03x02 - Strike Rat

[bunniefuu]

You know, I rarely wait on line

for things that don't have
some kind of frosting.

I know, but this is
supposed to be amazing.

It's David Blaine's
latest magic trick where

- he's just gonna k*ll himself.
- How is that magic?

I thought he wasn't supposed
to be a celebrity anymore.

Whoa. It says on "Deadline"

that Maggie Gyllenhaal just signed on

for the next sequel to "Hostel"...

"Clitorectomy: Third Time's the Harm."

That's a bummer. She's
supposed to be a feminist.

I expected more from her.

It's always sad when someone
sells out their own people.

Yeah. Like when Elton John
did that thing with Eminem.

And then they sang together.

Ugh! This line is not moving!

I know, and I have to
eat before my audition.

- What's it for again?
- I don't know. It's top secret.

The only thing I know
is it's for Amazon,

so I'm gonna bring a
blender I have to return.

Well, if you want, we can bail.

We can go to that new Cajun
Meatball Poke pop-up.

Ooh! Elton John's nickname for Eminem.

- [crowd shouting]
- Scab, scab!

- Oh, another line?
- No, that's a picket line.

- See, they have a Strike Rat.
- "Waiters deserve wages"?

I didn't know waiters had a union.

- I thought it was just SAG.
- Well, I'm not joining.

I can't afford to pay
any more stupid dues.

And those SAG screeners are pathetic.

Big deal... I get a free
copy of "Hacksaw Ridge,"

but I have to see a dentist in Paramus.

I guess we should find a
restaurant that's open.

Although... technically,
this restaurant is open.

And they could seat us right away.

Yeah, but if we go in there,
they're gonna boo us.

I've been booed four
times today already.

CROWD: Scab! Scab!

Scab, scab, scab!

Scabs are a sign of healing, dear.

Scab, scab, scab, scab!

[driving punk rock music]

♪♪

I just need you to sign
the nondisclosure forms,

then I'll give you the sides
and we can get started.

Why is Amazon being so secretive?

Every improviser I know has gone
out for "Mozart in the Jungle."

Oh, I am sure.

That show is real comedy.

Just so you know,

this project comes from a film director

who is arguably offensive to women.

- Eli Roth?
- Close. Jewish also.

But his v*olence against women
is more... dialogue-based

and exists more in his characters'

antiquated attitudes towards them.

Woody Allen is doing
another Amazon series?

Yes! It's called
"Manhattan Mini Storage,"

and this time we are sure
the Woodster's gonna

"get TV."

I can't, in good conscience,

audition for Woody Allen,

- as a woman, you know?
- Okay, yeah, sure, sure.

But can I just take a peek at the sides

- to see how bad they are?
- Can only show them to you

if you're auditioning.

Fine. I'll audition. Why not?

I'm not gonna get this part.
I never get any part.

Here you go. Let me know if you have

any trouble reading his handwriting.

He doesn't even use a typewriter?

He says gadgets and
doodads are passing fads

and hurt his flow.

[laughs] Okay. Got it. Of course.

All right. "Esther, white female",

over 16, unfuckable."

Any other specifics, or...

She's a cigarette girl. Uh,
here, you can use this prop.

- So it's another period piece?
- No.

Woody just thinks cigarette
girls still exist

and black people don't.

Whenever you're ready.

[loudly] "You'll have to speak up"

"over this loud rock and roll music...

"if you can call it music.

Oh, here, Mr. Yellnikoff,
let me light that for you."

Oh, sh*t! Oh, crap!

[patting shirt]

[exhales]

[inhales] I'm okay.

I don't care. Please go.

But not before you check off a reason

why you're returning this blender.

♪♪

It's time to update the cafe's website.

Our site is so out of
date, we still have pics

of when we served cereal at breakfast.

And Billy was still scruff-free thin.

Oh, Matthew, if only you'd
been Jeffrey Dahmer's type.

Priority for the site will be to
get new pictures of our food.

Well, I'm happy to offer my services.

Your services as a parody of
a pass-around party bottom

will not be helpful.

