All language subtitles for The Middleman (2008) S01E07 The Cursed Tuba Contingency

- Did you just wake up?
- What time is it?

5:30 in the afternoon.
You sleep all day?

Had a late night, and I gotta get to work
for a new mission...I mean temp job.

- Did you borrow my boots?
- Yeah, last night.Is that bad?

No, no. Mi clothes rack
es su clothes rack.

It's just, I mean, God knows I've spilled
a lot of fake blood on your stuff...

but what the hell is this?
It almost looks alive.

Don't worry, it's dead. Any
movement is just reflex action.

You mean it was alive?

A bug. I stepped on a bug.

With both my boots?

Um... I killed the bug,
then stepped on the mess

with your boots
on the way out.

Your way out of what?

The zoo.

The zoo's closed on Mondays. Why do you
think I picket the ape habitat on Tuesdays?

Uh, a private zoo?
I gotta go. I'm late for work.

What kind of temp job do you have,
and who has a private zoo?

Excellent. Ida, meet us at vehicle
stowage with all the equipment.

You called. I came.
Where's the fire?

Your next assignment is a
follow-up to last night's job.

Another Carpissian
Hog-Roach is on the loose?

Awesome. I'm getting good
at 86-ing those suckers.

That Hog-Roach
from outer space is mine!

Oh, it's yours all right.
Yours to clean up.

You shot that Carpissian Hog-Roach in
the back seat of The Middlemobile.

The next time we trap a rampaging
pig-insect hybrid from another galaxy

that accidentally gets loose in custody,
you should shoot after it gets out of the car.

Right. Next time I'll try to find a
more convenient place to be attacked.

You'd better git, cowboy, or that movie's
going to go off into the sunset without you.

I'm cleaning up Hog-Roach gore
and you're going to a movie?

Ride Lonesome isn't
just a movie, Dubbie.

It's one of the great cinematic
treatises on rugged individualism.

Hey, if you spilled the slime,
you clean the grime.

Happy scrubbing, Tinker Bell.

What do you want?
And who do you work for?

I'm kind of self-employed.

- Lacey?
- Hi, Wendy's boss.

Lacey, what are you...
Were you following me?

I'm seeing a movie.
Same as you.

Sorry, sorry.

It's just so unusual
to see a woman here alone.

In the audience, I mean. There's
always a woman on the screen.

I guess I just assumed this sort
of thing appealed more to men...

Really?
Well, thanks to the Internet,

women are much more comfortable seeking out
visual representations of sexual desire

- for their own gratification.
- Great Barrier Reef.

Lacey, I was
talking about Westerns.

You're teasing me.
I'm sorry.

No, I'm sorry.

I should have mentioned that I'm doing
an art project on... heroic men.

Well, you certainly
picked the right showing.

Randolph Scott
is one of the greats.

- It's so weird hearing you say that.
- Why?

I don't know. Most men your age... It's
all Boba Fett and Jack Bauer, you know?

I like to keep
the old heroes alive.

Well, it's just you and me.

Do you want to sit together?

Oh. We're both going
in that direction.

And we're both
seeing the same movie.

Why not?

Here's your water.

They didn't have any of the cruelty-free
organic vegan candy you wanted.

They don't stock milk,
either.

- Milk?
- Builds strong bodies, right?

Is this what you do
to pass the time?

I get all the excitement
I need at work.

I'm surprised
you aren't there now.

When Wendy left she said
it was gonna be a busy night.

And it will be, for her.

Sometimes it's good
to be the boss.

What do you do for a living?

We're international consultants

that solve exotic problems for corporations, individuals, and even governments.

Obviously, our clients
often prefer anonymity.

That's so clear... concise.

I wonder why
Wendy's never said that to me.

Maybe she's afraid to.

You're the most important person
in her life

and what you think of her
is everything.

- Oh, I know that sound.
- So do I.

I've seen the first act of
Ride Lonesome 16 times.

We have a Red Ball from O2STK.
Some guy just drowned.

- Drowned?
- In his bed.

Maybe someday you can interrupt
whatever I'm doing.

Hey! What's going on?

We're agents Boetticher and Kennedy from
American Shrimp and Crab Amalgamated Processors.

- Law enforcement.
- ASCAP?

We avoid using the acronym
for copyright reasons.

