Previously on Weeds.
I think I was a bad person.
I don't want to be like that anymore.
Okay. Good for you.
No. Good for all of us.
SEC? I've heard of you guys.
Yeah, you guys have those federal pension plans tied in with our Midday Fund.
If we go down, you go down.
- What are you girls doing? - Packing up.
Going home.
Home? Why?
Because they're getting back together.
Did she say that? She said you were going home?
You can't go. The girls can't go.
I no longer choose to embrace all that you are, Jill.
You no longer have my fucking troth!
I'm not in college. I'm in the Police Academy.
We're criminals. It's the family business.
What the fuck are you doing?
I think I want to be a cop.
Red lines are people who want you dead for revenge.
As you can see, we're mostly red.
She's so great at pissing people off.
Think he'll come back, try and finish what he started?
I don't know. Hope so.
Give me a chance to nail the fucker.
Morning! First day back on dry land?
You need help, or you got it?
I got it. Thanks.
Are you on roller skates?
Yeah.
I'm coaching the twins' derby team.
Their old coach left her family for some Floridian fire dancer,
so I'm stepping UP-
So, Stevie's playing with a flyswatter?
My idea. He's been off of video games
for almost 27 minutes.
Nice work. Hi, Stevie.
There's one over there. He stole my wallet.
Go get him.
Shane left you this.
Wow.
And I got you
these.
Traction socks! So you don't slip.
They say "Power Paws."
I must have grabbed the dog ones. Well...
I will return them.
Target gives you 30 days.
Oh, yeah. This is the receipt drawer now.
Hey! My garlic press!
You hungry? Want me to make you something?
Eggs Florentine'? Osso Buco?
Forget it. Everything tastes like black licorice.
Still?
Bummers of the miracles of the brain.
Anyway, what else? What else?
Your recovery foods are in the crisper.
It's mostly blueberries. WebMD.
I upped the satellite tier from Family Choice to Family Choice Plus Optimum,
the one with the tennis channel.
Mommy, hold still.
Okay, go play-
I think today I'll take by the TV, maybe watch Wimbledon?
Thanks, Jill. This is all...
Good work.
You made nice.
Also,
Andy and I are at the room at the top of the stairs.
In the same room together, the two of us.
Yeah. That's a thing.
That's us, outed.
Nance? Do you hear me?
Nance? Nance!
Mom?
Oh, shit.
I think the bullet's moving.
Where's Shane?
Unfortunately for my retirement,
shares of your hedge fund couldn't buy me lunch with a dented hooker.
What are you talking about? This is a healthy fund.
We're looking at emerging markets.
Too many words.
Your fund's a sinking shit-stone.
Your shareholders might not be able to add and subtract,
but this is the SEC,
so you cannot burn my toast and tell me it's Jesus!
Plan A, you're fired, he's fired,
but we don't prosecute.
You sign the fund over to us,
we find new leadership and sell 51 percent to China.
Plan B?
We all go down holding hands.
What kind of severance you offering?
You can keep your dicks.
Where do I sign?
I gave 18 years to this place.
This is bullshit!
Yes, Whit. It is all caca bullshit.
Right, Melnick?
See, all my life, I wanted to be one of the big boys.
Buffett, Icahn, Wilson.
And now here I am, top of the pyramid,
but what I thought was a game of finesse turns out to be
one endless ass-to-mouth human centipede of government and business
that's gonna suck this country back to the stone age.
My lips are chapped. My asshole burns.
You want to sell our corpse to Charlie Chan?
You be my guest. I'm out of the game.
You coming, Whit?
Dude, I'm renovating my kitchen!
Whit Tillerman.
Wait a minute! What...
No, no, no, we're good. We're good.
Chin up, Tillerman.
Nothing like a good cry after a tough shit.
What just happened? Did you just...
- Am I on food stamps? - Fuck no.
You wait 30 seconds and then get your coat.
It looks like he Netflixed a docu-series about these two surfers
who cut themselves and then fuck underwater
in a cage surrounded by sharks
called Bloodfuckers.
Then he Google-mapped an address in Pennsylvania Dutch Country.
Okay, okay. It's ringing.
Tell me what's going on already.
Your brother is going after the shooter.
