All language subtitles for bobs.burgers.s15e11.1080p.web.h264-successfulcrab[EZTVx.to]

Wipe, wipe, wipe.
And that food's not coming off.

Now it's Tina's problem.

- Thanks.
- Crap, it's Fischoeder.

He probably wants rent.
Bob, quick,

- make a bunch of money.
- Yup.

Hi, Mr. Fisch.

- Hi. -Hello.
- Hi.

Hello, Belchlings.

Mr. Fischoeder, sorry. I-I
know we're late with the rent,

but, Yes, Bob, I would
be shocked if you weren't.

Listen, I'm here because I
need your catering services.

I'm having a
reception at my home

for the musicians of the Wharf
Arts Symphony Orchestra.

- Okay. When?
- Tomorrow night.

- Tomorrow night?
- Are you crazy?

To be frank, you weren't
my first choice, but Irv

from Irv's Hors d'Oeuvres
and More d'Oeuvres

got a bacterial infection
and now he's covered

- in sore d'oeuvres.
- Yuck.

Anyway, there's a
concert coming up.

Udo Pfeffer's Fifth Symphony.

It's a very special
one-night-only performance,

and the conductor
will be someone

very handsome and charming.

- Timothée Chalamet?
- Me.

Wow.

Can you just be a conductor?

You can if you have a
love as deep as mine

for Pfeffer's Fifth.

Also, I've given the symphony
a truckload of money,

and rich people can
do whatever we want.

There it is.

But isn't conducting hard?

I mean, it's kind of just
waving your arms around, right?

-No? -Yes.

But it's also

about a perfectly
timed hair toss moment.

What's a hair toss moment?

Whoa.

Nice.

- Nice.
- That was, that was really good.

Anyway, this reception
will be a chance

to show the musicians
a good time, you know,

before rehearsals.
Butter them up a little.

Butter them up? Why?

Well, some of my ideas

about how the piece
should be conducted

are considered controversial.

Ooh. Dish.

Let's just say I'm part
of a small but passionate

group of Pfeffer-philes
who believe the composer

intended the first movement
to be played at a faster tempo

than most people are used to.

It unlocks the power of
the piece, makes it roar.

Fun. I love when things roar.

Lions, fires.

- The '20s.
- Woman.

So, if you help me out
with some tasty food items,

I'm prepared to forget
about this month's rent.

And if the evening
goes really well,

the food's a hit, the
musicians leave ready

to do anything for me,

and I'm not talking about
inside-the-pants stuff, Bob,

though I can see
you're thinking it.

No, no, no, I-I... no.

- I was.
- If the evening goes well,

I'll forget about next
month's rent, too.

So, two months' rent?
Bob, it's pretty good.

Yeah. I-I guess we're
catering this party.

Wonderful. Okay,
my rules for caterers:

don't go poking around,
looking for secret rooms

or embarrassing
erotic paraphernalia,

and try not to use
the bathroom at all.

How about just one big
one at the end of the night,

- as a treat?
- If you must.

Yay.

Look at us,
serving crispy cheese balls

like classy food people.

And I'm gonna
have just one more.

- Gene, no.
- Boo.

Louise, what are you doing?

- Stacking napkins.
- That's-that's too many.

Is it, Dad? Or do
you think too small?

Okay, yup, too many.

I'll pick them up.

- Whoa!
- Sorry. Floor napkin?

Okay, kids, know what?

I just realized that your
helping is not helpful.

All of you, maybe go...

- Explore the mansion?
- No, not allowed.

Play in the backyard.

- Okay. -Sure.
- Okay, bye.

And the fastest
way to the backyard

is probably through
the entire house, right?

Yup.

These sliders are
going over okay, right?

I got excited about
peach sliders,

but they aren't an
obvious crowd pleaser.

They're great, Bob. Plus
peaches keep you regular.

Right, sir? He gets it.

Hi, Mr. Fischoeder.

Is the party going
how you want it to go,

r-rent money-wise?

Bob, you see that man over
there? The one who's bald

but in a more distinguished way
than what's happening with you?

Yeah. Smart-bald.

That's
Jackson the concertmaster.

First violin. If I
can win him over,

the whole orchestra
will fall in line.

- Okay.
- But I can't go chasing him.

He'll smell fear.

I'm going to charm my way
through the other instruments.

