- ♪ Look up there ♪ - ♪ What do you see? ♪
♪ Nature and stuff ♪
- ♪ Like a rock ♪ - ♪ And a tree ♪
♪ Oh, the Great North ♪
♪ Way up here, you can breathe the air ♪
♪ Catch some fish ♪
♪ Or gaze at a bear ♪
♪ Wow ♪
♪ Oh, the Great North ♪
♪ Here we live, oh, oh ♪
♪ Here we'll stay, oh, whoo ♪
♪ From longest night to longest day ♪
♪ In the Great North. ♪
Good morning, family.
Or should I say, great morning,
because...
$56 worth of art supplies was recently donated to school,
and I'm gonna ask Principal Gibbons to let me put together
a group to paint a new mural over the old one
- in the east hallway. - Oh, you mean the old mural
of the whales with eyes that seem to follow you
- wherever you go? - That's the one:
Whales Watching.
Ugh, it always gave me the creeps.
Kept me out of trouble, though... Kind of hard
to break the rules with those guys looking at you.
It's practically screaming at me to paint over it.
And, of course, I'll have my volunteers.
But since it's my idea, it'll be my vision.
Like how Jackson Pollock would sometimes have a friend
throw some paint at a canvas while he took a nap,
but it was still his painting.
What are you gonna do for the mural?
One idea is an abstract cubist rendering
of the various emotions you feel
when you stay home from school sick, and calling it:
Cube for the Common Cold.
Or Fingers Around the World,
a mural of all the different fingers and finger styles
- across the world. - Do both.
Like when I can't decide between a bath or a shower,
I call it a "shath."
This will be the world's first chance
to meet Judy Tobin, the artist.
And it'll surely be the first stop
on the eventual Historic Judy Tobin Art Tour.
I'd buy a ticket right now if I could.
As well as some "merc" from the mercantile stand.
Whew! I am stewing in creative juices,
-and I need to go put on deodorant. -Dad,
did you read the Lone Moose Mischief Report today?
- The what? - Lone Moose Mischief.
It's the section of the newspaper that reports
all the crimes that have happened in town the past week.
- It names names and everything. - That could cause a lot of trouble.
It doesn't. No one reads it but these two knuckleheads.
The people of Lone Moose respect each other's privacy.
If someone wants to commit a crime, that's their business.
It's interesting you would say that, Father,
considering what I just read.
Ahem. "This weekend, someone knocked down
"Vera Warren's British chimney sweep garden gnome.
A single boot was left on her lawn."
Oh, that's one of the most famous garden gnomes in town.
When you press a button on it, it says, "'Ello, gardener."
"Vera believes the boot belongs to...
- Beef Tobin." -Whoa! -
Dad, did you knock over Vera's British chimney sweep
"'Ello, gardener" garden gnome and leave your boot
- as a calling card? - Of course I didn't.
-Both of my boots are on my feet. -Dad,
if you didn't do it, you're being falsely accused.
This is the family name we're talking about...
Our second most valuable possession after the generator.
There's only one thing to do:
run our own independent investigation
and clear your name.
I watch CSI, NCIS, SVU and M-O-N-K.
So I'm pretty much trained to lead you
in a criminal detective case, if you'll have me.
With those credentials?
Huh, we'd be fools to say no.
- This is highly unnecessary. - Objection!
Sorry, I also watch L.A. Law, Chicago Law,
"The court, and the cake, will rise."
Principal Gibbons,
I have a small speech prepared,
requesting permission to spearhead
an after-school program to paint a new mural
over Whales Watching. Here goes.
"Principal Gibbons, thank you..."
- Permission granted. - Hey, hear me out! Wait, really?
I've been meaning to pay someone to do it,
but this is much better... You'll just need an adult
to supervise you after school hours.
- Ooh, I know the perfect person. - Oh, no, Judy,
I am flattered, but I simply do not have the time.
