All language subtitles for Its.Always.Sunny.in.Philadelphia.S14E06.1080p.WEB.H264-METCON+ION10

_

- _
- I suppose I should start at the end.

- _
- My end, that is.

That poor sap doing the
two-step to nowhere is me.

Bet you're wondering
how I got into this mess.

Well, like most stories,
it started with a white lie

and ended with the dark truth.

I needed a hospital, I needed a day off,

I needed a pretty girl with
soft lips and a nursing degree.

What I had was a mop, a bucket,
and a bellyful of regret.

_

So, how does an honest man
end up spilling his guts

on a dive bar floor?

Don't ask me, pal. I'm just the janitor.

_

Sync & corrections by Costa Dax
www.addic7ed.com

Let's go back to when it all began.

It was a wet Tuesday night,
half past closing time,

when the drunks wobble
home to their beds

and punch their tickets to an
all-night ceiling-go-round.

I had already finished my shift,

or maybe it had finished me.

See, that morning I got
called to a crime scene

in the men's bathroom.

The victim? A handicap stall.

The murderer? A butt.

But whose butt?

That, my friends, was the
hundred-dollar question.

Ah, the hell with it.

And that's when trouble
walked in like it always does,

on a great set of legs.

I got a job for you.

- Not interested.
- Well, I ain't asking.

Somebody spilled, and I
don't mean to the Feds.

So? You know where we keep the mop.

- I'm knocking off.
- Knocking off?

- Or knocking back?
- Beat it, Stretch.

- I said I'm off the clock.
- Oh. Want it the hard way, huh?

Says he won't do it.

Ah, we got a tough guy, eh?

Hey, Charlie, don't make me
mop the floor with you, huh?

Boy, has he got you trained.
All that for a whistle?

I wonder what you'd do for a biscuit.

Biscuit? Why, you little...

Don't worry. In five minutes,

he'll be up and chasing his tail again.

You're gonna mop that
floor, Charlie, or else.

You see, the bar's been
rented out tomorrow

for a private party.

Bigwig. Deep pockets.

You know the type.

If those floors aren't up to snuff,

who do you think he'll blame?

The handsome bartender?

Or the mop jockey in the coveralls?

See you around, Charlie.

Mop the floor. That's easy enough.

Only it never stays mopped.

That's the thing about messes.

They never go away,

only spread around.

Well, hello, sweetheart.

You know, they say any port in a storm,

and this port just...
Ah, shit, it's you!

Charlie, come quick. Something
awful, just awful's happened.

It's Frank. He's been diarrhea-poisoned.

- Diarrhea-poisoned?
- Mm-hmm.

His words, not mine.
He's stuck at my place.

He's absolutely carpet-bombed
my bathroom. And my carpet.

- Huh. Lot of that going around.
- Hmm.

Well, why didn't Frank call me himself?

Why send one of his goons?

What? I'm no goon.

- No?
- No. I...

I'm a knockout blonde with a body

that would make a statue blush.

I get more of a goon vibe from you.

All right, go...

Can you just come and get him, please?

And also clean my apartment?

I'll make it worth your while.

Ah, sure, I catch.

Either I take the job, or
you and the other goons

- play patty-cake with my kidneys.
- Goddamn it!

I'm not a...

I'll buy you a new set of rags.

Hey, that's all you had to
say. Let me get my hat.

He's in the bedroom. Here, take a smoke.

It smells like shit in there.

All right. I'll also take a drink.

Make it stiff enough
to stand on its head

and sing "Oh! Susanna".

You can have tap.

Ooh. Boy.

Charlie. What are you
doing here? Who sent you?

Well, you're in the hot seat,
so I'll ask the questions.

- Who poisoned you?
- Nobody.

- Bad shrimp.
- What? No.

No, this morning you barged
in here saying, "They got me.

"I've been diarrhea-poisoned.

The rat bastard liquefied my guts".

That sounds like you.

Quit flapping your gums, goon!

- Yeah.
- All right, you know what?

- Just, whatever. Here.
- You're giving off

- big goon vibes, Dee.
- All right. Uh...

- Very goonish.
- Just don't ruin my chair.

Goddamn it.

All right, Frank, you
don't want to talk names?

Let's talk about the weather instead.

Where were you when
the brown lightning hit?

I was on my way to work.
I bumped into a dope fiend.

He must have stuck me with a needle.

Don't be a liar, Frankie-Boy, or
your pants will catch on fire.

Or they would, if you
were wearing any pants.

No, my guess is, it started
some time last night

when you were locking up Paddy's.