Oh, yaaaas!

I always love the view from
deep inside Miss Lola's shade.

- It's like punching pudding.
- Matthew, how can you help?

Well, my nickname "Shutter Eye"

isn't exclusively because of my anus.

I'm a talented food photographer!

Back in Catfish Holler,

I developed the cutest
little eating disorder.

I would take pictures of
food instead of eating it.

Now, of course, I just
use portion control

before I vomit everything up.

Matthew, you're hired.

Oh! That's great news, Nate.

You won't be... Aah!

Aah!

Matthew! Oh, my Mouse!

- Oh, my child bride.
- Oh, my good...

Oh, everybody, I would
like for you to meet

my ex-wife, Trish.

- What?
- Whaaat?

- No.
- We used to be

the Prince Charles and
Lady Di of Catfish Holler.

[chuckles] But, Trish, what
are you doing in town?

Isn't it obvious?

She's part of Pence's
conversion program.

Oh, sugar booger, I don't
know most of those words.

Mike Pence has started a program

for licensed therapists
to convert gay people

to heterosexual Americans!

Lola, that's not happening.
I mean, I believe you

when you say Pence is a failed prototype

for one of those Japanese sex robots,

but there's no conversion program.

No, no, it's real. While we liberals

were busy debating whether
those naked statues of Tr*mp

were body shaming, Russia
elected the fourth Reich.

And there's a protest about
it this afternoon at 3:00.

Uhh. All these protests.

They keep popping up
like Cosby accusers.

All right, how do I go? What, do I RSVP?

It's not paperless post, idiot. Just go.

And pretend you don't know me!

Trish, what are you doing in town?

You know I'm still a sl*ve
to the cock, right?

Darlin', I know. I was invited

to do an artist residency
at the Balloon Saloon.

Trish is one of the top Balloon Artists

working in the medium.

We met at a balloon fetish social.

Mm-hmm. That's when you
feel sexually excited

by watching other people sit
on balloons till they pop.

Damn it, Matthew, we all know that.

Stop balloon-splaining
and get back to work.

Oh, Trish, do you remember that teacher

we paid to be our "ticklish toilet"?

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

[all chanting] Women
against Woody Allen.

Women against Woody Allen!

Oh, my God, it's you.

Of course it's you. What's going on?

Is this a flash mob? 'Cause
I don't know the dance,

but I can certainly try to learn.

No. It's a protest. Woody Allen's

sh**ting in New York again,
and we're not okay with it.

Let me guess, dipshit.
You just auditioned.

Wait a minute. You look familiar.

Did we used to f*ck in college?

Trick question. I only did boob stuff

with women in college. But seriously,

did we used to f*ck in college?

Andrea Mumford.

We've met several times.

- None have gone well.
- I have no memory of that,

But you seem to know what
you're talking about.

- My name's Julie K...
- Kessler. Yeah, I know.

Another name for the WAWA Blacklist.

Wait. You guys work on "The Blacklist"?

What does James Spader smell like?

No, you bloated Wendy's mascot.

WAWA is Women Against Woody Allen.

Once the WAWA Blacklist is published

in the Women's History Month issue

of the "Hollywood Reporter,"

you can kiss your nonexistent
career good-bye.

Wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait.

How dare you assume

I went up there to audition for
Woody Allen, of all people.

I went in there to protest!

Yeah, that's right. I ripped up sides

right in front of that daughter-marrying

clarinet-tooting clown shoe.

And then, just to make sure
he knew I was serious,

I b*rned my bra.

- Really?
- Yeah, really.

I'm a WAWA too. See this body I inhabit?

It's a Trojan Horse for justice.

These are the scales.

Come on. We did boob stuff in college.

I would have remembered.

♪♪

I love that this is my
second protest in one day.

Although this one's intentional.

Well, it was worth schlepping
out to sh*t-show Staten Island

to make our voices heard in front of

the one building in New
York Tr*mp actually owns.

Isn't it weird our parents used to go to

protests like this in
the '60s all the time?

Please. The only thing my mother used to

protest in the '60s was the
notion of letting her hair

air dry so she could
have a natural wave.

