(truck's reverse warning signal beeping)
Huh? (grunts)
Anderson, party of four, your table's ready.
Ander... Oh!
Hear ye, hear ye.
Big news is afoot, my babies.
CUSTOMER: Shut up, Randy!
Ha‐ha!
They're building a Lord Lobster on the 311 bypass.
And so it is written.
- (grunts) - Ooh! Lord Lobster?
- Cheddar biscuits. - Lobster and langoustine pizza.
- The Mariner's Platter. - It's the best.
Well, the Last Supper has some great dishes, too.
Y'all, don't be seduced by the big corporate butts.
Well, well, well,
sounds pretty tasty if you like the taste of death.
So... table for one?
Table for nobody,
- once that Lord Lobster opens up. - Oh,
I think we can handle a little competition.
That Highway 311 bypass is already making it real easy
to blow past towns like this one.
When that Lord Lobster gets built,
everything changes.
I hail from Delk,
just over yonder, in Davidson County.
'Twas one of the first towns to be decimated
by the 311 bypass
and the plague of corporate sprawl.
People love chains, and that means
the mom and pop places die out,
choked to death.
Delk Country Diner,
RIP when they built a Country Tub
right off the exit.
J&H Hardware, RIP.
Couldn't compete with the Hardware Warehouse.
John and Hester had to move to Pensacola
- to live with their adult son. - (all gasp)
Soon, you'll all be living with your adult children.
I don't have any adult children.
That's a choice you made 30 years ago, buddy.
Y'all, don't get all worked up over this handsome stranger.
I mean, we don't even know who you are.
- My name is Richard Pyunst. - What's that, now?
My name is Richard Chokachee Pyunst.
Well, mister... How do you say your last name?
- Pyunst. - Okay, well, Mr. Py‐ounst...
No, put more "oo" into it. Pyunst.
(whip cracks)
Mr. Pyunst.
- You got it. - Well, Mr. Pyunst,
I'm here to tell you that can't happen here.
Everyone loves the Last Supper in Greenpoint,
and its people are too amazing
to be steamrolled by a bunch of corporate butts.
Oh, no? Ticktock, ticktock, Greenpoint.
(all gasp)
♪ ♪
WEBB: Now, I know
we all have concerns about Lord Lobster.
That's why I called this forum.
We're the walking dead.
Greenpoint's gonna wither and die.
Everyone's worried!
Even Bud's Babydolls.
And no one pays to see a worried dancer.
Show 'em, Dawn!
(townspeople groan, exclaim)
The people of Greenpoint are the dinosaurs
and Lord Lobster's the asteroid that's gonna wipe us out!
(sniffles) We are done for.
(all gasp)
I got on Daniel's businessman computer
and looked up Lord Lobster's latest commercial
and I am scared, y'all.
‐(confused noises) ‐Oh, okay.
That's Daniel working out.
Just click out of that one.
There it is, y'all.
ANNOUNCER: Lord Lobster is sailing
into the triad, opening soon
on Route 311 with The Mariner's Platter.
Succulent shrimp, mouthwatering lobster,
and the biscuits you cannot resist.
(indistinct chatter)
So next time you're on Highway 311,
hit the gas and sail on past Greenpoint
to Exit 19, future home of Lord Lobster
and Ye Olde Shoppes at the Bypass.
It's the end times, my babies!
No one can stop the four seahorsemen of the Apocalobster!
- Randy! - That's enough, Randy!
Come on, don't take it out on Randy.
Okay, people, this is not over yet.
'Cause you know what I didn't see in that dumb,
stupid, glitzy Lord Lobster commercial?
People, and Greenpoint's got the best people there is.
Didn't you see that commercial?
My phone bill's due soon!
Well, what if we made our own commercial,
showing all the‐the sweet down‐home faces
at Greenpoint's favorite seafood restaurant,
where the menu comes straight out of Louise's family recipes
and‐and 60 years of tradition!
