01x04 - Father's Knee

[bunniefuu]

- Thanks for having
me over, ladies.

- I love that we can be friends

even though all of us
were married to your dad.

- Stop. So what should we do?

- Oh, a big weird sex pile?

- Um, no.
- You said "um."

That's 40 punishment points.

- We're not doing
punishment points, remember?

- Oh, darn.
- sh**t.

- We're in my cult now,

and in my cult, we
think for ourselves.

Have any of you ever
made a vision board?

I have a blank board

that I stare at
when I dissociate.

Is that that?
- No, a vision board

is a very serious
adult craft project

that women and short men do

in order to inspire themselves.

See, look. Here's
one I made in 2019.

- Oh...
- You got him.

- And I achieved that goal

simply by cutting up magazines.

- Magazines? We have those!

Ooh.

- "Father's Knee"...

My dad had a magazine?

- I love FK!

It's the only magazine
I've ever seen,

but it's also the best.

- "732 questions With
the Great Leader,"

"The Life-Changing Magic of
Signing Over Your Pension,"

"Commercials From My Childhood

That I Will Now
Describe to You"?

- Open on a young boy
with a runny nose.

His mother peers in.

She's busty, but concerned.

- Ah! What a bunch

of boomer nonsense.
This isn't what

magazine journalism is.

It's in-depth profiles that
reach across the aisle.

It's cutesy advertorials
for birth control

that changes your personality.

It's inspiring women

and threatening them with
the return of low-rise jeans.

- Women?

Like us?

- Exactly, Wife Beth.

You deserve a real magazine.

The whole town does,

and I'm gonna give it to you.

I'll show you all.
I'm a magazine girl!

- The magazine... it's back!

- My dad had a magazine,

and I was excited to fix it.

I couldn't wait to meet all
of the awesome magazine staff.

Oh, hi, Gene.

Do you work here?

- I do.
- Oh.

Great. What's your job?

- I keep tabs on people.

- Hmm...

Oh.

- There's that a*s.

Hey, girly.

Not sure if you
remember me... I'm Ella.

We used to be best friends

until I slept with your fiancé
and burned down your house.

'Memba?
- Ooh, messy.

- Yes, I remember.

Let me guess... you're here
because Brian dumped you,

and now you wanna
be friends again?

- No, it's not that.

So, we friend?

- No, Ella. Do not use
our secret language

where we leave out words.

We not friend.

I have a new best friend now,

and my own magazine.

- New best friend? But
can she even magazine?

'Cause I can magazine.

I can magazine right now.

I'll interview
Anna Marie Tendler

at Chuck E. Cheese.

- If you wanna help,

you start at

the bottom.

- No...

you don't mean...
- You can...

Go get toner.

- Oh, wow, the thing interns do.

Right, no probeys...

Abs... absolutely cannot wait.

- Oh.

- Hey, don't... Don't
you have an office?

- Real journalists work in bars.

- Excuse me,
Bandit, I'm working.

- So am I... hope you don't
mind I used the printer

at the trash magazine
you're bringing back.

- Ugh, so that's why
we're out of toner.

Look, I know my dad's
magazine was bad,

but I can do better.

- Wasn't bad... it was a front

to gather blackmail

on everyone in the cult

to keep them from leaving.

Mm-kay, well, I am not

doing that.
- Why do anything at all?

You're the only one
who wants it back,

you egomaniacal she-devil!

- Wait a minute.
You hate my guts.

You'd be the perfect subject

of my first big feature.

- Come again.
- It's gripping.

It's conflict.

It's the best way
of showing this cult

a healthy exchange of ideas

and proving you wrong.

I'm open to dissent.

I actually
love dissent.

I doubt that.

All I know is I got an
ailin' barn that needs me.

I can take my dad's

propaganda platform
and reclaim it

by giving a voice to
his biggest critic.

- Okay, but isn't it,
like, kind of convenient

that your dad's biggest critic

has the tightest pecs in town?

- Eliza, no,

absolutely not.

Female journalists have ethics.

This is not gonna be a repeat

of that 2011 Chris
Evans "GQ" article.

- Good.

What?

