Pushing Daisies s01e06 Episode Script

Previously on Pushing Daisies: - I missed you.
- I missed you too.
Can we get on with this, please? - Think I faked my death? - You've a better explanation? - Ned know what you think you know? - Who knows? Do you pet him? If you pet him, he wouldn't be naughty.
- I can't touch him but I pet him.
- With a stick? More like a handle to a petting device.
- You saved me.
- Mm! Mm.
Ned? Bedtime at the Longborough School for Boys was a time for dreams.
Dreams filled with the bliss that came from a happy childhood.
But on this night, one boy chose to dream with his eyes wide-open.
Eleven weeks, one day, seven hours and 41 minutes ago young Ned was living that happy childhood complete with a lovely home, caring mother and boyhood sweetheart: A girl he called Chuck.
But when his mother died, twice, young Ned awoke to a new reality.
Though he could reanimate the dead young Ned could only animate the inanimate with his imagination.
On this lonely night, he tried to recreate his past life.
But he'd lost his ability to dream and found even his imagination failed him.
Still, he wore hope on his head.
What young Ned didn't know was at that very moment the girl he called Chuck was wearing hope on hers.
They were together, even if they were far apart.
For unfortunately, the Pie-Maker could never, ever touch her.
Are you watching me sleep? No.
Sort of.
But mainly, I was just waiting for you to wake up.
And in the process of waiting for you to wake up, yes, I was watching you sleep.
- You do that a lot.
- It's like watching you come back to life.
- Again.
- Hmm.
Mmm! Good morning.
Oh! Ah! Ah! You're not How come I'm not? Maybe it wears off.
Maybe there's an eclipse.
Maybe - Oh, my God.
Your skin is amazing.
- Stop talking.
Oh.
We're wearing too many clothes.
- I'm still wearing too many clothes.
- You're not wearing any.
Heh.
- Oh.
- Much better.
Don't tell Chuck.
- Were you watching me sleep? - Mm Yes, I was.
- You do that a lot, don't you? - Yes, I do.
The Pie-Maker wanted to tell Chuck he liked watching the moment she waked.
That it was like watching her come back to life.
Again.
So instead he said nothing.
So the Pie-Maker sought to use Emerson Cod as a sounding board for that reality which recently included a moonlit kiss with one Olive Snook.
I had a sexy dream about Olive last night.
And I'm sure it was influenced by a reality-based kiss.
By the road.
You know? No way for this conversation to be anything but awkward for me.
She was wearing a Chuck suit.
In the dream.
What do you think it means? Dream's your brain processing rigmarole it couldn't find a place for.
Means you feel guilty about kissing Olive when you wanna kiss some dead girl.
I said beyond the obvious.
Olive kissed me.
It was an expression of gratitude.
- Was it a wet kiss or a dry kiss? - There was a little moisture.
I guess.
Oh, God.
That girl dropped a bomb in your subconscious.
You make it sound so devious.
And it's not.
It didn't mean anything, Chuck doesn't have to know.
Emerson Cod had a very particular view on romantic relations.
Some women love like gangsters.
They be like, "You bleeding? How that happen?" - While they hiding a razor.
- Olive's not a gangster.
Why you think she's rubbing up on you? To be nice.
It's an employer-employee kind of niceness that occasionally includes platonic rubbing.
Ain't nothing platonic about it.
Oh-ho.
Oh-ho.
- You're coming undone.
- I don't wanna touch Olive.
- Not in that way.
- Mm-hm.
In fact, the Pie-Maker was coming undone.
As he wrestled with the meaning of Olive's affections Olive wrestled with her own emotions about the kiss.
So she confessed.
It didn't mean a thing.
It was a friendly expression of innocent gratitude.
A peck.
It didn't even last a second.
In fact, 1001.
See? It couldn't have been half that.
- Half? - A third.
Maybe even a quarter.
Very brief.
- He didn't mention it? - No.
- Should he have? - No.
Olive Snook was saddened her kiss wasn't worth a mention.
Well, I guess Ned deserves a friendly expression of innocent gratitude.
- Don't think I'd like it if you did it again.
- Me either.
I mean, I would but not in this context.
That being said, were his lips soft? - You don't know? - We don't touch.
