Original subtitles

Back in the '80s, no one had

more romantic moments than Erica and Geoff,

from their courtship to their magical wedding.

But since the birth of their baby,

the magic had taken a few hits,

and my sister was hoping to inject a

little passion back into their lives.

Boy, that "Hush, Little Baby" lullaby is so weird.

Like, why would you buy an infant a diamond ring?

What's all this?

What does it look like, handsome?

Sultry music, scented candles, dimmed lights.

I'd say someone was either hoping for a romantic evening

or planning on running a

fortune-telling parlor out of our room.

It's the first thing.

Tomorrow's our anniversary, and I want to celebrate early.

- Champagne? - Whoa, you are as bubbly as this Brut.

Ooh, there goes my nose tickle.

Even your dumb talking can't ruin this.

Get over here.

Hey, you two, I made you a special surprise for your anniversary.

- Can it wait? - It cannot.

I call it "trout chili," and it will not keep.

We don't want that right now.

Well, I'll just leave all 32 quarts outside your door.

Ugh, I smell fish and peppers.

Well, just hold your nose and let's get back to business.

Erica, solve a bet for us.

Barry says he can jump to the tree outside our bedroom,

but I think he's gonna die.

Impossible! I have the explosive thighs of a kangaroo.

Tell him, Erica.

- Tell him how special my body is. - For sure, go for it!

Wait, but that would kill Barry and the mood.

But for the few minutes while the ambulance is en route,

- we can get down. - Yeah.

Hey, where do you keep the plunger?

I don't know. Maybe ask anyone else?

It's kind of an emergency. I already threw away my shoes.

We can't help you. No one with any dignity can.

Oh, God! Who now?

It's your friendly neighbor, John Glascott. Do you have a moment?

We most certainly don't!

I'm just here to beseech you to close your curtains.

I noticed that you set the stage for a boudoir dalliance,

and I can see everything.

I guess my first recommendation

would be to close your curtains.

I have delicate Venetian blinds.

You would know that if you ever accepted

any of my multiple invitations for coffee and Battleship.

Erica! Barry's hurt, and not in a funny way.

In a "he's weirdly quiet" way.

All right, I solved it by snapping a towel at it,

so, uh, you're welcome.

Guess what I brought? Chili spoons.

Why waste all these beans and mackerel?

Are they seriously just gonna eat in

the hallway, right outside our door?

Oh, whatever.

And there's the baby.

Happy anniversary, buddy.

- Oh, that's good. - Mm.

? I'm twisted up inside ?

? But nonetheless I feel the need to say ?

- Synced and corrected by actumaxime - - www.addic7ed.com -

? I don't know the future ?

? But the past keeps getting Clearer every day ?

It was March 22, 1980-something,

and Barry and Joanne had finally found a place

to move into,

Pop-Pop's old apartment.

Bathroom, uh, room...

um, stove you could burn your trash on.

And here's the dying room.

- Do you mean the dining room? - Oh, sure.

That's probably what you guys will use it for.

This place is awesome.

There are support bars in the shower,

so I can do my tricep dips while I wash off the sweat.

Yeah, it certainly has your personality, Pop-Pop.

Uh, Barry, who's this broad you're shacking up with, again?

I'm Joanne.

I've been dating your grandson for over a year now.

I gave you my bone marrow.

Why am I helping them move?

My arms are built for Nintendo, not whatever you call this.

- Manual labor? - Come on, I'll show you the back alley

where you can throw your grapefruit rinds and cigar butts.

Where should I put Barry's throwing stars

- and private dream diaries, Mama? - Uh, the closet?

And in that closet,

I was about to discover more than

my grandpa's moth-eaten sweaters...

a moth-eaten manuscript.

"Invasion from Cosmic City" by BL Goldberg!

Thirty pages of an

unpublished science-fiction manuscript

written by my grandfather.

Pop-Pop is a nerd!

- Hey, who told you you could read that? - Sorry.

I'm just so excited to find out that you're...

- just like me! - An oddball? Ah, no way.

And yet you are.

It's like Pops taught me how to be kind and be a man,

and you and I share something almost as important...

made-up aliens and jetpacks.

You learned squat from me.

And I'll prove it. Look at that.

A rejection letter?

Ah, those bastards crushed my dreams,

but I showed 'em.