Hi, Gene.

I heard Petey was starting
the magazine back up,

and I thought I'd
come run the show,

like I did in the old days.

Don't mind me.

- Okay...

- Oh, my, this
brings back memories.

This place was everything
a magazine should be...

Desks, whiskey,

barbeque sauce, sex,

and well-oiled
blackmail machine.

- I've had impure thoughts

about a radish

that looks like a boob!

- And me?

I was a real piece of a*s.

Glory days...

- Ugh!

Look, you're right.
You're right.

I'm a nepotism baby

of psycho dictator, okay?

And I
hate that about myself.

But if you let me write
my feature about you,

we can heal this
place together...

Just like you healed
this cow house.

- You know it's called a barn.

- See? You're already

teaching me stuff.

Please...

I'll do anything
to get this story.

- Anything?

- Anything.

You help me fix this barn,

I'll help you with
your damn story.

Mm...

and this is the most touching

we'll do today.

Hmm...

- And we're on the record.

So Bandit, what I'm
really dying to know

is how did the cult hurt you?

- It didn't hurt just me.

High control groups
like your father's

hurt everyone.

- Ah, ooh...

There was a glare
off your tricep,

and it made me dizzy for a sec.

- Sorry about that.

Now, where were we?

- Now, a lot of so-called
deep programming experts

have been critiqued for
lack of scientific method.

- Ah.

- Oh, sorry, did I
do something sexy?

- It's fine. Just...
why don't you go

over there and hammer something?

- In your own words, how did
this personally affect you?

- There's no such
thing as my own words.

Words belong to everybody.

That's something you
wouldn't understand.

Can you pass me that nail?

- Sure.

- According to Lifton's

"Eight Criteria for
Thought Reform"...

- Oh, do you need this hammer?
- Yeah.

Just put it between my pecs.

When you're under the
spell of one person,

it makes your thoughts.

Not go good...

Why
can't our chemistry

just cool it for a second?

- Oh, am I too hot for you?

You are just like your dad.

You know, he banished

all the hunks in town

so he could be the hottest hunk.

- Whoa, he did that to you?

- I don't wanna talk about it.

This interview is over.

- No, it's not.

I don't even know
your favorite color.

Just give me something.

- Fine, you want an
ending to your big story?

I'm gonna use this barn
as a deprogramming center,

and you helped me build it.

You tricked
me into building

a barn that hates me?

- Well, time to hit the showers.

Oh.

Oh.

Yep.

- Petey, got your toner, b*tch.

Is Petey here?

- No.
- Great, first she makes me

do an intern job even though

I went to several years of NYU,

and then she ghosts me?

Also this town is the worst.

I couldn't find a single
overpriced lunch place.

- That's not lunch.

I still can't believe

Petey has a new BFF.

Like, does this tattoo
mean nothing to her?

- St. Ends...

what does that mean?

- It's my half of the
"best friends" tattoos

Petey and I got together.

If only there was a way
to learn something bad

about Petey's new bestie

so I can make her look bad

and reclaim best friend status.

- Hmm, I might be able to help.

- I can't believe
I built a barn,

and all I got was
a bunch of Bandit's

usual anti-cult talking points

filtered through his
childlike vocabulary.

Oh, he's so hot!

- What did you expect?
That's Bandit's whole thing.

- It must be why my
father banished him

along with all the other hunks.

- Wait, Bandit said
he was banished?

Huh, okay.
- What are you saying?

- Mm,

it's really not for me to say,

but you should find
out for yourself.

- Uh, of course, research.

I wonder if there's anything
in those blackmail folders.

- What? Why?

I thought your magazine
was no blackmail.

- No, but if research
can be used as blackmail,

blackmail can be
used as research...

And why not? I'm a reporter

and a b*stard.

This is gonna be the best
groundbreakingest article

since "Teen Vogue"
said "gaslight."

- Mm.

- She kept probing for
some sort of secret pain

or childhood trauma.

I gave her nothing.

- And you had every
right to set a boundary

with a journalist,

but I'm your therapist,

and I'm not sure I'm
getting to know you either.

- When you said you
"gave her nothing,"

was there something to give?

