Hmm.
- Hello. - Hi there.
- Is this Ruby's Clams? - Yeah, and I'm Ruby.
Oh, good morning, I'm Irving Zweeben. I got your address from Japopo's.
- Are you a clam distributor? - Well, I'm trying to be.
It's a mom-and-pop operation, minus the pop.
Got a shit ton of snap and crackle, though.
What's your story, Irv?
Well, I'm an amateur clam grower. A "clamateur," if you will.
I just had a few questions about going pro.
Such as where do you get your clam seeds? How many have you grown?
What other restaurants have you sold them to?
Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down.
You gotta put a clam in a hot bath before she opens up.
Why don't you come inside the house?
I'd love to. But first, would you like a Danish?
I don't know what you eat or don't eat, but they're very good.
Oh, I couldn't. I'm on a diet.
I see.
Ah, fuck it.
Mm!
That is good.
Yeah.
You looked nervous, like I wasn't gonna like your Danish or something.
Well, I put a little nutmeg in it,
and I'm always afraid someone's gonna say, "Whoa, nutmeg?"
I like you, Irv.
Come on, I'm gonna show you something special.
Then maybe I'll show you my clams.
*SANTA CLARITA DIET* Season 02 Episode 09 Episode Title: "Suspicious Objects"
Starting your own real estate business, huh?
That's exciting. I'll be praying for you.
Ugh, thanks. I really need this to work.
I cost us our last job because my boss was such a fucker.
Sorry. Jerk.
My fucking boss was such a jerk!
Whoa, easy there, coconut hands.
Coconut hands?
Yeah, it's an expression for people who hit really hard.
You know, because coconuts are so hard. I came up with it myself.
Well, I really think it's gonna catch on because that's so easy to explain.
I think your new business is gonna do really well.
I mean, you're so strong and tough on the outside, and sweet on the inside.
You're like, um...
Well, I wanna say something else, but the best example is a coconut.
Okay, I guess I see how you could get there again.
Plus, you're so inspiring.
I mean, you got me to start painting again for Pete's sake.
You're just really awesome, Sheila.
Ugh. That's so nice.
Holy guacamole! Are you okay?
Oh, boy, getting hit in the face hurts.
- Do you want me to get you some ice? - No, it's, um... it's better now.
I'm glad your painting's going well.
I'd love to see it. It's just over at Lisa's, right?
Yeah, but it's not that good.
I'm sure it's great. Come on, don't be such a...
All I can think of is coconut.
It's a series. I call it "Suspicious Objects."
Wow.
Yeah?
- Hey, Abby. - Hi, Eric.
Just stopped by to see if your dad needed help
checking out the clam distributor.
I don't know if you heard, but to get the name,
I had to engage in a pretty dangerous game of cat and mouse.
- You were the mouse, right? - I also wanted to see if you were mad
I bailed on blowing up the fracking trailer with you.
But then you just called me a "mouse," so I guess that's a yes?
I'm not mad. I'm just busy, okay?
My dad's not here. If you wanna let him know you came by,
you could always leave a trail of tiny droppings on the kitchen counter.
Okay. I'm not comfortable doing something illegal,
but if you want to, that's fine, I'm not judging.
Are you making your own explosives? That's crazy! What's wrong with you?
I'm exploring options.
You bailed, so you don't get to have an opinion, okay?
Nobody likes a backseat arsonist.
All right.
Just so you know, you should be careful using a hydrocarbon-based fuel
as an accelerant, all right, because it's...
More volatile than available combustibles.
I know, Eric.
But thank you for mouse-splaining explosives to me.
Well, I could call you an animal, too.
You're like an Indian mealmoth who flies directly into a flame
because it read one book from 1971 and now it knows everything.
Yeah, well, at least a mealmoth has friends it can rely on
who won't flutter away at the first sign of trouble.
You know nothing of moths. Although, that was unbelievably accurate.
- Look at all these clams. - I grow them all right here.
They say you can't get local seafood in the desert,
but I'm gonna prove those fuckers wrong.
- Would you like a drink, Irv? - No, I'm good.
And have you proved those fuckers wrong?
