Original subtitles

Oh, my God, did you see the calves

on the new Sparkletts guy?

I snuck a picture and I've already sent it to you.

You are such a good friend.

I know. Thank you.

Okay, so, how's the wedding?

Oh, there is a poppy seed on the groom's side.

Yeah, it's right-- Some people say

that we're too close, but I-I don't get it.

It's too deep. Alright.

I will see you at lunch. Bye.

Oh, no.

Eww. Floss much?

Nell? Nell Serrano?

Piper Ashford. Mm.

We were the same age.

Yeah, except you got old.

And you died. I know.

Super sadsies.

So is this where you work?

Is this, like, a factory of some kind?

It's a newsroom.

News is kind of like TikTok, but for people who can read.

I love your tiny little cubby.

It's kind of like the teachers' lounge

that you used to eat lunch in.

Howdy, Ace.

I'm sorry. I'm trying out new greetings.

It's a work in progress.

Of course you're friends with this goober.

Anyway, I was wondering if you got my e-mail

about the influencer.

Actually, I went to high school with her.

Do you happen to know how she died?

That's not important.

It's super tragic.

She was taking a selfie and she fell off a cliff.

Ha!

Oh, that is so perfect.

Yeah, it was.

I managed to post it on the way down.

I'm worried this job is making you callous, Nell.

No, you don't understand. Piper was a nightmare.

She was cruel and shallow and conceited and...

seems like she still is.

Since the two of you knew each other, go ahead

and take more time with this if you need to.

Oh. Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

I'll be done with this one real soon. Real soon.

Okay, so, here we go.

This is what we call a "cursory obituary."

It's, uh, superficial, just like you. Hmm?

And it's just a few brief sentences

in the back of the paper right next to the denture ads,

because that is all you deserve. Rude!

And I don't want to spend any more time with you, so--

Same, here, bit-- Boom!

Ha ha. Ha ha.

Oh, you have a little poppy seed in your teeth.

Oh. Yeah.

May I? No, Tina!

What? Ew. You cannot put your fingers in my mouth.

You can put your fingers in my mouth.

I don't want to put my fingers in your mouth.

Okay.

♪

- Captions by VITAC--

Ugh, I hate when Ben packs me chickpeas for lunch.

- Sammy? - Hmm?

Trade you for your burger. You're insane.

And you haven't stolen a single one of my fries,

so what is going on?

Ah, I'm just kind of having a weird day, you know?

I-I wrote this obituary about a girl

I went to high school with,

and it's just got me...

ugh, thinking about that time.

I loved high school.

As you can imagine, at a school for the performing arts,

I was kind of a big deal.

Were you? I even played Racetrack Higgins

in our school production of "Newsies."

Not only did that role ignite my passion for journalism,

but also, the local paper raved that my performance was,

and I quote, "competent."

I mean, I also loved high school,

except for I wasn't one of the popular kids,

so I was kind of just friends with everyone.

That's what all the popular girls say.

I should know because I say it all the time.

What?! Come on.

Okay.

I really just couldn't wait till high school was over.

Just felt like a waste of time.

I'm really happy those days are over.

Are they, though?

I feel like an office is just a high school

with more gossip and fewer accidental erections.

That kind of is true.

We all sit at our own desks,

seeking approval from other people,

and then you've got the cliques.

The geeks, the jocks,

the cool seniors, teacher's pet,

the weird loner, and then there's always

that one super-intense Queen Bee.

Nell? Oh, God. Yeah?

I'd like to see you in my office,

but please don't follow for at least 30 seconds.

I don't want people to think we're walking together.

One, two--

You don't have to count, babe. It's okay. Yeah, no.

Are you sure? Yeah. It's fine.

How would you like to write

your first-ever front-page obituary?

Are you serious?

Yes.

I would.

I promise not to let you down, Lexi.

Okay, great. This is the assignment.

Why? I don't understand.

I-I turned in this obit already.

Oh, my God. You're, like, obsessed with me.

Yes, you did write it already, but it was--

oh, gosh, what's the term?--

stanky garbage.

I like her. Mm.

What's the first thing you notice about Piper's Instagram?

She mangled the spelling of "entrepreneur."

She had four million followers.

Two million more than Bryce Dallas Howard.

No big deal.

Followers that will be driven to the newspaper

if you write a warm and thoughtful obituary.

Mm-hmm.

Oh. Hmm?

When I stop talking, it means the meeting is over.

See? Mm.

Oh, that makes it less personal.

Still hurtful, though.

Ha ha. Ooh!

- Oh! - Aw.

Take it, Dennis. Three-pointer.

Or you can just throw it back to us.

♪

You okay? Oh, no.

Did Tina flip her eyelids inside out again?

Someone hung a basketball hoop in the bullpen.

