You're the Worst, Season 3

Gretchen:
There is a stack of mail that I have been avoiding.

Justina:
Why?

Gretchen:
They always want money, or you have jury duty, or your grandma sent you a check for your birthday, and then you feel guilty that you never call her, and then you can't get out of bed for a month. Anyway... mail. Does that count for your stupid-ass...? Ugh, sorry.

Justina:
It's all right, I'm a professional. You can say anything you want in here.

Gretchen:
Hmm. Anything? Really? Does opening the mail count for your one little asshole thing, you goddamn cock? You suck-balls dumb dick?

Justina:
Sure.

Gretchen:
Fine, jizz-magnet. I will open one piece of mail.

Jimmy:
Say "whore."

Gretchen:
Whore.

Jimmy:
Whore.

Justina:
I'm regretting giving you license to say anything. Plus I do kind of want to fight you right now.

Gretchen:
Too late. No take-backsies. Titty-sucking bitch.

Edgar:
I really like the adjustments.

Jimmy:
Well, your asinine notes started a thought process of actual, usable fixes. I had to cut the scene in the cockpit of the plane where Joachim Kirschner masturbates during his bombing run on London, but the section is still highly erotic.

Dorothy:
Did you take out the thing with Roger spanking his nephew?

Jimmy:
What, you let Dorothy read it?!

Dorothy:
I thought the sample chapters were great...

Jimmy:
Thank you. It's so nice to hear from fans.

Dorothy:
...just potentially very alienating to women.

Jimmy:
This is literature, okay? It shall sing its own song, uncaring if sensibilities are too delicate. Anyway, it feels like we keep forgetting the proposal's in already. It's done.

Dorothy:
Okay. Just so many descriptions of semen on stockings.

Jimmy:
Stockings are a sign both of the deprivation of the Second World War and how much the repressed Kitty's slutty little legs wanted semen on them! What is alienating about that?

Gretchen:
To think you know how other people should think and feel. That is someone with something seriously wrong with them. That's psychopath behavior.

Lindsay:
So what do we do when she finally comes out?

Gretchen:
We follow her home and egg her house. Duh. I had a better plan, but apparently pig's blood is, like, 12 bucks a quart.

Gretchen Can you take a little break?

Jimmy God, no, woman! There's too much to do, now that the starting gun on the Grand Prix has sounded, the instant that I take my foot off the proverbial gas to celebrate, shall materialize five other writers in my side mirror just ready to pass me on the Autobahn that is the publishing industry... to clumsily mix European race car metaphors. As a veteran writer girlfriend now, you know that the work is never-ending.

Gretchen:
But you spent the last few months drinking and jerking it to the Lane Bryant shoe catalog.

Jimmy:
If I have to explain this one more time: it's all writing.

Gretchen:
So you'll tell him, yeah? Thanks.

Edgar:
No, no, no way! I... I told enough people that someone that they love died.

Lindsay:
I have an idea. When my parents got divorced, they told us at Benihana's so we wouldn't cause a scene. The chef put a shrimp in his hat.

Gretchen:
How'd that work?

Lindsay:
He just put a shrimp in his hat.

Gretchen:
No, I mean, telling you in public.

Lindsay:
Oh. It totally made us not freak out as much. Except later, I drank my mom's mai tai and climbed on the table 'cause I forgot it was a grill. That's why I don't have footprints.

Gretchen:
Wait! Make sure to pull out. I can't get pregnant. Your dad might be floating around right now, looking for a body to reincarnate.

Gretchen:
[seeing Jimmy burying his face in his hand] Let all the sadness out. [Jimmy turns around with a big smile on his face] Whoa! I thought you were crying!

Jimmy:
No. It's amazing. I was smelling the jacket that Dad left and it smelled exactly like him. Just cigarettes, ale, beans, occupational failure. And in a rush, that feeling that we'd been searching for all day just came flying out. And, Gretchen, it wasn't sadness. It was happiness. I'm free. I am finally free! And I'm finally unstuck creatively. I found, all right, the perfect metaphor for the heft of Kitty's adolescent bottom. I'll tell you later. It's...it's too sexy.

