Original subtitles

Previously on Kidding...

Where's the party?

To each his own.

My last meal gonna be a T-bone

and some licorice rolls.

- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --

They say time,

and space are both immutable,

governed by laws that cannot be broken.

All I have to say to that is...

Laws were meant to be broken,

and that's why they call me...

The amazing Pickle-ini.

Oh!

Outstanding.

I am completely bamboozled

by this master magician.

Dad?

You're not watching.

I'm sorry, Phil.

You're right. Uh...

Can we take a... brief intermission?

What's wrong, Dad?

He isn't paying attention, again.

"My father doesn't want to ask this,

"but it would mean a lot to him

"if you could be there when he passes.

His last wish was to meet you in person."

Sorry, Jeff. Which friend is this?

Uh, this is my pen pal, Joey.

The state of Ohio's gonna execute him

day after tomorrow.

Oh, that friend.

Who's... who's Joey?

- The Wendy's Killer. - Oh.

You know, I've been thinking about it, and I really

- want to attend the ceremony. - Ceremony?

What ceremony?

This is a murderer's execution.

A boy is going to watch

his father wheeled into a death chamber.

I don't see why I can't hold his hand

- when I have two to spare. - I don't know, Jeff.

What if you just sit down with the son,

or... or take the family out for a meal?

Hey, anyone under five feet tall,

let's go look at stuff upstairs.

Me too, please.

If you're worried about controversy,

I feel I must remind you

that in 1989, I shared a cup of coffee

with an HIV-positive individual,

and that show won a Peabody Award.

This isn't fighting

for social justice.

They wouldn't round the corners

on this guy's bacon cheeseburger,

and he killed three redheaded women

- with a hammer. - Four.

Phil.

Three were with hammers.

One was pure strength.

The hammer was a myth. It was a wrench.

Can you please stop cataloguing

the nation's homicides in your spare time?

It's teaching me how to spreadsheet.

When are you leaving?

Why? You want to go to Belize?

I'm not being serious.

Why don't you just write a check, like Dad or Poppy?

Anybody can stuff money in an envelope.

I really... I wanted to build a school for girls.

So now, every time I go, they know my name,

and it's just the most fulfilling week I have.

So the Indica School for Girls was your dream?

You could say that.

So this is a girl called Julietta.

She's 14 here, but

when I met her, she was three.

She didn't even own pants.

She had holes cut into a Doritos bag.

So now, every time I see her,

we go shopping.

You're impressive and inspiring.

She is.

What if I just slip in,

you know, through the back door?

No one would ever have to notice.

I know you want to support your friend,

but some friends murder and don't deserve support.

People murder because they've never had support.

Lethal injection is wrong.

Isn't that what we believe?

Can I go to the execution?

- No, kiddo, you can't. - Please stop asking.

Honey, I know you want to be there,

but victims' families

attend these things, so if you go,

you'll have to sit next to them.

You'll have to make eye contact with them.

Are you sure you can do that?

I don't know.

I think so.

I believe in forgiveness.

Give this decision

some thought, hm?

Not everyone needs a friend.

I'm sorry I didn't pay attention to your magic trick.

Okay.

Night.

Will?

What are you looking for?

Oh, uh, my, uh, winter clothes.

For what purpose do you need your winter clothes?

I, uh... I want to collect the ones

that don't fit me as well

and donate them to the indigent.

That's very thoughtful.

Thanks.

Hey, want to come down to the kitchen?

I got something I want to show you.

Okay.

Say when.

Oh, when. When.

Mm.

Shh.

Now,

as you know,

this is the season

for Pickles family giving.

Mm-hm.

So, I am going to give this to you

and you get to decide where it goes.

Really?

Any cause you want.

Hi.

You're in anesthesiology, right?

That's me. Peter.

The difference between life and death.

I have a burning question.

I'm curious if the drugs used to lethally inject prisoners

are painful or not.

Well, the only people that can answer that are dead.

Right.

And standing right in front of you.

Sorry, bad... right.

Think of it as a three-pronged

cocktail, right?

First is potassium chloride.

That's the bad stuff. Imagine getting antifreeze

shot into your arm.

Second is thiopental.

That's a barbiturate that's supposed

to kill the pain.

But it's short-acting. It can wear off pretty fast.

Finally, uh, you have pancuronium bromide.

That's a paralytic agent.

The problem is, uh,

we don't know if the poor fellow's feeling

any discomfort, 'cause...

he's been rendered paralyzed by now, right.

I can't believe all that's legal.

