Previously on Weeds...
I'm gonna do that. With weed.
Put it in a fancy box.
Sell it for a lot of money.
Hi. I'm Maxeen, the artist.
We're polyamorous.
And I don't want to leave her alone.
Hey, Charles.
If you're receiving this call, that means two things.
One, I am dead. And two,
you're invited to my funeral.
Wednesday, Edenwald Cemetery, 1 PM.
You have done nothing but make my life here thoroughly unpleasant.
Picking on the weakest...
That's why I do those things, feelings.
- Roll up your window. - What?
Oh, my God. We're getting mugged by Sarah Palin.
We're being jacked.
Fuck you!
You okay?
You said you wanted to teach Silas a lesson.
- You didn't. - My boys did.
You need to send it all back.
Silas was never involved in the Pouncy House.
His mother just wanted the competition gone and you did that for her.
That's our database.
You and mom can go fuck yourselves.
Nancy only cares about her business and herself. And one other thing.
How's my baby boy?
I'm glad you called.
You're doing the right thing, by the way.
Sync & corrected by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
Hey, Nance. See you got my text.
I'm just emailing myself a few files.
I'm loving your new office.
Mom sent armed hitmen to jack my weed.
Silas, she's your mother.
My mother -- my mother...
will not let me be my own person.
Why do you need her permission for that?
Because! She --
No, I don't.
I don't need her permission. But...
She...
Um...
You fucked up.
Fuck! I fucked up.
Okay, deep breaths.
Look...
Jill's a vaguely reasonable adult, right?
I'm sure she and Nancy
can come to a vaguely peaceful understanding.
Talk it out, you know? Like sisters.
No fucking way! Go fuck yourself!
Take off my fucking shoes!
You look ridiculous.
Lumbering ass.
You lumber! And you're an ass!
Well, you can kiss my ass, drug dealer.
Sign the fucking custody papers
so I can go to that High Line Park
and watch people screw in the hotel windows.
That's pathetic!
Yeah, maybe, a little.
But the point is, I win, you lose,
thanks to your angry offspring.
Oh, I like the little green boxes, by the way.
That's a nice touch.
Thanks.
Oh, I ordered deli.
I mean, you can't not when you're in New York, right?
Oh, by all means, eat up.
At least that way I know my dresses are safe.
Leaving your doors open in the big, bad city.
Aren't we feeling all safe and secure.
Are we being home-invasion robbed?
Who the fuck are you? I'm her sister.
Should have known by the shoes.
- They're mine. - I'm keeping them.
No, you're not!
Where the fuck are my drugs?
Holy shit.
You got it all back.
- The fuck I did. - Uh, wait a minute.
You were supposed to get them all back.
Can you please...
Just tell him to stop waving that thing in my face?
Maybe aim at the stomach, Pierre,
so she goes slow.
"Pierre." Seriously?
My mama's a francophile, bitch.
Bonjour.
You know why she's here?
She's blackmailing me to get custody of my son!
Nancy Botwin, I don't give a shit
about your drama no more.
Get my drugs.
Bring them to the hospital by 5:00 tonight,
or I will hunt you down and kill you.
And I won't look back.
You know I'm good for it.
I had no idea your life was this exciting.
I feel sick. Fuck.
I didn't think this through.
Well, well...
Well, that's what we do. We fuck up.
Then we try to fix it. Then we fuck up some more.
And we do it the most with our family,
'cause that's the safest place to practice.
But that's the shit that makes you a man.
That and your haftorah.
So, I...don't know what I'm gonna do.
What am I supposed to do?
Want to go to a funeral with me?
Where are we going?
Queens.
The drugs are in Queens?
Will you shut up?
You want me out of your hair, you know what to do.
And you're gonna do it one way or another.
I'm not bullshitting. I took photos.
That angry black lady -- she'll testify for me.
She hates your ass.
Pierre's on my side, too. I can feel it.
If you don't sign, I will send you back to jail.
So, then I'll get custody anyway.
That's exactly what you want.
Another 14 years of motherhood
so you can have an extension on your lame excuse
for not living.
I happen to like my life. Thank you.
I mean, I might not have
black people barging into my house
and holding me at gunpoint every day...
I'll bet you don't even know a black person.
Oh, and you can really count on those two
as being your friends.
You're a coward.
You've always been a coward.
Cowards have a funny way of being awarded custody.
Hold my hand.
You know I hate the dark.
Okay. Talk to me. Talk to me.
Uh, this is the part where the lights go out,
and then they come back on,
and we'll still be ourselves, but we've switched bodies.
Ha ha ha. Freaky Wednesday.
Yeah.
Clearly, you would have been the big winner here.
Fuck you, bug eyes.
Fuck you, mustache.
Vehement Capital. Please hold.
