-Hold all my-- Whoa!
Right now, a league of evil babysitters has a target
placed squarely on the back of Baby Love.
All I ask is for the support I need to crush this movement
and lead Baby Corp to victory.
I get that. I do.
But it's company policy.
You've worked too many days in a row, so you're required to take a day off.
Or as we call it in the HR department, a Vacay Day.
Trendy abbreviations. Another rung in the ladder to society's demise.
Totes.
Just pick your Vacay D and LMK ASAP to make it offish, 'kay?
Of course, you're no help. You probably love vacation days.
Oh, you bet I do. I'm saving mine up for a trip to Floaties Jamaica.
Shade-bathing in a thick layer of SPF 500, running panicked from the surf...
Wait, why can't I just save up my vacation days?
You can, but vacation days are different from mandatory Vacay Days,
not to be confused with personal days, sick days, brain rests, or me time.
The HR department is like a thesaurus for slacking off.
What's next? Summer Fridays? Meditation? Working from home?
You heard the baby. Rules are rules. You gotta take a Vacay Day.
Fine. I'll do it tomorrow.
Let me see.
Well, I'm not gonna miss Iggy's first haircut.
I meant I'll take my Vacay Day the next tomorrow.
Aw, hey.
What's our cutest thing for the delivery?
Sunglasses! Nothing more adorable than a baby who wants a grown-up to look cool.
Well, I'm not gonna miss Trike Delivery Baby's birthday party.
Tomorrow, I'm off. I swear.
What? Gotta get the perfect light for Bowtie Baby's 10-month photo shoot.
-Ah! I've been bamboozled! -Busted, m'kay.
For crying out loud, take a day off.
Tomorrow's mandatory fridge-cleaning day at the office. You won't miss a thing.
I'd kill to clean an office fridge right now.
Come on, team.
Let's hear some bold new ideas for me to shoot down
and improve upon using my superior business knowledge. Anyone?
You can't keep coming to work like this, Trevor.
Timmy T.
You writers "work from home." Perhaps you have some business challenge I could--
Nope, sorry, between the hours of 9 a.m. and whenever I make lunch,
I am inside an impenetrable creative cocoon.
You're eating cereal and watching medical show bloopers online.
-Dev, you prankster! -Don't pop my cocoon.
That cable package is a tantalizing offer, but what I'm offering you
is a day of private business coaching at an outrageous discount.
Can I count on your commitment? Marlene?
A telemarketer just hung up on me.
No, it's not funny, Trevor!
Tabitha, thank goodness you're home. I'm so unproductive!
Well, I'm glad you're home. I need some business advice.
Anything.
Yvette and I tried to start a scooter squad.
Yvette's got hers, but electric scooters are super expensive.
I need to figure out how to buy one. Are you not gonna help me?
Lesson's already started! You're late upstairs! Whoo! Business!
This is how we get your scooter.
-With a pen cap? -A valueless hunk of plastic, right?
It has value, or you wouldn't ask the question.
Wrong! I mean, yes. Hm, you're good.
This pen cap is a value seed, from which your scooter will grow.
How? Trading up. Is it easy?
-Again, you wouldn't have asked if-- -No!
But with hard work, business know-how, and a series of clever, calculated trades,
we will turn this pen cap into...
Sorry, the scooter website's still loading.
Dad, Are you hogging the Wi-Fi?
Who put a lizard in my scrubs?
Uh... No.
Uh, just imagine how cool it would have been if the scooter loaded.
Remember this! A key part of business is show business.
This is awesome.
A whole afternoon of business lessons from my mentor,
and Hot Purscoot can finally hit the pavement.
-It's the name of our scooter squad. -It's terrible.
Yeah. I kind of love it.
Lesson One, find a need.
Need gives an object value.
A pen cap may seem worthless, but find someone who desperately needs it,
their weakness becomes our gold.
The caricaturist.
No pen to draw with, no money. Boom, value.
Ah. But she knows that. See?
So of course, she'd never lose the cap.
Come on, Tabitha, you wanna walk everywhere like a common horse?
You're on the right track. Just keep looking.
-Struggling poets? -Pencil people.
Toddler art class?
You don't need caps when you paint with boogers. Uh, what about--?
Quick Break Quarry.
Over-stressed veterinary surgeons, bond traders,
all desperate for the release of a puzzle come break time.
They're so confident.
