Previously on Velma…
- Guilty.
- Based on what?
I'm saving money
to hire a private investigator
to find my biological family.
Norville, guess what
Daphne gave me?
Is it mononucleosis? Because I saw
you two kiss last night.
Honestly, I think
what I really need is a friend.
Me too.
But also maybe
a friend who fu…
No. Let's just keep it simple
and try and be friends again.
Yeah, you're right.
Now, this may be hard to believe,
but I was never that popular.
I just never seemed to really fit in
with the other girls.
Weirdo.
Which was fine. I always took pride
in not fitting the mold.
And while you'd think a brush
with a serial k*ller
might have brought us
all together…
Well, it's official. Two weeks
without a m*rder, y'all.
…you'd have thought wrong.
- I hate hot girls.
- Except Daphne.
Help! Help!
I just found another dead girl k*lled
in exactly the same way as the others.
Well, great. A , dollar banner
down the drain.
Another dead girl?
So I got good news
and I got bad news.
The good news,
as this new girl was m*rder*d
while Fred Jones was in jail,
Fred is exonerated
and going free.
But we just turned his room
into an ice skating rink.
Now for the bad news.
The real m*rder*r
is still on the loose.
Now, are there
any more questions?
Yeah, I have one.
How come no one ever cared
this much about my missing mom?
Quiet!
Now, there's a good reason
we're taking this case more seriously
than the "missing mother"
of a mouthy girl.
We've had a breakthrough.
Now, after careful review
of all the evidence,
we have found a pattern.
Each of the victims is hot.
Oh my God! We're hot.
Hold on! Are you telling us
life is now even harder
for beautiful girls?
Gigi and her friends
already spent half their days
responding to compliments.
Thank you, Dad.
That's so nice.
Tragically, yes.
Our hot little baby.
Now, we don't have the money
to protect every student.
So instead we've decided
to rank the five hottest girls
at Crystal Cove High School,
and give them each
a personal police detail.
Fun, right?
We're calling it
the Crystal Cove Hope Initiative.
Yeah, acronyms.
Wait. So a couple of
middle aged white dudes
are gonna decide
which of us are hottest?
Okay. Well, if you have
a better idea
of how to make the list
maybe you should do it, Velma.
You want me to make the list?
I'd rather die.
Velma, please.
That's a very insensitive thing to say.
I mean, especially from a student
who is in no danger
from a hot girl m*rder*r.
Also, if you don't do it,
a bunch of other girls
will be m*rder*d, of course,
and with them, Crystal Cove's
tourism based economy.
Not the economy!
Fine. Though don't forget
that ranking hot girls
is exactly how the Trojan w*r
and Facebook started.
Velma, wait up.
On behalf
of hot girls everywhere,
thank you for agreeing
to make that list.
Friends, Velma.
We both just need
to be friends right now.
Especially because I finally
have enough money
to hire a detective
to find my birth parents.
Hello. I'm a detective.
Velma, you already have
too much on your plate.
And our relationship
is complicated enough as it is.
Is it though? Maybe we should
hug again to see. No, you're right.
But if you want to help,
take something off my plate,
make this hot girl list for me.
You mean the list of which
of my friends might get to live?
No thanks. One,
I hate making lists,
and two…
Oh, no, this is a list.
But I can't do it.
Next to you, every other girl looks
like a potato in a dress to me.
You guys talking
about the hot girl list?
Be careful, 'cause us b*tches
will do anything to get on it.
Anything.
Have fun with this. Bye.
Pick me, Velma.
Hey, Velma.
You need to finish that list.
It's bad enough girls might die,
but now my trumpet is dented.
I'm trying. This is the first
chance I've had to focus.
Thank God, hot girls
would rather be m*rder*d
than enter the band room.
And the hot girls are distracting
because you recently came out
and get too turned on to focus.
- Got it, copy.
- I didn't come out, I told you.
I like Daphne
but also find Fred attractive.
He has this deep,
inexplicable magnetism.
That's called being rich,
but go on.
But Daphne,
our personalities just click.
- I can't explain it.
- Mmm, I see.
But if you had to explain it,
so I, someone could possibly
study Daphne's personality
and emulate it, so you liked him
instead of her.
This is exactly
the problem with this list.
Men make everything about them
and what they want.
Not me. I'm an ally.
Now get back to my question.
Our whole lives,
girls are told by guys
there's a right way to be hot,
and I'm not it.
Guys even teach us to be ashamed
of our own bodies.