I work 8:00 to 4:00, then 4:00 to 6:00
I talk to my aunt in Oklahoma.
It's the only window that works with both of our time zones.
Oh, no. Darn.
I guess I'll have to ask someone else.
Are you kidding?
Count this Alys-on Alys-in.
Really? Thank you!
Well, I'm something of a mural queen myself.
Lance, an old friend of mine, once painted me
on the side of a van, wearing a metal bikini, riding a dragon.
The van caught on fire while being chased by the Feds.
Lance got 15 years, no parole.
But don't judge him from that. He's a good guy.
What were we talking about, Judy?
Good afternoon, ma'am. Detective Honeybee Shaw.
These are my associates, Moon and Wolf.
I know who they are. Their mother Kathleen
used to fart on my gardenias.
I'd like you to walk us through what happened the day
of the knocked-over British chimney sweep garden gnome
- that says, "'Ello, gardener." - It was last Salad Friday.
Salad Friday?
Junkyard Kyle comes over every Friday, and we have salad.
When she arrived, she asked why there was some boot on my lawn,
and that's when I discovered that someone had kicked over
my British chimney sweep garden gnome.
We read that you think the boot belonged to our dad.
- Why is that? - It was a Husky Buck brand boot,
and Beef wears Husky Bucks.
Plus, he's a known trespasser on my property.
Look at those disgusting sled tracks!
I'll never forget this, Beef Tobin!
And I never forgot it. Police took the boot
for evidence, but I'll show you where it was.
Look. There's still a footprint in the snow.
But it looks too big to be Dad's.
Here, compare it to my boot. Me and Dad wear the same size.
It's like we're twins, except he's my dad.
The print is too big.
This proves Beef is innocent. But in order to clear his name,
we need to find out who is guilty.
We've only got one eyewitness. I'll handle him.
I know how to push his buttons.
'Ello, gardener.
Oh, yeah, that is delightful!
- Who's our next source? - Well, there's only one person
in town who really loves feet.
He's a perv... We shouldn't talk to him.
But there's another person in town who loves shoes.
Let's go talk to him.
Mural time!
And wow-za, look at this turnout!
I only joined this club so that I could storm out.
Here I go!
Okay. Bye, John.
I want to thank you all
for volunteering to be here to help me birth my artistic child,
and I'm refusing the epidural, because I want to feel
when this thing crowns.
Hello, everyone. Your first lesson about art is:
Art isn't about what you see;
it's about what's going on underneath.
I think she's talking about that tiny hat.
Should we go start prepping the wall?
Not so fast, Judy. We don't even know
- what we're going to paint yet. - Well, I have a few ideas.
Judy, Judy, we'll get to it.
But first I'd like to run through a series of exercises
to see what we'd like to scream to the world.
To begin, each student will answer one important question.
What do you think when I say "art"?
- Peanut butter. - That's my breath. Try again.
Greg's got everyone's shoe size in town memorized.
- Foot-ographic memory. - Hey, six wide.
Ten. And...
I'm eight and a half narrow. Nice to meet you.
Greg, do you think you can identify a shoe
- by its footprint? - Husky Buck boot,
Fall/Winter collection, size 12.
Wow! Would you happen to know who bought this boot?
Your dad, just last week.
No! Doo doo McGoo!
You know everyone's shoe size in town.
Why would you sell him a pair of boots you knew wouldn't fit?
Were you setting him up? You like kicking over
old ladies' British chimney sweep garden gnomes, Greg?
- You sick bitch? - I thought they were a gift!
I know his feet, not his life.
Okay, you're in the clear.
We cracked this Greg,
but the truth is gonna be hard-boiled.
Please don't make egg puns out of my name. It's hurtful.
Yes! Scream at the world
for its injustices!
And... time.
Great screaming. Now, let's try yelling.
Can't we just get to the paint already?
Sorry I had to leave right in the middle of that... the button
on my pants popped off while we were rolling around,
and now they keep sliding down.