Well, not directly.
Prophylactically, yes, but nothing more.
You don't touch.
You don't.
I have been watching you.
I've been paying attention.
- You don't touch.
- We can't.
Which is why you kissed with a food wrap.
Can't get my head around it.
Do you have some kind of deadly food allergy to Ned? I'm gonna say yes.
I get swelling, eczema, hives.
- All things to avoid.
- That's the most tragic story I've heard.
Not withstanding the big-ticket items like genocide and famine.
But tragic nonetheless.
Oh, I don't know.
Really not that bad.
And it wasn't.
Yet.
At that very moment, Harold Hundin was experiencing something much more tragic.
His murder.
Oh The facts were these: Harold Hundin, a renowned dog breeder and president of the Papen County Kennel Club was 37 years, 11 weeks, five days, one hour and two minutes old when he was stabbed multiple times in his office at the Papen County Kennel Club.
The kennel club offered a reward for information leading to the arrest of his killer.
And where there was a reward, there was Emerson Cod.
Hello, Mr.
Hundin.
We're gonna move quickly and efficiently so pay attention, this concerns you.
You have one minute to answer questions.
- Short, concise answers.
- Feel free to elaborate if you need to.
- When do I start? - 15 seconds ago.
Any last wishes, would haves, could haves? I could say goodbye to Bubblegum.
- I have stick gum.
- Bubblegum's my dog.
Hey, if you people are angels, I would love it if you would surround her with white light or positive energy whatever it is.
She was a sweet girl.
Yeah.
Yeah.
White light.
Check.
Next question.
- Who stabbed you? - There was stabbing.
But nobody stabbed me.
Harold Hundin detailed the strange series of events that resulted in his stabbings.
Before Harold Hundin could stab himself, he was poisoned.
A puddle of spilled coffee an unfortunately positioned designer dog brush with an unfortunately sharp end - Aah! and his own tenacity expedited his death.
I tasted almonds in my coffee.
Real bitter.
Exceptionally bitter.
With an intense, charismatic flavor that could only be cyanide.
- Taste the cyanide? - A dog could.
They have 1 I6th the number of taste buds.
Then why you drink it? I was using an almond-flavored coffee cream creamer in my coffee.
Maybe it went bad, but there were no curdles.
By the time I figured it's poisoned, it was too late.
- Who gave you the coffee? - My wife.
Oh, honey.
How could you? Now that's gangster love.
"Oh, honey" is gonna get what's coming to her.
Great.
I'll come with.
See that? Simple.
Ask a question, get an answer.
No room for buttscuttle or misinterpretation.
Oh, thank you, Lord, for simple things like, "My wife did it.
" Ah.
Yes.
Hey, you find Harold's wife? All four of them.
That son of a bitch was a polygamist.
Harold Hundin was indeed a damn polygamist with multiple missis ' of which there were four.
Hilary was his first.
Heather, his second.
Simone, his third.
And Hallie was his fourth and final wife.
But only one of the Hundin wives killed their husband.
Wondering why her kiss with the Pie-Maker went unmentioned Olive Snook attempted to mention the unmentionable.
Psst.
We should clear the air.
- Does our air need clearing? - Our relations.
On the road? Oh, that.
I haven't thought another thought about that.
- Four wives? That's greedy.
- And intriguing.
Some people like vanilla.
Some, chocolate.
Others, Neapolitan.
- I like Neapolitan.
- You'd do as a polygamist.
One woman to have, one woman to hold.
Why would you do that? I'd make a horrible polygamist.
Easily distracted.
I wouldn't know where to focus.
Oh, Harold Hundin knew where to focus.
Found himself the perfect wife, except she had four heads.
- They were all breeders too.
- They make children for polygamy cult? Dog breeders.
They make dogs for their polygamy cult? Ain't nobody making nothing.
- Which wife wanted to kill him? - How do you know a wife did it? - He left a note.
- A note? How mysterious.
- Can I play? - No.
- Sorry.
Emerson doesn't - Although - I love a good although.
- Me too.
the same faces show up at different places asking questions they'll be onto us faster than you can say monogamy.
Hell, we got four suspects, we got four faces.
Yeah.
Hmm.
