All language subtitles for Santa.Clarita.Diet.S02E09.WEB.x264-STRiFE

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Hmm.

- Hello.
- Hi there.

- Is this Ruby's Clams?
- Yeah, and I'm Ruby.

Oh, good morning, I'm Irving Zweeben.
I got your address from Japopo's.

- Are you a clam distributor?
- Well, I'm trying to be.

It's a mom-and-pop operation,
minus the pop.

Got a shit ton of snap and crackle,
though.

What's your story, Irv?

Well, I'm an amateur clam grower.
A "clamateur," if you will.

I just had a few questions
about going pro.

Such as where do you get your clam
seeds? How many have you grown?

What other restaurants
have you sold them to?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down.

You gotta put a clam in a hot bath
before she opens up.

Why don't you come inside the house?

I'd love to.
But first, would you like a Danish?

I don't know what you eat or don't eat,
but they're very good.

Oh, I couldn't. I'm on a diet.

I see.

Ah, fuck it.

Mm!

That is good.

Yeah.

You looked nervous, like I wasn't
gonna like your Danish or something.

Well, I put a little nutmeg in it,

and I'm always afraid someone's
gonna say, "Whoa, nutmeg?"

I like you, Irv.

Come on, I'm gonna show you
something special.

Then maybe I'll show you my clams.

Starting your own
real estate business, huh?

That's exciting.
I'll be praying for you.

Ugh, thanks. I really need this to work.

I cost us our last job
because my boss was such a fucker.

Sorry. Jerk.

My fucking boss was such a jerk!

Whoa, easy there, coconut hands.

Coconut hands?

Yeah, it's an expression
for people who hit really hard.

You know, because coconuts are so hard.
I came up with it myself.

Well, I really think it's gonna catch on
because that's so easy to explain.

I think your new business
is gonna do really well.

I mean, you're so strong and tough on

the outside, and sweet on the inside.

You're like, um...

Well, I wanna say something else,
but the best example is a coconut.

Okay, I guess I see
how you could get there again.

Plus, you're so inspiring.

I mean, you got me to start
painting again for Pete's sake.

You're just really awesome, Sheila.

Ugh. That's so nice.

Holy guacamole! Are you okay?

Oh, boy, getting hit in the face hurts.

- Do you want me to get you some ice?
- No, it's, um... it's better now.

I'm glad your painting's going well.

I'd love to see it.
It's just over at Lisa's, right?

Yeah, but it's not that good.

I'm sure it's great.
Come on, don't be such a...

All I can think of is coconut.

It's a series.
I call it "Suspicious Objects."

Wow.

Yeah?

- Hey, Abby.
- Hi, Eric.

Just stopped by to see
if your dad needed help

checking out the clam distributor.

I don't know if you heard,
but to get the name,

I had to engage in a pretty
dangerous game of cat and mouse.

- You were the mouse, right?
- I also wanted to see if you were mad

I bailed on blowing up
the fracking trailer with you.

But then you just called me a "mouse,"
so I guess that's a yes?

I'm not mad. I'm just busy, okay?

My dad's not here.
If you wanna let him know you came by,

you could always leave a trail of tiny
droppings on the kitchen counter.

Okay. I'm not comfortable
doing something illegal,

but if you want to, that's fine,
I'm not judging.

Are you making your own explosives?
That's crazy! What's wrong with you?

I'm exploring options.

You bailed, so you don't get
to have an opinion, okay?

Nobody likes a backseat arsonist.

All right.

Just so you know, you should be careful
using a hydrocarbon-based fuel

as an accelerant, all right,
because it's...

More volatile than
available combustibles.

I know, Eric.

But thank you for mouse-splaining
explosives to me.

Well, I could call you an animal, too.

You're like an Indian mealmoth
who flies directly into a flame

because it read one book from 1971
and now it knows everything.

Yeah, well, at least a mealmoth
has friends it can rely on

who won't flutter away
at the first sign of trouble.

You know nothing of moths. Although,
that was unbelievably accurate.

- Look at all these clams.
- I grow them all right here.

They say you can't get
local seafood in the desert,

but I'm gonna prove those fuckers wrong.

- Would you like a drink, Irv?
- No, I'm good.

And have you proved those fuckers wrong?

How many restaurants
have you sold these to?