How many restaurants have you sold these to?
So far, just Japopo's. That was my trial batch.
Oh, my God. Really? Just Japopo's. No one else has had these?
No, not even me. I'm allergic.
Shellfish makes my tongue swell up. Not that I'm against things swelling up.
Okey-dokey.
Listen, Ruby, I wanna buy all of these. All three tanks.
Oh, no, these aren't for sale. These are my house clams.
Yeah, that's Kevin. There's James, Alex, Peter...
Hold up. If these are your friends, which ones did you sell to Japopo's?
The ones out back.
Jesus Christ.
They're one of a kind.
My brother explores deepwater lakes all over the world.
He's one of those rich assholes who develops a dangerous hobby.
Anyway, he found a few of these in some cave 90 meters deep.
He knows I love clams so he smuggled a few through Customs for me to breed.
Family. What would we do without them?
- Where was this lake? - Somewhere in Serbia.
Serbia.
I call them "Ruby Reds." Be careful, they bite.
How many of these are there?
Well, six months ago, I had four, but they breed like crazy,
and now I have 5,000.
Tomorrow, I'm shipping them out to restaurants all over the state.
Oh, my God.
Ruby, listen to me. You can't sell these. They made people sick.
What are you talking about? Japopo's didn't complain.
They didn't know!
All right, what would it cost for me to buy all these "Ruby Reds" right now?
I'm not selling them to you. I have buyers lined up.
If this goes well, I can quit my job at the Sleep Apnea Center.
Won't have to strap wires to those fat fucks
and listen to them snore all night.
First of all, no matter how this goes, you should quit your job.
And these clams are dangerous. They have to be destroyed.
Who are you? You're not a clam hobbyist.
Do you work for Akana International Ocean Meats?
Were you sent here to seduce me out of my inventory?
No, Ruby, it's not like that. And you came on to me.
Get out.
Sheila, we have a problem.
Yes, we do. You need to get to Lisa's right now.
Anne is painting, and she is putting it all together...
Perspective, scale, depth...
Well, we have a problem here, too.
- Ah, better. - Other side.
Ah, better.
I saw the infected clams.
Ruby's is the source.
Really interesting, honey. And did you hear what I said?
Anne's got it all figured out. Artistically.
You mean not artistically,
but she's standing right next to you and we're fucked?
Yeah-huh. I'll see you when you get here.
Damn it!
And I need to get gas. Shit!
We discussed this, Marsha.
When we try to do too many things, everyone ends up disappointed.
All I'm saying, it's my sister's baby shower and I wanted to be there.
It's her third baby, Marsha. A shower's tacky.
And I told you the day would come when I'd be called into service.
You also said you wanted a big family, and that day's not coming anytime soon.
Can we just not? Can we please just not?
I'm sorry, I have a sacred purpose.
Wow, look what you did.
What did you do? What did you do?
I was sitting at my easel thinking about all the people
that have disappeared in Santa Clarita lately.
Then I just started painting the missing persons flyer for Dan.
Interesting.
Then I thought about Gary's finger that was found in Dan's cubby over there,
- so I just painted that. - Interesting.
I feel like there's another link between Gary and Dan that we just don't know yet.
But I couldn't figure it out, so I took a break and painted Joel.
So flattering. Thank you.
- Hey, why me? - Yeah, hey, why him?
I don't know.
I was painting suspicious objects and then I just thought
of that nervous smile of yours.
- Yeah, that's the one. - I'm not smiling.
Hey, what's this milkshake? That's different and fun and different.
Oh, that's a tumbler full of vomit that was found in the apartment
of a missing Serbian man who I think may have been murdered.
Wow, you're just seeing murder everywhere.
I'm starting to think that maybe Gary and Dan
didn't really know each other at all.
And maybe someone planted Gary's finger to implicate Dan,
and they're both really dead.
And the same person who killed them is also killing other people,
like the missing Nazi and the Serb.
But who? Who could be killing all of these people?
I gotta say, that theory seems crazy.
I don't wanna sound harsh,
but you should burn these before people see them and judge you.
Yeah, my boss didn't buy it, either. And that was harsh.