Does that mean I get to play? If you playing, it's like for "play" play.
You ain't getting paid.
And the suspects were these: Hilary Hundin, owner of Prêt-à-Poochie Designer Dogwear and Accessories.
She was the first to join Harold in matrimony.
Hilary Hundin was generally pleasant, happy and perky but might snap if teased or surprised.
Pluralizing the marriage was Heather Hundin a renowned pet psychologist and host of the weekly radio show, Doggonit.
Simone Hundin was Harold's third wife.
She pioneered K- 18 Obedience where demanding dog owners got double from their K-9s.
- Bang, bang, bang.
Like the Jack Russell terriers she trains and breeds Simone possesses strong hunting instincts that, if left unchecked could result in deadly aggression.
Harold Hundin's fourth and final wife was young Hallie, who bred Labradors and donated them as Seeing Eye dogs to the blind.
Like her Labs, Hallie was loyal, friendly and competitively obedient.
She craved human attention but if denied, her competitive obedience could go horribly awry.
Wait.
We're going undercover.
And by undercover I mean under no circumstances are you to reveal any factual information about your person.
- You want us to lie? - I want you to lie consistently.
We take turns with the dog.
- He has a name.
- Yeah, and you better lie about that too.
Oh.
You have a gorgeous selection of couture.
Pickle loves him some D&G.
He'd like to know if that comes in green.
Just kidding.
He really didn't say that.
Heh-heh.
Hello.
I'm Pimento.
And you are? - Ned.
- You had Ned since he was a puppy? Ned and I have been together for a very long time.
We're intimate.
But it's the appropriate human-canine sort of intimacy.
- He doesn't respect you.
- He respects me.
- Tell him to sit.
- Sit.
Damn it, dog.
You better sit your ass down.
- Ahem.
He don't wanna sit.
- Sit.
You have a very lovely home.
It feels lovely and it smells lovely.
Do you use an air purifier? It helps with the dander.
Eeh Heh.
- How did you lose your sight? - Cleaning out kitty litter I got cat sand in my eye.
- Horrible infection.
Very sad.
- I know you're not blind.
- Oh, thank you.
I felt awful doing that.
- It was humiliating for both of us.
He looks like a pickle.
Heh-heh.
Doesn't he? Do you always name your animals after food? Mm-hm.
I used to have a horse named The Pie in another life.
That's because I wanna be Elizabeth Taylor, she was pretty.
Then The Pie died.
I just lost my dog, Bubblegum.
I was in shock after I lost my Pie.
The horse, not the food.
And one day I was walking along and I saw a bakery in the shape of a giant pie.
The food, not the horse.
It was a sign.
I don't know what it said but it was there.
Are you suggesting I find the answers to life and death in a bubblegum machine? Bubblegum's dead? I looked forward to surrounding her in white light.
Wasn't sure how to do that but I thought at least I could dogsit or take her for a walk in the park.
- You knew about Bubblegum? - Harold left a note.
Well, she was everything to Harold.
We all were.
We were family.
My sister-wives and me.
You didn't mind sharing? It's not as if he treated me like one of so many buried bones he could dig up whenever he saw fit.
I didn't mean to say that.
I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him.
Literally? I was exaggerating for dramatic effect.
But that's the way I felt when we were together.
And if you feel something, it's real.
How did Bubblegum die? I backed up over her.
Didn't look where you were going? My husband was murdered and in my panic, I forgot to check my rear-view mirror.
Clearly, it's not an affectionate relationship.
Oh.
We're very affectionate.
It's just Ned's been having strange dreams lately.
His paws twitch.
He whimpers.
It'd be cute if it weren't so sad.
He may be experiencing stress-related anxiety due to mating issues.
- You're deflecting.
You're avoiding deeper discussion of Ned's mating issues.
This is making Ned uncomfortable.
Mr.
Digby, Ned's merely wrestling with the natural anxieties of an inexperienced stud.
He's had experience.
Some.
Mating isn't just for the betterment of the breed.
It's for the betterment of the dog.
Passions they never knew even existed suddenly burst forth allowing discovery of their true primal selves as they She was referring to her late husband, not Digby.
Excuse me.
Heather Hundin took a moment to mourn her husband Harold and Digby and the Pie-Maker took a moment to politely pretend not to notice.
