The year was 1904.
It was Alaska's longest and coldest winter
in recorded history.
The winter known as Mother Death.
The citizens of Lone Moose were on the verge of running out
of food, firewood and even hope.
But then, one very early morning,
Mayor Parsnips went out on yet another search for sustenance
and found...
I have found a huge pile
of moose droppings.
Brown gold. Brown gold!
First he searched for the moose itself
to kill and eat it right away, yum, yum, yum.
But he never found the bounteous beast.
Instead, day after day, he did find
a prodigious pile of poops.
A blessing from the behind.
He collected them and distributed
the magical manure house to house.
Thus the citizens of Lone Moose
used the beige bounty to keep their fires burning,
to plant potatoes indoors,
to patch the cracks in their windows and, yes,
one guy did eat them, and soon died.
But if it weren't for the rear gifts given
from moose to mayor, the whole town might have perished
before the winter finally let up in mid-July.
And so, each spring, the citizens of Lone Moose
gather to celebrate both mooses and mayors
at the Rear Gifts Festival,
an event that culminates in the legendary Turd Drop,
where everyone in town shellacs a moose poop to drop.
And whoever gets their fortunate fece closest
to the target on the Mayor Parsnips monument
wins a big prize.
Thanks for watching,
and see you at the festival.
First off, a big thank you
to the Lone Moose Civic Light Opera actors
for helping me with that remarkable short film.
Please go see their current production
of Lars von Trier's Melancholia.
It'll really get you thinking.
Now, a lot of you are probably wondering,
"Mayor Peppers, why did you spend $160
of the city's operating budget to make this tape?"
Yeah. Should've spent it on dip.
- Spend it on dip. - Spend it on dip.
Spend it on dip.
I did get dip. I always get dip.
It's on the back table. Geez.
I made the video because I wanted to remind everyone--
but specifically the Evanoffs,
the Tobins and the Tuntleys--
of what the festival is all about.
It's about winning the Turd Drop by any means necessary.
Including cheating, injury and death.
- Hell yeah. - No. It's about town unity.
- Eh! Wrong. - Please, guys.
You know the festival is the one day a year
the Lone Moose mayor gets to take a vacation day,
in honor of Mayor Parsnips.
But I never get to enjoy it because of your stupid rivalry
and bonkers behavior.
So I'm begging you,
let me have my one day of peace this year.
Can't you guys just do this for the mayor?
- This is nuts. - Thank you, Honeybee.
I just want to pop a weed gummy, maybe grab a sandwich
from Lone Moose's latest food truck sensation,
Barbara Baconbottom's Bottomless Bacon Truck.
Ooh, I'll have one ready for you, Mayor dear.
Thank you, Barbara Baconbottoms.
And once I'm a little high,
I just want to go in the bounce house and enjoy myself.
Can you guys please focus your rivalry
back where we usually focus it?
on our hatred of our rival town Ted's Folly
and my archnemesis Mayor Ted?
Mayor Peppers is right.
He does a lot for the town. It's the least we could do.
- Fine. - I guess I agree, but I hate it.
Great. It's settled. Thank you, Tobins,
Evanoffs and Tuntleys.
This year, we will just have a nice, normal Turd Festival.
May our love for each other shine
like a pile of turds in the morning light.
Okay, that's a blondie break.
Apologies for the quality of the blondies, guys.
My dad got his hands caught in a wasp's nest,
so I had to make them.
Bees do not compute.
Ham, Crispin, you guys aren't laughing.
Don't tell me you didn't see the movie.
Oh, no, we saw it. We definitely saw it.
- Which one again? - Uh, Dandroid,
where Adam Sandler plays a robot named Dan,
who's the butler for the president.
He's a robot, but he's allergic to bees.
It's incredible.
A bunch of us saw it this weekend.
- We loved it. - Oh, yeah. Now I remember.
We also saw it and loved it.
- Uh, we did? - Yeah, remember?
W-We saw it and you loved it.
I-I remember because you said "I love this movie!"
You yelled it. Remember?
I'm surprised you don't remember yelling that.
So, um,
are we gonna talk about how you pretended
we saw an Adam Sandler movie about a robot or...?