They'd never do a crossword in pencil. They're pen people.
When work calls, they'll drop a pen cap without a thought.
How many times, Pam? We sell seashells by the seashore.
Not buy seashells, sell the seashore. What is confusing?
If they have the same need, who do we trade with?
That would be Lesson Two,
who's most likely to have something of value to you?
"Charla Lazlo, Attorney at Law."
She's got her face on every bus stop and a purse as big as her face.
Full of treasure, I bet.
Look at you, master up-trader. Go get her.
Greetings, sir.
Dez? This was supposed to be a slow day. Shouldn't you clean the office fridge?
Well, there's been a sitch.
You know Smiling Samir?
Five percenter with a smile that could turn a lemon into a lolly? What?
Well, we met a new Uncuddleable this morning, Antonio.
Showed up at Samir's dad's cafe with a stack of references
from satisfied babysitting customers and an offer.
One sprightly, soothing walk, traipsing the out-of-doors,
free of charge as a sample of our impeccable service.
Quite a deal. Wouldn't you "agwee"?
They all "agweed."
Ha! Dopes just did our Baby Love work for us.
Taking Samir out to show off that smile in public?
Yeah, but here's the thing about Samir.
He's always smiling
because of the constant stimulation at his dad's cafe.
Get him someplace boring...
No jaunty picture books today.
We're off to sift through old town council meeting write-ups.
...and that smile drops into the wrinkly mug
of a disapproving British grandpa.
-Ugh.
No need to worry, Boss.
Tina's been running a multi-phase plan all morning to keep Samir smiling.
-Whoop.
Late for Phase Three. Enjoy your Vacay Day!
-Tina, what can I do to hel--? -Chillax. You're in Vacay Mode.
What company doesn't want its employees to work?
Why is the sun wearing sunglasses?
Nothing makes sense. Chillax yourself, gas ball!
What's wrong? She wouldn't trade?
Oh, no, I had Lazlo begging for that pen cap.
Traded for a travel bottle of fancy hand cream,
which I traded up to a basketball, and--
-I'm so embarrassed. -What for?
-You're doing great. -I was.
I got impatient thinking how far I was from an electric scooter,
and I'm pretty sure I just traded down for these.
Used hearing aids. Freshly used, judging by the wax.
Hey, that's a really nice trade.
Sorry, what? Could you talk down to me louder?
-Sorry. -I'm smart.
I should be good at this. What am I missing?
-An opponent. -What?
You're like me, kid. For us, business is a contact sport.
It's not just the win, it's crushing the competition to get that win.
You need the challenge. That pit fight on the trading floor.
You need me.
One-on-one trade-up-off?
Whoever trades up to an electric scooter first wins.
-Promise you won't go easy on me. -I've seen you in competition.
You promise not to go easy on me.
Okay. Let's make this interesting.
Loser has to untangle that box of random cords in the basement.
Deal.
You know what I like about smashing?
It answers life's most burning question, what's inside things?
Huh. I wonder what's inside this thing.
-Oh, you want to smash it? -Well, maybe if we traded for it.
I'm thinking for that bag of smushed grapes?
A white-breasted nuthatch, this time of year?
-Where? -Oh, I don't see it. I hear it.
Her call is haunting, like an old sea shanty sung by bird mermaids.
I don't hear a thing.
Yuck. Smushed grapes? Who'd wanna play with something gross and mushy?
You know what would really make those toes sing? Friction.
Oh, how I miss the sights and sounds of my home in old Paris.
Nice day for a picnic, eh?
Be happy to trade you my blanket. What you got in the pack?
Tessa, are those new designer booties? Ricardo Tooshay, classy.
Of course, if you had a pair of shiny binocs instead, you could--
Ouch. I am a clown. Ouch.
Hold that thought, Tess.
Boing. Ha, ha! Bop me again, I dare you. Rebound.
-Tina! What's--? -Chillax.
-You're in Vacay Mode. -You bloated ball of freeloading plasma!
Those are the fruits of your chillaxidaisical attitude.
I wanna change our trade. The Fidget Winkle.
Fidget Winkle, the goofiest toy on the market,
there, top of your toy pile.
Perfect.
Bingo.
Okay, uh, O-71.
-What? -What is she saying?
Speak up, you.
I should have traded the hearing aids here.
I could have gotten a whole car.
-I-22. -Speak up!
-O-72. -Hm...