By the way, did I tell you
she called me earlier?

She's furious because
the federal government

revoked her parking privilege.

Did somebody say privilege?

Oh, look, it's you two.

- BOTH: Hi, Lola.
- Do the opposite

of that terrible bra you're
wearing and hold these up.

"Six Pence None the Gayer"?

I don't get it. Is that a joke?

It's the gay conversion initiative.

The government's giving
$6,000 to any gay person

who gets converted by a
"licensed conversionist."

Wait, pence is a thousand?
I thought it was pennies!

I should also mention I've
never read a Shakespeare play.

Book? Shakespeare playbook?

Stage movie? Anyway, I don't
have a great education.

Wait, h-hold on. Who gets the 6,000?

- The doctor or the patient?
- Exactly!

As if integrity could ever be bought

for such a paltry sum!

[crowd chanting]

Conversion therapy?

I'll take any chance I can get

to spend time with you without
that third red wheel.

But I had no idea you
didn't wanna be gay!

Oh, no, no, no, Marilyn,
I do wanna be gay.

Oh, whew! 'Cause even I
couldn't convert a gay person.

If I could, you can bet
that Circle Line Cruise

with Anderson Cooper would
have gone a different way.

[laughs] No, no, no. Look at this.

It's just a new government program.

They send you the paperwork,

and then you just fill
out some materials

and then you get paid...
It's all bullshit.

Oh, come on, Billy. Conversion therapy!

That's beyond pseudoscience!
It's harmful, and...

Wait a minute. If I become
a licensed conversionist,

I'd be eligible for MD
parking permit again?

- See? It's a win-win.
- You do know

that shrinks no longer have
MD parking privileges.

The only way they told
me that I could get it

is to become a member of the clergy,

and I had to preside
over funerals for sperms

wasted in masturbation.

- No.
- Can you believe that?

I did a couple, and then
I said enough is enough.

Marilyn, what do you say?
Will you help me become

a heterosexual thousandaire?

If you help me become a charlatan
with a parking permit!

BOTH: f*ck, yeah!

- Ha ha... Oh!
- Oh, are you okay?

- Arthritis!
- Ha ha ha!

♪♪

What's that smell? Is that "not dinner"?

It is not dinner.

And it will never be dinner again.

Put pilot... I see now

how offensive my cooking for you was.

I hate every minute of this
confusing conversation.

In honor of Women's History Month,

I'm working on a PBS
documentary about Molly Kelly.

- Who?
- She was a feminist icon,

and resented her husband
for infantilizing her.

And I see now that's what I'm
doing to you by cooking.

No! Arthur, there's nothing that helps

the feminist cause more

than a woman coming home to
food a man made for her.

I should know... I'm the
newest member of WAWA.

You joined Women Against Woody Allen?

I'm so proud of you!

You're a Molly Kelly in the making.

Technically, all I did
was set my tits on fire

during an audition I'll never get.

But it feels good to be on
the right side of things

for once, you know? f*ck Woody Allen!

- That's right.
- [phone vibrates]

Hello?

Really?

Arthur, Woody Allen just
cast me in his new series.

Listen, if his last Amazon show

is any indication, no
one's even gonna know

you're working with Woody Allen

other than a handful of
masochistic TV critics.

I know. I just don't wanna be

- on the WAWA Blacklist.
- Working with Woody Allen

never hurt Kristen
Stewart or Parker Posey.

The only woman who ever got
any blowback was Mia Farrow.

But if I work with him,
it's just gonna validate

his terrible behavior. And
I'm not just talking about

the misogyny in his personal life...

I mean, have you seen "Whatever Works"?

Yes. And its portrayal of women

made Mickey Rooney's performance

in "Breakfast at Tiffany's"
look nuanced and respectful.

- So what should I do?
- You're asking someone

who's taking 6 grand from Mike Pence

to pretend I'm not gay.

I don't know if I'm the right person

to be asking for ethical advice.

That said, maybe you can

affect some change from the inside.

Yes, exactly. f*ck it! I'm gonna do it.

