Original subtitles

My name is Velma Dinkley.

And this is my origin story.

Sure, normally, origin stories are about tall, handsome guys

struggling with the burden

of being handed even more power.

And if they are about girls,

it's usually like,

"Hey, what made this hot chick go crazy?"

So, to remedy this,

I've decided to finally share...

...the bone-chilling events

that drove me to assemble

the greatest team of spooky mystery solvers ever.

Yeah, it was me.

Not Fred and his weird sex van.

This is my story, told my way.

And it starts with a murder, bitch.

Brenda?

Ugh.

This school sucks.

Oh, hey.

Team shower discussion topic of the day.

Have you ever noticed how pilot episodes of TV shows

always have more gratuitous sex and nudity

than the rest of the series?

- Oh, my God, I have. - So true.

That's how we learned what Rachel Brosnahan's boobs look like.

And Don Cheadle's butt.

Well, I, for one, think it's lame.

- Agreed. - So lame.

The lamest.

Oh, I actually kind of love it.

Sex sells.

And in today's overcrowded market,

you need a hook.

Um, the only hook a good show ever needs

is good storytelling.

Then why was your favorite part of the Riverdale pilot

when Betty and Veronica kissed?

Well, because it was instantly called out

as tired in the scene.

No. It's because it was hot.

You can have it both ways.

No, you can't.

Just admit we are all secretly perverts.

Never!

And how do you feel about race-blind casting, Daphne?

Well, as an Asian woman,

I, um, think it's cool.

I mean, not to oversimplify a thorny issue,

but everyone loves it when white people play Jesus or a professional boxer.

Why can't it ever go the other way, right?

Uh, yes.

I wasn't expecting such an enlightened answer

from such a bitch.

Velma?

What the hell? You almost killed me.

Guess I didn't try hard enough.

See? Now, if this was a show,

it'd be super hot if you two kissed.

Krista, if this was a show,

you'd be killed off for being horny.

Brenda?

Wait, did you climb in my locker to prove how skinny you are again?

Ugh. We get it.

She has no brain!

I am not dissing her. She has no brain.

Hello?

Anybody? I know my rights.

I get a phone call and a handsome detective

I infuriate with my indifference.

Who killed Brenda, Velma?

You're not real, you're not real.

Who isn't real, sweetie?

Uh, God's not real if you two morons are running this investigation.

Oh, how we've missed that sense of humor, girl.

Seriously. How long has it been since Daphne had you over to our house?

Uh, since my mom went missing.

Two years ago.

Oh, right. That.

Oh, my God. You totally forgot.

No, we didn't.

Every day, we're closer to finding Doodad.

Diya. Her name is Diya.

You know what? We're done here. Peace.

Unfortunately, we're not done here, Velma.

You're a suspect in Brenda's murder. Now sit.

I'm a suspect?

I thought lesbians were good at solving crimes.

It's like the one positive stereotype perpetuated by cop shows.

Velma, she was found in your locker

and you were lurking around the showers

like a gym teacher who isn't a gym teacher anymore.

Clearly, someone's trying to frame me.

And I wasn't lurking.

I was waiting to shower alone.

Because of your weight?

What? No.

Because of your handsome face?

My face is fine.

Because of your hairy gorilla arm?

No, because I hate your stupid adopted daughter and her fake-ass friends.

And yet you and Daphne used to be best friends. Isn't that right?

Yeah, until Daphne got hot and ditched me

to hang out with Brenda and the other popular girls

at Spooner's Malt Shop.

I could kill them all.

Okay, I see how this looks bad.

Look, we know you couldn't kill Brenda, sweetie,

but we also know we're not, like, the best detectives.

So the only way we're going to convince the sheriff you're innocent

is if you help us find Brenda's actual murderer.

Help you find Brenda's murderer?

But that's a mystery.

And I don't solve mysteries.

Not anymore.

Then you're screwed.

You've got 24 hours and then we arrest you.

But still, so good seeing you.

We miss you.

Say hi to your father and Doodad.

Diya!

Hey! Watch where you're going, jerk.

Oh. Hey, Fred.

- Do I know you? - It's Velma, from school.

You cheat off me in Spanish because you think I'm Mexican.

Maybe.

I have a disease where I can't recognize people who aren't hot.

My doctor says it's basically sickle cell for rich guys.

Is it called rudeness?

It is. You're like, smart.

Oh, wow. Thank you.

Yeah, not a compliment.

Anyway, have you seen Daphne?

- She texted... - Oh, Fred.

Thank God you're here.

- Whoa! - Brenda's...

Into me. No, I know.

I'm caliente, as this one's people would say.

No. Brenda's dead.

What? No!

She was my plan B if you ever got too clingy.

What happened?

- Ask Velma. - Who?

Me, Fred. We were just...

Forget it.

Mm.