So far, just Japopo's.
That was my trial batch.

Oh, my God. Really? Just Japopo's.
No one else has had these?

No, not even me. I'm allergic.

Shellfish makes my tongue swell up.

Not that I'm against things swelling up.

Okey-dokey.

Listen, Ruby, I wanna buy all of these.
All three tanks.

Oh, no, these aren't for sale.
These are my house clams.

Yeah, that's Kevin.
There's James, Alex, Peter...

Hold up. If these are your friends,
which ones did you sell to Japopo's?

The ones out back.

Jesus Christ.

They're one of a kind.

My brother explores deepwater lakes
all over the world.

He's one of those rich assholes
who develops a dangerous hobby.

Anyway, he found a few of these
in some cave 90 meters deep.

He knows I love clams so he smuggled a

few through Customs for me to breed.

Family. What would we do without them?

- Where was this lake?
- Somewhere in Serbia.

Serbia.

I call them "Ruby Reds."
Be careful, they bite.

How many of these are there?

Well, six months ago, I had four,
but they breed like crazy,

and now I have 5,000.

Tomorrow, I'm shipping them out
to restaurants all over the state.

Oh, my God.

Ruby, listen to me. You can't sell
these. They made people sick.

What are you talking about?
Japopo's didn't complain.

They didn't know!

All right, what would it cost for me to

buy all these "Ruby Reds" right now?

I'm not selling them to you.
I have buyers lined up.

If this goes well, I can quit my job
at the Sleep Apnea Center.

Won't have to strap wires
to those fat fucks

and listen to them snore all night.

First of all, no matter how this goes,
you should quit your job.

And these clams are dangerous.
They have to be destroyed.

Who are you? You're not a clam hobbyist.

Do you work
for Akana International Ocean Meats?

Were you sent here to seduce me
out of my inventory?

No, Ruby, it's not like that.
And you came on to me.

Get out.

Sheila, we have a problem.

Yes, we do.
You need to get to Lisa's right now.

Anne is painting,
and she is putting it all together...

Perspective, scale, depth...

Well, we have a problem here, too.

- Ah, better.
- Other side.

Ah, better.

I saw the infected clams.

Ruby's is the source.

Really interesting, honey.
And did you hear what I said?

Anne's got it all figured out.
Artistically.

You mean not artistically,

but she's standing right next to you
and we're fucked?

Yeah-huh.
I'll see you when you get here.

Damn it!

And I need to get gas. Shit!

We discussed this, Marsha.

When we try to do too many things,
everyone ends up disappointed.

All I'm saying, it's my sister's
baby shower and I wanted to be there.

It's her third baby, Marsha.
A shower's tacky.

And I told you the day would come
when I'd be called into service.

You also said you wanted a big family,

and that day's not coming anytime soon.

Can we just not? Can we please just not?

I'm sorry, I have a sacred purpose.

Wow, look what you did.

What did you do? What did you do?

I was sitting at my easel
thinking about all the people

that have disappeared
in Santa Clarita lately.

Then I just started painting
the missing persons flyer for Dan.

Interesting.

Then I thought about Gary's finger that

was found in Dan's cubby over there,

- so I just painted that.
- Interesting.

I feel like there's another link between

Gary and Dan that we
just don't know yet.

But I couldn't figure it out,
so I took a break and painted Joel.

So flattering. Thank you.

- Hey, why me?
- Yeah, hey, why him?

I don't know.

I was painting suspicious objects
and then I just thought

of that nervous smile of yours.

- Yeah, that's the one.
- I'm not smiling.

Hey, what's this milkshake?
That's different and fun and different.

Oh, that's a tumbler full of vomit
that was found in the apartment

of a missing Serbian man
who I think may have been murdered.

Wow, you're just
seeing murder everywhere.

I'm starting to think
that maybe Gary and Dan

didn't really know each other at all.

And maybe someone planted Gary's finger
to implicate Dan,

and they're both really dead.

And the same person who killed them
is also killing other people,

like the missing Nazi and the Serb.

But who? Who could be killing
all of these people?

I gotta say, that theory seems crazy.

I don't wanna sound harsh,

but you should burn these
before people see them and judge you.

Yeah, my boss didn't buy it, either.
And that was harsh.

Well, still, maybe you should listen
to your boss.