I'm not trying to be sexy or anything.
There are belted pads in the girls' bathroom
that might help hold 'em up. I can grab you one.
Belted pads? Didn't we burn those
with the bras in the '70s?
- What's a belted pad? - It's the only kind
of sanitary product in the bathroom dispensers.
Picture a twin mattress attached to a jockstrap.
You know those swing rides at the amusement park?
Now imagine getting off the ride and still wearing that swing
- for the rest of the day. - I asked Principal Gibbons
if we could get regular pads and tampons,
but he said there wasn't room in the budget.
This is an outrage. Everyone, up.
Join hands! I'm feeling a surge of inspiration!
Up-to-date menstrual products are a basic necessity,
and how better to demand them
than with a gigantic wall painting?
I can already see it.
We'll paint a giant, angry woman.
Uh, actually, I already planned that it would be a cube,
or fingers, so...
Oh, you're right, it's too safe.
It should be giant, angry vagina.
- Ooh! And what about a huge, red river? - Oh, uh...
Yes, Kima! With boats! Filled with women!
- Uh... - And animals? Like Noah's Ark?
- Uh... - No.
- Noah's Arkette! - I love this.
Stop! Stop it! Stop!
I mean, I love the idea, I do.
I just, we can just do it as our next mural
after we finish one of the ones I've been dreaming of.
Ham, what do you think?
I think when women's issues are on the table,
it's time for men to sit quietly down at that table and listen.
You taught me that, Judy.
Ugh! I totally agree that we need updated products, but...
this mural is a debut of who I...
I mean we... are as artists. You know?
Judy, I agree.
We got to go bigger.
Maybe all the animals get their own, little vaginas. Cute!
Hey, Judy. You got 20 till I got to get on the horn with my aunt.
They changed the price on her peppermint nighttime tea bags,
so it's gonna be a sesh.
I just wanted to run a quick mural idea past you.
I love it...
but I don't think you're going to approve.
- Try me. - Okay. It's a protest piece
against those belted pads in the women's bathroom.
It's going to be a huge vagina...
Let me stop you right there, Judy.
You know I hate saying this word, but:
No, we can't have a huge vagina on the wall.
Aw, shucks. Well, what about a mural
of all the different fingers and finger styles across the world?
- Fingers are fun. - Ha-ha-ha! Great!
So fingers are in and vaginas are out.
I don't like the way you said that, but yes.
Guys, bad news. Principal Gibbons accidentally found out
about the protest mural and said we absolutely can't do it.
So I guess let's just move on to other ideas, such as, uh,
- when you take a sick day... - Judy, stop!
I knew this would happen. But, you know,
real artists ask for forgiveness, not permission.
- So we should still do it. - That's right!
We can't let the Man tear us down!
Yes. Let the gates of chaos open
and blood rain down, or whatever.
Or maybe we can make an even bigger statement
by not making a statement at all?
- Ham, what do you think? - I think when women's issues are on the table...
Stop listening to women, Ham! What do we know?
- Nice of you to join us, Beef. - What's happening?
We're gonna give you one chance to tell us the truth.
Okay, fine. The pipes technically can handle
two-ply toilet paper, I just don't like it.
Feels like I'm wiping my butt with a blanket!
This is about the boot on Old Lady Vera's lawn.
We know it was you. You're the only person in town
who bought size 12 Husky Bucks.
That was an accident. I thought it said ten.
I want to believe you, Beef. But why not return the shoes?
Why keep them, other than to use them to commit a crime
and give yourself an alibi? You like knockin' over
old ladies' British chimney sweep garden gnomes, Beef?
- Huh? You sick bitch? - No, I don't.
But I don't make returns. Returning a purchase
is like bringing an omelet back to a hen.
She has no use for it, and you look like a fool.
The boots are in my closet. I'll show you.
Wait. One boot?
- Scoundrel! We caught you red-footed!
