All language subtitles for Pushing Daisies - 01x06 - Bitches.WEBRip.x265-Kontrast.English.C.updated.Addic7ed.com

Previously on Pushing Daisies

I missed you.

I missed you, too.

Can we get on with this, please?

You think I faked my death?

Unless you have a better explanation.

So, does Ned know what you think you know?

Who knows?

Do you pet him?

Maybe if you petted him once in
a while, he wouldn't be so neurotic.

I can't actually touch him, but I pet him.

With a stick?

It's more like a handle
to a petting device.

Aah!

You saved me!

Ned

-==http://subland.5286.cn==-

Pushing Daisies Season01 Episode06

sync: СÂú À♪ÀÇÀË, corrections: Joopdehoop

Bedtime at the longborough school
for boys was a time for dreams...

dreams filled with the bliss that
came from a happy childhood.

But on this night, one boy chose
to dream with his eyes wide open.

11 weeks, 1 day, 7
hours, and 41 minutes ago,

young Ned was living
that happy childhood,

complete with a lovely
home, caring mother, and

boyhood sweetheart...
a girl he called Chuck.

But when his mother died, twice,
young Ned awoke to a new reality.

Though he could reanimate
the dead, young Ned could

only animate the inanimate
with his imagination.

On this lonely night, he
tried to re-create his past life.

But he'd lost his ability to dream and
found even his imagination failed him.

Still, he wore hope on his head.

And what young Ned didn't
know was at that very moment,

the girl he called Chuck
was wearing hope on hers.

They were together,
even if they were apart.

For unfortunately, the pie
maker could never, ever touch her.

Are you watching me sleep?

Uh, no.

Sort of.

But mainly was just
waiting for you to wake up,

but in the process of
waiting for you to wake up,

I was... yes, I was watching you sleep.

You do that a lot, don't you?

It's like watching you come back to life.

Again.

Good morning.

Oh! Oh! Oh!

You're not...

How come I’m not...

Maybe it wears off.

Maybe there's an eclipse.Maybe...

Oh, my god.

Your skin is amazing.

Stop talking.

We're wearing too many clothes.

I'm still wearing too many clothes.

You're not wearing any.

Oh!

Much better.

Don't tell Chuck.

Are you watching me sleep?

Mm... Yes, I was.

You do that a lot, don't you?

Um, yes, I do.

The Pie Maker wanted to tell Chuck that
he liked watching the moment she waked,

that it was like watching
her come back to life again.

So, instead, he said nothing.

So the Pie Maker sought to use Emerson
cod as a sounding board for that reality,

which recently included a
moonlit kiss with one olive Snook.

I had a sexy dream about olive last
night, and I’m sure it was influenced

by a reality-based kiss
by the road, you know.

There's no way for this conversation
to be anything but awkward for me.

She was wearing a Chuck suit in the dream.

What do you think it
means, beyond the obvious?

Dreams are just your brain processing
random rigmarole it couldn't find a place for.

It don't mean nothing except
you feel guilty about kissing olive

when you want to be kissing
some dead girl you can't.

I said beyond the obvious,

and olive kissed me.

It was a friendly expression
of innocent gratitude.

Was it a wet kiss or a dry kiss?

There was a little moisture, I guess.

Oh!

Dead girl dropped a bomb in
your subconscious with her saliva.

You make it sound so devious, and it's not.

It didn't mean anything, which is
why Chuck doesn't have to know.

Emerson Cod had a very
particular view on romantic relations.

Some women love like gangsters.

They be like,"ooh, baby, you
bleeding! How that happen?

"while they hiding the
razor in their weave.

Olive's not a gangster.

Why do you think
she always rubbing up on you?

To be nice.

It's an employer-employee
kind of niceness

that occasionally
includes platonic rubbing.

Ain't nothing platonic about it.

Ooh, you coming undone, ain't you?

I don't want to touch olive.

Not in that way.

Mm-hmm.

In fact, the Pie Maker was coming undone.

As he wrestled with the meaning
of olive's affections, olive wrestled

with her own emotions about the kiss.