The woodwinds will be easiest.

Sweet, skittish woodwinds.

I'll just ask to see
photos of their cats.

Then the brass
players. A bit fratty.

I'll get them talking
about their spit valves.

Swap spit stories, if you will.

Percussionists
over there. I'll say "boom" a lot.

They'll love that. And finally,

the strings.
They'll think and do

whatever the concertmaster
thinks and does,

so if I reel him in, by
the end of the night,

I'll have all the strings
strung along nicely.

Sounds like a plan.

Yes. Yeah.

That's my Swedish-ish...
whatever... housekeeper Inga.

This is how she
likes to communicate.

Inga, what are
you trying to say?

I don't remember
what those mean.

- Felix is back.
- Poop.

- But what's wrong?
- Felix can't be here.

Parties make him
even worse than usual.

I had arranged for him to be
at an ayahuasca retreat tonight.

And I a-wanna ask-a
him a-what happened.

A party. Okay.

Hi. Hello. You're here.

I was just at a super
exclusive ayahuasca retreat.

I left because they didn't have
my favorite ayahuasca flavor.

Barbecue. What's your
favorite ayahuasca flavor?

I bet it's dumb.

I'll go deal with it.

But keep up the good
work. And, smile.

Not you, Bob.

That's worse.

You hear that? He said,
"Keep up the good work."

Two months' rent, here we come.

Yeah.

the concertmaster
guy's coming over.

I'm sick of it,
Kip. Every season

there's a new rich nincompoop
we have to pretend to follow

while he stands up there doing
some arhythmic herky-jerky.

It's a waste of time
and talent. My talent.

- Yeah, an-and my talent.
- I mean...

What do you call someone
who hangs around musicians?

- I don't know.
- What?

A viola player.

He loves the viola jokes.

It's fun for me,
as a viola player.

What's a viola?

This
is a bad plan, Louise.

Is it, Tina? Or are you just bad

at boosting people up to
reach heavy swords on walls?

You don't
want to go to that party, Felix.

It's Mr. Fischoeder.

Abort. Abort.

It's boring.

Children, children, children.

Felix, I have a
favor to ask you.

Gross.

Will you watch these
little rapscallions

and keep them out of trouble
for the rest of the evening?

What? I don't wanna.

- Felix.
- I'm going back to the party.

I'll give you a scoop
of chocolate ice cream.

Two scoops.

- Deal.
- Hot fudge.

- You're pushing it.
- Fine.

Kids, follow me. But
don't look at my bottom,

these slacks are not flattering.

No, they're not.

I'll have Inga run
and drag your old toys

into the library so you
can keep 'em occupied.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

We don't need
someone to watch us.

Shh. I need you to watch Felix.

Under no circumstances
is he to return to the party.

Ooh. What's in it for us?

How does $20 sound?

- Each.
- $30 total, ten each.

Plus the sword.

That's a Prussian dueling saber.

I'll find you a
dagger or a bayonet.

Will that suffice?

We okay with 30
bucks and a bayonet?

- Do we need a bayonet?
- You don't want to need it

- and not have it.
- Okay.

- Deal.
- Done.

People who own football teams

don't put themselves in
as "guest quarterbacks."

Excuse me, what's your name?

I'm Bob. This is my wife Linda.

Yes, Bob, Linda,
how would you feel

if some entitled rich
guy in a white suit

showed up to where you work
and made you do his bidding?

- We can relate, actually.
- It happens a lot.

And what if that rich guy
wanted to take something

you hold sacred, something
like, say, Pfeffer's Fifth Symphony,

and just rich guy all over it?

You mean, because of
Mr. Fischoeder's whole

playing it faster thing?

Wait, what?

I mean, nothing. Forget it.

Good Lord.

Are you saying
Fischoeder is a tempoist?

I don't, I don't
know what that is.

A-a what? A-a tampon-ist?

A tempoist.

They're crackpots
who think Pfeffer

intended the first
movement of the Fifth

to be played at some
ridiculous tempo.

They wave around one
illegible letter from Pfeffer

to his mistress as proof that
Pfeffer intended it that way.

It's a desecration.
It's like... it's like...

peach on a burger.

Fischoeder's idea, I assume?

Well, I won't let Fischoeder

put his tacky, wacky
peaches on Pfeffer's burger.

I'm not going to play the piece,

and the orchestra
won't play it either.