Not now, Daph. Geez.

Then when, Fred? When?

And just FYI, I didn't kill Brenda.

And how are you going to prove that, Velma?

You don't solve mysteries anymore.

You're not real. You're not real.

Seriously, who is this weirdo?

Did your moms, like, adopt another kid?

Dad! You can't just eat soggy fries from the takeout container.

You have to crisp them in the oven first.

I saw you eat a fry out of the vacuum cleaner last week, so spare me.

- I've had a long day. - You've had a long day?

I was accused of a murder I didn't commit.

And whose fault is that?

Excuse me?

Don't you raise your eyebrows at me, Steve Harvey.

You know exactly what I'm talking about.

Fine.

Velma, I love you.

But I'm a lawyer, so trust me when I say this.

People only think you murdered Brenda because you...

Were voted "Most Revenge-y" in the school yearbook. I know.

Oh, those yearbook guys have no idea what's coming to them.

No, because you're a weirdo.

Ever since your mother disappeared,

you haven't even tried to hang out with the normal kids

at Spooner's Malt Shop.

Maybe I'd hang out there more

if you hadn't knocked up a Spooner's waitress

while your actual wife is still missing.

Velma, that's not fair!

I'm not just a waitress. I'm also...

A basic bitch who doesn't even know how to use hashtags?

No, I'm also, hashtag, the owner of Spooner's.

Oh! The baby's kicking hashtag.

Hashtag, get my new camera out of my bag, Aman.

You got an actual camera?

With what money?

Dad says we can't even afford to buy me a second sweater.

Oh, God!

I know, but it's about priorities.

You need a real camera

to capture real, unmanufactured moments.

Well, I have to go prepare myself for prison.

Not that you care.

Velma, real talk, shero to shero.

People only think you're a murderer

because you're a creepy loser.

But that will change tonight,

when you become a glamorous waitress at Spooner's Malt Shop.

That was Brenda's favorite song.

And yeah, normally in pop culture, when a slutty girl is murdered,

we're all a little like, "Well, maybe she deserved it."

But that is what made Brenda so special.

She was the rare slut that did not deserve to be murdered.

Thank you, Krista.

That was beautiful.

But Brenda wasn't just a rare slut.

She was a rare friend.

In fact, she was such a rare friend,

she made my previous so-called best friend look like a piece of crap.

Especially now that I know she's the main suspect in Brenda's murder.

Daphne, sweetie, that was private.

Bump this noise.

Nope.

Ugh.

Hello?

You're not real.

You're not real.

You're not real.

I am real! A real man, Father!

Who are you?

If I tell you, will you remember?

I have an illness!

What are you doing out here, Fred?

I guess since you're a stranger I'll never see again, I can tell you.

I'm trying to pull myself together

so I can be the man my father expects me to be.

Zam! DILF city.

- Sorry. Continue. - No, I get it.

And I want to be as manly as him.

But since Brenda died, I can't stop crying like a total puss.

Hey, hey. It's okay. I get it.

I have this whole thing with my mom.

Did she put her cigars out on you?

Uh, no.

My mom smoked cigarettes.

Figuring that out was the first mystery I ever solved.

Oh, shit. Hi, sweetie.

Oh.

See, my mother wrote mysteries.

Hmm.

And from that day on,

she gave me little mysteries to solve

while she worked and smoked.

Like the case of the missing idea juice.

But eventually,

I grew bold, and sought mysteries of my own.

But instead of feeling excited I found my Christmas presents,

I felt terrible.

I'd ruined Christmas.

But still, my mom felt so bad for me,

she ran out to buy something I could unwrap

Christmas morning.

That was the last time I ever saw her.

Hey, don't forget to buy yourself something from me.

That night, the police found my mom's car

abandoned and empty, except for her glasses,

and a single wrapped gift for me.

So I put on my mom's glasses

and vowed I wouldn't open her gift

until I found her.

But I felt so guilty

that it was my mystery solving

that had caused her to go missing,

I started having horrifying hallucinations.

This is all your fault, Velma.

Why did you have to go and solve your own mystery?

Now, when I try to solve a mystery,

my guilt triggers a potentially heart-stopping hallucination.

Could exercising and eating less fried food help?

We'll never know.

Wow. After hearing that,

I not only feel emotionally hooked,

I understand the stakes of your journey, Velma.

You remembered my name.

Huh? That's never happened to me before.

Fred! Watch out!

You're right! If anyone ever saw me talking to you, I'd die of shame.

Velma!

There you are!

Norville? What the hell?

You didn't answer my VMs. Voice mails.

And then my dad heard me call you the B word,

so I lost my phone for 24 hours.

But I had to find you

because I still didn't know if you'd listened to my VMs,

voice mails, let alone responded. Did you?

Yes. And I don't want to do our math homework together.