Every little kid knows
how to draw a penis,
but make a little kid draw a vag*na,
and what happens?
- You go to jail?
- Exactly.
But now, because of this list,
I have to validate everything I hate
about men's ideas of beauty norms
or girls will die.
And one of them might be Daphne.
Imagine all the things
you'd miss about her personality.
In this form, out loud, and go.
Okay, look, I know
my hottest list won't help you.
But if you can manage
to not get too horned up
from his magnetism, we do know a guy
who might be able to help.
Mom, stop!
Not in front of my g*ng.
Hey, Fred.
You look good after jail.
And you're way less
stabbed to death than I expected.
Thanks. You look…
Why am I here?
I need your help
ranking the five hottest girls
at Crystal Cove High.
Yeah, I don't know.
I did that for the science fair
last year and got suspended.
Your entry was called, "From Freud
to Jung: An exploration in horniness".
But it's fine. The police need the list
to keep hot girls safe.
So like charity work? Okay.
But if this doesn't help
restore my public image
as a good guy,
I'mma be pissed.
All right. Yes…
Yeah!
Daphne, Olive,
Gigi, Becca and Kimmy?
But Kimmy's so sweet.
Wait. Is it an inner beauty thing?
No, it's a huge-cans thing.
Now, anything else
I can do for you?
- Yeah, maybe read this.
- The Feminine Mystique.
No way, I love Mystique.
Is this about whether Jennifer Lawrence
is hotter than Rebecca Romijn?
Well, I'm excited to see
how they settled that
in under pages.
Look, kid, I know you wanna find
your biological parents,
but as my name makes clear,
I'm too short
and too high to be useful.
Moms, my door's locked.
Sorry, sweetie, we had no choice.
The serial k*ller is targeting
hot girls,
and you're almost
as hot as Donna.
But you can't just imprison
a totally innocent person.
What don't you get about cops?
Visitor!
Norville? What
are you doing here?
Well, with all the talk
about hotness,
I'm writing an article for the student
newspaper titled,
"Reasons someone might like
someone else's personality".
So what do Velmas…
I mean, people see in you?
We have a student newspaper?
Hey! Who just threw a rock
through my window?
Do you have any idea what a pain it is
to get out the vacuum?
- There's no one there.
- And this isn't a rock.
It's a geode
from the crystal mines,
The crystal mines?
That old tourist attraction that's now
a seagull toilet full of condoms?
Here's your dumb list
of hot girls.
Of course, if society exerted
half this effort
teaching girls not to be slaves
to the patriarchy,
we wouldn't have this problem
in the first place.
Boys don't like a know it all, Velma.
Wait. Oh my God, that's it.
Boys don't like a know it all.
If the serial k*ller
only wants hotties,
instead of spending
half our town budget
on police protection
for five smoke-shows,
why don't you just teach them
to be not hot like you, Velma?
Wait. So you're saying I get
to actually release these girls
from the shackles
of the male gaze?
Exactly.
Uggo lessons!
Hi, girls. Velma, your new
way-cooler friends are here.
We're not friends.
Because of Velma
our personal police details,
which we earned by being hot,
got downgraded to uggo lessons.
You know, maybe
a good place to start
would be not referring to what
we're doing as "uggo lessons".
I was thinking,
maybe goddess renewals.
I don't care what you call it.
We're not starting
until Daphne gets here.
Daphne isn't coming.
Her moms have her
in a full on Rapunzel sitch,
so she gets a pass.
Okay. But the thing is,
we kind of rely on Daphne
to tell us what to do.
She's like our queen bee,
and you're like a King Kong.
Well, interestingly enough,
a key component to being not hot
is not fitting in.
And the best way to not fit in
is to never just do
what other people tell you to do.
Like how King Kong
didn't listen to people,
so airplanes k*lled him?
No. You know what?
We need to start these
uggo lessons right now.
Daphne, your moms are gone,
but how are you gonna get out?
Damn!
Thank you for helping me find
who threw that geode
and for explaining geodes
in terms I can understand,
the hot-girls of rocks.
Daphne, look, I'm always up
for anything geode related,
know that,
but have you wondered
if this is the serial k*ller
trying to lure you out?
I have. And have you wondered
how grateful everyone would be
if we caught him,
including Velma?
What? Velma?
Why would I care
what Velma thinks?
The Feminine Mystique
is a total rip-off.
Not one mention
of a sexy shape-shifter.
This was more disappointing
than George Bernard Shaw's
Man and Superman.
I feel weird.
Nice.