Gretchen:
Do you want to go binge-watch that six-part series on the Susan Smith case?

Jimmy:
Yeah. Just a sec. Now that my parental nightmare is finally over, I'm gonna get rid of everything that smacks of Ronny Overly. May he rest in relative peace for someone of his arterial calcification.

Tow Truck Driver:
Dreams?

Edgar:
Some real bad ones.

Tow Truck Driver:
Hypervigilance?

Edgar:
I saw a sniper on the overpass.

Tow Truck Driver:
IEDs in the trash?

Edgar:
Yes! Roadside trash is the worst. Why can't they just throw it away?

Tow Truck Driver:
Suicidal thoughts? You know the stats? 22 every day. Though, in truth, there are some Vietnam dudes that are jacking up our numbers, but still.

Edgar:
I thought starting today, things would get better. But they don't give a shit.

Tow Truck Driver:
Here's what you got to understand. They're not evil. None of 'em are. The military's job is to sand down our humanity just enough to where we can take a life. That's it. Afterwards, some totally separate branch gets to deal with all these purposely broken motherfuckers. Not only is that impossible with the resources, that's just impossible, period.

Edgar:
Yeah, well, then, what are we supposed to do?

Tow Truck Driver:
Not wait for someone to help you. Figure out what works. My man Carter, he hunts all the time. This big chopper pilot I know, he goes to yoga. And we make fun of him, but it seems to work. Jorge hikes the PCT once a year. I got this companion dog. I wanted a big, mean dude, but the organization gave me this little scrub. He saved my life, this guy. This other bro I know locks himself in his bedroom and stabs his closet door. I mean, he's not getting his deposit back, but once the rage passes, he's fine. I know you don't want to hear this, but the minute you stop looking for someone else to cure you, maybe you start living again.

Gretchen:
Legend has it, there is a bar, a secret bar, so exclusive...

Lindsay:
No. We're not doing your stupid scavenger hunt for some dumb bar. You pitch it every Sunday.

Gretchen:
It is not just a bar. It is a secret bar with a hidden entrance. A magical land full of beautiful people, and strong beverages, and retro decor, called a speakeasy.

Jimmy:
Bye-bye.

Gretchen:
Goddammit guys, I need this. I had depression. That is a legit-ass, mental-ass illness. I can't be a pilot. It's a fact. Also, Jimmy's dad died.

Jimmy:
Yeah. About which, I didn't care.

Gretchen:
And I think we both deserve to have a little fun after all that. Also, there's a bar in L.A. I can't get into. That is unacceptable.

Jimmy:
Well, accept it, 'cause I'm not going on a scavenger hunt to find a speakeasy. Easily the worst development in bar culture since Internet jukeboxes and big ice cubes.

Lindsay:
Ew, books are gross.

Gretchen:
Here Lindser, I got you a book.

Lindsay:
Har-har. Here's a book for you. It's called How Not to Be a Bitch for No Reason on Sunday Funday.

Gretchen:
Oh, look. Here's one. It's called I'm Living a Double Life, and I Can't Be Myself Around My Husband: The Lindsay Jillian Story, volume two.

Lindsay:
Where's volume one?

Gretchen:
There is no volume one. You're just that stupid.

Freddy:
Your sisters want me to follow up with you. Apparently, you blocked their numbers, and they want me to tell you: A, you're to have the funeral; B, to make sure to scatter his ashes; and C, don't fall into any shit.

Jimmy:
Ah! Well, tell them: A, we're already having a service tomorrow; B, I will scatter his ashes, into the toilet; and, C, you're grossly obese, brush your teeth, and you're a whore, in descending chronological birth order.

