♪ upbeat music ♪
♪ It's Showtime tonight ♪
This means war.
Previously on Black Monday...
This is for my homies in the mother ghetto.
My dad literally died of a heart attack
while beating me.
- How quickly do you think
you can get behind this bank bailout?
Immediately. After I solidify my standing
and another term seems in the bag,
I will slip it right in.
You're all going down.
The heat is on but not in the cool Glenn Frey way.
I don't need you to save my ass.
I came up with Black Monday.
I want my revenge!
Or you'll go back to jail, Keith.
She's undercover.
She busted him and turned him.
Good luck sleeping,
'cause the next knock you hear could be me.
Uh, how the fuck did he get you here?
He told me you could get me out of this shit.
How the fuck did he get you here?
He told me you could get me out of this shit.
Funny, 'cause he told me he could get me out of this shit.
I feel like we're in the movie Clue.
Oh, yeah, I know, it was Professor Cocksucker
with the rope in the congressman's bedroom.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
That you're probably responsible
for your boyfriend's death,
considering that the only people
who could have had access to that sex tape
are me and you, and I'm not a fucking psycho.
Yeah, that's it.
I don't know why you're grinning, Keith.
Last I checked, five people died
during your little Dog Day Afternoon,
so you're not exactly not a murderer yourself.
- Mm-hmm. - Okay, none of those
were my fault, and one of them was from natural causes.
And last time I checked, Dawn,
wasn't Black Monday basically National Kill Yourself Day?
- So I don't know-- - Okay, fine.
So we all got bodies, all right?
- We all got fucking bodies. - What are you guys doing here?
- Oh, God. - Oh, no.
I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Come in, please.
We got soda, orange juice, purple stuff, Sunny D,
and a shit ton of cocaine.
♪ dramatic percussive music ♪
So, what, we're supposed to just trust each other,
not to mention you, after everything?
We have fucked each other more than the Mamas and the Papas.
They're a famously incestuous band.
- Never heard of 'em. - I'm more of a Wham! guy.
I'm more of a black guy. Look, we're even, okay?
We all need this, and there's really no other fucking choice.
Unless you guys wanna spend
the rest of your lives in prison.
That's what I thought.
So last night, after Keith crashed our date
and ruined our lives--
Technically, you ruined our lives.
I just put it all out in the open.
Yeah, I did the Amerisavings thing
to fuck you guys over, because each of you guys
fucked me over, and you deserved that shit.
Now, I was gonna leave it at that and disappear forever
until my past caught up to me, literally,
but from that first moment that Connie took me down--
Wait, wait, who's Connie?
Connie, Aisha, Dee-Dee, the same chick,
- the FBI bitch. - That bitch.
When she took me down,
I started putting pieces together
to figure out a way to take her down with me.
And then I took down some coke,
which I haven't done in a long time.
That shit hit my brain like Popeye's spinach.
But I figured out that I could put those same pieces together
to save all of us but only if you guys
are willing to complete the puzzle.
What the fuck?
How much coke did you do?
This looks likes Drew Barrymore's diary.
I used it purely as a study aid, Dawn.
Okay, I knocked this shit out in 13 hours.
Then I color-coded my record collection by rhythm section,
and by color, I'm talking about race.
And by rhythm, I'm also talking about race.
Jesus, what's the fucking plan?
No, you're right, you're right.
Stay on point, stay on point.
So here you can see, it's simple.
Actually, it's...
It's very fucking complicated,
as evidenced by the fact that I needed several
floor-to-ceiling windows to write all the shit down,
but like I said, when Connie busted me,
I started trying to figure out a way to save my ass.
It turns out, it could save all our asses.
♪ Midnight Star's "Operator" playing ♪
♪ The operator... ♪
Hey, wake up, brother, it is payback time.
Roland Madison, from back in our Black Panther days.
No, no, not the comic book.
The movement started by Huey Newton.
No, that would be Huey Lewis. That's The News.
Yeah, they are very similar-sounding.
Wait, is this Sam Poole?
Shit, that's a six. It's a six.
Hey, wake up, brother, it is payback time.
Roland?
♪ Operator... ♪
May I just say, damn.