- You tell me. You're the PhD.

- You know I don't have a PhD.

This is your time, Bandit.

You can use it
however you want...

Mock my credentials,

call me a bullshit therapist...

But at some point, you're
going to have to open

up to someone.
We're on the cusp

of a breakthrough
here. I can feel it.

- She was checking me out.

- The journalist?

- Her name is Petey...

Hate to say it, but she
is obsessed with my body.

- That makes two of you.

I've noticed you place
a lot of importance

on your physical appearance.

- I thought you said you
weren't getting to know me.

- Come on, don't do that.

We're not here to
play tit for tat.

- Hmm,

I thought you said it's my time

and I can use it however I want.

- Bandit, you're impossible.

- Oh, B.

For Bandit!

This must be it.

- Bandit, we have determined

that based on your jawline,
overall proportions,

and smize factor that you are...

not hot enough to
warrant banishment!

Congratulations, you can stay!

- Wait, what?

I'll grow into my
features. I know it!

Please! Banish
me, Great Leader!

Banish me for being hot!

- Now, now, Bandit,
this is a good thing.

I need my gangly
good boy around here.

- Last call for hunks!

All hunks aboard!

- Wait up!

Ooh, messy.

Hello,
"Petey Magazine,"

fashion, style,
politics, and takes.

- Hey, "Petey Magazine,"

it's Bandit.

Listen, now that all that
stupid interview stuff

is out of the way, I was, uh,

thinking you could
come over for a drink,

and, I don't know, see if any
of that inadvertent sexy stuff

happens again.

- Hmm, let me just
check my calendar.

Whew, okay, he thinks
the interview is over.

What are the ethics here?

- What time?

Ah, yes, and the best night

of all the nights
at the magazine,

the night we were
about to kiss...

We were working late...

Real late.

- I would've saved her,

but the current was too strong.

- Oh.

I was just waiting
for my chance.

- You don't think them spying
on me has something to do

with Petey backtracking on
the blackmail thing, do you?

- Who cares? You're
clean... I assume.

- But who's that?

- She's a friend from New York.

- How do you know?

- Got a mean face,
dressed like a baby...

And earlier, today, she
was running around yelling,

"I'm from New York."

- I mean, look, if they're
trying to dig up dirt on me,

I know that I don't have
anything embarrassing

within the cult.
- But the cult stuff

would be embarrassing
to someone seeing it

from the outside...

Someone like Petey

or Petey's friend.

I've been in cults.

I know a thing or two.

- You're in a cult now.

Ah.

Right.

- She's so boring.

God, I'm starving.

I know you're a weird loner
who lives off power bars

and black coffee, but...

- You know, uh, we could, um,

take a break and
go get some salads.

- Oh, my God, yes!

I love salads!

Don't look.

- So what's the culty thing
you're worried about them

finding out?

- So, um, I kind of haven't

told Petey that I was one
of her dad's wives yet,

and I would imagine
it wouldn't be great

if they told her first.

- Yeah, probably not.

You know what they say...

A friend is just a stepmom

your dad hasn't met yet.

- Ugh, no.

I'm, uh...

surprised you invited me over.

- Oh, hell, it's
the least I could do

after I won the interview.

- Ugh, don't worry about it.

Now, you stonewalled me

about personal details earlier.

What if I said I just wanted
to get to know you better

as a journalist and maybe more?

- Well, my therapist did say

I needed to open up more.

- Therapist?

That's sophisticated.

- Yeah, it's a habit
I picked up in...

- New York City...

- How did you know?

- This permanent bruise.

That's a subway
turnstile bruise.

Did you live there after you
were banished from New Utopia?

- Aw, hell,

I probably shouldn't
tell you about this,

but what with the
interview being over

and my therapist
getting to me today,

New York City's where I
went to medical school.

- Wait, what? You're a doctor?

- No... Because I
fell off a ladder!

- It's okay. You
can talk to me.

- It was graduation day.

I spent four long years

learning all the doctor stuff

from brain to foot.

But I was work-study,

so it didn't matter how
many spleens I spliced.