The shooter who shot me, whoever that is.
Well,
at least he has training.
What?
He sort of joined the Police Academy.
Okay, everybody needs to stop keeping things from me that I need to know.
I am not a cantaloupe.
My point is, he has acquired some new skills.
What, like what'? Does he have a gun?
Tim Scottson. Isn't that Peter's kid?
You got to be kidding me.
Print that address.
You're driving.
Let's go, Witches!
Okay, ladies, friendly reminder.
Observe the oval, the egg, l'oeuf, love.
The French call the egg love, so shall we.
Embody that spirit. Keep it clean.
Elbows tucked.
A lot of moms out there.
Oh, come on!
Slit their throats and break their hearts!
Teamwork, heavy eye contact, good judgment.
We want blood! Come on!
Is he drunk?
No. Just competitive.
- Jill. - Scott.
Didn't think you'd be here.
Didn't think you'd fuck a guy in the middle of my commitment pledge.
Our old coach had a wooden nickel we could rub for good luck.
And then she resigned in shame.
Okay, bring it in.
Dap. Dap. Dap. Dap.
Dread Menace, looking at you for some leadership.
You, too, Shay-la-Vie, AbracaDebra.
You shat on my troth.
It was a nice troth.
But you had your India.
Andy's my India.
And I'm sure he's a great lay,
but he's not stealing my kids.
Players to their marks.
Bring the pain! Let's go!
Dread Menace!
That's my girl!
My hair tie!
Next time, I take your tampon!
- Coach! - Yeah. Gotcha.
Take a seat, Dread Menace. You're too rough.
You call that rough? That was a valentine.
Come on, coach! You can't bench the Dread! Who's gonna block'?
Bad coaching decision! Bad coaching decision!
Come on!
Take a seat.
Our old coach would have let her back in.
Fine.
Sit out your penalty. I'll give you one more chance.
Yeah, that's my girl!
Nice!
Dread Menace!
Okay, now you're done.
Tim Scottson, little red-headed twerp.
He wasn't even on my list.
- I had Guillermo. - Guillermo. Guillermo.
I had Guillermo, too.
Hey, A&W Restaurant up ahead.
Root beer from the tap.
Yeah, we're not stopping.
Come on. It'll take 10 minutes.
Silas, your brother is about to kill someone...
...else.
He's not gonna kill him.
Too smart for that.
Torture, maybe.
Medieval shit. Spanish Donkey, Judas Cradle.
I'm just saying, maybe this kid deserves 10 minutes with Shane.
He fucking shot you.
Well, the bad news is, we lost the bout.
The good news is everyone gets half a donut.
You should've let her play.
Now we're under 500.
Good bye, playoffs.
Hello, failure.
It's just a game.
There are no games where we come from.
You come from Oakland.
We come from just south of Oakland!
Hell? Maybe you've heard of it?
Hey, hey. Who wants to hit the diner?
Enterprise upgraded me to a Sebring.
- shotgun! - shotgun!
Mom, you coming?
Nah, I'm gonna hang back with Andy.
You guys go-
They're sweet.
You'll get them next time.
You're great with the girls. Really.
Our old coach made us popsicles out of Hi-C fruit punch.
Was your mom the old coach?
- Hi. - Hi.
Can I help you or...
Yeah, we're old friends of Tim's,
and we were just passing through on our way to Gettysburg,
and we were just...
Is he here, Tim? Timmy? Timothy?
I'm afraid not, but he should be back soon. I'm Tula.
- Nancy. - Mike.
Do you... Do you guys want to come in?
I mean, he should be back from work any minute.
I have water.
So...
What's that smell? Are you baking a pie?
I don't think so.
So, how did you two meet?
Well, he saved me from the rape barn, back when it was still made of wood.
Did you see this? This was Tim's dad's.
Tim lost him at an early age.
So sorry to hear that.
Yeah. That'll mess a kid up.
I know. He's lucky he turned out so fine.
His mom, though, she's a psycho.
Tim sure has a lot of shoes.
Those aren't shoes. Those are his rabbits.
Well, they were when they were alive.
I told him they shouldn't bake in the sun like that,
but, you know, he's not a listener.
There's 12. They're all named Peter.
Just don't pet them.
He... He doesn't like that.
