♪ Men.♪Charlie lived life to its fullest
and-and gave it everything he had.
Gave me herpes.
Vaginal warts.
He used my panties to make tea.
My point is, um, that Charlie lived life on his own terms.
Blah, blah, blah. Why can'’t we see the body?
Charlie Harper was the love of my life
and a wonderful, wonderful man.
He slipped on the Metro platform
and fell in front of an oncoming train.
His body just exploded like a balloon full of meat.
I know what you said you wanted, but...
I really don'’t think Pamela Anderson will agree
to swallow your ashes.
[screams]
I ain'’t cleaning him up.
♪ Men.♪
♪ Imagine me and you, I do
♪ I think about you day and night ♪
♪ It'’s only right ♪
♪ To think about the boy you love ♪
♪ And hold him tight
♪ So happy together
♪ So how is the weather?
♪ Ba, ba, ba, ba
♪ Ba, ba-ba-ba, ba-ba, ba
♪ Ba-ba, ba, ba.
Lunchtime.
Here you go.
Tuna on toast...
with vodka.
Oh, don'’t give me that look.
It needs to eat.
Oh, is it sulking?
Well, if it doesn'’t eat,
it gets the hose.
That'’s better.
And pick up the napkin.
Just because it lives in a pit,
it doesn'’t have to live like an animal.
Thank you.
And after it eats,
it changes its clothes.
♪ Men, men, men, men, manly men, men, men ♪
♪ Ah. ♪ Men. ♪ Men.
♪ Men.♪Anything good in the mail?
Uh, let'’s see. Uh, electric bill,
cable bill, water bill. Here you go.
Do you ever experience shame?
Uh, shame is a rich man'’s emotion.
I can barely afford embarrassment.
Oh, wow.
Something for Charlie.
I-I told you to cancel his subscription
to the Sex Toy of the Month Club.
Oh, can'’t. He paid for life.
And, uh, January was butt plug month.
Oh. Oh, it'’s, uh... it'’s from his music publisher.
[whimpers]
You okay?
I'’m-I'’m... I'’m not sure.
Look.
"Dear Mr. Harper:
"We are holding unclaimed music royalties for you
in the amount of $2.5 million."
[whimpers]
Looks like those children'’s records he made
are still making money.
Uh, say the number again.
$2.5 million.
[whimpers]
Apparently, it'’s been stacking up since he died.
Like the butt plugs.
Alan, you do realize that money will go to his next of kin.
Uh, yeah. That'’s me.
Why do think I keep going... [whimpers]
What about your mother and his daughter?
[laughing]
Oh, you'’re serious.
Alan, you can'’t keep that kind of money secret from them.
Why not? I kept from you
that I used your Tesla to drive for Uber.
Hello. Yes, I-I just received a notice
of unclaimed royalties for Charlie Harper
that I would like to claim.
Oh, oh, yeah, sure, I'’ll hold.
What are you doing?Uh, claiming.
Uh, yes, yes. Hi. Uh, I am, uh, Alan Harper.
Uh, I'’m Charlie Harper'’s next of kin.
Yes, uh, uh, sadly, he-he passed away four years ago.
Yes, I-I am sorry, too.
Uh, he'’s irreplaceable.
Uh, anyway, um...
I guess you can just, you know, send me the check and...
Uh, death certificate?
Uh, o-okay, uh, is that...
is that necessary to get the money?
Okay. Uh, how about, uh, you send me the check,
I'’ll send you the death certificate?
Or we can do it your way.
Uh, uh, oh, oh,
and by the way, um, uh, when you give me the money,
do you notify the IRS, or is that my responsibility?
Mine! Perfect.
Uh, bye-bye.
Our divorce is final, right?
Alan, I neither want nor need your money.
Oh, I know that, uh,
but could you say that again on camera?
O-Okay, okay.
You don'’t have the death certificate, do you?
No, but I'’m sure my mom does.
How are you gonna get it from her
without telling her about the money?
Uh, remember four years ago
how I told you I'’d only be here for a few days?
I think I can figure it out.
I can'’t wait for this to be over.
♪ Men.♪
Well, this is a surprise.
You visit so seldom.
I know. I know.
I need to do it more.
I wasn'’t complaining.
So, how have you been?
Well, uh, uh, it'’s funny you should ask.
Um, I'’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.
I'’m not giving you a penny.
I, uh... I didn'’t come for money.
Or a place to live or a car.
Or affection or nurturing. I get it.
Uh, uh, I was thinking.
You know, um, well, maybe it'’s my age, but, uh,
I'’m starting to reflect on the big questions.
