Advertise your product or brand here contact www.OpenSubtitles.org today
WD-40, Mother.
Costs like, a nickel.
Or maybe you could swallow your pride and just apologize to your super.
Oh, and to me, for ruining my Friday night, which is now being spent here.
So what, why the frantic phone call?
Hello?
Malory? Why did you call us?
Because if it was -- oh.
I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume it had something to do with that.
It's not what it looks like.
Oh, well that's a relief.
Because it looks like you're sitting here with a gun.
And over there, strapped to a chair and shot to death,
is a guy in a full-body latex catsuit!
Or am I misreading the situation?!
Well... technically it's a zentai.
Wh-...?!
A zentai covers the face and head.
- I think a catsuit just stops here... - Give me that.
I didn't shoot him.
So, you're saying the fact that your gun has recently been fired, is --
-- is unrelated to the dead guy over there,
who's chock full of bullets!
- Well, obviously they're related... - Yeah, do that,
take that tone.
But I swear, I didn't shoot him!
Okay.
So I guess he walked in here already shot, obviously panicking,
so you had to restrain him with these leather cuffs,
and then to keep pressure on the wounds you greased him up
- and squeezed him into this... - Zentai!
And of course not, you ass!
Someone broke in here and shot him!
Okay, Malory?
Well, unless it was the creepy-old people-bondage-sex police,
why would anyone break in here and shoot him?!
No answer?
Okay, let's ask him!
Ho-lee shit.
Because he's Savio Mascalzone.
- Um... - Oh for -- the prime minister of Italy?
The what?!
And wait, doesn't Italy use a king?
Wh-?
No, they don't "use a king!"
What year do you think this is?
I -- yeah, exactly, good question.
- And uh, speaking of questions... - No no no, don't --
what're you -- don't go back there, Sterling, I-- I have a question!
Mother!
Why does this chair have no seat!
And what!
Is in his ass?!
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
Mother!
What is in this man's ass?!
Oh please, don't act like you've never seen a... "marital aid" before.
Not in a dead prime minister's ass!
And you don't have to keep repeating it!
We've established where it is!
Yeah so, you wanna move on to why?
Wait, not why that!
Why he's here!
Savio and I met after the war, when I was in Italy with Gladio.
Who's that, his brother?!
No, it -- Ewwwww!
Are you finished?
Hang on, ew, now I'm done.
Operation Gladio.
It was a NATO stay-behind mission, set up to counter a possible Soviet invasion
of Western Europe.
But then it sort of turned into this whole weird cryptofascist CIA
shitshow, starring Allen Dulles and a bunch of former Nazis.
Thanks, Holly Hindsight.
Anyway, Savio was in Italian intelligence-- Rimshot.
-- shut up, and we were working all these late nights,
there was a mutual attraction, one thing led to another...
- Please skip ahead... - And then he got married
and went into politics.
But ever since then, once a year he'd slip away and
we'd spend a romantic weekend together.
Well, you nailed it!
I mean, if this doesn't just scream romance...!
- Archer... - What, Lana?!
What's more romantic than a dildo-party-slash-murder?!
A murder I'm trying to get a handle on, so could you shut up a second?!
And he wasn't always into that!
You mean vice versa?
Shut up!
As he grew older, Savio's tastes became more and more... exotic.
And so he started introducing all these... accoutrements very gradually.
Well, he'd have to.
Thing's huge.
Ow! Ow!
Okay, okay, I -- okay! God, your hands are like cricket bats.
Shut up.
So Malory, what happened, can you walk us through the crime?
Just the crime of murder, not the crime of sodomy-by-rubber-eggplant.
Savio was in town to give a speech at the UN.
We'd made plans to meet here, so he gave his handlers the slip
and arrived here at about... seven.
We caught up over a glass or two of champagne.
Then I freshened up while Savio got changed and... situated.
- So he put the, uh, in his own... - Yes, hush.
I came out of the bedroom... Savio, sei pronto?
Si, cara mia, molto pronto!
I crossed over to the chair, and tightened his last restraint...
Oho!
Mi fai pazzo con libido!
Then I went to refill my champagne-- Savio loved to be kept waiting --
and then bang!
In burst three men!
Aaaaaghh! Oof!
Che cosa?!
Cara mia, che -- Savio!
Andiamo! Subito!
Wait, whoa, whoa, back up-- Why did you have a gun?!
Hm? Oh, well, Savio liked it to seem a little... dangerous.
You know?
No, Mother, I don't!
Jesus, what else was on tonight's menu?!
Sex under a hive of Africanized bees?!
Archer!
- So, you fired three times... - And missed!
Can you believe it?
No.
