‐ You know, I rarely wait on line
for things that don't have some kind of frosting.
‐ I know, but this is supposed to be amazing.
It's David Blaine's latest magic trick where
he's just gonna kill himself. ‐ How is that magic?
I thought he wasn't supposed to be
a celebrity anymore. ‐ Whoa. It says on "Deadline"
that Maggie Gyllenhaal just signed on
for the next sequel to "Hostel"‐‐
"Clitorectomy: Third Time's the Harm."
‐ That's a bummer. She's supposed to be a feminist.
I expected more from her. ‐ It's always sad
when someone sells out their own people.
‐ Yeah. Like when Elton John did that thing with Eminem.
And then they sang together.
‐ Ugh! This line is not moving!
‐ I know, and I have to eat before my audition.
‐ What's it for again? ‐ I don't know. It's top secret.
The only thing I know is it's for Amazon,
so I'm gonna bring a blender I have to return.
‐ Well, if you want, we can bail.
We can go to that new Cajun Meatball Poke pop‐up.
‐ Ooh! Elton John's nickname for Eminem.
[crowd shouting] ‐ Scab, scab!
Oh, another line? ‐ No, that's a picket line.
See, they have a Strike Rat. ‐ "Waiters deserve wages"?
I didn't know waiters had a union.
I thought it was just SAG. ‐ Well, I'm not joining.
I can't afford to pay any more stupid dues.
And those SAG screeners are pathetic.
Big deal‐‐I get a free copy of "Hacksaw Ridge,"
but I have to see a dentist in Paramus.
‐ I guess we should find a restaurant that's open.
Although...technically, this restaurant is open.
And they could seat us right away.
‐ Yeah, but if we go in there, they're gonna boo us.
‐ I've been booed four times today already.
CROWD: Scab! Scab!
Scab, scab, scab!
‐ Scabs are a sign of healing, dear.
‐ Scab, scab, scab, scab!
[driving punk rock music]
♪ ♪
‐ I just need you to sign the nondisclosure forms,
then I'll give you the sides and we can get started.
‐ Why is Amazon being so secretive?
Every improviser I know has gone out for "Mozart in the Jungle."
‐ Oh, I am sure.
That show is real comedy.
Just so you know,
this project comes from a film director
who is arguably offensive to women.
‐ Eli Roth? ‐ Close. Jewish also.
But his violence against women is more...dialogue‐based
and exists more in his characters'
antiquated attitudes towards them.
‐ Woody Allen is doing another Amazon series?
‐ Yes! It's called "Manhattan Mini Storage,"
and this time we are sure the Woodster's gonna
"get TV."
‐ I can't, in good conscience,
audition for Woody Allen,
as a woman, you know? ‐ Okay, yeah, sure, sure.
‐ But can I just take a peek at the sides
to see how bad they are? ‐ Can only show them to you
if you're auditioning.
‐ Fine. I'll audition. Why not?
I'm not gonna get this part. I never get any part.
‐ Here you go. Let me know if you have
any trouble reading his handwriting.
‐ He doesn't even use a typewriter?
‐ He says gadgets and doodads are passing fads
and hurt his flow.
‐ [laughs] Okay. Got it. Of course.
All right. "Esther, white female,
over 16, unfuckable."
Any other specifics, or...
‐ She's a cigarette girl. Uh, here, you can use this prop.
‐ So it's another period piece? ‐ No.
Woody just thinks cigarette girls still exist
and black people don't.
Whenever you're ready.
‐ [loudly] "You'll have to speak up
"over this loud rock and roll music‐‐
"if you can call it music.
Oh, here, Mr. Yellnikoff, let me light that for you."
Oh, shit! Oh, crap!
[patting shirt]
[exhales]
[inhales] I'm okay.
‐ I don't care. Please go.
But not before you check off a reason
why you're returning this blender.
♪ ♪
‐ It's time to update the cafe's website.
Our site is so out of date, we still have pics
of when we served cereal at breakfast.
‐ And Billy was still scruff‐free thin.
‐ Oh, Matthew, if only you'd been Jeffrey Dahmer's type.
‐ Priority for the site will be to get new pictures of our food.
‐ Well, I'm happy to offer my services.
‐ Your services as a parody of a pass‐around party bottom
will not be helpful.
‐ Oh, yaaaas!