Freddy:
[reading eulogy] "Ronny Overly was not only my coworker. He was my hero. He cherished his family, especially his son, Jimmy. I remember when I came out to visit Jimmy. Oh, bloody hell. This was supposed to be in the third person. Oh, well. Ha, ha. It's me, Ronny. I wrote this in pen, so I might as well keep going. I just realized Freddie has to read whatever I say. My name is Freddie, and I'm a..." I'm not reading that. Skipping forward. "Anyway, I did my best to love him, but he rejected me. I sent him presents, I visited, I Facebook-requested him. Anyway, I forgive him. Please scatter my ashes at the home of actor Tony Shalhoub, whose movie Big Night you and I attended together. What's that, Fi? Your sister just told me he's a Paki. Shit. Anyway, after the movie, you turned to me and said: 'That's what I want to do, Daddy. I want to tell stories.' And I said: 'You can do anything you want, son.' And so, you became a writer. I did that. Anyway, I hope you ditch that depressed girl. And I hope Fi is wrong about Tony Shalhoub. Looking at his last name now, it does look suspicious. Shal-houb. Cheers."

Jimmy:
Excuse me! Excuse me. We are not done. First of all, he is a liar! I begged him to take me to Big Night so that we could bond, but instead, he went to D3: The Mighty Ducks, and I watched Big Night alone. Then his movie was shorter, he forgot that I was with him, so he left without me. For him to claim that he was rejected after 18 years of constant rejection on his part is crazy!

Edgar:
You got me in with the pot people. They're the worst people. Worse than people who study abroad or atheists or...

Gretchen:
Ooh, what about children of celebrities who pretend that it didn't help their careers.

Edgar:
These pot activists leech off of people with legitimate problems in order to further their agenda, which is just getting high! Why did you make me do this?!

Gretchen:
I was looking out for your best interests.

Edgar:
Yeah, well, I'm done with Dr. Weed.

Gretchen:
Hey! If I quit every time my mother pushed me to do something hard, I wouldn't have... I-I... Okay, well, I guess I did quit eventually to start doing drugs and having unprotected sex with college boys. But the point...

Edgar:
No! No more advice! I hate you.

Gretchen:
[as Edgar leaves] I was only trying to fill your...

Jimmy:
[entering] Look what I made! I went to Kinko's. Talked to some undergrads making a 'zine. It's a lovely place. Anyway, turns out I've been living my entire life in opposition to my father. And now that he's dead, I have no idea who I really am. Am I even a writer? Who knows? Maybe I'm meant to be a master carpenter/tree-house architect/singer-songwriter. Anyways, although my zoo animals are likely dead or escaped, I'd like to thank you for taking that router and forcing me to explore the world. Okay. I'm gonna go into the backyard and test some branches for load-bearing capacity.

Gretchen:
Anyway, I-I don't want you to cream your jeans or anything 'cause I know they're your only pair, but maybe my mom wasn't so great.

Justina:
Seriously? What, did you hack my e-mail?

Gretchen:
I mean, the pressure made me rad, but have you ever slept with no sheets? So scratchy. [Looks at Justina's patient] Five out of ten. Would bang.

Justina:
Yup, that's her.

Gretchen:
Actually, that was the first time I fell into a depression. It was after a tennis match and I had won, but not by enough, 'cause it was never enough. And my mom was doing this... this food-withholding thing. I think she saw something about it on a TV show as a way to control your dog or something.

Vernon:
I'm thirsty. I ate too many Blammos and I spat on these ants too much. You got any water? I drank all my sodas.

Paul:
No.

Vernon:
I hear a creek.

Paul:
You can't drink creek water. It's not safe.

Vernon:
Nah, I can't get sick. To build my immune system, I lick weird stuff at the hospital all the time. In surg, they say scrub up, I just fake go through the motions. Come on.

Paul:
That's to protect the patients.

Vernon:
Agree to disagree.

Paul:
Never thought squirrel could be so delicious.

Vernon:
Nuts are high in protein and fat. Makes for tender flesh. People forget I'm a doctor and I know shit. Hey. Check out his little squirrel dick. You dare me to flick it?

Paul:
Ugh.

Vernon:
I didn't know we'd get lost. I was just trying to buy more time. You don't understand. It's a nightmare over there. Becca makes me wear full pajamas so our skins don't touch.

Paul:
Lindsay may have stabbed me intentionally.

Vernon:
I only get 20% of the TiVo. And Becca's always erasing my shows "accidentally." I missed all last season of The Librarians.

Paul:
Lindsay orders takeout for one. One time I took a French fry, and she made me give her a dollar even though it was on my credit card.

Vernon:
Becca once held my head in the toilet for a minute when I forgot to flush a duke.