Where were we? Howard specialized in breeds like the Jack-A-Poo.
- Jack-a what? - Jack Russell-poodle mix.
Coll-a-dor.
Lab-a-Russell.
It was a niche but it was Harold's niche.
And the apex of that niche was the creation of the perfect new breed of dog Harold Hundin named Bubblegum.
So Bubblegum was a Coll-A-Dor-Russell-A-Poo? Perfect hybrid of border collie, Labrador retriever Jack Russell terrier and poodle.
Smart, loyal, athletic and hypoallergenic.
But she's with Harold now.
Sounds like you gave Harold a long leash.
I never held Harold's leash or anything.
He wasn't my hound.
I wasn't his bitch.
He liked dogs.
I liked dogs.
- So nothing was going on between you? - What we had was a trained response.
Humans and dogs are the same.
Supply the right cue and they respond accordingly.
The only cue we ever gave each other was commercial.
So you two just used each other? Haven't you ever used someone for commercial gain? When was the last time you saw Harold alive? Right before he died.
I handed him his coffee and I kissed him goodbye.
The morning he died I gave him his coffee.
I gave him his morning coffee and it was the last I saw of him.
I said, "Why don't you come by for coffee? We had some things to discuss.
" So he came by and we discussed those things.
He took his coffee to go and then he died.
My wife did it.
She had murder in her eyes.
And that murder was couture.
- My wife gave him his coffee.
So did mine.
No wonder the guy can handle four wives.
I don't think Hallie did it.
- Didn't give me that impression.
- She give him coffee? She gave him coffee, kissed goodbye.
A confession but still don't think she did it.
There she is now.
You can ask her.
That's her.
The little one.
- Mr.
Digby.
- Hi, Hallie.
- Hi, Chuck.
- Sit.
How did you guys find us? Looked for the bakery like a giant pie.
- The food.
Not the horse.
- We understand Harold left a note.
- Who said anything about a note? - I said about the note.
"Under" meaning below.
"Cover" meaning the radar, people.
What's so hard about that to understand? - Sorry.
- Who are you people? We'll get to that once you get to this: What kind of creamer in Harold's coffee? - Soy.
- Heavy cream.
I don't put cream in coffee.
I use almond-flavored coffee cream creamer: The police wrestled little Hallie Hundin to the ground.
To the ground.
And she's small.
It was like a lion taking down a baby zebra.
We were tourists sitting safely in our camouflaged SUV watching the injustice.
Injustice? They found cyanide in her coffee.
The baby zebra's being set up.
She breeds helper puppies for blind children.
She's no killer.
- I mean, she's an angel.
- Yeah, angel of death.
Kennel club didn't think baby zebra was set up, neither did the police.
Hallie looked innocent.
Sounds silly coming from a private investigator.
- Yes, it does.
- As a baker of pies, it's not silly at all.
I look at a pie baking, I know if it's done or not done.
I can't tell you how I know or why, but I know.
It's truth from that dark, deep-rooted place deep down inside.
Pie Hole.
It's for you.
As the Pie-Maker considered all of the truths he was keeping buried within his deep-rooted place and far away from Chuck Yes, we do.
I certainly can.
Ha-ha-ha.
Bye, now.
Emerson Cod considered 25,000 new reasons to reopen the case.
We need to prove Hallie was innocent.
Your conscience calls you? Those blind kids that Hallie gave her puppies to put together a "Free Hallie" fund.
We exonerate Hallie, we collect the reward.
You're taking money from blind children? I suppose I could pay my bills with blind-kid smiles but their money is a lot easier.
Everybody's been really nice.
It's not at all like those prison exploitation films.
You don't need cigarettes, alcohol or moisturizer to use as currency? Oh, no.
That's my friend, Theresa.
She said she runs the cell block so I'm protected.
- Sleeps a lot for one who runs a block.
- Hasn't been an easy road for her.
It'll be easier for you once you help us find who killed Harold.
Hallie, was it Hilary, Heather or Simone? It couldn't have been any of my sister-wives.
We all love Harold too much to kill him.
Oh, no, it was one of your sister-wives.
Harold said so.
- In his note.