So she confessed.

It didn't mean a thing.

That's why I’m telling you.

It was a friendly expression
of innocent gratitude.

A peck.

It didn't even last a second.

In fact, one thousand one. See?

Couldn't have been half that.

Half?

A third. Maybe even a quarter.

Very brief.

He didn't mention it?

No.

Should he have?

No

Olive Snook was saddened
her kiss wasn't worth a mention.

Oh, well.

I guess Ned deserves a friendly
expression of innocent gratitude,

but I don't think I'd
like it if you did it again.

I don't think I’d like it either.

I mean, I would, but not in this context.

So, that being said, were his lips soft?

You don't know?

We don't touch.

Well, not directly.

Prophylactically, yes, but nothing more.

You don't touch. You don't!

I have been watching you.

Not obsessively, but
I’ve been paying attention.

You don't touch.

We can't.

Which is why you kiss
through the plastic food wrap.

I couldn't get my head around it.

Do you have some kind of
deadly food allergy to Ned?

I'm gonna say yes.

I get swelling, eczema, hives.

You know, all things to avoid.

That's the most tragic story I’ve ever
heard, notwithstanding the big-ticket items

like genocide and famine,
but tragic nonetheless.

Oh, I don't know.

It's really not that bad.

And it wasn't... Yet.

At that very moment, 14
miles due west as a crow flies,

Harold Hundin was experiencing
something much more tragic.

His murder.

The facts were these...
Harold Hundin, a renowned dog

breeder and president of
the Papen county kennel club,

was 37 years, 11 weeks,
5 days, 1 hour, and 2

minutes old when he
was stabbed multiple times

in his office at the
Papen county kennel club.

The kennel club
offered a reward for

information leading to
the arrest of his killer.

And where there was a
reward, there was Emerson Cod.

Hello, Mr.Hundin.

We're gonna move through
things quickly and efficiently,

so pay close attention
'cause this concerns you.

You have one minute to
answer a brief series of questions.

Short, concise answers are best.

But feel free to
elaborate if you need to.

When does my minute start?

15 seconds ago.

Any last wishes or
woulda, shoulda, couldas?

I wish I could have said
goodbye to Bubblegum.

I have stick gum.

Bubblegum's my dog.

Hey, if you people are angels, I
would love it if you would surround her

with white light or positive
energy or whatever it is you do.

She was a sweet girl.

Yeah, yeah, white light. Check.

Next question.

Who stabbed you, Mr. Hundin?

There was stabbing, but nobody stabbed me.

Harold Hundin detailed the strange series
of events that resulted in his stabbings.

Before Harold Hundin could
stab himself, he was poisoned.

A puddle of spilled coffee,
an unfortunately positioned

designer dog brush with
an unfortunately sharp end...

Aaaah!

And his own tenacity expedited his death.

I tasted almonds in my coffee.

Real bitter.

Exceptionally bitter.

With an intense charismatic
flavor that could only be cyanide.

You could taste the cyanide?

A dog could taste it And they have
1/6 the number of taste buds I have.

Well, then, fool, why you drink it?

I was using an almond-flavored
coffee cream creamer in my coffee,

and I thought maybe it went
bad, but there were no curdles.

And by the time I figured out it
was poisoned, it was too late.

Who gave you the coffee?

My wife.

Oh, honey, how could you?

Now, that's gangster love.

Don't you worry.

"oh, honey" is gonna
get what's coming to her.

Great, I’ll come with.

See that?

Simple.

Ask a question, you get an answer.

There's no room for butt
scuttle or misinterpretation.

Oh, thank you, lord, for simple
things like: "My wife did it."

Ah, yes!

Hey. You find Harold’s wife?

All four of them.

That son of a bitch was a damn polygamist.

Harold Hundin was indeed
a damn polygamist with

multiple missuses, of
which there were four.

Hilary was his first...

Heather his second...

Simone his third...

And Hallie was his fourth and final wife.

But only one of the Hundin
wives killed their husband.

Wondering why her kiss with
the Pie Maker went unmentioned,

Olive Snook attempted to
mention the unmentionable.