Mm-mm, get outta here with that weak shit.
♪ Operate on me ♪
♪ Take control of that body ♪
♪ Take control of me ♪
♪ I called my baby up on the telephone ♪
♪ I got connected to a freaky zone ♪
Oh.
♪ The conversation... ♪
On behalf of all men, I am so sorry.
- Can I refill you? - Yes, please.
- Dude, you love a honeypot. - What's a honeypot?
You haven't seen Hogan's Heroes?
Hogan's Heroes.
Oh, I was more of an F Troop guy.
Yeah, that tracks, but my guy on the inside
can't do shit unless Dawn gets $3 million
transferred to an account in the Caymans in Connie's name.
Transferred from where?
The AASF.
Why the fuck would Marcus do that?
So he can hit that shit.
- Again? - Ohh.
Who cares?
I don't--it doesn't-- Wait, again?
Fuck, it's fine. I don't care.
That doesn't--it--
Well, I'll tell you why he should do it, okay?
Because Connie's been fucking our people over for years,
and this is gonna save the AASF.
Trust me, all of our problems with Connie
will be taken care of if Dawn can take care of Marcus.
Okay, if...if you and Dawn can get rid of Connie,
that doesn't mean that Reagan and the FBI
are just gonna forget about Black Monday.
Eh, I don't know.
Reagan's kinda known for forgetting shit,
and not just whose side he's on.
- Or the middle class. - Or the mentally ill.
Or the fact that he used to be pro-choice,
but you're right, Blair.
They're not just gonna stop coming for us.
Especially if Larry Leighman goes down for the yen trade,
he's gonna try to take us down too.
Which is why you have to convince him
to find a patsy to pin the yen thing on.
That way, they stay clean,
and it'll keep us from getting revenge fucked.
Okay, if Keith can pull this off,
who goes down for Black Monday?
Well, no one,
until you leverage Pastor Newell
to do us a huge favor.
- What's that? - An act of kindness.
But that's not important right now.
I'm just kidding.
I watched Airplane three times when I was on my coke-a-thon.
They really love that joke structure.
- What the fuck is the favor? - What is happening?
Okay, okay, okay, right.
You have to get Pastor Newell to get his puppet,
the governor, to pardon me
after I confess to masterminding Black Monday.
- Oh, shit.
Come on, you guys know this is fucking brilliant.
- Look at this shit. - I don't know, Mo.
It's a-it's a lot of moving parts.
Yeah, it ain't a slam dunk.
But, you know, getting four people cleared of FBI charges
for which they are legitimately guilty never is.
But we all gotta be in. All in.
Fuck it, I'm in.
I'm in.
Eh, no. I'm not doing that shit.
Dawn, this shit only works if we're all in.
No, I'm in. I'm just--
I'm not doing that dumbass sports hand thing.
♪ Glenn Frey's "The Heat Is On" playing ♪
Marcus, I can fix this.
- Trust me. - How?
If you transfer $3 million
into an account in the Cayman Islands,
we can sink that FBI bitch for good.
♪ Inside your head... ♪
Hey, why don't you call in sick?
You know I would,
but today is the biggest day of my career.
♪ ...and the beat's so loud ♪
♪ Deep inside... ♪
That's why I rushed over here
the second I got your note.
I genuinely like you.
The FBI are after us.
What the fuck?
All we need to do is pin it on a patsy.
♪ Whoo ♪
♪ Oh-ooh-oh-oh, oh-ooh-oh-oh... ♪
I can fix this for both of us,
but you have to put me on the air.
Congressman Harris' suicide note.
Take her down, Lynette!
Oh, look at the numbers climb!
I know how close you are with the governor.
You're gonna ask him to do me a favor.
♪ The heat is on ♪
♪ Oh, it's on the street ♪
- ♪ The heat is ♪
- ♪ On ♪ - Freeze! Freeze!
Whoa, whoa. Whoa, whoa.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
♪ Daisy, daisy ♪
♪ Give me your answer, do ♪
♪ I'm so crazy all for the love of you ♪
♪ It won't be a stylish marriage ♪
♪ I can't afford a carriage ♪
- ♪ But you'll look sweet ♪ - ♪ Upon the seat ♪
♪ Of a bicycle built for two ♪
- ♪ Or three ♪ - Shut the fuck up, Keith!