Whit, what the hell's going on?
Doug, check your fly.
You didn't answer your phone.
A Deutsche exec vacationing in Bali
bumped into Foster Klein.
Literally.
Klein was drunk and slurring
and talking about his "fuck you" money.
Now word on the street is that Vehement must be toxic.
What asshole disappears on a tourist island?
We got to reach out to our investors,
restore their confidence.
Or else we're looking at a massive sell-off.
I mean, I'm talking about fire sale.
End of days.
We got to put something out there.
Something big, something beautiful
before the Journal nails our ankles
to a couple of Jesus sticks.
Jolene, can I have a word with you in my office?
All right, Chicken Littles! Listen up!
Now, I know you've all heard some rumors.
Rest assured, you got nothing to worry about.
People, listen, we are all over this.
Okay? So get back to work. Come on.
Bring in the money!
You shut up.
Stay the fuck out of the way.
I swear to God, I'll have them
stuff a grenade up your ass and pull the pin.
Is he cute? Totally.
He has the biggest...
That's not him, though. Hi.
Is Demetri here?
Demetri?
Demetri!
Uh...Where is he?
Where's all the stuff?
He's in the...brig.
What happened? Seriously?
Oh, you're the assholes who jacked the pot.
She called you an asshole. Asshole!
Um... Aah.
Look, I really hate to interrupt
your little hookah dinner party,
but I really just need to grab my pot...
and go.
So, if you'll just tell me where it is,
I'll get it and I'll get out of your hair.
Do her. Don't do her.
Oh, yeah.
Do her. Don't do her.
Oh, no. I lost the rape contest.
Do her...
Don't do her.
No. No, no, no, no.
Do her...
Do her.
Yeah!
That's good.
She's never gonna forgive me.
First things first, you need to apologize.
The good lord and creator made us fallible creatures.
And who knows? Maybe it'll all be fine.
Maybe she won't lose Stevie.
She'll probably lose Stevie.
But she'd kill Jill first.
Maybe she'd have Shane do it.
Actually, it's good we're here.
This is a good alibi. Make sure people see us.
Death, yes. I get it.
Bravo.
Today we are gathered
to celebrate the life of Charles Van Der Elst.
Our delight.
Wait. What if I dig up dirt on aunt Jill?
Then it'd be a fair fight.
Unless Jill's a heroin smuggler,
it's never gonna be a fair fight.
Maybe I should leave town.
...Humble, devoted to family and home.
Oh, that's her. But he was a man
devoted to higher social beliefs.
Who?
Maxeen!
Of course she's up there
dancing some surrealist masked death dance.
Huh. She's put on a little weight.
She's pregnant.
What?
Some guy named Lanny.
They're raising the kid with Charles' daughter,
the daughter's lover, and their adopted African child.
That is delightfully unconventional.
Hey. It's a family, right?
Yes, it is.
H-how exactly do you know all this?
I'm her therapist.
...A lean man, strong.
Is she the one that got away?
Mnh-mnh.
...A man in harmony with his beliefs.
Charles was.
He had it figured out.
The only thing that was important to him
was the happiness of the people he loved.
And he had a mini fridge right by the bed.
Man was a visionary.
Or a possible diabetic.
I prefer to believe visionary.
Sounds a lot like you.
My blood sugar's -- Oh, I see what you mean, yeah.
Well...
A lot of good it's doing me.
'Cause my family's -- our family's...
Breaking apart.
...For he was deeply tanned.
I would not do you.
Okay.
I would not do you.
I would definitely...
not do you.
This game sucks.
You know what else sucks,
is that you told me he'd be back at 5:00,
and I'm still waiting.
5 to 10. Okay. I'll keep waiting.
Years. He got busted.
Stealing, like, cases of lobster tails.
Did they take the weed?
Does it look like they took the weed?!
He asked us to clear out the apartment
in case the place got searched.
Okay, fine, um...could you...
Give me the weed, and then I'll clear that out for you?
Nah, that's not gonna work.
'Cause we're still smoking it.
And we don't know who the fuck you are.
And we still want to do you.
Which one?
It's my weed! He had you jack it for me.
He told us to jack it for his partner.
That's me. I'm his partner.
You're a girl. She could be a girl cop.
Girl cops only give tickets.
Charlie's Angels were girl cops.
No. They were detectives.
The guy talking to them from the box was a cop.
All right. All right, look.
Girls cops, I'm sorry, we're still gonna have to fuck you up.
Barry, get the nunchucks.
You guys have no idea who you're dealing with.
My sister is married to the king
of a Mexican crime gang.
She was in jail!
She's killed... what? How many men, Nance?
Jill, shut the fuck up.
They don't believe me.
Show them your trashy jail tattoo.
Ow. Quit it!
That doesn't look Mexican.