- Whoa, um...
- Wha?

- Right, Kip?
- Um...

Kip's on board.
We'll sit on our hands,

and Fischoeder can
swing his little baton around

in a silent concert
hall. Come on, Kip.

Coming. Great cheese balls.

- Super yummy.
- Kip!

Thank you.

God, I blurted out the stuff

about playing it faster
and ruined everything.

- Calm down.
- Look, Lin,

the concertmaster's over
there spreading it all around.

I'm sure he's
talking about music stuff.

B-flats or whatever.

He was probably right
about the sliders, by the way.

Maybe the peaches are tacky.

Jackson can
go French a horn.

Mr. Fischoeder's coming
over. I... I got to tell him.

Bob, Linda, is it just me,
or has the vibe shifted?

I feel like we jumped from
the beginning of Boogie Nights

to the end of Boogie Nights.

Mr. Fischoeder, I-I'm sorry.

I accidentally told
the concertmaster

about your plan to
play the piece faster.

I see.

Yeah, and now he says
the orchestra won't play at all.

A big deal? Not a big deal?

Well, my intention was to
save that bit of info for my toast,

when everybody's tipsy and happy

and tooting each other's tubas.

- Ooh.
- Bob, I should have told you

not to speak. At
all. And to shower.

So those things are on me.
But I can still win them back.

She said she'll be right over.

Or we're mating.
I'm not sure which.

Inga, under the bar is my copy

of Harvey Hirschman's
Superior Cocktails.

On page 52, you'll
find the recipe

for Cleopatra's Climax.
Make two pitchers.

And a pitcher for Inga?

Yes, yes, a pitcher for Inga.

When these feisty maestros
have a Cleopatra's Climax,

they're gonna loosen right up
and we'll be back in business.

Ooh.

She'll need help behind the bar.

Lady-Bob, how are
you with a garnish?

- Great-ish?
- Splendid.

Your big fat mouth that doesn't
quite go with your mustache

hasn't ruined us yet, Bob.

Good.

This one's
fun. You'll like this.

I've seen Indiana Jones.

Our faces are
about to get melted.

Whoa.

Did you guys not have one
of these when you were little?

No, but we had a cup of
slime that made a fart sound.

I call captain.

I love the amount of
swords in this house.

You know what? This cannon
might possibly still work.

Cover your ears.

And the cannons won't fire.

Well, this is gonna
be a long night.

- -my God!
- Good.

Here you go. These are a hit.

Whoa, where'd
you learn to do that?

Olive Garden.

See, Bob? It's working.

Cleopatra's Climax has
changed the course of history

in the free world
more than once. Twice.

Oily.

And look how he
decorated this place.

You'd think he
had patches over both eyes.

It's hideous.

Oof. Jackson gets even meaner

when he drinks hard liquor.

Remember the open bar
at the Nutcracker reception?

He made the entire
wind section cry.

Yeah.
He broke those winds.

No. Jackson gets meaner
when he drinks hard liquor?

Yes, I heard. Not to worry.

I'll win him over with my toast.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

- I'm going to get pre-toasted.
- Okay.

Good old Lincoln logs,

the shining star of
Abraham Lincoln's legacy.

These are the originals,

back when they made
'em with big old logs.

Felix, maybe we can
do something else?

Something not as
sweaty? Or loggy?

God, you kids are difficult!

I'm gonna check out
the party real quick.

- No, no, no! ...
- No!

Don't go back to
the party! I-I mean...

Stay. Here? With us?

Geez, you love me.

Am I a great babysitter?

- Um...
- Yeah.

Hey, maybe you
could show us...

that thing.

Puppet show?

That is a puppet no from me.

- I want to go to the party.
- Okay.

What if we put
on a show for you?

Fine. But make it good.

No multiverse
crap. I'm sick of it.

Everyone,

I'd like to give a toast.

I'm being drowned
out by the brass section.

Woodwinds, now I
know how you feel.

Anyway, I've been
waiting patiently

for this moment all night long.

The timpani player can relate.

Yup.

Ha! I don't get it, but
he's doing good, right?

Yeah, but look at
the concertmaster.

God. Angry
eyebrows. So bushy.

I see Jackson Woodall, our
first violin and concertmaster.

Let's hear it for Jackson!

