01x03 - We Need $30

[bunniefuu]

- Morning. How much is a
bacon, egg, and cheese?

- It's six Comet
Bucks, but we're out.

- Are you saying "comic books"?

- No, Comet Bucks.
It's our money.

- What do you mean "our money"?
We're in the United States.

Shouldn't you use dollars?
- Oh, no.

Members don't handle dollars.

You hand those in when you join.

Anyway, sorry, all we
have is ketchup and limes.

- Is this town doing okay?

- No, we're starving kind of.

Works for me.

- Where do Comet
Bucks come from?

- From the Comet Bank.

- Well, who's in charge
of the Comet Bank?

- Uh, your dad.
- But he's dead.

- Right.

Oh, that explains it.

- That explains nothing.

I've been to Cuba
on vacation a bunch,

and I've seen "The Big
Short," like, seven times.

This has all the markers
of financial crisis.

- Well, in any case,
we're out of food.

- I'm a city girl.
I do money all day.

Don't worry, New Utopia.
I've got this on lox.

Or is it "lock"?

- Oh, boy.

- Mae Mae, I have some
serious questions here

about the local economy.

- Well, I have questions
about the Federal Reserve,

but they're not
taking my phone calls.

Okay.

Emmett, bring the white board!

Oh.

- Our money comes
from a few places...

Speechblasters classes, your
father's self-published books,

finding it on the ground,
and mostly from recruitment.

Back when your father was alive,

he inspired so many people
to join him on this journey.

- W-what does recruitment
have to do with ketchup?

- When new members join,

they donate all their
earthly possessions,

sort of like a tithe,

but instead of 10%, it's 100%,

in exchange for Comet Bucks.

- Which are, again?

Both: Credits toward
the trip on the comet

that brings us to the
other half of the universe,

where it is nice.

- Money's been a little tight
because we haven't brought in

anyone new since
your father passed,

but now that we have a
leader, we can recruit again.

- So you take people's money
for a trip to space heaven?

That's a scam, and I can't
be anywhere near a scam!

Fashionable city women who
mess with people's money

always get shamed via podcast,

and they would
absolutely destroy me.

- Petey St. Barts
was a bad girl,

a bad girl who took money badly,

and that was bad.

And everybody hate her now.

You have questions?

I have a question.
What's a podcast?

It's like radio but computer?

And then it's money?

Well, that's a scam.

- Okay, right now we
have an immediate issue,

which is people need to eat.

And I need to charge my phone.

If new members gave all
their money to my dad,

where is it now?

- Mm, ha. Hmm.

- Oh, my God.

Mae Mae's a level two
billion in Speechblasters.

She never says "um."
Something is wrong.

What's happening?

- Oh, her blood pressure gets
a little feisty sometimes.

She's been skimping
on her medication.

She has a prescription

at the Pharmacy Barrel
in Apple Bucket,

but it has a co-pay of $30.

- The cult doesn't
even have $30?

- I can give you 30 Comet Bucks.

- Oh, this place is in
worse shape than I thought.

- Well, all we have to
do is recruit one person

who's worth at least $30.
- No, I'm not recruiting.

I'm gonna earn $30 the
honest way... from an ATM.

Don't worry, Mae Mae.
You'll be okay soon.

- I'm twice as crazy
as I was this morning

but half as crazy
as I'll be tonight.

- Is it weird for you to
be outside of New Utopia?

- No, no, no, it's
not weird at all.

When I was still a
gung-h* cult person,

I would come here all the time
to recruit new cult members.

I'm not proud of it
because it's morally wrong,

but I was so good at
finding cult bait.

Like that woman over there...

She is one line away
from joining the cult.

Vitamin B12, huh? What
about vitamin B-happy?

- What, so you won't take a card

that isn't covered in mayo?

- That lady buying Tupperware...
I would just tell her,

wow, you're a master
compartmentalizer, aren't you?

Or that lady looking
at hammers...

Oh, I bet you always have to
be the strong one, don't you?

Come on, let me just do
one. I'm so good at it.

- No, I'm not tricking
people like my dad did.

I want to do things
the right way.

If this town is a company, I
want it to be a good company,

like Jessica Alba's diapers.

Ugh!

- Morning, scum.

I see you're picking
up some medication.

Is it for narcissism?

- Actually, Bandit, I'm
here on behalf of the health

of a very important
member of my community.

And because I'm not narcist,
I'm not gonna reveal who it is.

Excuse me, sweet old man,
your ATM machine is broken.

- Have we met somewhere?