Well, still, maybe you should listen to your boss.
He is a boss for a reason.
I'm sorry if I sounded harsh, but I need you to understand.
- No one's gonna buy these. - It's just that murder's such a downer.
Maybe paint something cute.
- I'd love to see your take on a baby. - Or a lizard.
- Or a lizard baby. - Nobody's painting lizard babies.
Mm-mm.
God damn it!
Anne's one Nazi-in-a-wheelchair painting away from nailing us.
Well, at least her boss doesn't believe her.
And what are we supposed to do with this?
I don't know. I just thought it was a bad idea to have her staring at you
while she's trying to solve our crimes.
Also, we don't have any paintings of you.
And if buying art isn't an effective way to shut Anne down? What then?
- We can't kill her. - I know.
- We only kill bad people. - I know.
But what if she secretly is bad?
She seems nice, but it's always the people you least expect
that do the worst things.
That's us. You're describing us.
Yeah, it did sound familiar.
I like Anne. She's my friend.
- We're not killing her. - No, you're right. That's off the table.
Can we blind her? Is that something?
I don't wanna blind my friend.
Plus, that sounds even harder than killing her.
Yeah, it would require a lot of precision. And we're not precise people.
I'm sorry, honey. This whole thing is my fault.
No, it's not, sweetie.
It's not just Anne. I screwed up, Joel.
I never told you this, but that night at Japopo's,
I thought the clams smelled off.
But back then, I was too timid to complain.
It's not your fault.
- I shouldn't have eaten them. - Please, honey, it's not you.
We shouldn't have even gone out that night.
- I was supposed to cook. - You got stuck on a work call.
- We had to go out. - Right. A work call.
That's probably Rick. I called him for help.
Oh, yeah.
Five thousand of these infected clams are being shipped out tomorrow.
So, if we don't do something, the world is gonna end.
Well, dang.
Problem solved.
Called in a favor with a friend of mine at the health department.
That's great!
I couldn't even get someone on the phone. What'd he say?
Why do you assume it's a man? Sexist.
I'm sorry. What did she say?
It is a man, but you should question your assumptions.
That's the only way the world's ever gonna change.
I love that your police department made you take a sensitivity class,
but I don't have time for this.
There's always time to respect the differences that make us great.
I got an A.
Anyway, my friend will send someone next week
- to help out with your clam problem. - Next week?
That's not good enough, Rick. I need this handled today.
Whoa, buddy. Wha...? We've been friends a long time.
I know something's been going on with you lately.
Why don't you tell me what it is?
I discovered bad clams,
and as a responsible citizen, I feel I must intervene.
Fine, don't tell me.
- I'm sorry, Rick. - I'm trying to be a friend to you, Joel,
but you keep pushing me away, and it's breaking my heart.
Fuck the sensitivity class. It's turned me inside out.
Rick was no help, and I think we just broke up.
I'm sorry, honey.
What are we gonna do? We've got Anne closing in on us
and an army of undead clams about to wipe out civilization.
Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I think our gardener stole another hose.
God, it's just one thing after another.
Okay, right now, Anne's boss isn't taking her seriously.
But these clams go out tomorrow.
We need to destroy these ginger bitches tonight.
Right! Why do you assume they're female?
I just... I don't know. I guess I need to work on that.
Sexist.
Oh, you heard my conversation with Rick. Nice.
Okay, so to kill 30 tubs of clams in a hurry,
I wanted to use something readily available.
First, I tried sending an electrical current through salt water,
but our little friend just vibrated and then ejaculated something.
- Not trying to shame him. - Perfectly natural, go on.
Then I put it in antifreeze,
which would've killed one of these normal clams in seconds,
but still no effect.
And now it is in bleach,
which is strong enough to sterilize the urinals at Dodger Stadium
and as I recently learned to get clam ejaculate out of a lab coat.
- What's cracking, clam assassins? - The antifreeze didn't work
and your mother can tell you about the electrical current.
Everything's riding on the bleach.
Look, it's opening up. They do that when they're dying.
Definitely not dead.
Oh!
Holy shit!
Oh!
He or she is eating him or her.
