All language subtitles for Mom 5x17 - Crazy Snakes and a Clog to the Head.AVS_SVA.en-en

Really? That's how you're gonna do it?

Wendy, she's a prison nurse,

which means she can kick
your ass and bandage you up.

Not properly.

Follow my finger, follow my finger.

What are you looking for?

I don't know.

I'm fine.

I think I just took a clog to the head.

I'm sorry. They help
me with my back pain.

And it wasn't my fault,
someone hit me with Wendy.

Oh, my God, my watch.

My watch. Someone stole my watch!

Oh wait, I hid it in my bra.

Is everyone all right?

- No, her arm is broken.
- It's not broken.

It's just poorly bandaged.

We were just trying to
help some alcoholics.

Oh, hey. Anyone lose an earring?

Ah! It's a tooth!

-- Synced and corrected by ChrisKe --
-- www.addic7ed.com --

Can you tell me exactly
what happened here?

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.
One at a time, please.

Okay, okay.

I organized an AA
meeting for your inmates

and we were all very excited
to be here this afternoon.

Oh, God, why do we have to do this?

Adam and I had plans.

- To do what?
- Anything but this.

And how did I get roped into driving?

I should be in the back
seat studying for the LSATs.

Hmm. Trust me, you
do not want be crammed

in this little back seat.

It's like a Red Bull
graveyard back here.

Or as I like to call it, sober cocaine.

Why didn't we take your car?

It's roomy and it has
the Broadway Channel.

Those crooks see me pull
up in my Range Rover,

next thing you know I'm a
hostage with a torn blouse

doing whatever it takes to survive.

Go on.

Jill, there's guards in the room.
We'll be fine.

There will be guards, right, Marjorie?

Yes, and we all agreed to
do this panel months ago.

Only because you're old
and we assumed you'd forget.

Mom, I'll give you a hundred bucks

if you remember our phone number.

Five... something.

I just don't know what I have to offer.

A bunch of convicts aren't
gonna relate to my story:

some rich bitch who went to
four fancy rehabs to get sober.

It's just gonna make 'em angry.

It makes me angry.

Look, it's important to share
our recovery with these women.

The first meeting I ever went
to was when I was in prison.

Who knows, you can change
someone's life today.

Or we could assume their lives
are fine and just go home.

I'm excited to talk to them.

I even came up with a few
jokes to break the ice.

So these two serial
killers are in a canoe...

Stop. I am not getting shivved because
you want to be Jimmy Kimmel.

You don't get "shivved,"
you get "shanked.

A shiv is a thing you get shanked with.

You get shanked with a shiv.

Excuse me. Can you move the story along?

I'm sorry, I'm just
trying to give you context.

Marjorie, let me take it from here.

We arrived, ate a bowl

of something gray with cornbread.

Then we started the
panel for the inmates.

Wendy bombed with her jokes.

Hey, they were starting to warm up.

Someone spit on you.

Then Christy did her usual

"hate my mom, gonna be a lawyer" deal,

then it was my turn to share my story.

Which wasn't your story at all.

All right, I may have
gotten off to a rocky start.

I'm not gonna lie,

it's just so hard being poor.

Jugglin' four jobs

at four different job places.

Okay, even I didn't
believe what I just said.

Truth is, I'm rich.
Like, "I don't even know

how much a loaf of bread costs" rich.

But all that money
couldn't keep me from using.

I recently threw away
three years of sobriety.

I was drinking in every
room of my big, fancy house,

including the gym.

It's real hard to
crash a stationary bike,

but it can be done.

Now I've got a little over a month

and I'm holding on for dear life.

I'm not sure if that
makes sense to any of you,

but, that's my story.

Thank you.

Shoulda skipped the part about the gym.

Why? They got a gym here.

First, let me apologize for
Wendy's "captive audience" joke.

She doesn't get out much.

Well, probably more than you.

That's how it's done.

Anyway, I'm Bonnie and I'm an alcoholic.

Hi, Bonnie. Bonnie Plunkett?

You ruined my life!

Code three, rec room.

Oh, God.

Oh, my God! I'm gonna die

in a women's prison!

Well, how do you know Tammy Diffendorf?

I don't. I have never
seen her before in my life.

But she knew your name

and said she wanted to kill you.

My mom gets that more
often than you think.

Do you want to press charges?

Would there be any monetary compensation

for my pain and suffering?

No.

Pass.

37 years I've been doing these panels,

never once have I been hit with a chair.

Are you implying this is my fault?

She didn't threaten to kill me.

She would if she knew you.

You really don't remember who she is?

I'm telling you, I don't know her.