You know, what'’s... what'’s it all about?
Uh, why are we here?
What happens when we die?
I know what happens when I die.
You get nothing.
Mom, I-I told you, I did not come here...
Really? Nothing?
It'’s not because I don'’t love you.
I just don'’t want to give you a reason to kill me.
You mean anotherreason.
Where are all these morbid thoughts coming from?
As long as I'’ve known you,
you'’ve never been much of a thinker.
Or a... a doer or a provider or...
pretty much anything with "er" at the end.
Maybe I'’ve been asking all these questions because
the anniversary of Charlie'’s death is coming up.
So? So I was thinking
it might be nice to do something to commemorate it.
Like what? Snort coke off a hooker'’s butt?
Uh, actually, uh, uh, more like, uh,
make a... a memorial collage.
[laughs] A what?
A... a memorial collage.
You know, a collection of images celebrating his life.
Uh, things like, uh, his birth certificate,
uh, family pictures, death certificate,
uh, awards, sheet music, diplomas,
death certificate, um...
I don'’t know how much I can help you.
I-I'’ve got his birth certificate,
a few baby pictures,
the little hash pipe he made in camp.
No death certificate?
No.
I-I just thought you had it.
Oh. Well, bye.
♪ Men.♪
I'’m sorry. I can'’t find any record of your brother'’s death.
You sure? Uh, newspapers, obituaries?
No, I checked everything on Charlie Harper--
both here and in France-- and...
I-I found a bunch of weird self-shot sex videos,
including one featuring what appears to be
the USC men'’s water polo team?
I also found this crazy rant about a former employer.
But there'’s nothing about his death.
How is that possible?
Did you ever see the body?
There was no body. The man was hit by a train.
All that was left was a...
a meat smoothie and a couple of teeth.
Well, how do you know he'’s really dead?
Well, of course he'’s dead. I have his ashes.
How do you know that they'’re his ashes?
Well, what do you want me to do, test them for herpes?
♪ Men.♪
♪ Twinkle, twinkle, little star ♪
♪ I always know just where you are ♪
♪ In a pit below my house
♪ You will always be my spouse. ♪
Oh, boy.
[clicks tongue, sighs]
Never put a window in a dungeon.
♪ Men.♪
Yes, I am calling about the $2.5 million
in unclaimed royalties for Charlie Harper.
Uh, uh, good news.
Uh, I have just received
the death certificate from France.
Uh, it'’s in French and everything
so you know it'’s real.
Oh, oh, sure, I'’ll hold.
Uh, "cause de décès."
Uh... uh, le...
train.
Oh, yes, yes, I'’m still here.
What?
It'’s already been claimed?
By whom?
Was it an older red-headed woman
wearing a coat made of Dalmatians?
What do you mean, you can'’t tell me?
A... a numbered account in the Cayman Islands?
That makes no sense.
FedEx just dropped off a box addressed to Charlie.
Uh... uh, uh, I'’ll call you back.
If that'’s a blow-up sex doll, can I have it?
My grandkids need a pool toy.
Cuban cigars?
Charlie'’s favorite smokes.
Single malt scotch?
Charlie'’s favorite breakfast.
What the hell?
Looks the knife he used to chase you around the house with.
Yeah, that'’s it.
[cell phone beeps]
"I'’m coming home, and you'’re going to pay."
That'’s got to be a wrong number.
You never pay for anything.
♪ Men.♪
Walden! Alan?
Ms. McMartin, I'’m sorry. Uh, where'’s Walden?
WALDEN [muffled]: I'’m a little busy, Alan.
Oh, okay.
Uh, are-are you aware she'’s reading Cosmo?
It'’s a how-to article.
WALDEN: Well, it'’s not so much "how to,"
as "how to do it better."
Seriously?
Hey. Even Tiger Woods needs a swing coach.
Listen, can you
just come back in, like, what, 20 minutes?
Eh...
No. This can'’t wait. Look at this text.
[sighs]
Okay, that can'’t be for you.
You never pay for anything.
I think, somehow, someway...
[whispering]: Charlie is still alive.
Okay, this is ridiculous.
There'’s more. A package came addressed to him.
Oh, is it something that vibrates?
'’Cause I could really use some help with this.
He ain'’t lying.
No. It'’s-it'’s not sex toys.
I am telling you, Charlie is coming back,
and he is not happy with me.
Well, at the moment, neither am I.
Should I go?
No, no, no, no, no. We'’re so close.
Eh-eh...
Walden, it'’s like you said.
I mean, there was no proof that Charlie ever died.
All we have is Rose'’s word.
Who'’s Rose?