I always love the view from deep inside Miss Lola's shade.
‐ It's like punching pudding. ‐ Matthew, how can you help?
‐ Well, my nickname "Shutter Eye"
isn't exclusively because of my anus.
I'm a talented food photographer!
Back in Catfish Holler,
I developed the cutest little eating disorder.
I would take pictures of food instead of eating it.
Now, of course, I just use portion control
before I vomit everything up.
‐ Matthew, you're hired.
‐ Oh! That's great news, Nate.
You won't be‐‐Aah!
‐ Aah!
Matthew! Oh, my Mouse!
Oh, my child bride. ‐ Oh, my good‐‐
Oh, everybody, I would like for you to meet
my ex‐wife, Trish.
‐ What? ‐ Whaaat?
‐ No. ‐ We used to be
the Prince Charles and Lady Di of Catfish Holler.
‐ [chuckles] But, Trish, what are you doing in town?
‐ Isn't it obvious?
She's part of Pence's conversion program.
‐ Oh, sugar booger, I don't know most of those words.
‐ Mike Pence has started a program
for licensed therapists to convert gay people
to heterosexual Americans!
‐ Lola, that's not happening. I mean, I believe you
when you say Pence is a failed prototype
for one of those Japanese sex robots,
but there's no conversion program.
‐ No, no, it's real. While we liberals
were busy debating whether those naked statues of Trump
were body shaming, Russia elected the fourth Reich.
‐ And there's a protest about it this afternoon at 3:00.
‐ Uhh. All these protests.
They keep popping up like Cosby accusers.
All right, how do I go? What, do I RSVP?
‐ It's not paperless post, idiot. Just go.
And pretend you don't know me!
‐ Trish, what are you doing in town?
You know I'm still a slave to the cock, right?
‐ Darlin', I know. I was invited
to do an artist residency at the Balloon Saloon.
‐ Trish is one of the top Balloon Artists
working in the medium.
‐ We met at a balloon fetish social.
‐ Mm‐hmm. That's when you feel sexually excited
by watching other people sit on balloons till they pop.
‐ Damn it, Matthew, we all know that.
Stop balloon‐splaining and get back to work.
‐ Oh, Trish, do you remember that teacher
we paid to be our "ticklish toilet"?
‐ Oh, no. Absolutely not.
[all chanting] Women against Woody Allen.
Women against Woody Allen!
‐ Oh, my God, it's you.
Of course it's you. ‐ What's going on?
Is this a flash mob? 'Cause I don't know the dance,
but I can certainly try to learn.
‐ No. It's a protest. Woody Allen's
shooting in New York again, and we're not okay with it.
Let me guess, dipshit. You just auditioned.
‐ Wait a minute. You look familiar.
Did we used to fuck in college?
Trick question. I only did boob stuff
with women in college. But seriously,
did we used to fuck in college?
‐ Andrea Mumford.
We've met several times.
None have gone well. ‐ I have no memory of that,
But you seem to know what you're talking about.
My name's Julie K‐‐ ‐ Kessler. Yeah, I know.
Another name for the WAWA Blacklist.
‐ Wait. You guys work on "The Blacklist"?
What does James Spader smell like?
‐ No, you bloated Wendy's mascot.
WAWA is Women Against Woody Allen.
Once the WAWA Blacklist is published
in the Women's History Month issue
of the "Hollywood Reporter,"
you can kiss your nonexistent career good‐bye.
‐ Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.
How dare you assume
I went up there to audition for Woody Allen, of all people.
I went in there to protest!
Yeah, that's right. I ripped up sides
right in front of that daughter‐marrying
clarinet‐tooting clown shoe.
And then, just to make sure he knew I was serious,
I burned my bra.
‐ Really? ‐ Yeah, really.
I'm a WAWA too. See this body I inhabit?
It's a Trojan Horse for justice.
These are the scales.
Come on. We did boob stuff in college.
‐ I would have remembered.
♪ ♪
‐ I love that this is my second protest in one day.
Although this one's intentional.
‐ Well, it was worth schlepping out to shit‐show Staten Island
to make our voices heard in front of
the one building in New York Trump actually owns.
Isn't it weird our parents used to go to
protests like this in the '60s all the time?
‐ Please. The only thing my mother used to
protest in the '60s was the notion of letting her hair
air dry so she could have a natural wave.
