01x14 - I'm Okay, You're Really Weird

[bunniefuu]

I do solemnly swear that everything

I am about to tell you is true.

A spill of weirdness

from another dimension

turned my hometown into the center

of weirdness for the entire universe.

Don't believe me?

Just watch.

Generally speaking, my mom's okay.

I mean she follows a

mom rule book and makes

me eat my broccoli and

pick up my socks and stuff.

But she also does cool

things with computers

and she knocks before

she comes into my room.

So once in a while

when she gets carried

away with some new

trend, I try to humor her.

And let's be a mature, freer in

her goofball, which is the big deal.

I've been immature for years.

I didn't know Dr. Lloyd wrote men are

from Denmark, women are from France.

Until I read it, I had no

idea your father watching

sports was giving our

relationship room to grow.

Or that your mother bought all those

shoes to keep the romance in our marriage.

The detector offers a foolproof way

to locate, scratched out, must be alien.

Please.

Listen.

If you'll find a seat, we'll

get our goofballs rolling here.

What a golden opportunity.

Ladies, gentlemen

and fellow goofballs, it is

my childish pleasure

this time to introduce

the man who's turning North America into

one big big kindergartner, Dr. Ziggy Lloyd.

Fun.

Fun.

Fun.

Fun.

Fun.

Fun.

That's what life should be.

Forget mortgages.

Boring jobs.

House.

Work.

You and you owe it

to yourselves to enjoy

life, just like little kids and

animals do, so let's hear it now.

Enjoy.

Enjoy.

Let's face it, ladies and gentlemen,

the grown-up is so boring.

Boring.

Boring.

Ah, but now there's no.

Yes, there is.

Yes, there is.

Thanks to my revolutionary

new psycho smell

therapy, your inner

goofball can break free.

As a childish impulses.

According to Ziggy

Lloyd, grown-ups were

worry a lot less if they

were more like kids.

But at that moment, this

kid was worried plenty.

I admit I may have

disrupted things a little,

but it seemed to me the real issue

was that Ziggy Lloyd was an alien.

What were you thinking, Mitchell?

Mom, Dad, the alien detector

so the Dr. Lloyd is one of them.

Alien detector.

Actually, it's a, uh, metal detector.

Creative marketing.

Ah, that would explain it.

I have a metal plate in my head.

When I was small, I

fell from a great height.

Plate magnifies certain

high-frequency sounds.

Also picks up a country

western station in Tulsa.

Which one?

I am so sorry, Dr. Lloyd.

Mitchell is such an imaginative boy.

That he's always seeing aliens and robots.

They're all real.

Poor child.

But perhaps I can help.

Why don't you come to my

office tomorrow three o'clock?

Bring the family.

You know what they say?

It takes more than one nut.

To make a food cake?

Hahaha.

Hey.

Okay.

Maybe Ziggy Lloyd wasn't an alien.

But he was still pretty weird.

He wrote books telling

people to act like kids.

And then he said I was crazy for being one.

Mind you, an eerie.

Being called crazy can be a compliment.

Sheriff?

Huh.

Whoa!

Ugh.

Fagidock.

You got me feeling more

shook up all the time.

No.

Oh.

Next.

We can wait.

He's a bit nervous.

Oh.

Fight this way.

We've never really been

in a therapist's office before.

Good.

Good.

I want your minds to be blank slates.

Empty your heads completely.

That was easy.

Good.

Good.

Now, the sense of smell

is the direct pipeline, if

you will, to the deepest,

silliest part of the brain.

Breathing deeply.

Oof.

Oof.

Sorry.

It's my cold.

This is free or in a move ball.

Get a nice, comfy aroma.

I know what it is.

Cotton candy.

Yes, and post and

honey, and chocolate milk,

and animal crackers, and the coup de gras.

Warm, blanky.

Fresh from the dryer.

Oh.

Certainly.

I feel so Emmett, sugar.

Good.

All right.

Make your inhibitions go.

Oof.

And then all those

goofy feelings can erupt.

Bang!

To the surface.

My dad will not go.

Oof.

Oof.

I poof as well as the next man.

Better for that matter.

That's the spirit.

Good for you.

Good for you.

Let your inner goofball go free.

You are about to become very happy.

Can we fix Mitchell now?

Ah, yes.

Mitchell.

Why don't you tell us what

your parents have done to you?

They haven't done anything.

Oh, come on, Mitch.

We must have done something to mess you up.