I gave up writing, and every single morning,

I re... read that letter.

Why would you do that?

To recharge my hatred and distrust for the world

so that nobody can ever hurt me like that again.

How is that showing them?

They thought they'd beaten down BL Goldberg,

but my relentless anger will never die.

Ha! Ben wins.

While I learned my grouchy

grandpa and I were sort of similar,

Geoff and Erica had learned

how hard it was to get time to themselves.

A good morning to all creatures,

both jacked and puny.

Why are you so happy?

And, Geoff, where's my toast?

I'm not a wizard, Erica.

I can't make the toaster toast faster.

Hey, I sense an un-chillness in the air,

when I, in fact, demand a fully formed chillness.

Mm. It's those two, babe. They did this to the air.

Why are you guys even here?

We realized that when you move into your own place,

your parents don't buy food for you anymore.

So, we're eliminating the middle man and stocking up.

Is the middle man the supermarket,

where you'd buy your own food?

Bingo! It's the only downside about our new place.

It's been like a second honeymoon for us.

- You guys aren't married. - Then a first honeymoon.

You guys aren't married.

Barry, don't flaunt the fact that our relationship

has gone to a new level in their faces.

- It really has. - Mm-hmm.

I mean, that apartment is like a cocoon

tucked away from all the disturbances of this house

to make space for our passion.

Or, as The B-52s would call it,

a love shack.

And from now on, not just that song,

but all music is ruined forever.

Don't deny something that's perfectly natural, Geoff.

Every night and every day,

your sister and I stuff ourselves at the buffet of love.

Just let the toast burn. Let the whole place burn.

- We can't be here any longer. - Come on.

The most important thing in a relationship

is to make time for each other.

We tried that, but this house is a zoo,

and the animals are my family.

Yes, it's well-established, we're the worst.

Wait a minute. Babe, are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Five. No. Twelve.

It's not a number, it's the Secunda Hotel.

- Of course. - Uh-huh.

Joanne just helped the concierge work out a few legal issues,

and he gifted us a free night.

And we'd like to re-gift it to you guys for your anniversary.

What? That's so nice of you.

Our lives are going so well, dear sister.

We must spread our joy to the less fortunate.

- Is it seven? - Yes.

- Aah! - Aah!

- Grab the bagels. - Okay.

With that, Erica and Geoff tried again

to reboot their fire for each

other with a romantic hotel getaway.

Coming, my sexy wife!

I think you're really gonna like the accommodat...

Sorry I'm late. I had to swing home.

Oh, uh, I see that, but why did you bring our daughter?

Don't get me wrong, big fan.

I just couldn't leave her.

Well, she is the best.

Aren't you?

Look how amazing this room is.

Ooh, and how comfy that bed looks.

It does, doesn't it? Doesn't it?

Here's a thought.

Why don't you put down our girl,

and I'm gonna take a quick catnap on this bad boy,

and then you and I, mister,

are gonna get on the train to Sexy Town.

Well, punch my ticket, 'cause I'm all aboard. Choo-choo!

Uh, babe?

Fun.

As Erica and Geoff's getaway hit a snag,

I was stuck on the idea

that Pop-Pop and I shared the same interests.

What's the matter, light of my loins?

You haven't touched your Boo Berry.

I just can't get over it.

Pop-Pop loves sci-fi, too.

I just wish he would talk about it.

Well, I guess your Pop-Pop couldn't

handle that publisher's rejection.

My whole life has been people making fun of me and bullying me,

but I don't run away.

Unless the bully is an above-average-size person,

or an average-size person,

or a tiny-but-aggressive person.

You never know what those people will do.

Remember, Schmoo, Pop-Pop didn't have something

that the Goldberg kids were blessed with.

- A diet of oddly cheesed meats? - Me.

He had to face his defeats with no support system.

Maybe you can connect with Pop-Pop by encouraging him.

But I can't do what you do,

especially not for someone as defensive and awful as Pop-Pop.

I am the greatest ego booster in the history of mankind,

and I can teach you.

Now, you read the sample pages from Pop-Pop's book.

What did you think about them?

They were okay.

Okay or good?

I guess he showed some promise.

Then that's what you seize on.

You have to BEV.