But, uh, whenever unexpected shrimp or
crab appear in the context of a homicide,

we're not far behind.

- I'm Officer Cecil Rogers, CSI.
- So what do we have here?

Meet the late Artie Atkins. Cause
of death appears to be suffocation

as a result of his lungs spontaneously
filling with sea water and a clam.

I'm not touching seafood
for a year.

I also performed an on-site gastroscopy
in order to verify my initial findings.

- That's extraordinary.
- Thank you.

Have you been able to determine the
salinization levels of the sea water?

- Absolutely.
- Well played!

Salinization levels indicate that
the water in this man's lungs

originated in
the North Atlantic.

This man knows
his salinization tables.

Is it possible that someone forced
the water into the man's lungs?

There are no visible signs
of forced entry,

no inflammation of
the nasal passages or trachea.

This defies every principle
of science I know.

And yet, I'm convinced the sand and water
somehow sprang from within this man.

Well, Officer Rogers, will you please
accept our congratulations and admiration

for a job well done.

Nothing like watching a really
good CSI technician do his work.

Could you cut the bromance? This
crime is gross enough as it is.

Step aside. You're contaminating
the crime scene.

- Who are you?
- Who are you?

- ASCAP.
- The shrimp guys?

We're CSI, Metro,
we need you out of the room.

But your CSI guy
has been here already.

- Cecil Rogers, he just left.
- Cecil Rogers? Never heard of him.

That duplicitous,
double-crossing weasel.

Aw, you loved him so.

Why was Rogers there? Why did he go through
the trouble of posing as a CSI? What does he want?

Same thing we did.
To gather information.

And maybe faking being a CSI guy
wasn't so difficult.

Maybe he is, or was,
a CSI guy at some point.

Nice deduction, Watson.
Ida!

I'm on it. Checking current and former
CSI techs who match Rogers' description.

- Of course, without a picture.
- There has to be a faster way

for the facial recognition imager to
create an accurate composite portrait.

- What if you just scanned in this?
- Nice.

Rogers really got
under your skin, huh?

I was so distracted
by his charm and competence.

Time to quit your grinning
and drop your linen, people.

You got an ID
on Captain Mancrush?

No, but I do have information about
the drowning victim, Artie Atkins,

known to the world as Double-A.
He was a fence who specialized
in unusual art and antiquities.

Well-known paintings,
sculptures and collectables.

Items that had to be handled
discreetly and sold secretly.

Do we know what Double-A was working
on at the time of his death?

What? Now I don't know
how to do my job?

I cross referenced
the list of his associates

with his telephone bill
from the last three weeks.

Double-A made six phone calls to
only one associate, Johnny John.

- Do you have an address?
- 8660 Hawks Lane,
apartment nine.

God, am I underpaid.

You the pizza delivery?

We're Agents Harland and Wolff
from the Department of the
Interior. May we come inside?

Actually, this is not a good
time. I'll be right back, honey.
Don't get distracted!

Look, I've got a beautiful woman
in here who's hot, willing and able,

who finds me devastating
in my raw feral power.

- Did I mention she was hot?
- Yes.

-Do you have any idea how rare that is for me?
-Yes, I do.

- This is an urgent matter.
- This isn't?

Please. Look at me. The last time I was
with an attractive woman was... never.

Just give me five minutes.
Maybe six. I'm begging you.

Five it is.

Here I come, peaches.

Tell me you didn't buy that. He's going
out the back window as we speak.

No, I know a desperate man
when I see one.

He'll keep his word and the trance-like
ecstasy of sexual gratification

may make him an easier target
for interrogation.

- This is so...
- Awkward?

Did that sound like
sexual ecstasy to you?

A succubus!

- Stand down, demon.
- Don't let her touch me,please!

Then give us answers.

First your partner drowns
in a motel room

now you've got a soul-sucking
demon attacking you?

What have you two been up to?

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

-But I'm losing my grip on this one.
-No, wait, wait!

Me and Double-A pulled off a job, now
someone's coming after us. That's all I know.

You must let me destroy him!

Oh nuts, my grip
is slipping here.

I don't know how long
I can hold her.

I'm talking, I'm talking.
Just keep that freak away from me!

What was it?
What'd you steal?

- It was a tuba.
- A tuba?