Oh. Yeah. Sorry.
I just go along with whatever teenage boys are talking about
since I don't have a lot of, you know, guy friends.
What do you mean you don't have guy friends?
You're literally in a band with dudes.
But I'm not really, like, friends with them.
I mean, I have other friends.
There's Goldie, my Aunt Denice,
Barbara Baconbottoms
from the Bottomless Bacon Truck.
Uh, all perfect human beings.
Yes, but all older ladies.
Older ladies have a lot to offer--
menopause jokes, thoughts on wine.
Yeah, and their divorce stories are incredible.
But I do feel like a full freak.
Well, if you're that worried about it, Ham,
why don't you try to... make a new friend our age?
Oh! Maybe you can meet a new bud at the Rear Gifts Fest.
Oh, yeah! Great idea.
I'll meet a new teen guy friend, and, next thing you know,
we'll be pruning his prize rose bushes together.
Ham, honey, no.
Hey, Kima,
what did you get for number four?
Uh, I put "C," but, to be honest,
I chose at random and I'm not looking back.
-"C" it is. - Hmm.
Why aren't you guys being mean to each other?
Isn't this your families' weird turd rivalry time?
It is. But Mayor Peppers begged our families and the Tuntleys
to call a truce for the Rear Gifts Festival,
so the truce is loose.
And speaking of rear gifts,
excuse me while I drop some off in the gift collector.
Loud and proud. I love it.
Do your thing, chicken wing.
You can't do this!
You're not wearing that magnetic paint to cheat at the Turd Drop!
It says on the package,
"Can be worn up to 30 minutes
"before side effects begin,
"including coma, liver failure,
mild skin irritations and death."
It says that on the package?!
Look, my plan is solid--
I'm gonna put a magnet in our turd, wear this paint,
stand near the center of the target and make sure
we win first place.
Then I'll run right to the river to wash it off.
You're going to wash off deadly paint in the river?!
You're an environmental scientist, Walt!
Come on, Esther.
You know my whole life is rules and facts and figures
and recycling and composting.
But at Rear Gifts,
I get to let my turd flag fly.
Plus, you think the Tuntleys and Tobins
are really gonna not cheat?
Of course not. But we promised.
I had my fingers crossed.
His fingers were crossed?
I guess the poops in the early morning light
aren't gonna unite us all.
I got to go tell my family!
Judy! Where are you going?!
Oh. Uh, I have diarrhea! And the flu!
And, uh, a-a family emergency! So it's a classic triple threat!
Bye, guys! Bye, bye, bye, bye, bye!
So, yup, the Evanoffs are cheating
at the Turd Drop after all.
What naive fools we've been.
And now we're sitting here with no dangerous cheating plan
and zero chance of winning that mani-pedi gift certificate.
Hold up. The prize for winning
is just a mani-pedi gift certificate?
Yes, and we desire it with all our hearts.
But the festival is tomorrow and we don't have anything planned.
Well, what if one of us already had a plan in motion
that will win us the competition?
Yes! - I'm listening.
Now, what do we all know is the biggest challenge
of finding the right backdoor brownie to drop?
The consistency of a moose fece can make it hard to shellac.
- Exactly. - I wonder if I could drive all the way back to Fresno tonight.
So, after the town hall Turd Fest meeting,
I saw a moose in the woods and I thought, "Huh, the moose
"is out here just eating whatever he can get his lips on.
"But me? Hell, I'm a human.
"I can eat moose food in just the right combination
"on purpose,
"so as to create a perfectly formed Downtown Smoothie Brown
- that's easy to shellac." - My God.
Yep. I had help.
I went to see the vet, Dr. French.
I would not recommend eating the diet of a wild animal, Wolf.
But Lord knows no one can stop you weirdos
from injuring yourselves trying to win the Turd Drop.
So, what the hell, I'll play.
What's your favorite aquatic vegetation?
Oh, pondweed, for sure. It's not even close.
So ever since then,
I've been munching moose grass pretty hard.
- Honey, no. - What?
That sounds... Never mind. Go on.
I'm a little plugged up right now,
but I know my perfect posterior pellet
is on its beautiful journey towards birth.
Babe, please, remember the filter.