You waited out the shit
storm in the handicap stall.

When I came in in the
morning, you fled the scene,

hightailed it to the nearest
apartment... Dee's...

only your pants didn't make
the trip. How am I doing?

So that means

whoever got to you
got to you last night.

So who was it, Frank?

Lay off it, gum-scraper.
I'm warning you.

Sorry, chum.

You mess with the toilet,
you get the janitor.

You won't help me? Then, fine.

I'll catch the rat bastard myself.

The next day, I hit the pavement

looking for anybody who
had a problem with Frank.

And, buddy, I found enough
beef to open a hamburger store.

Trouble is, none of 'em
had seen Frank in days.

So it all meant diddly.

When it got dark, I swung by Paddy's.

Maybe the bad guy was hiding
at the bottom of a beer bottle.

I should've swung my
head into a beehive.

It would've been safer
than turning that corner.

Leave me alone!

You're making a big mistake.

Hey! What's the matter, Joe?

They don't teach you manners
at the School for Big Palookas?

The lady said scram.

You think you can clean up
this mess? Be my guest.

I'm a janitor. Cleaning
up messes is what I do.

Now dust, before I beat
you like an old rug.

He sized me up. But
he didn't like the fit.

Suit yourself.

But you'll be back.

They all come back.

There, there, sweetheart.

No use crying over smashed pie.

Now, there was a dame
worth the cover charge.

Her eyes glistened in the moonlight

like fresh gasoline puddles.

They were the kind of
eyes you could fall in...

and summer in.

- And winter in, too.
- Sorry about that.

My boyfriend looks like a bad apple,

but once you get to know Vince,
you'd like him even less.

You're too nice a girl to be
playing with rotten apples.

Well, my pies haven't
always been so sweet.

But I'm trying to turn that all around,

make an honest living
selling home-baked goods.

But he won't stand for it.

Oh, gee, there goes my rent money.

Well, if you need a place to stay...

You're a good man.

I wouldn't want to drag
you into my troubles.

I ain't the type that drags.

I can see that.

Find someplace safe.

If he shows up again, call me.

I'll straighten him out.

Funny.

You don't seem like
the straightening type.

Maybe 'cause you got me all twisted.

Say, fellas. What's the score?

Frank hosed us. Turns out
this party's not for the bigwig.

- It's for his daughter.
- He hosed us.

Yeah, there's no booze, no legal cooze.

Sounds like a snooze.

- And there's barely any dudes.
- Don't add on.

- There's a rhythm.
- Come on.

Well, you must be pretty mad at Frank.

Oh, yeah. I hate his guts.

Funny you should mention his guts,

considering Frank got diarrhea-poisoned.

In his guts.

You two wouldn't know anything
about that, would you?

Can I get a Red 40?

Yeah. Here's your Red 40, kid.

Look, uh,

Charlie, I don't know what
"diarrhea-poisoned" means,

but, uh, I certainly
didn't do it to Frank.

Goddamn. Is that Dee?

I told her to stay home and watch Frank.

What is she doing?

Hang on, Dee.

Cricket? What are you doing here?

Dee paid me to cover her
shift, hence the getup.

Why were you in the basement?

No reason.

No reason, huh?

I'll give you no reason.

Yeah.

More. Oh, yes. Do it.

Harder. Yes.

I'm a slut.

All right.

Frank let me stay.

Frank let me sleep down there.

I've been working for him.

Doing what?

He's running a cherry racket.

A cherry racket?

You telling me Frank's
running underage girls?

I wouldn't put it past him, but, no,

that's not what I'm talking about.

I'm talking actual cherries.

As in maraschino.

Frank hired me to go
down to the local bars

and stick my fingers in
the garnish stations.

Why?

Why, to contaminate
the cherries with feces,

so people get sick, of course.

- My God, that's disgusting.
- It's an honest living.

Not really.

Now, why is Frank trying
to contaminate cherries?

Oh, I don't know.

He flashed a roll of nickels,
and I didn't ask questions.

When someone flashes
a roll of nickels at you,

you don't ask questions, you just do.

No matter what they want or
where they want you to put it

or where they want to put into you...

I'm gonna turn around now.

I'd been looking at this all wrong.

It wasn't a poisoning. It was a payback.

All right, street rat, I want to know

which bars you hit and when. Spill.

Go kiss a duck. You'll
never make me talk.

I'm not slapping you around again.

All right, fine, just get me
a pen and I'll write 'em down.

So Cricket had contaminated
the wrong guy's cherries

and now Frank was dancing
the porcelain rumba.