What kind of tuba? Tenor?
Four valve? Silver? Gold?

It was a tuba tuba.
We took it from a bank vault.

You don't want to believe me, that's
up to you. Now tie that thing up!

-Why would anyone want to steal a tuba?
-Ask her boss.

Roxy Wasserman!

Why doesn't anybody ever listen to me?
This is hillbilly wear. It's a nightmare.

What is this,
the Grand Ole Opry?

Get it out of here!
Out!

What the...

We had a deal. You don't organize heists,
you don't collect magical artifacts,

and you don't send your succubinical
minions out to kill people. Remember?

MM, have you forgotten
your manners?

It's not nice to drop in
on a lady unannounced.

We've had some laughs, Rox, but
we had a deal and you broke it

and there's consequences.

If you're sending your demons out to kill,
then my sacrifice and that of my sidekick

will have been worth it
to stop you.

- Excuse me?
- Everybody out.

Out!

Let her go, Dubbie.

MM, Bubbie...
for many years,

I have respected
our "agreement,"

but the tuba,
that changes everything.

After decades of running this place,
of offering struggling succubae...

And incubi.

...a place to stop
their killingways,

you just chuck it all away
one day for a tuba?

Not just any tuba.
A cursed tuba.

It's the only
musical instrument

to survive the sinking
of the Titanic.

The ship hit an iceberg, sank,
and somebody saved a tuba?

Exactly. That instrument
is an abomination,

and whosoever hears the E-flat
rumble of its serpentine valves

will drown in the icy waters
of the North Atlantic.

That explains why
there was a crab and clams
in the victim's mouth.

Imagine what would happen if that tuba were
played for a crowd? Or a marching band?

Or a live television broadcast?

Thousands, maybe millions,
of people could drown...

- In the icy waters...
- Of the North Atlantic.

So you hired a crew
to steal the tuba

and then sent your soul-sucking
ladies to take out the thieves?

You are as ignorant
as your jacket is tacky.

I run a decent, respectable
halfway house for succubae.

We want to co-exist with humans.

When the tuba was stolen this
morning I decided
to do society a little favor

and launch my own investigation.

And find and keep for yourself a
priceless object of unspeakable power?

Oh. I only have
the noblest of intentions.

- Well, you should have told me.
- MM...

Here's what I propose.
We call a truce.

But if you fail to find and neutralize
that brass pipe from hell,

I will send the ladies out to terrorize
every single criminal in the city

until it is destroyed,

or safely put away.

OK, Rox. Deal.

Oh, and one more thing.

The key is the tuba.
We have to find it.

That's easier said than done.
It could be anywhere.

If Little-Miss-Can't-Do
is done flapping her lips,

I'll find that tuba
without leaving the room.

I'm integrating with the world
surveillance network,

scanning all Internet databanks
and search engines,

all communication networks,
military and civilian.

If anyone on the planet
so much as utters the word
"tuba" into a phone,

I'll know about it.

I've got a hit!

- What?
- The President used the word "tuba"

five times
at a breakfast meeting.

Oh.

- I've got a hit!
- Yeah?

An elementary school kid in Hong Kong
won a medal for playing the tuba.

I've got a hit.

- Uh-huh?
- There's a 2-for-1 tuba blow-out

at Reginald's House of Brass
in Downers Grove, Illinois.

I've got a hit!

I've got a hit!

I've got a hit.

The Southampton Philharmonic
lost a tuba last Thursday.

They don't want it back.

Break time?

Keep an eye on the watch.

The moment Ida gets a credible
lead, we're back on the streets.

I've got a hit!

- Yo, Wendy Watson.
- Hey, Noser.

- So, how did your day begin?
- With a friendly voice.

Really? 'Cause all I heard
was the sound of salesmen.

- Of salesmen?
- Yeah. Of salesmen.

Weird.

Lace, you got any plans tonight?

Sorta. I thought
you were working tonight.

Well, I kind of am,
but if you wanted to, say,

go to Little Tokyo
to grab some ramen noodles,

or pop in
a Mario Bava movie or...

- Hey, you look nice.
- I know.

- And I gotta go.
- What?

Hey now, Wendy Watson, solver of exotic
problems, isn't the only one with a life.

Wait, did you just say that
I solve "exotic problems?"

Yeah. So?