Banging bod, unhooked bikini.
Hello!
What do we have here?
Sensible shoes,
forging her own identity,
regardless of what society expects.
She's just got this
kind of mystique.
Wait.
What have you done to me?
So we have one day to unlearn
a lifetime of internalized misogyny.
- I'm getting waxed at : .
- Then we have until : .
No, terrible, too flattering.
These might work.
Damn it! Now you look
hot and relatable,
like an athlete
who wears glasses.
Just put on the sleeping bag.
- How do we do our hair?
- Wet bun or cut it, baby.
So welcome to the Crystal Cove
Historical Society.
You can learn anything
about geodes
and the crystal mines here.
And time permitting, walk through
the hall of controllers.
So Crystal Cove's
famous crystal mines
were discovered
in the th century
by a prospector who thought
he'd found a gold mine
and was looking for a rock
with which to bash
his partner's brains in.
I'm rich!
But the crystal were worthless.
Then came the s,
and everything changed.
A nation betrayed by Vietnam
and endless guitar solos,
people abandoned
their old belief systems
in favor of literally anything else.
Enter the healing power
of crystals.
And Crystal Cove
became a boom town.
The mines themselves
became a tourist destination.
But by the s,
the crystal fad ended,
replaced by the aerobics fad
and the cocaine fad.
Crystal Cove never recovered.
The mines closed and the guy
running the display
got into sexual pottery.
Which is why I'm ending
the tour early.
Norville. I feel like
I've been here before
as a baby.
Is that crazy?
No, I vividly remember
breast feeding.
Though I did stop at five.
What if that geode
was thrown by my birth parents?
Maybe they're also trying
to find me
without my mom's finding out.
We have to go there.
Mayor Dave, Sheriff Cogburn,
I want you to remember this moment.
For far too long, we have told girls
that pain is beauty.
Well, today you will see these
painfully beautiful girls
transform from "damn" to "eh".
They are so hot,
Daddy likey.
Wait. You were supposed
to do the opposite.
- What the hell, Velma?
- Yeah. What the hell, girls?
Where's the hair
I wove onto your arms?
It's gone, Velma.
This wasn't an exercise
in deprogramming,
it's an exercise in slut-shaming.
No woman should
ever have to change who she is
or how she dresses
to not be m*rder*d.
But you're more
than your looks, Olive.
You can reverse your car without
even looking at the camera.
I know, Velma, just like I know
I love looking hot.
You think every girl
deep down is like you,
but you're wrong.
In fact, your definition of womanhood
is even more restrictive than ours.
We'll take our police details now,
and no uggos,
just beefcake.
Cat-fight.
Your definition of womanhood
is even more restrictive than ours.
Something's different
about you today.
Wait. You didn't try
an energy drink again, did you?
No. It's just that
after yesterday,
I have no clue
how to be a woman
in a way that doesn't judge
other women.
So you picked Monster.
How dare you call any woman
a monster, you monster?
I'm dressed like this
to show support
for all the beautiful ways
women express themselves.
Even the ones I think are stupid.
I know it's very upsetting that I have
to re-evaluate all my beliefs.
- Thank you for understanding.
- It's not that.
I'm having a baby.
But are you having a baby?
Or did society tell you
to have a baby?
Wait, you're really having
a baby. Call !
Wait, No. Call a cab.
Taxi births make the news.
I am calling, but we're trapped
in the carpool lane.
You have to get these cars to move
so an ambulance can get in.
Okay, I'll…
It's the hot-girls
police details! Yes!
Help, Sheriff Cogburn! Help!
Look out!
It's the serial k*ller!
And he's even crazier
than we thought!
What? No!
It's Velma! My dad's goomar
is having a baby.
A wittle guy?
No, you need to get these cars
out of here
so an ambulance can get in.
- .
All right, everybody. We got ourselves
an official tender moment.
A woman is experiencing
the sacred miracle of childbirth!
- Look at that!
- She's crowning.
Actually, I should
probably see this too,
always wondered how it worked.
Come on, fellas!
- It's show-and-tell time.
- Wait, no! Where are you going?
Olive, please help me.
If we can get these students
out of the way,
the ambulance
could drive up on the grass.
Sure, but no one's
moving, Velma.
A lady is giving birth
in front of school.
This is literally why
social media exists.
Stop! Or at least get
my ring light. It's in the trunk.
Then you'll just have to give them
something better to look at.
Wait! You're not thinking…
Yes, I need you to muster
all of your sexiness
and lure everyone away
with a sexy dance.