(indistinct chatter)
If we did a commercial, we could show those corporate butts
- our homegrown southern charm! - (cheering and applause)
That's a great idea, Jenny.
Directing a commercial's a big job.
You need somebody who knows the restaurant, the food,
the people like the back of her hand.
Ooh, doo‐doo.
But mostly you need someone
who's not wandering around town in her pajamas.
- Yeah, Jenny can do it! - (cheering and applause)
What?! Oh, no, no.
We should definitely hire a professional for this.
Greenpoint can't afford a professional.
We technically don't even have a police force right now.
We rely on citizen's arrests.
- Oh, what? - Never mind, forget I said that.
But there is just enough money left in the till
for you to make the commercial.
I'm not a gambling man, but I say we put
all the town's remaining money on Jenny!
ALL (chanting): Jenny! Jenny! Jenny! Jenny!
Jenny, Jenny, don't worry, I'll help.
I got you, girl.
ALL (chanting): Jenny! Jenny! Jenny!
Okay, is this anything?
Where you're at the Last Supper, you're home.
Or is that boring?
(gasps) Why are you guys filming me?
As a documentarian, I cannot pass this up.
I want to be the next Ken Burns.
She's even thinking about rocking his bowl cut.
Well, hello, Madame Director.
You ready to do this?
Wayne, what did you get me into?
Jenny, I know this is stressful,
but I'm gonna help you out by using my connections
at the Greenpoint Community Theater.
Oh, my Lord, just please don't say
community theater legend Ian David Cole.
A formal offer was already made and accepted via text.
And in the community theater world,
that is contractually binding.
Yeah, but isn't he going through a terrible divorce?
The people in the commercial have to seem happy and normal.
Don't worry, he's gonna do what all pros do‐‐
channel his marital despair
into the best performance of his life.
Lucky for you, we put our heads together
and came up with the perfect Last Supper commercial.
Now, here's what I'm thinking.
Open on Main Street, cut to
Ian David Cole, Flavor Sheriff of Greenpoint.
Hunting down public enemy number one:
- (stomach growls) - empty bellies.
Hmm.
And that's where these two lovable idiots
come in... and as per usual,
they are up to no good.
Yep, they're the Flavor Bandits.
(screaming, clamoring)
Curse you, flavor bandits!
They stole our food!
My baby is wasting away!
Don't worry, ma'am.
I'm here to save the day.
WAYNE: Star‐wipe to glamor shots
of the Last Supper's delicious dinner entrees.
Bullwhip crack to... (imitates whip crack)
the sidewalk of hungry patrons.
Then Ian David Cole looks directly
into the camera and says...
You just witnessed the good, the bad, and the yummy.
Yippie ka‐ya‐yum!
The Last Supper Seafood.
Fade to flavor.
The end.
Can a commercial pitch win an Oscar?
Oh, my God, I want to be shot in the mouth with a shrimp.
Everybody just get the hell out of here.
Now, that's directing.
JESUS: Ready for the big shoot, Jenny?
Commercials can be pretty complicated.
Remember those Whassup guys?
Whassup!
That commercial took 45 days to shoot.
Okay, yesterday, I was a nervous wreck,
but I stayed up all night and I got it all planned out perfect.
We start with Louise, then Brenda, then some food stuff,
interview a few sweet‐faced, loyal customers
and... that's a wrap, end of day.
Yay, Jenny. High kick, high kick!
And third high kick, time permitting.
- I totally got this. - (engine revving)
Time to shoot a commercial, my babies!
Oh, what?
(bell rings)
It's a carnival atmosphere, babies!
We're all gonna be in the commercial!
Wait, what?
Oh, thank God, Mayor Webb.
You got to help me get everyone out of here.
This is just too much chaos for a simple little shoot.
Yeah, can you believe they all think they're gonna get cast?
We've got that covered, right, Jenny?
No commercial's complete without a ditty on my lute.
