- Synced and corrected by Firefly - - www.addic7ed.com -
_
Hello, Whitlock students. I'm Mr. Pugh.
And I'm very excited to invite you
to join the Toledo chapter
of Ohio Naturalists.
The program offers hands-on learning
and a chance to become a citizen scientist.
Oh, hello, Mr. Bee.
Oh.
Looks like somebody wants to get on camera.
Uh, this year, we're going on an overnight field trip
to Swan Creek Preserve Metropark...
the bees are back. Ah.
Brought a friend. Or two.
Uh, you know, bees are actually...
they're very friendly.
They... they know not to attack
unless they're feeling threatened or...
Bananas!
Got me.
Sometimes they get confused, but...
Owee.
Oh, well, uh...
We will, uh, embark on a variety of activities.
Uh, from bird counts to stream sampling.
Plant identi... please go away from...
Oh, no.
I stepped on a goose nest.
Oh. Its babies.
I squished them. Oh, no.
Go away!
- Aw, God. Would you please stop? - _
I'm nice.
Mr. Pugh asked me to edit that out,
but I do not know how to do that.
Okay, Rams.
Get ready to grab the day by...
When you're in the wild,
if you need to heighten your sense of smell,
you lick your fingers and wet your nostrils.
Like so.
Like, if I'm a wolf?
And I wanna sniff out a fat bunny?
Hm.
All right.
Begin shutting your mouths up.
I cannot believe I'm saying this,
but Sarika is now my favorite.
Yeah... her aunt wants to publish my book,
"The Pursuit of Happiness Through Societal Regression".
We're meeting for dinner tonight at Mansy's.
Mansy's is very romantic.
I took Sarah, my college girlfriend, there.
Oh! You gave her a name!
Nice! But this is not a date.
Besides, my aunt only goes for guys who drive BMWs.
Not driver's ed cars.
And Heather's back to being my favorite.
Don't call it a comeback.
Okay. Yeah.
So I guess the only question that remains is
how should I pose for the photo
on the back cover of my book, you know?
Oh. Maybe I'll hold this skull.
Like Hamlet. You know?
But it'd be like this child's skill,
so my hands look bigger.
_
You know, so my hands look bigger.
Right. Let's hold off on that.
Oh, okay.
I read the first chapter of your book.
You're clearly a good writer.
Oh. Thanks.
Yeah, I write to discover what I know.
That's Flannery O'Connor.
Cool.
Now, perhaps you've heard of my client,
best-selling author, Robin Schwonk.
The final book in his "Rock Bottom" trilogy,
"Disgraced", is set to be released in three weeks.
But he's having a personal trauma,
and hasn't written it.
His beloved Pekingese has Psoriasis.
Sorry, the elbow rash stuff?
On a dog?
We need "Disgraced" ASAP.
We have 50,000 pre-sales, and I have spent the money.
I finally had my shoulders done.
Oh, good... good. Yeah, no... sorry.
What does this have to do with my book?
This is your book.
I want you to write "Disgraced".
Uh...
"A brilliant but emotionally stunted psychopath
is disgraced and moves home to the Midwest.
His intense shame drives him to murder".
I mean, the main character is basically you.
No, I... I don't relate to that character at all.
Excuse me, sir. Is this your child's skull?
It is.
I just got chills.
You're perfect.
Sarika told me you were fired from Harvard,
and live in your dead mother's apartment.
- Townhome. - You are "Disgraced".
Sorry, I live in my dead mother's townhome.
You'll be paid, of course.
And if you nail this, I will do everything I can
to get your book published.
Okay.
I'm in.
Ow, ow, ow, ow.
Oh, oh. Shoulders.
Right.
_
Oh. Good morning, ladies.
While you were out buying
paintings of wine bottles at TJ Maxx,
I pulled one over on the rubes who buy books at airports.
- I wrote a Schwonk. - Whoa.
You wrote a book for Robin Schwonk?
- Mm-hmm. - Dang.
I still remember reading "Bone Freaks" when I was 13.
That's where I learned the word "areola".
- Oh. - Anyway, I think you guys are gonna be
the perfect audience for this, I do.
Check... check this out.
"I woke up in a seedy motel.
What was left of the desk clerk stared back to me.
- Eyes vacant..." - Oh, God, stop!
That's giving me the creep sweats.
Hey, creep sweats are the panties thrown on stage
of horror writing, so.
Jesus, Jack.
It's 8:00 in the morning.
Yeah, oh, sorry. I haven't slept.
Uh-uh. You know what you see.
That is exactly why he's listed in my "If I Go Missing" kit.
What's an "If I Go Missing" kit?
So it is a kit that you make for the police
in case you go missing.
And inside it has all your passwords,
your DNA, a recent photo of you for the news,
and a list of men you think might wanna kill or kidnap you.