No, that looks like the one on that chick from the video.
Video? Video?
Holy shit. She's the chick from the video.
The one with the traffic-sign thing on her ass, too, right?
That son of a bitch.
Another quality choice of lover, Nance.
Do you guys have that video, by the way?
Sorry we didn't believe you. We couldn't see your face.
I could have swore you were Chinese.
All dark hair and skinny.
Yeah. Can I have my pot now?
If you are who you say you are,
we would...need to see your ass.
Mm-hmm.
To be sure. Yep.
Oh.
All class.
There it is.
Oh, definitely do her.
Can I have my pot now, please?
It's right behind you in the gorilla.
God bless you.
What is that stench?
It's Drakkar Noir. It's to cover the smell.
Oh, it's giving me flashbacks to seventh grade.
Jeremy Black... played with my nipples...
in Ilyse Horowitz's closet.
I am so stoned.
You're still keeping up appearances, huh, Botwin?
"Dostoevsky and the Principles of Criminal Liability."
You look like shit. Do I?
Yeah, I had a pretty rough night. I couldn't sleep.
A lot of dark thoughts clawing at me.
One point, I got up and starting beating the shit
out of a radiator.
But that didn't work really good.
Misplaced aggression.
Well, what...happened?
Was it about Billy? Billy?
You know, that was a brilliant fucking move on your part,
softening me up like that,
using my own son to distract me.
Which worked...
long enough for him to let me know how much of an asshole
he thinks that I am.
I know what you did, kid.
You sat in my office for six weeks
and acted like some fucking eager protégée,
gaining my trust,
letting me feel that there was still a glint of hope
in this godforsaken, cynical fucking planet.
But then...then,
you and your middle-class, petty-criminal fucking mother
pull a one-two punch of such brilliant theatrics,
such heights of Shakespearean duplicity
that I go and take down
a fucking low-level bunch of college grads
so you can protect your family's fucking pot business!
Hi.
What the fuck do you want?!
My paper --
Get the fuck out of here! Fucking asshole.
I'm sorry.
You're not sorry. That's the problem.
You got some internal valve inside you, kid,
and it's turned off.
You're not sorry. You're smug.
Entitled.
You feel like you're above the laws
of human functioning society.
Pouncy House was going down anyway, right?
We just expedited the process.
You want to be some fuckwit criminal, be my guest.
But know this.
I'm gonna make your life a living hell.
You and that equally smug,
entitled fuckwit mother of yours.
She's not a fuckwit.
She's a drug dealer!
Who used the New York City Police Department
for her own personal muscle!
It was my idea -- the bust -- not hers.
Stop trying to protect her.
Why don't you just tell me what I can do,
and I'll do it.
No.
You're done.
I'm gonna march down to that drug den
you call a home,
and I'm gonna slap cuffs on Lady Botwin,
so help me God.
Wait! Wait, I can give you something you want! Wait!!
You got something I want?
What the fuck do you have that I want?
You tell me what the fuck you have that I want.
It's a pancho. And...
So, I hope all of this makes up for the missing ounce.
I'll also send you money in the mail.
And your car is being fixed right now.
And, Dean, I'm so sorry.
It's okay.
Just a few broken ribs...
A slight concussion, and some internal bleeding.
While they were in there,
they found a mass behind my pancreas,
which they think is benign.
Fingers crossed.
What is that smell?
Drakkar Noir.
Get out.
Heylia, it was all a big misunderstanding.
None of it was Silas' fault. Please don't cut him off.
I learned that you and your son are one and the same.
And I want nothing to do with either of you.
No. No, not anymore. He's on his own.
He's responsible for making his own decisions,
and he...he needs you.
What he needs is to get out of this damn, stank-ass city.
Ain't a boy on this planet that don't need something green.
You should have seen him working that field.
The smile on his face...
...was something you'll probably never see again.
We're having our best year ever.
And you're vouching for this?
S.E.C. has looked at the books.
Vehement is solid.
Record profits.
Widening portfolios.
And we got the thumbs up from the S.E.C.
What more do you want?
All right, guys. We'll get the word out.
It should be in print tomorrow,
online tonight. Thank you, Wally.
Bye, now.
You keep this fucking ship afloat, Jolene.
I'm not a favor machine.
Next time, think of something
that doesn't involve me sucking Journal cock.
Won't happen again. Thanks, boss.
Let's go celebrate.
There's a craft fair at the Javits Center.
We could grab dinner afterwards.
Well, whit and I were gonna go hit some titty bars.
But you go do your craft thing.
Buy me a wool cap if you see one.
For when it gets cold.
Nothing scratchy. Cashmere.
Something fit for a CFO.
CFO?
That's a promotion, right?
Damn right.
You are gonna have so much money.
Come here.