He named them all Peter?
You know, like Peter the Rabbit?
Hold, please. Need rest.
Has anyone been around today?
Anyone at all? Someone named Shane?
Well, no. No, not that I can say.
Although one of Timothy's new friends stopped by earlier
to go hunting with him.
I let him borrow Tim's gun.
That's weird.
That is weird.
Tim's gun.
Project Runway.
Anyway, it's deer season and he promised me the rib meat.
So, this guy that came by, you don't know him at all?
Well, he just looked like all of Tim's other non-albino friends.
You know, kind of shifty, quiet,
dead eyes, trustworthy.
I'm sorry. What time did you say it was?
It's strange. He should be home by now. He's never late.
I think we should get going.
How did you say that you knew Timothy again?
He shot her in the head.
Silas!
Tried to kill her two months ago.
Come on, Mom.
I don't know if I can do this anymore.
Where'd you say he worked again?
Sorry I benched you.
Sorry we lost.
What is this?
My mea culpa.
Limited-edition copy of roller girl cinematic opus, Kansas City Bomber.
Turn it over, it's signed.
"Dear Taylor, follow your dreams, be nice to Andy.
"He's not trying to replace your father.
"Raquel Welch."
What? What's the matter?
I'm not Taylor. I'm Shayla.
No dreadlock.
Taylor's in the kitchen.
Wow.
You're both feeling kind of dark today, huh?
What you making there, number two?
I'm baking your shoes.
What?
When we lose, we burn your shoes.
- When we lose, we burn your shoes. - When we lose, we burn your shoes.
Shit, shit! Shayla, where'd your mother move the oven mitts to?
I'm not Shayla. I'm Taylor.
Well, who's who? I can't tell. Who's the good twin?
I am.
Not cool! Not cool!
I have eight toes!
Footwear is super-selective for me!
Hey. Here's 50 bucks.
Take them to Claire's at the mall.
Buy them earrings or something.
Just buy their love.
You're Andy. You can do this.
Okay. I'm on it.
Six-inch or foot...
Long?
Just make me a sandwich.
You're supposed to tell her about the specials, Timmy.
- You get a... - Louder?
You're not going home until you get this right.
You get a free medium soda if you buy any two flatbreads.
- What kind of meat? - Doesn't matter.
Turkey. Can't taste anything anyway.
- Veggies'? - Load me up.
Is that how we do lettuce, Scottson?
Cheese?
Whatever.
Avocado?
You're supposed to let them know that's extra.
Will you shut up'? He's trying.
- Do you want the avocado? - No, move on.
Light sauce or full flavor?
Surprise me.
That'll be $4.95.
Get in my car before I call your mother.
Come on, man, give me a hint.
Another hedge fund? Private equity? Are we starting our own firm?
Nah, that's chump change.
You're thinking like a mouse. Think like a king.
Hello, Mr. Doug.
Hola, Miguel.
It's Maria.
I don't know, man. I give up.
After you.
Push the red blinking light.
Hello. You have reached the Douglas S. Wilson Foundation,
a 501-C-3 nonprofit organization.
We're starting a charity? That does what?
I don't know. But last week, Vehement donated a buttload of money to it.
Holy shit.
Charities?
Yes!
My brother took your gun and we don't know where he is
and he's killed before.
So if I were you, I would keep your head below the windows.
Shane? It's Mom!
Can we talk before you do something incredibly stupid?
Hey, check this out.
Bitches be crazy, huh?
I need some air.
Okay-
Why are you here?
I'm a sandwich artist.
You are a 19-year-old from Agrestic, California.
You should be in college.
This is freak town.
What are you doing here? You're supposed to be dead.
Or at least vegetative.
Yeah, well, I'm a walking miracle.
And I'm trying to protect you.
I can take care of myself.
My dad taught me independence.
Oh, no, wait.
He ended up in a drain pipe.
I heard that.
You know, I hope one day someone gives you some fresh roses
and you sneeze
and the bullet in your brain moves an eighth-inch to the right
and you see blue and you smell cheese and you die.
Your father was a complicated man.
He was a hero.
I didn't even kill him.
It was the Armenians and Heylia. Do your homework.
You can't even say you're sorry!
What are you doing?