- Lf you ask me - Oh, are you asking me? - Yes.
It was Ramsfeld Snuppy.
Another niche dog breeder.
But not as niche as Harold.
Snuppy wanted our Bubblegum.
Snuppy wanted to collaborate with Harold to make super-puppies but Snuppy wanted all the doggy treats to himself.
He could've easily planted the cyanide in my almond-flavored creamer.
But murder? For a few puppies? Snuppy had big plans for her.
The facts were these: One Ramsfeld Snuppy was the son of a furniture liquidator and shopping network hand model.
Woof, woof, woof.
How much is that puppy in the window? Well, she can be yours for 12 easy payments of 129.
95.
And he went from a single storefront puppy shop in Frognot, Texas to a nationwide empire of Snuppy's Puppies chain stores.
For Ramsfeld Snuppy, money didn't grow on trees it was made in cages.
I was listening to Heather's radio show, Doggonit she said dog breeding's harder than you think.
- Looks easy enough.
- No, it's not.
All these hoops mates have to jump through to see if they're compatible.
Like their smell, their taste.
They have their own kind of doggy-kissing.
Like people-kissing.
You said you weren't gonna tell her.
- I didn't.
- You didn't have to.
Olive already did.
For the record, I preferred to hear it from you.
I didn't tell because it didn't mean anything.
Stuff happens that I don't bother sharing.
Yesterday's four-berry pie was three-and-a-half because I ran out of cranberries.
I didn't tell you that.
You did.
You asked if orange counted as berry.
I said it didn't.
No one had to know.
- I liked that you said us.
- Well, we are an us, aren't we? We're just an us with special circumstances.
Why do I always have to be around for this? Maybe we have to embrace the idea that sometimes I might have to hold someone else's hands and you might have to I don't wanna kiss anyone else's anything.
Maybe there's something to this polygamy thing, you know? Maybe one person isn't enough.
- What? Howdy, folks.
Hi.
What can I do for you? You're the man to see if we wanna get a Coll-A-Dor-Russell-A-Poo.
There's a waiting list.
We're behind on manufacturing.
Manufacturing? We had a little reproductive setback when the alpha dog got run over.
That doesn't mean there won't be a super hybrid pup under every Christmas tree.
How do you breed a Bubble that's burst? Or run over, as the case may be.
Why go through breeding when we can create the perfect copy of man's best friend every time available exclusively at a Snuppy's Puppies near you? I'm gonna clone Bubblegum from her remains.
All I gotta do is find some viable DNAs fuse into denucleated egg cells implant the eggs in surrogate dogs in all my nationwide stores and woof, woof, woof.
More litters of identical Coll-A-Dor-Russell-A-Poos than you can count.
- But Bubblegum wasn't your dog.
Well, she wasn't.
- You the Hundin lawyers? - Friends of the Hundin wives.
They saw the contract.
They know the whole deal.
I own Bubblegum, dead or alive.
Harold sold you Bubblegum? Against his wives' wishes.
Probably why they wanted him dead.
But the ink was dry before Hallie got to him.
- I got what was coming to me.
- Someone I need to see.
You knew Harold was gonna sell Bubblegum to Snuppy yet neglected to mention it in our previous conversation.
You think that gave me motive to kill my husband? That's exactly what I think.
- You think wrong.
Didn't kill Harold.
- Hallie thinks Snuppy did it.
Hallie would fetch a ball in traffic.
- But in this case, she isn't wrong.
- Keep talking.
When Harold came to us, we threatened to get an injunction as partners.
That would hold up Snuppy's plans so he killed Harold and framed Hallie.
- That's one theory.
Another is when you heard about Harold and his plan you put an injunction on his heart.
Do I seem capable of that kind of aggression? You never know what a body's capable of until you mess with their kibble.
So don't mess.
If he had paid attention while awake Emerson would've found the evidence pointing toward Simone Hundin's guilt.
Feeling something was amiss at the K- 18 dog studio Emerson Cod's subconscious mind put it together before his conscious mind could.
Someone, or some dog, was using Bubblegum's collar.
Emerson Cod's dreams had gifted him the collar as a clue.
He knew Bubblegum was alive and that Harold Hundin's killer was indeed still on the loose.