Just email me your answers like always.

Yes, of course.

Though I left you some other VMs, voice...

I know what VMs are! Get to the point.

I already did.

- In my VMs. - Ugh.

Velma,

it's Norville. From math.

I know who killed Brenda.

Oh, my God. Who?

I left you six more VMs.

So I guess what I'm saying is, I don't know who killed Brenda.

Damn it, Norville, you're wasting my time.

If I can't convince people I didn't kill Brenda by tomorrow,

I'm going to be arrested.

I know, But I also know how to find out

who did kill Brenda.

Have you ever wondered why Spooner's,

a boring malt shop owned by a woman with a "breathe" tattoo,

is the coolest spot in Crystal Cove?

Only every day of my life.

On TV shows,

the malt shop owner is always a friendly Black man,

or a spicy meatball Italian.

So you're like, "Oh, the kids come here for the folksy wisdom."

But Sophie has no wisdom.

Just a lot of T-shirts with puns about wine.

Exactly. I think it has something to do with drugs.

Which I hate.

So, I had one of my reporters on the school newspaper investigate Spooner's.

Guess which one.

Uh, Dorkus McNoFriends?

Well, Dorkus was actually busy.

So I gave Brenda my camera

to photograph anything suspicious there.

And she said she got a picture of something weird in the bathroom,

but didn't say what.

Wait. So you think...

No, I know Brenda was murdered to keep that photograph from getting out.

Holy crap.

Sophie just got a new camera, which I know we can't afford.

Hashtag, get my new camera out of my bag, Aman.

But what if she didn't buy it?

What if she took it from Brenda after killing her,

to protect the secret of Spooner's popularity?

If I can find your camera on Sophie,

I'd solve Brenda's murder and send Sophie to jail.

It's a win-win.

Or maybe we could find the camera together?

Together? Oh.

- Hmm. - Oh, yeah. Just because it's mine.

But also your hallucinations. I could maybe help?

Oh, Okay. Phew.

I thought you were, like, suggesting a date.

A date? You wish.

A date. What?

Holy mother of God.

Yes, it's true.

Sophie photographs babies dressed up as vegetables.

It's our dirty little secret.

But that's how she afforded the new camera.

Okay, but if this isn't Norville's camera,

who killed Brenda?

Oh, no! The camera!

Is someone trying to solve a mystery?

No. I was just asking a question.

Heart attack.

Velma, what is this?

Did you eat all the gummy vitamins again?

Damn it, Aman. Can't you see that she's trying to solve a mystery?

There you go.

Get it all out.

Yep. Okay. Oh, boy.

Still more.

I'm sorry.

I thought you killed Brenda because she figured out

the secret to your diner's popularity.

I get that.

But there isn't any secret to it.

Just good food, great tunes.

And I let teens have sex in the bathroom.

And I'm sorry I didn't believe you about your hallucinations.

But, Velma, I told you this.

Your mother didn't go missing because you solved a mystery.

She left us.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la. No, she didn't.

Something bad happened to her, and it's my fault.

Because if Mom just left us, it means she didn't love us.

Which is insane. Sure, you were a huge jerk, Dad, but I was...

Oh, my eye!

My book!

My idea juice!

Oh, God.

Mom wasn't taken.

She left because she hated us.

Yes.

So you can stop feeling guilty about your mysteries, beti.

And you can start changing your personality to fit in and avoid prison.

Whoo-hoo!

What? Too soon?

No.

No, you're right.

It's time to stop feeling guilty and move on.

Wow. Are you an exchange student

from a more sexually liberated country?

No, it's Velma.

I'm just unburdened by the belief

I caused my mother to go missing.

Well, now that you're not a total dog,

do you want to hang out at Spooner's Malt Shop later?

Yes.

Because I'm just a normal, well-adjusted teen now.

Like all of you.

She is.

My opinion's changed.

Velma, do you like playing cards?

Because I'm calling bullshit.

This outfit is clearly just a ploy

to make us think you're not

a brain-removing serial killer anymore.

Uh, no, it's not.

Enough!

My fellow populars, yes.

Underneath this banging new look,

Velma is still the fashionably challenged loser

we depend on for group projects.

But last night, we spoke.

And yes, while it was awful,

I learned this is not a creature capable of murder. Nay.

It is just a scared little boy who wants our friendship.

Perfect.

Well, well, well.

Well, well, well.

- Well, well, well. - Look, whatever this is, can you just get to it?

Class is starting.

I have a whole speech.

Fine. I'll just skip to the main part.

Well, guess what, Velma?

If you want my boyfriend, you can have him.

Boyfriend? You think I want Fred?

I mean, sure, if someone was, like,

"Want to see a naked picture of Fred?"

I'd be like, "Hubba hubba!"

But I'd say that about anyone.

LeBron, Helen Mirren, a mummy.