You're not part of this!
I'm going to stick my foot up your ass!
Lenny, Lenny...
- No! - Okay.
- I can do it. - Okay.
I can do anything.
Oh, hardy-har-har.
Let's all laugh at the man
who was panini'd by a supercar.
So funny, I forgot to die.
- We were just having fun. - Nobody's laughing at you!
Oh, really?
Lenny, look, the only reason I'm here
is to help you, help us.
Shut up, Keith!
There is no us!
Lawrence, your infatuation with this baby carrot of a man
continues to befuddle me.
Well, this baby carrot of a man
is the only thing standing between you and the FB--
I think we need more firewood.
Go get firewood.
What do you say, Keithy? Go on a kindling run?
Sure.
Oh, baby brother.
What was it our grand-père used to say here at Wolf Lake?
You can't say "family man" without "Leighman."
Yeah, he did, Len.
♪ soft dramatic music ♪
Hurry back.
How far away is this firewood?
What firewood?
The firewood that we told your brother we're getting.
What brother?
My brother Lenny survived Black Monday
only to tragically succumb to injuries
right after the devastating
and highly illegal yen trade
he made.
Uh, no.
You said it. A patsy.
No, no, I never suggested
that we leave him in the woods to die.
We're in this together now.
All the way...
brother.
♪ Upon the seat ♪
♪ Of a bicycle built ♪
♪ For two ♪
Thanks again for lunch.
Oh, of course.
You did take advantage of me a little bit
by ordering that seafood tower to go.
But no, it's fine.
I-I just wanted to thank you
for being my eyes and ears at TBD.
I mean, without you, I never would have known
about Amerisavings.
- We go back. - Yeah.
I was a security guard before you found me.
I think you mean before you blackmailed me
into giving you a job with the security footage
of me and Dawn destroying the Leighman Brothers' office.
Yeah, there's-there's your version.
- And then there's my version.
Yeah, "po-tay-to," "po-tah-to," yeah, yeah.
- Yeah. - Which is why
this next part's gonna be a little difficult.
Why are you talking to me like you're divorcing my mom?
- Just wait a second. - No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
You sound just like my stepdad Sam
and my stepdad Todd
and my stepdad Jean-Pierre
but without the Haitian patois.
I'm sorry, buddy,
but I gotta go away for a little while.
So that's it?
Dad's leaving!
Jesus.
I should've known.
That's why you've been spoiling me all day.
I'm gonna miss you too, which is why I want to give you
a little something to remember me by.
♪ smooth music ♪
$30 in quarters?
Trust me, you're gonna need every goddamn one of them.
- Come in.
Hey, Yassir, what's up?
Uh, what the fuck am I looking at?
Justice.
I came up with Just For Men first.
And now they're gonna sue me?
I'm a tiny nonprofit men's rights group.
They're a soulless corporation,
profiting off the anti-gray female gaze.
Well, I'm gonna teach 'em a lesson
by syringing bleach into these Just For Men bottles
and then sneaking them back on the shelves just like...
The Chicago Tylenol tampering murders of 1982.
Yeah, I got it, man.
Except no one's gonna die.
I mean, they're just gonna... not dye.
D-Y-E, get it?
Bet they go bankrupt once all their customers
start looking like this.
You're-you're fucking with people's look, man.
It's just not cool.
Listen, I don't need your approval,
but I could use a ride to 15 Duane Reades
in the tri-state area so I can restock these.
Yeah, not gonna do that.
So you wanna tell me what the hell this is all about?
$3 million transferred
into an offshore bank account in your name.
What?
Transferred from where?
The AASF.
This is bullshit.
Somebody must've just opened an account in my name.
In your real name, Aisha? Your identity is classified.
Not to mention all the security questions on the account.
A ton of personal information we didn't even know
but have since verified.
So somebody went through my trash.
Or maybe tapped my phones.
And then they hired someone who looks exactly like you
to walk in and out of that bank in the Caymans.
The evidence is overwhelming.