- BEV? - You build their confidence,

enable their self-delusions,

and value them over every other person on earth.

Now, you said Pop-Pop's writing showed some promise.

Instead, why not say

he's the greatest imagineer the world has ever seen?

- But that isn't true. - Well, who cares about true?

You're helping someone get over their fear.

Now, pretend I'm Pop-Pop. Go.

Um, Pop-Pop, the beginning of this book was... fun.

Wrong! It wasn't fun.

It was the greatest literary

thrill ride the world has ever seen.

Seems a bit over the top.

Now, what does Pop-Pop love even more than science fiction?

Sticking it to people?

Which brings us to "V," value him over other people.

"Pop-Pop, your writing isn't just good,

it makes Hemingway look like an illiterate boob."

You're saying lie to him about how great he is

in order to create a false state of confidence,

like you do with Barry.

Um, yeah, yeah, like I do with Barry...

and no other child.

- Right. - Just Barry.

- Just Barry. - Just Barry.

It's weird how you keep saying Barry.

Only Barry.

And so, armed with my

mom's confidence-bolstering scheme,

I approached my grandfather.

- What you up to there, Pop-Pop? - The obituaries.

I outlived Mervin Silver.

Tell me I'm cheating at bocce now.

Fun! So, listen.

- I was thinking about your sci-fi novel. - I don't want to talk about it.

Those pages, they don't just show promise,

they may be the greatest examples

of science-fiction writing since Asimov.

You think I'm supposed to hop to my feet and act like a big shot

because my dopey grandson's blowing smoke up my keister?

I just thought you'd want to stick it

in that publisher's face.

How would I do that?

First, you'd have to finish the book

and show them how fantastic it could be.

Then, when the whole world holds you aloft

as the best science-fiction writer of all time...

Yeah, yeah, yeah?

... you'd send them the reviews with a big note in red marker

that says, "You blew it, loser!"

With a few horrible things about his wife.

Yoo-hoo, wouldn't that be something?

Y... Y... You really think I'm good?

I think you've got it all!

You mean I have pizzazz?

Pizz and azz all over the place.

What? Me? Think of that.

While I was lifting my grandpa to the clouds,

Erica was just crashing down to Earth from dreamland.

Oh, man.

Mama needed that catnap real bad.

All right. Well, sexy time. Let's do this.

- Nope. - What do you mean, "Nope"?

It's showtime. Romance. Come on.

- Uh-uh. - Oh, playing hard to get?

Pretty boy needs to be wined and dined, huh?

Well, what do you say we order some room service,

pop in a Sade cassette, light some candles, and...

Why is it daytime?

- You've been asleep for 14 hours. - What? No!

During our romantic getaway,

I was up all night with Muriel

while my wife was snoozing like the dead.

No, no, no, no, no. Come on, baby.

We still have time, don't we?

Housekeeping!

We just need four minutes!

You're already a late checkout, ma'am.

Okay, three minutes. Lock Muriel in

the bathroom and let's get going, Geoff.

No. You know I can't perform when you put a clock on me.

Remember that time at the Wawa, when I was supposed to pick a

candy bar because they were closing,

and I left with a Chunky with raisins?

Who's that for?

Oh, fine! We're coming!

At least steal all the towels, Geoff.

My mom's plan to instill Pop-Pop

with a writer's confidence had gone swimmingly.

Nice hat, Pop-Pop.

Oh, this ain't no hat. It's a fedora.

Ooh, like Paula Abdul wears.

- So the writing's going okay? - Big time.

Plus, I looked up that guy who sent me the rejection letter.

It turns out he's dead.

And his wife died 20 years before him,

so he's been completely alone all those years.

- That's incredibly sad. - You bet.

Oh, I know I don't say this often enough,

Adam, but, uh, you're my grandson.

Thank you for that basic acknowledgement.

So, when can I have a look at this masterpiece?

Oh, you mean show it to people? Uh, I'm not sure.

You know, I just started a writers' group recently.

Writers' group?

Yeah, it's just a few literary-minded

folks from the neighborhood.

We meet up to offer each other

encouragement and constructive criticism.

If I don't share my gift with these

schmucks, it'd be, uh, selfish, no?

Well, that's not really the spirit of the group, but...

Uh, my book will be a welcome treat

to the dreck that these losers would write.

