Fargo

Erstwhile on Fargo...

You going by the autopsy later?

They glued his nose and mouth shut.

Are we thinking cause of death is somehow a cliffhanger?

Is that the box you took from Ennis'?

Uh-huh.

So, you figure this Thaddeus Mobley fella

had something to do with the murder?

I should say so,

seeing as how Ennis Stussy

and this Thaddeus Mobley are one and the same.

I know he wasn't from around here.

It's kind of, to be honest, a mystery.

Ennis moved to Eden Valley in 1980.

But I think he may have changed his name

before he moved here.

Did you ever hear of Thaddeus Mobley

out of Los Angeles?

No, I'm afraid not.

Oh.

Hi, uh, could I get a...

Joachim.

One cube.

And, uh, whatever this big swinging dick

over here is drinking.

Oh, no, that's... I just wanted a cream soda.

I'm not much of a drinker, in point of fact.

Ah.

Well, maybe that's why

you are the award-winning writer.

Saving some of those brain cells

for the page.

How about a nice cream soda

for my new amigo Thaddeus over here?

Do you prefer "Thaddeus", or, uh...

Uh, Tad. Thanks.

But how'd you know my name?

You are the cheddar, kid. Get used to it.

Wait, the what?

You know, you're the cheddar. The cheese.

Howard Zimmerman.

Producer.

Oh.

So, let me ask you,

you ever think about turning that...

That book of yours into a movie?

Uh...

"The Planet Wyh."

Bob Redford is the robot.

Hold the phone.

You're saying you wanna turn my book into a movie?

Uh, no, bubeleh.

I'm saying I want you to turn your book

into a major motion picture.

Colossal.

Mr. Zimmerman! Mr. Mobley!

Hold up the dingus for me and say "UFO"!

Hey, kid.

Over here.

You like?

Yeah.

Doll! Come back. I want you to meet somebody.

Hi. I'm...

This is the genius I was telling you about.

You're killing me, Howie.

Can we go eat already?

All right, sure. Just give me a sec, sweetie.

Sit down.

So, how's my screenplay coming along?

Oh, um,

you know, it's... It's pretty good, actually.

I just... I thought I would be here

maybe a week or two, you know.

And the motel's getting pretty expensive.

Relax, kid. I got you covered, totally.

Just make sure you keep all your receipts.

Mr. Beatty for you, sir.

Warren! Mi amigo, mi compadre.

Yeah. All right, don't tell me. Let me guess.

You read it, you loved it. Am I lying?

No, no, I know. It's dynamite, isn't it?

They call it a "space opera," if you can believe that.

Mmm-hmm. Yeah.

No, the kid is banging out the screenplay

now as we speak.

So, listen, is Yablans gonna let you out?

Oh, Christ.

No, no, no. I understand. No, it's fine.

Next time, bubeleh, next time, right?

For sure.

Right. Bye.

What happened?

Beatty's under contract at Paramount.

Short of us greasing a few palms,

so to speak, he's not going anywhere.

You mean bribes?

Jesus, keep your voice down, would you?

Look, it's just tit for tat out here.

That's how business is done.

Now, look, you know that I'm no Mother Teresa,

but after divorce number three, this tit is pretty tapped out.

We're gonna have to find,

I don't know, some other avenue.

Well, you know, I do have a book advance.

How much money are we talking about?

Thanks.

It makes the sex amazing.

Ah.

Minsky.

I can help.

I'm dying.

I need...

No.

It's too late for me.

You must find a way to get word back.

Let them know, it wasn't all...

For nothing.

I can help!

"Get word back," the Captain had told him.

But how?

Thus began the wander of the Android Minsky.

He was a prototype, singular in his design,

created to observe and record,

his programming not yet complete.

A child, in other words.

(OVER INTERCOM) Folks, we've begun

our descent to Los Angeles,

where the current weather is a beautiful 72 degrees.

-(SIGHS) -(INTERCOM DINGS)

Is that a typo?

Sorry?

The "why" is spelled wrong.

It's a kind of make-believe.

Oh.

Good?

Oh, there's a robot, I guess.

And he's wandering, looking for, uh...

I'm not sure, the meaning of life, I guess.

Oh.

That. Yeah.

I know how he feels.

This is my sixth flight this week.

-Isn't it Tuesday? -(LAUGHS)

Yeah.

You know, in the beginning, we swam, then we crawled,

then walked, then ran, and now...

(BELL RINGS TO THE TUNE OF A CHRISTMAS CAROL)

-Hi! Merry Christmas! -Hi.

Are you here for the convention of Santa Claus?

Why do you...

No. I'm not.

By the hour then, or...

-What? -Nothing.

Um, single room, one night?

I'm not sure how long I'll be here.

Uh, room 203. Very nice room. Very nice.

It's got air conditioning. You can smell the ocean.

There's a view?

No. There's a smell. At low tide.

Oh.

What the heck?

Stop!

Stop!

Red Honda. I got the plate number.

Yeah, that'll help.

So, what'd he look like, the, uh, bag thief?

Kinda older white male, 5'9".

Uh, green pants.

Green, what do you... Elf pants.

They're having a Santa conference.

Not sure why they chose here.

Any valuables in the bag?

Not really. Mostly flannel.

-Think I'll get it back? -(CLICKS TONGUE)

I wouldn't hold your breath.

Hey, while I got you, I got some info I need run.

Oh, yeah, we don't do that.

Sorry, I should've clarified. I'm law enforcement also,

-up Minnesota. -(LAUGHS)

Minnesota?

Exactly. Eden Valley. I'm Chief.

Or I was Chief. Or, no, I still am. Anyway...

I thought in the spirit of

inter-collegial understanding...

See, I'm in town looking into a homicide,

and the victim spent some time here, back in the '70s.

Right. Okay, I'll tell you what.

The plate number checks out, I'll come find you.

Maybe even bring that suitcase.

-(LINE RINGING) -(SIGHS)

-Hi, Mom. Hey, sport.

How's your dad's place?