♪ mellow rock music ♪
And I want you to go fuck yourself.
Let me guess, Aisha, you're not coming to dinner with my folks.
I can finish this case tonight.
Let's fucking party!
Come on, how can I make it up to you?
Name it.
Let's go away next weekend.
Someplace romantic. No work.
No work, done.
Waylon Washington.
Oh, that motherfucker.
He's the one that suggested we go to the Caymans,
and he made me run to this bank to get cashier's checks
so that I could be caught on the security camera.
What--it's my boyfriend.
Unfortunately, as far as we can tell,
this Waylon Washington doesn't exist.
Of course he doesn't.
Just like the man who created him.
You did it.
You knew I would.
Yes, I did! Get in here!
Oh, boy.
So how'd you convince him?
Did you make him think you were into him or something?
Yeah, or something.
Okay, well, anyway,
I'm just glad that the plan might actually work.
Mm-hmm.
And I owe it all to my first love.
- Mm. - Cocaine.
You want some?
Sure.
I mean, you forget how good it is.
- And then you remember. - Mm.
Okay, sure, why not?
Yeah.
- Oh, Dawnie. - Mm.
You know, I really took to heart
what you said the other night.
Uh-huh.
About me always making it about me.
- Yeah. - You weren't wrong.
Which is why I thought you would dig this plan.
Because at its core, it is about me
heroically sacrificing myself.
Mm, come on, let's be real.
Same Mo-Mo, just scamming everyone
into helping you get what you want,
and you get to be the hero.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, this plan,
like all my plans, is pretty fucking fragile.
I mean, look, Blair or Keith could fail.
- Or betray me. - Yeah.
And I'm really rolling the dice with this legal system
while I'm waiting for my pardon.
No, no, no, any number of things
could still go very, very bad for old Mo-Mo.
Yeah, but they won't, 'cause they never do.
You know, you always seem to just keep running
in between the raindrops, and the worst part is,
is when you take the fall,
you'll be known as the genius behind Black Monday.
My idea. You!
The motherfucker who got took!
Yeah, don't think I forgot.
How could you, huh?
I ate your fucking lunch!
Oh, well, I hope it tasted like shit.
You hope that your lunch tasted like shit?
- Did ya eat it? - Fuck you!
- Oh, really? - Fuck you. Yeah, yeah.
Oh, okay, oh, we doing side-head now?
This is it, this is the passionate discourse, right?
Oh, God, it's kind of our sweet spot.
Yeah. Will they or won't they?
Why don't they already?
- Why don't they? - What the fuck?
What the fuck? What was that?
What did--did you just say, "Why don't they already?"
- Hey, uh, sorry I'm late. - I didn't say do it!
K-Man, tell me you got it done.
Yes, long story. Actually, short story.
Lenny's still alive.
He took the fall, and now he's dead.
- Wait-- - No further questions.
- Piece of cake.
You know, good old Keith, right?
Shut the fuck up real quick.
What?
It's from Blair.
Let there be a God.
Come on.
Blair did it. He got the pardon.
- Yes!
Of course it worked. Your shit always works.
Hey, don't be mad at me 'cause I'm a genius.
- He's a genius.
Ah.
Well, now all that's left is for me to sacrifice myself,
like the tragic hero that I am.
- Just go. - Seriously?
Hey, genius, not so super genius
to leave your genius plan in permanent marker
on your own window.
- Whoa!
This is for my homies in the ghetto.
What the fuck?
You seriously need to stop doing coke, man!
I just started.
- Oh, thank you.
Parishioners, during that interval
from our holy sponsors,
I had a revelation direct from the Lord himself.
God was so taken by this young man's bravery
in the face of his flaming demons
that he whispered in my ear to lift him up,
which is why I just urge my dear friend
Governor Putnam to complete this redemption story
and fill the vacant seat by appointing Blair Pfaff
as the next congressman of the great state of New York.
- Wait, what? - That slippery fuck.
Oh, and the governor said yes, praise God.
- He said yes!
Praise him.
Nice doing business with you, Congressman.
You're still a monster.
Leviticus 3:21.
It takes one to know one, you piece of shit.