Well, it's just a very
specific turn of phrase.

I'm a very specific girl.

We'll do something
tomorrow night, OK?

Hi there, Wendy's boss-man.

I...I'm really glad
you could make it.

I'm a spur-of-the-moment
kind of gal.

Cruelty-free vegan candy?

I saved the same seats for us.

Do you ever take that thing off?

- No.
- Never?

It's waterproof, shock-proof
and grafted to my skin.

Really?

Might as well be.

I've got to go.

At least you know
how the movie ends.

Actually, I don't. Like I told
you, I've seen the beginning
of Ride Lonesome 16 times.

But the end?
Never.

You mean you've gone your
entire life without finding out
if Ben Brigade

gets Billy John
at the hands of the law,

or if his sense of self
just ends up another casualty
of the dying west?

I'm sad to say
the answer is yes.

If you want, I'll stay
'till the end
and let you know what happens.

You'd do that?

I like to keep
the old heroes alive.

One coffee and milk,
hold the coffee, for you,

and one coffee and milk,
hold the milk for me.
So where's the tuba?

Ida found this posted
on MyFaceInaTube.com.

The highly popular
social networking
and video sharing site?

"OMG! LOL! ROTFLMAO! WTM?
I finally got a tuba!"

Kid got a tuba and blogged
about it. What makes you think
it's the tuba we're looking for?

That 15-year-old boy happens
to be Arturo Arroyo,
the son of Gabriel Arroyo,

the manager of
the Peckinpah Motel.

Where Double-A
drowned in his bed.

Apparently Arturo took the tuba
from Double-A's room
after he died.

He figured Double-A wouldn't
need it anymore.

"I have a band audition at
the school tonight but my new
tuba doesn't have a mouthpiece

If anyone has an extra
mouthpiece, please bring it."

He can't play
without the mouthpiece.

He's bound to find one
in the school band room.

We don't intercept Arturo
before someone loans him
a mouthpiece, that school...

Will drown in the icy waters
of the North Atlantic, I know.

This is good,
no one's drowned yet.

And no one's playing the tuba,
which is just as good.

Hey, Bradley, do you have
a spare mouthpiece?

Mister Rogers!

Stop! Thief!
Put down that tuba!

Shot in the heart.
That really, really hurts.

Hello, again.
What's the matter?

Never seen a man come back
from the dead before?

Your name is Cecil Rogers, 23.

No birth certificate
or social security number.

But your name is also Charlie Rogers,
forensic specialist in Las Vegas.

No birth certificate
or social security number.

Your name is also
Clarence Rogers,

Grand Prix race car driver
in the 1970's and early 80's.

Survived three fiery crashes.

No birth certificate
or social security number.

You're also known
as Cecil Mulligan,

Hollywood stuntman
in the 1930's and '40s.

Cecil Jauregui,
Cecil Artiano, Cecil Solis.

All mysterious risk-takers.

No birth certificate or social
security number, which is no surprise

since the Social Security Act
wasn't created until 1935.

And last but not least,
Cecil Calloway Rogers.

Penniless musician.

The only one with
a recorded birth certificate.

May I keep this? I have so few
souvenirs of my youth.

So basically, you're a Highlander
with a tuba.

Care to fill in the blanks?

You really going
to hit me with that?

OK.

I was born August 9, 1889.

And, yes, I haven't aged a day since
the night the Titanic sank

into the icy waters
of the North Atlantic.

I played with
the ship's orchestra.

You know the story.
You saw the movie.

I lived it.

The massive hull shuddering
with the howl of twisted metal

as the iceberg rent the bow.

The cream of high society
and the poorest of steerage

trapped as the frigid waters
drowned one and all.

And me and my mates,
playing for the panicked mob
on the ship's deck.

Hang on.
Yeah, I saw the movie.

- That was a string quartet.
- It was after I ran away.

I tried to reason with Charlie, the band
leader, but he insisted we keep going,

so I said I'd go play for the doomed
third-class children below decks.

- But you didn't go.
- I wrapped my tuba in a blanket

told the deck officer it was my
slumbering three-year-old baby

and got on a lifeboat, taking the spot
of a boy with polio and his blind mother.

You took their lives to save yourself
and your instrument? You nauseate me.

Me and that tuba
are cursed for eternity.