Good. Just make sure you call someone

and let them know you want it.

Oh, no, no, no, I already told them.

I decided last night. I just needed

a "Dirk Diggler in the
mirror" style pep talk

before I, you know,
whip out my schvantz.

Oh, Matthew!

[exhales] Where is my Mouse?

Oh, he went to the store to
get some lighting equipment

for the website photo sh**t.

Oh, sugar in my bowl.

Will you give him this little
balloon mousey I made?

Sure. Julie, this is Matthew's ex-wife.

[laughing]

Wait, really?

Oh, my God, doesn't this
look like a little mini...

- Strike Rat! Holy sh*t!
- Yes!

We should have Matthew's weird ex-wife

- make us one of these.
- Or I can make you one.

If we had our own Strike
Rat, we could go anywhere.

'Cause everyone would think
the staff is striking,

and then we would never
have to wait in line again.

Mrs. Matthew, how much do
you think it would cost

to make a giant version of one of these?

Oh, I'd do it for free...

if y'all two help me find Matthew

and get him alone so I can seduce him.

Tch, aw, Trish.

I can only imagine your backstory.

♪♪

- Well, did you open it?
- And ruin the surprise?

No. Three secret service men showed up,

- and then I called you.
- Oh... my... God!

What is in here?

Okay, this is...

Oh, it's a letter for the conversionist.

- That's me.
- Ooh!

It's the new vice-presidential seal.

Well, that's gotta be a... hmm.

Okay, well, if you tilt it,
it's definitely a swastika.

- So, we just won't tilt it.
- Absolutely.

"Dear brave medical professional,

"thank you for helping an American

take a step toward becoming
a regular person."

What? "Regular"? Oh, no,
no, don't worry about me.

- I'm not offended at all.
- No, I was just wondering

if maybe I should record books on tape.

My voice seems to have
such a commanding quality.

Ooh! It's a p*rn mag with
identical twins on the cover!

God, is there anything
hotter than incest?

What else is in here?
Oh, a hacky sack and...

barbecue tongs. Boy, someone really put

a lot of thought into this.

And look. All three
"Hangover" movies on DVD.

God. Oh!

Coors?

Dare we?

[bluesy music]

So I read your new novel.

So, I read your new novel.

So I read your new novel.

Wai... I'm sorry, that can't be right.

How can we all have the same line?

That's what it says in the script.

How can you tell?

He writes in longhand on these...
Post-it notes.

Maybe it means we all read
the line at the same time?

Is Woody here to help us? Woody?

Nope. He heads home 2:00 p. M. Every day

for a salted cottage cheese dinner.

So back to one or...

Okay, you're all set, all right?

There this is what's called

a DIY electroshock therapy kit.

Okay, you look at all these hot guys,

and then I give you a tiny shock.

Here's a shock: I've definitely
slept with this guy,

and he wasn't tiny!

[both laughing]

I cannot understand what the
big deal about all this is.

I dabbled in lesbianism in college.

- You did?!
- Yeah. Well, truth be told,

three dates in I realized
Dutch was a lady.

And then I thought,
"She's here, I'm here.

Might as well do some boob stuff."

- So how was it?
- Eh. It was like "Les Mis."

You know, a lotta people
like it, but for me

it was too long, too confusing,

and too much drama for
what you take away.

Marilyn, are you gonna
buzz my nips, or what?

Okay, so... Wait a second.

Wait. There are more volts
here than I thought.

Oh, sweetheart, no, no. Take those off.

Come on. This stopped being funny.

You're right.

Aaaahhh!

- Aw!
- That hurt.

- Aw.
- You're right.

We'll just throw it all
away and tell them

that we did what they wanted us to do.

Absolutely!

Would you mind if I kept "Hangover 3"?

I saw the first two,
and I just wanna know

how it turns out for the g*ng.

Wow. Trish really outdid
herself with this Strike Rat.

I feel like we should have
insisted on paying her.

I know. But then I told her
that Matthew was all alone

at the cafe tonight, and she
refused to take any money.

- She is one thirsty bitch.
- All right, Strikey.