We should clear the air.

Does our air need clearing?

Our relations on the road.

Oh, that. I haven't thought another...

Thought about that.

Four wives? That's just greedy.

And intriguing.

Some people like vanilla.
Some like chocolate.

Others like their Neapolitan.

I like Neapolitan.

Then you'd do well as a polygamist.

One woman to have, one woman to hold.

Why... why would you do that?

For the record, I would
make a horrible polygamist.

I'm easily distracted.

I wouldn't know where to focus.

Well, Harold Hundin knew where to focus.

Found himself the perfect
wife, except she had four heads.

They were all breeders, too.

They make children for their polygamy cult?

Dog breeders.

They make dogs for their polygamy cult?

Ain't nobody making
nothing for no polygamy cult.

So, which wife do you
think wanted to kill him most?

How do you know a wife did it?

He left a note.

A note. How mysterious.

Can I play?

No.

Sorry. Emerson doesn't like...

Although...

I love a good although.

Me too.

The same faces show up at four different
places asking suspicious questions,

they'll be onto us faster
than you can say "monogamy.

"hell, we got four suspects.

We got four faces.

Does that mean I get to play?

If you're playing,
it's, like, for play-play.

You know you ain't getting paid, right?

And the suspects were
these... Hilary Hundin, owner of

Poochie designer dog wear and accessories.

She was the first to
join Harold in matrimony.

Hilary Hundin was generally
pleasant, happy, and

perky, but might snap
if teased or surprised.

Pluralizing the marriage was heather
Hundin, a renowned pet psychologist

and host of the weekly
radio show Doggonit.

"Simone Hundin was Harold’s third wife.

She pioneered K-18
obedience, where demanding

dog owners got double
from their canines.

Bang, bang, bang.

Like the jack russell terriers
she trains and breeds,

Simone possesses strong
hunting instincts that,

if left unchecked, could
result in deadly aggression.

Harold Hundin's fourth and
final wife was young Hallie,

who bred Labradors and donated
them as seeing eye dogs to the blind.

Like her labs, Hallie was loyal,
friendly, and competitively obedient.

She craved human
attention, but if denied, her

competitive obedience
could go horribly awry.

Wait.

We going undercover, and by "undercover,
" I mean that under no circumstances are

you to reveal any factual
information about your person.

You mean you want us to lie.

I want you to lie consistently, and
we all got to take turns with the dog.

He has a name, you know.

Yeah, and you better lie about that, too.

Oh, you have a gorgeous
selection of couture.

Pickle loves him some D&G.

He'd like to know if that comes in green.

I'm just kidding.

He really didn't say that.

Hello, I’m Pimento.

And you are?

Ned.

Have you had Ned since he was a puppy?

Ned and I have been
together for a very long time.

We're intimate, but it's the appropriate
human-canine sort of intimacy.

He doesn't respect you.

He respects me.

Tell him to sit.

Sit.

Damn it, dog, you better sit your ass down.

He don't want to sit.

Sit.

You have a very lovely home.

It feels lovely.

And smells lovely.

Do you use an air purifier?

It helps with the dander.

How did you lose your sight?

I was cleaning out the kitty
litter, and I got cat sand in my eye.

Horrible infection. Very sad.

I know you're not blind.

Oh, thank you.

I felt awful doing that.

It was humiliating for both of us.

He looks like a pickle.

Doesn't he look like a pickle?

Do you always name your animals after food?

Mm-hmm.

I used to have a horse
named The Pie in another life.

That's 'cause I want to
be like Elizabeth Taylor.

She was so pretty.

Then The Pie died.

I just lost my dog.

Bubblegum.

I was in shock after I lost my Pie.

The horse, not the food.

Then one day I was walking along, and I
saw a bakery in the shape of a giant pie.

The food, not the horse.

Was a sign.

I don't know what it
said, but it was there.

Are you suggesting
that I’ll find the answers

to life and death in a
Bubblegum machine?

Bubblegum's dead?

I was looking forward to surrounding
her in white light and positive energy.