As long as the tuba is intact, I will
live forever to ponder the lives I took.

"As long as the tuba is intact?"

Classic curse, Dubbie. The man and
his tuba are spiritually linked.

Kill the tuba, kill the man.

In 1947, the spit valve
was clogged.

I spent ten weeks
in bed with pneumonia.

So that's why you want it back?
To end your misery?

I bet you hear the screams of
the drowning dead every night,
haunting your every moment.

Actually, it's been a good time.

It was rough at first, but
then about ten years later,
1922, '23,

I started going to the gym,
taking a little yoga, I ride
horses, cars, became a stuntman

and I was good at it,
since I can't die and all.

I bought stock, calculators,
then computers, some oil.

I started dating.

That's been going very good.
Very, very good.

So around 1955,
I stashed the tuba in
a bank vault for safekeeping

- and the rest has been history.
- Until someone stole it.

Not just someone.
Arthur Mendelson.

- Arthur Mendelson,
the philanthropist?
- Oilman, explorer...

...and the world's biggest,
most obsessed collector
of all things Titanic.

Mendelson's hosting a dinner
and dance cruise tonight on his
ostentatious private ocean liner

which is three feet longer
than the Queen Mary and
86 feet longer than the Titanic.

The centerpiece
is going to be the quintet

playing Nearer, My God, to Thee
with the real tuba
from the Titanic

and he's invited every Titanic
fetishist in the world
so he can gloat.

What about
the missing mouthpiece?

I found it in the motel
near Double-A's body

and I put it back in the tuba
back at the school

before that guy
shot me and took it.

So Mendelson has the complete
tuba and any of his guests
who listen to it will drown...

In the icy waters
of the North Atlantic.

Not tonight.
We're gonna be on that ship.

We? No way.

Wait. You're refusing to help
get back your own tuba?

I'm refusing to step foot on a
boat of any kind, big or small.

But you're immortal.

Yep, and I stay on dry land.

I'm giving you an opportunity

to preserve your life and to
help clear your own conscience.

Know what happens
when a guy like me gets trapped
in a sinking ship?

My guess is that you'd drown.
Then come back to life.

Then drown again.
For all eternity.

Have fun saving the world.

So all Ida has to do
is make a couple of calls

and we're on the guest list
to the most exclusive
private cruise of the year?

Ida has connections
to get us tickets
to anything, anywhere,

as long as the fate of
the world is at stake.

So I get to lose Hitler's
smoking jacket and do a mission
in a real dress?

You may also want
to do something with your hair.

What's wrong with my hair?

You know, make it
more period-like.

I'll do your hair, Cinderella.
And when it's done,
it'll be just like mine.

I'll be back in an hour.
Maybe two.

Mendelson is a collector
of all things Titanic.

So, of course his party
is themed all around...

The Titanic. I get it.

- You know, I've met
Arthur Mendelson.
- You have?

Yep. My mother, Doctor
Barbara Thornfield, MD, PhD,

she endowed one of
his leukemia treatment centers.

Oh, she's really pushing hard
for that sainthood.

So is it just strictly business
tonight between you
and sexy boss-man?

I refuse to answer until
you stop calling him that.

So, is it strictly business
tonight between
you and pillow-lips?

Yes, it's strictly business.

What else would it be? I'm going
to a Titanic party with my boss.

I didn't even like that movie.

I loved that movie.
I especially loved that song.

I especially hated that song.

Dub-Dub, first rule
of achieving a happy makeover:

never argue with the person
holding the curling iron.

There's Johnny John.

I bet he didn't leave that
.38 snub-nose revolver
in his car.

We should have let
that succubus have at him.

And that's our host,
Arthur Mendelson.

I see a place for the band,
but no tuba.

Oh.

Tropic of Cancer.
Wendy, language!

Phooey. This ship
is about to set sail

with the most lethal tuba
known to man.
They can't be here.

I know, why don't you
just go up and talk to Lacey?

She melts when she sees you.
I'm sure if you just...

Not tonight.
I'm on armed goon tuba duty.

You're on
lose the roomie detail.

Meet me outside when
they're on the pier and safe.

- Hi there, roomie.
- What are you doing here?

You know me, wherever there's a
lobster dinner, I'm there in tails.