- Oh, hello, darling. - Can I get a picture?
- Hi, hi.
- Congratulations, Congressman. - Thank you.
Oh, and one more thing.
As the new poster boy for conversion therapy,
you best not miss a single session,
or I will hang you out to dry faster
than I did my own son-in-law.
Have a good day.
So nice to meet you. I'm such a huge fan.
Hey, girl.
You becoming congressman was not part of the plan.
Nope.
Did you get the governor to pardon Mo?
Well, I was following the plan, but then I realized,
why would I use my chip with the governor to save Mo
when I could use it for myself?
Motherfucker.
My mother always told me,
when something breaks,
you can't always put it back together,
but you can use the pieces to move forward.
Things between Mo and I will always be broken.
I will never forgive him.
So I'm just using the pieces he gave me.
What about us, hmm?
Huh? We're partners!
Dawn, it's time for me to evolve
into who you made me
or maybe who I've always been deep down.
Blair, you are not this person.
You need to make this right.
You need to use your new connections,
and you need to get Mo that pardon.
I will immediately.
As soon as I solidify my standing in Congress
and a second term seems in the bag.
- Shit. - Does he wanna talk to me?
No, no, he hung up.
Why didn't he wanna talk to me?
Look, you don't know this, but Mo was arrested,
I don't know, once when he was, like, 17.
So checkered past. No surprise there.
Which means if he turns himself in,
this will be his third strike.
He thinks Blair's gonna save him, okay?
If he confesses, he goes away for life.
But we'd be free and clear.
- Keith. - You're right.
- We gotta-we gotta stop him. - Damn it. It's rush hour.
How are we gonna cut through all this traffic?
We can cut it with a blade.
♪ Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out For a Hero" playing ♪
- Hey! I'm skating here!
You're in the road, you piece of shit!
Out of the way!
♪ In my wildest fantasy ♪
♪ Somewhere just beyond my reach... ♪
Go!
What are you looking at? There we go.
♪ Racing on the thunder ♪
- Shit!
♪ And rising with the heat ♪
♪ It's gonna take a superman ♪
♪ To sweep me off my feet ♪
- Oh!
- Whoa! - ♪ I need a hero ♪
Don't do this.
Dude, this shit really itches.
Oh, shit, what the fuck happened to my car?
My face is burning!
And the fucking hair is falling off my head!
You didn't wash the bleach off?
I was supposed to wash the bleach off?
What's this all about?
What's with all this Just For Men?
What's that?
- What's-what's...what? - Uh...what?
Keith.
Hey. Buddy.
I was looking for you.
Jesus Christ, are you okay?
You're the one I'm worried about.
Seriously? Because your arms
are kinda all twisted up the wrong way.
Blair fucked us.
He used his favor from Newell
to get the governor to appoint him to Congress.
If you confess, it'll be your third strike.
You'll never be free.
This is it, then.
Yeah, time to go to Kokomo.
For real.
No, this is it. I gotta turn myself in.
- For Dawn, for you... - Uh-huh.
...for Blair and all the ladies back at TBD.
Too long I've just been running through the raindrops.
Well, it's time old Mo got wet.
That went kinda sexual at the end,
but I think you know what I mean
in a "cool guy line" way.
Totally. I'd stop you, but I can't really move.
It's my time, Keith.
And you should really get both of those arms checked out.
Oh, yeah, I do not feel good.
No, you shouldn't. You got hit by a car.
Yeah. Catastrophic pain.
- And, Mo...
- Mm-hmm? - You're a shit friend.
- But you don't deserve this. - Thanks, man.
Level with me, Doctor.
Is there a cure?
Yes, but it's gonna be hard.
You have a very bad case of homosexuality.
Worst I've ever seen.
- Really? - Mm-hmm.
Lucky for you, I practice a technique
taught to me by Pastor Newell Swafford himself
where, in phase one, we locate the trauma
that separated you from your masculinity.
Can you recall any traumatic event from your childhood
that you might have suppressed?
Not really.
I was a pretty average Midwestern teen
with a love for competitive a cappella
and a dad determined to beat that love out of me.
- I mean...
...does that count as one?
