[whirring]
♪ ♪
[Hiroki] Announce the drop.
Your selection, my liege?
[Hiroki] Hmm...
The Dr. Phil box tee.
[sinister laughter]
[gasps] Dope as fuck, my lord.
Now drop it!
[sinister laughter]
♪ ♪
[computer] The sauce.
♪ America ♪
♪ I just checked my following list and ♪
♪ You motherfuckers owe me ♪
♪ Grandma told me, get your money ♪
- ♪ Black man, Black man ♪ - ♪ Get your money ♪
- ♪ Get down ♪ - [Benny] Game-worn Jordans, Diego.
- It's the deal of the century. - [Diego mutters indistinctly]
- Well, someone wore them in a game. - [computer chimes]
Holy shit. Diego, I'll call you back.
No way. Thank you, drop gods!
♪ Grandma told me, get your money ♪
- ♪ Get your money, Black man ♪ - ♪ Black man, Black man...
Swag.
Eomma. Appa. I need a ride to Fairfax.
No, Hyung-Joon. You should be studying, not shopping.
Ugh. If I miss this drop, I will never forgive you.
- Love you, pumpkin. - [door slams]
Stop milking almonds! Stop milking almonds!
- Stop milking almonds! - [cries out]
Derica, will you please take your protest away
from the salad bar?
Why don't you take your cis-white 'tude
- away from my protest, Chad? - [phone chimes]
[gasps] I'm out of here,
but not because you asked me to.
Enjoy your lunch break, sheep.
♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ♪
- ♪ Oh, oh ♪ - ♪ Yeah ♪
♪ Wake up to that...
- [indistinct chatter] - [car horns honking]
[Truman] Mm-hmm. Yeah, yeah.
Fire. Now give me a look that says, "What's up, Tinder?
- New widow on the block." - [motor starts]
[phone chimes]
Oh, dang.
- I gotta wrap this up. - Thanks, Truman.
Remind me, when do you turn 18?
I'm 13, Ms. P. Don't make me cancel you.
♪ Get your money, Black man ♪
- ♪ Black man ♪ - ♪ Get down ♪
♪ Ooh...
[indistinct chatter]
[all cheering]
♪ Grandma told me, get your money ♪
- ♪ Black man ♪ - ♪ Get your money, Black man ♪
- ♪ Black man ♪ - ♪ Get your money...
Damn it, Gucci, we're too late.
Yo, I haven't seen a line this long
since the Frances McDormand skate deck.
Fuck! Sorry I'm late, guys. Four-kayak pileup on the river.
Yo, we out of larges, so don't fuckin' ask!
[all groaning]
Back of the line, losers.
Are you serious? Sherman got one?
- Ha-ha. Suck it, Benny. - This motherfucker.
Reselling for eight hunj.
Link in bio. What the hell?!
Hoo! Asleep at the wheel again.
Aw, you got 'em good, Quattro.
Freshest birds on the block, Glenn.
Hey, snap a pic for the Gram right quick.
♪ Oh... ♪
- ♪ Waitin' for the... ♪ - ♪ Drop ♪
- ♪ Waitin' for... ♪ - ♪ The drop ♪
- ♪ Waitin' for the ♪ - ♪ Oh... ♪
♪ Waitin' for the ♪♪
Are we there yet? Because if we don't stop soon,
I'm gonna pee in my Nalgene.
Ask and ye shall receive.
Here we are, Dale, Fairfax Avenue.
Whoa, it's like Hogwarts for fashion.
[Grant] My buddies on Trip Advisor say
it's the coolest street in Los Angeles.
Whoa.
Hey, Dad, are you sure this is where
Uncle Robbie's vape store is?
Not his vape store, D-bone, our vape store.
And it's up to us to carry
the mango-flavored torch until he's back.
But what if I don't make any friends?
Everyone looks so friggin' cool.
You know what Prince used to tell me
when I'd get the pre-show jitters on tour?
Oh, I love it when you talk The Revolution, babe.
He'd say, "Trini, you ain't got to impress nobody.
You're already the flyest honeybee in Paisley Park.
And as long as you stay true to yourself,
- ain't nothing gonna stop you." - [Grant] Amen!