What was that puppy I wanted

for Christmas when I was six?

Poor kid.

That's right.

That's right. Feel his pain.

Feel his pain.

What pain?

I'm allergic to puppies.

If I had one, I wouldn't.

Mitchell, don't interrupt.

Grow without feeling excellent.

I hope I've got the right number.

I'm trying to reach Dr. Ziggy Noy.

Ziggy, if this is you, he's your mother.

Never really do all of it.

Please!

I really think it's tough.

I did so.

Did.

Did so.

Did not.

You've got to stop what you're doing.

I know you're not.

Did not.

Did not.

For the next hour, Ziggy Lloyd's therapy

turned my nice normal family into nut bars.

Oh, yeah?

Ignite to stop!

So after it was all over, I sought out

a place of peace, calm, and Serenity.

Don't tell me you're

seeing Ziggy Lloyd too.

Don't have to.

Me and my inner goofball

are like that, my friend.

Oh, Mr. Crawford!

You took out Mr. Dudley.

I would like a triple fudge banana split,

sprinkled with chocolate

chips and chopped nuts,

and smeared all over with cookie batter.

What about your diet?

My inner child needs chocolate.

Lucky kid.

I suppose you know you're wearing pajamas.

Dr. Lloyd says I can do whatever I want.

See that banana split?

That's breakfast.

And it's 4.30 in the afternoon.

You have some money in those jammies.

Hmm, chocolate.

Hey boys!

Where are they in the old man now?

Oh, gee dad, I don't know what to say.

I'm going to get one too.

Do you think they come in pink, Eddie?

I don't know.

Our parents are like so far past

cool, they're like quintuple cool.

You know when your

mom and I were little kids,

we both wanted to be

motorcycle daredelles, you know?

Jump the Grand Canyon, that sort of thing.

You're right.

Put up one in front of the fireplace.

Yeah.

For some reason, we just

decided it was too impractical,

but Ziggy says it's never

too late to do it to really want.

You know, I don't mean to be

a wet blanket on the situation,

but are motorcycles considerably expensive?

Um, Mitchell?

Oh no!

Oh!

The fishwasher!

We gotta pull the plug!

Where's the plug?

I don't know!

Mom, Dad!

You have to turn on the water!

Look at this!

It's a red wild party!

Daddy!

Look, Mitchell!

Now!

Dad!

We have to turn on the water!

Do you relax, Mitch?

The leak has haunted the end of the world.

Get up!

Get up to the table!

The table's right there!

You're going up to the center side!

We need music!

You're sick!

Action!

Ziggy Lloyd had turned my perfectly

good family into irresponsible idiots,

and it was beginning to look

like I'd never get him back.

Hey, what happened to the chairs?

The couch?

The coffee table!

We threw all that foreign

stuff in the backyard.

Whoa!

What about breakfast?

Dailed pizza!

My favorite!

You want to go out with your mom

and me and kick some thunder?

Maybe even jump a bus?

You know that sounds

pretty tempting, but I think I'm

going to go see what

Stanley's having for breakfast.

Oh!

Hurry back!

Your father needs help

building a wall of fire!

After Stanley made

me breakfast, we started

looking up everything we

could find on Ziggy Lloyd.

We even tuned in the Tulsa

radio station the metal plate

and his head picked up to

see if I could tell us anything.

Yeah!

Here it is!

What?

Dr. Lloyd is presently researching

his next work, Sand Local, a

town set free, a pioneering study

of his new psychosmith therapy.

I wonder why he didn't publish this?

Wait!

Stop!

Check out that white b*tch!

Hey, listen to this!

The transformation of Sand

Local was a mystery to this day.

For some unknown reason,

the inhabitants stopped

working and turned their

town into a giant circus.

The original townspeople could

still be seen walking tightrope,

swallowing swords and

piling into stupid little cars.

You think Gary's turning into a circus?

More like a carnival side show.

Motorcycle daredevils

is the main attraction.

Aw, weren't that pretty?

Just like all the music

we play here at KBY Tulsa.

Got some messages for you folks

traveling our highways and byways?

The first ones to Dr. Ziggy

Lloyd, who's picking

us up on a metal plate

of carries in his head.

How's that for listener loyalty?

Ziggy, your mama needs to

talk to you real urgent luck.

Apparently you're up

to your old tricks again,

Buckaroo, and she

needs to set you straight.

Sleep in, sleep, close them on bright eyes.