♪ Gather 'round yon children, let me tell you a tale... ♪
Oh, well, hang on a sec.
Oh, good Lord, keep calm, Jenny.
You got this.
VIOLET: Or does she?
Will Jenny Hart be able to fit
each and every townsperson
in the commercial, thereby ruining it?
Or will she coldly turn them all away,
inviting their permanent hatred?
- Violet! - Jenny, look at this!
- Put me in the commercial! - Look what I can do!
Hey y'all.
Ugh, how do I say this?
You're all so wonderful and so talented.
But I‐I just don't think we're gonna be able to get
everyone in this commercial.
- Oh, no! - (crowd booing, clamoring)
Is what I would have said if I was s‐some kind of big jerk.
(chuckles) But I'm not, so just sit tight,
and I'll get to y'all as soon as possible.
- (crowd cheering, applauding) - I'm‐a be famous, y'all!
Okay, so here we go.
Let's get this started.
Can y'all believe all these whack‐a‐doos?
(gasps) No, Mother, not the catsuit.
Absolutely not.
I want you to look like you.
If you think you're upset, at least you're not us,
who had to "help her pour herself into this."
I think she looks amazing.
Mother, what are you doing here?
I am just here to help you save
♪ The Last Supper Seafood ♪
♪ Where friends and fish ♪
♪ Unite. ♪
I got good news and bad news.
Bad news: I went to Ian David Cole's house to pick him
at the time we agreed upon, and he was not there.
That's fine. I'm actually relieved.
Good news: he has been located.
He's currently on his way
to the top of the water tower.
Please do not bring a suicidal man here.
I am 100% sure he is not suicidal.
He's just up there doing some vocal warm‐ups
while he gets a bird's‐eye view of the town he's about to save.
- Heading to the water tower. - Wayne, no, no, wait!
- (groans) - Doo, doo‐doo‐doo, I'm ready, Jenny.
First shot of the day‐‐ let's do this.
Okay, so, Louise, you're just gonna walk up
to the salad bar and say, "Welcome to the Last Supper.
When you're at the Last Supper, you're home."
Jenny, this is my restaurant.
I think I know what to say about it.
Doo, doo‐doo‐doo!
Welcome to the Last Supper,
where we have a nice‐size parking lot
that accommodates everyone, but if you do park
in the handicapped spot without a placard, you will be towed.
Okay. L‐Let's try again and just make sure we get the line,
"At the Last Supper, you're home."
LOUISE: Well, Jenny,
the problem with saying "you're home"
is that we had those nasty squatters in the parking lot,
who actually did make this their home
until I had to get the courts involved.
Okay, fine, let's just go again.
Welcome to the Last Supper,
where if you are a squatter, know this:
I have got Ricky's Towing on speed dial.
Ricky's Towing is the absolute best in Greenpoint, y'all.
Cut. Okay, Louise, uh, you didn't say anything
about your food, and then you immediately started doing
a commercial for another business.
We got to keep it on the Last Supper.
But we're never gonna be able to save Greenpoint
with parking lots teeming with nasty squatters.
So don't tell me what to say, Jenny.
- You've changed. - BRENDA: Jenny!
(shouts, grunts) Let's do this.
Brenda, what the hell happened to you?
- My God. - Where do you want me?
Well, you were gonna be my star waitress,
but now you're upsetting to look at.
What in the hell happened?
I wanted to get a suntan for the commercial,
so I laid out in my satellite dish
and used a full‐length mirror to make sure
the sun hit all my nooks and crannies.
And you were wearing 2010 New Year's Eve sunglasses?
You got it, Nancy Drew.
You know what? I'm gonna put you in the back.
Jenny, this is my lifelong dream.
Ever since I saw Sally Field in those Boniva commercials.
Please.
But aren't you in excruciating pain?
Not for long. (laughs)
I just took six Tylenol PMs,
so I'm gonna be in Power Mode before you know it.
Brenda, that is not what PM stands for.