Are you thinking of putting someone to death?

Not anymore.

Anything else I can help you with?

No.

That covers it.

See you around.

Hm.

Hey, what's your name?

You're right.

I don't want to wade into controversy.

I don't want to make the end of that man's life about me,

or about us.

You're making the better choice.

I do want to send his son the letters

that he's written to me over the years.

They're increasingly eloquent.

He deserves to have them.

They're in the drawer.

Oh, not this one.

That one.

This one's for non-prison pen pals.

Yo, Derrell, have you had your break today?

That's McDonald's.

Gina says she's not coming to see Dad.

Her own brother? Why?

- Mom, Mr. Pickles wrote back? - Uh-huh.

- What'd he say? - He's not coming.

He sent back all the letters your daddy sent him.

Guess he don't want them no more.

He invited us to dinner.

Some Chinese restaurant, though.

I hate Chinese.

Told you not to get your hopes up high.

That's where your daddy fucked up.

He's still my dad.

And here's what you won. Chicken lo mein.

Well, maybe if we just tell him...

Tell him what?

Your father killed four white women with red hair.

That's a credit score of 8,000. Tell him what?

- Tell him why. - Ah, Derrell,

they don't care why he did it. He did it.

Now come on.

Mama needs your help. Here.

This is for BlackPeopleMeet.

He's over there.

Oh. Sorry, Will.

Yo, Phil.

What's it like, having a dad

who's a psychic pedophile?

Do you mean psychotic?

I mean he's a pedophile who molests children,

but can see into the future

and knows he won't get caught.

Oh, you do mean psychic.

Ask your dad if he saw that coming.

Here.

Your nose is bleeding.

My sorrys.

Thanks.

We're suspending Phil for three days.

I hear the other kid started it.

Three days sounds appropriate.

- Come on, honey. - I told you,

he wasn't calling me names.

He was calling you names.

Well, if I hit someone

every time they called me a kiddy creep,

you'd be visiting me on death row.

I was trying to defend you.

PB and J are ready to teach about opposites.

Wow, look at that.

Oh.

I... can't talk with...

peanut butter in my mouth.

Hey, kiddo.

That's my new book. Comes out next year.

I earmarked a chapter for you.

I want you to read it.

Read it carefully.

Okay?

Hey...

Will said something to me about you giving him $100,000.

Oh, yeah.

So, Phil,

you got a girlfriend yet?

I'm 12.

Well, you know, the first girl

that I ever had a crush on...

her name was Cookie,

and I wanted to kiss her so bad, it hurt,

but I didn't want to tip my hand.

One day, I read a fortune cookie, and it said,

"Something delicious is gonna happen to you"...

I'm paraphrasing, but it was a sign,

so I wrote her name on the back of the fortune,

and that was all it took.

I dated her all through the sixth grade

and then again in the Navy.

What was middle school like for you?

They organized us by height,

and then they let the tallest one teach the class.

You should try out for lacrosse

and get out some of that aggression.

I want to, but Dad won't let us play contact sports.

He'll only let us play Little League.

Baseball can be a contact sport too.

Just slide with the spikes up.

The Honeybee Conservancy.

"Imagine a world

"without food or flowers.

"We are a nonprofit that works to sustain bee colonies

"and ensure the future

of our most precious pollinators."

Ah, I'm so proud of you.

This is so important.

Well, right now, I'm just donating,

but when I get older, I wanna

get my hands dirty, like Aunt Deirdre does.

- Hi. - Hi.

Miss Piccirillo, welcome back.

Looks like we have you for seven days

in the Queen Victoria suite.

Thank you, Julietta.

I'm sorry. No hablo.

Oh, I'm just asking if you want

indica or sativa.

Oh...

I can't get up.

Belize!

Enjoy.

Mr. Pickles,

- please, enjoy. - Thank you.

Thank you.

Before we enjoy this delicious meal

with our new friends Derrell and Latrice,

I... Phil.

Please?

I'd like to say that sometimes,

it takes a terrible circumstance

to bring good people together,

and I would like to tell the both of you that

the Pickles family is your family.

All right.

So Darryl, how old were you

when you started watching Puppet Time with your dad?

It's Derrell.

Oh, okay.

He never seen Puppet Place,

or... or whatever.

His dad never seen it, either.

Oh.

But he liked hearing about it,

and he liked talking with you, Jeffrey.

You really think you can't go, huh?

Well, it's not a matter of...

Thank you so much for understanding.

This kung pao looks spicy!

Mm.