- They should both be in here. - Looks like they come
in your size after all, Beef: size guilty.
Yeah, you sick bitch!
Sorry, sorry, sorry. I thought I'd try it,
but I didn't like it. Love you, Dad.
Oof, Judy, what happened?
You look like it rained on your wedding day.
How many times have you used that line?
I've nev... I've never used that line before.
It's just, I was super pumped to do this mural
and make my first artistic mark on the world,
but now everyone wants to turn the mural
into this big protest piece.
- And what's wrong with that? - I know Alyson said
real artists hold up mirrors to society
so that they can see their own disgusting faces,
but just because I wanted to do the common cold or fingers,
does that mean I'm not a real artist?
Am I just some sort of, like, square who likes to paint?
Look, Judy, I've been through what you're going through
in a magical and terrible time known as the '90s.
I wasn't a pope-shreddingly edgy artist like Sinéad O'Connor,
but I wasn't a human cat café
- like Lisa Loeb, either. - So what were you?
Richer than both of them.
But also, I was just me.
Good art, bad art, real artist, commercial artist,
none of that really matters.
What matters is that you stay true to you.
So go back in there tomorrow and Jude up the joint.
- "Jude up the joint"? - Yeah.
Maybe you can't get your whole idea in there,
but you could throw in a cube or toss in some fingers.
Oh, I hear you. Thanks, Alanis.
Rock on with your socks on.
"Rock on with your socks on." Oof.
- Maybe you are kind of a square. - I heard that!
I, for one, believe you. You're the best guy I know.
And I know like, 18 guys.
Dad, it doesn't matter if you did or didn't do it.
If the people in this town think you're a criminal,
they'll start treating you like one.
That won't happen, son.
I've lived here my whole life. These are my friends.
He's right, Beef. I've seen it before, in Fresno.
Charlie was everybody's favorite lifeguard,
until he was involved in a neighborly dispute.
Then, he couldn't even show his face at the community pool.
- Really? What was the dispute? - Oh, he drowned a guy.
So, is this really
what we want to do, or is it too obvious?
Obvious? What do you mean?
Maybe instead of being so literal,
the mural could be more metaphorical?
Like, a clam or a bunch of women excelling in the world
of business, looking at their watches,
refilling the toner, heads held high.
- Their vaginas are implied. Hmm? - Hey, there, students.
Superintendent Sandy Flarts was so excited
about the groovy finger mural, she stopped by to check it out.
I love fingers, especially thumbs.
Does that say, "Huge vagina goes here"?
- Um... - Judy, we talked about this.
This mural is not the appropriate venue
to protest your lack of access to feminine hygiene products.
Lack of access? There are belted pads available.
Yeah, but they're dusty and outdated.
They are vintage and classic. This is totally unacceptable.
- And what authority do you have? - I'm the superintendent.
Well, I work at the mall.
I say we continue on against this oppression.
Or we could just go back to the fingers.
No. T-There is to be no mural painting at all.
Obviously, none of you can be trusted.
- Ah, bummer. - At least we know we tried.
Tried? I started this club.
I lobbied for the art supplies.
This mural was my idea, my dream.
And then you guys had to make it your idea.
And I tried to get on board, but now I don't even get
to paint anything, not even your big Arkette
with animals sailing in it or whatever they're doing in there,
and I'm the only one who even cares?
Oh, geez. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
That we accidentally took a huge opportunity away from Judy,
and now we really upset her?
Oh. I was thinking that I would look amazing in a Jeep.
But you make a good point.
Yeah. Yeah, that's a good point, too, Gill.
Oh. This was my thing. Stupid art.
This is your fault, belted pads.
"See-nih yuhlimaf stralf"?
"Flarts Family, Inc."?
"Flarts" as in Sandy Flarts?
♪ Bum, bum, bum. ♪
Time to air-dry these fingers and tickle the computer ivories.
♪ ♪
♪ Work it just a little bit...
"Alexandra"?