He really died of heart attack
while beating you?
Yeah.
Can you think of anything worse?
No.
Uh, I guess now that we've located the trauma,
we can fast-track you to phase two,
where we shock it out of you.
Really?
- Does that work? - Yes.
We can shock any inconvenient trauma from your memory
for $1,100 an hour.
Well, money's no object.
I am Agent Crandall.
I've taken over the former agent's caseload
due to the unpleasantness surrounding her, um...
well, her.
I have been tasked with putting this whole thing down
as quickly and quietly as possible.
Well, that's why I'm here.
I am Maurice Monroe, AKA Roland Madison,
and, uh, I'm here to confess.
I was behind Black Monday.
So you architected an algorithm with black box,
Trojan horse firmware that could backdoor
full kilobytes over baud while--
Yeah, bro, I'm a fucking nerd.
I always wear a Trojan when I go backdoor.
Look, I'm behind the Amerisavings thing.
I'm also behind the TBD Ponzi scheme thing
and the jammer shit.
I'm behind all that shit. It was all me.
So punish me.
I made a lot of mistakes in my life.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
I just, uh...
- You're still laughing. - Oh, yeah, I just, um--
Twenty minutes ago, someone confessed to Black Monday,
and they had a far, far, far more credible story.
So I guess you will just have to punish yourself.
Um, but I do appreciate
you stopping by so that I can now inform you in person
that the terms of your immunity deal have been fulfilled
and you are free to go,
and I can officially flush this turd for good.
Wait a minute. Who-who confessed?
For this heinous act of financial terrorism,
I sentence you to life!
It'll be okay. We can appeal.
Looking like that!
I think the permanent damage you've done to your follicles
is punishment enough.
- Congratulations, Wayne. - Next case, please.
Thanks.
Motherfucker got off easy.
Ugh, men.
Uh, care to commiserate about this miscarriage of justice
over a drink?
I have a fiancé. I thought you knew.
Are you joking?
Six months, I've been reading feminist books
and going to Gloria Steinem talkbacks.
I dressed like Frida Kahlo for Halloween.
Were you doing all that to sleep with me?
Yes!
Fuck yes!
I-I thought you knew.
I know that you knew that I didn't know shit!
Fuck women!
♪ somber music ♪
I dig the braids.
Your prison bitch do 'em for you?
- One of 'em.
You look good too.
Is that my jacket?
Yeah, one of 'em.
Listen, I don't want you to worry, okay?
I'm not gonna rest until I get you out of this fucking place.
Oh, God.
Mo-Mo, you still don't get it.
I don't need you to fucking save me.
I don't need you at all.
♪ The Boomtown Rats' "I Don't Like Mondays" playing ♪
- God damn it!
Fucking Roland or Maurice
or whoever the fuck fucking honeypotted me,
and I know 'cause I fucking honeypotted him!
- All power. - To the people!
When something breaks in life,
you can't always put it back together,
but you can use the pieces to move forward.
♪ All the playing's stopped in the playground now ♪
♪ She wants to play with the toys awhile ♪
♪ And school's out early and soon we'll be learning ♪
♪ And the lesson today is how to die ♪
♪ And then the bullhorn crackles ♪
♪ And the captain tackles ♪
♪ With the problems and the hows and whys ♪
♪ And he can see no reasons ♪
♪ 'Cause there are no reasons ♪
♪ What reason do you need to die, die ♪
♪ Oh, oh, oh, tell me why ♪
♪ I don't like Mondays ♪
♪ Tell me why ♪
♪ I don't like Mondays ♪
♪ Tell me why ♪
♪ I don't like, I don't like ♪
- ♪ Tell me why ♪ - ♪ I don't like Mondays ♪
- ♪ Tell me why ♪ - ♪ I don't like ♪
- ♪ Tell me why ♪
- ♪ I don't like Mondays ♪ - ♪ Tell me why ♪
♪ I don't like Mondays ♪
♪ I wanna shoot ♪
♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oot ♪
♪ The whole day down ♪
Larry!
What, are you growing a tree?
♪ dramatic music ♪
Larry!
- Larry!
- Keith!
That tracks.
That tracks! That tracks!