Oh, that's cool. No, not cool!

I don't like basketball.

Duh. You thought the Utah Jazz was a Mormon swing band.

Karl Malone is a bass player's name.

LeBron, think fast. Whoo!

Aah! Ooh.

That's very good. Ah, thank you.

We have fun. We have fun here.

Piper: You know what you should write about?

Huh? My memorial.

It's gonna be the most fire funeral ever.

The whole Piper Posse's gonna be there--

Kaitlyn, Mckenna, Mckenzie, McKaitlyn.

And you'll finally be able to go to a cool party.

I go to a lot of cool parties.

Escape rooms don't count.

Hey, Cheugy, there's some lady here to see you.

Me, I tell my squad not to visit me in the office

because unlike you, I have a dope work ethic.

Mason out.

Is that your mom?

No, that's my friend.

She looks like a mom.

Yep. Still waving.

You left your sweater at the bar the other night. Mm.

I was worried you might get a little chilly.

And I packed your favorite snack, wine.

Aww, thank you, Cricket.

Today might be the day I start drinking on the job.

Are you okay?

I got the front page story,

which is a huge step in my career,

but the woman that I'm writing about

was a mean girl at my high school,

and I'm just-- Ugh, I'm just kind of starting

to get her negative voice in my head again.

Do you know why mean girls are so mean? Hmm?

Because deep down inside, they are insecure.

You think so?

Jenny Witt tormented me for two years

because she was jealous of me.

On the other hand, I did steal her boyfriend.

Noice.

Uh, thank you, Cricket.

I should probably get back to work.

Okay. Thank you, thank you.

Bye. Bye.

I can't believe you're in charge

of the last thing that's ever gonna be written about me.

I don't want an obituary that sucks, okay?

It won't suck.

Although, writing about you is like trying to put

a positive spin on the Hindenburg.

Number one-- No one understands your weird references.

And, "B," if you don't figure this out,

you're totally gonna boof this,

just like you did in the ninth grade.

I don't know what you're talking about.

You don't remember your speech from freshman year?

As editor of the Bulldog Gazette,

I understand that fiscal responsibility is--

Pbht!

...is a profoundly solemn oath...

You suck, Nelly Fart-ado!

Go ahead, laugh.

One day, I'm gonna be running The New York Times

and hanging out with Josh Hartnett.

Interesting. I do not remember that.

Yeah, you didn't exactly reach your career goals, did you?

And I don't think that's Josh Hartnett.

You know, I don't care what you say.

I'm a strong, successful journalist.

Maybe you fooled these dorks into believing that,

but I know the truth.

You're still insecure Nelly,

and you know you're not gonna be able to pull this off.

Oh, my God.

I need a break Oh.

Oh!

Classic Fart-ado.

Pbht!

Hey. Hmm?

Could you read this obit that I'm working on?

Sure. It's not like I'm trying to do anything important,

like beat Yusheng Du's world record!

Great.

Piper Ashford died? You knew her?

I follow her. Of course you did.

She thinks deforestation's super sadsies.

I think Al Gore said the same thing.

Huh. Huh.

I'm sensing some sarcasm there, huh?

I grew up with Piper.

She was a real butt-munch, but now, luckily,

I understand that she was, uh, just jealous.

"They're just jealous of you" is an empty platitude

that parents tell their kids to make them feel better.

I had 27 childhood bullies,

and they were all very well-adjusted.

Neat. Great. Can you please read this?

It's for the front page.

Hmm?

It's great. Really?

It's cold and dry.

It's like a list of bullet points

without any human emotion.

I connect strongly to it.

Awesome. Thanks.

Why is your door closed?

Oh, my God. Are you hiding?

You're hiding!

Is this about that basketball hoop?

Sit. What?

Let me tell you a story of a little boy...

...whose rugged good looks

were often compared to that of a young Denzel Washington.

Ooh. Yes.

One day, said boy happened upon some neighborhood youths

who were playing a game they called "street ball."

They invited him to join.

You know I-I know you're talking about you, right?

The boy was frightened. Oh.

After all, he had never thrown a ball before.

Like, ever?

There were no sports at the Hirsch Academy

for Performing Arts.

But his acting teacher often said,

"New life experiences become new acting experiences."

So the boy knew he had to try.

I have a meeting that starts at 2:00, so I should--

The boy grasped the ball in his hands,

aimed it towards the hoop, but when he threw it, somehow,

against the very laws of physics,

it went straight up, came down, smashed his glasses,

broke his nose, and at the sight of blood,

the boy threw up and fainted

right there on the basketball field.

It's technically called a court.

This is about more than just an office game.

Eventually, I'm gonna have a little kid, and they'll go,

"Daddy, you wanna shoot some hoops?"

And I'll have to say, "No, thank you.

