02x01 - Remember Fun?

[bunniefuu]

Eyes and ears, señoritas.

I'm Sergeant Bambino,
commanding officer

of this here maternal mission.

In case you aren't
aware, Fort Gator

has the highest teen-pregnancy
rate in the nation.

No,
stop. That's a bad thing.

Therefore, this
Mother's Day Weekend,

your good friends
in the U.S. military

will run an advanced simulation.

We're calling it Operation:
Keep Your Legs Closed.

After self-impregnation,
your A.I. Real Baby Embryo

will migrate up into your womb
and expand to newborn size.

In T-minus four to six
hours, you'll give birth,

then care for your baby until a
recon team comes to retrieve it.

But it won't be easy.

These babies' sole mission
is to get you to shake them.

Your mission is to resist.

Questions?!

Um, I don't want to do this.

Spoken like a
real parent. Next!

I've already decided
not to have kids

for environmental reasons.

Do I still have to participate?

- Affirmative.
- Aw.

According to our research,
77% of babies born today

contain more plastic than
your average water bottle.

So giving birth is a lot more
like recycling than you think.

But, mister, what happens
if we do shake the babies?

One shake... nothing. Two
shakes... also nothing.

But three shakes and you're
out of the reproductive game.

Your girlie eggs will be
frozen for a decade... minimum!

Frozen?

Like, harvested and
preserved cryogenically?

No, ma'am.

Frozen like funds
in a bank account.

Now, I'll wait
outside the classroom

while you insert the babies.

But please don't swallow them,

as they're considered
a choking hazard.

Okay, line up and
serve your country,

ladies!

♪ I'm not as crazy
as I used to be ♪

♪ Some of my devils
up and left me free ♪

♪ To find a quiet space,
I'm not as out of place ♪

♪ And I'm coming home again ♪

♪ It's been too long a time
gettin' back what's mine ♪

♪ And I can't remember
why I went away ♪

♪ But it's lookin' now
like maybe I can stay ♪

Is that any good?

Baba, please take me with you!

Every year, all you
want for Mother's Day

is to be left alone.

But this year, I want to
do something together.

How about a couple's massage?

Or a mother-son tantric brunch.

It's less sexual than it sounds.

No, Peter.

Old Country way is mothers
spend Mother's Day Weekend

alone in forest, trapping
and k*lling bear.

That best gift.

Well, I'm making Annie take
me to the Mama-Con Pub Crawl

for our first
Mother's Day together.

It's like SantaCon
but for single moms.

I think I'm crowning!

Boil some water!

Aaaah!

You think giving
birth is gonna get you

out of taking me to Mama-Con?

Well, think again.

Being pregnant never
stopped me from drinking.

This isn't a real
pregnancy! Aaaah!

I'm part of a secret
government experiment!

Aaaah!
- That's either your shame

talking or my tax
dollars hard at work.

So, yeah, win-win
for Baba. Good luck.

You, too, Baba!

And happy Mother's Day!

Little help here?

Sorry. I got to
deliver a surprise

picnic brunch to
Baba in the woods.

Shh!
- Fine. I'll do it.

The sooner you can
squeeze this thing out,

the sooner we can Mama-Con.

I did this when I was
your age, so you can, too.

It doesn't take a genius.

Okay, pull!

Pull!

Oh, oops.

Push!

Oh, wet!

Oh, get her off me.

Ouch! It's gripping!

Real baby activated.

Initiating
maternal-instinct test.

Commence wail
mode.

Stop! Please!

Stop! Please be quiet.

Oh, no! No! No, no!

Shake number 1.

Bad mommy.

Problem solved.

Let's go.
- You cannot shake her.

If it happens twice more,
my eggs will be frozen.

Mommy detected.

Low self-esteem,
people-pleasing tendencies.

Commencing
shake-temptation protocol.

Okay, way to be

an assertive little girl boss.

You know what you want,
and Mommy loves it.

Don't touch her.

Sorry, but the baby and I
should probably stay home.

Just leave it here,
Annie. What's it gonna do?

Call 911?

That's the great
thing about babies.

They can't.

- Connecting to 911.
- No, no, no.

End call, end call.

I can't leave her alone.
- Fine.

Bring it. I can't
believe a baby

is ruining a perfectly
good Mother's Day.

Surprise! Oh!

Idiot!

I nearly put b*llet-sized
hole in boy-sized head.

What in the hell
are you doing here?

I thought you might
be hungry out here.

Hungry for a son's love.

And!
- No. I very full.

Baba just Rocky Balboa
a half-dozen eggs.