(sighs) You know what? Just... Okay.
Before you pass out, can you move the hostess stand
into Louise's office
and then go cool off in the walk‐in for a while?
On it! (shouts)
My skin's burnt turgid. (groans)
Deep breaths. Okay, deep breaths.
Jenny, you got this.
The pressure is mounting as hometown turns into crazy town.
Greenpoint is pushing her to her breaking point.
Violet. I swear, I will spank you.
You better splice that out.
- I'm afraid I can't. - (groans)
- (door opens, chimes) - Ian David Cole update:
more good news, bad news.
I'll start with the bad so we can end on a high note.
The bad news is it was a suicide attempt.
But the good news is
- he failed! - (door opens, chimes)
- Oh, no. - Well, look
who just waltzed in here, all high and mighty in her tuck.
- Mother, it's tux. - Well, yeah, when it's more than one.
Jenny, I know the plural form of tuck, y'all.
Ugh, look at her.
Who even owns a lady "tuckeedo" anymore?
Did you just say "tuckeedo"?
Is that really how you think it's pronounced?
And please do not pick a fight with Crystalynn.
Not today. We do not have time.
(vocalizing)
Let's go, girls.
Well, let's not. Didn't say anything.
- Gold. - Oscar gold.
Okay, Mother, all you have to do
is come out of the stall and say,
"With facilities so clean..."
and then Crystalynn, you come out and say,
"I could eat off the floor."
Well, it is more likely that Betty
would eat off a bathroom floor, so she should say that line.
- I'm not saying that line. - Fine.
I'll do it, 'cause I'm a pro.
Whatever. Please, let's just get through this.
With facilities so clean...
- Betty eats off bathroom floors. - Oh, what in the hell?
Okay, stop. That wasn't... (groans)
Here I am, coming out of this clean bathroom.
Just visiting this crazy catsuit lady
- who lives in here. - (Jenny groans)
Here I am, coming out of this clean...
Help. The elderly lady next door pooped her tuck.
- So tacky. - You ho bag.
Ha, ha, great job.
- Aw. Thank you. - So sweet.
(grunting): We've got friendly...
service with a smile... (shouts)
Dang it. Every time I move, I feel the fabric on my skin.
Please, Jenny, for the love of God,
let me take my top off.
Brenda, no. And also, thank you for ruining this shot.
Sorry, Jenny.
- Why are all my actors complete nightmares? - Jenny. Jenny.
Oh, Lord. No more good news, bad news, Wayne.
Nope, this time we're talking good news, great news.
Presenting The Flavor Sheriff,
as portrayed by community theatre's Ian David Cole!
(horse whinnies)
(slurring): In case you were wondering
if my bitch wife finally left me,
the answer is yes.
Oh, he's actor drunk.
And he's double‐parked, so that's a tow.
Roll camera. Action me.
Stop right there, partner!
There's no room in this town
- for empty bellies. - (all gasping)
Pew! Pew!
(screaming, gasping)
Oh, my God. Okay, why did you say "pew, pew"
if it's a real gun?
Sorry, I thought this was my ex‐wife's house.
And blackout.
(exclaims)
‐(shouts) ‐(clattering)
JENNY: Okay, great.
Yeah, thanks, Ian. Wayne, he's fired.
- Get him out of here. - Oh, come on.
- That was only the first take. - What is the holdup?
My girls stretched two hours ago.
They're gonna have to stretch again.
My adult sons are getting hungry.
(both grunting)
♪ The Cobbler and the Blacksmith set... ♪
- No. - (indistinct chatter)
- What the hell? - (both grunting)
‐(wailing) ‐Okay.
Well, let's take a fiver.
I'm going to go do a thing.
And I will be right back.
(shouts) I'm trying to help these people
and save this town, and for what?
They're just a bunch of butts!
When this town does die, I hope they change the name
from Greenpoint to Buttpoint.
Population: butts.
