12x06 - Over and Out

[bunniefuu]

♪

You and your pals were
talkin' about the newspaper

the other day...

They're cutting the Storks Reports
from the Letterkennys Banners.

- Good.
- Pardon?

- I said they're cutting the...
- I heard ya.

- Oh.
- Good.

- Pardon?
- I said, they're cutting the...

- I was talking to Dary.
- Oh.

It's inappropriate to
have a quarter-page column

on page two of the Banner always
announcing which nut sacks had kids.

It's no more than
an eighth of a page.

- That's splittin' hairs.
- And it's only just often

on page two.
- I'ds have it right up fronts

if I coulds.
- f*cking 'eh.

Why do yous two like the
Stork Report so much?

It's fun to reads. I gets to
go, "Oh, they hads a kids!"

No, it's fun to read
because I get to go...

Oh, they had a kid?

Should be all
business on page two.

I open up the Banner to see
important current events.

Like police briefs
or a calf auction,

or Commanchero's Show'n Shine.

Letterkenny Legionnaires scores.

Banner Blitz with Dan McNee.

Not to see which
nut sacks had kids,

and ekspecially under the
title of "Stork Report".

Starks retorts.

Firstly, no Stork has
carried a baby anywhere.

And secondly, Storks aren't
even native to this area.

What if they calls it
the Blue Herrons Reports?

Neither of those birds have
carried babies anywhere.

Stop being cute,
just gimme the news.

What?
- Hmm?

Why are you lookin'
at me so long for?

'Cause I think... what you've
just said... is absurd.

- So a baby is about 10 pound.
- If it's a big f*ck' fat one!

I was just ballparkin' it.

Pretty big fat f*ck' ballpark!

Okay so what if it's
an 8-pound baby?

Who's gonna teach that stork
to carry the baby, Wayne?

You?
- I think it's pretty obvious.

- You think?
- I do toos.

- Alright. Have at 'er.
- A falconer.

- A falconer?
- Yeah.

One who practices falconing.

Practices what?

Falconry.

Falconing is the acts of
calling over a birds, Darys.

So if you call over any
bird it's called falconing?

Mm-hmm.

- What about if it's a penguin?
- You could still falcon it.

Waynes, is maybes yous confusing
storks's with pelicans?

What if it's a turkey?

Well, turkeys get
falconed all the time.

- Really?
- There's probably someone

out there falconing
one right now.

Did yous knows there's a birds

called the Blue-Footed Boobys?
- You'd need two dozen storks

to get the baby airborne.
Plus, you'd need some crazy

contraption so you could
harness the thrust of 24 storks.

You need science on your side.

You'd have to have a good
relationship with science.

And getting 24 birds to
cooperate towards a common goal?

In today's
social-political climate?

Huh.
- Forget it.

Peregrine falcon.
Or Pere-grin.

Fastest traveler of
any bird of prey.

Top speed of about


Works out to about 390s kilometers
per hours, gives or takes.

- Wow. That's fast.
- Fastest hunters

on planet earths.
- So okay, Dary, Dary, okay...

Falconers falconing a Pere-grin.

Only elite falconers
f*ck with Peregrines.

The falconer puts
his arm out, okay?

Goes... [whistles]

Means it's time for
the bird to come over.

Now that c*ck sucker's dartin'
around thousands of feet

in the air currentleh.
- I'm thinking about 3500 feets.

That's exactly what I
was thinking, about 3500.

Now he's got all sort of gopher,

ground hog and mouses
below he could b*mb down on

at any time, 240 mile 'n hour.

Eats whats he wants
whens he wants.

But despite all that
choice below, Dary.

- World's his oysters.
- Unlimited options.

For snacks.
- Shootin' fish in a barrels.

The Peregrine sees
the falconers arm out.

Hears... [whistles]

And rather than pillaging
the land, his land,

the world's fastest hunter says,
"Mm-mm... I'm going to land

on that nut sacks' arm instead."

For what? A peanit.

Have to at least bes a cashews.

He'd have all sorta nut.

Wow. Falconers are powerful.

A falconer could get the
Peregrine to pull its d*ck

out of his sweetie mid slide.

But you don't think it could
get a Stork to carry a baby?

He's got you there, Darys.

How's yer beer?

Well, I'm not saying
this changes anythings,

'cause like full credit to
falconers and all that, but like...

I was confusing
storks with pelicans.

[upbeat music]

[rock music]

There's gonna be more
degens than there is us.

A distraction will be required
to get the jump on them.

What do degens like?

Hanging bed sheets over windows?

Throwing gasoline on fires?

Driving with no shirt on?

I've got just the thing.

Watch this.

[rock music]

How many more times do you thinks we're
gonna have to do this, good buddys?

- Do what?
- Beats the shits

out of some degens.

Well, I think it'd be naive

to think this is the
last time, good buddy.