Wait. Hold on.
Slow down, you guys.
Now, this article bought you a few weeks.
A month, tops.
But eventually, someone in this firm is going to have to admit
to certain improprieties.
And they're going to have to take the fall.
Rick.
Sorry. He's not top brass.
It's going to have to be one of you two.
I'll let you know.
Got to say -- great day. Full of excitement.
Much better than the high line.
Do you think I should get half-price tickets
to "Book of Mormon"?
I'm still smelling Drakkar Noir everywhere.
Is that what you took away from today?
Really? Excitement?
Uh, we were held at gunpoint,
my son betrayed me, we were almost gang-raped.
Really? That's exciting to you?
Fuck, yes.
If I were home right now,
I'd be scrubbing out the inside of a microwave.
All I ever hear from you, how much you hate your life,
how awful it is to clean mud out of cleats,
how terrible it is to stay in a marriage
for the sake of the children.
What kids have done to your tits,
your life, your libido, your freedom.
Why do you want my little albatross
adding to the crushing weight of it?
Because I love him.
Really? Yeah.
- Really? - I've been raising him since he was 10 months old.
I have fed him and bathed his balls
and read him Boynton books until my eyes have bled.
You birthed him, but I'm his mom.
And he's happy.
And while I admit I derive pleasure from torturing you
because you fucking deserve it
and I have been cleaning up your messes
and doing your caretaking for fucking ever,
the truth is, at the bottom of all this shit,
is Stevie is better off.
And you knew that, and that's why you sent him to me.
He's better off with you?
A miserable woman who hates her life?
You made him cry with that Waldorf bullshit.
Your daughters are freaky! You sleep half the day!
He's better off with you?!
Oh, yeah, judge my mere mortal existence.
My daughters are freaky? Fuck you!
Wake the fuck up!
How do you think Stevie's gonna turn out if he goes with you?
I'm getting a do-over! I'm making it count!
Oh, you're getting a do-over!
Oh, why don't I get a fucking do-over?
I never get a fucking do-over. Ohh.
Somewhere the fates decided
that Jill gets responsibility in this life
while Nancy's free to have adventures
and do-overs!
Here we go! Martyr!
Okay, you're gonna show up at the gymboree class
with your hoochie dresses
and a gun jammed into your purse,
tote-full of marijuana, fuck strangers upside down,
sideways, every which way,
and a toddler wander in at 3:00 A.M.
Wet with pee!
- You'd love it if I died on the vine, just like you, right? - Right.
Because you're all ready to put on an apron
and bake cookies,
and I'm all ready to shorten my skirt
and sling weed,
and fuck every colored cock on the ethnic rainbow.
Mustache.
Bug eyes.
Jill, Nancy, both here.
Uh, no one's bleeding.
How's it going with the... custody thing?
Stalemate. It's not a stalemate, Nance!
I hold every fucking card in the deck.
Today was fun, but I'm not giving up my son.
It's not your fucking son! He's my son!
Okay. I was afraid of this.
Uh...Jill, would you come with me?
I'm not gonna fuck you, Andy.
Good to know, but that's not where this is going.
I'm sorry.
I was angry.
I know the feeling.
Are you happy here?
In the city?
What's it gonna take? Hmm?
What do you want?
I want my son.
What else do you want?
I don't want anything else.
I'm not your sister.
I've been inside you.
I know you know.
Getting Stevie is not gonna be the answer to your problems
or make you happy, so...
What do you want, Jill?
Tell Andy.
Impromptu family meeting. Major announcement.
Major discussions.
Might be unconventional, but, uh, I have an idea.
It's for you.
To grow and to do what you love.
I'm not saying you have to live here.
God knows there's not even a whole lot of room left,
and you're an adult.
I want you to have your own life.
But...
It's here for you.
It's great.
Don't play with it.
Cadets!
Every day in this city,
over 300 people are mugged, beaten, or raped...
2,000 pounds of drugs are sold on the streets of New York.
When you graduate from this police academy,
you will be the first line of defense.
Sorry I'm late.
Art History ran over.
And, girls, I don't want any problems from you.
You will eat.
You will eat this if I have to liquify it
and feed it to you through a tube.
Anorexics have hair that grows on their backs.
You want that?
Mama, mommy's trying to talk.
Oh, I'm sorry, babe.
Uh...
The spirit of compromise.
Everyone's a little happy, everyone's a little miserable.
It's family.
Um...Andy...
You're a man of big ideas,
some crackpot, others brilliant.
Big-hearted.
We celebrate the closing of escrow on this,
the Botwin-Price-Gray family compound,
with significant contributions from the Wilson fund.
An experiment, to be sure,
but really...the only solution.
May we not kill one another?
What?
Shayla!
I swear to God.
That was a big red dot.
Whoo!