He is a boss for a reason.

I'm sorry if I sounded harsh,
but I need you to understand.

- No one's gonna buy these.
- It's just that murder's such a downer.

Maybe paint something cute.

- I'd love to see your take on a baby.
- Or a lizard.

- Or a lizard baby.
- Nobody's painting lizard babies.

Mm-mm.

God damn it!

Anne's one Nazi-in-a-wheelchair painting
away from nailing us.

Well, at least her boss
doesn't believe her.

And what are we supposed
to do with this?

I don't know. I just thought it was a

bad idea to have her staring at you

while she's trying to solve our crimes.

Also, we don't have
any paintings of you.

And if buying art isn't an effective way
to shut Anne down? What then?

- We can't kill her.
- I know.

- We only kill bad people.
- I know.

But what if she secretly is bad?

She seems nice, but it's always
the people you least expect

that do the worst things.

That's us. You're describing us.

Yeah, it did sound familiar.

I like Anne. She's my friend.

We're not killing her.

No, you're right. That's off the table.

Can we blind her? Is that something?

I don't wanna blind my friend.

Plus, that sounds even harder
than killing her.

Yeah, it would require a lot of
precision. And we're not precise people.

I'm sorry, honey.
This whole thing is my fault.

No, it's not, sweetie.

It's not just Anne. I screwed up, Joel.

I never told you this, but that night
at Japopo's,

I thought the clams smelled off.

But back then,
I was too timid to complain.

It's not your fault.

- I shouldn't have eaten them.
- Please, honey, it's not you.

We shouldn't have even
gone out that night.

- I was supposed to cook.
- You got stuck on a work call.

- We had to go out.
- Right. A work call.

That's probably Rick.
I called him for help.

Oh, yeah.

Five thousand of these infected clams
are being shipped out tomorrow.

So, if we don't do something,
the world is gonna end.

Well, dang.

Problem solved.

Called in a favor with a friend of mine
at the health department.

That's great!

I couldn't even get someone
on the phone. What'd he say?

Why do you assume it's a man? Sexist.

I'm sorry. What did she say?

It is a man, but you should question
your assumptions.

That's the only way
the world's ever gonna change.

I love that your police department
made you take a sensitivity class,

but I don't have time for this.

There's always time to respect
the differences that make us great.

I got an A.

Anyway, my friend
will send someone next week

- to help out with your clam problem.
- Next week?

That's not good enough, Rick.
I need this handled today.

Whoa, buddy. Wha...?
We've been friends a long time.

I know something's been going on
with you lately.

Why don't you tell me what it is?

I discovered bad clams,

and as a responsible citizen,
I feel I must intervene.

Fine, don't tell me.

I'm sorry, Rick.

I'm trying to be a friend to you, Joel,

but you keep pushing me away,
and it's breaking my heart.

Fuck the sensitivity class.
It's turned me inside out.

Rick was no help,
and I think we just broke up.

I'm sorry, honey.

What are we gonna do?
We've got Anne closing in on us

and an army of undead clams
about to wipe out civilization.

Oh, and I forgot to tell you,
I think our gardener stole another hose.

God, it's just one thing after another.

Okay, right now,
Anne's boss isn't taking her seriously.

But these clams go out tomorrow.

We need to destroy
these ginger bitches tonight.

Right! Why do you assume they're female?

I just... I don't know.
I guess I need to work on that.

Sexist.

Oh, you heard my conversation with Rick.
Nice.

Okay, so to kill 30 tubs of clams
in a hurry,

I wanted to use something
readily available.

First, I tried sending an electrical
current through salt water,

but our little friend just vibrated
and then ejaculated something.

- Not trying to shame him.
- Perfectly natural, go on.

Then I put it in antifreeze,

which would've killed
one of these normal clams in seconds,

but still no effect.

And now it is in bleach,

which is strong enough to sterilize
the urinals at Dodger Stadium

and as I recently learned to get
clam ejaculate out of a lab coat.

- What's cracking, clam assassins?
- The antifreeze didn't work

and your mother can tell you
about the electrical current.

Everything's riding on the bleach.

Look, it's opening up.
They do that when they're dying.

Definitely not dead.

Oh!

Holy shit!

Oh!

He or she is eating him or her.

So, not bleach?