Every lady needs one.
Except me because I'm microchipped.
However, I did make a "If Durbin Goes Missing" kit.
And just for your information, it is in this drawer here.
And it is always locked.
Nope. Not locked.
All right. Let me show you.
Ooh.
Very top secret.
I've got a blood sample.
I won't tell you what hole that came out of.
Michelle, the point is
you needed a kit like yesterday, okay?
Like, watch a "Dateline".
Well. Kiddos.
This weekend, I crapped out a Robin Schwonk novel.
Uh, all due respect, boss.
Robin Schwonk doesn't use ghost writers.
Well, this is a one-time thing, Heather.
He's in a dark place right now.
Apparently his dog. has Psoriasis
Millie? Oh, no.
Mm-hmm.
- Hello? - Jack Griffin.
Hey. Robin Schwonk.
I just finished reading your draft of "Disgraced".
You did? Great.
Mm-hmm. Yeah.
No let me ask you something.
Do you like messing with me?
'Cause I just finished wiping my ass with that pile of shit.
Have you even read any of my trilogies?
'Cause this is nothing like my work.
I'm not gonna put my name on this, you little piggie!
- Next. - Hold on.
Hello, sweetie.
I'm here to pick up Psoriasis cream
for Millie Schwonk.
Say, where's Margaret anyway?
Oh! There she is.
I didn't see you back there, doll.
How are you?
Well, sweetie, you look great with a tan.
Hawaii? Oh, well.
I gotta change my line of work.
Hello? Wh...
Yeah, Jackie.
Let's fix this. Okay, bud?
Let's get it done.
Okay. Bye-bye now.
Oh...
Well.
There's eight hours of work down the drain.
So he hated it, huh?
Well you did say you crapped it out, so,
you know, that had me worried since Jump Street.
Marcus, go stick your hand in the window sill.
Dan, slam the window down on it as hard as you can.
Okay, you know I can't do that, Mr. G.
Come on, boss.
You gotta have thick skin in the writing biz.
I have had ten stories rejected by the "Whitlock Gazette",
and I'm "friends with the editor".
I told you.
We don't publish mature content.
Fact.
Two of the greatest minds on the planet,
Schwonk and Griffin, are teaming up.
And I, Heather Marie Willmore,
will be able to help them both.
We can fix this, comrade.
Let's do it for Millie.
Who's Mille again?
That's Schwonk's Psoriasis dog.
I think the millionaire's ashy bitch is gonna be okay.
I have Psoriasis, but no one's worried about me.
You all won't even look at me!
Look at me!
- I did a lot of photos - _
for my "If I Go Missing" kit,
because let's be honest.
You don't know what state you're gonna be in
if and when the police find you.
So, this is if I've been missing in the woods
for a couple weeks. Mm!
Here's if I've disappeared from a cruise ship.
- Oh. - Oh!
And this is if I get taken
from an award ceremony.
And if I'm found dead at the ceremony.
- Oh. - Oh, cute, right?
Now, I went ahead and left instructions for my funeral.
- Oh. - Yes.
"First, my silky-voiced cousin Reggie will read my eulogy.
But if he's no longer with us,
I guess my sister, Angela, can do it.
But please tell her to focus.
Because her S's can be too lazy".
- Mm-hmm. - Wow.
I can't even think of anyone
for my list of men who are likely to kidnap or kill me.
- I'm... - Keith.
- Like, 100% Keith. - Your husband, Keith.
Like, Keith would absolutely kill you.
Keith will be the one to murder you.
It'll be Keith.
In the dead of the night.
It's always the husband, Michelle.
Um, just curious.
Uh, did one of you happen to sneak into my email,
and send a funny but hurtful message
to the whole school from my account?
Oh. You mean this email that says,
"I HAVE A DIRTY BUTT" in call caps?
That's funny.
For the record, my butt is very clean.
- Okay? - Oh.
You know... you know the commercial where...
where the dirty dish gets dunked
into the warm, soapy water,
and when it comes out, all the food comes off?
Well, same situation back there.
It's spotless.
I... I'm a little cocky about it.
Durbs, you got hacked, okay?
You need to change all of your passwords.
I'm locked out, okay? Look.
If one of you is pranking me, I'm totally cool with it.
I can take a dirty butt joke as well as the next guy.
Maybe even better because mine is so clean.
Show us, show us,
show us, show us!
I don't know.
I... I still feel like he can kill the janitor
just for the hell of it.
No, if this is gonna be a bona fide Schwonk,
the murderer can't just be a bad guy, boss.
He has to be possessed by something.
Maybe he's possessed by a dead altar boy.
I was for a while. That's how I know Latin.
Spiritus cadem m...
Don't let her finish!