Time to shame these suckers

into not crossing our fake picket line,

and we can go watch David
Blaine blow his brains out.

"Museum Workers 267."
You gave it a name!

- Yeah.
- I like that!

Thank you. I named it after
my latest cholesterol count.

Where should we go to eat after this?

Somewhere impossible to get into.

But not too late. I have
a big day tomorrow.

After I work on the
new Woody Allen Show,

WAWA is honoring me for refusing
to work on a Woody Allen show.

Okay, that's huge. Not
only did you manage

to avoid the Blacklist, but now
you're the toast of the town.

I know! Let's celebrate

by cutting lines all over the city!

Disperse! Disperse!

- Disperse.
- The power of Strikey

- compels you to disperse!
- Very unfair!

Get out of this David Blaine exhibit.

- David Blaine!
- This is a bad idea

for you to not... go away.

[cheerful music]

Well, he's dead.

Yeah. It was all right.

Yeah. What do you wanna do now?

- Do you wanna eat something?
- Or, um, "Hamilton"?

- Oh! With the rat.
- Yeah, yeah.

WOMEN: ♪ It's a good thing, good thing ♪

♪ That you're my friend ♪

♪♪

♪ It's a good thing, good thing ♪

♪ That you're my friend ♪

♪♪

♪ Something's turning ♪

♪ Now I'm learning ♪

♪ Who's a friend to ♪

♪ Me ♪

♪♪

Yaaas!

There you are, little omelet.

[chuckles] I never have to eat you.

Because I've captured you.

I win, food.

I... win!

- [door clatters]
- Matthew.

Hello, Trish.

Just coming from church?

Actually, I was... on my way home

after a long day of twistin' balloons

into different shapes

and then sittin' on them until they...
exploded

under the pressure of my seated behind.

You remember our weddin' night?

You had a helluva nerve wearing white.

And so did you.

[bright classical music]

Oh!

Oh! Oh!

♪♪

[Matthew exclaiming]

♪♪

Oh... oh... oh... oh!

♪♪

Rrrr! Rrrraah!

Rrraah!

♪♪

[dramatic musical flourish]

[objects clattering]

[old-time bluesy music]

Oh, Max, every time I see you,

I feel like I just
smoked a bunch of grass.

dr*gs! Great... she's
talking about dr*gs.

I'm a mental imbecile, but you...

you're vibrating on a sexual energy.

I must be your muse.

[bluesy music continues]

♪♪

Is someone gonna yell, "Cut"?

Aw, sh*t! Woody fell asleep again.

Come on, everybody.
Start lookin' for him.

- Seriously?
- Yes! He's a napper

and a hider. I mean, it's frustrating

when he does both.

All right, everyone split up and search.

You know, when we were
sh**ting "Midnight in Paris,"

he fell asleep in a lake.

So we gotta make sure we're lookin' for

bodies of water, okay?

Large and small!

All right, and let's not
forget to use the call:

[Shrilly] Wha-whaaaa!

Wha-whaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Woodyyyyyyyyyyy-oh!

Woodyyyyyyyyy-oh!

Let's hear it back!

- Wha-wha-wha-Woody!
- Whaaaa...

- Woody?
- [crew shrilling in background]

- Woody!
- [crew whooping]

I found a fishing hat and
some Knicks tickets...

he can't be far!

- Woody?
- Woody!

- Wah-wah-Woody!
- Woody?

Hello, Newman.

Oh, f*ck!

Hey, guys! I've been
waiting all morning!

You finally showed up
for the WAWA protest.

Woman! Again!

You came in costume?

No. This isn't a costume.

I work at speakeasies
and supper clubs...

doing my burlesque act.

Really? I'm a huge burlesque fan.

I've never seen you. Do
something from your act.

Well... ♪ I'm a hoochie-coochie-coo ♪

♪ And a hotty toddy too ♪

♪ And the town never knew ♪

♪ Such a hullaballoo ♪

[softly] Cha!

Oh, that's right.

I have seen you before.

Hey. Hey, actress.

Hey, actress in a Woody Allen series.

