‐ King Merriman! You're not supposed to take more gems!
They're cursed! ‐ Sorry, I can't hear your nonsense.
I have these cursed gems in my ears.
‐ You have to stop. The castle's nearly done,
what more can you do? ‐ Glad you asked.
King Randy doesn't have a giant emerald dong on his castle,
with a clock in it. I call it my Cock Tower.
Feast your eyes, Randy! Cock Tower!
I just wish I could let all the kings know how wealthy I am.
But how do I quickly get word out that I'm rich and everyone else is poor?
‐ Oh! Guess who's pregnant?
‐ Good Christ, woman, we've just got back on our feet!
‐ Not me, you dim‐witted chode.
Topher and Collette's daughter, Druella!
Knocked up by the landscaper's son.
‐ Good luck marrying that off.
They must be humiliated. ‐ This is a good day.
‐ Wait, how do you know all this?
‐ From Blossom's boarding school.
Seems like things haven't changed since I was a student there.
It's still a hot bed of gossip.
A hot gos‐bed.
God! I'm fucking hilarious.
‐ Hm...
PRINCIPAL PINION: And congratulations to the debate club
who took top scores at
the Accusing‐The‐Maid‐Of‐ Stealing‐The‐Silverware nationals.
Fifty‐three fired maids, a world record.
Now, to close out our morning announcements,
please let me introduce King Merriman, who, quote,
"Has a big‐ass secret to tell you,
and also loves his daughter Blossom very much."
‐ Oh my god...
‐ Goddammit, Dad!
‐ Presenting my gift to your school:
The King Merriman Mindfulness Center
Slash Butterfly Sanctuary.
Butterflies are basically sexy moths,
so why wouldn't I save them?
‐ You're losing them.
Tell them what you're about to say is a secret.
‐ What I'm about to say
is a secret. ‐ Did he say a secret?
‐ Is the secret that you sit to pee?
‐ My secret is...
my kingdom has more gems than dirt.
I'm basically ejaculating gold at this point.
‐ I replaced my nipples with gems.
‐ Keep your tits in your top, vodka‐veins!
‐ Please do not tell anyone about our extraordinary wealth,
especially not your king and queen parents.
I'm looking at you, Druella.
‐ To honor this generous, unnecessary gift,
the Silver Spoons will kick off the dedication ceremony.
‐ Ugh! Which one of you is flat?
‐ I'm a dragon...
‐ My greenhouse! ‐ My soloist!
‐ My larynx.
‐ This student is on drugs!
‐ Drugs? I know drugs.
Three of my three siblings are on drugs.
No drug abuser heals without addressing the underlying issues.
How's your relationship with your parents?
‐ Wrong! You gotta sweat that shit out.
We're going for a jog.
‐ Let's not let this distract from my wife's gem nipples!
And my generous donation of a mindfulness center
slash butterfly sanctuary! I'm a dragon!
Ah!
‐ Fucking damn it! The sexy moths!
It's a massacre!
We have to put a stop to this drug crisis!
‐ Agreed! We've never had a drug problem here before.
‐ I mean, how else will word get out to the other kingdoms
how rich and powerful I've become
if everyone's worried about their dumbass druggie daughters?
Wasted schoolgirls is a way sexier story than my gems.
‐ Ahem! ‐ I mean,
I‐I'm so worried about the kids.
It's all about those kids.
‐ Our little girl goes here, and she's very susceptible to peer pressure.
If there are drugs, she will absolutely do the drugs.
‐ That's it. I'm putting my best men on the case.
Um, I'm putting my...
most easy‐to‐reach men on the case.
MUSIC TEACHER: Exciting news, everyone.
Gina's in the hospital due to a missing larynx.
That is not the exciting news.
Since Gina will no longer be singing lead,
we will have a new round of solo auditions!
Oh!
You can clap now.
That's right! The only time
I get to openly criticize you
without getting letters from your parents!
‐ Auditions?! I should be the lead!
My parents gave a lot of money to this school.
This morning...
‐ This is Huffman‐Loughlin Academy.
Everyone's parents give a lot of money.
If I make you lead,
I have to make everyone lead!
‐ Can I pretty please be extra lead?
‐ You can audition like everyone else.
‐ Fucking shit!
‐ Sign‐up sheet up front. Don't steal my pen!
‐ Oh my gosh, that's insane!
‐ Ugh! I hope my voice is on point today.
I'm so tired because of
all the sex stuff I had last night.
Yup. So many dicks.
Ugh, like a forest of dicks.