Listen to your mama, dear.

I'd say those love-a-bye.

What I try to say, Doc, is

the more I use your spray.

The more I just want to move

back to Tupelo and drive a truck.

Interesting.

I mean, life was simple.

Me and mama walking that

green-green grass at home.

No suspicious mind, a lonely

night at the heartbreak hotel.

Dr. Lloyd?

I'm with the patient!

Well, you don't want to miss this, sir?

What is it?

Mr.

Taylor, he's jumping cars on his motorbike?

That's nice.

Well, you do drive a

midnight-gluem of Sadie's, don't you?

What's up, Doc?

Sessions over.

I have to go.

See?

Pick up, sweetie.

I know this is your number.

I'm sure of it.

It's your mother, Mabel.

Cheeks.

What you're doing is wrong.

You can't just go

around telling people that

spray up yours is freeing their

inner goofballs and all that is is water.

It's tough for a mother to say this,

but you're a snake-all salesman.

Sighy, it's your passion for

immaturity that's really changing them.

You have a great gift as a motivational

speaker, but you're using them as well.

Getting people to act like kids and turning

their towns into circuses and side-chills,

because that's what you love,

because the kid is just not right.

Call me, Sugar, 555-0176.

Hello?

Hello, Mrs. Lloyd.

My name is Mitchell Taylor.

I'm calling you about your son.

It's urgent.

Tell me where he is.

While I went to meet the

late train, Stanley went

down to the world of stuff

to keep Ziggy occupied.

Is there a seat there?

Oh.

Oh.

You were Mitchell.

I don't know, but they're Stanley.

Come on.

Again?

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

Not that I want to discourage

you from expressing

those rowdy, primitive

feelings on the contrary.

I want you to go even further!

Take some pictures from

my book while you're at it.

What about San Loco?

Tell us how you changed it into a circus.

I'm proud of that circus.

You turned all the townspeople

into lion tamers and clowns.

Ah!

Happy lion tamers.

They love the circus.

They gave up their entire life.

Don't let him spoil your fun.

Come on.

Come on.

Laugh.

Jump up and down.

Oh!

Oh!

Ziggy!

You naughty boy!

I know you were up to know good.

What am I going to do with you?

Oh, you can say it, Ziggy.

Mother!

It's not that difficult a word.

Whatever you've taken from these

people I want you to give it back.

They don't need to be irresponsible.

They're perfectly fine the way they are.

Look at you.

You're not even wearing a sweater.

Do you want to catch pneumonia?

Ziggy, you have to go up Sweet Pea.

You have to learn to

be a responsible adult.

Why do I?

They're there, Ziggy.

Maybe I baby do too

much after the accident.

You're a good boy, deep down.

You really think that people

who play all the time are better off?

I really do.

Yeah, please.

I'm really sorry about all this.

It's all my fault, really.

His father and I were tight broke walkers.

As soon as he started walking,

he'd head for that tight rope.

Then one day

Splat!

Oh, that wasn't your fault.

You tried to stop me.

But don't you see, Ziggy?

The circus is no good

place to raise a child.

We should have had regular

jobs like regular people.

Then you wouldn't have needed that

plate in your head.

Forgive me, sweetheart.

Your father and I

were too immature.

As for you people, don't

you feel a teeny bit silly?

You've thrown away your responsibility

just because my Ziggy writes a book.

Don't you realize you have jobs

and families for goodness' sakes?

Take my advice.

You've freed your inner goofballs.

Now it's time

to lock them up again.

I have to call the dishwasher a paraman.

And from now on, do

what you can to avoid

taking the advice of

some snake oil salesman

who's written a book

with a cute title or claims

they can change your

life with some smelly water.

Way to go, Mrs. Loy!

I can't help feeling you rat and Ziggy out.

I'm really sorry I wasn't there

to catch you when you

fell on your hand.

It's okay, my mother.

It's been a rough journey,

but I think I'm over it.

Who's that?

Oh, my mother!

You didn't need to be a

brain surgeon or even a tree

surgeon to see that Ziggy

had problems with his mom.

And I felt kind of funny telling on him.

But in the end, she helped

keep you from turning

truly weird, if such

a thing is possible.

Stop thinking into what your mother

tells you by Ziggy Lloyd Matilda Lloyd.

Also known as

You still think I shouldn't

have told on Ziggy?

Well, the kids don't tell

mom code is a sacred trust.

Did you want to join the circus that bad?

Wow