- Besides, you were captain of the hiking team. - Ugh.
You'll make friends in no time. Speaking of which,
- these kids look friendly. - Grant.
- Pardon me. Hey, guys. How you doing? - Dad! No, no, no! Don't.
Hey, what's this line for?
- For sucking this dick, old man. - [laughter]
[Dale sighs]
Huh.
Whoa.
Hey, watch it, normie.
Sorry.
[gasps] Whoa.
♪ Got a bird's-eye view, I'm with birds in a coupe ♪
♪ What it do? I'm the motherfuckin' man ♪
♪ Who is you? Who is you? ♪
♪ I stick to the plan, what's the move? ♪
♪ What's the move? ♪♪
[Sherman] Psst. Yo, kid.
I'll give you 50 bucks for that Patagonia hat.
- Fifty bucks? Okay. - [Benny] Hey!
It's not for sale, Sherman.
[♪ Pusha T: "If You Know You Know"]
♪ If you know, you know ♪♪
Hey, don't do it, dawg. Everybody knows
vintage 'Gonia hats are worth at least two hundo on Grailed.
Yeah. Get out of here, Sherman.
- [Derica hisses] - Fuckin' bunk-ass bootlegger!
- Fuck you, Sherman! - [laughter]
Never trust Sherman. He's a culture vulture.
He'd resell his mama's kidney if he could.
Damn, bro, that outfit is normcore as hell.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you look like if Tom Hanks
- fucked an REI. - Ha-ha! True.
You literally just named two of my favorite things.
- I'm Dale. - What up, Dale?
I'm Benny, aka Hyung-Joon.
This is Derica and Truman. The crew.
Hey, dope fanny. Where'd you get it?
From my dad. He got it for me
after I earned my climbing badge in Eagle Scouts.
- Eagle Scouts? - Climbing badge?
Hold up, are you telling me this isn't some
elaborately constructed outfit?
You're just rocking the hiking shoes
- for ankle support? - Yep.
Just moved here from Oregon with my family.
Rock climbing capital of the country.
- Can I get a whoop-whoop? - Don't do that.
So, what's everyone waiting for?
Thursday drop.
Right. Totally.
What's a drop?
- [all gasp] - [tires screech]
The fuck he just say?
[all] Schwimmer's!
[Benny] Welcome to Schwimmer's, Dale,
the dopest deli on Fairfax.
Awesome. What's good here?
Nothing. They got a "B" rating, and everything's, like, $40.
- I love it, though. - Here's your sodies, kids.
You know, Guns N' Roses used to drink cream sodies
in this very booth.
No disrespect, Phyllis,
but Guns N' Roses sucked ass.
No, sir, they ate pussy, and lots of it!
♪ Sha-na-na-na-na-na-knees, knees! ♪♪
- Oh, my God. - Yo, that's nasty. - [coughs]
All right, so a drop is...
How do I put this in Caucasian?
A drop is when someone puts out new shit.
It's like, uh, if milk suddenly came out with a three percent.
Or in this case, Latrine releasing
the Dr. Phil box tee.
It's the tightest shirt maybe ever,
and it's the key to overnight influencer status.
What's so special about Latrine?
I don't know, Dale, what's so special about the sun?
Bro, it's the holy grail of streetwear.
Founded by this guy, Hiroki Hassan.
He's super mysterious.
Nobody's ever seen him IRL.
Facts. They make everything from hoodies
to fire extinguishers.
So, like an expensive Walmart.
What? No!
Ooh, okay. That's a pretty hot take.
They just came out with an old-fashioned pencil sharpener.
You know, the ones you crank?
Dude, I can't even.
It's reselling for nine hunj.
All because Timothée Chalamet copped one.
I want one so bad, man.
Why would anyone pay $900 for a pencil sharpener?
It's simple, Dale. The more Latrine gear you get,
the more likes you get.
And if you get enough likes, you become an influencer.
And when you're an influencer, you get to tell your dad
to go fuck himself, because you're too busy
selling Travis Scott a pair of Nike Air Mags.
[Truman] Or direct an Oscar-winning
A24 indie movie starring Zendaya
and Amy Adams, instead of taking profile pictures
of bunk-ass widows in their garage.