Again, I'm in the group.

And, uh, thanks again... grandson.

That's what I always was to you.

But glad you're up for it!

- I was BEVing like a pro. - Yes!

Meanwhile, my sister and Geoff stopped by Barry

and Joanne's to steal back some groceries.

I'm sorry. It's just, we never get any time together alone.

- That's because we never actually are. - Exactly.

Why can't we just get one second where it's just the two of us?

Which was precisely where they found themselves.

Barry's in class all day.

And Joanne's in court.

Sure, it was their siblings' home,

but all that mattered was that Erica and Geoff were alone.

Meanwhile, my writers' group had filled our empty pages with words.

"Madam President says,

'For a Secret Service agent, you talk too much.

'Now, put down that bazooka and kiss me.'"

- Oh! - Wow.

Super fun, Mr. Glascott. Loved it.

Thank you, Matt Bradley.

It felt good to get it down to a lean 207 pages.

Okay, who's next?

Ooh, I am.

Uh, now, my prior greeting card poems

have focused only on Christmas,

but I'm expanding my horizons.

So this one's about Advent Sunday.

Instead of boring these folks with Jesus or whoever,

why don't we give them a real adventure story?

Pop-Pop, we keep it democratic

by randomly selecting the order.

No, it's fine, Adam. I'll just wait a few more agonizing moments

wondering if I'm good enough.

Go ahead, Ben.

"It was hour one of the invasion."

And so, Pop-Pop gave us a taste of his latest work.

But what BL Goldberg cooked up

wasn't a new sci-fi masterpiece.

Nope, turns out my grandpa

just wrote a super-graphic alien sex romp.

Well, that was spectacular. Hmm?

- It's interesting. - So interesting.

I concur on the interesting.

Well, I have a question.

- Why was it so filthy? - Filthy?

You know, all the very explicit and unrelenting sexual imagery.

Well, aliens, they really get after it.

It seems they do nothing else.

Is Earth just one big bed to them?

Well, it's a foxy planet. You gotta admit it.

See, our sun cooks their loins and puts them into a frenzy.

No, no, no. I remember those 30 pages,

but the plot just seems to fall away.

What happened to the astronauts from the beginning?

They died from Bazoomba-Boomba.

And Bazoomba-Boomba is?

- Rigorous Martian love. - Mm.

Our carbon-based bodies couldn't take the friction.

- Interesting. - So interesting.

I love how interesting it is.

Oh, I see what this is. This is a hit job.

We're just asking questions.

Questions like why and how and who wants to hear about

"a green-skinned broad with a skirt so

short you can use it as an eyepatch"?

I actually liked that part.

All right, all right. You want to dig in, huh?

Your thing about this guy that works

in the dungaree shop is idiotic!

The only thing he thinks about is folding jeans.

It's a metaphor for control in a chaotic universe.

And your story about this middle-aged broad

that flirts with the young man in your writers' group

and works at the Gap is clearly about you and this one.

I wondered why Brad Mattley sounded so familiar.

- No. - And your action picture? It's boring.

As in "boring into your skull with excitement"?

- As in crappy. - Pop-Pop, please stop.

And you're the worst of all.

You lied to me, told me how good I was

so these jerks could take their cheap shots at me? Thanks a lot.

Well, who wants to get a drink to clear their heads?

Just you, Matt?

While Pop-Pop was feeling like I had betrayed him,

Erica and Geoff were finding any excuse they could

to continue their secret tryst.

And I mean any excuse.

Pop-Pop wants his baby teeth from the apartment?

Sure. Why not?

You both simultaneously got jury duty?

- Guilty. - Guilty.

- Say no more. Bye! - Bye!

A couple's dentist appointment?

Hmm. Sounds fun.

This was a perfect plan.

Oh, my God!

They've returned to their own home for some reason!

I'm gonna get caught with my wife!

You know, it's funny, but I feel like,

today, I became a parent.

Definitely better than Erica and Geoff.

After all, Muriel crawled for the first time, to you.

- What? - Aah!

What the crap are you doing in here?

Not important. Did you just say that Muriel crawled to Barry?

Why are you wearing our sheets?

We missed the first time our daughter crawled?

She sure did.

To me, of all people.

Why is your hair all mussy? Were you break dancing?