By the way, did I tell you she called me earlier?
She's furious because the federal government
revoked her parking privilege.
‐ Did somebody say privilege?
Oh, look, it's you two.
BOTH: Hi, Lola. ‐ Do the opposite
of that terrible bra you're wearing and hold these up.
‐ "Six Pence None the Gayer"?
I don't get it. Is that a joke?
‐ It's the gay conversion initiative.
The government's giving $6,000 to any gay person
who gets converted by a "licensed conversionist."
‐ Wait, pence is a thousand? I thought it was pennies!
I should also mention I've never read a Shakespeare play.
Book? Shakespeare playbook?
Stage movie? Anyway, I don't have a great education.
‐ Wait, h‐hold on. Who gets the 6,000?
The doctor or the patient? ‐ Exactly!
As if integrity could ever be bought
for such a paltry sum!
[crowd chanting]
‐ Conversion therapy?
I'll take any chance I can get
to spend time with you without that third red wheel.
But I had no idea you didn't wanna be gay!
‐ Oh, no, no, no, Marilyn, I do wanna be gay.
‐ Oh, whew! 'Cause even I couldn't convert a gay person.
If I could, you can bet that Circle Line Cruise
with Anderson Cooper would have gone a different way.
‐ [laughs] No, no, no. Look at this.
It's just a new government program.
They send you the paperwork,
and then you just fill out some materials
and then you get paid‐‐ It's all bullshit.
‐ Oh, come on, Billy. Conversion therapy!
That's beyond pseudoscience! It's harmful, and‐‐
Wait a minute. If I become a licensed conversionist,
I'd be eligible for MD parking permit again?
‐ See? It's a win‐win. ‐ You do know
that shrinks no longer have MD parking privileges.
The only way they told me that I could get it
is to become a member of the clergy,
and I had to preside over funerals for sperms
wasted in masturbation.
‐ No. ‐ Can you believe that?
I did a couple, and then I said enough is enough.
‐ Marilyn, what do you say? Will you help me become
a heterosexual thousandaire?
‐ If you help me become a charlatan with a parking permit!
BOTH: Fuck, yeah!
‐ Ha ha‐‐Oh! ‐ Oh, are you okay?
‐ Arthritis! ‐ Ha ha ha!
♪ ♪
‐ What's that smell? Is that "not dinner"?
‐ It is not dinner.
And it will never be dinner again.
Put pilot...I see now
how offensive my cooking for you was.
‐ I hate every minute of this confusing conversation.
‐ In honor of Women's History Month,
I'm working on a PBS documentary about Molly Kelly.
‐ Who? ‐ She was a feminist icon,
and resented her husband for infantilizing her.
And I see now that's what I'm doing to you by cooking.
‐ No! Arthur, there's nothing that helps
the feminist cause more
than a woman coming home to food a man made for her.
I should know‐‐I'm the newest member of WAWA.
‐ You joined Women Against Woody Allen?
I'm so proud of you!
You're a Molly Kelly in the making.
‐ Technically, all I did was set my tits on fire
during an audition I'll never get.
But it feels good to be on the right side of things
for once, you know? Fuck Woody Allen!
‐ That's right. [phone vibrates]
‐ Hello?
Really?
Arthur, Woody Allen just cast me in his new series.
‐ Listen, if his last Amazon show
is any indication, no one's even gonna know
you're working with Woody Allen
other than a handful of masochistic TV critics.
‐ I know. I just don't wanna be
on the WAWA Blacklist. ‐ Working with Woody Allen
never hurt Kristen Stewart or Parker Posey.
The only woman who ever got any blowback was Mia Farrow.
‐ But if I work with him, it's just gonna validate
his terrible behavior. And I'm not just talking about
the misogyny in his personal life‐‐
I mean, have you seen "Whatever Works"?
‐ Yes. And its portrayal of women
made Mickey Rooney's performance
in "Breakfast at Tiffany's" look nuanced and respectful.
‐ So what should I do? ‐ You're asking someone
who's taking 6 grand from Mike Pence
to pretend I'm not gay.
I don't know if I'm the right person
to be asking for ethical advice.
That said, maybe you can
affect some change from the inside.
‐ Yes, exactly. Fuck it! I'm gonna do it.
‐ Good. Just make sure you call someone
and let them know you want it.
‐ Oh, no, no, no, I already told them.