And I was still in the dark.

And there's only two things
you can do in the dark:

you can drink...

and you can hide.

If you came to shoot me,

at least let me finish my drink first.

I'm not gonna shoot
you. What if I missed?

Well, then you'd have
to say you missed me.

Maybe I did.

Maybe I missed you, too.

Well, you'd better work on your aim.

Sure, I could do that,

- but I'm better at close range.
- Yes, you are.

- Can I fix you a drink?
- No, thanks. I'm sober.

Plus, I saw you put cat food in it.

Maybe I did, maybe I didn't.

You did, Charlie, I saw you
scoop it out of the can...

- I put a little bit in.
- ...and it smells so bad.

You're so close to me with that.

- All right, I'll put it down.
- God.

So what you doing here, doll?

I told you to find someplace safe.

The only safe place for me...

is in your arms.

Oh, sure, my arms are safe.

It's my lips you have to watch out for.

That's a risk I'm willing to take.

Unless, wait, a-are you telling me

you have a cold sore or something?

- 'Cause I'm not good with that.
- Oh, no, we're good.

- Are you sure?
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Okay.

Morning, dollface.

Goddamn it. Why are you smiling?

Well, I'm trying to look sexy.

- You're supposed to be dead.
- I know. I can be dead and sexy.

You're not supposed to be sexy.
You're supposed to be the goon.

No, I'm not the goon. I
don't want to be the goon.

- I want to be something better.
- But you are the goon.

- I'm not the goddamn goon.
- You're the goon, Dee.

Who else is the goon? You're the goon.

How could I be a goon?
I'm wearing a nightie.

- You're a goon in a nightie.
- Maybe that's your murder weapon.

Take it off and you strangle...

Goddamn it. All right, I'm out of here.

All right. Goodbye, goon.

So what's the big idea here, fellas?

Ah, Frank sent us here to blackmail you,

so you stop sticking your
nose in where it don't belong.

Ah, so you're in on
Frank's cherry scheme?

Yeah, it's easy money.

After Cricket fondles the cherries,

the bars trash their whole supply

thinking they're all contaminated.

Mac and I rescue the
perfectly good cherries,

and Frank resells them to the
bars for a neat little markup.

He gives us 30%,
only Mac thinks it's ten.

- What?
- Shut up!

Come on.

Say, you two fellas know anything

about a guy named Vince?

Hangs around the Waitress
like a bad cheese burp?

Yeah, we know him.

Runs with a crew out of
a church on South Street,

only he ain't the praying type.

Tell him I want to meet.

Yeah.

You talking to me?

Yeah.

Well, I can't tell 'cause
I'm not looking at you.

We ain't looking at you either.

Are you still here?

- No, we're gonna go now.
- We're leaving now, though.

That's for the best.

Hey, is it, is it ten
percent or is it really 30%?

It's whatever I say it is.

Well, that about sewed it up.

Too bad I have a habit of
pulling at loose threads.

The doc says that's why my
sutures don't heal good.

So I called up Frank.

He told me to meet him at Paddy's

and he would explain everything.

Yeah, like a brick would
explain gravity to my head.

Frank?

Cricket?

No johns in the basement, pal.

Frank!

My guts are cut to ribbons.

- What? Who did this to you?
- I did.

I was carrying a jar of
cherries, I fell on them,

they bust, they sliced
my stomach to bits.

I'm no matador, Frank,
so you can cut the bull.

I know all about your cherry scam.

My cherry scam?

Oh, Charlie, you sweet innocent dope.

I'm not the top of this sundae.

This goes all the way to city hall.

It all started when I bribed some bigwig

from the Board of Health to ban Red 40,

- the dye used in maraschino cherries.
- _

- Red 40?
- I used the guys

to round up all the cherries,
and then I sat on them

for a couple of months, and then
resold them back to the same bar

for jacked-up black market prices,

but there was a snag in the plan.

The bars wouldn't bite.

Turns out, their customers
didn't give a shit

about the cherries, so we
had to find other buyers

who'd pay through the nose
for their maraschino fix.

Old folks homes for
pineapple upside-down cake,

teenage birthday parties,

and teetotalers

who only drink Shirley Temples.

All right, enough talk, Franky.

Save your story for St. Peter.

All I want to know is who poisoned you?

I tried to protect you, Charlie,

but this mess is too big for your mop.

- I'm not the bad guy here. It's...
- Who is it?

Who is it?

Where is she?

Man.

- Where is who?
- The girl.

She belongs with me.