I was always getting
asked to do menial labor,

and hell, if I
didn't know my way

around a ladder...

Ah. Or at least
I thought I did.

- Oh.
- When I came to,

I forgot everything I learned.

They sent me home...

A home I hadn't seen

since I left.

- Whoa, bonus secret...

- What do you mean
"bonus secret"?

What's the first secret?

- Nothing. So just
so it's clear,

you were banished
from New Utopia

for being handsome, and
you went to New York City,

where you hit your head
and forgot medical school?

Is that correct?
- It is.

But why are you recounting my
personal story all enunciated

and facts-like?

- I just have one last question.

You weren't actually
banished, were you?

I saw the tape... gotcha moment!

- Hey, how long
has that been on?

- Since you let your guard down.

- But... but... The
interview was over!

- Nuh-uh, I just got
to know you better

as a journalist...
And maybe more...

And now, everyone in town's

gonna get to know you better too

and that your
criticism of the cult

is because you were sad
that my dad didn't think

you were pretty enough.

- This is off-the-record.

- Oh, sweetie,

you have to say that
before you start crying.

Ooh, ah, okay.

I think I'm done.

Well? What do you think?

- I think you're in
love with Bandit.

- What? No.

Oh, my God.

This isn't journalism...

It's hot!

- Well, at least one decent
thing came out of today.

What do you think of
the barn, Hydrangea?

I think you're in love

with Petey.
- What?

Where'd you get that from?

Oh, no, my feelings!

They're all over this barn!

- Mm.

both: Oh, no!

- Now what's my article?

- Now what's my barn?

- I wanted to do an
exposé about Bandit,

not myself, and now
I have no story,

and I'm on a deadline...

Again.

- It's probably not safe to
reveal unprocessed trauma

to a journalist who's
desperate for a story,

but I gotta tell you something.

- Just say it fast so
I can't get an angle.

I was one
of your father's wives.

- Can you please say something?

- Yeah.

Um...

Did you ever

do my dad?

- Ew... no. We got married,

and he immediately died.

Phew.

That does help.

Blah. Okay.
- Good, okay.

- Okay.

- Okay.

- Now, if you will excuse me,

I have a magazine to publish.

- Okay.

- So Bernadette, tell me...

How was Holland?

- Is this cheering you up?

- It is. You're a
really good friend.

Wait, you're my friend.

So that means I made a friend,

which makes it okay that
Petey made a friend,

because friends
can have friends!

- Mae Mae. You okay?

- Oh, shh, shush.

It was the moment
I'd been waiting for.

Oh...

- Hey, hi,

can you clean the fridge?

It stinks.

Mercy, me, I wasn't
a young hottie.

I was a fridge cleaner.

- Aww.

- Hey, Petey,

I know we've been in
a big fight all day.

- I fully forgot you were here.

- But thanks to my
new friend, Gene,

I learned a lot...

Like that it's possible to get
friend-zoned by a sex doll.

- Did he propose?

Well, if not in Holland, when?

- But also, I learned
it was wrong of me

to burn down your house
and steal your fiancé.

Now you apologize.

Okay.

Me sorry for make baby

get tone-tone.

You my friend from before,

and now I different girl.

- You growth.

That's a strong.

You a stinky.

We a joke.

both: We friend.

The was that?

- Hi, New Utopia.

Welcome to the very first issue

of "Petey's Knee."

I wanted to revive this magazine

so I could make it better

than my father's.

But the only thing I needed

to make better was myself.

This magazine is a
work in progress,

but so am I,

and so is this town,

and so are my friendships,

and so is this sentence.

But that's okay.

It takes time to figure out

the right way to do things,

and it takes time to
make a new magazine.

I hope you learn a
little bit about me,

but also, I hope you learn

a little bit about yourselves.

- Wow.

That was worse than her daddy's.

Thank God I didn't learn
anything about myself.

- You dodged a b*llet.

Wow, I did

a really good job today.

I mean, did I maybe bend
my ethics a little bit?

Sure...

And am I still bending
them right now?

Absolurtly.

Every great journalist knows

that when a hunk shows
you his yum gutters,

you save two copies.

And that's journalism.