Would Barack tell Michelle that?
If the Obamas were lucky enough
to be a part of the fest, he would.
Now, the moose poop from my behind is, simply put,
going to be superior.
It'll be more fibrous, denser,
meaning it won't be blown side to side by the wind.
Plus, with the new instant shellac I ordered,
the turnaround time on a late-breaking butt bullet
is almost nonexistent.
Uh, which way is the ocean?
I'm gonna walk into it.
Guys, I just got to do this.
For the family!
E-Everyone else has a great skill.
Ham makes cakes, Judy's an artist,
Moon can track any animal. But me?
Well, my one real skill is going absolutely nuts to the butts
for the Turd Drop every year and bringing home the prize.
Hmm. Wolf, this is a terrible, disgusting idea.
But if everyone else is cheating,
well, we got to go for it.
And Mayor Peppers, he won't even have to know.
Yes! This year, my caboose will be our moose!
Okay, the fest is tomorrow,
so please excuse me to go eat some more pondweed.
It's turd o'clock, baby!
Any luck in there, son?
Nothing yet.
I was really hungry yesterday,
so I think I might've eaten too many sticks.
I can tell they're creating
a sort of a beaver dam situation in there.
I'm gonna think about that sentence
for the rest of my life.
Well, why don't we all go over
and get some lettuce bowls from Leticia's Lettuces
to help get things moving.
Hello there, good friends we have made a truce with.
How pleasant to see you!
And you as well!
What's going on here?
Absolutely nothing.
Just greeting friends...
at a joyous festival.
Where there will be no cheating at all.
- Oh, I agree. - Yup! Yup.
So, what's in the bags, Tuntleys?
There's nothing controversial in our satchels,
and I for one resent the implication.
How'd you get hurt there, Mr. Tuntley?
He's not hurt. He's just tired.
Especially in the... arm.
It has nothing to do with the drop,
if that's what you're implying.
Stop!
This better not be what it looks like.
'Cause what it looks like is the three families
that always cheat at the drop
having some kind of fight that will result in violence
and ruin my day off.
Oh, Mayor Peppers.
May-or Pep-pers.
No, no, no, no. Not at all.
We were just, um...
hugging. With our words.
Good! Because the message this year is unity and togetherness.
Now, I'm gonna take my ass over and jump in the jump house.
Keep it together.
All right. Time to grab a plate
and hit this best bro buffet.
Bon voyage, fair Ham.
Bring me good news from the friend front.
Aye, aye, Captain Boyfriend.
- Oh, and Ham? - Yes?
No meeting any new older lady friends,
no matter how shimmery their natural gray streaks look
in a low braid.
Crispin, I promise.
Ham!
Yep! Sorry! Boy, that braid shimmered.
I'll start assembling the turbine.
Henry, you dig up the generator from where we pre-buried it.
Copy that, Mom.
Appreciate the hustle.
Turd Day is my time to shine,
so put your back into it.
Okay. Lookin' for boys,
possible friends.
Ooh! Tie-dye a turd?
That sounds fun.
No, Ham. Focus.
Hi.
Good, good. Yeah, just get warmed up.
- Hello! - Aah! Geez.
Sorry. Sorry.
Okay, too loud. No problem. Just dialing it in.
Ooh! Barbara's bacon truck.
Maybe I'll just take a little breather with her.
Hello, Ham!
Hello, Barbara!
Top of the bacon to ya, my fine fire-headed friend.
What can I do ya for?
Well, I'm actually over here looking for teen boys.
Not in a sexy way-- in a make-a-friend way.
Do you think teen boys would like this icebreaker--
what's your preferred Internet service provider?
Oh-ho-ho, Ham.
Go get yourself a BFT, dear--
a bacon, friend and tomato.
Well, it's pretty clear all three of the Big Rear families
have some kind of cheating planned.
If that was a gigantic turd in the Tuntleys' backpack,
by God, I respect them.
All right. I think all this kale has finally loosened my tail.
You know what? I think I'm gonna head out to the woods
like a real moose to do a glorious number two
under the clear blue sky.
Beautiful, son.
Come on, butt. What would a moose poop?
Damn, this wig is hot. I'm sweating right through my boobs!