Well, she's a jewel.
She belongs in a crown.

You belong in bracelets.

You're trying to provoke me.

But I know how to control myself.

Red 40.

Okay, Vince, I'll take you to the girl.

But first, let me fix a drink.

You seem like a smart
cookie. I think you'd do well

in our organization. You should join us.

And if I refuse?

Well...

that could be bad for your health.

Well, how about I drop by a meeting?

Sounds like a gas.

What is...?

What-what is that?

Ammonia-bleach cocktail,
aka the Janitor's Helper.

Luckily, I'm immune.

I've built up a healthy
tolerance over the years,

or unhealthy, depending
on how you look at it.

Huh.

Charlie!

Thank God you're all right.

I am, but Vince isn't.

He's gonna wake up with
his head pounding harder

than a Chinese crossword puzzle.

Huh?

- Was that... That one wasn't clear?
- No.

All right, I'm running out
of them, you know, it's...

But the point is I took care of him.

- My hero.
- Yeah.

I guess my pies are finally safe.

Well, not from me. Hand me a spoon.

Say,

why didn't you tell me
about Frank's cherry racket?

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

Yes, you do. You were helping
him sell the illegal cherries.

- You connected him with Vince.
- Well, I...

I guess I didn't want you to
think of me as a petty criminal.

There's nothing petty
about you, is there, baby?

Ooh.

Oh.

You idiot.

I didn't tell you because
it's my cherry racket.

Frank didn't know what
he had. I'm the one

who figured out those cherries
had fermented from sitting

in those vats for months. Yeah.

They had turned into a
slam-bang booze for the ages,

and we could charge triple in places

where hooch was badly
wanted but not allowed.

Old folks homes,

Sweet 16 parties,

court-ordered rehab centers.

It was like shooting fish in a...

Charlie, are you still eating
that pie? I poisoned it.

- You did?
- Yeah, that's what I'm telling you.

Oh, yeah. You know what?

There's a lot of threads
going around; I'm losing track.

- Okay, I poisoned the pie.
- Yeah.

- So you should stop eating it.
- Right.

- There you go.
- It's good.

- Thanks. Appreciate that.
- Last bite.

- Oh, my God. Jesus Christ.
- And carry on.

- What about Frank?
- I poisoned Frank, too.

He figured out what I was
up to and he wanted out,

but we were making too much money,

so I diarrhea-poisoned
him to shut him up.

Aah!

He got the message in the end.

And Vince?

Oh, Vince caught me smuggling
boozy pies into A.A.

and threatened to rat me
out to my parole officer.

You see, he wasn't
actually my boyfriend.

He was my sponsor,

and he was a real buzzkill, literally.

But why poison me?

Well, you were getting too close.

Or maybe I was.

Either way, I'm leaving
town tonight and,

well, I can't have you following me.

Well, you're not gonna get away with it.

Oh, yeah? And who's gonna stop me?

I am.

See, I knew you were lying
when I found Vince's A.A. chip.

You used me.

You used me like you used Frank.

And I knew it was only a matter of time

before you tried to poison me, too.

So that's why that shot
I took wasn't vodka.

- It was bleach.
- What?

- The universal poison antidote.
- No, it's not.

It's not?

I mean, if anything, you've
ingested more poison.

No, you put bleach on poison, it
cancels it out, I'm pretty sure.

No, it makes the poison more poisoning.

No. The two things cancel...

No, you're right. Here
come the cherries.

Oh, God!

Jesus Christ, Charlie!

Either way, you're done, baby doll.

I called the cops to take you downtown.

- Oh.
- Ha ha!

The gig's up, you ugly dame.

You're under arrest.

- You come with me.
- What the hell?

I was undercover the whole time.

I mean, what are you talking about?

- That doesn't even make sense.
- Yeah, I switched things up.

Got tired of being called
a goon. Let's go!

- Ow!
- You're out of here!

- You're really hurting my arm.
- Yeah, that's okay with me.

- This is so stupid! Let go of me!
- All right.

No, I'm not gonna let go of you.

I got one job to do,
I'm gonna finish it.

- Let's go. Yeah.
- Ow!

- Yeah, well...
- Ow! That hurts!

Yeah, that's all right.

Well, this is where you came in.

Only now, you know the
whole sticky situation.

It's not every day that a
janitor makes his own mess,

but when he does... ooh, boy.

Now I'm about to shit my
brains all over this floor.

But don't worry.

I'll mop twice. I always do.

_

Sync & corrections by Costa Dax
www.addic7ed.com