Here. "Oldest person ever shot out of a cannon
into a giant banana cream pie."
Has a nice ring to it. Wouldn't you say?
Frankie, I'm gonna be honest.
When you first explained what we were doing, I wasn't listening.
So, before we shoot anything out of a cannon,
I feel like I should know what's going on.
It's pretty simple. I need a triumphant ending for my life.
And I think a world record would hit the spot.
Oh, good.
Well, look, there's--
There are lots of records we can tackle.
Beard of bees, face of snails.
All kinds of weird shit on your head.
What about the weird shit in my head? Anything there?
Oh, my God, Grace.
Are you... eating?
I need something soothing, damn it.
And these pretzels aren't doing it.
Grace quit the Valivan. She's looking for something to replace it.
Oh, I hear heroin is excellent.
I also know it's excellent.
How many poppy-seed bagels equal one heroin?
Four hundred, but you'll throw up before you get there.
Wait a minute. There was this dish that my mother used to make.
It made me warm and happy.
God, it was comforting.
It was this spicy, red, chicken-y, paprikash-y thing.
-Chicken paprikash? -Can't be.
-Too obvious. -Yes.
Chicken paprikash.
I want my mother's chicken paprikash.
Of course. There it was in front of us the whole time.
I spent some time in Hungary.
Incredible heroin.
Look. Molly lifted her own head.
Look.
Her neck muscles are actually starting to Hulk out.
See that?
Yeah.
You used a laser pointer to show me, remember?
In the video of her gurgling.
You should at least respect the science.
I mean, look. A year ago...
this was my sperm.
Now it's making noises.
It's so noisy that maybe we should take a break from the baby talk.
Okay. I see where you're coming from.
It's that place that hurts my feelings.
I'm sorry, it's...
It seems like our entire lives have been on hold since the incident.
I wish you'd stop referring to my daughter's birth as "the incident."
Look, I just miss you, okay?
I'm starting to wonder if you're capable of getting through a single dinner
without talking about her and just being present.
Here. With me.
Of course I can.
Great.
Because I had a bitch of a day.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just--
I thought of this thing that happened yesterday. At work.
To a co-worker.
-An old lady. -Huh.
Who--? Who was it?
She's new. You don't know her.
She's real old.
-Yeah. -What's her name?
Um, Bellingham.
-Her name is Bellingham? -Bellingham.
Like the town.
In Washington.
-State. -Yeah, I know Bellingham is the baby.
Yeah. Bellingham's the baby.
You know what? Let's do a real date night this weekend.
And I promise I'll focus my attention solely on you.
Now there's the man I refuse to marry.
That's me.
Frankie Bergstein attempting the world record
for fastest recitation of "Yankee Doodle Dandy."
Okay. Three, two, one. Go!
You did it.
Four seconds. That's a new record.
-Yay!
What are you so happy about?
That was the world record for speed-reciting "Yankee Doodle Dandy."
Four seconds.
That was the world record for speed-reciting gibberish.
I don't think anyone here is qualified to judge whether it's coherent.
It's not.
Damn it.
There must be a record I can break.
Well, before you do that, would you try this?
Does it taste like my mother's?
I don't have any idea what your mother's tasted like.
And definitely not.
I'm on my fifth recipe and I can't seem to get it any closer
to the way she made it.
Well, you must know someone who has the recipe.
Oh, my brother, Jeffrey, has it.
But we haven't talked in a couple of decades.
I can't believe that you've been estranged all these years.
I'm sure he's a real bastard who caused their falling out.
No, he's a wonderful guy.
Grace is a real bastard who caused their falling out.
We didn't have a falling out.
It was just one of those things where we didn't speak for a while,
then it's too embarrassing to even talk about it,
so you just wait until one of you hopefully dies.
That's insane.
Take it from someone who's dying next Thursday.
You don't want to leave things unresolved with your brother,
especially when all you had to do was pick up the phone.
You really don't understand WASPs.
Okay. Here's what you do.
I sleep with him...
Well, I think we can all agree that plan is not without merit,
but also not fully realized.
Come on, Grace. Call your brother.
What are you afraid of?
I don't want to get into a whole thing with him.
I just want chicken paprikash.
Maybe you'll get the tastiest paprikash of all:
love.
I've lost the thread.
Am I still sleeping with him?
Oh, good. It's you.
I don't think you've ever said that to me before.
Where's Robert?
Oh, he went to Palm Springs a day early
to set up the rental and go grocery shopping.
-So he's at the outlets? -He's at the outlets.
-What's wrong?
