Obviously, I'd love to work for you,
and I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.
I... I feel good about it. I hope I didn't do too much talking.
No, you were great.
You were great. [giggles]
-I hope to hear from you soon. -We'll be in touch.
Really nice meeting you.
Nice to meet you as well.
Okay.
[door clicks]
Oh!
Looks like you push.
Oh, it does both.
-What? -It does both.
I was here yesterday, and it actually goes both ways.
Oh, okay.
Okay, see you.
[menacing music playing]
[creaking]
[grinding]
[creaking continuing]
[loud creaking]
[climactic music building]
[man] See?
Hope to hear from you soon.
["Big Flame (Is Gonna Break My Heart In Two)" by Doris Wilson playing]
Have you been the victim of unfair treatment by a business or a corporation?
Has this ever happened to you?
You bought a house, it was not disclosed to you
that there was a termite infestation in the walls and in the moldings,
so you have to take it upon yourself
to call your own termite extermination company,
but when the guys show up,
they immediately ask if they can use your bathroom,
then for over two hours, they take turns going in and out of there,
taking huge mud pies and over-flushing?
Then they go in there together,
and you hear a bunch of scrounging around,
and then you hear a bunch of yelling,
and one of them is standing in the bathroom doorway shouting at you
that his friend's foot's stuck in the toilet,
and he says, "Help him! You got to help him!"
And when you go in there to help him,
he just pulls it out easily and laughs 'cause his foot wasn't stuck.
It wasn't stuck at all, he was just faking it.
And then they get really serious and say, "It's Turbo time!"
And they both start running around the house as fast as they can
and jumping over the couches.
But when you try and jump in, they yell at you and they say,
"You're not part of the Turbo Team! Don't run!
You don't run with us! We're the ones who run!
Until you're part of this Turbo Team,
walk... slowly!"
So you go and lay down to be by yourself and read your art books,
but then the next day, you went into the bathroom,
and it looked like the hole in your toilet had shrunk.
"How could that be? There's no way they could have shrunk the toilet."
But then you saw in the trash
a receipt from Home Depot
for a toilet the exact same size as yours,
but with a joke hole that's just for farts!
They replaced your real toilet with a fart toilet,
and now you can't take a dump in your house
'cause your toilet can't suck 'em down,
and you feel sick to your stomach!
Has that ever happened to you?!
Call me right now, please.
["Blending Soul" by Soul Blenders playing]
[applause]
[crooning] ♪ Who will be the Baby of the Year? ♪
♪ Look at their rolls ♪
♪ Look at their folds ♪
♪ Look at their rummy, bummy tummies ♪
♪ Heads are round Bellies are squishy ♪
[in hard rock style] ♪ Look at their toes ♪
♪ Like so many curled canned shrimp ♪
[crooning] ♪ Are they ticklish? ♪
♪ Are they jigglish? ♪
♪ Can they be tricked? Can they be chucked? ♪
♪ Which ones will move? ♪
♪ Which ones will talk? ♪
♪ But more important Which ones can dance? ♪
♪ Oh, who will be Baby of the Year? ♪
[cheering and applause]
[host] Thank you.
Welcome back.
It's been a grueling three months,
but we've narrowed it down
-to three chubby little babies. -[applause]
From Salisbury, North Carolina, Michael Patrick Porkins.
[cheering and applause]
From Luverne, North Dakota,
little Taffy Lee Fubbins.
[applause]
And the bad boy of the competition, Bart Harley Jarvis.
-[hard rock music playing] -[audience booing]
Fuck you, Harley Jarvis!
-[booing] -Fuck you, Harley Jarvis!
Get her out! Goddamn it!
[clears throat]
Judges, do you need any more information to help with your decision?
I have firmly made up my mind.
I would like more information.
-I'm a wreck right now. -I understand.
This is a hard decision.
Let's hear once again from the babies' pediatrician.
[applause]
[clears throat]
Baby Porkins is 99th percentile
in weight and 10th percentile in height.
[host chuckles]
We got a certified chode on our hands.
Little tuna can.
Baby Fubbins is also 90th percentile in weight.
Ooh! Another chode.
Mr. Jarvis is one of the most aggressive babies I've ever met.
-[audience booing] -He has a massive underbite
and completely flat back of the head.
I hope you fucking die, Harley Jarvis!
Get... him... out of here!
I'm honestly done. I don't want to read anymore.
Yeah. Don't let it ruin your day, okay? You're still a great doctor.
All right, judges, do you need more time?
It's Porkins by a mile.
-[applause] -The button nose, the apple cheeks...
He's the best baby.