- Ooh, I can say with 100%
certainty that we haven't.

No offense.

- Oh, then you must be
one of those New Utopians.

Now, you all are weird, correct?

I just love all
the stuff you do,

dancing around in
the fields and such.

Sometimes I peek.

Can I come visit?

I'm born and raised
in Apple Bucket,

but I've never crossed
the town border,

except for this one time

which I will describe in
great detail right now.

Here I go.
- No, thank you.

I just need you to fix that ATM.

It keeps saying
"funds not available."

- Well, usually when
the machine says

"funds not available,"

it means your funds
aren't available

on account of you
don't have any funds.

Sounds like you're
broke, buttercup.

- Broke? Would someone
who's broke grow up

never having to
think about money?

Wait here, buttercup.

Oh.

Yes, hello?

I'm afraid you have
me at a disadvantage.

You see, you know
who you called,

but I don't know who this is.

Mother, it's me.

Everything's fine and
actually less weird

than I thought it would be.

I'm calling because
I'm at the ATM

and I need some cash for a
rural charity initiative,

but no money will
come out for me.

- Let me guess.

You realized you eat too much
to subsist on Comet Bucks.

- What? How do you
know about Comet Bucks?

- Petey, I'm with my
accountability coach,

and he's going to tell
me what to say next.

- "Accountability coach"?

- I love you.

You're my daughter,

but I will not "finance"
your latest crisis.

- Well, if you love her
so much, you talk to her.

It finally happened.

My mom's accountability
coach cut me off.

- Aw.
- What's wrong?

You all out of caviar funds
for your dinner parties

at the Elders' Houses?

- What does any of that mean?

You're being such a jerk,

and I'm already
having a terrible day.

My mom cut me off,
Mae Mae's sick.

- She is? I got to go.

- What a weird and hot guy.

Ugh. How hard can
it be to get $30?

It's just $10 three times.

- That's just for
Mae Mae's medicine.

You're going to need
a lot more than $30

if you're going
to save this cult.

- I have an idea.

- This is going to
be my whole day.

- I don't know if
this is going to work.

We're in chunky-jewelry country.

- Listen, if there's anything
magazines have taught me,

it's how to sell
expensive things

by people looking at them.

Hey, you yokels, real dainty
New York gold for sale.

200 for stacking rings,

400 for this genuine
sparrow charm from Mejooji.

- Y'all aren't
those cult weirdos

from New Utopia, are you?
- No.

I'm a completely normal
person from New York City.

- So where's the jewelry?

- They're ultra-thin because
they're meant to be stacked.

I have 80 of them on
my finger right now.

- Sorry, honey, I'm
looking for something

with a little more
statement heft.

Don't feel bad.

She's what we used to
call "unrecruitable."

You should aim for someone
a little easier to hit,

like that guy.

- Oh, I'm bad.

- They taught us to approach
people eating near trash cans

because it scores highest
on the shame scale.

There go my thighs.

All we have to do
is get 30 frickin' dollars,

make Mae Mae's brain work again,

create a new type

of self-sustaining,
nontoxic capitalism,

and then make a bunch of money
to fix all the town's problems.

- That sounds complicated.
Just let me recruit one person.

- Oh.
- Just one.

It's really not that bad.

- No. I told you,
I don't want to rob

a bunch of sad, lonely,
vulnerable people.

It's not my brand.

- Is this about your brand,
or is it about us having food?

I'm truly just trying to follow.

- There's got to be
another non-harmful way

to make money at this fair.

Oh, Great Comet,

please watch over
this true believer

as she begins her journey
to the other side.

Grant her priority
boarding and extra legroom

and a window seat if
Comets have windows.

- Mom!

Y'all can get out of here!

Go on, get!

Are you okay, Mom?

- Who are you?
- Bandit, your son.

- Oh, I had a terrible dream
you abandoned your beliefs

and became a smug,
dissenting critic

of my beloved New Utopia.

- Yeah, Mom, that happened.

- Not to my Bandit.
He loves it here.

I'm so proud of you.

- I love the leader!
And the comet is coming!

And I can't wait to do
weird stuff to defend it!

- That's my son.

- Stop seeing me
as little Bandit.

I'm a big Bandit,

a big Bandit who only
wants to help his mama.

I finished milking your cow.

Money please.

- Mm, mm, mm.

- Hmm, cult bait.

You call
that eating butter?

- Push it, ladies.

- I'm not paying 50
bucks to ride a bike.

Petey, come on.

Wait, I
have another idea.