I got the advance Guys and Dolls review from On Stage San Diego.
It's a pan.
-We got trashed. -What?
But Shushman wrote it!
Shushman loves you guys!
Shushman boned us. Hard.
What did he say about Robert?
"The usually reliable Robert Hanson
is unfortunately a shadow of his former self.
Although he said all the right lines,
it was as if he was struggling to remember them.
Mr. Hanson doesn't so much strut across the stage
with Sky-like swagger
as much as he gasps his way to the nearest chair for a rest."
This is going to destroy Robert.
Yes.
He's overly sensitive, even by gay actor standards.
We can't show up in Palm Springs with this review.
Which is why we should stay someplace else with a nice view and no Roberts.
-Peter! -Sol, this is even worse for me.
I did the thing.
-What thing? -The thing I do.
A week before opening night,
I meet Shushman for drinks,
sleep with him, and we get a great review.
What?
You sleep with him for a good review?
You're welcome.
Oh, my God.
The Republicans are right.
Show business is terrible.
Wait...
If you do this every year, why didn't it work this time?
Okay.
So maybe it wasn't my best performance.
I had Thai for lunch.
Thai bloats.
Who knew Shushman would be so discerning?
He's a critic.
His whole job is to be discerning.
We need a plan to fix this.
Kill Shushman?
Too risky.
We're going to kill the review before it ever gets published.
I get it.
I have to sleep with him, but really bring the magic this time.
Go to the gym.
Eat a light lunch. I got this.
No. This isn't an '80s steam room.
I'm talking about blackmail.
I love it. How?
-And... go.
Oh, shit.
Oh. Oh, damn it!
What's happening, Frankie?
It's this fucking arthritis.
I can't break a world record with these hands.
I can barely hold the chopsticks.
It's the world record for eating dumplings we're talking about.
Can't you rally, woman?
I thought I could.
But face it, J-M,
I'm just another old broad with "chopstick hand."
So use a fork.
It's not a big deal.
If I can't use chopsticks, who am I?
Don't you understand? This is about my life.
How could anyone understand that?
I thought I'd lived a big life.
But as it turns out, I never really did anything big.
What are you talking about?
I use the vibrator you invented every night.
And on some of the tougher mornings.
But I never became a famous artist.
And the pot strain named after me turned out to be indica.
And my manifesto was rejected by The New York Times.
You are always gonna be disappointed if all you remember are your failures.
But as you approach the end, you start to wonder who you really are.
And I'm worried that I became the one thing
I never wanted to be: just like everybody else.
Good grief.
You old people are impossible.
Oh, God.
This is a disaster.
He's coming here.
-Who? -My brother.
I told him I'd love to see him sometime
and he didn't get that I was being polite.
I didn't even get a chance to ask for the recipe.
And I'm a stranger to myself. Get over it.
Why don't you get over your thing?
My thing's about to come through that door.
Fine. I'll pull it together.
As long as when we're done,
you agree to work full time on helping me
to achieve immortal greatness in this, the hour of my death.
Yes. Fine. Whatever.
See?
That's nice.
Welcome.
You moved. I love it.
Ehh. I don't.
I was so happy to hear from you.
And relieved that you're not a guy who harbors bad feelings about a review.
Oh. Uh...
Hello. Who are you?
A guy who harbors bad feelings about a review.
And if you insist on publishing your vicious takedown
of my husband's Sky Masterson,
I'm the guy who's gonna tell your editor
about your arrangement with Peter.
What arrangement?
You're sleeping with the director of the productions you review.
Ever hear of a little thing called "journalistic integrity"?
Um, not at On Stage San Diego.
It's owned by Food-n-Things
and free at the grocery store with purchase of sparkling water.
My editor knows about my relationship with Peter.
-He gave me a high-five. -Wait. They already know?
Wait. We have a relationship?
Not a relationship. But you met my mother.
You live with her. We had to walk past her to get to the bedroom.
Hold on. I thought this was a quid pro quo.
How? We had great sex and I still gave him a bad review.
Hold on. We had great sex?
Grace.
God, it was great to hear your voice again.
Oh, it's-- That's the beauty of the phone.
This is good too.
You look wonderful.
Hi, I'm Frankie.
I'm your sister's best friend.
Then you must be a very special person.
-Ehh. -Don't mind her.
She's having a late-life crisis.
I just wanted to leave something behind.
But all I did was carve my initials in a block of ice
on the hottest day in August.
-Jesus. -Can I get you a drink?
Thanks, but actually, I don't drink anymore.
-Oh, boy. -Do you eat food?