[Derica] Or you finally become BFFs with Greta Thunberg
and save the planet from extinction.
So I don't have to protest at a goddamn Whole Foods.
And if I happen to make Teen Vogue's 15 Under 15,
that's cool, too.
Oh... my... God.
We gotta get that box tee.
All right, that's gonna be pretty hard
considering they're, uh, all sold out.
Except for one.
Go on.
Right before Sherman called me over,
I saw some skater guy with bleached hair.
Lucas, the manager.
Well, I saw him take one of the box tees to the back.
- [gasps] - Then the dream is still alive.
Come on, fam.
We got work to do.
[all] Let's fucking build...!
- Dab. - No. - That ain't it
Nobody dabs anymore, Dale. Jesus.
[♪ Tobi Lou: "Buff Baby"]
♪ Like a man...
Whoa, what are we doing here?
We're here to see The Plug.
Homie's got an in with Hiroki himself.
Yeah, if anyone can get their hands on a box tee,
it's The Plug.
♪ About a while ago ♪♪
[Dale] Your plug is Joaquin Phoenix?
Yo, Joaquin, what up?
Word on the street is there's still a Dr. Phil
box tee up for grabs.
- Can you help us out? - No. Sorry, Benny,
I've just been super busy with my new art installation.
Cool, cool. So, like, artist to artist, what's your medium?
Oil on canvas, video, mixed media?
I'm gonna light myself on fire.
- Wow. - Love it. So cerebral.
I get it right away.
Is that safe, though?
Art isn't supposed to be safe, little man.
Yo, Joaq-dawg, you should produce my next short.
It's called "Untitled Shit Project."
It's about Benny's dog taking a poo.
Sounds like a Sundance play to me.
So, Joaq-a-molé,
just circling back on the box tee.
Is there anything you can do?
Please! We'll wash your sunglasses for a month.
- Firm no, my man. Sorry. - Shit.
- [Derica] Aw, man! - Now what are we supposed to do?
[flames whoosh]
♪ Bitch, I'm really havin' that, havin' that ♪
♪ Money all still under the mattress...
Okay, you copped a Latrine backpack,
two salad spinners
and the Dust Buster; that'll be $1,200.
[phone rings]
Hello, Lucas.
Yeah, my phone doesn't have this number. Who is this?
It doesn't matter who I am.
- It's what I have. - [dog whines]
Cookie? Yo, she's supposed to be in daycare right now.
Well, if you ever want to see Cookie again,
you'll bring a Dr. Phil box tee to the back alley.
Hey, that's hilarious, dude, except we've been sold out
of the box tee for hours, motherfucker.
- Bullshit! We know you have more in the back. - [Cookie yaps]
Yo, who are you people?
None of your business. What matters now is the fate
of this genetically altered designer dog.
[man] Un horchata para Derica.
- Derica? - Sí, Derica.
[over speaker] D-E-R-I-C-A.
Motherfucker, dude!
I swear to God, you guys better take Cookie back
to Barkingham Palace right now,
or I'll call the freakin' fuzz, dude!
- Oh shit. - [Benny] Yo!
Go, go, go, go, go.
I told Esquivez not to use my name.
[man] Y un kids quesadilla para Dale.
Last shot, guys.
This one's for the troops.
You know how many photo shoots I had to do with old-ass ladies
to pay for this bad boy?
Talking about, "Ooh, you should meet my daughter."
No. You ugly, she ugly.
It's gonna be worth it, Tru. Do the honors.
- [device beeping] - Houston, we have liftoff.
- [Dale] Here we go. - [Derica] Come on, you got this, Tru.
- Dope. - Fire. - Wow-ee.
"Wow-ee," my dude?
[computer] You have illegally entered Latrine airspace.
GTFO. GTFO.
Oh, shit. No, no, no, no.
No, no, no, not my baby.
- [gasping] - [screaming]
No! Shit.
Oh, God! No!
Oh. Remind me to never fly due course over Latrine.
Sorry about your drone, Tru.
"Untitled Shit Project," shelved once again.
[horn honks]
Hyung-Joon! You need to practice your cello. Let's go!