- Mama? Mama?

- My body is trying
to get to space.

This place is no longer pure.

And I have so many regrets.

- Don't give up, please.

I'm gonna get you out of
this cult but not that way!

Hang in there, Mama!
- I'm too far gone.

But you, you still
have a chance for love.

- What are you
raving about? Love?

- Go get the girl.

- What girl?
- The girl!

- The... the girl?

- Mmm.

Help me, I'm stuck
in this brown cement.

I am not narcist.

Don't worry, Mom.

I'm gonna get the girl. Just
hold on a little longer.

Ha, you blinked.

Sold for $400.

- If they'll pay that much
for a date with a cow,

imagine how much they'll
pay for a date with me.

- Mm.

- The next heifer for
sale is a human...

A date with Petey St. Barts.

She is a twenty-thirty-year-old
magazine writer from the city

who would rather not
say what she's doing

in these here parts.

Bidding starts at $500.

- Hmm. Don't look like
she can produce much wool.

- My niece needs a friend.

So $5?

- I hear $5. Do I
hear $6, $6, $6?

Do I hear $6?

- $1,000!

- Going once, going
twice, and sold...

A date with Petey St. Barts to
the hunk with the highest bid.

- Come on. We have to go.

- I can't believe you did
that. Where did you get $1,000?

- I don't have the money.
I was defending your honor.

- Wow, you're a liar,
and you're poor.

Thank you for k*lling Mae Mae,

because I was doing this
to pay for her medication.

- You were doing
this for my mom?

Mae Mae is your mom?

Both: This is a huge reveal.

- Oh.

Whoo-hoo!

Here I come, other
half of the universe.

Wow. Petey's father
wasn't lying.

This is nice.

Oh, yeah! Whoo-hoo!

- A-whoo!

I'm doing it!

I'm doing it!

Yeah! Ow!

Get away, Emmett.

- I was just trying
to give you water.

- I hate you, you little bug.

- God, I am glad you're finally
done humiliating yourself

and are ready to recruit
this guy like I told you to.

- I am not recruiting him.

I am going to beg him
for an IOU like an adult.

Well, lookee who's back.

My friend is sick,

and I don't have money
to pay for her meds.

I've never said
these words before,

but is there any way
you could spot me

and I'll pay you back later?

- Normally I wouldn't even
consider something like that,

but you really are
the spitting image

of my high-school
sweetheart, Tammy Overalls.

You know her?

I have never met an Overalls.

- She had the sharpest
elbows I've ever seen.

- About the IOU.

Sorry, no can do on the IOU.

I've been burned too many times.

But seeing you sure reminds me
of how much I miss my Tammy.

I should have married her
when I had the chance.

No offense to my current wife.

RIP. She died.

And my church just
fell into a sinkhole,

so now I have
nothing to worship.

- I don't even care
if it's made up.

I just want to
believe in something.

Also, I'd love to wave

my little thing
around in the woods...

Not in a creepy way.

- Cult bait?
- Ha, cult bait.

You've
always had to be the...

- Strong one.
How did you know?

- Come live in the
community of New Utopia.

Application fee is $30.

- Is $50 okay?
- Can I get that medication?

- Boy, can you?

Am I ever excited to
give up everything

for people who
actually care about me.

- I did it! I got
Mae Mae's pills!

What the dang hell, Emmett?

What'd I tell you

about putting your dirty
fingers in my mouth?

Ugh!
- Thank God you're okay.

You wouldn't believe how
hard it was to get $30.

Long story short...

I did need to recruit a
lonely old man to get it.

- We're back to recruiting?
Happy days are here again.

- No. It was the first
and last recruitment,

because now you're
not blood sick.

It's not like one recruit
is a viable economic system.

This was an emergency.

- Oh, am I barging in?

When would be a good time

for me to give y'all my
bank account information?

Did I mention I'm a Rockefeller?

Not one of the good
ones, but still...

- Oh, no...

- That's actually part
of the initiation.

There'll be a big ceremony
tonight at the Elders' Houses.

- Oh, a ceremony.

Oh, mmm, mmm. Mmm, mmm, mmm.

- No, Mae Mae, this is wrong.

- Petey, can I talk
to you for a second?

- Ouch!

Could we have picked a
less-cramped location?

- Oh, I understand
your moral position

against recruitment,

but a lot of people are
going to starve to death

if we don't take
this man's money.

Being a leader means
making tough decisions,

and this is one of them.

So what's it gonna be?

Okay.

What do you need me to do?