I happen to love food.
But right now, I'm just happy to see my sister.
So...
why'd you call after all these years?
I was hungry...
to connect with you again.
-Me too. -Well, I'll leave you to it.
If you catch me lurking, I'm just eavesdropping.
Another hour?
You're already an hour late.
Look, if Brianna catches me with her, she'll kill me.
What? No, no, no, just me.
I don't think she'd murder an infant.
No, I didn't just put emphasis on the word "think."
-Oh, crap. Crap, crap. I gotta go.
Gotta go.
-Hey. Shh.
Here you go. Yeah.
A little... nap.
Just...
Oh, yeah.
Okay, here we are. Yeah.
Babe?
I've got a surprise.
Okay, peanut, stay quiet for your uncle / dad / best friend Barry
and maybe we'll both survive this.
-Hey. -Okay.
Pop quiz. If you could wish for anything right now, what would it be?
A time machine.
Exactly. A return to simpler times.
Let's be honest, we're not parents.
We're youths.
Oh, my God.
Mushrooms.
Let's get weird.
Tonight? I don't think it's a good idea...
for my stomach.
I just ate a bunch of prunes.
You have to suck it up because I've got a plan.
We scarf these ASAP and throw on Leprechaun 2.
Babe. Recreating our second date?
Just reminding you how magical I am.
How can I forget?
We ran after a car for miles 'cause we thought it was a giant Tootsie Roll.
And that can all be ours again.
Mm.
Hey, nerd, grow a pair or I'll dose you like I did last time.
No! No. I mean...
Ha! I'll dose myself.
Uh...
As soon as my stomach settles.
Which usually takes 60 minutes.
What the fuck is this?
Shit.
Uh, that's for one of my figurines.
It's a sleeping bag. I was playing Campground Galactica.
It's...
What's that smell?
Must be the prunes.
No.
It's her.
I can smell her all over you.
-No way.
She's here?
-Oh, my God... -No way!
-Uh... Who? -Where is she?
I know she's here somewhere.
Brianna. Come on.
Bellingham!
Show your face!
I know I've been talking your ear off about my grandkids.
But I swear, the little one just smiles at me...
and fills up my heart.
Yeah.
You know what fills me up?
Chicken paprikash.
Remember the one we always had when we were kids?
-Oh, yeah. -Yeah.
Isn't it amazing how foods from childhood can bring back memories?
Exactly.
And are your memories that it was sautéed until brown?
You know, I used to make it for my wife all the time. She loved it.
I don't think I've made it once since she died.
And did you make it with water or broth?
While she was alive.
I'm so sorry I missed the funeral.
-I'm just sorry you didn't know her. -Oh, me too.
We could've had Mama's paprikash together, and...
We would have seen you adding onions?
Mom didn't make the chicken paprikash. That was Dad's dish.
What?
He made the chicken paprikash?
I thought that's why you wanted to make it. You missed him.
No. What I miss is...
chicken.
I was off it for a while.
And then I wanted to find a really special dish to...
re-enter the world of chicken.
So this has nothing to do with Dad.
Jeffrey, I didn't even know he made it.
Jeez, can't we talk about something besides Dad?
So is this why we haven't spoken for years?
Because you're afraid we'll talk about Dad?
Can't we just, you know, keep it light and friendly?
Recipe-based?
You're my sister. I want to have a real conversation.
But you only want to talk about Dad.
Yes, but it doesn't mean we have to talk about that horrible day at the beach.
Well, it overwhelms everything.
I just want to know more about him. I was 4 years old when he died.
-I have no memory of him. -Well, then you're lucky, Jeffrey.
You didn't have to go through that. Count your blessings.
I'm sorry if I don't consider it lucky never to have known my father.
You also didn't have to see the person you loved the most in the world
disappear into the water and never come back.
Holy breakthrough!
But if you did enjoy the sex, why did you give us such a bad review?
I didn't like the play.
Why is that so hard for everyone to understand?
Robert was all over the place.
When he started "Luck Be a Lady," we'd all be lucky if he got through it.
You really didn't like the production?
-That means that... -Yes, Peter, yes.
It means I really liked your other ones.
And as pathetic as it makes me feel now, I really liked you too.
And if you wanted me to change that review,
if it meant that much to you,
all you had to do was roll over and ask.
So...
too late now?
Uh, that's what I'm thinking.
-Because...? -Well...
You brought me here to blackmail me,
and then tell me you've been sleeping with me cynically for years.
-Please don't do this! -What is the big deal?
Everyone gets a bad review once in a while.
But it's different this time.