I decided last night. I just needed
a "Dirk Diggler in the mirror" style pep talk
before I, you know, whip out my schvantz.
‐ Oh, Matthew!
[exhales] Where is my Mouse?
‐ Oh, he went to the store
to get some lighting equipment for the website photo shoot.
‐ Oh, sugar in my bowl.
Will you give him this little balloon mousey I made?
‐ Sure. Julie, this is Matthew's ex‐wife.
‐ [laughing]
Wait, really?
‐ Oh, my God, doesn't this look like a little mini‐‐
‐ Strike Rat! Holy shit! ‐ Yes!
‐ We should have Matthew's weird ex‐wife
make us one of these. ‐ Or I can make you one.
‐ If we had our own Strike Rat, we could go anywhere.
'Cause everyone would think the staff is striking,
and then we would never have to wait in line again.
‐ Mrs. Matthew, how much do you think it would cost
to make a giant version of one of these?
‐ Oh, I'd do it for free...
if y'all two help me find Matthew
and get him alone so I can seduce him.
‐ Tch, aw, Trish.
I can only imagine your backstory.
♪ ♪
Well, did you open it? ‐ And ruin the surprise?
No. Three secret service men showed up,
and then I called you. ‐ Oh...my...God!
What is in here?
Okay, this is...
Oh, it's a letter for the conversionist.
‐ That's me. ‐ Ooh!
It's the new vice‐presidential seal.
Well, that's gotta be a... hmm.
Okay, well, if you tilt it, it's definitely a swastika.
So, we just won't tilt it. ‐ Absolutely.
"Dear brave medical professional,
"thank you for helping an American
take a step toward becoming a regular person."
‐ What? "Regular"? Oh, no, no, don't worry about me.
I'm not offended at all. ‐ No, I was just wondering
if maybe I should record books on tape.
My voice seems to have such a commanding quality.
‐ Ooh! It's a porn mag with identical twins on the cover!
God, is there anything hotter than incest?
What else is in here? Oh, a hacky sack and...
barbecue tongs. Boy, someone really put
a lot of thought into this. ‐ And look.
All three "Hangover" movies on DVD.
‐ God. Oh!
Coors?
‐ Dare we?
[bluesy music]
‐ So I read your new novel.
‐ So, I read your new novel.
‐ So I read your new novel.
‐ Wai‐‐I'm sorry, that can't be right.
How can we all have the same line?
‐ That's what it says in the script.
‐ How can you tell?
He writes in longhand on these...Post‐it notes.
‐ Maybe it means we all read the line at the same time?
‐ Is Woody here to help us? Woody?
‐ Nope. He heads home 2:00 p. m. every day
for a salted cottage cheese dinner.
‐ So back to one or...
‐ Okay, you're all set, all right?
There this is what's called
a DIY electroshock therapy kit.
Okay, you look at all these hot guys,
and then I give you a tiny shock.
‐ Here's a shock: I've definitely slept with this guy,
and he wasn't tiny!
[both laughing]
‐ I cannot understand what the big deal about all this is.
I dabbled in lesbianism in college.
‐ You did?! ‐ Yeah. Well, truth be told,
three dates in I realized Dutch was a lady.
And then I thought, "She's here, I'm here.
Might as well do some boob stuff."
‐ So how was it? ‐ Eh. It was like "Les Mis."
You know, a lotta people like it, but for me
it was too long, too confusing,
and too much drama for what you take away.
‐ Marilyn, are you gonna buzz my nips, or what?
‐ Okay, so‐‐ Wait a second.
Wait. There are more volts here than I thought.
Oh, sweetheart, no, no. Take those off.
Come on. This stopped being funny.
‐ You're right.
Aaaahhh!
‐ Aw! ‐ That hurt.
Aw. ‐ You're right.
We'll just throw it all away and tell them
that we did what they wanted us to do.
‐ Absolutely!
Would you mind if I kept "Hangover 3"?
I saw the first two, and I just wanna know
how it turns out for the gang.
‐ Wow. Trish really outdid herself with this Strike Rat.
I feel like we should have insisted on paying her.
‐ I know. But then I told her that Matthew was all alone
at the cafe tonight, and she refused to take any money.
She is one thirsty bitch. ‐ All right, Strikey.