Barbara Baconbottoms is actually Mayor Ted Folly,
our mayor's nemesis?
Hello? Is someone there?
I'm hearing things.
All right, time for a little test run
of my remote-controlled turd drone.
Diarrhea Day-Lewis.
Mayor Ted's trying to pull some crap with the poop.
All right, I know we are enemies today,
so thank you for agreeing to meet with us.
Are you just gonna accuse us of cheating again?
Oh, no. I know you were all still planning to cheat,
and, frankly, so were we.
This is what we do.
This is the way.
But I didn't call this meeting to talk about that.
It's something much worse--
a non-Lone Moose resident is trying to enter the Turd Drop.
Who is it?
Barbara Baconbottoms.
But Barbara moved here fair and square two months ago.
I agree, Mrs. Tuntley,
that someone calling themselves Barbara Baconbottoms
did, in fact, move here.
But Babs Bacons is not actually a lovely British lady.
She's the mayor of our rival town, Ted's Folly.
And Ted knows,
he knows, that Mayor Peppers' day--
nay, his decade-- would be ruined
if his archnemesis Mayor Ted won the big town prize.
And it gets worse-- Barbara/Ted has a drone
that looks exactly like a poop.
Damn it, Dad! Why didn't you think of that?
- Yeah, Uncle Walt. - I'm sincerely sorry, guys.
But what do we do now?
Uh, go right to Mayor Peppers and tell him
and then do the Turd Drop without cheating
like you promised.
Well, that's dumb. Any other ideas?
Yes. Since we were all gonna cheat at the Turd Drop anyway,
how 'bout we keep our cool cheating plans
but do them together, for Peppers?
- For Peppers. For Peppers. - Yeah.
Okay. I guess you guys are doing this instead?
- Hands in. - Fire up the griddle of righteousness.
It's time to fry some bacon.
Hi. Hello.
Uh, hi?
So, what's, uh,
your preferred Internet service provider?
I... don't have one.
Yeah. Me neither.
You see anything you like?
Uh, yeah.
You.
...and that's what a mammogram feels like.
Fascinating.
Hello, Ham.
You simply must introduce me to your new friend.
Oh! Yeah, well, this is Regina,
and she's a... 16-year-old boy.
- Oh, really? - Uh-huh.
And where do you go to school, Regina?
Don't talk to him. He's my friend.
Um, what's happening here exactly?
Is this sexting?
Regina, this is my boyfriend Crispin.
I was supposed to be trying to befriend guys my own age,
but I was mesmerized by you,
and now, well, here we are.
Ham, Ham, Ham, Ham,
get me one of those organic sodas
and let's figure this out together.
Oh! You want a Dandelion Diva
or a Joint-Health Jackfruit?
Oh, Joint-Health, please.
And then, at the last second, we were gonna use
this generator you see here to turn on
this powerful wind turbine,
blow all the turds to hell and gone.
And while everyone was distracted,
Jim was gonna find our turd
and put it right in the middle of the target.
How was Jim gonna find your poop?
Oh, he's got a photographic memory for the shapes of turds.
I do. It's a blessing and a curse.
A masterful plan, Dorothy.
Thank you. There's a reason I was valedictorian
of my veterinary college.
But there is one tiny problem--
the turbine on/off switch is... on the fritz.
When we were practicing, my wife, uh...
couldn't turn it off, so it blew me into a tree
and I broke my collarbone.
Congratulations.
Thank you.
It also blew all of my clothes completely off.
You don't know pride until you've seen your naked father
crumpled in the snow in service of a dangerous Turd Drop stunt.
All right, based on the intelligence from Wolf,
we can assume that Ted plans to beat the system
by activating his drone just as the turds drop.
Gravity causes all objects to fall at the same rate.
But Ted's turd won't be falling--
it'll be flying.
To defeat Ted's mechanized weaponry,
we'll need the wind machine. The kids and I
will help camouflage it and stand by to help.
Meanwhile, Walt will wait till the last minute
to get painted so he does not literally die.
Once Walt looks like the Tin Man,
he'll run to the target, attracting the drone
to his magnetized body.
This will infuriate Mayor Ted
and lead him to physically attack Walt.