-You. You. -Action's really heating up, folks.
Not you. And you.
Hello, senior sirs and mature ma'ams.
I've calculated the odds, and one of your cards is about to win.
But I have a special offer just for you select few.
-Sticky toffees? Those are contraband.
My daughter says they're too sticky for my chompers, but I can't resist.
This is a trade offer. A handful of toffees each for your bingo cards.
You want a slim chance of winning their prize,
or a guaranteed mouthful of sticky bliss?
-Toffees. -I'll take the candy.
Good luck, toffee girl.
I don't need luck. I have statistics.
-B-14. -Bingo!
And our youngest winner ever takes the grand prize.
A coupon.
This is a tree. There are over four kinds of trees in the world.
I don't know any of them.
That's another one. That's another one.
They're stopping to look at foliage again?
JJ, can we see Phase Six?
Not working, just saying hi. Oh, what's that? Antonio's right there.
Why don't we--? I mean, you just-- What?
Oh, you have missed so much. Let me catch you up.
Phase Three was off to a bang.
I missed a few steps in the Salty Dog Rag,
but I caught up eventually and won a medal.
Then, I found a dinosaur egg. And it turned into a real dino.
I named him Stegathan and vowed to raise him as my son.
Over time, we grew a deep and meaningful bond.
Stop. Obviously, none of that happened.
Yes, none of that.
Besides, we don't need to catch you up. You're on Vacay.
Don't worry about us. We're fine.
Yes. I am on Vacay.
And when Dez was being clown-bopped by an evil babysitter, that was fine.
It was. Phase Four, a totally planned bit of physical comedy to keep Samir giggling.
-Dez? -Clown bop!
-I don't get it. -That's stress talking.
Go enjoy your Vacay Day.
-Recharge, refresh. -What do you think I've been doing?
My industrious protégée Tabitha and I are engaged in a Trading Up competition,
which leads me to why I'm here, a Fidget Winkle!
I can't believe you didn't think of this. Keeps babies laughing for hours.
-That's the Winkle guarantee.
-His mushy hair. -His stupid feet.
His crazy old eyeballs.
Yes, well, that would be helpful,
if Samir's next stop wasn't baby yoga class.
Even better. We can slip it to him while--
Where no toys are allowed.
So we gotta get a laugh without props, hm?
No. Not we. Us. You go.
-Stop turning those brain wheels. -And it's a yoga class.
No! Stop! Teddy!
Tim! Oh, Tim!
Where's my brother who's allowing me
to live as a baby in his home which I appreciate?
I hear you two are having a Trading Up competition. Right on.
Oh, hi. I actually came to make a trade.
Tim, do you remember that old tape recorder--?
You mean my Fart Library?
A curated audio anthology of farts collected over many years?
Everything from the High Pitched Squeaker to the elusive Mom Car Fart?
Moms don't fart.
Wait. Do you just have that with you?
Usually. Also Tabitha was already asking to trade me for it.
I can't believe it.
Did you strike a deal with Pancake Burrito Vinny,
the morning drive DJ too?
Who?
Vinny's radio show survives on fart sounds.
And any good trader would know Vinny's got a unicycle collection,
which opens up the whole pedestrian vehicle trading sector.
Sharp move.
-Thanks. -But I'm getting that Fart Library.
From the '99 New Year's celebration, when Marsha Krinkle tooted on live TV?
-She pretended to ride a German Shepherd-- -All right.
Looks like you've got a choice to make. It's a trade-Up-off.
And I get to be the judge? So much power.
I hope it doesn't corrupt me. No. It won't. I'm strong.
Writing, an art form as old as paper.
The writer's brain is like a treasure map,
full of hidden gems, but also wrong turns and booby traps.
Mm. Yes, that is true.
Allow me to present the Fidget Winkle.
A toy, yes, designed for babies, but also a proven cure for writer's block.
I heard F. Scott Fitzgerald had one,
and let's just say, The Great Gatsby was The Just Okay Gatsby
before old F. Scott put one of these on his desk.
I'm sorry! It's just-- His hair. I can't-- Thank you for your consideration.
Inside this envelope lies a coupon.
Sorry. Coupon?
For a private serenade by local legend The Great Carpaccio.
Tabitha wins!
Yes! Rocketship to Scooterworld in three, two...
I'll wear my Great Carpaccio ascot. Or is it tacky to wear merch?