So, I'm thinking game over.

What does everyone wanna do
for our last night on Earth?

I've never eaten a pomegranate.

I don't know, Eric.
They stain, so it's super dangerous.

Look, here's what I found
in the Serbian book.

They burned Pozica
to get rid of the virus.

Maybe fire could destroy
these little dudes, too.

Why do you assume they're male, Abby?

Well, hot enough temperatures
will incinerate anything,

living or dead, male or female.

So why don't we just torch
the whole clam farm?

Maybe because starting a big fire
is reckless and dangerous, Abby.

Well, not if we work together
and have each other's backs, Eric.

I can't help but notice

you two are pointedly saying
each other's names in a hurtful way.

Which we, damn it, don't have time
to explore.

Right.

So no open flames.
It's brush fire season.

And I've already caused
enough destruction

in Santa Clarita without
burning it down.

Ruby works nights. We could go
to her place, steal the clams,

and then burn them somewhere
where we can control.

- Like in our oven.
- A regular oven doesn't get hot enough.

To turn these to dust,
it's gotta be above 1500 degrees.

There's a big kiln at Color Me Mine.

And I have a friend who works there.

Totally reliable. Wouldn't flake
at the last second. You know, a friend.

You mean someone who doesn't pressure

you to do things you don't wanna do?

Something is going on with these two.

Teenagers. They even make
the apocalypse about them.

Okay, clams, Sheriff Anne, their issues,
confronting the gardener.

That feels like the right order
of importance.

- I agree.
- We'll gather up the clams

and meet you
at the back of Color Me Mine.

We'll text you when we're on our way.

And if there's any
problem with the kiln,

let us know and we'll go to plan B.

- Which is?
- We watch Eric eat a pomegranate.

Wow.

It's kind of beautiful.

I am unbelievably sweaty.

Yeah, well, Eric was just trying
to protect you against contamination

in case a clam bites you,
or, God forbid, ejaculates on you.

World's worst porn.

- There are so many of them.
- We should get started.

We only have a few hours
until Ruby gets home.

Also, I think I have an ant in here
with me.

By the way, the friend of mine
who works here, it's Sven.

Are you gonna be okay with that?

Obviously you didn't think I would be

or you would've mentioned it
on the drive over.

- But, yes, I'm okay with that.
- Okay, good.

'Cause in order to get what we want,
I'm gonna flirt a little.

Whatever you have to do, do it.
I'll be fine.

- Okay.
- Hey, sorry, guys, we're closed.

Oh.

Hey, Abby.

- Hi, Sven.
- God damn it.

I was wondering if you wanted
to see a movie together after you...

get off.

Yeah, sure. Why is he here?

He's doing a super
secret pottery project,

and I would just
consider it a huge favor

if you could let him use
your hot, hot kiln while...

you and I are share
a lick-oriceand a Butt-erfinger.

Um, no, I can't leave him alone
with the kiln.

What if he burns the entire place down?

I could be arrested,
kiss college goodbye.

But kiss me hello.

Abby, I don't think it's working.

I apologize.
This is a new muscle for me.

Look, Sven, I was in your English class.

You're gonna be at this Color Me Mine
the rest of your life

unless someone writes
your college essays for you.

Which I will do
if you leave us the keys and walk away.

All right. Text me when you're done.

Thanks for doing that.

- No problem.
- Listen.

I was a dick before. You do a lot for me

and I'm sorry I forgot
that for a minute.

- It's okay.
- No. I don't like a lot of people.

So I can't afford to be pissing off
the ones I do like.

- So, are we good?
- Yeah.

Color Me "Fine."

That reminds me, please, please
don't tell anyone about my flirting.

Don't worry. I couldn't
even describe it.

I deserve that.

Halfway through.

- You're such a good man.
- You don't need to say that.

Seriously, you're the best husband
an undead wife could ever ask for.

Putting up with Nazis,
murder, suspicious cops.

And you lost your best friend today

because I had to order the clams
at Japopo's.

You didn't do anything wrong.

Look at how red these shells are.
I should've noticed.

They were drenched in marinara
and the battery in our candle was dead.

I wanted the chicken marsala,
but the waiter said,

"We have one special left," and it
felt exclusive, and I'm so stupid.

- Sheila.
- What?

It wasn't your fault. It was mine.