It was so much fun getting
you ready, I asked Doctor
Barbara Thornfield, MD, PhD,

well, her assistant,
if she could get us invitations.

- Isn't it fantastic?
- No. It's not.

It's the opposite of fantastic.
It's downright dangerous.

You're international consultants.
How can that be dangerous?

International consultants?

It's a short dinner cruise
of the bay.

What are you so worried about?

I can't explain why,

but if our friendship means
anything, you'll listen to what
I say and not ask any questions.

Please, Dub-Dub.
We got all dressed up.

I promise I won't embarrass you
in front of pillow lips.

I'm begging you.

Why are you doing this?

All right.
Come on, Noser, let's go home.

Bon voyage.

I think we're sailing away
into the virgin sea.

Dubbie, we have to check
the next corridor.
The tuba must be here somewhere.

Oh, this is efficient.

Another month or two and we'll have
covered the ship from bow to stern.

- I was thinking maybe we could...
- Shh. Quiet.

- Excuse me?
- I heard something.

Welcome aboard.

Sensei Ping.
Twisted Stones. On three.

One, two, three.

- I forget. What's my part in Twisted Stones?
- The counting.

How'd you know it was nearby?

I figured if Johnny John picked
that spot to lay an ambush...

Nice job, Shoeless Joe.

- We've got company.
- Arthur Mendelson.

You arranged for the theft of
the tuba. You know about the curse.

Oh, let me guess.

Uh... anyone who hears it
will drown?

In the icy waters
of the North Atlantic.

Yes. I'm not
a superstitious man

but we've all heard
all about the curse.

No one's in
any danger of drowning,

not tonight, not on my ship.

Which, by the way, is three feet
longer than the Queen Mary.

And 86 feet longer
than the Titanic.

Hmm. Well, you got that right.

But a cursed tuba?

Ha! Ha!

You're crazy.

Hello again.

So much for your fear of ships.

Did you really think
I wouldn't show up?

- You arranged this, didn't you?
- Mendelson has done me a great favor.

He's gathered everyone who gives
a damn about the Titanic
and its relics in one place.

And all it took to convince him
that I am the
great-great-great-great-grandson

of the tuba player from the
Titanic was to show him the
picture you graciously gave me.

So tonight you play the tuba.
Everyone who knows about it dies

and your secret remains safe.

My plan is sheer elegance
in its simplicity, isn't it?

No! You will have murdered
everyone on this ship.
There's still time, Rogers.

If you help us, I'll make sure
your tuba is safe for all
eternity. You have my word.

Sorry. I don't trust
good-looking, heroic people.

You have eternal life
and this is what you choose
to do with it?

Did I mention how good
the dating has been?

When's the tuba show
gonna kick off?

I dunno. Have you seen Wendy since
she asked us to get out of here?

It's like she
and pillow lips just vanished.

It's a big ship, maybe
they don't want to be found.

Thanks a lot, Noser.

Did I see a flash of jealousy
streak across that pretty face?

- Why would you think I'm jealous?
- You call the man pillow lips.

You know what? I've always wanted to
see the cabins in a ship like this.

And I always wanted
to finish a lobster dinner.

Be still, Dubbie,
I'm handling this.

- What are you doing?
- Sending a text message.

To Ida? By the time
she hops in the Middlejet...

- Maybe I can reach Lacey.
- Oh, good idea.

- Her number's 555...
- 0164. I already pressed "send."

Wait. Why do you have
my roommate's number?

I have a good memory for
numbers. I know lots of them.

Why do you have
my roommate's number?

I got it from your emergency
numbers on your startup paperwork.

My mother is my emergency number.
Why do you have my roommate's number?

Wait a minute.
Are you and Lacey...?

No. I mean. Not like that.

- She was at the movie and...
- The movie with you?

- She followed me there.
- Which time?

Both times.

"International consultant."

I solve exotic problems.
You told her all that?

I was trying to help,
to make things easier.

How? She's my roommate and my
best friend and you're my boss.

How does that make anything
easier? Why don't you just
date my mom while you're at it?

- Is she nice?
- Ahhhh!

Just kidding. It was a joke,
to relieve the tension.

Want to relieve the tension?
Don't date my roommate.

- Wendy?
- Lacey!

International Consulting
leads to this?

I said the problems
were "exotic."