Uh, y... yes?

Totally. Just poppin' and lockin'.

Wait a minute. Have you two been getting busy in our bed?

In fairness, it was rarely in the bed.

- I can't believe this happened. - This is your fault.

What? It's yours!

You're too damn beautiful. I can't resist.

You're the hot one.

Toned and muscly and sensuous, all in one.

I never feel as safe as when I'm in your arms.

Your magazine-cover good looks make

me feel like I'm capable of anything.

What is happening?

They hate how attracted they are to each other.

- All right, let's all calm down. - Whew.

Neither of you are as physically appealing as me and Joanne.

We were so selfish,

we missed one of the greatest moments of Muriel's life.

I guess we're just gonna have to focus on being parents

and give up on being a couple.

So, how was your couple's dentist appointment?

Thanks to me, Pop-Pop

shared his writing with the world.

The world did not share his enthusiasm.

Bev, I shall be eating downstairs,

as I see no one here I care to eat with.

Ben, stop.

You can't go the rest of your life not talking to Adam.

You underestimate my spite muscles.

The truth is, I'm the one who pushed Adam into this.

I thought you two having something

in common would bring you together,

and I'm the one who suggested

he bend the truth about your work.

A-ha! So it was all lies!

Well, both of you successfully made a jackass of me.

Okay, well, you're not the only one because, Adam,

I occasionally lied to you, too.

Lied to me? About what?

Sweetheart, I've been telling you

you are a film-making genius since you were eight years old.

Did it ever occur to you I might be

stretching the truth a little bit?

What are you talking about?

I'm a prodigy.

Every one of your friends said so through gritted smiles.

Let's be honest.

Everything you did couldn't have been the home run I said it was.

Are you telling me I'm not a genius

whose words have been translated

into 400 different languages?

Let me put this in Spanish: No.

So, was a highway not named in my honor?

That's just Interstate 95.

Was my work not put on the space shuttle

and sent to the great beyond

so other civilizations could appreciate it?

It's in that drawer.

My whole life is a lie.

Both of you, sit down.

Adam, I sometimes wasn't truthful with you,

but doing anything worthwhile makes you vulnerable.

And isn't it easier to have the support of someone

who loves and believes in you?

But did you believe in me?

I've always believed in you, Schmoo,

even when I thought you needed to grow a little.

The important thing was you were enjoying

your creativity until you got there.

And, Ben, weren't you enjoying writing again?

Is that the most terrible thing Adam could have given you?

I guess I enjoyed talking spaceships and robots with the kid.

And I really do think your book has promise.

There's a really good story in there,

if you just make it a little less terrifyingly sexual.

- What's this, now? - I can do that...

for the best grandson in the world.

Hey, that's pretty nice.

Heh.

- How are you guys doing? - Fine.

Besides the fact that we're never leaving our baby again.

Look, even though we had a taste of the joy

of being parents today,

we can't say we understand how hard this is for you both.

But one thing we do know...

If you don't also make time for each other,

you're not gonna be happy.

Because two unhappy parents makes for one unhappy kid.

So, maybe you have to miss a few magic moments

to make sure you can give this little cutie

the happy parents she deserves.

- Hm. - Wow.

Did you two just give us great parenting advice?

Well, someday, we plan on being even better parents than you.

Even though that's gonna be nearly impossible.

Does this mean we can use your apartment for our alone time?

- Ugh, Jesus. - Oh, God, no.

- All right, I'm done. - Geoff, you ruined it.

Sometimes, the hustle and bustle of our lives

can make us forget to connect with each other,

which is why it's so great when we uncover new ways

to make our connections even stronger.

'Cause when we make time for those we love,

there's no telling how great the story can turn out.

Okay, Mrs. Kremp, you're up.

Well, I couldn't stop thinking about Ben's erotic tale,

so I thought I would try my hand at the steamy genre myself.

- Smoke break. - Oh. Okay.

There's more space now, if you want to slide over.

I'm good. This is the last time I'm attending.

"Charlene had known Roderick

since they shared a smile at summer camp.

"But everything changed the day he came to fix her sink.

"His fully-clothed body

just inches from her fully-clothed body,

he pressed his bare hand into hers.

"It was electric with respect and friendship."

But what happened to the leaky sink?

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