I wasn't quite sure how to do that,
but I thought at least I could dog-

sit or take her for a walk in the park.

You knew about Bubblegum?

Harold left a note.

Well, she was everything to Harold.

Well, we all were.

We were family, my sister-wives and me.

You didn't mind...

Sharing?

It's not as if he treated
me like one of so

many buried bones he
could dig up from the yard

whenever he saw fit?

Oh, I didn't mean to say it like that.

I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him.

Literally?

I was exaggerating
for dramatic effect, but

that's the way I felt
when we were together.

And if you feel something, it's real.

How did Bubblegum die?

I backed up over her.

Didn't look where you were going?

I just found out my
husband was murdered, and

in my panic to get to
the scene of the crime,

I forgot to check
my rear view mirror.

Clearly it's not an
affectionate relationship.

Oh, we're very affectionate.

It's just...

Ned's been having strange dreams lately.

His paws twitch, and he whimpers.
It would've been cute if it weren't so sad.

He may be experiencing
stress-related anxiety due to, uh...

Mating issues?

You're deflecting.

You're avoiding a deeper
discussion of Ned's mating issues.

Can't you see this is
making Ned uncomfortable?

Mr. Digby...

Ned's merely wrestling with the natural
anxieties of an inexperienced stud.

He's had experience.

Some.

Mating isn't just for the
betterment of the breed.

It's for the betterment of the dog.

Passions they never knew
even existed suddenly burst forth,

allowing discovery of their
true primal selves as they...

She was referring to her
late husband, not Digby.

Excuse me.

Heather Hundin took a moment
to mourn her husband, Harold,

and Digby and the Pie Maker
took to politely pretend not to notice.

Where were we?

Harold specialized in designer
breeds, like the jack-a-poo.

Who?

The jack russell-poodle mix.

The coll-a-dor, the lab-russell.

It was a niche, but it was Harold’s niche.

And the apex of that
niche was the creation of

the perfect new breed of
dog Harold Hundin named

Bubblegum.

So, Bubblegum was a
coll-a-dor-russell-a-poo.

The perfect hybrid of
border collie, Labrador

retriever, jack russell
terrier, and poodle.

Smart, loyal, athletic, and...

Hypoallergenic.

She's with Harold now.

Sounds like you gave Harold a long leash.

I never held Harold’s
leash or his anything else.

He wasn't my hound. I wasn't his bitch.

He liked dogs.

I like dogs.

So, nothing going on between you two?

What we had was a trained response.

Humans and dogs are the same.

Supply the right cue...

And they respond accordingly.

The only cue we ever gave
each other was commercial.

So, you two just used each other.

Haven't you ever used
someone for commercial gain?

When was the last time
you saw Harold alive?

Right before he died.

I handed him his coffee,
and I kissed him goodbye.

The morning he died.

I gave him his coffee.

I gave him his morning coffee,
and it was the last I saw of him.

I said,"why don't you
come by for some coffee?

"we had some things to discuss.

So he came by.

We discussed those things.

He took his coffee to go, and then he died.

My wife did it.

She had murder in her eyes.

And that murder was couture.

My wife gave him his morning coffee.

So did mine.

No wonder the guy can handle four wives.
The dude's caffeinated.

I don't think Hallie did it.

She didn't give me that impression.

Did she give him some morning coffee?

She said she gave him his
morning coffee, kissed him goodbye,

which is practically a confession,
but I still don't think she did it.

There she is now. You can ask her.

That's her.

The little one.

Mr.Digby.

Hi, Hallie!

Hi, Chuck.

Sit.

How did you guys find us?

Just looked for the bakery
shaped like a giant pie.

The food, not the horse.

We understand Harold left a note.

Who said anything about a note?

I said about the note.

Under, meaning below.

Cover, meaning the radar, people.

What is so hard about that to understand?

Sorry.

Who are you people?

We'll get to the particulars of that
once you get to the particulars of this.

What kind of cream did
you put in Harold’s coffee?

Soy.

Heavy cream.