Paul:
Lindsey's cucking me.

Vernon:
Yeah, no kidding.

Paul:
No, seriously. That guy I mentioned earlier, Raul, he's her bull.

Vernon:
What? Whoa. What? So he porks her and you have to watch? What? Damn, that's crazy! Jesus, why doesn't anything cool ever happen to me?

Lindsay:
[outside a women's health center] So then I heated up the condom in the microwave and I got a turkey baster.

Protester:
Wait, I need you to back up.

Lindsay:
Okay, so I wanted a popsicle...

Gretchen:
Lindsay, do not let those pro-life assholes talk you out of your legal right!

Lindsay:
It's okay. I was already having second thoughts before this nice lady came over.

Gretchen:
What, why?

Lindsay:
If Paul and I get divorced, I'm not gonna have a family anymore. Family. Name one family that's just one person.

Gretchen:
Suddenly Susan. Listen, I know that becoming a real human being is a scary thing, but I'll help you. I got your back always.

Lindsay:
Thanks, Gretch. All right. I'm ready.

Gretchen:
Bam, nice try, terrorists. Another victory for women's rights.

Protester:
Actually, I was gonna tell her to do it. In my book, there are extenuating circumstances--rape, incest, and whatever this is.

Jimmy:
I did what you said. I looked at my life from an outside perspective.

Gretchen:
Yeah. Doesn't it feel great?

Jimmy:
No, it was terrifying. I didn't recognize any of it.

Gretchen:
What?

Jimmy:
I don't recognize my life. I don't know whether I made any of the right decisions. Everything could be wrong.

Gretchen:
Everything?

[Gretchen points at herself]

Jimmy:
Everything.

Jimmy:
I am allowed to reassess my life. You have no say in it.

Gretchen:
So I'm just supposed to wait around until you think I'm worthy of being your girlfriend? That's bullshit, dude. Just tell me one of the things on your list.

Jimmy:
Okay, fine. But only if you tell me one of yours.

Gretchen:
Fine.

Jimmy:
[pulls out list] Okay. "I can't see having kids with her." Your turn.

Gretchen:
I'm afraid you'll never be successful.

Jimmy:
Last night, you said that I would never be successful. Well, I stayed up all night and wrote 35 amazing pages just to spite you. So, ha! Consider yourself thoroughly spited. Ha!

Gretchen:
Cool. Okay, I take back the thing I said. You will be successful.

Jimmy:
Thank you!

Gretchen:
Now it's your turn.

Jimmy:
I'm proud of me, too.

Gretchen:
No, Jimmy! It's your turn to take back the mega-harsh thing you said to me. And then, voila, everything goes back to Normal Town, et cetera, et cetera... a little makeup boneage. Maybe some titty massages for Jimmy.

Jimmy:
Wait, what exactly am I meant to take back?

Gretchen:
[imitating]: "I can't see myself having kids with her."

Jimmy:
Oh, that. No, I'm 100% sticking by that. Hey, can we do this titty massage on the patio? I just want to keep an eye on the hummingbird feeder.

Gretchen:
Jimmy!

Jimmy:
You have dropped eight iPhones in the last year, one into a vat of ranch at Souplantation. Child-rearing requires skill. It's not the same as binge-watching a season of Exemplify.

Gretchen:
Oh, my God, that is so sexist and mansplainy! You a Gamergater? Am I living with a Gamergater?

Jimmy:
Sometimes I look at you and I think, "How did this person get in my house?" It's like I've lost the thread of a novel, and all of a sudden, there's this messy short woman who's clearly important to the story. So, I'm flipping back, thinking, "I don't remember that character being introduced."

Gretchen:
Tell me about it! Some days it's like I un-blacked out from a week-long bender, and now I'm in this weird-ass house with sharp corners.

Jimmy:
My mate was supposed to be so different. Classy, unbruised, a first-chair violinist for the Philharmonic. God, can you imagine it? Me in the wings of Disney Hall. And we wave good-bye to the other musicians, and I joke about what a drag it must be for Igor to haul that double bass home. And then Dudamel does a champagne spit-take and shakes his head at me like, "Oh, Jimmy, you are too much."