♪ Get back... ♪
Singles in my area? Interesting.
Oh, no, no. Not now. Focus up.
"Belted pads no longer holding up."
"Backstock to flow into schools."
- I know what I must do. - What?
Oh, nothing. It's just some p-pads.
Never mind.
Alaska aloha to you,
Junkyard Kyle.
I have those rusty razors that we were planning to...
Are you avoiding me, Kyle?
What? No, that's crazy.
- I'm just very busy right now. - Oh.
Okay, with what?
Well, I'm at the dentist.
No, you're not. You're right here.
- I just came to drop off... - Wish I could take 'em,
but, uh, we're closed, so get out of here, okay?
Oh, no, dang, you're closed?
Uh, yes, we are closed.
We aren't really closed, I'm just avoiding Beef.
Come over here, let me show you my closed sign.
Guys, we've almost solved the case.
And the only thing we don't know is who did it or why.
Guys, turns out I need you to clear my name after all.
You were right. People are treating me differently.
Junkyard Kyle wouldn't even let me in her junkyard today.
Kyle, huh? The same Kyle
who was actually at Vera's when the boot was discovered?
And who, in fact, discovered it? And now she's avoiding you?
What exactly is the nature of your relationship?
Well, I give Kyle my used razors.
She came over to pick them up on Friday,
but she left while I was getting them from the bathroom.
So let me get this straight. She left abruptly,
without a word, from this house, this past Friday?
- You know what I think? - I wish, babe,
but the mystery corners of your beautiful mind
will keep me guessing till the day I die.
We got to go talk to Junkyard Kyle, then get down
to the Lone Moose Mischief
to get ourselves some Lone Moose justice.
Thank you all for coming.
I know I kind of yelled at you earlier about taking my mural
away from me, but everything is different now.
I found out Sandy Flarts isn't just the superintendent.
- She's also the heiress to Flarts Family, Inc.
Oh, no. She's spreading herself too thin.
Flarts Family, Inc. Is the company that makes
those belted pads in the girls' bathroom.
They took a huge hit in the '70s when self-adhesive pads
were invented, and instead of modernizing,
which would have cost them money, they found places
who would still buy their product,
like DMVs and zoos and public schools.
That's why she didn't like our mural.
It messes with her fortune.
- That's corrupt. - It's literally the definition of corrupt.
As I discovered earlier when I looked it up.
This is bigger than my idea or your idea.
Art itself is being threatened.
We must protect it from being silenced by corporate greed.
So the mural is back on?
Sort of. Sandy explicitly said that we weren't allowed
to paint the mural, but she never said anything
about being the mural.
A retraction, huh?
Retractions are for people who get things wrong.
I never get things wrong.
You did this time. Last week, you reported that Beef left
his boot on Vera's property, but that's not what happened.
You see, Kyle and Vera have a longstanding tradition
- they call... - Salad Fridays.
It's my business to know everyone's business.
Right, and they always have Salad Friday's at Vera's.
And that was always okay with Kyle, until it wasn't.
Last week, she made the bold move of suggesting
to Vera that they have salad at the junkyard,
but Vera turned her down.
Said she wouldn't be able to gum her romaine in peace
surrounded by all my junk.
That hurt my feelings.
She stopped over at Beef's on the way to Vera's
to get his used razors.
But when he went to retrieve them, she saw a brand-new pair
of boots just sitting there on the counter.
- And she got an idea. - He said they were too big.
He was just gonna shove them in the closet.
Her plan? She was gonna toss the boot on Vera's yard
and then be like, "Ugh, Vera, who owns a junkyard now?
You do, 'cause there's actual junk in your yard."
Next thing she knew, like a woman possessed,
she was walking up to Vera's, boot in hand.
But her plan had two major flaws: one, she has bad aim.
'Ello, gardener.
Oh, big baby Jesse.
And two, she didn't know that Vera
already had beef with Beef.
It was a sledding incident, over 30 years ago.