What about you, Bisque? What's the most dicks you've had up in there?
Ugh, I had seven.
Seven dicks! Last night.
Pretty standard but, oh my god.
I'm so tireeed...
‐ Blossom, you're such a basic bitch.
‐ Yup. Just two grown women talkin' sex.
Classic lady stuff.
Girlboss.
‐ Who's selling the drugs?! ‐ Don't push her.
She's probably on 'roids.
I've never taken performance‐enhancing substances.
Rah!
‐ Mm‐kay... Cool...
Do we have a name? ‐ No.
We have a very disturbing poem.
What does the shallow grave filled
with the blood of your loved ones represent?
The future, ugh.
‐ Okay. We're just gonna refer you over to a counselor.
Again?
‐ Be honest. Do. You. Take. Drugs?
‐ Yeah. I take 'em all the time.
Like, one a day. I'm high right now, you fucking pig!
Fuck the po‐lice!
‐ Yeah, she's clean.
♪
‐ Broth? ‐ Bisque!
Oh! ‐ You eating okay?
You look horrible. ‐ Aw, thank you!
I'm a squire now! Patrick,
this is my little sister, Bisque!
‐ I didn't know you had a sister,
who goes to an exclusive boarding school
that's insanely expensive!
‐ Yeah. I come from a lot of money, but my parents cut me off
after I wouldn't join the family law firm.
I had to follow my dreams!
Even if it meant giving up yacht privileges.
You get it, right?
‐ Half my teeth are just polished rocks, so no.
‐ Here's some advice. Teenage girls are cliquish and weird.
‐ We're not going to disclose secrets to a couple of old men.
‐ No wonder they're not talking to us. Wait.
We're not old men.
Aw. That wasn't one of the rocks.
♪
‐ Ah! Hello?
Is anyone in this room doing drugs?
Get out! Get out!
‐ Well, if nobody's holding, can you at least direct me to the bar, please?
Oh! My old dorm room!
Ah!
♪
Ugh. Merriman.
‐ Tulip! Did you get my dick brick?
‐ Yes, you idiot.
‐ Send a titty‐brick back.
‐ Go home!
‐ Oh... Jesus... Christ...
‐ Stop flashing back in here! Ugh!
♪
‐ Late for class? I'm the king, and I have the power to give you detention.
‐ We figured in order to get information from teenage girls,
we had to become teenage girls!
‐ You still have detention.
‐ No, sire, we have work to do.
‐ Yes, you do. Look at this headline.
Nobody's talking about my riches!
The little drug‐vacuums are taking all the press!
Keep my daughter safe, and don't make me look stupid.
Ah! Oh!
Ah...
‐ Alright, Broth, let's go. ‐ Broth?!
I'm Clementine! I'm fun,
flirty, and under 30.
I was found in swaddling clothes behind a nunnery,
and I can jump higher than a tree. What's your name?
‐ Patricia. Like Patrick, but girl.
‐ Great! And what's your vertical?
♪
‐ Bisque! It's us! ‐ Yes, obviously.
‐ Thanks for lending us your makeup.
‐ Thanks for using all of it.
Let me give you the lay of the land.
Each student is an individual
who cannot be lumped into stereotypes.
‐ Giving the lay of the land to the new girls?
Oh my god, this is my specialty! Okay,
that's the drama nerds,
the band sluts,
next to them's the goths,
there's the dead poets society,
the punks, the T‐Birds,
that's just Sandy,
there's the baseball furies,
those are the MS‐13s.
Stay away from them. They're freshmen with multiple sclerosis.
Those are the preggos. 'Sup, Druella!
Choke on seven dicks.
Those are the sons of anarchy, my table.
And finally, the art kids. They are freakos.
Stay away from them.
♪
BOTH Drugs!
‐ Wait, are we sharing secrets?
My dad sits down to pee.
♪
‐ Broth, keep your eyes peeled.
Those drugs have to be here somewhere.
‐ Oh, Clementine, my word.
This is inspired!
A true feminist metaphor.
Patricia... Try harder, dear.
I'm going in.
Cool, uh,
thing.
I'm in the market for some... art supplies,
if you know what I mean.
‐ Glue?
‐ Whatever fucks me up the best.
‐ Glitter glue?
And then Ms. Blick was all like,
"Girl art? Try harder."
Sh! Sh! Shut the fuck up! Here she comes!
Oh, Clementine. I'm getting nowhere.
But, I've got some great tips about glue.
Wait, were you talking about me?