I don't put cream in my coffee.

I use almond-flavored coffee cream creamer.

The police wrestled
little Hallie Hundin to the ground.

To the ground and she's small..
It was like a lion taking down a baby zebra.

We were awful tourists
sitting safely in our

camouflaged
SUV watching the injustice.

'Injustice'?

They found cyanide in her coffee.

My wife, the baby zebra,
is obviously being set up.

She breeds helper puppies
for blind children.

I mean, she's no killer.

She's an angel.

Yeah, angel of death.

Kennel club didn't think
baby zebra was set up,

and neither did the police.

Hallie did look innocent.

I know that sounds silly coming from
a private investigator...

Yes, it does.

But as a baker of pies,
it's not silly at all.

I look at a pie baking,
I know if it's done or if it's not done.

I can't tell you
how I know or why, but I know.

It's truth from that dark,
deep-rooted place deep down inside.

Pie hole.

It's... for you.

As the Pie Maker considered
all of the truths

he was keeping buried
within his deep-rooted place

and far away from Chuck...

Yes, we do.

I certainly can.

Bye, now.

Emerson Cod considered 25,000 new reasons
to reopen the case.

Uh, we need to prove
Hallie Hundin was innocent.

Your conscience calls you
on the telephone?

Those blind kids that
Hallie gave her puppies

to have put together
a "free Hallie" fund.

We exonerate Hallie,
we collect a reward.

You're taking money
from blind children?

I suppose I could pay my bills
with blind kids' smiles,

but their money is a lot easier.

Everybody's been really nice.

It's not at all like
those prison-exploitation films.

So, you dot need cigarettes or alcohol
or the right moisturizer to use as currency?

Oh, no.

That's my friend Teresa.

She says she runs the cell block,
so I’m protected.

She sleeps a lot for someone
who runs a cell block.

I don't think it's been
an easy road for her.

Well, it'll be a lot
easier road for you

once you help us find
out who killed Harold.

Hallie, was it Hilary,
Heather, or Simone?

It couldn't have been
any of my sister-wives.

We all loved Harold
too much to kill him.

Oh, no, it was one of
your sister-wives.

Harold said so.

In his note.

If you ask me...
oh, are you asking me?

Yes.

It was Ramsfeld Snuppy.

He's another niche dog breeder,
but not as niche as Harold.

Snuppy wanted our Bubblegum.

Snuppy wanted to collaborate with Harold to
make coll-a-dor-russell-a-poo superpuppies,

but I think Snuppy wanted
all the doggy treats to himself.

He could have easily planted the cyanide
in my almond-flavored coffee cream creamer.

But murder for a few puppies?

Snuppy had big plans for her.

The facts were these...

one Ramsfeld Snuppy was
the son of a furniture liquidator

and shopping network hand model.

Woof woof woof.

How much is that puppy
in the window?

Well, she can be yours
for twelve easy payments of $129,95.

And he went from a single
storefront puppy shop in Frognot, Texas,

to a nationwide empire of
Snuppy's puppies chain stores.

For Ramsfeld Snuppy,
money didn't grow on trees.

It was made in cages.

I was listening to the Heather Hundin's
weekly radio show, Doggonit,

and she said that dog breeding's
a lot harder than you think.

It looks easy enough.

No, it's not.

There's all these hoops
the prospective mates

have to jump through to
see if they're compatible.

Like their smell and their tastes.

They even have their own
kind of doggy kissing.

A bit like people kissing.

I thought you said
you wasn't gonna tell her.

I didn't.

You didn't have to.

Olive already did.

But for the record,
I’d have preferred to hear it from you.

The only reason I didn't tell you
was because it didn't mean anything.

Lots of stuff happens in the course of
a day that I don't bother sharing.

For instance, yesterday's
four berry pie was

actually three and a half
because I ran out of cranberries.

I didn't tell you that.

Actually, you did.

You asked
if orange counted as a berry,

and I said it didn't,
but no one had to know but us.

I like that you said 'us'.

well, we are an 'us', aren't we?

We're just an 'us'
with special circumstances.