- Fred? Naked? - Hilarious.

We've been dating for a year, and he still won't even take his pants off.

A year?

- He gay? - I haven't heard that rumor.

I have heard rumors about other people.

Yeah, we've all heard those rumors.

Anyway, Fred's so self-conscious about his body,

he kicks everyone out of the bathroom at Spooner's Malt Shop

when he has to use it.

So have fun with that.

Wait. The bathroom at Spooner's Malt Shop?

Oh, my God.

Norville!

Hey, I was rethinking

our friendship this morning, and maybe it's healthy if I...

No time! Drive me to Fred's house!

I'll get my windbreaker.

Why would Fred kill Brenda

just because she photographed him in the bathroom?

Why wouldn't he?

If I were a rich white dude,

I'd kill everybody just to get away with it.

But won't looking for my camera trigger your potentially fatal hallucinations?

Though "Saving Friend from Death"

would make for a great college essay.

My hallucinations have stopped.

Once I realized solving mysteries

didn't cause my mom to go missing,

I no longer felt the guilt that triggered them.

Okay, but have you given any thought

to all the other ways you could die trying to solve a mystery?

Crushed by a revolving bookcase?

Attacked by bats.

Falling off a fence.

Stop. I'll be fine.

Ahh!

Velma, did you fall?

No, I'm cool and graceful like a swan.

Okay, 'cause it really sounded like you fell.

What?

I'm bored.

Norville! Get off my jock and let me solve this mystery.

Oh. God, I'm starting to hallucinate.

You just said those were over.

Well, I guess I needed more than three minutes online

to make a mental health diagnosis, didn't I?

Oh.

Wait. This isn't so bad.

No, it's not bad, Velma.

But it's going to be!

Help me, Norville!

Velma! Velma! Can you hear me?

Just remember, these hallucinations are only in your head,

so focus on what I'm saying.

Velma!

Velma.

You're not saying anything.

I know! I'm, uh, kind of drawing a blank right now.

Have you seen any good movies lately?

Oh, God. Here comes the big one.

Stop! You can't die.

Why? I'm weird and no one likes me.

That's not true.

I like you.

Like, like like you.

- Wait, what? - Velma.

No, you don't.

You're like a brother to me. That's hilarious.

Wait. Norville.

Your joke worked, you genius.

- Keep making me laugh. - I wasn't joking.

Your face is why I get up in the morning.

That's perfect. One more time should do it.

Make it super cringy.

You're the main character in all my dreams.

Okay, stop. I'm peeing. I'm peeing.

Norville, it worked.

Who knew you were so funny?

Yes, it's hilarious. I'm the funniest man alive.

This is not what I need right now.

Bingo.

Well.

These are just Krista hooking up with...

Damn, Krista. Get it.

But why does Fred have the camera?

Because Velma,

Brenda also photographed this.

Wait. Your secret is you're hairless?

Uh, if I was hairless,

I'd literally wear a bikini to school every day.

Not hairless, Velma.

I haven't finished going through puberty yet.

I'm a late bloomer.

How else are my features so boyishly delicate?

But Father says, if people know,

they'll laugh, and never respect me

as the man and unquestioned leader

that I am meant to be.

So we keep the secret hidden away

to avoid embarrassment.

Which is why Brenda, and her stupid camera

left me no choice but the unthinkable.

Oh, no.

It's okay.

I'm just gonna to do to you what I did to Brenda.

What the hell?

You saved my life.

You're not terrible cops, after all.

They assumed you were a package thief.

It worked out, didn't it?

Okay. Well, I proved my innocence.

Can I go?

I'd like to wash Fred's leg blood out of my mouth.

Yeah, sweetie, you're free to go.

But we're taking credit for the arrest.

Linda lost her taser on a loop-de-loop roller-coaster last week,

so, uh, we need a win.

Wait. You think I killed Brenda?

You just said

you were going to do to me what you did to her.

I meant pay you to keep quiet.

I'm innocent.

I'm too much of a puss to kill someone.

I'd laugh, Fred.

If I wasn't standing next to this secret comedian over here.

Man, if I found humor attractive,

I would be all over you right now.

Oh, well.

Hey, so if you no longer feel guilty for your mom's disappearance,

why do you think you hallucinated?

The rules feel a bit muddy.

Muddy?

Oh, sorry I'm not a drunk on the verge of losing custody,

like every other woman solving murders these days.

Clearly I hallucinated because I do still feel guilty.

As annoying as I was,

in my heart,

I know my mom loves me too much to have left.

It was my mystery solving that caused her disappearance.

But after catching Fred, I'm back, baby.

I'm gonna find my mom, or die trying.

Yuck! That is one mystery I don't want to solve.

Right?

Uh...

Velma,

you should see this.

Oh, God! Krista!

And she also has no brain!