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.
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...
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.
♪ 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 ♪
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
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.
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!
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
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.
More Scotch!
More Burbon!
Roll again!
Goodness gracious.
We just collapsed the Trust Bridge!
This is the best part of the game!
We all have an opportunity to flex
our growth muscles!
Growth!
Okay good!
While I'm happy you're enjoying the game,
I think you will all appreciate --
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!
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!
Growth!
Do you smell that?
Fire!
My homework.
You're gonna get an A.
Ya, I know.
I got it!
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.
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.
Fuck off.
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?
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 sixteen 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're the 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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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!
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com