Okay. I got to run, guys.
Mom's taking me to cop some new fits. Deuces.
Wait, wait, wait, wait. Quick selfie for the Story.
This lighting tasty as hell.
- Come on, Dale. Get in, you bitch. - Yeah, you herb.
[laughter]
Gang gang.
Best first day ever!
Oh. Did my little baby make friends?
Not just friends, Trini. Best friends.
The very best friends in the whole wide world.
And we are a gang gang.
[air horn blows]
So there's this kid, Benny. He's like the Wizard of Oz.
And this girl, Derica. Actually, I'm not sure
if she identifies as a girl,
but she could legit be president one day.
Then there's Truman. He told me he fingered a girl once.
- [coughing] - This person is how old?
And, Dad, get this. I'm normcore.
Well, that's great, buddy.
Now, if I could just figure out how to get the box tee,
I could be a part of the gang gang forever.
I'm sure you'll think of something, sweetie.
You always do. Mwah.
Night night. Mwah, mwah, mwah.
And one for luck. Mwah.
[grunting]
[doors creak]
♪ ♪
[gasps]
[Dale] You're the guy from the box tee.
Dr. Phil. How are you, muchacho?
Heard you're having trouble getting ahold of my T-shirt.
Well, yeah. You see, I need to get one
to impress my new friends, but there's only one left
and-and security keeps busting us.
Please help me, Dr. Phil. I'm out of my element here.
Of course you are, Dorothy.
You're not in Oregon anymore.
You're going about this all wrong.
Look, Dale. If they're not gonna let you through
the front door, you got to think outside the box tee.
That's what a real influencer would do.
Outside the box tee.
[gasps] You're a genius, Dr. Phil.
- Thank you. - Hey, my pleasure, hombre.
Um, excuse me, Dr. Phil?
Yes, Dale?
Who are you?
I'm Oprah's BFF.
Your kooky aunt's favorite daytime TV therapist?
The point is, I'm on the box tee because it's ironic.
Oh.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I got to go help a teenager
who thinks he's a cyborg.
Nice glow stars.
Feels like I'm camping.
This better be good, Dale.
My mom is making enchiladas right now.
I know how to get the box tee. It's so simple.
The vent. It's connected to Latrine.
If we crawl through it, the box tee is ours.
If we get caught, my parents will kill me.
Or we'll get banned from Latrine,
and at that point, we might as well kill ourselves.
They're right. It's not worth it.
Sorry, Dale. Maybe next time.
Wait a minute.
I thought you guys wanted to be influencers.
Derica, did Greta Thunberg back down when she was bullied
for sailing across the Atlantic in an eco-friendly sailboat?
That's right, I googled her.
A-And Benny. What about Travis Scott, aka Cactus Jack,
aka Jacques Bermon Webster II?
Yep, googled him, too.
You think ditching his multiplatinum rapping career
to become a renowned amusement park owner was easy?
I'll tell you right now, no, sir-itos, it was not.
And, Truman, I'm sorry, I fell asleep after googling Travis,
but the point is, the only way you're gonna become
a world-renowned filmmaker is by taking a risk.
So what do you say?
Are we going into that vent or what?
Let's get that goddamn box tee.
[grunting]
Almost there. Just a little bit more.
- [farts] - Bro.
- [Derica] Ew! - Go see a doctor, for real.
[laughing] I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
We had galbi last night.
- [farting] - [Truman] It's not funny, bro.
- Ew. - And tofu soup.
- [farting] - [metal thuds]
I think Truman fainted, but I can't see anything.
Oh, hold on. I've got "strike anywhere" matches
- in my fanny. - [Derica] Dale!
[distorted] No!
[screaming, grunting]
[screaming]
[grunting]
Never underestimate the power of a galbi fart.
Uh, you guys.
Look.
Latrine spike pit!
- Sick. - [rumbling]
[all screaming]
Now what are we supposed to do?
Remember, Dale.
[echoes] Think outside the box tee.
Scout it up.
♪ ♪
♪ Look at me, look at me, look at me ♪
♪ Look at me, look at me, look at me now ♪
♪ Fuck is you kidding me...
Ropes badge.
