The 'Burbs

There's a rumor that Alison Grant's parents

killed her and buried her in the basement.

Twenty years ago, a teenage girl was murdered out here.

And I thought it was our new neighbor who did it.

But now I think it was Rob.

There's somebody out here. - Samira?

What are you doing here?

Young Robert: Alison, this isn't cool.

You're going to regret this.

Could you cover for me, please?

Hinkley Hills Police Department.

You can't go chasing after every troubled teen

that decides to run away.

Who are you? - Betsy.

Betsy Wilson, Gary's wife.

Sardine?

Dude, Alison's sardines.

Sardines?

What if Betsy is Alison?

- Uh, help. - Are you okay?

You look tranqed out. What's goin' on?

You're gonna be all right, Lynn.

Will you hold my hand so I don't float away?

Alison.

It's you.

It's really you.

He's back. You have to go.

From the way she got us out of there,

one thing's very clear to me.

Gary may be Alison's captor.

Remember, you aren't here.

Welcome home.

Watch

Hey, stay away from the window.

How the tables have turned.

Stop. I got it.

Hey.

As long as, you know, she slept through the night,

I couldn't.

I can't believe she's actually here.

- Safe. - Well, she's not safe though,

is she? Not with him.

I don't know, Rob. When I was over at the house,

she seemed pretty comfortable.

Yeah. That makes sense.

Its classic Stockholm syndrome, isn't it?

Gary abducts Alison 20 years ago,

takes her somewhere far away.

Very easy for him to make himself her entire world.

Then 20 years of "marriage" later,

she's completely dependent on him,

broken down, brainwashed.

This whole thing is hard to wrap my head around.

I've read, um--

well, published quite a lot of books on trauma.

It's been rather the hot topic for the past couple of years.

The body keeps the score.

Okay. Brene Black.

Peekaboo.

It's Brown. But...

Why would a kidnapper bring their doll-like obedient victim

back to their childhood home? - I don't know.

Some weird, twisted play acting fantasy.

Returning to the scene of the crime.

He's a kidnapper. He's mental.

Have you got any better ideas?

Okay. Come on this journey with me.

Okay. Let's Occam's razor it,

the most straightforward explanations

are usually correct.

Alison really did run away.

Okay. She graduated from the School of Hard Knocks,

survived the best way she knew how,

then meets an older guy who's kinda good-looking.

Good-looking? Has money

and Gary nicely compensates her to be his beard.

His beard?

Yeah. That seems very plausible, Mrs. Occam.

That's Occam, Esquire to you.

Maybe we should just call the cops.

Oh, you gonna call your boys, huh?

It's not my go-to action.

In the spirit of simple solutions to simple problems.

Okay. Well, I'm gonna put my Rob-hat on for a second

and ask, what exactly are we reporting?

That there's a woman who lives across the street

with her husband who hasn't sought help

even though he leaves regularly without her?

She's right, isn't she?

I need to think outside the box...

rationally.

It's him. Hide the baby.

You're worse than me.

Is that Langston?

Supreez!

Uncle L is here and I am bringing good energy.

Very, very good city treats

and a little bit of suspish that everything isn't too well

in the Hink.

So, Rob,

that look?

Uh, I'm gonna need you to rewind for a minute.

What do you mean not well?

They all call 'em.

The way that she thought you were a murderer, I'd say,

"Uh-uh, not my way, bub."

- Thanks for your support. - Aha. Aha.

Yeah. That whole call thing was just some sleep deprivation.

Baby brain. Am I right, bro?

Have not earned that.

May never. - Totally fair.

- You think? - But yes,

that is why Langston Poppins has come to the rescue.

- That's not even a pun. - I'm hung over.

You don't get puns, which is why it's extra heroic of me

to come and take the baby off your hands for the day,

so you two can at least get out of this cul-de-sac,

actually reconnect.

That's a pun. - Wait.

So, you wanna take Miles?

6:10, the last train back to the city, okay?

Until then, I'm on diaper duty.

Oh, wow. Oh. I got it.

Go enjoy the day, all right?

Eat somethin' challengin'.

Be in appropriately affectionate with each other in public

like I know that you two little skanks like to do.

Uh... - Just go.

Have fun.

Have a bagel, I brought alot.

Well, I would have liked to spend more time in the bunker

to feel its spiritual vibe.

But I felt we were in a rush.

You seem a bit lost in thought.

Yes. I, um--Alison is safe.

That's wonderful.

I'm so glad. - Hmm.

Hey, Tod, can we have a minute?

Yeah, I will F off.

Why are you looking at Bill with your mouth open?

What?

No, nothing.

He--he's my neighbor.

We're nothing but neighbors.

Yeah. There may be something stirring between us.

You better be talking about a swizzle stick.

Last night when I was zonked out

on Bev Fisher's benzos,

he walked me home

and I was overcome with...

- Gratitude? - Feelings.

A lot of feelings.

I know I sound like a teenager...

but I have been grieving Marty for so long.

I didn't realize how numb I had become.

And I don't mean to sound melodramatic,

but is it such a foolish hope for me to think that

I could once again drink from life's sweetest nectar?

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Get a hold of yourself.

That's Bill Festerson,

Bucket Hat Bill you're talking about.

And Agnes, she would hound you to your grave

if you so much as twirled your hair around her husband.

You're right. It's too risky.

It was just a flight of fancy.

I will just let my feelings fade into a frozen wasteland

like everything else and everyone else in my life.

Howdy.

Did you see that? Did you?

I did.

Hi.

Oh, boy.

Honestly, I thought I'd wake up this morning and realize,

like, maybe it was all a dream.

But she's alive, man.

She's back. - It's so weird.

I always imagined this day would feel a lot more of a...

- A celebration? - Relief.

She's been in there for weeks.

She didn't reach out, didn't miss us?

Rob thinks she's been brainwashed.

Alison? No, no way.

She always knew who she was and what she wanted.

You can't tame a wild stallion like that.

Stallions are uncastrated male horses,

you are aware of... - Okay. Whatever, dude.

Point is, you gotta figure out what's going on

from the horse's mouth without Gary being there.

How the hell do we do that?

It's Sunday.

Gary leaves the house at 11:52 AM.

He comes back two hours later carrying a black nylon bag.

It could be silk. Don't quote me on that.