- Yo. Wendy's boss.
- Hello, Mr. Noser. How are you?

- You enjoying the party?
- The lobster was sublime,
what I had of it.

OK. Well, you texted me to help.
So I'm here to help.

- Just get us out
of these cuffs.
- Noser, get the ax.

- What ax?
- Like in the movie.

I'll close my eyes
and love will guide the blade,

breaking the cuffs and proving
that love conquers all.

- No way, Noser. No!
- I have a universal key!

- Why didn't you say that
earlier?
- Wouldn't have helped.

You couldn't have reached it
and neither could I.
It's in my front pocket.

- Can I just use the ax?
- Noser!

Listen to me. I need you two to get as
far away from that ballroom as possible.

Go to the other side of the
ship, plug your ears with these

and be ready to send out an SOS if something
goes wrong. You familiar with Morse Code?

I know how to tap out SOS.

I told you I loved that movie.

Ladies and gentlemen, honored
guests, and dear, dear friends,

the moment we have all been
waiting for is finally upon us.

You are about to hear a sound

that has not been heard
since the early part
of the 20th century.

-He's got the whole ship wired for sound.
-Sweet.

- No place is safe!
- That's what I meant.

The man playing
the tuba tonight

is the great-great-
great-great grandson

of the man who last
played that same instrument

on the decks of the Titanic,

to ease the fears
of his fellow passengers.

Ladies and gentlemen,

it is my great honor
to present to you,

Mister Cecil Rogers.

Stop that woman!
She's got my tuba!

Oh, why couldn't
it have been a piccolo?

Dubbie! Dubbie!
Throw it overboard.

Get to the nearest railing
and throw the tuba into the sea.

Shouldn't I find something
to smash it with?

You're going to question
that order. Do it anyway.

Throw it overboard.
The pressure will destroy it.

- Good point.
- Don't argue with me,
just do it.

I'm not arguing, I'm running.

Now, now,
let's not do anything hasty.

Take a step closer,
I'll throw the tuba overboard.

- Kill the tuba, kill the man?
- Something like that.

Whoa!

Dubbie?!

Hey!

Help!

Hey, boss! I'm down here.

Dubbie, I've got you.

Grab a hold of something
and climb up.

He's got the tuba!

Ladies and gentlemen!
We promised you a tuba concert

and by God you're going
to get one you'll never forget.

Step aside, boss.
I got this one.

Sweet Molly Brown!

Good shooting, Dubbie.
Good shooting.

Ladies... Ladies and gentlemen,
uh, what can I say?

The tuba that we all came here
to listen to tonight

is now lying
at the bottom of the bay,

and apparently when we dock,
I'm going to be arrested

by the Coast Guard
and the FBI

charged with grand larceny,

so...uh...
here's the string quartet.

Enjoy the rest of the cruise.

I'm gonna have
another bourbon.

Lacey could have died
on this ship.

We all could have.
Thank God we saved the day.

Doesn't matter. If it weren't
today, it would be some other day,

some other mission,
some other danger.

I know what you're thinking. I'm
your boss. She's your roommate.

I'm ten years older
than she is

and our world is too dangerous.
And you're right.

There's no reason for me to endanger
someone we both care about.

Actually, what I was thinking is
that under any other circumstances,

I would be so happy
for the two of you.

May I?

There's something
I need you to know.

Me first. You were right.
Randolph Scott is amazing.

The best.
He's reduced everything
about being a gunfighter

to its existential
individualistic essence.

Words are the enemy.
Only action is real.

We are what we do,
not what we say.

So his eyes and his guns
do the talking,

and you're just like him.

You're like every one
of the heroes I admire.

You take charge and protect
the ones you love.

It's inspiring.

But there's a rule at my work.

I can't see you in
the "dating" sense of the word.

You're my associate's roommate.
It's not right.

Wendy wouldn't care.
Not if it made me happy.

I do. It's not right.

It's like Sam Boone says
in Ride Lonesome,

"There are some things
a man just can't ride around."

What about a movie?
That'd be OK, right?

This sucks.

Good night, Miss Thornfield.

Wait a minute.
I have to tell you something.

At the end of Ride Lonesome
Ben Brigade kills the man
that kills his wife.

Only it doesn't happen the way
you think it's gonna happen.

But once it does,

you realize that
no other ending was possible.