Why do I always have
to be around for this stuff?

Maybe we just have to
embrace the idea that sometimes...

sometimes I might have to
hold someone else's hands

and sometimes you might
have to kiss somebody else's...

I don't want to
kiss anyone else's anything.

But maybe there's something
to this polygamy thing, you know?

Maybe one person isn't enough.

What?

Howdy, folks.

Hi.

What can I do for you?

We hear you're the man to see

if we want to get our hands
on a coll-a-dor-russell-a-poo.

There's a waiting list, though.

We're a little behind
on manufacturing.

Manufacturing?

Yeah, we had a little reproductive setback
when the alpha dog got run over.

But that doesn't mean
there won't be a superhybrid pup

under every Christmas tree
this year.

How do you plan to breed a bubble that's
burst or run over, as the case may be?

Son, why go through
all the hassle of breeding

when we can create the perfect copy
of man's best best friend

every time available exclusively
at a Snuppy's puppies near you?

I'm gonna clone Bubblegum
from her remains.

All I got to do
is find some viable DNAs,

fuse them into
some denucleated egg cells,

and plant the eggs in surrogate dogs
in all my nationwide stores,

and woof woof woof...

more litters of identical

coll-a-dor-russell-a-poos
than you can count.

But Bubblegum wasn't your dog!

Well, she wasn't.

Are you the Hundin lawyers?

We're friends of
the Hundin lawyers.

They saw the contract.

They know the whole deal.

I own Bubblegum dead or alive

Harold sold you Bubblegum?

Against his wives' wishes.

Probably why they wanted him dead.

But the ink was dry
before Hallie got to him.

I got what was coming to me.

Someone I need to see.

you knew Harold was gonna
sell Bubblegum to Snuppy,

yet you neglected to mention it
in our previous conversation.

And you think that gave me enough motive
to kill my husband?

That's exactly what I think.

You think wrong.

I didn't kill Harold.

Hallie thinks Snuppy did it.

Hallie would fetch a ball
in traffic if asked,

but in this case,
she isn't necessarily wrong.

Keep talking.

When Harold came to us
with his plan,

we threatened to get an injunction
as partners in the business.

That would have
held up Snuppy's plans for years,

so he killed Harold and framed Hallie.

That's one theory.

Another one is when you
heard about Harold and his plan,

you put an injunction
in the blood flow to his heart.

Do I seem capable of
that kind of aggression?

Well, you never
know what the body's

capable of until you
mess with their kibble.

So don't mess.

If he had paid attention
while awake,

Emerson Cod would have found the evidence
pointing toward Simone Hundin's guilt.

Feeling something was
amiss at the k-18 dog studio,

Emerson Cod's subconscious mind put it
together before his conscious mind could.

Someone or some dog
was using Bubblegum's collar.

Emerson Cod's dreams
had gifted him the collar as a clue.

He knew Bubblegum was alive

and that Harold Hundin's killer
was indeed still on the loose.

But worse, he feared
he was falling for her.

That dog is alive.

Alive or alive again?

The never-been-dead kind of alive.

And you got all this from a dream?

I thought dreams were
just supposed to be your brain

trying to process random rigmarole
it couldn't find a place for.

Sometimes in that random rigmarole,
there's a clue.

I'm gonna shake down Simone.

I'm gonna find that dog.

If you shake Simone
and the dog falls out...

Then she's the killer.

Fearing being alone with the girl
he kissed but did not love

and the girl he loved
but could not kiss,

the Pie Maker decided...

I'll come with you.

This is a solo shaking.

Hi.

Hello.Olive.

Look, I know things have gotten
a smidge awkward since the whole

Awkward? This isn't awkward.

It was just a kiss,

and I don't even think
our saliva was compatible,

so there's no reason to discuss
and make something that isn't awkward...

Awkward.

Olive pondered the black mark
on her relationship

with the Pie Maker she feared
was inked with a permanent marker.

I really screwed the pooch,
didn't I?

Your order for pickle came in.

That order was placed
under false pretenses.

Fortunately your credit card
was real.