‐Louise is a big old butt, ‐(gasps)
Mother's catsuit's a big old butt.
Mayor Webb, I'm gonna take that lute and spank your butt.
Ian David Butt.
And P. S., thank you, Wayne,
for butting in with your big old butt.
And Brenda's burnt‐ass calendar face is a big old butt.
‐(grunts) ‐Bunch of idiot butts.
Ugh, every last one of those butts.
Okay. (exhales)
Jenny, pull it together. Butt, butt.
(blabbers)
(blabbering over P. A. system)
‐(door opens) ‐Okay.
So, let's get back to it.
What?
Mom, the mic was on.
Oh... no...
♪ ♪
I quit.
Aah!
VIOLET: How are you?
- Mom? - Not great.
I buckled under the pressure.
No, but it's not all on me.
I mean, I... this commercial was supposed to be about
a family‐owned restaurant in a great little town
filled with sweet little people,
and everyone showed up and acted like a bunch of little freaks.
Mom, I want you to watch this.
I hope this commercial works,
'cause I really love Greenpoint.
There's a reason I moved here after grad school.
Oh, I've never lived anywhere else nor would I want to.
Yeah, Greenpoint sure is a beautiful town.
(sighs) Oh, look, the dogwoods are coming in.
(birds chirping)
I know every Greenpointer's deepest, darkest secret,
- and I still love these people. - Me, too.
The only negative thing I did hear one person say‐‐
and these are not my words‐‐
is "Betty Hart is a dogface troll."
Now, other than that one negative comment,
it's all positive here.
BETTY: You've got to love a town where everyone
accepts each other for who they are.
Especially poor old Crystalynn Poole,
who never learned to wipe properly.
Hey, Violet, are you filming me?
Okay, well, film this. Jenny freakin' rules.
Greenpoint freakin' rules.
And anyone who disagrees is a little bitch.
Aah!
Aw, Vi. What did I do?
MayKay Bueller here at the Greenpoint Library
where they're kicking off Fine Forgiveness Week.
Hey, what the heck do you think you're doing?
Just talk right into the mic right there, right there.
I have breaking news. I am a butt, y'all.
A big ol' butt.
(sighs) The whole town of Greenpoint showed up to help,
and I should have been thanking you, but instead,
I let all your quirks drive me crazy.
But those quirks are exactly what makes this town
so special. (sighs) I'm sorry I let us down.
I just hope you forgive me.
Thank you each and every person
of Greenpoint for being so special.
I'm really gonna miss this place.
I guess this time, David didn't beat Goliath.
- (heavenly music plays) - You sure about that?
(door opens, chimes)
Y'all came back.
Is Randy still gonna be in the commercial?
'Cause if I'm gonna blow fire out of my tooter,
there is some preparation involved.
Well, then, prep that tooter, Randy,
'cause we're all gonna be in this commercial.
Every last beautiful one of us.
(cheering)
Okay, places, y'all.
Everybody ready?
And... action.
When you're at the Last Supper...
ALL: You're home!
She pooped her tuck.
(Jenny shushes)
Everyone, here it is.
Doo, doo‐doo‐doo, I'm Louise Culp,
and welcome to the Last Supper Seafood.
A restaurant that does tow.
We've got friendly service with a smile.
- With facilities so clean... - JENNY: You could eat - off the floors.
LOUISE: And you might even see a local celebrity,
like Ian David Cole.
When you're at the Last Supper...
- ALL: You're home! - She poo...
LOUISE: The Last Supper Seafood in Greenpoint, North Carolina,
on South Main.
Two hour parking strictly enforced, no squatters.
(cheering)
Well, turns out Lord Lobster never did open that restaurant.
Not because of the commercial, of course‐‐
the commercial was pure crap‐‐
but because the CEO of Lord Lobster
turned out to be a pedophile.
So they had bigger fish to fry.
And as for me, well, I got more towns to save.
What? No.
‐(meows) ‐(horn honks musically)