Get out of the car.
No, that rifle has a half a mile range on it.
Okay. All right, all right.
Look, you need to fix your life.
It sucks you had to grow up without a dad,
but that is not an excuse to act like a psychopath.
Are you listening, Shane?
Shooting me did not solve your problems.
Please! I have a girlfriend.
About that, I told her about the assassination attempt.
She was pretty mad. She might not be there anymore.
I need to get home.
You have to pay attention, okay?
I can't be responsible for another messed-up kid.
The door, please, open.
Bury the rabbits.
Pack up your car.
Stop fucking the Amish.
Become a nutritionist, okay?
These are my conditions.
Then you can get back in the car,
we can talk about how to fix this, okay?
- Okay. - All right.
Can I borrow some gas money?
If you give me a hug.
Bitch.
Yeah, well.
- Andy! - What the fuck are you doing?
What the fuck is he doing here?
You were supposed to take them to the mall!
Balls! Balls to the mall!
- What's on your feet? - Dog socks.
Textured socks for dogs.
- Why? - I'm supposed to return those!
You won't even notice it, sewing it right back in.
What the heck you doing to my kid?
Please. She started it.
Don't cut my kid's hair. It's her hair.
What's with all the hostility?
Did you learn nothing in India?
- Scott! - Dad, break his face!
Yeah! We want blood!
No, we don't!
Come on, he's not gonna fight.
L'oeuf. The egg.
The French egg.
Dad, make a fist! Don't you know how to punch?
Andy, hit him in the face!
No! No face!
- Fucker! - You're slapping!
Geez, Dad, you got sand in your pooter?
- Hey! No pooter! - Oh, God!
What are you doing?
Don't throw.
- Hey, hey! - We hate you both!
- Girls, I am trying, okay? - You ungrateful little shits.
- Yes, I admit it. - You think the Sebring was for me?
- I forged the signature... - Wrong.
Do you think you're the reason we're separated?
- ...but come on. It's Raquel Welch. - Guess what'? You're right.
- What did you expect? - But this divorce does not give you
- What am I to her? Like she'd respond - the carte blanche to wear black eye shadow
- if I just put it in the regular mail. - and give up your virginity to ethnics!
You know what? I'm glad he cut off that filthy little rat tail!
- Scott? - I've been to Mumbai, just got back,
and little girls over there are selling their hair for money
and then pooping in the river!
Do you even hear what you're saying?
No, you know what? I'm not even close to done, Jill!
- You think we wanted twins? - Scott!
We wanted one kid, uno!
You know what I said when I saw the sonogram?
"Screw this. Let's abort and get a boat."
I am saying very horrible things.
This isn't me.
Twins, I apologize.
I gotta go back to Calcutta and get away from all this crap.
You'll hear from my lawyer, Jill.
I'll be back in the fall.
In the meantime, girls,
listen to Andy.
Go to your room.
She left us, Peter, Peter,
Peter, Peter, Peter...
You're welcome.
Tim, pack up what you need and go straight to California.
Come on. No stopping.
Did it hurt, getting shot?
I don't really remember, honey.
I'm just trying to prepare myself.
They have really good doctors now. Come on. Let's go.
Go in the bathroom. Go in the bathroom! Go! Go! Go!
Great, she took her fucking toothbrush.
- Where is he? - Shane?
Jesus, this place makes my shack look like the Taj Mahal.
Yeah, go ahead.
Mr. Scottson, we have a warrant.
The state of Connecticut is placing you under arrest
for the attempted murder of Nancy Botwin.
This is Sergeant Jensen, OSPD, arresting officer,
and Officer Thurgood Notgood, local jurisdiction.
He didn't do it. He didn't.
He has an alibi.
Ask his girlfriend.
He was baking his girlfriend a pie.
We have the gun and the shell casings and guess what?
The carpet matched the drapes.
You found my pubic hair?
I'm not pressing charges.
Anything above manslaughter goes straight to the DA. It's not your call.
Ma'am, step aside, please.
It's okay.
Ma'am, please.
You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney.
Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.
These kids, they make one mistake, and it follows them their whole lives.
If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.
Hey.
Smile, Mom.
He's trying to impress you.
What's with all the cops?
Drive, Larry. Drive!