You know, I once
saw Jackson play

the Mendelssohn
Violin Concerto perfectly,

even with a sprained
middle finger.

I can tell from the welcome
you've shown me tonight,

Jackson, that your middle
finger is back to full form.

Can
you pick up the pace?

That's what you want us to do, isn't it?

- God.
- Not good.

Yes, I do believe

Pfeffer favored the
Fifth at a faster tempo.

But even if that
doesn't fluff your fiddle,

I only ask you to play it
and keep an open mind.

A piece that survived five wars

and its use in that one rather
poignant cracker commercial

-can certainly survive
my awkward fumblings.

Boy.

Now I want crackers.

Pfeffer's Fifth was
composed by a man

with decades of experience

and daily commitment
to his craft.

It premiered in
Vienna before royalty,

played by musicians who
indentured from the age of five

in order to earn their
place on that stage.

And you'd have it
blaring from a calliope

on a carousel on Wonder Wharf

while children spin
around on wooden horses,

going faster and faster
and faster and faster!

I won't stand for it! I won't!

Who's with me? Hands?

I want to see hands!

Message received.

I'll step aside.

I will not conduct
Pfeffer's Fifth.

Now if you'll excuse me,

I'm going to the place
where I keep my drugs.

And, no, I don't
intend to share.

- No.
- Yeah, that's not good.

- Here.
- Thank you.

Poor Mr. Fisch. He was
so excited about conducting

- his Pfeffeffeff.
- I feel like I should maybe go find him.

This isn't exactly my fault,

but it-it is also,
a little bit.

- A lot bit.
- Aah!

A lot your fault.

He will be in the hedge house.

Wh-Where's the hedge house?

In the hedge maze.
Where else would it be?

Watch your step.
There is peacock poop.

Peacock poop in the hedge maze?

I don't judge your hedge maze.

Sor-ry.

And that's that
episode of Friends.

The one where they
all were puppets.

Great job. Great
Ross. Great Phoebe.

Wasn't even close
to Joey's voice.

Really? "How you doin'?"

And now I believe
I will slip out

for a well-earned drinky-dink.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
We're in a library

and we haven't even
looked at any books yet.

You've got to read us one...

Uncle Felix.

Ew.

- Whoa.
- Wow!

Yes. Secret room.

Yeah, libraries
have secret rooms.

Pretty sure it's the
law. My God.

You kids have never been
in a library hidden room?

That is so sad.

It is sad! It's pathetic!

Please show it to us. Lot
of dreams coming true here.

Follow me.

Remember the rule
about my bottom.

Secret room,
secret room, secret room!

This is the home gym.

You sound disappointed.

Are you a StairMaster person?

Wow. Peacock poop is huge.

. Music.

It sounds like it's
coming from... that way.

Damn it.

And
that's how you do it.

See how much
stronger I just got?

Each of you can
do three sets of 50.

I'm gonna pop into the party,

and you will stay...

here.

Are you trying to
lock us in here?

No, I'm
babysitting you.

Know what might work better?
Why don't you get on the other side

- and pull?
- Ha! You shouldn't have told me that.

No, no, no, no! Son of
a...

Do we feel
good about this?

I feel good about
$30 and a bayonet.

Besides, it's just till
the end of the party.

Yeah, and he's gonna
get so buff, he'll thank us.

Yes! Hedge house!

Hi, Mr. Fischoeder.

Is this the Pfeffer song?

Yes. The dumb slow version.

What-what are you holding?

It belonged to Pfeffer. When
he was composing the Fifth.

- What is it?
- His diaper.

He wore it

so he wouldn't have
to leave his piano bench

for the three days it took
to write the adagio section.

"Tempoists."

We're not crackpots.
We're right.

Sure, no self-respecting
symphony orchestra

has ever recorded it faster.

But that's because
they're afraid.

Afraid of how right we are.

Read the letter for
yourself. You'll see.

- The letter?
- From Pfeffer to his mistress.

It's written in Austrian German,

and he uses Italian
musical terms.

I can't read any of that.

I don't know those languages.

Right. Yes, you speak
some crude worker dialect.

Look, right here...
he says he's excited

about the symphony
he's almost finished.

He says it will be
vivace con coraggio,

which means
"lively with courage"!

"Vivace" is understood to be
around 150 beats per minute,

but "con coraggio"
suggests a tempo

of at least 170
beats per minute!