Like a shimmy into
a bouncy thing?
I'm not a dancer.
Just show me ass cheeks
going in different directions.
And what? You'll just watch
and silently judge us?
Pass. Our sexy dancing
is for ourselves.
And once to raise money for a dog
that needed hip surgery.
Fine. If you won't do it, I will.
Hey, everyone, look at me!
I'm sexy, I'm fun.
Ooh, yeah.
- I'm rolling on some gum.
- Did I accidentally tase her?
What's happening? Why isn't this
luring the crowd towards me?
Because if you're gonna be sexy,
you have to own it.
You look like a white influencer
trying to choreograph her own dance
instead of just stealing one.
I know. I'm trying, but I'm just
not comfortable owning it.
Wait, that's it.
That's the answer.
Just like how you're all women
who don't wanna own shorts
that cover your butt, I'm a woman
who doesn't wanna own it.
And one isn't better than the other.
Hold on. So you're saying,
while we're all juicy asses…
I'm all sass and glasses, baby.
Velma! Hurry up
and do something!
Yes, of course.
Girls, let's do a respective
yet equally valid dance.
Oh my God!
Norville, I've definitely
been here before.
I feel like all the answers
to my questions
about my parents are in there.
The bathrooms?
Wait. I mean in there.
Daphne, this is a bad idea.
It's too coincidental.
The serial k*ller could know
you're looking for your parents
and be manipulating you.
I would be
a really good serial k*ller.
Was that vocational test right?
I know it's risky, Norville,
but I have to try.
Finding my parents
is the only way to figure out
why I'm so different
from everyone.
This is gonna sound crazy,
but I love danger.
No. Not a cute one.
Apologize.
My moms have done everything
to teach me to be safe,
but I'm still
danger-prone Daphne.
Fighting, dealing dr*gs,
possibly walking
into a serial k*ller's trap.
Who are my biological parents,
and why am I like this?
- What's wrong?
- Everything.
I hate danger,
so I can't mimic your personality
to make Velma like me.
Yeah, that's what
I've been trying to do.
No.
Yep. And it would've
worked, too.
I'm inquisitive and athletic,
and I can fake being dumb
after carrying on a conversation
with you all day.
But I can't
make myself like danger.
I'm far too sane.
So if that's the thrill ride
to nowhere Velma's looking for
I'm wasting my time.
I'm sorry, Norville,
but trust me,
there's someone other than
Velma out there for you.
Yeah, sorry. I can't do this
dumb talk anymore.
- I'm gonna hop.
- What?
You can't just leave me here.
I'm not afraid of who's in there.
I'm just afraid
they'll think I'm a loser
who couldn't get friends
to come with them.
Yeah, well, there's no world
where I'm ever solving a mystery
in an abandoned amusement park.
So if you want a ride,
it's now or never.
Fine, I'm coming.
But you're only getting two stars.
Velma, I know we've had
our differences,
but you really saved the day.
And not just because
your janky nails
came in handy
for cutting the cord.
I was pretty great today
wasn't I?
Possibly the greatest
woman of all time.
Even better than that girl
with a ponytail that's on the quarter.
You know, after seeing you
take charge like that,
I really hope my little girl
grows up to be just like you.
- Thank you, Sophie.
- On the inside at least.
Nope, not for me.
Yes, for me.
Fred?
I think you meant to send this
to Daphne next door.
No, Velma, wait!
I'm here because I want you.
To be the before picture
in another diet pill scam?
I mean, at least
you're asking this time.
No, that book you gave me
opened my eyes
to your inner beauty.
Wait, really?
I've dreamt about this moment
one time on an airplane.
I was escorted off.
It's not important.
Hey, I'm as surprised
as you are,
but you know, what can I say?
That book broke my brain.
Let's make the best of this reverse
Beauty and the Beast nightmare.
Wait, what?
Anyway, wanna go
to Hand Stuff Point?
Fred, while I'm glad you've learned
to appreciate inner beauty…
Oh, yes.
Speak your mind, baby.
Right. Well, I also prefer
inner beauty.
And, yes, up until right now,
I found you irresistible.
But now I just find you gross.
What? How?
You know I'm rich, right?
Like, I once sat through
an entire opera rich.
Sorry, Fred,
but for what it's worth,
I am keeping the picture you sent me
for plane rides.
If Velma can be herself,
Gigi, so can you.
Hey, watch where you're going.
Valedictorians have
the right of way. Gigi?
Hi.
Are you talking about my IQ?
You tell me.