Oh, sorry, was that rhetorical?
Lawyer up, call the cops.
What?!
Oh, and hit the throttle on the bourbon, because I'm gonna have to...
I'm gonna have to bust you in the face a couple times.
What are you talking about?!
Self-defense!
It's your only shot!
We gotta uncuff him and... de-dildo him, obviously.
Smash the furniture like he was chasing you around all rapey,
fortunately he's Italian so that shouldn't be too hard a sell, then --
I! Didn't! Shoot him!
On purpose, exactly, the gun just went off.
But you probably wanna play that a lot softer with a jury.
A jury?!
When you don't believe me?!
Mother, come on, I mean I want to believe you...
But those bullet holes don't prove anyone else was ever here.
- Well, maybe those don't... - Puttana!
Ungh!
What?!
You got -- Malory, you got shot!
Yes, I know dear, I was there.
Well, lemme see, take off your coat!
No! I'm fine, it's just a through-and-through.
Mother! Malory!
What, I put Bactine on it!
Mother!
Sterling!
The Italian prime minister was just assassinated in my apartment!
And so I think an apology is in order!
Thanks, I know that's hard for you.
Wh-?
You two owe me an apology!
For what?!
Not believing me!
How about for you dragging us into your S&M--
dildo-sex-murder freak show?!
I -- look -- You look!
I bet I'll never be able to have sex again without thinking about this!
I bet I won't even be able to eat spaghetti and meatballs!
Oh my God.
What? What?
I could eat.
I mean, not necessarily spaghetti and meatballs, but...
Not necessarily not spaghetti and meatballs.
I mean I really like spaghetti and meatballs.
Man if I don't get some spaghetti and meatballs, I may literally die.
- Oh, and thanks so much... - You're welcome.
But you should wait'll you try it, I'm just kinda winging it here.
I meant for dragging me into this.
Still welcome.
So.
We've got dead Italian prime minister in the living room, which --
Sucks, I bet he knew how to make sauce.
Which will be hard to explain.
Especially given the circumstances leading up to his death, which were --
Dildoey.
Unseemly!
- Potato podildo... - So "plausible deniability"
isn't a super-realistic goal here.
So we need to sneak the body out somehow.
Sure, we'll just walk a dead body right out the front door!
Idiot!
What, then?!
Burn the apartment down?!
We're not burning down my apartment!
You sure?
Shut up, I hit broil instead of bake.
Well, blood loss can make you stupid.
Can I please look at your wound?
No!
Nor can you burn down my apartment, so think of something else.
I shall fetch a rug!
Something else!
You're not rolling him up in one of my rugs!
Why not?
Because then what?!
We... get some coveralls, and a van.
Like a carpet cleaning van, and just walk him right out the front door.
You just called me an idiot for that!
Your version didn't have coveralls.
Could we go out through the basement?
No.
We'd have to go past the super's apartment, and his door is always open.
I assume to let the stink of cabbage waft through the halls, but --
So? You think he'd be a problem?
God, yes.
- We're not on the best of terms... - It's just, at Christmas,
the tenants usually gimme a small consideration, for the work I do all yeer
keepin up the bildin.
We surely count on it, ma'am.
Specially this yeer, as we had more'n the usual medical bills.
Your point being?
Just that, fer the tird year runnin... Ya gimme a potato.
Oh dear, so once again you're faced with the classic
"Irishman's Dilemma."
Do I eat the potato now, or let it ferment, so I can drink it later?
Will I get the operation now, Da?
No son... yer gonnaa die.
What is your problem with the Irish?
You mean besides not being on our side in World War Two?
Yeah, besides that.
Wait, seriously?
They were Nazis?!
No.
- Not Japanese... - Neutral!
And now, since I don't wanna be an accessory after the fact,
how's about we figure out a way to get that body out of the damn apartment?!
Where'd we land on the coveralls thing?
Archer?
Because I don't even know where we'd get coveralls
this time of night, so -- Soooo... if we can't get the body out of
- here in one piece... - Nooope!
What?
Lana, it's the only way.
What is?
No! Malory, I've done some messed up shit working for you, but I am not,
repeat not, chopping up a dead body!
Oh. Ewww! Mother!
What! My God, do you want me to get the electric chair?!
For a murder you both know I didn't commit?!
Malory, I just can't.
Me neither.
Can't?
Or won't.
I -- Whatever, call it her can't, me won't.
No, hey, Mother, c'mon.
Stop that!
Here, here, look!
I'm gonna get help!
From, from who-hoo-hoooo?!
I need access to a two-inch drain, hot water, three GFCI outlets,
this bathroom should do nicely, and a pot of coffee, just like I like my women:
black, bitter, preferably fair trade.