Oh, she'’s this crazy millionairess
that used to stalk Charlie, and then he married her.
And then she started stalking me.
Why? Did you sleep with her?
Alan slept with her, too.
Hey, after 12 years,
everybody'’s slept with everybody.
EVELYN: Alan! Alan, where are you?
Uh, in here!
Oh, for God sakes!
That'’s my mother. Uh, oh, Walden slept with her, too.
Uh... you slept with my mom!
No, that was just a handy in a hotel bar.
I am a gentleman.
We need to talk.
Oh. Who'’s this?
Uh, this is my son'’s social worker, Ms. McMartin.
And you'’re shtupping her. How lovely.
Mom, don'’t be rude.
Uh, and I shtupped her first.
I really should go.
Yeah. Uh, okay.
Just remember which step we'’re on.
Number six:
"finding the little man in the canoe."
I don'’t remember you having any trouble...
Okay, everybody stop!
What are you doing here?
I want to know why you sent me this hateful e-mail.
Uh, "Dear Mom:
"You were always a horrible mother
"and a repulsive human being, and I hope you rot in hell.
"But before you do,
I will have my revenge."
Okay, I don'’t disagree with anything here...
...but I did not send that.
Really? Who else would call me "a horrible mother"?
No, no, it'’s still ridiculous.
What'’s ridiculous?
Alan has this crazy idea
that Charlie'’s still alive.
But then who sent her that e-mail?
Who sent me this text?
Where did the cigars, booze and chasin'’ knife come from?
Wait, what'’s a chasin'’ knife?
Uh, it'’s a regular knife
after two bottles of scotch and some blow.
Who else would have sent it?
I don'’t know.
Like, somebody that wants to freak you out.
Think about it: Who has something to gain from this?
Who else has a claim on that money?
What money?
No money. There'’s no money.
Alan, will you just tell her?
[sighs]
I don'’t want to.
Alan!
Turns out, uh, there are some unclaimed royalties,
uh, from Charlie'’s recordings.
How much?
Uh, two and a half... thousand dollars.
Alan!
Million.
$2.5 million.
Ah, the memorial collage.
That'’s why you wanted the death certificate--
so you could claim the money.
You dirty rat bastard.
What would you have done?
We'’re wasting time here.
Now, who else could have a claim on the money?
[Ms. McMartin moaning]
MS. McMARTIN: Oh, God!
Ah, damn it.
She found the little man without me.
♪ Men.♪
Anyway, we were thinking of putting together
a sort of memorial collage...
For God'’s sakes, will you just tell her?
Um, some money owed to your father has been discovered.
Really? How much?
Two and a half thousand.
Million. It'’s $2.5 million.
Why are you here?
You know what? I'’ve been asking myself that since day one.
Honestly, I forgot she was here.
Look, anyway,
somebody claimed it and transferred it
into a numbered account in the Caymans.
And you think it was me?
Would I be living in a one-bedroom apartment
if I had that kind of money?
[door opens]
I don'’t have my contacts in.
Was that the same one or different?
[knock at door]
Excuse me.
Wow. You hang a penis on that girl,
and you'’ve got Charlie.
[door opens]
Thank you. Huh.
Certified letter from a law firm.
Might mean traveling money. Stand by.
Oh, my God.
What is it?
Am I seeing that right? That'’s a lot of zeroes.
It'’s a cashier'’s check for $100,000.
[whimpers]
Who'’s it from?
I don'’t know. Oh, but there'’s a note.
It says, "Buy yourself something nice.
Sorry I wasn'’t there for you."
I don'’t care who it'’s from.
Apology accepted.
Is the bathroom in here?
♪ Men.♪
"Buy yourself something nice.
"Sorry I broke your heart...
"and banged your sister.
As I write this, I realize those two things might be related."
Hmm. Screw my sister.
♪ Men.♪
"Buy yourself something nice.
"Sorry I shot you.
I didn'’t know I was loaded."
♪ Men.♪
"Buy yourself something nice.
Tell your mom I'’m sorry I gave her chlamydia."
♪ Men.♪
"Sorry I never called.
Buy yourself a nice vagina."
Aw.
♪ Men.♪
♪ Men.♪Well, obviously Jenny
didn'’t claim the royalties.
Why would she send a check to herself?
Yeah, but you still don'’t know it was Charlie.
Oh, who else is gonna send
an unemployed lesbian actress $100,000?
I don'’t know. Ellen DeGeneres?
I'’m telling you, Charlie'’s alive.
ROSE: Oh, good.
Then I don'’t have to tell you.
♪ Men, men, men.♪