Well, I took the
liberty of learning

how to cook a delicious
traditional Old Country brunch.

Sad possum with a
side of ryegrass,

and to wash it down, your
favorite, brown wine.

- Ehhh!
- Boo!

Eat my ryegrass,
poor-planning strumpet!

- Boo!
- Hyah!

- Get husband, you nympho!
- Shameful.

Unwed teen mom give birth
alone in shame cave.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Aha.

Tell me, little one,
do you like the teat?

We have visitor.

Hello, Mr. Bear.

We friendly.

See?

Hyah!

Huh?

Ha ha!

Aah!

Girls, new enemy is bear.

One day, we get revenge!

Peter, quick, run.

Get out of here before
bear take you away

and raise you as its own.

I'm not going anywhere
until you taste my brunch.

Shut up and go, stupid boy!

You'd rather sh**t me
than spend Mother's Day

with your favorite son?

Fine!

'Scuse me.

Aah!

Oh, my God. This is
better than I imagined.

I can't wait to get in there

and see what it's
like to be a mom!

Annie, will you
shut that thing up?

The moms are judging.

Either shove that baby
back inside or go home!

I don't think she
likes the loud music.

- Move it along!
- Sorry.

No outside food or
babies under 2 allowed.

Moms are welcome to leave babies
unattended in their hot car.

Next.

I am missing out on Mama-Con,
and it's all your fault!

Whoopsie-doodle, b*tch.

Mom! Stop!

My eggs. Remember?

Shake number 2.

If you're not supposed to
shake it, why does it have

such a stupid shakable face?!

It looks just like
a normal baby, Mom.

Exactly.

Well, I guess if I spy on Baba

from a distance,
that will still count

as us spending Mother's
Day together, right?

Oh, no! I can't
spot her anywhere!

I think I'm lost!

Wait. What's that?

Wow!

1, 2, 3... 17... 56...

99 bottles of beer on the wall.

So this is where
that song comes from!

Do I smell an adult mama's
boy with unmet needs?

Ooh, hello, dear.

I'm Mother Marnie.

Why don't you come inside
for a nice cold beer?

- Oh!
- Make yourself at home, hon.

I'll be just a moment.

Those your sons?

Bet you're excited to spend
Mother's Day with them.

I insist you join us.

I'd love to spend Mother's
Day with my own mom,

but she wants to be alone
and "avoid me today."

How peculiar.

Oh, I couldn't bear the thought
of being away from my boys.

Would you mind if I took
your photo to hang up?

Say "beer."

Beer.

There. I think I finally
got her to sleep.

I'm gonna go set up
her crib upstairs.

It's a tiny coffin.

Don't touch her.

Yeah, yeah.

I guess you are kind of cute,
at least while you're sleeping.

Maybe you just had
to get used to me.

I'm more of a mommy
than you realize.

In fact, my womb
is full right now.

Yes, with insects.
- Scanning.

Insecure alcoholic
universally disliked.

Correction.

Non-living human with worn-out
beetle-infested genitalia.

Correction.

Subhuman cast member
of "Bad Girls Club"

who was too ugly
to get camera time.

- You shady little b*tch.
- What you gonna do?

Shake me?

Don't shake.

Annie needs her...
- Do it.

You know you want to, Grandma.

- Shake 3.
- Oops.

Potential maternity terminated.

Commencing Operation:
Eggs on Ice.

Whoopsie-doodle.

Okay, I've got the
white-noise machine on, and...

Oh, my God!

Did you shake her again?!

She begged me to!

I was hoping things were
getting better between us,

but you act like it's
your job to ruin my life.

Annie, I hate jobs.

I did you a favor.

But if it's really such
a big deal to you...

What are you doing?

I'm using my death powers
to "Magic School Bus" myself

into the baby and turn off
the strikes from the inside!

Mom, no. Wait!

- Death power!
- Aah!

Huh?

I did it!

Hey, watch this.

"I'm a baby.

I poopy myself."

Oh, wait.

I think I actually
did just sh*t myself.

There's still three tallies.

That didn't work at all.

Come back out of there.

Okay. Death powers!

And death powers.

Aw, crap. It's not working.

What?! Why?!

Annie, my powers have
a truth but no logic,

like a Picasso painting

or a season of "Riverdale."

My guess is, I'm like a husk,
and any actual death powers

I have or had
are because of the beetles.

- So you're just stuck in there?
- Well, on the bright side,

now you got to take care
of me on Mother's Day.

Is the, uh, booby bar open?