If Taffy Lee Fubbins isn't the Best Baby of the Year,
I'll kill myself on live TV.
Stop saying that.
All right, that... That's it.
I have to get this off my chest.
"Earlier today, when I was waiting to use the private bathroom,
I witnessed Michael Patrick Porkins' father
performing oral on the mystery judge of the competition."
[audience clamoring]
"I've been conflicted about whether to say anything,
because I feel like Michael Patrick Porkins
could win it even without the oral.
His father didn't need to do the oral."
And that is why this is so tough...
for me to tell about the oral.
Oh, man, that's a bummer.
Might fuck this whole thing up.
While the judges make their decision,
let's watch our In Memoriam segment.
Oh, no.
Calm down, they're old ones. They don't stay babies forever, idiot.
-[gentle acoustic music playing] -Fucking stupid asshole.
Little Denny Doo Dinkins,
92, respiratory failure.
Shirley Cratsworth Shane,
78, car crash.
In Memoriams don't usually include how they died.
Shut up.
Little Jeffy Jeremy,
96, throat slashed.
God.
-[glass shatters] -[woman screaming]
Someone get her! She's trying to get Jarvis!
All right, you know what? This is dumb. Dump it. Trash it. This one's garbage.
Tiny Dinky Daffy,
92, pancaked by drunk dump truck driver.
["Big Flame (Is Gonna Break My Heart In Two)" by Doris Wilson playing]
-[camera clicks] -Let me see it.
-Oh, yeah, that's good. That's great. -Thank you.
-Thank you. Is it cute? -Yeah, so cute.
-Send it to me. -Me too.
Yeah, okay. Sending now.
Okay.
Look what I just posted.
"Brunch with these two dumdums."
[woman 2] Oh, my gosh, so good.
Is this good? I said, "Sunday funday with these idiots."
-Yeah, that's good. That's great. So cute. -So cute.
Okay, okay, so cute. Look what I just posted.
"Eating crap with these sacks of shit.
If they died tomorrow, no one would shed a tear."
So cute?
Wait, what the hell?
Well, you called me a dumdum, and she called me an idiot, so...
Yeah, when you post a pic of yourself where you look really cute,
then you have to say something self-deprecating
so it doesn't look like you're just bragging.
Oh! Okay... got it.
-Sorry. -Yeah.
-[clears throat] All right, this is good. -Okay.
"Slapping down some pig shit
with these fat fucks, and I'm the fattest of them all.
If I died tomorrow, no one would shed a tear.
Load my fricking lard carcass into the mud.
No coffin, please, just wet, wet mud...
bae."
Jesus, Brenda...
-You called me a dumdum. -Right, it's like a term of endearment.
Okay. All right. I got you.
-Okay. -Okay.
"Gulping down some pig dicks with these bags of meat.
Sunday funday with these pig dicks.
Hope nobody gulps us."
So are we the pig dicks or the bags of meat?
Let me try another.
"Slurping down fish piss with these wet chodes.
Total tuna cans. Put a bullet in their fucking brains
and leave their wet bodies on the side of the road.
Boo caught me sleeping."
You're not sleeping.
-Okay, let me try another one. -Okay.
"Sitting here with two bona fide pieces of hog shit."
-No. -[woman 2] Basically the same thing.
"They're mad 'cause I won Best Hog at the hog shit snarfing contest,
but I'm not mad, 'cause we're all loads of beef,
sitting on the side of a highway
getting our butts sucked by flies."
-I tagged you both in that. -Why?
Why are you guys bullying me?
♪ Baby, baby, baby, baby, ba-ba-bay ♪
♪ Whoa, baby, baby, ba-ba-bay ♪
All right, I'm gonna...
-Maybe I'll go for this. -That could be a good one.
-Is this you? -Yeah.
Oh, my... This is perfect.
Babe, we were just talking about
how we needed a new salt and pepper shaker set. Remember this?
-Thank you. This is incredible. -[woman] I'm so glad you like it.
There's a gift receipt in case you want to get something that's...
Won't need it, 'cause this is perfect.
-Thank you. -Happy birthday.
[man] Thank you.
That one's mine. I forgot to put my name on it.
Cool, all right.
-Cool. -[gift giver] Yeah, it's a wreath.
The guy at the store said he has the same one.
He said it works great.
-Thank you so much, Lev. -Yeah, there's a gift receipt in there
if you want to exchange it for something that's more you.
Okay, cool. Thanks.
But you like it?
I like it, Lev.
Great.
Then give me back the receipt.
What?
Prove it.
You said you like it.
Give me back the gift receipt.
You don't need it anymore.