Daddy's not very athletic."

And then my kid will laugh at me.

And I will literally dissolve into a puddle of shame.

Oh, my God. No, Dennis.

I'm so sorry.

I didn't realize how scary this is for you.

Hey. Hey!

Why's the door closed? Get in here.

Oh. Ooh.

Let me tell you the story of a little boy

who came upon some neighborhood youths.

Oh, okay, so this is a very long story.

It's okay. I'll fill her in later. Okay.

So, what is going on with the obit?

Oh, God, I'm having writer's block.

I mean, how am I supposed to write something nice

about a girl that used to call me "Nelly Fart-ado"?

Ah.

That's a good one.

I mean, I used to actually come up with nicknames

for people all the time in high school.

Like, there was this girl called Sarah.

I called her Betty.

How did you get Betty from Sarah?

She was always sweating all the time,

so we called her Sweaty Betty, and then it just became Betty.

That is extremely mean.

What? No! She loved it.

She laughed until she cried.

Oh. Hmm.

Was I... A bully?

Like, a bad one. Yes, definitely.

I need to atone for that sin.

Too bad you can't go back in time and not be a dick. Mm.

But I could help you get over your fear of basketball.

I'd rather have cash.

Then when I'm done with you, nobody is gonna call you

"Shaquille O'Squeal," "Larry Turd,"

"Tragic Johnson"-- Mama, no.

Do you hear yourself? Can you please stop, por favor?

It's too much.

Lexi on P. - Nell Serrano,

could you come see me in the conference room?

Nell Serrano to the conference room.

When did she install a P. A. system?

Last night.

Nell, I wanted to check in

on how the front-page obituary is coming.

It's, uh, going okay.

Yeah. A little slow, I guess.

Ever since you started, you have been begging me

for a seat at the dinner table. Mm...

Now here I am with a chair pulled out for you,

and you are off pooping in the guest house.

- Mason! - That's my name.

Whatchu need, baby girl?

How would you like to write a front-page obituary?

Yes.

Who's the subject? Hold on. One second.

Uh, you're giving him the assignment?

He's a freaking intern!

I was the editor of the paper at Dartmouth, you old crone.

Silence!

When I was a child, every night,

my father would tell my brothers and me

that he only had enough energy for one good night hug.

Whoever made the best case for it would win his prized embrace.

This explains so much.

People work better when they're in competition.

Therefore, both of you will write Piper's obituary,

and whoever does a better job will win the front page.

Think of it as though you're both competing for my hug.

Although I will never touch either of you.

Cricket: She turned it into a contest?

And now Mason's going to Piper's memorial,

so I have to go, too.

Ugh, and that stupid, negative voice in my head... Mm.

...is only gonna get louder.

You know what's great about getting older?

Hmm?

You have heard everything that those voices have to say,

and you just stop listening.

You know, my mom said that you shouldn't allow yourself

to become a pessimist. Piper: Oh, my God.

How could I have had faith in you? There are some beautiful things...

I thought you would pull this off.

You're a grown woman and you're taking advice from this lady?

...negativity is the enemy of creativity.

Why don't you tell your mom friend

that this negative voice inside your head is actually a ghost?

I'm sure she won't think you're psycho at all.

Because deep down, you know that you're a sad little loser

and now you can't even write one single obituary.

But you are a beautiful, kind, lovely person.

Face it, Nelly. You peaked in high school.

Would you just stop?!

I'm sorry. I was just--

I was just trying to help you.

Sorry.

No, I-I didn't-- I--

It's, uh-- It's not you. I...

I'll-- I'll see you later, okay?

♪

♪ It's about damn time ♪ Look at all the sponsors.

Aw, my very last Instagram post.

Oh, there's the photo ops, and there's the omelet bar.

You know, I curated all of this in my will.

Yeah, you mentioned that, like, seven times.

I better see if they set up the refection yurt.

Well, well, well.

Look what the cat threw up.

Why are you dressed like Tony Soprano?

Oh, don't be a hater 'cause you're jelly.

The front page is mine,

so you might as well go home, Grandma.

Ooh, churros!

♪ Mm ♪

♪ That's how I feel right now ♪

Cricket: Hey, is this seat taken?

♪ I'm way too fine to be this stressed, yeah ♪

Oh. Oh.

I knew this was the last place you wanted to be today.

So I decided to come give you some emotional support.

Thank you, Cricket.

My career might be ending,

but at least I got my friend with me.

Yes, you do.

♪ It's about damn time ♪

Okay. Alright. She is on there.

Now tell me-- What is the ultimate goal?

To play Jean Valjean on Broadway.

And to conquer your fear and make a basket. Yeah, mm-hmm.

I was gonna say that, but the first thing--

Aah!

Alright.

Now, you listen to me.