Then the Tuntleys will switch on the wind turbine
and it will blow off Barbara's wig, revealing her to be
none other than Ted Folly.
His plan will be foiled,
and Peppers will salute us all
as heroes.
Why am I crying?
I thought this whole thing was so stupid, but...
I think I get it now and I want to enter next year
and I want to win and I want to cheat.
And, again, why am I crying?
'Cause you're a Lone Mooser now.
The thought of destroying Ted Folly
touches your heart.
But, wait, who will win the drop?
That's the best part-- we all will.
We're gonna give Peppers his unity after all.
Seriously, I can't stop! I'm so moved!
But since the turds are already in the chopper,
we will need a new one for all of us to sign.
Son, your butt has been called into battle.
- It's time to drop the moose deuce. - Yes!
The Turd Fest is actually going smoothly
for the first time in years.
This is your moment, Peppers.
This is your day.
Ah. Thanks for coming along
to support me, you guys.
I really do want to find a new teen friend.
Well, what about him?
He's-- huh, yeah--
- eating his own hair. - Maybe him?
Yeah, he's...
really into his bike.
Him? Yeah. I think he has a certain
- friend something. - Why don't you go say hi?
Uh, yeah.
You know you aren't walking, right?
Ham, I have a pillow that says "Caesar Salad the Day."
I don't know what it means. I was drunk when I bought it.
But I think the point is, life is short.
Go out there and Caesar salad yourself a new friend.
Okay. Um, will you guys walk over with me?
Sure, babe.
- Whatcha playin'? - Oh. Just a song I wrote about drain pipes.
Oh. Well, uh, I'm Ham
and this is my boyfriend Crispin and my friend Regina.
She is an older lady and,
you know what, maybe that does make me a freak,
but do you want to hang out with all of us?
Uh, yeah, you guys seem great.
Especially you. I enjoy your comforting
but glamorous Julianne Moore energy.
Thank you. Now, what do you guys say--
should we all head back to my booth
and I can tell you about my friend Nancy's divorce?
'Cause it's a wild one.
Yes, please. Did it involve a juicy affair?
- You know it did. - Ooh.
And I'd love it if there was a dispute over a beach house.
Ham, there was!
All right. It's turd time.
I might never meet my grandchildren,
- but it'll be worth it. - Mom,
you already have grandchildren. I'm an uncle.
Let your mother have her moment, son.
And if we lose Dad
as he uses his body to attract a turd drone today,
let us trust that this is part of life's great mystery.
Friends and neighbors, thank you
for a wonderful, peaceful day
where I didn't have to call in a SWAT team,
reset a broken femur
or figure out how to anticipate a lawsuit.
And now the dropping of the gifts!
It's almost time, Dad!
- Get ready! - Go, Walter! Go, go, go!
Here come the turds!
Oh! Oh! Don't you dare!
Fire up the generator!
- Oh, what's happening?! - My wig!
It's Mayor Ted!
No, no, no! Turn off the wind, Tuntley!
Uh-oh! The button's not working
again, guys!
Hit it again!
Stay with me, brave underwear!
Well, there we go. Dad!
The poisonous paint! Get up! Get up!
Run to the river!
Don't worry, everyone!
I pooped the winning poop.
Mayor Ted didn't win here today.
Lone Moose did.
Uh, hello, Mayor Peppers.
Great Turd Drop, huh?
Uh, one for the books...
At the town meeting, I asked everyone
to keep things under control at the festival.
And that didn't exactly happen.
But, today, the three families that normally cheat
to beat each other cheated to help me.
In their own special way, they're my moose poops.
Hell yeah, we are!
I'm crying again.
And perhaps it was foolish of me
to ask you to not injure yourselves
being stupidly competitive.
After all, we're Alaskans.
We get burnt.
We fall in holes.
We die too young.
And we can't change.
And we won't change.
We outright refuse.
Because life's too short not to die once in a while.
Now, who will take this mani-pedi gift certificate?
We're gonna share it.
We're each gonna get one nail done.
That's beautiful!
Now, if you'll excuse me,
I'm going back in the bounce house.
Captioning sponsored by BENTO BOX ENTERTAINMENT
and TOYOTA.