So, not bleach?
So, I'm thinking game over.
What does everyone wanna do for our last night on Earth?
I've never eaten a pomegranate.
I don't know, Eric. They stain, so it's super dangerous.
Look, here's what I found in the Serbian book.
They burned Pozica to get rid of the virus.
Maybe fire could destroy these little dudes, too.
Why do you assume they're male, Abby?
Well, hot enough temperatures will incinerate anything,
living or dead, male or female.
So why don't we just torch the whole clam farm?
Maybe because starting a big fire is reckless and dangerous, Abby.
Well, not if we work together and have each other's backs, Eric.
I can't help but notice
you two are pointedly saying each other's names in a hurtful way.
Which we, damn it, don't have time to explore.
Right.
So no open flames. It's brush fire season.
And I've already caused enough destruction in Santa Clarita without burning it down.
Ruby works nights. We could go to her place, steal the clams,
and then burn them somewhere where we can control.
- Like in our oven. - A regular oven doesn't get hot enough.
To turn these to dust, it's gotta be above 1500 degrees.
There's a big kiln at Color Me Mine. And I have a friend who works there.
Totally reliable. Wouldn't flake at the last second. You know, a friend.
You mean someone who doesn't pressure you to do things you don't wanna do?
Something is going on with these two.
Teenagers. They even make the apocalypse about them.
Okay, clams, Sheriff Anne, their issues, confronting the gardener.
That feels like the right order of importance.
- I agree. - We'll gather up the clams
and meet you at the back of Color Me Mine.
We'll text you when we're on our way.
And if there's any problem with the kiln, let us know and we'll go to plan B.
- Which is? - We watch Eric eat a pomegranate.
Wow.
It's kind of beautiful.
I am unbelievably sweaty.
Yeah, well, Eric was just trying to protect you against contamination
in case a clam bites you, or, God forbid, ejaculates on you.
World's worst porn.
- There are so many of them. - We should get started.
We only have a few hours until Ruby gets home.
Also, I think I have an ant in here with me.
By the way, the friend of mine who works here, it's Sven.
- Are you gonna be okay with that? - Obviously you didn't think I would be
or you would've mentioned it on the drive over.
- But, yes, I'm okay with that. - Okay, good.
'Cause in order to get what we want, I'm gonna flirt a little.
Whatever you have to do, do it. I'll be fine.
- Okay. - Hey, sorry, guys, we're closed.
Oh.
Hey, Abby.
- Hi, Sven. - God damn it.
I was wondering if you wanted to see a movie together after you...
get off.
Yeah, sure. Why is he here?
He's doing a super secret pottery project,
and I would just consider it a huge favor
if you could let him use your hot, hot kiln while...
you and I are share a lick - orice and a Butt - erfinger.
Um, no, I can't leave him alone with the kiln.
What if he burns the entire place down?
I could be arrested, kiss college goodbye.
But kiss me hello.
Abby, I don't think it's working.
I apologize. This is a new muscle for me.
Look, Sven, I was in your English class.
You're gonna be at this Color Me Mine the rest of your life
unless someone writes your college essays for you.
Which I will do if you leave us the keys and walk away.
All right. Text me when you're done.
Thanks for doing that.
- No problem. - Listen.
I was a dick before. You do a lot for me and I'm sorry I forgot that for a minute.
- It's okay. - No. I don't like a lot of people.
So I can't afford to be pissing off the ones I do like.
- So, are we good? - Yeah.
Color Me "Fine."
That reminds me, please, please don't tell anyone about my flirting.
- Don't worry. I couldn't even describe it. - I deserve that.
Halfway through.
- You're such a good man. - You don't need to say that.
Seriously, you're the best husband an undead wife could ever ask for.
Putting up with Nazis, murder, suspicious cops.
And you lost your best friend today
because I had to order the clams at Japopo's.
You didn't do anything wrong.
Look at how red these shells are. I should've noticed.
They were drenched in marinara and the battery in our candle was dead.
I wanted the chicken marsala, but the waiter said,
"We have one special left," and it felt exclusive, and I'm so stupid.
- Sheila. - What?