Tammy Diffendorf is
not a name you forget.

Maybe she's someone from your drug days.

Everyone who wants to kill
me is from my drug days.

No, they're not.

Hopefully, we managed to do some good

before the riot broke out.

I think my story touched people.

I saw a few tears.

Those were tattoos.

I think they really connected

with your story, Christy:

ex-stripper studying to be a lawyer.

They did, didn't they?

Like if they were to
make a movie of my life,

that scene would definitely
be in the trailer.

Well, I'm glad you all
had such a wonderful time.

Meanwhile, some maniac
named Tammy is running around

with my DNA under her fingernails.

Tammy... Tammy...

Who the hell is Tammy?

Tammy. Tammy.

- Tammy, Tammy, Tammy, Tammy, Tammy.
- Mom.

I've got an idea.

You say the name "Tammy" 500 more times,

I'm gonna go thank my lucky stars

for a toilet with a seat.

Tammy... Tammy... Tammy.

Tammy... Tammy.

Tammy.

Guys, I had a major breakthrough
at the meeting today.

I mean, it was like a thunderbolt.

Every mistake I've ever
made in my life is because...

Oh, my God! Tammy.

- I was talking.
- I know, and thank you.

That's when I do my best thinking.

So you remember?

Yes, I don't know if it's the coffee

or me not wanting to hear Wendy's story,

but it's finally coming back to me.

Maybe we should let Wendy finish.

Oh, come on, Marjorie.

A gigantic woman tackled Bonnie.

Tell me you don't want to
hear the "who," "what," "why."

I think I may have mentioned in passing

that I was in foster care.

- Nah. - Stop.
- No, really? - You?

Anyway, when I was 14,

I got placed with a family in Vallejo.

Ew. Vallejo? Sounds dusty.

I'd been bouncing from one
crap hole to another for years,

but this new place was actually decent.

I had my own room for the first time.

I could drink, smoke dope,

sneak boys in through the window,

but then they took in this other girl.

Tammy?

Tammy.

She had these adorable French braids.

She did her homework every night.

She helped around the
house with the chores.

She was polite, considerate, cheerful.

I hated her guts.

Having Little Miss Perfect around

was screwing my sweet deal.

I had to find a way to
bring her to the dark side.

Turns out, I'm really good

at bringing people to the dark side.

- Stop. - No.
- Really? - What?

Anyway, she had this boyfriend,

another straight-A,
goody-two-shoes nerd.

But the nerd had a penis,
and that made him weak.

So, I had my friend
Donna... Very chesty,

lots of tube tops, she's dead now...

I had her make out
with him behind the gym

just as I innocently walked
Tammy around the corner.

Oh, she was devastated.

Luckily, I had the perfect
thing to comfort her.

Wanna get away?

Before I knew it,

Tammy went bad girl in a big way.

Even I was impressed. She was

wakin' and bakin', flunkin' tests,

buying vodka from the janitor.

Pfft. A month later, she was gone.

Ah, misty water-colored memories.

So, who wants to split a chef's salad?

What? A whole salad makes me bloaty.

Bonnie, you do realize

what you did to Tammy was wrong...

Although impressively
complex for a 14-year-old.

Mm. Not that impressive.

14-year-olds
are pure evil.

I spent three semesters
taking down an art teacher.

Tell me my horse
painting was unrealistic.

What is it with janitors and vodka?

Our junior high janitor
didn't have a hand,

but he always had vodka.

Are you saying it's
my fault she's in jail?

No, I didn't say that.

Then what are you saying, Marjorie?

- May I?
- Yes. I'm so tired of this.

"And so, I-I'd like to make amends

"for those terrible things I did to you

"when we were both struggling

with the challenges of
the foster care system."

That's it?

That's all I prepared,
but I could riff a little.

You're unbelievable.

Thank you, but I can't take full credit.

I've learned a lot from the
program, but most of it is me.

Screw your program. I
only went to that meeting

to get away from my
masturbating cellmate.

Talk about addiction.

Is she top bunk, or bottom bunk?

I-I don't know why I asked that.

Let me get this straight.
You drove all the way out here

to apologize to me
for handing me a joint

and messing around with my boyfriend?

Technically, that was
Donna, may she rest in peace.

Oh, she's dead? Good.

Now when are you gonna apologize
for what you really did to me?

Well, um, I was hoping

my apology was, uh, more
of a blanket type deal,

but if there are specifics,

I could tackle them on
a case-by-case basis.

You got me kicked out of that house!

No, no, you got kicked out

'cause you stole our
foster father's wallet.

No, you stole his wallet

- and planted it in my book bag.
- Oh.