- Keep him occupied.
Wine him and dine him.

Make sure he gets
to the Elder Houses

in time for his
induction ceremony.

Aah!

- One limey Mary
and a ketcharita.

They are the same.

- Spicy.
- Gosh, it was so surprising

that you just had so much money.

Were you just going to
sit on it until you die?

- Nope, truth be told, I
was going to donate it all

to the charity fundraiser

to help a little girl get
a new set of eyeballs.

She has this condition

where every time she
sees a flash of light,

it ages them four years, and
she wants to be a model...

Poor thing.

- Oh, God. That's terrible.

- But forget her.

Just think of all
the wonderful ways

you'll be able to use my money.

- Like feeding
people not ketchup.

- Eliza, seriously,

he was going to use
that money for charity.

- Petey, I think it's time
for you to take our new friend

to his induction ceremony.

- Well, look at
me wearing a robe.

I feel like a person in a hotel.

- Listen, you can
be honest with me.

Are you sure you're ready
for something like this?

- Oh, yes, I've memorized
my routing number

and my account number
just as you asked.

And I know it has to
be really everything.

I had a trust fund set up for
children born without necks,

but I'll turn that over,
too... Don't you worry.

- No, stop telling me stuff.

- All right, you, time
for our auction date.

- "Auction date"?
- If it's okay with this guy.

- Oh, we're not dating.

I'm just giving her all my money

in exchange for immortality.

- Back to recruiting, huh?

Every time I think I can't
be more disappointed by you,

you surprise me.

Look, I don't want
to go back to recruiting

any more than you do.

This was not my
vision for the town.

I did this to save your mom.
- Fine.

Let's take the scenic route
to the Elders' Houses.

- Swish.

- Look, I have spent all
day trying to figure out

how to make money
to save this town

without taking
advantage of people,

and I'm all out of ideas.

- Typical city person.

Can't you just take a minute
to enjoy your surroundings?

Look around.

T-there's a deer...

Giving birth.

That there's a river...

giving birth.

That there's a star...

You guessed it, giving birth.

They sure don't make
nature like this in New York.

- Sometimes you just
got to clear your head

and get out into nature and
connect with something real...

Dirt, trees.

- Marble.

- What?
- Look.

This is where all
the money went.

- It's the Elders'
Houses, of course.

They designed them themselves.

- Mae Mae, you
neglected to tell me

that the Elders live in
giant marble palaces...

And not just any
marble, Carrara marble.

- I'm sure it's
not that expensive.

- Don't challenge a city girl

on her ability to recognize
different types of marble.

I would recognize my
mom's favorite countertops

from anywhere.

- Well, that's very neat, dear,

but let's get this
recruiting going.

- No, that won't be
necessary, Mae Mae.

Elders, get out here.

- Is the new inductee ready

for his most holy
bank transfer, hmm?

- No, we won't be doing that.

We're not stealing
the pharmacist's money

or those children's
eyes or necks,

because this isn't just a scam.

It's a pyramid scheme.

You guys took all the
money from new recruits

and used it to build these
houses made of floor.

But I'm going to
take the pyramid

and turn it upside down.

I'm going to sell your
houses.

- Sweetheart, you're
new around here,

so you don't understand.

We get nice stuff

as payment for our job of
being your dad's friends.

- Well, you're not my friends,

so you can just move
into one house together.

You guys cool with that?

- Well, we... we will do whatever
our greater leader decrees.

- So we're redistributing
the wealth... great!

It might not solve
everything long-term,

but it does mean we don't
have to eat ketchup anymore.

Pickle dogs for
everyone, on the houses.

- Hi, can I still
be in your cult?

I already threw out
all my underwear.

- Who told you to do that?
- Nobody.

- I mean, we were
about to fully rob you,

and I don't yet have a
great permanent solution

for not robbing people.

But if you want to stay, sure.

People need pills.

- Great.

Now that we're alone,

you'd tell me if you were
Tammy Overalls, right?

- I'm going to...

Sell your houses.

You can just move into
one house together.

You guys cool with that?

- We will do whatever
our great leader decrees.

This is gonna get crazy.

Five Elders, one house.

It's "Elder House."

- Talk all you want.

There's no time for
drama on the comet.

- I might look
sweet, but I'm 104.

- Life isn't all human
sacrifice and Metamucil.

But it should be.

- I believe rules were
made to be followed.

But a disobedient spirit
is meant to be broken.

- Call me a b*tch if you want.

Just don't call me a heretic.

- "Elder House."