Okay, guys,
Robin Schwonk never vilifies animals or children, okay?
He's not just a genius. He is a good man.
Now think.
What is the killer possessed by?
It should be something in nature.
Pinecone.
What's that, Yuyao? Pinecone?
Did you just say pinecone, Yuyao?
Acorn.
- Yuyao. - Oh, my God.
- That's terrible. - Aww, Yuyao.
Still better than what Marcus said though.
- I didn't say anything yet. - I got it, okay.
What if the disgraced teacher
is swimming during a full moon,
and gets possessed by a demon lake?
And then he gives the corpses of his murder victims
to the lake as a gift.
Oh. That's good.
Y'all are creepy as hell.
This is why I don't join your Naturalists camping club.
I'd be getting a nice char on my s'more.
And bam!
I get a hatchet to the neck.
- That's good. - Write that down.
Yeah.
Can we please stop summoning evil toward us?
That's it. An evil tortoise.
He's possessed by an evil tortoise.
Okay, this is good.
This is good stuff. Yeah.
I mean, not the tortoise thing,
or anything Marcus has been saying,
but, you know, the Heather stuff.
Yeah. Nice.
♪ And please water my ferns ♪
♪ When I go to Cabo ♪
Hey. Hey.
Sorry, uh, I've been sent by the hacker.
They get your passwords too?
He or she got into my Minecraft,
and broke my smoke cabin.
Did your wolves get out?
They said that the only way for me to get my life back
is if I read you this note.
"Principal Durbin,
If you want access to your email,
you have to let
everyone in Ohio Naturalists
go on the overnight field trip,
whether or not they have a permission slip".
Damn it!
This psycho is asking for my integrity.
Yeah, it's such a... such a bummer, huh?
You don't know what they took from me, Vic.
20 years of precious emails from my ex-wife, Brenda.
Including the one where she accepted my marriage proposal.
There's gotta be something I can do.
There's only one other option,
but it... it's too horrible to even say.
During the announcements tomorrow,
"You have to wash your dirty butt
with the chemistry class's eye-washing station".
The whole field trip permission slip thing
doesn't sound that bad.
Like, comparatively.
Go now.
Leave me.
Morning, Heather.
I was up all night,
but I sent your changes in at 6 a.m. and it's good.
It's really good.
I think Schwonk is gonna love it.
And then it's on to my book, so.
Oh.
All right. It's your boy.
Here we go.
Mr. Schwonk, what'd you think?
Hey, Jack! I gotta tell you.
I am very impressed.
Very impressed.
In fact, I think you've invented
a whole new genre of literature.
And I would call it "shit lit!"
He gets possessed by a demon lake?
What the hell is a demon lake?
Did an ignorant child write this?
A lake isn't scary, 'cause you can just get away from it.
A river. Now, a river is scary.
Because it moves. It follows you.
Oh!
And then the murderer gets possessed
while he's swimming?
I already wrote that in my "Underwater Demon" trilogy.
Why would I plagiarize myself, you ass?
I'd be ruined! This is donkey crap!
Okay. Bye-bye now.
I forgot about the "Underwater Demon" trilogy.
I don't know why I thought my ideas were good enough.
No, your ideas are good. Okay?
In fact, they're too good for him.
So we're keeping the book, all right?
Schwonk can't have it.
Excuse me, Jackie. I'm still here.
Couldn't hang up 'cause I'm eating a hard shell taco.
That's a two-handed operation.
Jackie, baby.
Schwonk can't have it?
Schwonk gets whatever Schwonk wants.
Nobody knows your name.
And they never will!
Oopsie. Honey?
I'm gonna need a napkin.
No, Wendy, the meat's delicious.
It's just wet.
Jack, make it right, and fix the bad parts!
Get this done or your little book will never get published!
Oh, honey, I'm gonna need another napkin.
All right. Thanks, Jack.
Appreciate it. Bye-bye now.
Bye-bye.
I'm sorry, boss.
I let you down.
Make it right and fix the bad parts!
Jackie.
Okay, bye-bye now.
Keith!
- Your husband, Keith. - 100% Keith.
It's always the husband, Michelle.
Show us, show us, show us!
I have a dirty butt!
I'm here to pick up Psoriasis cream
for Millie Schwonk.
Did an ignorant child write this?
This is donkey crap!
- Love you. - Love you too.
Why would I plagiarize myself, you ass?
I'd be ruined!
- And then it's on to my book. - _
Is someone there?
Plagiarism, boss.
Jesus, Heather.
You need to use the doorbell.
He said no one would ever know your name.
Let's prove him wrong.
Let's have Schwonk plagiarize Griffin.
Yes. That is brilliant.
It's a plagiarism time bomb.
When it explodes, Schwonk will be ruined,
and the world will know your name.