It wasn't your fault. It was mine.
- What are you talking about? - I'm the reason you died.
That night we went to Japopo's, I was supposed to cook dinner.
- Right, but you had a work call. - I lied.
You weren't home, I smoked a little pot,
and instead of cooking, I watched "Epic Dog Fails" on YouTube.
Then I wanted pizza, so I told you I got stuck on a work call and we had to go out.
So all this happened because you got high and wanted to watch a stupid dog video?
Yes. It's my fault.
Oh, my God.
Wait a minute.
- I sent you that video. - You did?
So maybe this is my fault.
But Evelyn gave me that video from work, and her mom gave it to her.
You think this is Evelyn's mom's fault?
Maybe it's the dogs in that video
who think they can make sharp turns on linoleum.
Maybe it's cavemen who decided to turn wolves into pets.
So you're saying it's everybody's fault? But mostly cavemen?
No. I'm saying it's nobody's fault.
Joel...
it's nobody's fault.
Thank you.
I'm coming for you, you clam-thieving motherfuckers.
Besides, maybe it's a good thing that it happened to us.
How is it good?
Because we're trying to stop it from spreading.
And maybe someone else wouldn't even care.
Right. Maybe we are good people.
I'm gonna go with we are.
Not from where I'm standing.
Irving, you thieving son of a bitch. Get out of my tubs.
Ruby, I can explain. I'm bringing you more clams in these bags.
- Bullshit. - Ruby, listen to me.
What Isaac is trying to say...
- Irving. - Irving.
Oh, okay. Well, you know what? I didn't have anything anyway.
First, you waltz in here this morning trying to seduce me.
Then you send your two lackeys to interrogate me.
I was halfway to work before I realized my clams might be in danger.
Wait, did you say "lackeys"?
What lackeys? We don't have any lackeys.
Oh!
What the fuck?
You missed.
Thank you, Marsha. That's great feedback.
- What the hell happened? - It's like a bomb went off.
Christ, I had no idea the seafood business was this competitive.
God...
Oh, my God. No!
Okay, that's it. I'm out, you win.
Please, just spare my house clams.
- We didn't do this. - Yeah, we're good people.
- I think we should run. - I agree.
Holy fuck, it worked. You did it!
Now all we have to do is track down whoever ate those clams and kill them.
Totally.
What are you looking at?
- You. Let's go home and make a baby. - Don't say that if you don't mean it.
Don't look beautiful if you don't want me to love you.
- Who the hell did that? - I don't know, but they're serious.
No one casually owns a rocket launcher.
Do you think it was those lackeys Ruby was talking about?
Maybe.
Well, if they knew about the clams, how long until they find out about us?
This seems like a conversation we could have
- while getting the fuck out of here! - Right.
- Here. - Thank you.
I texted Abby and told her we destroyed the clams.
- You said we destroyed the clams? - Yeah. I figured we could use a win.
We saved the world. Almost.
Yeah, it's not our fault someone saved it first.
It's Anne.
Shit!
- Hi, Anne. - Hi.
I just came over to say thank you. You know, when you guys told me
that my theory on the missing people was half-baked?
It was a little runny in the middle, yes.
Well, your skepticism made me dig deeper.
And I looked more into that missing Nazi, and it turns out that he dated,
wait for it...
Gary's niece.
Whoa.
And two more Nazis have also gone missing.
Whoa.
Yeah. It's all connecting. I told my boss and he wants me to take it to Homicide.
- Homicide? - Homicide.
Yeah, once those guys sink their teeth into something, there's no letting up.
So by next week, there could be a whole team of detectives working on this.
- But... but what about painting lizards? - Yeah.
- Where are the fucking lizards, Anne? - Right here.
It's a baby one, like you wanted, as a thank-you.
If you hadn't warned me how weak my theory was,
then I would've kept pushing it to my boss and I would've lost all credibility.
- You're welcome. - Anyway, I gotta get going.
Lisa's baptism is tomorrow and I'm putting together a banging pray-list.
See you there!
- Homicide detectives! - I know!
Remember an hour ago when someone shot a rocket at us?
- Yeah. - What if those were the good times?