- What are you talking about?
- I'm the reason you died.

That night we went to Japopo's,
I was supposed to cook dinner.

- Right, but you had a work call.
- I lied.

You weren't home, I smoked a little pot,

and instead of cooking,
I watched "Epic Dog Fails" on YouTube.

Then I wanted pizza, so I told you I got

stuck on a work call
and we had to go out.

So all this happened
because you got high

and wanted to watch a stupid dog video?

Yes. It's my fault.

Oh, my God.

Wait a minute.

- I sent you that video.
- You did?

So maybe this is my fault.

But Evelyn gave me that video from work,
and her mom gave it to her.

You think this is Evelyn's mom's fault?

Maybe it's the dogs in that video

who think they can make sharp turns
on linoleum.

Maybe it's cavemen
who decided to turn wolves into pets.

So you're saying it's everybody's fault?
But mostly cavemen?

No. I'm saying it's nobody's fault.

Joel...

it's nobody's fault.

Thank you.

I'm coming for you,
you clam-thieving motherfuckers.

Besides, maybe it's a good thing
that it happened to us.

How is it good?

Because we're trying to stop it
from spreading.

And maybe someone else
wouldn't even care.

Right. Maybe we are good people.

I'm gonna go with we are.

Not from where I'm standing.

Irving, you thieving son of a bitch.
Get out of my tubs.

Ruby, I can explain. I'm bringing
you more clams in these bags.

- Bullshit.
- Ruby, listen to me.

What Isaac is trying to say...

- Irving.
- Irving.

Oh, okay. Well, you know what?
I didn't have anything anyway.

First, you waltz in here this morning
trying to seduce me.

Then you send your two lackeys
to interrogate me.

I was halfway to work before I realized
my clams might be in danger.

Wait, did you say "lackeys"?

What lackeys? We don't have any lackeys.

Oh!

What the fuck?

You missed.

Thank you, Marsha.
That's great feedback.

- What the hell happened?
- It's like a bomb went off.

Christ, I had no idea the seafood
business was this competitive.

God...

Oh, my God. No!

Okay, that's it. I'm out, you win.

Please, just spare my house clams.

- We didn't do this.
- Yeah, we're good people.

- I think we should run.
- I agree.

Holy fuck, it worked. You did it!

Now all we have to do is track down

whoever ate those clams and kill them.

Totally.

What are you looking at?

You. Let's go home and make a baby.

Don't say that if you don't mean it.

Don't look beautiful
if you don't want me to love you.

- Who the hell did that?
- I don't know, but they're serious.

No one casually owns a rocket launcher.

Do you think it was those lackeys
Ruby was talking about?

Maybe.

Well, if they knew about the clams, how

long until they find out about us?

This seems like a conversation
we could have

- while getting the fuck out of here!
- Right.

- Here.
- Thank you.

I texted Abby and told her
we destroyed the clams.

- You said we destroyed the clams?
- Yeah. I figured we could use a win.

We saved the world. Almost.

Yeah, it's not our fault
someone saved it first.

It's Anne.

Shit!

- Hi, Anne.
- Hi.

I just came over to say thank you.
You know, when you guys told me

that my theory on the missing people
was half-baked?

It was a little runny
in the middle, yes.

Well, your skepticism
made me dig deeper.

And I looked more into that missing

Nazi, and it turns out that he dated,

wait for it...

Gary's niece.

Whoa.

And two more Nazis
have also gone missing.

Whoa.

Yeah. It's all connecting.
I told my boss

and he wants me to take it to Homicide.

- Homicide?
- Homicide.

Yeah, once those guys sink their teeth

into something, there's no letting up.

So by next week, there could be a whole

team of detectives working on this.

But... but what about painting lizards?

Yeah.

- Where are the fucking lizards, Anne?
- Right here.

It's a baby one, like you wanted,
as a thank-you.

If you hadn't warned me
how weak my theory was,

then I would've kept pushing it to my

boss and I would've
lost all credibility.

- You're welcome.
- Anyway, I gotta get going.

Lisa's baptism is tomorrow and I'm
putting together a banging pray-list.

See you there!

- Homicide detectives!
- I know!

Remember an hour ago when someone
shot a rocket at us?

- Yeah.
- What if those were the good times?

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www.addic7ed.com