‐ Nope.
‐ You're welcome.
‐ Bravo, mon cheri!
The part is yours‐‐ ‐ Wait! I didn't audition yet.
‐ Save yourself the embarrassment.
‐ Ugh! Fine. Please, just get this over with.
‐ Um, this song helped me through
a vulnerable time in my life.
‐ Sing quieter.
‐ Fuckin'?
‐ Extra lead goes to Bisque. ‐ I know.
♪
‐ Hello? Janitor time!
Coming in to clean your poop!
Ah. The coast is clear.
Here we are. Gossip central.
What's today's tea?
"Druella felt the baby kick." Well, that's nice.
Poem about trees. Who cares?
"Fern, picture of scissors, Ivy."
Hm. Baffling.
Let's heat up this message board.
"King Merriman is rich,
"and we should tell our parents he is an ice pimp daddy,
or use whatever the current vernacular is."
Bomboclaat! "Signed, a student."
GIRL 1: I now call to order
the meeting of the Bulimia Club!
‐ Oh no. It's an unattainable standard.
GIRL 2: I'm going to get to a size zero!
‐ Well, I'm going to choose to love myself as I am,
and you should, too!
‐ Hey, guys! Big hang!
Booze and crispy drugs. Super popular and cool!
Oh my god, Ivy.
You're so desperate for attention.
Guys, don't go after her. It's what she wants.
‐ I am a dragon!
FERN: Wait, Ivy! Come back!
‐ Ivy! Stop being random!
‐ The drugs are turning her green!
‐ Oh! That is so awesome
and tragic. Should be me lying there.
I'm gonna find the drugs and do them all at the same time.
‐ Come on! We can't lose her!
♪
Damn it! We can't go in there.
‐ Patricia, don't be self‐conscious.
All bodies are beautiful.
‐ Broth, we are "A," grownups,
"B," penis‐havers, and "C," cops.
‐ Ah, you're right! We can't go in,
but Clementine can.
‐ Wha‐‐ Y‐‐ Clementine is you.
Broth is Clementine! Huh? MS. BLICK: Okay, here you go.
♪
‐ This thing goes all the way to the top...
of the art department.
Ms. Blick? We hear you have the goods.
‐ Oh, is it that time? ‐ It's always that time!
‐ Ew. That could be trouble down the road.
Five bucks each. ‐ You're out of business, Blick!
‐ Oh, hell no! I'm not getting robbed today!
Ha, ha!
‐ We're not trying to rob you!
We're only trying to tie you up!
‐ I taught art therapy to at‐risk youth!
You think you can scare me?!
♪
‐ Eat this, you drug‐pushing hippie!
‐ Ha, ha! Good thinking, Clem!
‐ Ah, shit! Run!
Ah shit!
‐ Jesus Christ! The kiln has a childproof lock!
Pinch and twist! Pinch and motherfucking twist!
‐ It won't open!
‐ Maybe she fell asleep?
‐ Ah! ‐ I'm gonna puke!
‐ Hey, Bisque! Do you have any drugs I can eat?
I'm trying to slap some cred on this ass.
‐ First, if I had drugs, I wouldn't give them to you.
Second, don't interrupt me while I'm practicing
for my extra lead solo.
‐ Oh! Ah!
Why so many stairs?!
Ah!
‐ I may be a basic bitch,
but you're a basement Bisque!
Aw. No one heard me.
‐ I've had a very stressful day. You better have good news.
‐ Here are your drugs,
and here is your drug dealer. Broth made the urn.
‐ A strong feminist metaphor.
It's what she would've wanted.
‐ Good work, hoes.
‐ Merriman, at first, I was skeptical
about your men running around undercover,
but color me impressed.
‐ These aren't drugs. They're tampons!
MEN: Tampons?!
‐ Wait a minute. Isn't that recently widowed Ms. Blick's tote bag?
‐ Okay, real talk. We need to have a serious discussion
about who's singing lead at the ceremony.
♪
That looks like one of the tampons two‐time breast cancer survivor
Ms. Blick sells.
‐ Ms. Blick sells tampons?
‐ Hell yeah, she does!
Those free pads in the bathroom are like sandpaper.
It's like every day of your period is raw taco Tuesday.
Am I right, Clementine? ‐ Preach, girlfriend.
‐ What the hell happened to you? Who cares.
Anyway, I heard Ms. Blick's latest batch is clover‐scented,
and all the proceeds go to a charity
that helps drug‐addicted puppies get adopted!