It's fair to say one in
ten peoples is degens.

- I'd say one in eight.
- One in eight!

That would mean there's
a degen among us, boys.

- McMurray.
- Fine, two in sixteen.

Look, alls I'm saying is this.
There's always gonna be degens.

Just as along as there's enough
non-degens to balance them out.

- Yeah, like, stand up people.
- Well-meaning folks.

- Classy individuals.
- There's always gonna be

goods guys to beats the shits
out of them when they needs its.

Yeah, there's always
gonna be good guys.

Always gonna be
really good guys.

Always always gonna
be great guys.

- Friendly.
- Neighbourly.

- Decent.
- Noble.

Altruistic.

Magnanimous.

But do you wanna know what...

It sure is a pretty good
time rounding up your pals

to take care of 'em.

[rock music]

[upbeat music]

[panting]

Oh. Thank you.

[birds chirping]

[music playing in the distance]

- Boys.
- Boys.

We've... been through
a lot together.

We've done a pretty good job
of staying out of each other's

ways over the years. That's
probably for the best, you know.

Hockey players and hicks haven't
traditionally gotten along well around here.

But after everything we've
been through together,

all the times you've
been there for us...

And all the times we've
been there for you.

We just wanna say that...

You have our respect.

- We respect you.
- You've earned it.

We...

We respect you!

I don't f*ck' care.

- Who are ya again?
- I don't even know

what your names are.
- Dorito head and Fun-Dip face.

Wanna know what? I've had more respect
for cats who take dog size shits.

- Tostito twins.
- Look at you,

you got a bum chin
and a f*cked up nose.

Does that bum chin twerk
when you jumpin' rope?

You look like Stevie
Wonder drew Johnny Bravo.

- The Bubblicious boys.
- I have a hard time believing

your mom wasn't drinking hard
bar with you in the womb.

Your mom loves Jager Bombs.

Your alarm goes off
one morning, you say,

"Well, I f*cked it all up."
- Oopsie.

"I can hit snooze, my
whole life's a waste."

- Piss up a rope.
- You're a Jolly Rancher

and a honey nut cheerio.
- The Cheeto chums.

Do yous ever just take a look
in the mirror and think like...

this isn't necessary.
- Were you dropped as a child?

I'll f*ck' drop
you as an adult.

The gummy bear boy
and the Kit-Kat kid.

How'd you make outta childhood

without sticking your
tongue in a light socket?

- The Peanut Butter brothers.
- Hey, tip 'em over,

let's see if Fruity
Pebbles come out.

A honey comb and a cookie crisp.

You're a sour key
and a sun chip.

- You like Fruit by the Foot?
- You can fruit by the f*ck off.

Reilly! Jonesy! I
cooked you breakfast.

[both]: This isn't over!

Jinx. You owe me a coke.

Cool. I'll feed
it to the dogs.

- No!
- Not the maple bacon!

That's the best bacon!
- We're coming, Katy-Kat!

[upbeat music]

- We are not doing it, Roald.
- We're doing it, Stewart.

- We are not doing it, Roald.
- We're doing it, Stewart!

We've done it all! Over the years
we've been small-town drug dealers,

big city drug dealers...

Got jacked and conquered
other big city drug dealers...

Entertained the hard right

on the... [both]: Dark web.

We're The Hottest
Sex Imaginable.

The Hottest Sex Imaginable.

We shall not forget
about 2cock Shakur.

- Just 2cock.
- And most recently,

we had the sexiest after hours
club Letterkenny has ever seen.

But Roald... none of our
endeavors have failed

so epically as what
you are suggesting.

- Stewart.
- None of our ventures

have flopped so heroically
as what you are proposing.

- Stewart?
- Which is precisely

why we are not...
- Stewart!

We are not rebooting Fartbook!

Or are we? [whimpering]

Or are we...
- Stewart says we're not.

Ugh. Fine. Fluff you then.

- You took it from us, Glen.
- Oh. And left it better

than I found it. And what
the truck is wrong with that?

- You stole it!
- Yous may think I stole

Fartbook from you,
but cheese and rice,

that world was moving fast
and it was leaving you behind.

I could match its pace.

Unfartunately, yous could not.

Come to think of it, I feel like
something was holding you back

the whole time, Stewart.

Stewart?

It used to take talent for someone
to want to point a camera at you.

Perhaps the greatest social
breakthrough of our time,

or all time, is when
the kids realized

that it takes no
talent whatsoever

to point a camera at yourself.

I came into Fartbook with
a bit of gas and a dream.

Champion of the Bronx cheer.

The over saturation of amateurs

on the platform
k*lled that dream.

They slipped in silently
without us ever noticing.

Silent... but violent.

And like all Fartune


corruption slowly crept in.

The most powerful lobby
of them all: Big Fartma.

The site was no longer
about the fartist.

