Original subtitles

Previously on Call Me Fitz.

This is not what it looks like.

Mr. Fitzpatrick wasn't trying to sell his

only child for street drugs?

Yup, it is what it looks like.

I gotta find a home for the kid by 4 or child services

is going to take him away.

Sweet, I used to have to pay to get you

brats off my hands.

It's not even your fucking house.

If grandma Alice ever comes by

I'll be sure and thank her for the

Social Security checks.

[gasp]

Grandma Alice was the last good Fitzpatrick,

and you left her in the basement.

Our mortal fucking enemy is your brother?

What, is that relevant?

Cars are the past.

The future is Omo.

And I find when I'm looking for tomorrow...

[shotgun cocked and fired]

There's your tomorrow motherfucker.

All we need is a hotel room,

some scratch,

a kid...

And Larry.

My Uncle and grandfather are using you to set up

Pat Childs on pedophilia charges.

The Polanski, fucknut.

Using a minor to frame a family member

for pedophilia is a federal offence.

Whoever said truth is the best policy

deserves a kick in the nuts.

You want proof?

Exhibit A: July seventh, nineteen-fifty-three.

Fourth cousin, Mickey "The Mook" Fitzpatrick,

returns from his own wedding overcome with guilt about

an incident with the randy coat check girl,

and elects to come clean with his new bride.

Only to have his new bride come clean

with a confession of her own.

Exhibit B: September twenty-third,

nineteen-seventy-four.

Great Uncle Harvey Fitzpatrick,

elects to honestly answer his wife's question:

"Does my ass look fat?"

And spends the rest of his days

pissing through a straw.

And then there's little Richard Fitzpatrick.

Yeah, that's me fuckers.

Exhibit C.

The truth I found out that day in '82...

it'll haunt me the rest of my miserable life.

[screams]

[♪ ♪]

♪ Without you I'd find my smile ♪

♪ Without you I'd'a won by a mile ♪

♪ Without you Oh life would be so grand ♪

♪ Without you I'm half a man ♪

♪ With out you

♪ Without youuu

♪ Without you.

That lying sack of shit.

My old man has a BROTHER?

Think of your father not as a liar

but as an "information withholder."

Here's some information to withhold:

suck my ball sack.

I'm not spending another minute

in that house with that incontinent fuck.

What about the court order for all

the Fitzpatricks to live under one roof

as a responsible family?

Have you been huffing glue,

shitsack?

The baby's gone.

Yeah and it always will be unless

this family can learn to get along.

Look Richard,

Ken is still your father,

and you still have unresolved issues,

so think of cohabiting as

an opportunity to grow.

Grow this, Larry.

I want those fuckwads out

of my life.

Nothing can stop me from leaving

this shit-hole.

Fuck! I hate rain!

Because it externalizes your

internal emotional storm?

No, shitbag.

Because it messes with my hair.

Fuck!

I got it.

[thunder]

Goddamn where is it?

Will you shut the fuck up?

I can't hear myself think.

Mommy needs her wake-up juice.

Sorry Mrs F.

I used it to clean the drains,

but on a more positive note,

I'm making my special brownies.

What's with all the goddamn racket?

If you were good for anything, Ken,

it was because you always kept the

fridge stocked with your hangover cure.

I'd keep it stocked if you'd let me

sleep somewhere besides that

cum-stained couch.

Ya well you should have thought of that

before you stained it, baby.

Oh my gosh.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

If it involves two Thai hookers and a

butternut squash, then yes.

Well this is the first time we've

all been together as a family.

Richard, Ken, Elaine,

and the honorary Fitzpatricks,

Meghan and Josh.

I'm not honorary!

All of us trapped inside on a rainy Sunday,

brownies in the oven, nowhere to go.

What better time to introduce you to...

Truth: The Board Game!

What kinda homo shit is this?

Oh it's an award-winning game

designed by famed Austrian family psychiatrist,

Doctor Klaus Goebbels.

Ah, great.

"Unlock the chains of dishonesty with

some good clean family fun!"

Give it up, Larry.

Yeah, we swore we'd never play another

board game after the Parcheesi incident

of '87.

I got seven stitches in my cooch.

Well I assumed you'd react this way,

so I did some research.

Turns out that "Truth" is a

highly competitive, play to the death.