Carol, I need you!
Well-traded, but you have to give me that Fart Library.
You made me promise not to go easy on you. Vin, who's my favorite DJ?
No, it's you. Meet at the station to trade? What?
Free bonus lesson. Always do business in public.
No home court advantage.
Ask him to meet in the town square instead.
Actually, meet you in the town square? Cool. See you in five.
-Thanks, Dad's weird thing. -I really wouldn't kiss that.
-Hey, maybe Vinny's over this way. -Sure, maybe.
All right, babies, as we sit in Easy Pose,
let's just think about what we think when there's nothing to think about.
I know it's rude to ask, but what is up with that baby's face?
It keeps switching between adorable and a dumpster load of deli meat.
I propose a trade.
Give me one minute with the Fart Library in exchange for Winkle.
You can still trade with Vinny and get the Winkle, full keeps no tradebacks.
You were gonna take this competition seriously. That's a terrible trade.
Part of my master plan to beat you, details withheld but very real.
-Just please, the library. -Okay. See you in one minute.
-Ugh. You can actually taste the smells. -Show me that deep Forward Fold.
-That's adorable. -Isn't he? Look at that.
Samir, don't reward low comedy. Breaking wind is as natural as blinking.
I can smell that Baby Love soaring.
-Ugh. Smells awful. -No, that's Pip's dinosaur.
He's teething.
Don't tell him it's just an old egg. He's been so delighted.
Oh, hi. Aren't you all glad I didn't actually take a day off?
That laughing fit's gonna last for hours. Antonio's got no card left to play. What?
You're a natural with little ones.
I'm all a-blush.
I don't know if my skills are natural or the result
of the child development classes my babysitters' co-op is taking.
There are more babysitters like you out there?
Oh, we are many.
He has lots of cards to play.
Around Phase Seven, we realized we couldn't make Samir too happy
or that would happen.
In fairness, it's not my fault that I wasn't around to get that information.
It absolutely is. You think Vacay Days are there because we're lazy?
I pretty clearly do.
We need clear heads to keep us sharp. So we don't blow missions.
Like I just did.
-I wasn't gonna say it-- -Yes.
-We'll work damage control. You just-- -Chillax.
-What the cartoon sun said. -One minute.
-Cough it up. -All right.
But be warned, this contest has my full attention now.
You think losing a winkle and fart machine scares me? Ha!
I built a whole company in Chicago with--
Thank you so much.
-Tessa didn't even want that Winkle. -I just followed your lessons.
I found a need, and who was most likely to have what I wanted.
I overheard your conversation with JJ when testing my hearing aids.
There's been a sitch. You know Smiling Samir?
When you proposed a competition,
the fierce Trader-Upper inside of me came alive. Thanks for that.
I'd already found a need, your need to keep working.
You couldn't help butting into the mission, so I kept an eye on you.
I watched you trade for Tessa's Fidget Winkle.
But you didn't see what happened after you left.
-Oh, honey. Did you lose your Winkle?
-When Tina told me the next stop was a... -No-toys-allowed baby yoga class.
...I had to get in your head.
How would you make a baby laugh without a toy?
Only one answer to that.
Tabitha wins!
So then, it was just a matter of playing to Dad's rabid Carpaccio fandom
and turning up your desperation with a hot deal that didn't exist.
You made me promise not to go easy on you. Vin, who's my favorite DJ?
You ever think about how whales are just huge?
You offer me the Winkle I need, and bing, bang, scoot,
victory Tabitha.
I'd applaud but my hands are tingling because I'm just so proud.
Hey, I learned from the best.
I only wish you'd made it harder on me. That was honestly pretty easy.
Rubbing it in. Like a champ.
Pull that one. Or that one, or--
You know, this is a one-person job.
-I know. -I'm off for a scoot with Yvette.
-You want help when I come back? -Thanks, but take your time.
I like my defeats to sting bitterly, so I remember never to fail again.
I should be pretty quick. Yvette has to babysit.
-Yvette babysits? -She's in business with kids from school.
That's how she bought her scooter. Lucky.
She's got a business card. You'd be proud. Later, babies. Love you both.
Hot Purscoot has hit the streets.
Look out, city. You don't stand a chance against us.
Tabitha is scootering with the enemy.
Yes! The ultra-rare shocked baby ripper.
Fart Library, volume two, coming in hot!