01x01 - Taxi to the South!

[bunniefuu]

New York City.
Ever heard of it?

♪ Uh-huh, yeah ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

That's me walking.

I'm Petey, a girl
with a boy's name,

so you're allowed to like me.

My days are filled with
typical New York stuff:

getting a coffee on
my way to coffee,

therapy, more therapy,
therapy again,

jaywalking to a museum,

avoiding the train piss bottle,

looking relieved yet somber

as a giant monster is m*rder*d,

and, of course, Broadway.

I had it all, the perfect job

as a senior assistant
editorial assistant

at the biggest fashion
magazine in Midtown.

Mm, good clothes, bad clothes,
good clothes, bad clothes.

Well, time for lunch.

Sure, I'd been an
assistant for eight years,

but they let me take
home the stale bagels

at the end of the
day. Girl boss!

We need to pick a page.

If only we knew which was
going to be in this month,

shirt or pants. Any ideas?

- Shirt covers the top!
- Pants cover the bottom!

Jumpsuit covers both.

What, me? I didn't
say anything.

Ugh.

Sure, I've spent my whole life

terrified of speaking up

because of a complete
lack of sense of self,

but who knows?

Maybe that's what landed
me the perfect fiancé.

He was the best man
New York had to offer.

God, you make sense on paper.

Oh, my God, Brian, not here.

God.

I guess you could
say I had it all:

a man, a job, and an apartment.

Wait, that's three things.

I guess you could say
I had three things,

and none of them will ever
completely fall apart.

My whole life was perfect,

but none of it was ever enough
for my socialite mother,

White St. Barts.

She runs a charity
for unwed dogs.

Ms. St. Barts, your
daughter is here to see you.

What on earth is a daughter?

It's like a son but a girl.

This generation has a
word for everything.

I can't keep up.

Hi, Mother.

I brought you an expensive
yet meaningful pastry

from the bakery we used to go to

when I was little.

How thoughtful.

Now, what is it
you want from me,

money, a lawyer?

If it's an apology you're after,

I'd prefer to just
write a check.

- You called me, Mother.
- Right, of course.

I called you here
because there's a wedding

I have to go to next month
that I'm absolutely dreading.

- Oh, Mother, that's...
- I know, I know.

Why not just send a cold
gift with my regrets?

Mother.

The only reason I'm going

is that I'm the
mother of the bride.

Oh, right, that's you.

Um, here.
- What's this?

I wanted to pretend
I had a gift,

but it's actually the VHS tape
I've been hiding from you.

Honestly, it's the worst thing
I could have possibly grabbed.

Well, now that
you're holding it,

it's a message from your father.

I have a father?

Well, not anymore. He's dead.

- I have a dead father?
- I'll get my checkbook.

Dearest, sweetest,
loveliest Petra,

It's me, your father!

Yeah, I'm sorry I
wasn't around much

when you were
growing up, you know,

but I was busy working
on something so cool,

and if you're watching
this, that means two things:

I'm dead, and now that
cool thing is all yours.

The community of New Utopia...

West Carolina.

Wow, what a nice town I made.

Go get it.

There you go.

Now, I know you're
a city girl. I do.

I was a city boy myself.
We have that in common.

Yeah, there's only one problem,
I'm not a city boy anymore.

I'm a country old man.

Okay, now once you grow up,

I'm sure you'll be a
decisive, opinionated,

brave, confident leader
just like your daddy,

and once I'm gone,
the only person

who can keep this
place going is you

because you're the
only me that's younger.

Does it... does that make sense?

Does it make sense?

We need fresh blood around here.

We love you, Petey!

Yeah, look at them!
They love you!

Whoa.

Security, there's some
random woman in my office.

Tonight on "Hot
People Over-Sharing

Their Trauma and
Then Kissing"...

My mom got really sick.

My dad exploded.

Wow, a whole town or whatever?

That's a dope inheritance.
Are you gonna take it?

No way.

What about my job, my apartment?

And what about Brian?
He can't leave now.

He just got a big raise.

Well, what if you went
out for a little bit?

Just to test it out.

You could get to
know about your dad

and touch a cow.

I mean, maybe you'll like
living in the country

and not getting
married to Brian.

Wait a minute.
What's on your lip?

That?

It's... oh.
- Oh, my God.