I'm really glad you're with us, Derrell, and it's nice...

What's it like, being the son of a mass murderer?

- Phil! - What?

You said ask good questions.

Where are the bodies buried?

Has he seen the meme of his dad

wearing parachute pants with the caption saying

"It's hammer time"?

- Philip... - It's... hey, it's all right.

It's all good.

He was a real good artist.

He could've been a cartoonist for The New Yorker.

Instead, he was a high school dropout

and an unlicensed mechanic.

One day, a man came into the shop,

noticed my dad could draw. His name was Arnie.

He was a reporter for The Columbus Tribune.

Said Pops might have a shot freelancing for them.

Pops waited by the phone for six months,

but never got a call.

He was 23,

married, with a kid,

and a busload of parking tickets.

The tickets piled up.

It was like, what, $3,000 to get the car back.

No one in my family's ever had

more than $1,000 to their name at any one time.

You know, my dad goes to court,

tries to fight it, loses,

and then, on his way out,

guess who he runs into?

Arnie.

Asked my dad, "Hey,

why didn't you follow up?"

How was my dad supposed to know

that following up was a thing?

Dad gets on the bus,

and he gets out at Wendy's to have a hot meal.

He saw those corners on that bacon cheeseburger,

and he didn't want corners on his cheeseburger.

He just wanted a normal, round hamburger.

But she wouldn't give him a normal hamburger.

And he just snapped, man. You feel me?

We don't live how you live,

so we don't know what you know,

so we can't move how you move

to get what you got.

And all my dad wanted to hear before he go

was that you think he can draw good.

Draw well.

Come here.

You're hurting my arm.

That boy has every reason to ask

for everything, and doesn't.

You have no reason to ask for anything,

and you can't keep your mouth shut.

Learn how to keep your mouth shut.

You hear me?

So I talked to a colleague

about the lethal injection drugs they use,

and it turns out, they're painless.

_

That's because you don't see who he is.

You just see who you want him to be.

I just want him to be a normal kid who listens.

How's he supposed to listen when you're screaming at him?

That was not screaming.

He doesn't listen because you don't listen.

- I listen all the time! - And I think that you don't listen

because if you...

I am incredibly interested in everything

that happens to our children.

Sometimes, it's hard to be him.

Remember who his father is.

Now's the time to ask me something,

if you got something to ask.

Why Jeff Pickles?

Ten years ago, I wrote letters to three people:

Bill Clinton, Charles Barkley, and Jeff Pickles.

Only Jeff Pickles wrote me back.

Sometimes, the characters write to me.

The fly is my favorite.

Flies eat shit.

He eat shit every day of his life

and still finds a reason to be happy.

You think Jeff's gonna make it?

Yeah, probably.

I don't know.

Well, we both know I'm not going to heaven,

but sometimes, I think that... if I'm lucky...

I might end up in Pickle Barrel Falls.

Way Jeff describes it,

sounds like a nice place to live.

Excuse me.

Is Derrell here?

He's being asked for his last words.

Will we get to hear them?

Normally, there's a microphone,

but it's broken.

Mind if I join you?

We can talk, or... eat.

None of those things...

The boss says whatever dish you order,

he's gonna name it after you.

Well,

that's a pickle for a Pickle.

I really want franks and beans, but...

I guess if kids order that,

it's not a very healthy choice.

I guess I'll have a salad.

You don't want anything?

Did he...

did he have, like, last words?

I couldn't hear him through the glass.

It looked like he said "I can't wait."

I don't know what that meant.

Maybe you do.

Yeah.

I do.

Thank you for going.

It really meant a lot to him.

He didn't have a lot of friends.

What do you think makes people snap like that?

Like he did?

Everyone has a breaking point.

Yeah.

I feel you.

I'm sorry.

I didn't want to be there.

Derrell,

where do you want to be?

Whoa.

- That's Launch Pad Lake. - Mm-hm.

Can I touch the rocket?

Yeah, but don't push the red button.

We just had the roof fixed.

- You serious? - Derrell.

- How do you do? - How do you do?

My name is Sebastiano Piccirillo,

but everybody calls me Seb Pickles.

Nice to meet you, Mr. Pickles.

They call him other stuff too.

You're fired.

I'm gonna go push the red button.

Come on, Phil. Smile.

Throw home! Throw home!

Phil, don't!

Put your seat belt on.

Seat belt!

It's on!

Mr. Pickles' Puppet Time.

How can I help you?

Please hold.

Come on. Let me take you home.

- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --