- Oh, nude beach. - Ball pit.
- Strip club. - Paddle boats.
- Dildo party. - Turtle races.
- Sex trampoline. - Ah, yes.
Can we do that at the nude beach?
- That could be like third. - What are we doing?
Making a list, ho.
Look around, guys.
Sunday Funday is so played out.
Oh, no. They've corporatized your cloying, fabricated,
feckless drinking holiday.
'Tis nothing pure anymore?
But this is our special thing.
It's the last thing that's distracting us
from the constant dangers...
Jesus!
We have to do Sunday Funday.
- It's my one day off from Paul. - No!
No. You have two choices.
You can either be with Paul for realsies,
or you can dump him.
I am sick of listening to you complain about stuff,
- and not do shit about it. - Fine.
I won't bring it up anymore, bitch.
Bad friend bitch.
Hey, you can't take Sunday Funday away from us.
I love it, too, but, clearly,
it cannot continue in its current form.
But... maybe with a little creativity...
Well...
legend has it,
there is a bar, a secret bar, so exclusive...
No. We're not doing your stupid scavenger hunt for some dumb bar.
You pitch it every Sunday.
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.
Bye-bye.
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.
Yeah. About which, I didn't care.
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.
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.
Oh.
Goddammit. Fine.
I will come along, but I'm not solving any riddles.
Fine.
If it keeps me out of the house... I'm in.
Oh, can we call it Sunday Funday, anyway?
Absolutely. Yay!
I have the first clue bookmarked on my phone.
The site is blank except for this dumb symbol.
You can't click on anything.
_
Hmm.
Source code.
There. See those numbers?
They're outside any command fields.
It's a message.
It's an address.
We won!
Ugh, nevermind.
- Too short for coordinates. - Maybe it's date and time.
Dewey.
Do we what?
Dewey Decimal.
Do... we... decimal?
Yeah. When I'm writing money.
Or when I get to the end of the thing,
and you go "boop" with your pen.
- Boop. - Jesus Christ.
The numbers refer to the Dewey Decimal system.
So we should go to the library.
Oh.
♪ Sunday Funday ♪
♪ Better than a Monday ♪
♪ Can only do it one way ♪
♪ And that is the drunk way ♪
♪ Sunday Funday ♪
- ♪ Better than a Monday ♪ - Puzzles! Mysteries!
♪ Can only do it one way. ♪
I got it.
Sync and corrections by explosiveskull www.addic7ed.com
Ew, books are gross.
Here Lindser, I got you a book.
Har-har.
Here's a book for you.
It's called "How Not to be a Bitch for No Reason on Sunday Funday".
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.
Where's volume one?
There is no volume one. You're just that stupid.
She he be doing that here?
That's weird. Isn't that weird?
I look at porn all the time.
The bank, the nail salon.
That dog store on Fairfax that won't let me foster puppies anymore.
Here we go.
Look.
"Speakeasies of Los Angeles."
This must be it, right?
It has most of the numbers.
But then what are the extra numbers in the secret code for?
It's a page number.
Obviously.
Oh, my God.
Duh. You're so smart.
There's a photo.
This whole thing's just so mannered.
A library, rare books.
- So twee and completely... - The piano.
Could it be something about the sheet music?
- Ah! That's ingenious. - It's a ragtime.
You can tell from the stride in the left hand.
What?
I took piano lessons.
Mom used to challenge me to see how loud I could play
while her and her scene partner ran lines in her room.
Do we know anyone who knows ragtime?
God damn! These pixels look big as shit!
So I just got a fun piece of news.
Shitstain and Jaclyn eloped.
Oh, my God! Sweetie!
- That's amazing. Congratulations. - Thank you.
Yeah. We were in Vegas checking out Gilles Goujon's
new schnitzel restaurant in the Wynn, and figured,
why not start the rest of our life today?
Yeah. Isn't that a fun surprise?
It puts shit into perspective, like how you can live
your whole life alone and... it's-it's fine.
I mean, I'm... I'm-I'm fine.
Now, let's see, it looks like it could be
the "Hot For Florida Rag."
But...
that repeating figure could be...
Oh, tricky.
Hold my bigifier.
Mm-hmm.
It's called "Happy Toes,"
and it was written during World War I
by Cornelius "Eight Fingers" Gimble.
"Happy Toes"? That's the clue?
Oh, I don't... I don't know. I'm not sure
how weed will affect me these days.
Actually, studies have shown that marijuana can curtail
being completely lame.
Ha! You gave in to peer pressure.
- This is really smooth. - Keep it.
Do you want to join the scavenger hunt with us?
Hell no! I am frightened
by puzzles and general trickery.
The dope thing about this song is, midway through...
blam... switches into a minor key.
So it's like "Happy Toes," but then it's like "Sad Toes."
Happy toes,
sad toes...
_
So, what's the clue here?
Hand job massage parlors?
Pupusa ladies?
Girls wearing jeans that give them long butt?
Poors?
Look!
Ooh. Ooh.
Give us your secrets!
I guess he's not for us. Oops.
Paul would be so good at this.
You've said his name twice.
Once more, you summon him like Beetlejuice.
If you want to say something, say it to my face.
Fine. A: You're boring.
I know it's you who's been wiping boogers into
my glove box, and C: you're a liar.
You told me to wear my stains on the outside!
You can't even let Paul know you have stains.
You and me... we're in a fight now!
Good!
Ow!
Sigh for me now.
- Oh, my God! - Holy shit!
Sigh for me now.
She wants us to sigh for her?
- Sigh for me now. - How do you sigh again?
Sigh for me now.
"Sigh for me."
Cypher. Cypher.
It's a cypher. It's a code!
Cypher the words "me now" on the keypad.
Six, three, six, six, nine.
- Six, nine. - Nice.
Nothing's happening.
Oh, my God! I mean, yes.
It's cool, that.
- It's a key! - Baby key.
How are we supposed to know what it's for?
Where you going?
Oh, no. We scared that man so much, he dropped his typewriter.
He was for us. I knew it!
And what was the plan if we hadn't scared him?
Hand it to us? Stupid.
It's okay to admit that you like this, Jimmy.
I just want to find this bar so that I can tell
whoever made this amateur game
what a minor league effort it is.
What the...?
Oh, my God!
- That's insane! - Okay.
That's quite clever.
The masturbating homeless man's computer took the photo.
But why photos of us? What does it mean?
That we're the bar.
The bar's inside us.
There's something on the back.
It's a map.
But of what?
Looks like titty veins.
Train lines, maybe?
Do we know anyone who's knowledgeable about trains?
Paul is a long-time t... No!
Beetlejuice, bitch!
Wèi, everybody.
I bring Boba, or bubble tea.
Oh, no! Aah! Oh, no!
- I'll just have a sip of yours. - No, you won't.
You girls and your antics.
Okay, so, the blank map
you sent me is indeed the old Pacific Electric Railway system.
And you see here is the one spot they erased from your map.
We are standing in the exact spot
of the missing Red Car station for what is now known as "Chinatown,"
or...
It's got to be the fortune cookie factory.
Come on, Lindser.
Don't you want to come with your husband whom you love so?
Yes, Lindsay, do come!
I'm busy.
Oh.
Okay, well...
How's it going?
I went off my meds because my dick didn't work,
and now I'm totally freaked out by everything,
but this pot is mellowing me out, so,
that's an illegal temporary fix.
How about you?
I have to Gone Girl myself and start over where nobody knows me.
I'm the hottest girl by, like, millions,
because, you know, America.
You know, the scariest thing for me
was to decide that I needed to try to figure out my stuff on my own,
not just what they tell me to do.
Maybe before you do something drastic,
why not just try the thing you're most afraid of?
You mean ask Paul to accommodate my needs
within the confines of the marriage?
You had that right in the chamber, didn't you?
I mean, sure.
Why not?
So everything triggers you?
Oh, yeah.
I'm worse than ever. Even, like, small noises
or someone yelling will just send me, like, to...
Edgar? Turn around.
Has that been going on for a while?
Holy shit.
I didn't even flinch.
I'll be right... I'll be right back.
"The sun always shines after a downpour."
Well, first of all, meteorologically inaccurate.
Second of all, meaningless. I don't think the clues
are in the fortunes.
I shouldn't have inhaled all that slippery shrimp.
I'd already chugged the egg drop soup.
And that whole fried fish.
I have such a weakness for Cantonese, Sichuan,
Shandong and Zhejiang cuisines.
Jiangsu I'm a little iffy on.
Ooh. Anything to eat in there?
Immersion therapy.
Are you sure about this?
Do it!
Hey. Hey, wait.
Oh, stop.
You okay?
I did it.
Okay.
Come on, guys. Let's get serious.
- What's the next clue? - What's the next clue?
- Stop it! - Stop it!
There is nothing here. We have wasted a whole day!
Look. Look.
- Oh, look, look. - Shut up, asshole,
and look at the dragon!
You are a genius.
That's it.
If it gave me a virus, I'll...
- Holy shit. - It's taken over my phone.
Give me back my phone!
This way.
This has to be it.
I'm tired.
Let's just go to a bar.
This does seem fruitless.
Plus, my stomach isn't quieting down.
Yes, Jimmy. You got this.
Go, boy. Get us to that bar.
It's the symbol.
Right there.
The wire is the arc.
The street is the line.
The house is the triangle!
It's the house.
The bar is the house!
Of course it's gonna look like not the thing.
That's the whole stupid point of stupid speakeasies.
Yeah, but...
this really doesn't look like the thing.
Shut up. Have faith.
_
Oh, uh...
I'm sorry, wrong address?
_
Well, great, Gretch. You wasted
- this entire Sunday Funday. - You have been
a gigantic bitch all day, and I'm sick of it.
Oh, are we seriously gonna do this?
Because I've been waiting my whole goddamn life to do this.
I was born to do this!
They were too happy.
They were too happy. No families are happy!
They were actors.
Jimmy, I think this is over.
No. In battle, we risk all for a taste of the immortal.
In retreat, sure, we lose nothing,
but what we gain is far worse than nothing:
Ignominy.
And shame.
We don't give up because they make us.
We give up because we're lazy!
Or would rather drink and watch Treehouse Masters.
Plus, no one tells my girl she can't go to their bar!
I can go anywhere!
Except Nina's... she's mad for some reason.
And Ye Rustic.
The Ace Hotel. Saddleranch. Sagebrush Cantina.
The Alcove. 4100. The Tap Room at the Langham.
Oh, my God. How was I supposed to know Wolf Blitzer was married?
Once more unto the breach.
It's gonna be somewhere weird!
A closet, a wardrobe, the fridge!
Go!
_
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
Ha. Nice touch.
_
Upstairs.
_
- Huh? - _
I don't understand what you're saying.
_
Ooh, flautas.
_
Mexico's spring roll.
_
- Oh, nice acting, dummies. - _
- It's got to be in here. - _
_
I really thought they were actors.
It's okay, Jimmy. We tried.
It's cool, man.
Why are you so relaxed?
Exactly.
Wait, the police let you keep your drugs?
So incompetent.
Excuse me! It is with great distress
that I must ask for a moment of privacy.
No, Paul! You are not using the toilet in here.
Were that I could make it so, wife,
but the situation has become dire.
Lindser, I'm sorry.
Even though it's super boring for me,
and believe me girl, it is like TED Talk boring.
But it's my job to listen no matter what.
But you're right.
Sometimes I do wish he would just disappear.
I'm a witch.
I wish for $100.
Gather 'round quick.
Welcome, players.
You have traversed a great and difficult distance.
Congratulations.
A night like no other awaits.
Thank you.
My, it was an ordeal indeed.
I have so many questions!
Two rye Manhattans please.
That'll be $42.
Oh, my God, you got to be shitting me.
I'm sorry, Jimmy. This place sucks.
Speakeasies are lame.
Well, I told you.
But I found it for you.
- I beat them. - We wanted each other to be happy.
Pfft.
Ah, there you are.
Excellent work with the QR code.
Let-let me ask you about the, uh...
masturbating homeless man. Was he...
Why didn't you want to be with me today?
Paul, I can't pretend to be someone I think you'd like anymore.
If we have any chance, I have to tell you what I want,
and you have to decide if you can live with it or not.
All I've ever wanted is the real Lindsay.
Tell me.
- Your wish is my... - I want to bone other guys.
- Physically. - Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no.
No, no, no. Jimmy.
What?
You can't do that.
- That would break my heart. - No, Paul,
it's for us.
You can watch.
I mean, I'd like you to watch.
I want to be a family, but I also want to be happy.
You want me to be happy, right?
- I consent. - Yay!
Mm!
I love you so much.
This is going to be so good for us.
Family.
♪ Oh, it's right time... ♪
Hello, hipster dorks
of the speakeasy.
My name...
is Jimmy Shive-Overly.
And I'm gonna sing you a song!
♪ Happy toes ♪
♪ Time to say good-bye to woes ♪
♪ Every Jack and Jill knows ♪
♪ She's the gal for me ♪
♪ Happy toes ♪
♪ Happiness I will impose ♪
♪ From New York ♪
♪ To Idahos ♪
♪ 'Cause I'm in L.O.V.E. I'm in love ♪
This is the last Sunday Funday, isn't it?
- Oh, yeah. - ♪ ...decompose ♪
♪ Smiles fell like dominoes ♪
♪ I've lost my gal ♪
♪ So if you see her, tell her please ♪
♪ That... ♪