-Lev, he likes the gift. -Then he doesn't need the gift receipt.
I'm just gonna put all this stuff together
in the same pile over here, if that's cool?
Okay.
Ooh! I think I know who this is from.
If you love it as much as you say you do,
and as much as you have been saying...
then it shouldn't be a problem if I take the receipt back.
Okay.
Yeah.
Here you go.
Jesus.
-Glad you like it. Happy birthday. -Thanks.
Um, let... Let me open... Who...?
-Oh, that one's ours. -All right.
[laughs]
Are you serious? Firefighter pugs?
Honey, we got to put this up on our fridge.
This is incredible!
-We just thought it was cute. -And you'd be fine if I ate it?
-Huh? -The gift receipt.
You'd be fine if I ate it?
Why would you eat it?
You said you liked the gift.
So you wouldn't have any qualms
if I ate the gift receipt and it didn't exist anymore.
Right, Rick? Right, Melissa?
Uh... I don't have any qualms.
You can eat it if you like.
Awesome.
Down the hatch, bon appétit.
[Melissa] Should we open another gift?
Ye... Yes.
[chuckles] Yes.
Uh, okay, how about this one?
I think I know what's in this one.
Oh, whoa!
Hey! I just heard an interview of this guy!
This is so interesting. Thank you.
[Lev] I hate to do this,
but I'm afraid our gracious host didn't wipe properly.
What are you talking about?
When you went to the bathroom earlier to do the mud pie...
you must have used
too small of a slice of toilet paper when you wiped,
and you got mud pie on your hands,
and then you touched the receipt,
and then I ate the receipt,
-and now I'm sick off of your mud pie. -What the hell are you talking about?
You're probably sick 'cause you ate paper, you fricking psycho.
No, I eat paper all the time!
What I don't like to make a habit of doing
is eating mud pie!
Why do you even eat paper?! That doesn't even make sense!
Okay, you guys, calm down! This is insane!
There's a simple solution to this.
Jacob hasn't touched my gift receipt because he likes my gift.
So we just have someone else eat my gift receipt
-and see if they get sick. -But it can't be Jacob,
'cause he's gonna pretend he's not sick even if it's caked in pure shit.
[Melissa] I'll do it.
I'll eat the receipt to solve the problem.
And Jacob doesn't touch it!
[woman] That's right. And if Melissa gets sick,
then that means that paper makes you sick.
But if Melissa doesn't get sick,
then that means Lev ate the mud pie.
There is no mud pies, okay?
And I genuinely like the gifts.
Swear to fucking God?
Yes.
Then let my wife eat the fucking receipt.
[murmuring]
Oka... Okay.
I am now sanitizing my hands. I have not gone to the bathroom yet today.
I took a shower last night after I took a piss and shit.
Now... someone hand me the receipt.
Jacob, don't you get anywhere near that!
[Melissa inhales deeply]
-[Rick] How you doing, honey? -[Melissa] I feel...
fine.
-[partygoers gasp] -Paper doesn't make you sick on its own.
-He used too small a piece. -Lev's probably not even sick!
-He's probably faking it! -You son of a bitch!
[groans in pain]
[Rick] Jacob was lying about the mud pie.
And if he was lying about something as simple
as grabbing too small a slice,
that probably means he doesn't like the gift either.
-Exactly! -But you liked my gift, right, Jacob?
-Yes! -What about Rick and Melissa's?
You piece of shit!
-Rick! -Fuck!
Somebody call 911.
-Oh, my God. -Tell 'em to send an ambulance.
Tell 'em it's...
the ugly house on Kenmore.
The one where you can see the KFC sign through their front window.
♪ Happy birthday... ♪
-[yelling] No! -♪ ...to you--♪
-Don't let Jacob touch that! -[partygoers gasp]
Everybody, let's get out of here.
This place is covered head-to-toe in shit.
[footsteps]
[sighs]
[Lev] All you had to do...
was like the gift...
and not have a big old mud pie on the bottom of your butt.
It's not a big deal.
You had a big mud pie, you had too small of a slice,
then I ate the mud pie,
now my stomach's absolutely fucked.
[sighs]
Shouldn't have had such a sloppy mud pie.
Get off me, man.
Fine!
Nobody likes your house anyway.
[melancholic instrumental music playing]
You should know...
your wife kissed me on the cheek when I got here.
Now look at you...
all alone.
Everybody's going to party at my house.
Happy birthday, Jacob.
I just...
I was just trying not to use a ton of paper towel.
I just hope Lev's all right.
Okay, you guys, I've got Lev in my car, so just follow us.
Lev, what's your address?
[screams]
[instrumental music continuing]