- Don't you agree?!
- Um, totally.

Obviously. Of course.

But, Mr. Fischoeder,

y-you were so
excited to conduct.

What if you just do
it the regular way?

I was excited. And I did
get my tuxedo re-tuxed.

So... can't you just
go back to the party

and tell them you won't
do the tempo thing?

Okay.

Fine. I'll do it the
slow, sucky way.

Good. A-And
you don't have to give us

the two months' rent.
Unless you want to.

Because you think
it would be cool.

Don't worry.
You'll get your two months.

Thank you.

Life can be disappointing, Bob.

Even when you're rich.

Do you think that would
make a good bumper sticker?

Part of it.

The symphony. We're
here. Can you believe it?

This family? We're so fancy.

Did everyone remember to
fart outside before we came in?

Yes.

Mr. Fischoeder!

Hello, Bob.

Are-are you excited?

Quite.

Okay. How were rehearsals?

We played the piece
at the "normal" tempo

and I waved my arms
around the normal amount.

Now if you'll excuse
me, I should go backstage

and maestro-bate.

It's not what you think.

It's when you polish your baton.

But that's not what
you think either.

Row "G." Park it here, Coolio.

Thank you, Harold. Have
you been an usher here long?

- Can it! Sit!
- Yep.

Mr. Fischoeder just seemed so...

- Broken?
- Empty?

- A shell of a man?
- Yes. Thank you.

But isn't it better to just
do what you know works?

You know? Don't rock the boat?

L-Like those peach sliders
we made for the party.

They-they were too much.

What are you talking about?

People loved the peach sliders.

What? But the concertmaster
said that they were...

Who cares about that dork?

People were telling me
all night they loved 'em.

"Peach sliders. Peach
sliders. "

They were? No one told me that.

Well, people tell me things

'cause I'm a more
engaging and friendly person.

- You should try that, Dad.
- Gonna be tough

- with that face.
- Yeah.

- Those jowls.
- Yeah.

I got to go talk to him.

But the thing's about to start.

Maybe you have two minutes?

Maybe it's like Guns N' Roses

and they come out whenever
they damn well please.

O-Okay, I'll be right back.

Back to your seat, slick.

- Show's about to start.
- Harold, I was just... I got to...

- Just nothing, Jack.
- I got...

- Butts in seats.
- Please, I need...

Just for a second.
I'm just lea...

Hey, that guy brought
food into the auditorium!

Wha?! Okay, who's the wise guy?!

Someone must like smackdowns!

- Mr. Fischoeder?
- Bob,

what are you doing backstage?

Even by classical
music standards,

you're not hot enough
to be a groupie.

Poof, poof, poof, poof.

Um, the a-advice I gave you

- about just conducting the piece the usual way...
- Poof, poof, poof.

- I-I think I was wrong.
- Poof, poof.

You should do it.
The tempo thing.

- It-It's why you wanted to conduct in the first place.
- Poof, poof.

- Who cares if it rocks the boat a little?
- Poof, poof, poof.

The mustache man is right.

Th-Thank you, Inga.

- Now. Not before. Poof.
- Right.

Old advice was stupid.

- I-I get it.
- Really bad.

Two minutes, people!

- It's time.
- So, are you gonna play it at the faster tempo?

- Poof, poof, poof.
- It's too late. It's not how we rehearsed it.

Inga, a little more
on the forehead.

- Poof.
- Bob needs a little, too.

- Poof.
- Th-Thank you.

Think Felix
is still mad at us

for trapping him in the secret room?

He'll get over it.
He's a big boy. Sorta.

Wish
he'd stop staring, though.

Waving.

- Punk!
- Bob,

sit, sit. It's about to start.

- Wait, what's on your face?
- It's, powder.

You look good.

The concertmaster.

I hope he gets tromboned
in the strombolis.

He-He's not gonna
do it. The tempo thing.

Well, he's doing... okay.

Looks a little stiff.

A lot stiff.

Mr. Stiffy up there.

My God.

Is he doing the fast thing?

I think he's trying?

The concertmaster's

trying to get them
to play it slower.

It's a tempo battle.

They're tempo battling.

Is the orchestra into it?

And are people
bopping a little bit?

Looks like people are bopping.

- Hair toss moment.
- Damn.

That's my landlord.

Ha-ha!

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