_
Oh!
We out-Schwonk-ed Schwonk last night.
We planted passages from my book into his manuscript.
So as soon as he goes to print, we'll expose him.
Mr. Griffin's name will be everywhere.
His book will fly off the shelves.
Well there's not really a market for philosophy books.
If anything, Malcolm Gladwell's sociology books
kind of scratch that itch,
but maybe I'm just
an outlier.
Anyone... can anyone please
slam Marcus's fingers into the window sill?
Maybe I could.
Looks like you guys have reached your
tipping point.
Oh.
Wait, wait, wait. Wait, wait.
Wait.
Ugh, it's Schwonk.
- Um... - Oh, put it on speaker.
Yeah, okay.
Ugh. All right.
Hey, Jack. Its Schwonk.
Great news.
You passed the test. You won.
- Won what? - Everything.
Well, that's why I was so hard on you, son.
I had to make sure you were up to the task.
Don't you get it?
You're Schwonk now.
Oh, uh...
Wow, this took a weird turn. Um...
You're gonna write a lot of novels,
and I can finally retire.
Sorry, hang on a second, Jack.
Excuse me, pal.
Get your hand out of my freaking pocket.
Uh, Schwonk, you okay?
Hey, Jack, Christ, I think I'm getting robbed here.
Don't fight it. Just... just let them have...
All right, all right. Take whatever you want.
That... no, not the Psoriasis cream!
Jack, I gotta go.
Okay, buddy. Remember... you're Schwonk now.
Okay, all right. Talk soon, bye-bye.
No, no. it's for my dog!
Of course.
He was pulling a Willy Wonka.
Huh.
Students and faculty.
You are about to witness something
you will not be able to unsee.
Oh, no!
What I'm about to do,
I do to regain access to the precious memories
in my hacked email account.
Memories which include, but are not limited to,
a picture of me and my ex-wife
backstage with Adam Levine.
Adam was as gracious as you would expect him to be.
Especially given his legacy of musc...
Ralph.
The water is at temperature.
Wait, stop, stop! It was me.
I'm the blackmailer.
I didn't think you would actually go through with it.
Oh, thank God!
Show's over. Grab the day by the horns!
Bye.
It was you?
But how did you do it?
Well, I asked Ms. Damarcus
for my homeroom attendance folder,
and she gave me this.
It has, like, all of your passwords in it.
God.
It's all my fault.
I'm so sorry, it's just...
my mom won't let me go on the Ohio Naturalists field trip.
And Mr. Pugh lets boys and girls sleep together
in the same lodge.
And you can zip your sleeping bag up with a girl.
And if I don't go,
Eduardo might zip his sleeping bag up with Grace's!
Oh, my God.
I didn't know Mr. Pugh allowed teenage co-bagging.
That trip is cancelled!
What an elegant solution.
Anyway, we cool?
No, we're not cool!
You have in-school suspension. Two weeks.
_
Hello. Hey, hey, hey.
Look at this, kiddos.
Look... look what Robin Schwonk sent.
His... his book came out.
- So, you know, he sent us a gift package. - _
He also texted me a, uh, picture of his boat.
It said, "Feel free to use the yacht anytime, Jackie.
Okay, gotta go. Bye!"
Maybe no one will notice the plagiarism.
You don't think anyone will notice how the murderer talks?
Hm?
I wrapped my hands around his neck.
He pleaded, "Help me, God".
I sneered, "God is a construct
for those who must pretend
that the minutia of their daily patheticism
ends in a great reward... Heaven".
Marcus's frail body went limp.
Up, it's Schwonk.
Uh, okay.
- Hey. - So.
You tried to mount me.
But I caught ya.
Yeah.
I bought the rights to your book.
Yeah, you can't fool me 'cause I'm a god damn fox, Jackie.
What? Oh.
Hi. Table for two, please.
No, I didn't make a reservation.
What about that empty table right there?
Okay, fine.
We'll sit at the bar.
Oh, the bar is booked.
Wendy, let's make a little mess in this lobby.
Dump out all the dirt from the plant.
Oh, it's bolted down.
Well just scoop it out with your hands.
Oh, there is room at the bar?
Gee, how'd that happen?
Honey, just scoop the dirt back in with your hands.
Yeah, yeah. We're coming.
- We're coming! - Oh, my God.
You know what, Jack?
You could've been Schwonk, and you blew it!
- Wait... - Okay?
Talk soon. Bye-bye.
Well, so much for my book.
Or hanging out on a yacht.
You stood by me, Captain.
You said my ideas were good.
You're my number one hero.
I know that's not a yacht,
but I hope it counts for something.
See, Sarika?
This is why Heather's my favorite.
Unless you have another aunt in the publishing business?
- No. - Just the one?
Yeah.
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