Oh, and your sauce needs less salt.
- How can you -- - Put two halves of a potato in with the sauce,
it'll absorb the salt.
Oh, and I assume that's our patient?
Not ours, Krieger.
Yours.
Thank you.
Ugh, too salty.
Yeah, you got a potato?
What is this, Christmas?
And is Krieger... hard at work?
He literally might be, yeah.
Ew.
Well, say what you will about him-- I did.
he's discreet.
So no one else will ever know about this whole-- Aaaaaaaaaghhhh!
What in the-- Hell is that?!
Hopefully my greatest work yet.
No no no no no!
Whatever this is, I am not getting mixed up in it!
Too late.
Hey whoa, whoa, everybody calm down!
It's not what it looks like!
Well, then, what is it, exactly?!
'Cause it sure as shit ain't a surprise party, Krieger!
Ya big fat liar!
Someone's trying to frame Malory for murdering the prime
minister of Italy.
I bet it's that wicked king!
So?!
Why'd Krieger drag us into it?!
Yes, Krieger!
Why?!
I needed help... disseminating him.
Ewww!
Not what it means.
But it's still pretty gross though.
And brilliant!
When I'm done, each one of us will walk out the front door
- carrying a small parcel... - How small?!
Eh.
Then on our way home, we simply drop the parcels into
seven different trash cans in three different boroughs.
That's... actually pretty smart.
And hopefully, when you look at all the
different drop points on a map, it'll look like a big smiley face.
That's actually pretty gross.
Kind of clever.
Every time!
Every single time we come over here, we have to help you get rid of
a dead body!
Well, you've only been here twice.
Speaking of, why the hell was the prime minister of Italy here?
Don't ask.
And follow up, did those dastardly dagoes kill
him and then dress him up like a big giant penis, or --
Oh God, that reminds me.
Krieger?
Yeah, I found it!
Found what?
Don't ask.
Can I keep it?
Keep what?
Don't ask!
Just get it out of here, please!
- Yeah, take that tone... - I'd like to know this
could possibly get any worse.
Well, for one thing, there's not enough sauce for everybody.
NYPD!
Open up, please?
Jeez it! It's the cops! Oh. Busted.
And-or the police could show up.
Oh for the -- now what do we do?!
Cover your arm up, answer the door, and stall them.
And then. Somebody get me a Number 10 can of tomatoes.
What?
Sorry. Not enough sauce.
NYPD!
C'mon lady, open the door!
Comiiing!
Sorry, I was in the-- kitchen, I'm making spaghetti and --meatballs.
Hi, I'm -- Italian, huh?
That's a coincidence.
Oh, are you Italian, Officer...?
No, and it's Detective. Murphy.
Irish.
That's right.
But we got an anonymous tip that Savio Mascalzone was up here.
Oooh, who's that, some mobster?
Prime minister. Of Italy.
Doesn't Italy use a king?
I wouldn't know.
Somebody dead?
What? Oh!
My bird.
Little Tweetsie.
Uh-huh.
Well, that's another coincidence, 'cause this anonymous tip said
Mascalzone was dead up here.
What?
Oh, for heaven's sake!
Yeah, right here in the living room.
Well, as you can see, there hasn't been a murder in here, my gosh!
Although I guess someone must've spilled a drink.
I have a few dear friends over for a dinner party.
Uh-huh.
Mind if I talk to them?
Heavens, no, of course not, but-- What's in here?
Bathroom?
Uh-huh.
My guests are in here, Detective, but-- What are you doing--
from the left, dear, one serves from the left!
What's gotten into you, Calpurnia?!
My mistake, ma'am.
Well, I should say it is, Calpurnia!
Muthah, your maid is -- oh, hello!
Evening.
- Sorry to disturb your, uh... - Elegant dinnah pahty,
for the most elegant people in all of New Yawk.
Uh-huh.
But we got a tip there'd been a murder up here.
Good heavens, a murder?
Well, apart from this sullen wench murdering good etiquette, owww!
I find the very suggestion laughable.
So, you don't mind if I look around?
Uh, no!
Of course not!
Calpurnia?
May I speak with you in the kitchen?
Certainly.
And I'll let you get back to your-- Elegant
dinnah pahty!
I hate you all so much.
No one cares, Figgis, you were only invited to round out the numbahs.
What, how is this my fault?!
Gee, where to start... oh! The murder?
Oh, I thought you meant that silly French maid costume.
Which makes you look ridiculous.
And why do you even - never mind, I don't even wanna know.
Good, it's none of your beeswax.
Here.
I hope you won't need it, but-- Why would I need...?
- Oh, huh-uh, noop. - Lana!