The new bro is waking up.
Look. He's coming out of it.

Hey. You're Marnie's sons.

Your mom's real nice.

I guess I drank too
much and passed out.

Whoa!
- Easy, now.

Sit and take a
breather, brother.

Hey, how about a
nice frosty cold one

to put some color
back in those cheeks?

Not really in a
Popsicle mood, thanks.

Oh, cold one.

You guys really like beer, huh?

Go on and try a sip.

We brewed it ourselves.

- That's nice.
- Note the, um, apricot.

Huh?
- Come on, Pete.

Try some.
- You got to try it, Pete.

I don't really like
beer, but okay.

Oh. Tastes like beer.

Sure does.

- Aw, Pete.
- Pete!

You notice the almond?

Van thought I was
a nut to add it.

Oh, Bucky.

Now, Pete, I'm sure you've
got a lot of questions,

and we're more than
happy to answer them.

Well, just off the top of
my head, where's Marnie?

And are we in prison down here?

Also, do I taste a little
kumquat in that beer?

Ah, Petey, this is gonna
be a bitter ale to swallow.

But this here is an
eternal fraternity.

A brewhouse of brotherhood.

And there's no way out of here.

From now on, there is only here.

What?! I can't stay here!

I felt the same way at
first, but now look at me.

Sure, I haven't seen the
sun in six years, but...

Six years?!

Why won't Marnie let us out?

She expresses her
love through padlocks

and pretending she's
leaving to go on errands,

but she's really just
waiting in the driveway

for someone to
make a run for it.

We warned Number 11 about
that, but he wouldn't listen.

Honestly, Marnie is the best.

I mean, she lets us
crash here for free.

And on Fridays, she orders
pizza and rents a DVD for us.

Baba never lets me have pizza.

She says it makes me hyper.

I think you're gonna
have way more fun

living under
Marnie's floorboards.

Plus, we'll teach
you how to brew.

You'll be whipping up tasty suds
with your pasty buds in no time.

I mean, when you
put it that way,

it sounds like a
pretty amazing life!

- Yeah!
- He gets it.

I never imagined my
life could be so good.

Okay, brothers.

But before we proceed,

could I have a moment
alone to pinch myself

so I know this great situation
is real and not a dream?

No problemo, bro.

We'll be in the grow room
checking on the hop harvest.

Up top.

Come on. Send, send,
send!

Jesus, Mom!

You really need to get
some fiber in your diet.

That was actually way more solid

than I expected it to be, right?

Oh, no!

That's my friends. I forgot
they were coming over.

Play along.

I don't want them
to know I failed.

You're a baby the
government gave me as part

of a covert operation
to stop the human race.

Got it?
- Yeah.

Yeah, sure. Government baby.

I can do this.
- Hey.

How you guys holding up?

Anyone hit three shakes yet?

Only two, but it was close.

I haven't slept.

And when we walked past
Dadology this morning,

she started talking about how
much more fun the dads are.

My mommy can't keep a man.

Once I told Manny
I don't want kids

and just want to be a cool
aunt, things got much easier.

This sucks.

If the government's trying to
prevent unwanted pregnancies,

why won't they just make birth
control and ab*rtion free

and available to all?

Right, guys?

Pbht! Good luck with that.

Wait. What are you
guys looking at?

Oh, my God, Annie!

Your baby has three strikes.

Even my shitty-a*s baby
doesn't have three strikes.

Danger! Danger!

See you later, Annie.

- Good luck, Annie.
- Baba.

We weren't expecting
you back so soon.

Eh, day was bust.

Peter's surprise
scare away bear.

Oh, no.

Annie, very sorry, but
baby resemble Trophy.

Will probably grow up to be
jezebel bimbo like Trophy, too.

Eh! Horrible shame.

Baba, it is me.

I put myself into Annie's
government-assigned real baby

because...
- Yeah, I no care.

Peter!
- He hasn't been back

since he left to bring
you a picnic in the woods.

Push memory down, Baba.

Keep traumatic
memory in stomach,

pinned below Rocky Balboa
eggs.

Son in danger!

Repeat... son in danger!

- Sending coordinates.
- Come!

We must save him now!
- Ugh! Really?

It's just these baby
arms are so short.

No!

As Mother's Day gift to Baba,
we all go save Peter as family.

Good job, Pete!

Now I'm gonna teach
you the differences

between flaked and malted oats.

Wow! Oats got malted now?

Awesomeness!

Come on, Baba.

Pete better be eaten at
least from the waist down

if he's making us
drive this far.