Like, oh my god! I wouldn't wanna live in a world
without Ms. Blick!
‐ Oh, I need to lie down.
‐ Ms. Blick is exceptional.
Quick to anger, but nobody's perfect.
We're honoring her with a lifetime achievement award
at today's ceremony. Where is she anyway?
‐ She's been... kilned.
‐ Without context, that means nothing.
The event is canceled.
We're in the midst of a drug epidemic,
and we're missing our soloist, who also happens to be
the most popular girl in her grade as per my ranking.
‐ We can still solve this. We need to think like
15‐year‐old girls!
‐ Okay, we know girls think they're turning into...
Dragon! ‐ Exactly. They scream‐‐
‐ I am now a dragon now! ‐ Broth!
It's the tampons! Take them out!
‐ Dragon! ‐ Broth! Come back!
‐ Rah! Dragon!
Let me out!
I've learned the secret behind the drug overdoses!
‐ I know! It's the tampons!
Go tell everyone to take their tampons out!
I gotta go save the most beautiful girl in the world.
‐ Everyone! Take out your tampons!
‐ Hm. Let's see where this is going.
‐ They are full of drugs!
GIRL: Yank it!
‐ Oh! This reminds me of my bachelorette party.
Oh no!
Broth! Oh my god, Broth!
Ow.
‐ You're not a dragon!
You're my brother!
‐ Are you shitting me?
l let you paint my goddamn toenails, you freak.
‐ Oh. Bisque?
Oh my gosh, I was out of my mind!
I thought you were the pope! ‐ Yeah?
Does the pope kiss like this?
‐ They're not gonna... Ew!
‐ Wouldn't that be weird?
‐ Classic viking prank.
Will we? Won't we?
‐ Right? Like, everyone's like, "Is it real?"
‐ Stop talking. ‐ Someone explain this at once!
‐ Well, the tampons were causing the overdoses.
But what I don't understand is how.
‐ I can answer that question.
Ms. Blick was always tinkering
with the recipe for her homemade tampons
in the shady basement.
She perfected the clover scent using a chemical called
phencyclidine, AKA...
angel dust.
‐ But, Bisque, what about the green‐colored skin?
‐ The drugs shut down kidney function,
turning skin yellow, and also cut off oxygen,
turning skin blue.
According to Ms. Blick's color wheel,
yellow and blue make green.
‐ Whoa! You're a genius!
And not to make this exposition any longer,
but how'd you figure all that out?
‐ I saw the empty bottles in the basement when Blossom
threw me down there.
But I'm sure Ms. Blick will explain
the side effects were just an accident.
‐ Nah, dude, she won't.
She dead.
‐ Renowned special needs
children's book author Ms. Blick is dead?!
‐ Some might say... she was kilned.
‐ That's the second time you've employed that pun.
Are you saying Ms. Blick died in the art room kiln,
fired at a temperature of over 1,800 degrees
until her flesh turned to ash?
‐ Yerp. ‐ This is the worst day
in the history of our school! Where's the other degenerate
posing as a student?
‐ Oh, I just wanted to be closer to my daughter!
‐ Tell it to the judge, Michael.
‐ I need to start paying more attention.
‐ Ew! I let you French me!
‐ B‐braid! French braid!
‐ Well, I can tell what tomorrow's gossip is gonna be,
and it's not about how fucking rich I am.
It was all for nothing, sparkle‐nips.
‐ Not for nothing. Hm?
‐ Ah! A titty‐brick!
You remembered!
‐ Mm‐hm‐hmm!
‐ What a day.
Let's open this fucking greenhouse.
‐ Well, that sucked. ‐ Thank you for the review.
Also, you're expelled.
‐ What? Why? ‐ For shoving the most popular girl
in your grade down a flight of stairs,
and because I don't much care for your obnoxious parents!
Enjoy public school.
‐ What's public school?
‐ Since your daughter is no longer a student here,
we'll be replacing your name
on the Mindfulness Center Slash Butterfly Sanctuary.
‐ This is bullshit.
Burn it all down!
♪
‐ You're the new girl, Blossom, right?
Welcome to public school.
Come help me push this desk against the door.
‐ Why are we doing this?
‐ Active shooter protocols.
Shelter in place, stay quiet, write your loved ones.
‐ Ah! Oh my god!
Active shooter?
Does this happen a lot? ‐ No, no, no.
Well, not enough to enact meaningful arrow reform.
Anyway, let me give you the lay of the land.
Those are the active shooters.
‐ Ugh...
CHILD: That was amazing.