Malory! I am not!
Killing a-- A perfectly nice dinnah, Calpurnia!
By God, if you were my servant, I'd have you over my knee in a trice!
And Muthah, the constable wishes a word.
He does?
I mean yes?
Yeah, sorry for the intrusion.
That tip musta been a hoax.
I checked out the whole apartment, it's clean.
- No thanks to this one... - Mmmm...?!
Sullen wench.
I mean indubitably Lieutenant.
So then I'll, uh, just be on my way.
It's just, who would call in with a fake tip like that, though, ya know?
I wouldn't be surprised if it was our super, Mr. Herlihy.
He drinks.
Thanks, I'll check on -- oh hey, I never checked this bathroom.
Ya mind?
I -- no, of course not.
Be my guest.
Whew! Oh! Sorry, didn't know anyone was waiting.
But I'd recommend the other bathroom, I mean I did what I could,
but you can only ask so much of a vanilla candle.
Dinner ready?
- My God... - Ugh! Yeah, he really did a number on it.
Might wanna make sure he didn't leave ya an upper decker.
Sorry again for the intrusion, ma'am.
And Herlihy, you said his name was?
Hm? Oh, yes.
Yes, that's right.
Ow! Ow!
Lana, c'mon, I was -- ow!
I'll show you a sullen wench!
Right then.
That snoopy detective is gone, thanks to Dr. Krieger, so --
Krieger?
What about the rest of us?
The rest of you can get out of my clothes, and then out of my house.
But thank you all so much for coming!
Loved it.
Never, never again.
Thanks for dead guy in a box.
Not very elegant.
Oh no, thanks for having us, amazing.
And remember, smiley face! And thank you.
Krieger, wait.
The bathroom, the body, how did you...?
Shhhhh! Shh shh shh shh shhhhhhh.
You don't wanna know.
But you do probably wanna wash your lips now.
Ugh.
Screw you, Archer!
Sullen wench?!
Lana!
C'mon, I was just kidding!
I had to make it look good!
- You had to make it look good... - Well, and also annoy you.
Walther PP, chambered for thirty-two ACP.
What's the magazine capacity?
Uh..gh. Eight.
Eight rounds.
Plus one in the chamber.
For a total... of nine.
Hey thanks, Rainman.
Your point being?
Malory's clip was empty.
But she said she only fired three shots.
Oh my God, so you're saying Mother lured Mascalzone up there...
Greased him into a six-foot manrubber, strapped him to a chair...
Sei pronto?
Si, cara mia, sono molto pronto!
Bene. Anch'io.
Oho!
Mi fai pazzo con libido!
I know dear.
But you have to wait.
Calls us... What?
Mother calm -- I'm on my way!
Don't move.
I'll probably be back.
Then she pulls a gun on him?!
Che cosa?!
What is this?!
A crock of shit!
Because that would mean she called the cops on herself!
Knowing they'd never come back after they searched her apartment.
Which was full of people, and spotless.
Oh my God, do the math, Rainman!
The wall was shot three times... Mascalzone was shot five times!
For a total, wait for it, of eight!
Yeah.
Plus the one in her arm.
Wh-?!
So what, Mother shot herself?!
Oh my God!
Ungh!
Mio dio! Perche?!
Why?
I'll tell you exactly why.
Before I kill you.
Operation Gladio.
Gladio?!
Which would mean Mother's been banging him once a year for like
thirty-five years, and the whole time she's been holding a grudge,
just waiting to... Holy shit.
She killed him.
And got us to dispose of the body.
Ugh. But why?
After all this time?
Well, to be honest, until recently the sex has been
pretty phenomenal -- Grazie.
And I figured, eh, what's the hurry?
But then you started getting... weird.
But why you make la vendetta?
Because one night, all those years ago in Rome,
you and your fascist thugs gunned down a young man in the street.
A beautiful man.
- Blue eyes, full lips, black thick wavy hair... - Perche?
What was his crime?
Well, I wouldn't call speaking out against the rebirtof fascism
a crime.
More of a mistake.
By a beautiful, idealistic young man.
Who may have beenee my son's father.
May have been?!
You don't know?!
Madon'!
Che tipo di puttana sei?!
Che tipo davvero.
Cazzo fascista.
Who knows, it's Malory.
You really wanna know why she killed a guy?
I... do not, no.
Although... I am curious why she wouldn't take off that trenchcoat.
Mm!
Honey, you still got it.
Bow chicka bow bow!
Uh huh huh!
So much of this I never wanna know the answer to.
Okay, how 'bout a slice?
God, what's with me and Italian lately?
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
Support us and become VIP member to remove all ads from www.OpenSubtitles.org