Time to shame these suckers
into not crossing our fake picket line,
and we can go watch David Blaine blow his brains out.
‐ "Museum Workers 267." You gave it a name!
‐ Yeah. ‐ I like that!
‐ Thank you. I named it after my latest cholesterol count.
‐ Where should we go to eat after this?
‐ Somewhere impossible to get into.
But not too late. I have a big day tomorrow.
After I work on the new Woody Allen Show,
WAWA is honoring me for refusing to work on a Woody Allen show.
‐ Okay, that's huge. Not only did you manage
to avoid the Blacklist, but now you're the toast of the town.
‐ I know! Let's celebrate
by cutting lines all over the city!
Disperse! Disperse!
‐ Disperse. ‐ The power of Strikey
compels you to disperse! ‐ Very unfair!
‐ Get out of this David Blaine exhibit.
‐ David Blaine! ‐ This is a bad idea
for you to not...go away.
[cheerful music]
Well, he's dead.
‐ Yeah. It was all right.
‐ Yeah. What do you wanna do now?
‐ Do you wanna eat something? ‐ Or, um, "Hamilton"?
‐ Oh! With the rat. ‐ Yeah, yeah.
WOMEN: ♪ It's a good thing, good thing ♪
♪ That you're my friend ♪
♪ ♪
♪ It's a good thing, good thing ♪
♪ That you're my friend ♪
♪ ♪
♪ Something's turning ♪
♪ Now I'm learning ♪
♪ Who's a friend to ♪
♪ Me ♪
♪ ♪
‐ Yaaas!
There you are, little omelet.
[chuckles] I never have to eat you
Because I've captured you.
I win, food.
I...win!
[door clatters] ‐ Matthew.
‐ Hello, Trish.
Just coming from church?
‐ Actually, I was... on my way home
after a long day of twistin' balloons
into different shapes
and then sittin' on them until they...exploded
under the pressure of my seated behind.
You remember our weddin' night?
‐ You had a helluva nerve wearing white.
‐ And so did you.
[bright classical music]
‐ Oh!
Oh! Oh!
♪ ♪
[Matthew exclaiming]
♪ ♪
Oh...oh...oh...oh!
♪ ♪
‐ Rrrr! Rrrraah!
Rrraah!
♪ ♪
[dramatic musical flourish]
[objects clattering]
[old‐time bluesy music]
‐ Oh, Max, every time I see you,
I feel like I just smoked a bunch of grass.
‐ Drugs! Great... she's talking about drugs.
‐ I'm a mental imbecile, but you...
you're vibrating on a sexual energy.
I must be your muse.
[bluesy music continues]
♪ ♪
Is someone gonna yell, "Cut"?
‐ Aw, shit! Woody fell asleep again.
Come on, everybody. Start lookin' for him.
‐ Seriously? ‐ Yes! He's a napper
and a hider. I mean, it's frustrating
when he does both.
All right, everyone split up and search.
You know, when we were shooting "Midnight in Paris,"
he fell asleep in a lake.
So we gotta make sure we're lookin' for
bodies of water, okay?
Large and small!
All right, and let's not forget to use the call:
[shrilly] Wha‐whaaaa!
Wha‐whaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Woodyyyyyyyyyyy‐oh!
Woodyyyyyyyyy‐oh!
Let's hear it back!
‐ Wha‐wha‐wha‐Woody! ‐ Whaaaa...
‐ Woody? [crew shrilling in background]
Woody! [crew whooping]
‐ I found a fishing hat and some Knicks tickets‐‐
he can't be far!
Woody? ‐ Woody!
‐ Wah‐wah‐Woody! ‐ Woody?
‐ Hello, Newman.
‐ Oh, fuck!
‐ Hey, guys! I've been waiting all morning!
You finally showed up for the WAWA protest.
Woman! Again!
‐ You came in costume?
‐ No. This isn't a costume.
I work at speakeasies and supper clubs...
doing my burlesque act.
‐ Really? I'm a huge burlesque fan.
I've never seen you. Do something from your act.
‐ Well... ♪ I'm a hoochie‐coochie‐coo ♪
♪ And a hotty toddy too ♪
♪ And the town never knew ♪
♪ Such a hullaballoo ♪
[softly] Cha!
‐ Oh, that's right.
I have seen you before.
‐ Hey. Hey, actress.
Hey, actress in a Woody Allen series.