But worse, he feared he was falling for her.
Oh, that dog is alive.
Alive or alive again? - The never-been-dead kind of alive.
- Got this from a dream? Dreams are your brain processing rigmarole it couldn't find a place for.
Sometimes in that random rigmarole there's a clue.
Gonna shake down Simone.
Gonna find that dog.
If you shake Simone and the dog falls out Then she's the killer.
Fearing being alone with the girl he kissed but did not love and the girl he loved but could not kiss the Pie-Maker decided: I'll come with you.
This is a solo shaking.
- Hi.
- Hello.
Olive.
I know things have gotten awkward since the It was a kiss, and I don't think our saliva was compatible.
There's no reason to discuss, make something that isn't awkward, awkward.
Olive pondered the black mark on her relationship with the Pie-Maker she feared was inked with a permanent marker.
I really screwed the pooch, didn't I? Your order for Pickle came in.
That order was placed under false pretenses.
Fortunately, your credit card was real.
Well, happy birthday to Digby.
And congratulations to you too, I suppose.
- For what? - I heard plans for cloning Bubblegum.
Guess you'll be getting your baby back after all.
Snuppy can clone Bubblegum? Well, it has to do with DNA and nucleuses Well, I was never very good at science, but yay.
- Yay.
- Heh.
At the K- 18 Obedience Center Emerson Cod believed he had found the real killer.
Why is it Bubblegum's collar moves every time I come here? I'm thinking it's because you can't walk a dog without a collar.
And guess what else? You can't walk a dead dog.
So I'm only gonna ask you this once: Where's Bubblegum? You've got me.
I've got her.
If you knew, you'd assume I killed Harold to keep her.
Yeah, adding up to be more than just an assumption.
I can say I didn't kill my husband many times.
For measure, I didn't kill my husband.
You can say it all you want.
Only thing I wanna hear is the clickety-clack of Bubblegum's paws as you bring Exhibit A on out here.
You seem more concerned about Bubblegum than who killed Harold.
Stop playing and go show me that super-dog.
It's time for her walk anyway.
I'll go and fetch my coat.
- Grab her collar from the pedestal there.
- Okay.
Simone Hundin had been subconsciously training Emerson Cod who had a strong desire to do as she commanded.
Bubblegum, heel.
This will go a lot easier if you cooperate.
Umm! - Who do you think you're playing? - I'm asking the questions.
How long you been working for Snuppy? I don't work for Snuppy.
Blind kids with much money paid me to exonerate your sister-wife Hallie.
Don't believe you.
He hired you to see if I faked Bubblegum's death.
- Why would he do that? - He can't clone a dead dog.
He can.
You gave him everything he needed when you handed him Bubblegum's ashes.
Only they weren't Bubblegum's ashes, were they? Bubblegum, go hide.
If you'll excuse me, I have some leftover business to handle.
- And a funeral to attend.
- As long as it ain't mine, I'm cool.
That remains to be seen.
Emerson Cod's hatred of the dark began after a childhood prank in which he was locked in a washing machine for two nights.
Finding himself similarly trapped, his adrenaline levels skyrocketed to a height in which near superhuman strength was achieved.
Yah! Uh-oh.
Yeah, that's gonna bruise.
Hey, my wife is gonna kill Ramsfeld Snuppy.
She's not my wife.
Simone, the wife You know what I'm saying.
Come on! - Don't think it's almond latte.
- You think it might be cyanide? Why can't it just be simple? Easy? He says, "My wife.
" How hard could that possibly be? Hallie didn't do it, she's behind bars.
Must have been Simone.
Might not be Simone.
Simone was hiding Bubblegum, she chloroformed you and tied you up.
I'm not even gonna mention the ball gag.
That's gangster love.
See, that's what's rubbing me.
If she was gangster, she'd have busted cyanide in my ass the minute I sniffed out her dog.
- Why don't we just ask him? Ahhh Phew.
Stop! About to take another trip down Pointless Creek.
Okay, maybe Simone did it, maybe she didn't.
Harold never saw who slipped that poison into his coffee.
And Snuppy probably didn't either.
People are like dogs.
They run when they're guilty.
And Emerson Cod had a plan for how to get their guilty dog to run.