Well, happy birthday to Digby
and congratulations to you, too, I suppose.

For what?

I heard about the plans
for cloning Bubblegum.

Guess you’ll getting your baby back
after all, in a way.

Snuppy can clone Bubblegum?

It has to do with DNA
and nucleuses.

Well, I was never
very good at science, but yay.

Yay!

At the obedience center, Emerson Cod believed
he had found the real killer

why is it that Bubblegum's collar
moves around every time I come over here?

I'm thinking it's because
you can't walk a dog without a collar.

And guess what else.

You can't walk a dead dog.

So I’m only gonna
ask you this once.

Where's Bubblegum?

You've got me.

I've got her, and I knew
if you knew I had her,

you'd assume
I killed Harold to keep her.

Yeah, quickly adding up to be
a little more than just an assumption.

I can only say I didn't
kill my husband so many times,

but for good measure,
I didn't kill my husband.

You can say it all you want.

I stopped listening.

The only thing I want to hear is

the clickety-clack of
Bubblegum's paws on the floor

as you bring exhibit "a"
on out here.

You seem more concerned
about Bubblegum than who killed Harold.

Stop playing and go
show me that superdog.

It's time for her walk anyway.

I'll go and fetch my coat.

Grab her collar
from the pedestal there.

Okay.

Simone Hundin had been
subconsciously training Emerson Cod,

who had a strong desire
to do as she commanded.

Bubblegum, heel.

This will go a lot easier
if you cooperate.

Ow!

Who the hell
you think you playing?

I'm asking the questions.

How long have you
been working for Snuppy?

I don't work for Snuppy.

A bunch of blind kids
with too much money

paid me to exonerate
your sister-wife Hallie.

I don't believe you.

I think he hired you to see
if I faked Bubblegum's death.

Well, why would he do that?

'Cause he can't clone a dead dog.

Yeah, he can.

You gave him everything he needed
when you handed him Bubblegum's ashes.

Only they weren't
Bubblegum's ashes, were they?

Bubblegum, go hide.

If you'll excuse me, I have
some leftover business to handle

and a funeral to attend.

As long as it ain't mine, I’m cool.

That remains to be seen.

Emerson Cod's hatred of the dark
began after a childhood prank

in which he was locked in a washing
machine for two nights.

Finding himself similarly trapped,

his adrenaline level
skyrocketed to a height

in which near superhuman strength
was achieved.

Ah! Yeah!

Uh-oh!

Yeah, that's gonna bruise.

Hey!

My wife is gonna kill
Ramsfeld Snuppy.

She's not my wife.

Simone, the wife that you know,
what the hell I am saying.

Come on!

Don't think it's almond latte.

Oh, you think it might be cyanide?

Why can't it ever be simple, easy?

He says, 'my wife'.

How hard could that possibly be?

Hallie didn't do it.

She's behind bars.

It must have been Simone.

It might not be Simone.

Simone was hiding Bubblegum.

She chloroformed you
and tied you up.

I'm not even gonna
mention the ball gag.

That's gangster love.

See?
That's what's rubbing me.

If she was gangster,

she'd have busted a
cyanide cap in my ass the

minute I sniffed out
her dog, but she didn't.

Why don't we just ask him?

Wait, wait, wait!
Stop.

We're about to take
another trip down pointless creek.

Okay, maybe Simone did it.

Maybe she didn't.

But Harold never saw who slipped
that poison into his coffee.

And Snuppy probably didn't either.

People are like dogs.

They run when they're guilty.

And Emerson Cod had a plan for
how to get their "guilty dog" to run.

All right, let's get him ready.

♪♪♪

One last touch
without touching him.

Would you prop him up?

He look like a wino on new year's.

Digby, stay.

Which way?

Over there.

Get out of the way.

Excuse me.

Sit.

And now Harold’s sweet wives
would each like to say a few words.

Harold was...

One of a kind.

Kind-hearted, sweet.

Sweet smile.

Full of the endless love
of championing...

Champions.

He was at the forefront
of the breeding world

and forefront of our lives.