Shut baby hole!
According to Son Finder,

he should be right about
here.

Look like "Hansel
and Gretel" cottage,

but of adult-boy kidnapper.

Let me take the reins
on this one, g*ng.

Annie, grab Baba's g*n
and hide it in your pants.

What?

I need you to "yes,
and" me on this, Annie.

Here's the last of it,
boys.

How's that Chicago-style
beer coming?

- Oh, it's thick!
- And zero traces of ketchup.

Ugh!

Ah. Can I... help you?

Hi. Sorry to bother you,

but do you happen to
have a tampon for my mom?

She just got her period,

and we're worried
it'll attract bears.

Sorry, dear.

I haven't had a need for those
for many years now, I'm afraid.

Take care.

Maybe she could
use your bathroom

to MacGyver something
together and clean herself up,

because it's
looking and smelling

like Texas chili down... Ow!

Please, mother to mother.

I just need a minute, and
then we'll be off to resume

celebrating Mother's Day in
the middle of the remote woods.

Fine. It's
back and to the left.

But I'm afraid I'll have
to ask you to be brief.

I have my own Mother's
Day plans to attend to.

Uh, lovely home.

Very creative to
make all from bottle.

You live here by self?
- Yeah.

Me, myself, and I.
- Oh. I envious.

Hmm.

I bet it not often
you get a visitor.

Nope. Hardly ever.

Just my sons.

The cabin is pretty
hard to find,

if you don't know where to look.

- These your son?
- Yes, my pride and boys.

- #BoyMom.
- Peter!

Drop it. I'm holding a g*n,

and I am definitely
comfortable with that concept.

I knew one day, a nosy mama bear

would come looking for
her pathetic little cub.

- Where my Peter?
- Now he's my Peter.

You'll never see him again.

Oh, yeah?

Activating Marco Polo Mode.

- Marco.
- Polo.

They're under the floorboards.

Oh, God, she k*lled them!

Or they're in the
creepy basement.

That smells delicious!

You'll never get my boys
or my home microbrewery!

Get away from my
daughter, witch!

Aaaaah!

You ugly little b*tch!

Let go of my mother!

Use maternal instinct
to defeat predator.

- Booby!
- Yeah, right.

I mean, Annie!

Huh?

Aah!

Way to go, guys.

Mom! Are you okay?

Ugh, her leg tasted
like eczema lotion.

Peter!

Please, don't leave!

Don't abandon me!

Don't worry, Marnie.
We'll stay right here.

You guys know you literally
can't stay here, right?

- What? That's official?
- Come on!

- Well, that's stupid.
- No fair.

Well, g*ng, I guess
this is goodbye.

No way, brother.

You know what? We could
all move in together.

Yeah, find a clutch two-bedroom
in Downtown Fort Gator.

We all sleep in one
room and use the other

for a little home-brew setup.

You down?

Let me, uh, think about it.

Can one of you big
boys crack this for me?

To the weekend, right?

- Aww!
- Oh, yeah.

If you take even one sip,
I'm putting you in baby jail.

Damn! Couldn't resist
shaking it, could you?

It's complicated.

But how'd you know about
the three-shake rule?

I used to be a
Tech For Real kid.

It was good, honest union
work deterring young folks

from becoming moms.

We also provided sentient
anti-loneliness Teddy bears

to the elderly.

Marnie... she ordered one,

and I came here to
do the in-home setup.

And she made sure I never left.

I miss her.

Is there any way you
can undo the strikes?

None of them were even my fault.
- Let me take a look.

I can try rebooting it
to the factory settings.

Wow.

Would you look at that, Bucky.

Babies having babies.

This is the world Marnie
tried to protect us from.

Okay, if you thought that
was a normal Mother's Day,

you might be a redneck.

Right?

Annie Fantasy?

I'm following the tracker
on Real Kid number 82791.

Here to collect.
- Sure thing.

Here you go. She's
been a real angel.

Zero shakes? Very impressive.

If you so choose, you will
make a great teen mom.

Some people just aren't
cut out to be teen mothers.

Don't I know it.
Sterilized 12 today.

Glad I'm not lucky 13. Up top.

Best Mother's Day ever, Baba.

Brunch with all your kids.

Right.

All my kids. Hm.

♪ Baby, baby, baby b*tch ♪

♪ Go conquer someone else ♪

♪ People say, "How beautiful,
how sweet, how kind." ♪

♪ You're perfect, you've
got nothing to hide ♪

♪ But I, for one,
have seen the sun ♪

♪ And the b*tch that
you've locked up inside ♪