United States of Tara

Previously on "United States of Tara"...

Chicken is missing.

She was playing in the cornfield,

when something unspeakable happened to her.

I killed her.

And who are you?

I'm Bryce Craine.

The relevant term here is "abuser alter."

It's a personality modeled on a primary abuser —

caretaker, family member...

Or stepbrother.

Bryce?

The self turning against itself,

which accounts for your cutting.

Isn't it wonderful?

It's like...

Christmas every day.

Lionel Trane's dead. It was a car accident.

I'll go to Manhattan.

I think it's best for everyone that I not hang around.

You even know where you're going?

Yeah.

I want to make my own problems.

That's my right as a human fucking being.

And so I choose you.

Be my problem.

The little girl, the Jew, the poncho —

three down, three to go.

And then?

It's just me and her.

When's Tara coming back?

She's not.

Morning.

You're a savior.

Psst!

Hey, Max-aroo.

Get me one of them beers, would ya?

Buck?

Hurry up. I ain't got much time.

Well, get a cold one from the back, for Christ's sakes.

This is my last goddamn meal.

What the fuck are you doing?

I'm sayin' goodbye, hombre.

Just put it on the counter there.

What do you mean, "goodbye"?

We got a 'nam situation in the medulla oblongata here.

People tryin' to get out, and there ain't no choppers.

And that fucker Bryce is pickin' us off one by one.

Well, I ain't takin' no dirt nap without a final beer.

I want to talk to Tara.

Good luck.

If you see her, tell her I tried my best.

Oh, and please tell char,

even though it never worked out between us,

I still think about her.

I will — I guess.

Uh, let me just —

Oh, shit. Here he comes.

Listen, my ashes are to be mixed with a fifth of Jack Daniel's

and poured onto the grave of Mr. John Wayne —

Pacific View Memorial Park,

Bayview Terrace, Section 575.

You got it?

Ash— what ashes?

Courage is bein' scared to death and saddlin' up anyway.

Do your worst, Bryce, you motherfucker!

Then he chugs the beer and is like, "adios, muchachos." Gone.

And this is Buck?

Yeah, and then Bryce is standing there,

and he's describing in really, really sick fucking detail —

like "blood and guts on the wall" detail —

how he killed Buck in Tara's head.

So, now you're stashing Buck's guns and stabby shit in my house.

Isn't even half of it. Haven't even checked the basement yet.

Neil: Okay.

This used to be my coffee table...

Up until about three months ago.

Also, a habitat for ferrets.

Oh, they got out. Huh.

Okay, I'm just gonna say it —

at what point do we consider having her, you know, committed?

"We"?

She's my sister.

Look, she's fine.

I mean — I mean, she's not fine, but —

Max Look at what you're doing.

Yeah, I know — it's fucked up.

But the Overland Park mental-health system

hasn't exactly worked wonders for us in the past.

Look, she'll come back to us. She always comes back.

Remember when Buck joined the merchant marines?

You just said Buck was dead.

I'll take care of it.

I don't think you can this time.

I'll get her back. Just trust me.

Wow.

What do you think?

Well, I-I don't know.

I mean, it's not really my place to, you know, say any—

Out with it.

I think we should sell the house and move to Houston.

What?

For business purposes, all right?

Not because your sister's a child molester.

Are you serious?

Yeah.

No, you're right. It's because of the child molesting.

It was my dad again.

Oh?

Checking in.

I guess mom's not doing so well. She's still, um...

Fruitcake.

I don't think that's the technical term.

Since we're in the Christmas spirit,

I thought we'd have a slice.

Oh.

1974.

Year they found that skeleton in Ethiopia —

called her "Lucy."

Your grandfather bought a Samsonite case for $62,

which was very expensive, but it had wheels.

Used to pull your father around on it.

He wants me to come home — dad.

He needs help, but...

...I don't know if I want to deal with her.

Don't be silly. She's your mother.

You — you have to love her,

no matter how crazy you think she is.

So... here.

Your dad loves fruitcake.

Down here spanking the monkey?

Want to borrow my jizz sock?

Just hiding Buck's arsenal from bad little boys.

Geez, who do I have to kill

to get a little respect around here?

Oh, don't act like you miss them.

I get this done, and we're both free —

no more crazy town.

We get real lives.

The life I want is with my wife.

She doesn't deserve you, sporto.

Does she deserve you?

Marshall: Dad?

Oh, great — the little prince.

Down here, buddy.

Nice haircut. Still Bryce?

You still chugging cock?

Thanks for coming, Marsh.

Yeah, no problem. Glad to help.

Family crisis and all that.

Sandy: I don't want to go down there. It's dark.

Fuck me! Hey, mom!

You need some stick 'n' click lights on these stairs.

They're only $9.95 for a package of three at the Target.

Why are we all underground?

Uh, grandma, this is Bryce.

Your haircut looks strange on a girl.

Go to hell, prune face.

Hey, ma, we got us a little situation down here.

I brought you a fruitcake.

You sure did.

Oh, I get it — you're talking about me.

Kate: Hello?

Max: Downstairs.

Is that a penis?

Oh, barely.

Just cleaning up.

Ohhhh.

Is this a Torando?

I an not doing it again sober.

Hello, cupcake.

Oh, this is so wrong.

Maxie, why do you have these boxes of guns and pornography?

They're not mine.

That's what you said when I found the marijuana in your pants.

Excuse me? Marshall: Kate, you met grandma Sandy?

Oh, wow. Yeah, sorta.

You smell good.

Fuck off!

Looks like I'm gonna need

that jizz sock a while longer, Max.

Did she say "jizz"?

- Unfortunately. - Yep.

Max: Okay, guys, look.

I know it seems like things are out of control,

but we're gonna get back on track, I promise.

We just got to — got to stick together

like a unit — family unit.

We got to keep remembering to have normal family fun,

do normal-family-fun stuff, okay?

Now, your mom — she's coming back, just like always.