[whooping]
[screaming]
♪ Look at me, look at me, look at me now ♪♪
Yes.
[computer] Access granted.
Welcome, fam.
♪ ♪
[Truman] Oh, hell yeah.
[Derica] Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
- Wow-ee. - Dope!
- Holy shit. - [laughs]
- Dude. - No way.
Whoa.
What the...?
[alarm blaring]
Got you, you little shits.
Y'all are fucked now.
You're not gonna kill us, are you?
Worse. I'm calling your parents.
- [cackles] - [crying]
No...!
[grunting]
Video diary. Locked up.
Day one in Latrine jail.
Derica, what's good?
Bruh, we played ourselves.
When I get home, my mom's gonna drag my ass to Sunday church,
and I hate church.
Yo, when my pops finds out, he's gonna disown me.
I can kiss my camera goodbye.
You think your parents are gonna be pissed?
I'm gonna be practicing cello until I'm 40.
- What? - Hold on, hold on, what?
That's right. I play the cello.
When my mom picks me up, it's not to get dope fits,
it's to practice my cello.
- Thanks a lot, Dale. - I-I'm sorry, but...
I was just trying to help.
Dr. Phil said it would work.
I knew it. We never should've let this kid in the crew.
Hey, bowl cut,
your parents are here. Let's go.
If I die, bury me in the Gucci sto'.
[crying]
[cello playing "Shallow"]
♪ ♪
♪ Yo...
Hey, how's our little jailbird doing?
Awful. My life is over.
I'm never gonna be an influencer and all my friends hate me.
Oh, your life ain't over, honey.
You're white. You're gonna get a million second chances.
[chuckles] Well, I-I don't know how to piggyback off that.
Dale, just promise us you won't do it again. Okay?
Scout's honor.
Oh. By the way,
guess whose rad dad is totally in with the Latrine guys.
Wait, are you serious? How?
Yeah, I went over to introduce myself.
Had a chill kickback, dropped into the bowl.
Yeah, they liked me so much, they gave me that goofy
Stanley Tucci shirt you were raving about
as a little "welcome to the neighborhood."
Oh, my God.
I-It's just so... fire.
What?
What the hell are you doing?
I haven't talked on the phone since the fourth grade.
Yeah, I know, but I have no idea what you're saying,
and I still have something to tell you.
Then hang up and text us back.
Just meet me outside Latrine, okay?
♪ ♪
[barking]
[laughter]
What happened to you?
No gear for a week.
Wow. Your mom's a savage, dude.
You look like a cupcake.
- [laughter] - Man, fuck you, Truman.
Now, what were all those texts you were sending me?
It's called an emoji-pology, Dale.
Sorry for being bitches, dude.
- You didn't deserve that. - So we're still friends?
How many times do we need to say it? Yes.
- We're still homies. - We just got caught up
in the Latrine hype.
Yeah, the box tee took over.
That's why I called you here.
Check it out.
- Kaboom. - [air horn blows]
And...?
And we're influencers now.
Why aren't you guys more excited?
Mm, it really don't be working like that, though.
But you said that's exactly how it be working.
Nah, you're too late.
It's only been one day.
Yeah, that's, like, five years on the Gram.
The Dr. Phil box tee, that's old news, man.
It's all about the Latrine dog cone now.
I'm showing up to school with a fucking dog cone on Monday.
- [dog barks] - [Dale sighs]
Yep, that's Fairfax for you.
Here today, gone today.
Hey, Dale!
Check it out. We're twins.
RIP, Dr. Phil box tee.
[whimpers]
Yo, let me see that shirt real quick.
Kobe!
- [all cheering] - Yo, Dale,
what's your Gram handle?
- Follow for follow? - I don't have one.
- Yo, what? - What the fuck?
- Dale, come on. - Why, is that bad?
[all] Schwimmer's!
[screaming]
Yo, I don't know how the fuck
I'm supposed to smoke a blunt in this dog cone,
but I look fresh as hell.
♪ The buck is hot ♪
♪ ♪
♪ The buck is hot ♪
♪ ♪
♪ The buck is hot ♪
♪ ♪
♪ The buck is hot ♪♪
Chirp.