Almost overnight, it had
become just one more victim

of the Gastro
Industrial Complex.

But, Stewart, dareth you
say it was all for not?

Yes, Glen.

I dareth.

[sighing]
- Oh my gourd.

How sooneth we forget, Stewart.

Without Fartbook, there
would be no OnlyFarts.

Fart work is work!

Fartbook walked so
iToots could run.

Spotifart is the
superior platform.

Cleared the chamber
for iFartRadio.

Who after a successful
GoFartMe campaign,

acquired YouToot, Stinkedln
and Break Wind Mobile.

You're right, Glen.

I dareth not say.

So we're rebooting
Fartbook, Stewart?

No, Roald. If we're
going back to our roots,

we're going all the way back.

Further back than Fartbook?

To what?

A rave at the Ag Hall!

[birds chirping]

K.

- You sure?
- Sure.

- Are you sure?
- We are sure.

For sure, we're
sure. [chuckling]

- Are you sure?
- We're sure.

- You're sure?
- That we're sure?

Yes, you're sure you're sure?

[all]: We're sure.
- Why?

Well, it's 'cause...

[mumbling]

Pardon? [mumbling]

- What?
- 'Cause agricultural halls

are for agricultural music.

- Oh yeah.
- Oh yeah.

And we know how much you
guys love country music.

No.

- You don't love country music?
- No.

- Not even a bit?
- Not one bits.

- Not one drill bit.
- Not one bell pepper.

[both]: Yahtzee.

Well...

Maybe one bell pepper.

- Yeah, maybe one drill bit.
- Sure, one bits.

- You're sure?
- We're sure.

Well, I think... Yeah,
I like it a wee bit.

- A little dab'll do ya.
- Everything in moderation.

Small doses are fine.

So... we can have a
rave at the Ag Hall?

I just don't suppose it
makes a ton of sense to limit

a choice venue like the Ag Hall

to a genre of music we
only like one bell pepper.

[laughing]

Wow!

In the spirit of family!

Take about 20% off
'er, there, bud.

In the spirit of friendship!

- More.
- Fellowship?

- More.
- Camaraderie?

More.

In the spirit of community!

We...
- The skids.

Would like to
cordially invite you...

The hicks.

To our rave at the Ag Hall!

[all]: No thank you.

What's the point of having
a rave at the Ag Hall

if no one comes again?

I'm sorry, are
you talking to us?

- Was that not clear?
- It wasn't crystal.

- Ditch the attitude, Aly-cat.
- Bit muddy.

Fitting for a dirty
girl, Bianca-donk!

- Roald.
- Stewart.

Can you help us or not?

Can you believe we
had sex with this guy?

- Mm-hmm.
- Mm-hmm.

Mm-hmm. Bro. Figure it out.

- Figure what out?
- If they won't come

for rave music, figure out
what music they will come for.

- Post-Emo Core Step?
- No.

- Folktronic Glitch-A-Billy?
- No.

- Extempo Freakbeat?
- No.

- CanCon K-Pop?
- No.

- Blue Eyed Countrypolitan?
- No.

- Old School Nu-Metal?
- No.

- Hamburger Brit Hop?
- No.

- Nicaraguan Neo-Oldies?
- No.

- Lo-Fi Billboard Prog?
- No.

- Madrigal Speed Trap?
- No.

- Tin Pan 2-Step?
- No.

- Surf Trance Trip Twee?
- No.

- Baltimore Acid Baroque?
- No!

- Big Room Big Band Big Beat?
- No!

Ugh!

Okay. Letterkenny
consists of hicks,

skids and hockey players.
- And Christians.

[hissing]

I told you we were
done here, Glen.

Oh are we?

Are we?

If you want people to come,

just have a little
something for everyone.

Brilliant. How are we gonna
get the word out, Stewart?

We are going to put it
on our f*cking Facebook.

And you are going to put it
on your f*cking Facebook!

Fluff Facebook.

[rhythmic music]

[♪]

[needle slides off the
record, music stops]

[crying]

[squealing]

[squealing]

[crying]

[banging]

Hey!

The f*ck' door's locked!

[breathing heavily]

Oh?

One of yous gonna let us in?

Yes! [clears throat]

Yes, of course!

Well, f*cking pitter-patter!

[rock music]

Thank you, everyone.

Sincerely.

Thank you for coming to our
hockey-themed hick rave.

- Blessed by the Lord.
- As a special treat,

and as a token of
our appreciation,

we've decided to debut
our electronic remix

of a local favourite.
[imitates record scratching]

[exclaiming]

Pitter-patter.

- d*ck skin?
- Dickens.

Is my last name.

Ladies and gentlemen,
are you ready...

- Ready, ready...
- Ready...

for "Sun Darts - Reimagined?"

That's a Texas size 10-4.

Over and out.

[rock music]

[nostalgic music]

♪ Sun Darts - Reimagined ♪