A splinter? That means...

Oh, God.

Brian? With my best friend?

- It's not what it looks like.
- This cannot be happening.

You know there's no
good guys in New York.

I mean, what woman
could say no to him?

I am done with both of you.

My female boss.

We just got the numbers

from the magazine
we published today.

The one on shirt?

They're the worst
we've ever had.

Turns out the
answer was jumpsuit.

Ugh, but I said that.

No, you whispered it
under your breath,

then called yourself dumb,
then you did a little shimmy.

Oof, did I say the
dumb part out loud?

I'm dumb.

I'm sorry, Petey.

We have a zero-tolerance policy

for women calling
themselves dumb.

You're fired.

No!

My apartment!

Sorry, I knocked
over every candle.

Ugh.

Wait, Petey, stop.
Where are you going?

Taxi!

Taxi to the South!

I was feeling really sad

after my whole life
literally burned down.

I just needed to
lay low for a while

and figure out my next move
in my dead dad's weird town.

Ugh.

Ugh, no service.

This is not New York. Oh!

Uh, I'm walking here.

Oh, ugh.

No, not my tiny shoe.

Hello, hot redneck.

Hello, hot redneck?

- Name's Bandit.
- Could you help me?

I'm stuck in this...
This brown cement.

I'll save you from
that there mud...

It's called mud...
On one condition.

Uh, okay.

- You turn tail and get.
- I what?

You take that
caboose and vamoose.

A moose and "jaboose." What?

I'm saying you better go
back where you came from.

You are being so
mean for no reason.

Don't you know who I am?

You are Petey St. Barts,
and I will die on my feet

like a horse before I
let you ruin that town

like your daddy did.

Excuse me, rude hunk,

I can do whatever I
want with that town

because my dad gave
it to me in a video,

and I am not gonna
let some uneducated,

square state, backwoods
nobody push me around.

Wowie, all right
then. Suit yourself.

But you should know,

your town has a
little gator problem.

Oh, God.

Please help me.
- Hey, it's your town.

You figure it out.

Okay, fine, I'll
leave on the next bus.

Just help me.

Shake on it?
- Ugh, fine.

Just make it quick
and not on my hair.

Oh, no, not what
I was going for.

Ah! Oh.

Gary.

Go get it, Gary!

Mm.

Thank you, but as I
learned in my many years

as a senior assistant
editorial assistant,

that contract is not binding
because I didn't open it

on my phone, agree to
terms and conditions

I never read, and
then press okay

to a signature that
looks nothing like mine.

But we spit shook. You snake!

Can you help me get
a ride to my town?

Help you?

I wouldn't help you
with a ten-foot pole.

But I'm a Southern gentleman,

so I can't just leave
you out here all alone.

So what do we do?

Ugh, oh.

Ugh.

Will you at least tell
me why you hate me?

Hydrangea, you hear something?

What... what? Oh, oh, my God.

Oh, my God. Oh!

And honestly, New Yorkers
never talk to our neighbors,

so you won't even know I'm here.

I'm thinking they already do.

Wow, talk about
Southern hospitality.

Right, Bandit?

Ugh.

Uh... Hi, I'm...

The spitting image
of your daddy.

Welcome to the New Utopia Inn.

Mm.

I've been waiting
on you for so long.

This day... oh, this day.

Um, so who are you?

I'm Mae Mae.

I was your father's right
hand until the day he died.

His right hand, perfect.

So you'll be able to
answer all my questions.

This town has no
questions, only answers.

That was not an answer.

Oh, look at your broken heel.

Let's get that fixed up.

Emmett, will you take good,
long care of this shoe?

I take good, long
care of every shoe.

- Emmett, neutral statement.
- Ugh!

Let's get you to
your father's room

so you can take a shower.
- God, yes.

I would love a shower.

- ♪ Ha, da, doo, da ♪
- Oh, ah, that's so nice.

Thank you, thank you.
- ♪ Nah, nah, nay ♪

Not the weirdest
shower I've ever had.

Ooh.

It's so fun having a leader back

'Cause I help the leader.

Anything I can ever do
for you, you just holler.

And I mean anything.

Honestly, this day
has been a lot.

I could use a
drink in a fun way,

not in any other way.
- We have drink!

Ooh.