Drinking game?

Now we're talkin!

I'll tell you the fuckin truth...

You're a lying sack of mistakes whose

only achievement is fucking up my

life worse than your own.

Ooh, another truth token for Elaine!

[in unison] Fuck off, Larry.

Brownie, Lar?

They're for my Home Ec. ged credit.

G-E-D.

I know how to spell,

I'm not an idiot.

No thank you, Joshua.

I dislike all brown foods.

It's the color of shame.

Memory lane.

What the fuck does that mean?

Ah! Players landing on memory lane must

recall an incident from childhood

that's appropriate to that colour.

Red.

That's positive!

I am positive that you're

functionally retarded.

No, as in a positive memory.

Let's say hockey, winter of '82.

Since when was fuckwad into sports?

I wasn't.

Yeah you kinda were actually.

He was the puck-boy for the

Brockville College girl's hockey team.

He use to carry their gear and

wash their uniforms.

Ya, Richard had enormous team spirit!

I did like the smell of victory.

Until you suddenly quit the team.

Yeah, I remember this one.

They made you walk home all by yourself.

Leave it, Larry.

Ooh, hit a nerve?

This is so worth a truth token.

The team folded, okay?

I thought they won the championship

that year.

Hey, it's my fucking turn;

I'm calling the shots!

Well someone's keeping secrets

and we all know what that means.

Time to put another lie chit

on the Trust Bridge!

Oooooh

[laughter]

What are you afraid of Richard?

I don't understand what's going on.

Gimme a brownie!

Pass me a drink!

Drink again!

Gimme another brownie!

Growth!

Roll again!

Gimme a Scotch!

Drink again!

Chug it, chug it!

What's wrong with lying anyway?

Roll again.

More drinks!

Gimme some Burbon!

Liar!

Drink again!

Liar!

Pass me a drink!

That is cheating!

Drink again!

Liar!

We're all fuckin liars

Shut up Ken.

[laughs]

More Scotch!

More Burbon!

[laughter]

Roll again!

Goodness gracious.

We just collapsed the Trust Bridge!

[giggles and claps]

This is the best part of the game!

We all have an opportunity to flex

our growth muscles!

[in unison] Growth!

Okay good!

While I'm happy you're enjoying the game,

I think you will all appreciate--

[in unison] Appreciate!

No no, that's not...

Ok, listen up.

The only way to repair the Trust Bridge is

to enter the Fear Forest.

Ya you're all going to write down

your biggest fear, then you're gonna

stick it on our foreheads.

Foreheads!

[♪ ♪]

Okay.

I think you can dig a little deeper.

Only if tall, plain and ugly

eats a brownie.

Me?

All three of them.

Yeah!

[laughter and taunting]

I bet you twenty bucks

he pukes it up old man.

Fuck you, no he won't.

Come on string bean.

Twenty bucks he pukes.

Choke it down, choke it down.

No fuck that a hundred.

Two hundred!

He's gonna do it.

Oh, he's going to do it!

Oh ya ya ya.

Vomit! Vomit! Vomit!

Choke it down string bean!

Bullshit.

OK, I ate them.

Now let's see what we're really

afraid of.

[♪ ♪]

Good. That's progress.

But what about you, Richard?

For two truth tokens,

why did you stop being puck-boy?

Because, lick my crack.

No tokens for you, mister.

Josh.

I lost my virginity to a dog.

Welcome to the club.

No, literally.

It was a Great Dane.

High school halloween party,

summer of '91.

Hey, I was at that party!

Rocky Pasquale's place, right?

We're talking about me!

I lost my virginity at that party too,

to a gorgeous black guy

Stop talking.

With a mohawk and a fuck-ton

of gold chains.

What?

Come on.

That totally deserves a truth token!

Not your turn, Meghan.

But what's interesting is that

Elaine's card read "REGRET."

What does that mean?

Well Ken knows.

Don't you, baby?

Shut your trap, Lainey.

This is what I'm talking about.

Another opportunity for growth!

[in unison] Growth!

Do you smell that?

Fire!

My homework.

You're gonna get an A

Ya, I know.

I got it!

[laughter]

[screams]

[giggles]

Are you giggling?

I don't giggle.

Will you just fuck off?

Off.

OAF?