We found him. He fell asleep inside a matchbox.
We need you on set so we can wrap this scene up.
‐ Okay, fine! I'm in this thing.
If it's any consolation, it's fucking horrible.
‐ They're all fucking horrible since "Crimes and Misdemeanors."
‐ I know, but I need this big break
more than you guys need me to hold one of your signs.
Look, as soon as I make it, I'll give back to the cause.
I really am a feminist!
‐ The hell you are.
Welcome to the Blacklist.
We're gonna print your name in a font
that is five points bigger than Scarlett Johansson's.
‐ Ooh! ‐ Women!
‐ Uh, hey, actress, I got some bad news.
We're shuttin' down. ‐ Wait‐‐what?
‐ Turns out Manhattan Mini Storage
is the name of a business,
Woody doesn't want to go to the effort to pick a new title.
So...that's a wrap!
[background chatter]
[thud]
‐ Welcome home, Act Break.
How was shooting? ‐ The worst.
Woody shut down production after WAWA found out
that I lied. ‐ Sounds like somebody
just earned some chicken fingers.
‐ Ah! Thank God! You're cooking again.
I'm sorry I'll never be like Molly Kelly.
‐ It turns out that's a wonderful thing.
PBS researchers just learned
the reason Molly Kelly wanted to cook for herself
was because she was eating her children.
She didn't want her husband poking around the kitchen.
‐ No bueno! ‐ Yeah, so we're pulling
the Molly docuseries. PBS will celebrate
Women's History Month by rebroadcasting
Peri Gilpin's American Masters episode
for...yet another year.
‐ Roz from "Frasier," I raise a finger to your legacy.
These are all for me, right?
MAN: Next! ‐ A‐12.
‐ Driver's license, boat registration,
or no longer gay? ‐ No longer gay.
‐ And I fixed him, so I'm gonna need
a new MD parking permit.
‐ You're no longer gay.
‐ That's right. Serve me up some hot wings,
fire up "Better Call Saul" and please ask me how I feel
about women who don't wear makeup.
I have an opinion whether they're beautiful
with or without it.
‐ Yep. Checks out. Here's your parking permit.
And these are your straight bucks.
‐ Straight bucks? ‐ To make sure
you'll spend your money like a straight guy.
‐ A Tommy Bahama gift card?
How am I gonna spend 6 grand at Tommy fucking Bahama?
‐ These are my new MD plates?
"I'm an MD, I cure gays, and I believe in Jesus."
Those anti‐Semitic fucks! ‐ You can't put that
on your car. ‐ Of course I'm not gonna
put it on my car, are you kidding?
‐ Trish!
‐ Hi...
‐ What are you doing here?
‐ Boat permit.
‐ Trish.
You did come here to seduce Matthew
for Six Pence None the Gayer, didn't you?
‐ Yes, I was at first. But...
Then I got in too deep.
That's what he said!
[sobbing]
[rapid music]
‐ Three hours at fucking Tommy Bahama.
Finally I just bought this shirt
just so the salesman would leave me alone.
‐ And I compromised integrity I don't have
to be on a show that'll never air.
Plus, I'm still on the WAWA Blacklist.
‐ That's totally fucked up. We did the wrong thing,
and we still got nothing.
‐ Maybe it's time
to stop trying to cheat the system.
‐ Yeah. At a certain age, cutting the line
just becomes a nasty look.
Let's discuss this further over some Cajun Poke Balls.
‐ All right.
[crowd noise]
‐ Hey, assholes!
Why are you here with another rat?
Are you striking against the strikers, you sons of bitches?
Hey, look, the scabs have a scab rat.
‐ No, we are not.
We're balloon fetishists. ‐ Yeah.
We're balloon fetishists.
We are sexually stimulated by popping balloons.
‐ In public. ‐ In front of unions.
‐ Who we thought...had resolved this situation already.
‐ Yeah. ‐ Then prove it.
Pop your Strike Rat in front of us.
‐ Well, she can't because... I'm gonna come.
‐ Me, too. ‐ We're both gonna come.
We're gonna come right on the street,
and no one wants to see that.
‐ I don't care.
Pop. That. Rat.
CROWD: Pop. That. Rat.
Pop that rat!
‐ I'm sorry, Strikey.
‐ Pop that rat!
[pop]
[punk music]
♪ ♪