Mom

Gus, give me five.

Give me five.

Your paw, my hand, make it happen.

Oh, come on.

I have seen you do it with other people.

Ah, damn it!

Ooh, Daddy's mad.

United front, right?

I'll remember this.

Did you eat the chocolate out of my nightstand drawer?

Sorry. I have to get gas today; I'll pick you up another one.

This isn't gas station chocolate.

It has hints of elderberry and sea salt.

It's 72% cacao.

You're so upset you don't know how to pronounce it.

I love you, honey, but it's cocoa.

No, it's cacao, you hillbilly.

And I was savoring this one square at a time.

You ripped through this thing like Augustus Gloop.

Who?

The fat Nazi kid from Willy Wonka.

He was a Nazi?

If I wanted to share it, I would have put it in the kitchen

where everything of mine gets eaten.

Stay out of my drawer.

Ah, I think you're overreacting.

Can I make you a cup of tea

or a nice comforting mug of hot "cacao"?

No.

Hey, Rudy, what are the specials?

Well, I'll tell you what's special.

A cheery hello from my good friend Christy.

Oh, God, what do you want?

A wee favor-poo. Hmm?

I got a DUI. They suspended my license, and so, get this:

I am legally required to do that thing you do.

Cry myself to sleep?

I'm referring to your meetings with the other drunkards.

I have to go to ten AA meetings and get this card signed.

So, could you go to ten AA meetings

and get this card signed?

No. If you've been ordered to go, you have to go.

All right. When are you picking me up?

Why do I have to pick you up?

Because I could go to jail,

and your livelihood depends on me.

God, no.

There's a meeting tomorrow at 8:00 a.m.

at the community center.

Oof. I do not like

any of those words.

There's another meeting at 3:00,

but I know people at that one, so you have to be nice.

I'll have a couple of cocktails beforehand, loosen up.

Yeah.

Why do you hate me?

It is pronounced "cacao."

What?

Yes, chocolate is made from the cacao bean.

Marjorie, chocolate does not come from a bean.

The point is, it's just stupid candy,

and he should get over it.

Does Adam really ask for that much?

Sexually?

Why would I be talking sexually?

You tell me. P.S., yes.

I'm just saying it might be nice to respect his boundaries.

- Sexually? - Goodbye.

Marjorie is really losing it. Big time.

She just threw a birthday party for one of her cats.

I had to make a speech, with no heads-up.

Pretty good cake, though.

Rudy, in here.

All the way. Come on.

Oof. Cloudy with a chance of suicide.

I told you to be nice.

Now shut up and sit down.

I'll get you a cup of coffee.

Cappuccino, bone dry, one pump of vanilla.

- Hi, I'm Mary. - No.

What a nightmare.

Ah, sorry about the Lorna Doones. I didn't have time to bake.

I was busy planning a birthday party.

It's not that.

I'm babysitting Chef Rudy.

He got a DUI.

Court-ordered attendance?

And resenting every minute of it.

He doesn't care about getting sober.

It's just a waste of time.

Christy, if you change your attitude about Rudy,

you could be the one to help save his life.

Huh.

I never thought of making it about me.

Have I taught you nothing?

So... you got through your first meeting.

I'm proud of you.

I know it's a lot.

Tell me how you're feeling. There's no wrong answer.

One down, nine to go.

All right, let's hit it.

Wait. No. What's happening?

Who are these people?

It's Wendy and Jill.

They both shared at the meeting.

Yes. I'm still a-tingle. Hmm.

Why are they in the backseat of your dreary economy car?

Christy, am I allowed to be mean to him?

No, he's a newcomer.

Damn it. Welcome.

So glad you're joining us.

After meetings we all go to the bistro for coffee and pie.

I was not court-ordered for coffee and pie.

Okay, then get an Uber.

Alas, I've been banned by Uber, Lyft,

and most gypsy cabs.

Apparently, there are cameras everywhere now.

Ugh, tell me about it.

In the Neiman Marcus dressing room...

No, no. We're not going back and forth.

Again, welcome.

Oh, are you kidding me?

Literally, the last thing I said to you was leave my stuff alone.

I was replacing your chocolate.

What the hell is that?

I think you mean "thank you."

This isn't even chocolate.

It's carob; it's-it's-it's hippie chocolate.

Well, it's the only thing I could find

in Marjorie's purse.

By the way, she was asking a lot of questions

about our sex life.

That is one dirty bird.

Look, I need to have something around here that's just mine.

Where is this all coming from?

It never bothered you before we were married.

Because I had my own apartment.

I had my own living room, my own kitchen, my own bed.

Okay, we get it, guy, you had a lot of stuff.

Now I'm down to a couple of drawers.

And my wife can't stay out of 'em.

Hey, hold up. You rented out your apartment

so you could put more money into a bar I can't drink in.

I put a cocktail on the menu called The Bonnie.

Yeah. Don't think I didn't notice the last ingredient was bitters.

See? See? See? This is what you do.

You change the subject.

We're talking about me living in your house.

And I know it's your house 'cause none of me is in here.

Well, if you want any of you in here,

you better back it down a notch.

I think we both know you'd cave before me.

Well, excuse me for being vital.

And you know damn well I have to live in "my house"

because I'm the building manager.

Perhaps the real issue is why

are you so threatened by my career?

Your what?

Th-There it is. And you wonder why we still march.

What are you doing?

You want space? Have the whole room.

Including your drawer.

I had so many opportunities to get out of this.

No. No. No-no-no-no-no.

No! No!

No!

Off.

Off.

Just remember, I can fart, too.

Wendy, you're some kind of nurse, right?

Why are you all still surprised?

My neck is really stiff from last night.

Could you massage this?

Could you be nice to me?

Jill, could you massage this?

Feels weird rubbing somebody who's never bought me jewelry.

You didn't have to sleep on the couch.

All you had to do was apologize to him.

Which is exactly why I had to sleep on the couch.

Keep up with the story.

Look, Bonnie, Adam needs to feel like it's his house, too.

Maybe if you let him bring a few of his things over,

he'll relax and you can stop stealing my pocketbook snacks.

Nope, nope, nope. Sorry, but I got

to overrule the Grand Poo-Bah here.

My ex tried to put one of those tables in the living room

that have those twirly flippy men on 'em, what do you call it?

Foosball? You got a Foosball table?

No, I do not.

Because marriage is all about establishing dominance.

So is Foosball.

- Ugh. - What?

Rudy on FaceTime.

Hmm. What?

I need you to drive me to the mall.

I'm desperate for underpants.

I see that.

Can you tilt the phone up?

- So be a lamb, pick me up in five. - No.

I'm taking you to meetings, that's it.