He will be dearly missed by all.

All right, on my mark.

Mark.

That means now.

This wouldn't be my funeral,
would it?

You're supposed to be dead.

Aah!

You got a mint?

I got the nastiest taste
in my mo...

can you take care of that?

Yeah.

Sick her, boys!

The facts were these...

when Hilary became
Harold Hundin's one and only,

she thought she had the dream life.

But adding three more 'one and onlys'
was Harold's idea of a dream life.

She found new satisfaction
as her pentagonal union

produced the world's
most perfect dog, Bubblegum,

who was truly one of a kind
and the child she had always wanted.

But Harold Hundin
had other plans for Bubblegum.

She would be brought to living rooms

everywhere via the nationwide chain
of Snuppy's puppies.

Everyone, he believed,
deserved to have man's best best friend.

However, when he
told his first wife, Hilary,

of his plans to clone
their prized pup,

her reaction was anything but perfect.

He had made his decision,
Harold told her.

Bubblegum would be
the canine of the future.

So Hilary made her own decision.

Refusing to subject her
baby to the same torturous

shared existence she
had been cursed to live,

Hilary poisoned Harold
and framed Hallie to take any fall,

knowing good Hallie served
but did not drink caffeine herself.

Careful, sweetie.

It's hot.

But what the Hundin wives
learned upon their husband's death

was that Harold had already
signed the contract.

Snuppy owned Bubblegum,
dead or alive.

Snuppy can clone Bubblegum?

For Hilary,
hearing from olive that

Snuppy could clone the child
she thought deceased was too much to bear.

Over his dead body,

Bubblegum would
remain unique at all costs.

What Hilary did not know
was her multiple murders were for naught,

as sister-wife Simone
had secretly faked Bubblegum's death

the same morning Hilary took it
upon herself to poison their husband.

If you knew you wasn't guilty,
why you act like somebody who was?

To protect Bubblegum.

The only way to kill his deal with Snuppy
was to kill Bubblegum.

So you faked her death.

But Snuppy threw you a curve ball

when he showed you that contract that
said that Bubblegum was his, dead or alive.

That was a surprise.

I didn't know
he could clone a dead dog.

But I’m sure he was surprised

when he discovered
the ashes I turned over

were nothing but a rat
Bubblegum had caught.

Slick.

You don't know slick.

I wish I felt more heroic
tackling a woman half my size.

You brought her down.

She was your by zebra.

Or maybe she was the lion
who had the baby zebra in her maw,

and you were the crocodile
that came from nowhere.

I don't like the idea
of being a crocodile,

but I guess so long
as the baby zebra got away.

I'm gonna hug Digby
and pretend that he's you.

The Pie Maker was saddened

that Chuck could hold Digby
while he had no one,

- save the waitress,
- See you tomorrow.

Who he now realized
he did not want to hold.

Not in that way.

Olive?

Still here.

I'm sorry
I’ve been avoiding you,

and I’m sorry
I said our saliva wasn't compatible.

I'm a big girl.

I'll be okay.

I know you will.

Will you?

How will you ever know
if your saliva's compatible

unless you kiss her kiss her?

I already know.

I think I know.

No, I know or I will know.

Just takes time.

Time can take forever.

I hope you and Chuck make it work.

I really do.

If you can't,

I hope it doesn't
take forever to figure that out.

I just want you to be happy.

And olive did,

though she was not yet
ready to let go of the hope

that her perfect Pie Maker's
perfect happiness might lie with her.

Night.

Yeah.

As the Pie Maker
pondered the hand that he just held,

he began to understand
the many different forms love could take,

each one precious
in its own way.

Aw.

Thanks.

Though some were
more unique than others.

You're the only one for me.

I know you feel that now, but...

There are things you want.

There are things we both want.

So Everyone wants stuff.

We wake up every day
with a list of wishes a mile long,

and maybe we spend our lives
trying to make those wishes come true.

But...

Just because we want them
doesn't mean we need them to be happy.

What do you need to be happy?

You.

sync: СÂú À♪ÀÇÀË

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