, fuck that.
You're sick, lady.

Normally, I'm down with that,
but you're really sick.

Yeah, I tried to warn you
about that, Richard.

About her disorder
that makes her want to--

Yeah, you did seem
a little turned on

by the idea of sawing off
my arm, toots.

Fuck you. I was not.

Oh, come on.

You cut off your own
arm and leg

because it turned your crank.

Put it together, guys.

She wants to start
a handicapped escort agency,

she won't bang normal guys,

she's got her own
fucking bone saw.

I was born this way.

You said your mother
was on crack.

MAN 1:
Yeah, that's what I heard.

Hm. Well, it doesn't matter
how I got this way.

This is how
I am supposed to be.

You hate me because I've got
something you'll never have.

Hm?

What have I got, Larry?

Dyslexia.

FITZ: Exactly.
And?

A crippling,
God-given handicap.

So what's it going to be, boys?

Posse for the 'tard poser

or all us real gimps
going to stick together

behind the velvet rope
at the Summer Wind Lounge

with VIP access and free
cocktails ever night, huh?

MAN 2: He's one of us.
MAN 3: Yeah.

One of us! One of us!

LAURA:
Hey, come on, guys.

ALL, CHANTING:
One of us! One of us!

What are you, a ninja?

(Chuckling)

Am I speaking ching-chong?

Answer me.

Figured you could use
someone to yell at.

I don't need this shit.
Right.

You need people who shut up
and do what they're told

before you even
tell them to do it.

People who don't ask questions.

People you don't have to tell
that you've got cancer.

Wait, how did you--?

It wasn't rocket science,
Mr. Fitzpatrick.

The sudden change in your mood,

the increase
in telephone smashing,

You're oncologist calling
over and over.

Now don't you worry.
I'll pick you up after surgery.

And no, I won't ask you
how it went.

And yes, we can skip the pity.

A man like you doesn't need it.

You're damn right.

I know.

Just like you should know

that your secret
is safe with me.

(Imitating lock clicking)

Hm.

LARRY:
Oh, Richard,

you accepted your limitations

and used them
to your advantage.

Congratulations.

You still owe me 20K.

Josh! Dope, stat!

Okay, let's see.
Now we're back at square one.

Great place for a fresh start.

You got your licence back,
you'll sell some cars, save,

and in 10 years we'll have
a resilient nest egg

worth hundreds.
Your luck is changing, buddy.

Josh!

Oh.
Weed me.

Oh, um...

Uh...

Where'd you get
all that cabbage?

Oh, market rebounded.

Turned your 20 large
into 50 larger.

What the fuck?

I don't know, man.
I'm an idiot.

I don't know what I did
with the weed.

No, this is enough money
to start construction

on the Summer Wind.
Yup.

Ring-a-ding-ding, baby.

Ring-a-ding-ding.

(Sighing)

Finally.

Everything's coming up Fitzy.

Sync & corrected by honeybunny
www.addic7ed.com

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