Gretchen:
How am I not arm candy for some international movie star with a giant dong? He's part owner of a cool tech company and invents apps when he's not dick-punching Peter Sarsgaard in his latest movie. Sometimes we talk about adopting a kid from a third-world country, but we never do it. And we live in a legit-ass castle in Malibu with one of those big modern art pieces by the guy who does the big dots.

Jimmy:
What? Lichtenstein?

Gretchen:
Yeah. A big old Lichtenstein.

Jimmy:
Wow. How very sophomore year art history of you. You definitely shouldn't decorate your own house.

Jimmy:
Dorothy's crying. It's very mucous-y.

Gretchen:
Lindsay's just reciting the spoken word parts of Lemonade.

Jimmy:
Such idiots.

Gretchen:
We're no better than them.

Jimmy:
Oh, speak for yourself. I'm not the one who flung my sandwich like a upset chimp at the zoo.

Gretchen:
I threw it because I realized I was living with an uptight dildo whose personality unmakes itself anytime something bad happens.

Jimmy:
Says the woman who spent weeks catatonic on the couch in crusty yoga pants.

Gretchen:
I have a clinical goddamn illness!

Jimmy:
Oh, right. So you just win because your condition is listed in the DSM?

Gretchen:
No! I win because I am doing something about it. You're just lashing out and putting me under a microscope!

Jimmy:
It just happened! He just died. Right, I am still grieving, Gretchen. Jesus Christ!

Gretchen:
But I was there first!

Jimmy:
Where?!

Gretchen:
Here! In shit, miserable! There just isn't room for you to be broken right now, too.

Jimmy:
Oh, that... that is complete... How is that okay?

Gretchen:
It's not. It is completely unfair.

Jimmy:
No. This is not supposed to... One person is supposed to be in the hospital bed. And then the other uncomfortably sleeping on that little couch, just sneaking home to shower and... and walk the dog.

Gretchen:
Right? Right, Jimmy. And yet...

[Both looking at a picture of Vernon and Becca's newborn baby]

Gretchen:
It looks like the fox in the Nine Inch Nails video that's being eaten by ants.

Jimmy:
It looks like it should be screaming at an old lady in an Aphex Twin video.

Gretchen:
Why is its face so swollen? Did Becca give birth directly over a beehive?

Jimmy:
Even at an illegal baby mill, they'd be like, "Yeah, that's okay. We're good."

Jimmy:
The world is absolutely lousy with people, and I hate them all. I hate everyone but you.

Gretchen:
Yeah. I hate everyone else, too. Now, let's look for clues.

Jimmy:
You did something really horrible for us. You went to therapy, and for me you did this. And thus, you deserve as grand a gesture in return. And since I am 100% psychologically sound and do not need therapy of any kind...[kneels and pulls out a ring] Gretchen, extraordinary, confounding Gretchen, she who emits more energy than a dying galaxy, despite not washing her legs, together we transcend the mundanity down there. Separate, it shall eventually consume us and turn us as mundane as them, and to allow that to happen simply because we were scared would be a criminal act.

Gretchen:
Wait, but the murder?

Jimmy:
I made it up.

Gretchen:
The article? The Twitter account?

Jimmy:
Me.

Gretchen:
The DUI checkpoint?

Jimmy:
Oh, no. That was real. No, we were way lucky on that one.

[Gretchen kisses Jimmy]

Gretchen:
Jimmy, yeah... Wait. You haven't actually asked yet. I am not doing that again.

Jimmy:
Will you marry me?

Gretchen:
Yes! [Jimmy puts the ring on her finger] You made a murder for me! Hey, uh, you ever boned down during the Hollywood Bowl fireworks?

Jimmy:
I mean, of course.

Gretchen:
Yeah, me, too, but not as an engaged person.

Jimmy:
I'll get us a hoodie from the car to lie on.

Gretchen:
Hurry back. This fits, you know? You lost your dad, but you gained me. We're a family. [Jimmy's smile fades] That's pretty cool, right? We're no longer just whatever we were. We're no longer just us. We're a family now.

[Jimmy takes a hoodie out of the car, then gets inside and drives away]