That's a funny word.

What the fuck do you have to regret?

Look around.

I'm stuck here playing this moronic board

game with my degenerate son.

My delusional daughter.

And you. Look at you.

Look at you.

You are a loser.

That's what I have to regret.

I could be sitting pretty right up

the street with your biggest competition.

Your little brother.

I could have been Mrs. Pat Childs.

[maniacal laughter]

Fuck off.

[gunshot]

[♪ ♪]

What the fuck happened?

[♪ ♪]

Shit, did I roofie myself again?

Fucking hell.

Oh! Oh!

Why can't I remember anything?

Welcome to the blackout.

A rich Fitzpatrick family tradition.

Hey, wake up old man.

Where's your mother?

Hey isn't that Elaine's scarf?

Blood.

Aw, fuck.

Somebody must've killed her.

Murder most foul.

Tell me, what do you call it

when a group wakes up in the

Fitzpatrick household with

absolutely no recollection of

what happened the night before?

Tuesday?

Denial!

The culprit poisoned us last night,

and I want to know who, and why,

and where, and when,

and how, and who.

Could it have been a ploy to distract,

while one of us did away with Elaine?

Who had motive?

Hey, how do we know it wasn't you, huh?

Oh!

Out of here.

I'll tell you who--

Dipshit's ex-wife was fucking his brother,

Pat Childs-- our competition.

How's that for motive?

Any more truth bombs, old man?

Just one.

You're a cocksucker.

There's no way I'm going back to the

clink for murder.

Well I'm not taking the fall.

[Meghan screams]

Meghan?

What is that?

Make it go away, daddy!

I've smelled enough dead hookers in my

day to know that's a body.

Mommy!

Do it.

What?

Do it!

No no no no no.

Oh Elaine.

Aw shit, not again.

What the fuck?

[♪ ♪]

Richard?

I know that look.

What are you remembering, Richard?

Did Josh kill Elaine?

I don't fucking know.

I'll tell you what I remember.

Nothing, and I won't for

another three to four to sixteeen hours,

or until the brownies wear off.

Brownies?

What did you put in those brownies, Josh?

Ahhh, sugar, cocoa powder, eggs,

a little purple kush for zing.

The usual recipe, cocknose.

Oh, and bath salts.

We were out of kosher.

Aha! Toxic brownies,

inducing collective memory loss.

But what's with the lobster shells, Josh?

Isn't it obvious?

The crustaceans rose from the sea

to capture Elaine as their shell queen,

so naturally I fought them off

to defend her honour,

Moron.

whilst wearing their slain bodies to strike

fear into their cold, dead hearts.

Or.

You were fighting off Meghan.

You think Josh was trying to stay away

from me because I killed mom?!

You've been pissed at your mother ever

since she won that bet and fucked that

pea-brain ass-juicer, Josh.

Hi Ken!

Why else would he be hiding in a room

wearing a lobster claw on his dick?

You'rethe one who's afraid of crabs.

And not the kind you get when you

fuck guys with crabs.

Daddy! I did not kill anyone.

I swear, it wasn't me!

Then why the hell were you

wearing a dog mask?

'Cause I was re-living the best day

of my life; the day I lost my virginity

at Rocky Pasquale's party.

I can still remember that mohawk.

I was at that party, ass fucks.

You dressed as a dog and lost your

virginity to a black guy with gold

chains and a mohawk, right?

Yeah, so?

And you lost your virginity to a dog

that same night.

D'you remember what you dressed up as,

you idiot?

Yeah, I went as Mister T.

Ah! So that means that...

Meghan and I slept with the same dog?

I think I found Elaine!

You found mommy?

Go!

We're both dog fuckers!

Look, a freshly dug grave.

Ahhhhhhh!

Fuck me.

She was a salty bitch,

but she was your mother.

We're gonna need some fresh sod to

cover her up.

I guess you could say we're in

a real pinch hey?

Too soon?

We can't just leave a body here

in the yard.

Meghan, dig her up.

What, gross.

Make your boyfriend to do it.

Me?

Why does it always have to be me?

Oh, Elaine.

What the?

Oh look.

Look look look.

AHHHHHHHH!

Grandma Alice.

You should never have eaten us!

This is your fault!

You have to make this right, Larry!

How?

How burnt brownies, how?