Robert's losing his memory.
-He barely made it through the play. -What?
I had to convince him to wear an earpiece and I fed him the lines from backstage.
That's why you had to be backstage?
I thought you just didn't want to pay for a ticket.
This is Robert's last play.
And I was hoping to protect him from having to face that.
But...
I guess you really can't protect anyone from facing what they have to face.
I used to play cards with my mother every Sunday.
And then she started...
At first I thought she was cheating.
Pretty soon I realized she just couldn't remember.
I saw that she couldn't play bridge long before she did,
and I wish I could have protected her from it.
Please give my husband the chance to end his acting career with dignity.
I'll change my review tonight.
I am so sorry about what you're going through.
You have my deepest sympathy.
Thank you, Simon.
Peter, you're screwed. I'll see you in the morning edition.
You are so fucking hot right now.
Ugh. Call me, maybe. Piece of shit.
I am really starting to like him.
I'm so sorry about your dad.
Yeah, I know, Frankie.
I can't imagine how painful that was for you.
And it explains so much.
About your fear of attachments and sudden loss.
Why you won't go in the ocean.
Frankie, you know why I won't go in the ocean.
Fish poop in there.
I should go, Grace.
I clearly remind you of a lot of things you don't want to think about.
I'm sorry that I upset you.
You're not gonna just leave without so much as a hug?
Or a recipe?
Oh, Jeffrey, don't go.
I think there's a way for both of you to get what you want.
Grace wants the recipe and Jeffrey wants to know about his dad.
So every ingredient you give Grace,
she'll give you a detail about your father.
Frankie, that--
That is the most insane idea that you've--
One quartered chicken.
Oh! Oh.
Okay.
He slept in the hospital when you had pneumonia.
One diced onion.
At night he would lie on the floor next to my bed, and--
And sing me the Mills Brothers.
Two cloves of garlic.
He smelled of vanilla on Sunday mornings
when he made us pancakes.
Two tablespoons of Hungarian paprika.
He did a great Bugs Bunny impression.
Can you do it?
Where's my ingredient?
One pinch chili flakes.
-No, I can't do it. -I'd like a crack at it.
Wait a minute.
I almost forgot the chicken stock...
and the sour cream.
And I almost forgot:
he never left the house without wearing a hat.
Thank you.
Oh, thank you!
Aw. You're welcome. Oh.
-Any time. Literally, any time.
I'm sorry.
They were supposed to pick her up before you got home. It was an emergency.
An emergency? They went to Costco at rush hour.
They're adrenaline junkies.
If they didn't feel terrible,
they wouldn't have bought us the Jamón de Serrano.
The pig's leg?
I'd rather have my fiancé.
Brianna, we agreed that I was gonna be on call
until they get a handle on things.
-It's just temporary. -Except it's not.
It's the new normal.
In fact...
it's the life you always wanted.
Yeah, but with you.
Come on, it's not like I'm cheating on you.
It's worse.
I'm like the third wheel in my own relationship.
Not true. No. No, no.
We are a post-modern fam and you are my number one gal.
Then why change your phone background from me to her?
That was National Baby Day!
I was gonna change it back!
Why do we need a National Baby Day?
-What is wrong with everybody? -Brianna, get a grip.
I'm here. I love you.
Nothing has to change.
You honestly still believe that?
You just hid your child from me.
Do you know how fucked up that is?
Actually, you know what's fucked up?
Is that I felt like I had to.
This is really bad, isn't it?
And... the shrooms are kicking in.
Hit the spot?
Mm.
-Ah. You full? -Oh, yeah.
Great.
Back to my thing.
And what was your thing again?
I needed you to help me achieve immortal greatness,
and you enthusiastically agreed.
-I did? -Yes.
Do the words "yes, fine, whatever" ring a bell?
Yes, fine, whatever.
What's going on with you?
I'm average, Grace.
Shockingly ordinary.
And that's the way I'm gonna be remembered.
If I'm even remembered at all.
-How do you want to be remembered? -Well, not like that.
You know, for the first time today, I remembered my father.
I mean, really remembered him.
You know, not what he did, or how he died, or...
what he was to the world.
But what he was to me.
And it brought me a comfort that I never--
That I never knew I could have.
God, I wish he could know how good he made me feel.
Wouldn't you want to be remembered like that?
-I would. -Yeah.
And you will be. Trust me.
The people who love you will never remember you as ordinary.
Thank you.
And in a way...
that powerful insight came because I made you call your brother.
So in saving you...
I also saved myself.
Yes. Fine. Whatever.