When I'm done with you, this entire newsroom

is gonna see you drain one from downtown.

I really like their costumes.

Focus!

In. Let's go!

Like a fish. Let's go.

What the was that?

Now take the shot, take the shot!

Close. Mm-hmm. And set.

Okay. ♪ This is the end ♪

Oh! Oh.

Very close.

Okay. We don't need to dribble.

You want to put your hands in the same position

as Mariah Carey doing a vocal run.

That I understand.

Okay. Okay.

♪ I need it all 'cause I am running over ♪

♪

I mean, we could just burn the entire building down.

Ah. Of course this is the most perfect funeral in history.

Oh.

I'm not so sure sponsorship is what makes a good funeral.

What the heck does she know?

She's probably still on Facebook.

If the Piper Posse were here,

they would have loved that sick burn.

Where are they?

If you ask me, it's-- it's kind of sad.

And not the way memorials are supposed to be sad.

Check that out.

When Monty died, everyone wanted

to make a speech about him.

Hm. I mean, it went on for hours.

Piper may have had four million followers,

but I'm guessing she didn't have a lot of friends.

I have friends.

I have tons of friends.

They're probably just parking.

You know what? Maybe you're right.

I mean, I-I don't think she had any real friends.

Not even the Piper Posse.

Are you high?

I rushed Delta Gamma with McCauley and McKendra.

Yeah, she ruled over those girls,

but it was only for their approval.

Not because they were friends.

Even before social media, Piper only had... followers.

Oh.

I can't believe I actually feel sorry for her.

Please.

♪

Huh. I'll be back.

Alright. What are you doing?

Where are you going?

Hello?

Excuse me, e--

Excuse me, everyone.

Hey. Hi.

Uh, I'm, uh, Nell Serrano.

I went to high school with Piper,

and it is a little odd that I'm the one up here

because she was my bully.

Piper: No, I was not!

You shut your ugly face, Fart-ado!

Uh, when I was young,

Piper seemed confident and popular,

but now I can see another side to her,

a side that was probably just as insecure as I was.

As much as we try to curate the way people see us...

no one knows what's really going on inside.

You know, we can't be reduced to a hashtag or a selfie,

because we're all so complicated.

Some of us spend our lives running from our fears

before gathering the courage to face them.

Some of us are still trying to fit in with the cool kids.

And some of us are trying to atone for the kid we used to be.

All those flattering filters on social media made

Piper seem like a perfect goddess,

but, uh, she had--

She had a negative voice in her head, too.

The funny thing about that mean and internal voice

is that it only hurts

when we start to believe it for ourselves.

That's why we need a kind and loving voice

that can tell that cruel voice to shut the hell up.

I really think that Piper deserved

to have a kind voice in her life

that told her that she was good enough,

even without all these sponsors.

So, wherever she is, I hope she has that voice now.

♪

#PiperGotHerWings.

Cricket: Yes! Whoo! Whoo!

Woman: Yes!

♪

Woman #2: Yes!

You don't have to do this, you know.

No, this is gonna keep happening to me.

I have to slay my dragons.

Okay.

But I just want you to know whether you make it or not

is not gonna make you a better friend or father or person,

because you are perfect exactly how you are.

Wow.

You've come a long way from the accidental bully

you were in high school. Thank you.

Yes. You're welcome.

And you know what?

You're right. I don't need this.

Let's go get donuts.

Yes! Can do that? Yes.

Please. Okay. Come on. Bah.

You made it! You made it! I made it!

Oh, my God!

Suck it, LeBrum Germs!

Whoever you are.

Whoever that is.

Well, Mason, good news.

You have officially joined the ranks

of everyone who has ever disappointed me.

Nell, you get the front page.

Your pathetic little victory means nothing

because my best days are ahead of me

and you've already peak-- Peaked?

Yeah. I've heard that one before.

It doesn't really bother me anymore.

Well, that's no fun.

Mm.

What a dingus.

You know he took five swag bags from my memorial?

By the way, I should probably tell you

that what you said about me was...

nice. Thank you.

So, uh, I guess this is goodbye.

I just have one more thing to tell you.

Oh?

You really put the "bitch" in "obituary."

Smell ya later, Fart-ado.

Smell ya later, Piper.

Mm-mm-mm. Look at you.

You got your obituary on the front page.

Girl, I'm proud.

No, it really is well done.

I'm not crazy about the headline, though.

"Dope Influencer Piper Ashford Totes Dead."

That was, um, Lexi, uh,

saying she wanted to be "down with the kids."

Wait, her name was Piper Ashford? Cricket: Mm. Mm.

Please tell me you called her "Pooper Ass-Turd."

Where were you 20 years ago?

I wasn't born. Okay.

Thank you. Oh!

Okay. Thanks. Okay?