Fuck off, Larry.

[crying in fear]

Do you remember what happened

to my mom or not?

It's not your mother in that grave.

In my bath salts-induced stupor,

I must have given Grandma Alice

a proper burial.

How could you be so cruel as to put her

in the compost?

Biodegradable, dude.

And you owe me a fucking hockey stick.

Will you clowns focus?

Where's Elaine?

I suppose there is a bright side to

every dead, biodegradable grandmother.

Elaine might still be alive.

If only we had another clue.

I got nothing.

Except for a buncha crab parts and this

flyer for an all-you- can-eat seafood

buffet at the Ship Victory.

Yummy!

The Ship Victory!

Think we should check the bar.

We are out of booze.

Where you going?

Hey. Hey!

What kinda lowlifes would trash a bar?

And who drank all the fuckin'

top shelf booze?

What kind of animals would do that?

I think I've got an idea.

Shell fish buffet.

This can mean only one thing.

A total and complete coincidence.

Where the fuck are those camel-humpers?

I need a drink.

Again with that look, Richard.

If we could just talk about that

blank card, your secret fear,

maybe we can help find your mother.

I already found her, twat-sock.

Oh ya?

What the fuck you waiting for?

Oh, Elaine.

[grunting]

What the fuck kinda kinky

Arab shit is this?

How dare you white devils set foot in

this establishment.

Put the gags back in.

No, no no.

Cousin cousin, it is time to

reveal ourselves.

Because once they recognize their

arch nemeses,

they're sure to let us go.

Why not!

Would you trust me!

We are... THE RUPTALS!

[gasp]

But wait.

They may know what happened to Elaine!

We can't just give up.

We know where the good alcohol is!

At last we are liberated from

the shackles of anonymity.

At least in front of these repulsive

pork eaters

And now we can grow moustaches

of our own.

Don't push it.

Crabtinis?

That sounds more foul than the

hideous cocktail you made for that

weathered whore.

Wait a minute, Elaine was here?

Drinking and carousing like a

college kid high on the mary jane.

Jezebel.

What the fuck are you talking about?

You were here with her,

wasting our brown poison on your

sinful elixir of sour lemons.

That is how you cut your hand.

You see?

What did I tell you.

Brown!

The colour of shame... Oh.

Craba coladas?!

And then you stole the earring of

Gargling Billy Blythe,

our most sacred mascot.

I believe the English name for

such elixir is "Bourbon Sours."

Tell me it wasn't a bottle of

Evan Williams.

So it was called.

And you paid handsomely for

Mr. William's bottle.

Well fuck me.

[laughs]

Are you remembering something, Richard?

Think, Richard, think.

Make it stop, make it stop,

make it stop--

Summer of 82.

My idiot parents forgot to pick me up,

so I had to walk my ass home.

Once again putting their own selfish

needs before mine.

No kid ever needs to see what

I saw that day.

Lainey, I want to do it like old times.

[screams]

It's just like hockey all over again!

Why can't you keep it in

your fucking pants!

Aha, every child's worst nightmare!

You saw your parents copulating.

It's the root cause of your own

crippling fear of intimacy!

And that, my friends, is the true

discovery here.

Seeing my parents doing lovie-dovie

stuff is fucking sick.

Yeah but we just peeled another

layer off the Richard onion.

So bravo, Richard.

And thank you, Dr. Goebbels.

Well, this ended well.

Yeah, let's get the fuck out of dodge.

First we need to uncover the

whereabouts of one

Mrs. Elaine Fitzpatrick.

We have.

Evan Williams bourbon sours.

My proposal panty stripper.

The one I go to when I want

to seal the deal.

Wait, if you were plowing her with

bourbon sours, then that means you...

You fuckin' PROPOSED?

Every time you guys get married,

I'm the one who gets fucked.

No judgment here, Richard.

This is a joyous occasion,

one that calls for a toast.

Crabhattans!

Don't look so happy kid.

I know exactly where I took your

Mom last night.

Paradise.

[laughs]

Lainey!

Welcome back to the bedroom, fucker.

Get that wet sack of oats you call an

ass off up off the ground.

We got a wedding to plan.

Yeah we do.

My shoes.

I got em.

You and me forever Lainey.

Stop talking.

Cocksucker!