The way that woman holds a grudge is a thing of beauty.
That's why I turned you away at the junkyard.
I just couldn't face what I'd done.
Well, this is a first.
It looks like a retraction is in order.
"We previously reported the boot
"may have belonged to Beef Tobin.
In fact, the boot definitely belonged to Beef Tobin."
Yep, well, that's technically true.
But what about the part where I didn't commit the crime?
I guess I can throw that in.
- Got 'em! - Hootie & the Yay-fish!
- All right. - This case really did me in.
I got to go away for a while.
If you need me, put a boot on a lawn.
- What's that? - Is it someone's birthday?
Oh, my gosh, wherever does
this metaphorical trail of menses lead?
- Oh, boy. - Behold.
The vagina weeps. Why the long face?
Because I am forced to sit upon a sanitary napkin
attached to a belt, and all I crave
is a sleek, modern tampon.
Or a DivaCup.
Woe, woe. Woe betide the vagina.
Who curses you so?
I am so mad at myself for quitting this club.
'Twas Sandy Flarts, the school superintendent.
She makes her blood money from my actual blood.
She silenced our mural.
But she can't silence our collective vagina.
No Flarts in our arts, no Flarts in our arts.
And also, by the way, I'm the cube for the common cold.
Was that... Did people feel that was coming across?
I need to see you in my office, now.
I don't have enough chairs for all of you,
so bring the Arkette.
You're gonna expel us all for speaking out,
because you're under the dirty thumb of Sandy Flarts.
No! I love it when kids use art to rebel against authority.
- Hello. Footloose. - Hello.
But it's almost a shame Sandy Flarts
wasn't here to see this herself.
Oh, we're doing an encore performance
for the school board.
This was basically a dress rehearsal.
Please don't do that, Judy.
We really need those belted pads to stay.
What? You are under Sandy's dirty thumb.
No, it's just actually a pretty good deal.
The school gets to keep a quarter of the pad profits.
It's what paid for your mural paint.
We also use it for gym equipment,
thumbtacks, dodgeballs,
the snow cone machine for Boy's Day...
Did you just say "Boy's Day"?
And Post-its.
Look, I will agree to use some of that money
to keep a box of tampons in the girls' restroom.
I mean, how much can they really cost?
A hundred bucks? A hundred fifty?
Five dollars and 99 cents.
Really? We could've had them years ago.
Now walk me through why Gill and Ham were businesswomen.
I love it, I just want to understand it.
Hey, Judy! Bummed I missed the performance.
Can you believe adults aren't allowed to just
walk into schools whenever they want?
- How'd it all shake out? - Pretty well actually.
- Principal Gibbons loved it. - I'm proud of you, Judy.
- You are quite the artist. - Really?
You think I'm an artist?
Even though I don't like to make controversial art unless
I'm pushed to the absolute brink by corporate greed
and a deep insecurity about my identity?
You like to make art, don't you?
That's all it takes to be an artist.
But I do feel kind of responsible
that you didn't get to paint the mural of your dreams.
Oh, it's okay.
Well, I noticed a nice, big chunk
of wall behind the mall
that could really use a facelift.
Really? Which wall?
The one next to the dumpster.
Are you serious?
That's way better exposure than the east hallway.
Everyone uses the dumpster.
♪ Checking our watches late to a meeting ♪
♪ Hike our skirts up when we're peeing ♪
♪ Business, calling China ♪
♪ Women, implied vagina ♪
♪ Got to have my coffee and my tweed ♪
♪ Wear my tiny glasses while I read ♪
♪ Business, crisp collared shirts ♪
- ♪ I'm a businesswoman ♪ - ♪ Women! Who stole my yogurt? ♪
♪ Heads held high up to the sky ♪
- ♪ I hold my head up high ♪ - ♪ Heads held high up to the sky ♪
- ♪ Businesswomen ♪ - ♪ I'm a business woman. ♪
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