Ooh. Yeah.

They kicked me out and
put me in a group home.

It was hell, so I took off.

I was 14 years old,
living on the street,

doing stuff I didn't even
know I was capable of.

Aw, Tammy, I'm so sorry.

Yeah, well, "sorry"
doesn't help me, does it?

'Cause you're out
there, and I'm in here.

I spent the last 40 years
wishing I never met you.

Guard?

I'm so upset about what
I did to this woman.

I can't eat, I can't sleep.

I'm haunted, like the guy
who hears his own heart

through the wall in
that Stephen King book.

- Like she read a book.
- I'm telling you...

- ...it's been a nightmare.
- Like she has a heart.

You know, a week ago,

I couldn't even remember
who this woman was.

Turns out I ruined her life.

Makes me wonder how
many other peoples' lives

I might have ruined.

That I don't know of.

Anyway, made my amends, totally tanked.

Just wish there was
something else I could do.

Happy to be sober, where every day

I get to discover new ways I'm terrible.

Anyone else like to share?

- I'll go. Christy, alcoholic.
- Hi, Christy.

First of all, the book my
mother was referring to was

The Telltale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe.

I liked it better when she was stupid.

I bitch about my life
in this room a lot,

but... after visiting that prison,
I got to say, I feel lucky.

I met women in there doing
time for things I've done.

I just didn't get caught.

It's funny. Getting into law school

has been such a pain in the ass.

I was starting to wonder
if it was worth it.

But if some day, I get to help just
one of these women, I know it is.

Who knows? Maybe I can
devote my entire practice

to people my mother destroyed.

But will I hear a thank you?

Hey, there she is!

They said you have a
prepaid phone card for me?

And six pairs of underwear
in various styles.

If you're not a thong girl,

perhaps you could
barter them for snacks.

Hi. I'm her daughter Christy.

Man, how much did you smoke?

In her defense, she didn't
know she was pregnant

till I fell out of her.

We're not here to talk about me.

Now, I went to the prison officials

and explained your attack
on me was totally justified.

- You get me my privileges back?
- No. They laughed at me.

Actually, they were
kind of mean about it.

And a little condescending.

Be sure to give the
prison a bad Yelp review.

Are we done here?

No. The reason I brought my
daughter is she's a lawyer.

Not a lawyer, not yet.

But I know one, and he's agreed
to take a look at your case.

Yeah, we thought we could see

if there was a way we
could get you out early.

Oh, that's great because
I totally didn't mean

to kill those people and eat them.

What?

Kidding. I robbed an
Outback Steakhouse.

Just my luck, it was
"Cops Eat Free" night.

I was arrested by 32 people.

Okay, well, did any of
them get a little grabby?

This is our time.

I was tripping balls
on mushrooms, sweetie.

I got no idea.

- So, are we done?
- Uh, yeah. Guess so.

Tammy?

Listen, I-I know you hate my mom,

and you have every right to,

but you should know she
genuinely feels terrible,

and now she's a really good person.

Well, she's a better person.

She's a person.

Let's go, Christy.

- Hey, Plunkett?
- Yeah.

Not you, Cigarette Baby.

Those people we lived with...
They end up adopting you?

Hell, no. I got kicked out
two weeks after you did.

Stole her wallet, had
no one to blame it on.

- Where'd you end up?
- Chicken farm in Bakersfield.

Even worse than it sounds.

We actually had it pretty
good at that house, didn't we?

Ugh. Yeah, they were nice people.

And they had no idea what
marijuana smelled like.

I know, right? What did you tell them?

There was a family of skunks
living under the house?

Oh, yeah.

And they followed me to school one time.

Right.

- Wait. Do you still draw?
- What?

You used to draw all those crazy
snakes everywhere, you know.

On walls, inside cereal boxes.

I forgot about that. Remember
I drew one on the neck

of that crazy red-headed
guy when he was asleep?

- What was his name?
- I don't remember, man.

- He was psycho.
- Oh, my God.

- No one home in those eyes.
- Mm-hmm.

- Ooh. Good in bed, though.
- Yeah, he was.

You call it "tequila"?
I call it "to-kill-ya."

You feel me, right, ma'am?

Where are you from?

They're not gonna laugh. Sit down.

All right, you've been great.

It's nice they let us come back.

You ever stop to think

that maybe we're part
of their punishment?

Hi. I'm Bonnie, and I'm an alcoholic.

Hi, Bonnie.

Bonnie Plunkett?!

Uh-oh.

Oh! I remember this one.
It's bad. It's really bad!

-- Synced and corrected by ChrisKe --
-- www.addic7ed.com --