We found him. He fell
asleep inside a matchbox.

We need you on set so we
can wrap this scene up.

Okay, fine! I'm in this thing.

If it's any consolation,
it's f*cking horrible.

They're all f*cking horrible
since "Crimes and Misdemeanors."

I know, but I need this big break

more than you guys need me
to hold one of your signs.

Look, as soon as I make it,
I'll give back to the cause.

I really am a feminist!

The hell you are.

Welcome to the Blacklist.

We're gonna print your name in a font

that is five points bigger
than Scarlett Johansson's.

- Ooh!
- Women!

Uh, hey, actress, I got some bad news.

- We're shuttin' down.
- Wait... what?

Turns out Manhattan Mini Storage

is the name of a business,

Woody doesn't want to go to the
effort to pick a new title.

So... that's a wrap!

[background chatter]

[thud]

Welcome home, Act Break.

- How was sh**ting?
- The worst.

Woody shut down production after
WAWA found out that I lied.

Sounds like somebody just
earned some chicken fingers.

Ah! Thank God! You're cooking again.

I'm sorry I'll never
be like Molly Kelly.

It turns out that's a wonderful thing.

PBS researchers just learned

the reason Molly Kelly
wanted to cook for herself

was because she was eating her children.

She didn't want her husband
poking around the kitchen.

- No bueno!
- Yeah, so we're pulling

the Molly docuseries.
PBS will celebrate.

Women's History Month by rebroadcasting.

Peri Gilpin's American Masters episode

for... yet another year.

Roz from "Frasier," I raise
a finger to your legacy.

These are all for me, right?

- MAN: Next!
- A-12.

Driver's license, boat registration,

- or no longer gay?
- No longer gay.

And I fixed him, so I'm gonna need

a new MD parking permit.

You're no longer gay.

That's right. Serve
me up some hot wings,

fire up "Better Call Saul"
and please ask me how I feel

about women who don't wear makeup.

I have an opinion whether
they're beautiful

with or without it.

Yep. Checks out. Here's
your parking permit.

And these are your straight bucks.

- Straight bucks?
- To make sure

you'll spend your money
like a straight guy.

A Tommy Bahama gift card?

How am I gonna spend 6 grand
at Tommy f*cking Bahama?

These are my new MD plates?

"I'm an MD, I cure gays,
and I believe in Jesus."

Those anti-Semitic fucks!

You can't put that on your car.

Of course I'm not gonna put it
on my car, are you kidding?

Trish!

Hi...

What are you doing here?

Boat permit.

Trish.

You did come here to seduce Matthew

for Six Pence None the
Gayer, didn't you?

Yes, I was at first. But...

Then I got in too deep.

That's what he said!

[sobbing]

[rapid music]

Three hours at f*cking Tommy Bahama.

Finally I just bought this shirt

just so the salesman
would leave me alone.

And I compromised integrity I don't have

to be on a show that'll never air.

Plus, I'm still on the WAWA Blacklist.

That's totally f*cked up.
We did the wrong thing,

and we still got nothing.

Maybe it's time to stop
trying to cheat the system.

Yeah. At a certain age, cutting the line

just becomes a nasty look.

Let's discuss this further
over some Cajun Poke Balls.

All right.

[crowd noise]

Hey, assholes!

Why are you here with another rat?

Are you striking against the
strikers, you sons of b*tches?

Hey, look, the scabs have a scab rat.

No, we are not.

- We're balloon fetishists.
- Yeah.

We're balloon fetishists.

We are sexually stimulated
by popping balloons.

- In public.
- In front of unions.

Who we thought... had resolved
this situation already.

- Yeah.
- Then prove it.

Pop your Strike Rat in front of us.

Well, she can't because...
I'm gonna come.

- Me, too.
- We're both gonna come.

We're gonna come right on the street,

and no one wants to see that.

I don't care.

Pop. That. Rat.

CROWD: Pop. That. Rat.

Pop that rat!

- Pop that rat!
- I'm sorry, Strikey.

Pop that rat!

[pop]

[punk music]

♪♪