All right, let's get him ready.
- Here.
- One last touch.
Without touching him.
Would you prop him up? He look like a wino on New Year's.
Ah.
Digby, stay.
Over there.
- Get out of the way.
- Oh, certainly.
Sit.
And now Harold's sweet wives would each like to say a few words.
Harold was one of a kind.
Kindhearted, sweet Sweet smile, full of the endless love of championing Champions.
He was at the forefront of the breeding world, and the forefront of our lives.
He will be dearly missed by all.
All right, on my mark.
Mark.
That means now.
This wouldn't be my funeral, would it? You're supposed to be dead.
Ahh! Ah! - Oh! Oh! You got a mint? I got the nastiest taste in my mou Ooh! - Take care take of that? - Yeah.
Thanks.
Sic her, boys! Aah! Oh! The facts were these: When Hilary became Harold Hundin's one-and-only she thought she had the dream life.
But adding three more one-and-onlys was Harold's idea of a dream life.
She found new satisfaction as her pentagonal union produced the world's most perfect dog, Bubblegum who was truly one of a kind and the child she had always wanted.
But Harold Hundin had other plans for Bubblegum.
She'd be brought to living rooms everywhere via the nationwide chain of Snuppy's Puppies.
Everyone, he believed, deserved to have man's best, best friend.
However, when he told his first wife Hilary of his plans to clone their prized pup, her reaction was anything but perfect.
He had made his decision, Harold told her.
Bubblegum would be the canine of the future.
So Hilary made her own decision.
Refusing to subject her baby to the same torturous shared existence she had been cursed to live, Hilary poisoned Harold and framed Hallie to take any fall knowing good Hallie served, but did not drink, caffeine herself.
Careful, sweetie, it's hot.
But what the Hundin wives learned upon their husband's death was that Harold had already signed the contract.
Snuppy owned Bubblegum, dead or alive.
Snuppy can clone Bubblegum? For Hilary, hearing from Olive that Snuppy could clone the child she thought deceased was too much to bear.
Over his dead body, Bubblegum would remain unique at all costs.
What Hilary did not know was her multiple murders were for naught.
As sister-wife Simone had secretly faked Bubblegum's death the same morning Hilary took it upon herself to poison their husband.
If you weren't guilty, why'd you act like someone who was? Bubblegum.
Way to kill his deal with Snuppy kill Bubblegum.
- You faked her death.
Snuppy threw you a curveball with that contract that said that Bubblegum was his, dead or alive.
That was a surprise.
I didn't know he could clone a dead dog.
He was surprised when he discovered the ashes I turned over were nothing but a rat Bubblegum caught.
Slick.
You don't know slick.
Mm-hm.
I wish I felt more heroic tackling a woman half my size.
You brought her down.
She was your zebra.
Or the lion who had the baby zebra in her maw and you were the crocodile from nowhere.
I don't like being a crocodile but I guess so long as the baby zebra got away.
I'm gonna hug Digby and pretend that he's you.
The Pie-Maker was saddened that Chuck could hold Digby, while he had no one save the waitress who he now realized he did not want to hold.
Not in that way.
- Olive? - Still here.
I'm sorry I've been avoiding you.
And I'm sorry I said our saliva wasn't compatible.
I'm a big girl.
I'll be okay.
I know you will.
Will you? How will you ever know if your saliva is compatible unless you "kiss her" kiss her? I already know.
I think I know.
No, I know.
Or I will know.
Just takes time.
Heh.
Time can take forever.
I hope you and Chuck make it work.
I really do.
But if you can't I hope it doesn't take forever to figure that out.
I just want you to be happy.
And Olive did though she was not yet ready to let go of the hope that her perfect Pie-Maker's perfect happiness might lie with her.
- Good night.
- Yeah.
As the Pie-Maker pondered the hand that he just held he began to understand the many different forms love could take.
Each one precious in its own way.
Oh.
Thanks.
Though some were more unique than others.
You're the only one for me.
I know you feel that now but there are things you want.
- There are things we both want.
- Everyone wants stuff.
We wake up every day with a list of wishes and maybe we spend our lives trying to make those wishes come true.
But just because we want them doesn't mean we need them to be happy.
What do you need to be happy? You.