Welcome to the Filthy Pecker.

Over there is the jukebox,

and back there is where
men punch fight to music.

Up there's Big Judy,
and right there's Eliza,

proprietress of this
fine establishment.

Hey!

She'll make you the
finest pickleback

this side of the Chattahoochee.

Thank you. What was
your name again?

- I'm working actor Alan Tudyk.
- Who?

I'm the chicken in "Moana."

Cool. What are you
doing out here?

I took a workshop out here once.

Really fell in love
with the place.

All it needs is
some fresh blood.

Young people, alcohol,

a random slightly famous person.

These are all the
signs of a good party.

Wait, is this place fun?

Ooh.

I thought I told you to get.

So you're mean to me
but nice to old ladies.

Random.

Is your body wearing a necklace?

Oh, it's a belly chain,
a timeless fashion.

That's kinda... I...
I've never seen that.

It looks... bail.

Okay.

What is it about a hot guy

being nice to an old lady
that is so [bleep] hot?

Yeah, good.

Eh, maybe I'm just horny and
upset because my ex-fiancé

cheated on me with
my best friend.

Weird instant
overshare. I like it.

I'm Eliza.
- I'm Petey.

And I am loving your bar.

It's almost good
enough to be in NYC.

Thanks, I poured my heart
and soul into this place

ever since my last
relationship ended a year ago.

Oh, my God, I'm just out
of a relationship too.

We have so much in
common. Let me guess.

Another woman?
- Uh, yeah, you could say that.

It just feels like
my whole life,

every decision was made for me,

either by the culture
or some older person

who's in charge of me.
- Same here.

Ugh, listen to us sharing our
heartbreaks on first meeting.

We sound like an episode of
"Hot People Over-Sharing...

"Their Traumas

and Then Kissing"!

- You watch that show?
- Oh, my God.

I never miss it.
- You feel this, right?

- Your ice-cold grip?
- Our friendship spark.

We're gonna be best
friends. I can tell.

I do feel it, but are we
getting too close too fast?

Um, probably not.

Look, my whole thing
with coming out here

is to bring this town into
20-whatever year it is.

Is there anything I should know?

Listen, a lot of
people around here

will be fake with you
because of who your dad was.

Not me.

If you need someone to
talk to who's normal,

come find me, and if anyone
tells you they're normal,

don't trust them.

What is this?

That there is pool darts.

Simplest game on the books,

unless you're city
folk, of course.

Uh, I was an assistant
at "Money Girl" magazine,

so I'm pretty sure I
could figure it out.

- Want to bet?
- Name your terms.

If I win, you have
to leave town.

And if I win, you
have to kiss me.

Deal.

♪ What are you waiting for? ♪

♪ Oh, come on, what
are you waiting for? ♪

Beginner's luck.

Pay up, loser.

♪ What are you waiting for? ♪

♪ 'Cause you got everything
that I've been dreaming of ♪

♪ What are you waiting for? ♪

♪ Oh, come on, what
are you waiting for? ♪

Get it!

- Why are we clapping?
- Because they're kissing.

Come on.

- I can't do this.
- Why not?

Because your dad ran a cult.

What? No, he didn't.

I grew up with your
dad, and it was hell.

Once he died, I thought it was
safe to come back and rebuild.

You being here ruins all that.

Well, I can make it better.

You being here
means the prophecy

of the great daughter's
return is fulfilled.

That's why I wanted
you to leave.

I thought you were being mean
to me because you liked me.

- Who would do that?
- This is not a cult.

It just needs a
little fresh blood.

Oh, yes!

Oh, here we go. Thank you.

Ooh, it's cold.

Fresh blood, fresh blood.

Fresh blood...
- Ooh, looks sharp.

What the [bleep]?

This is what a
feminist dies like.

Sweetie, what's wrong?

They k*lled Alan Tudyk.

He's good in everything.

He's like a boy Judy
Greer, and they k*lled him

for me.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I guess I should have
warned you better.

It was your father's teaching

that, on the night of the
great daughter's return,

we k*ll a character
actor. It's tradition.

You people are [bleep] crazy.

Give me my shoes.
I need to leave.

Sorry, your shoes
aren't ready yet.

Even the shoe guy was fake?

Taxi! Taxi!

What is wrong with my hand?

Please, Petra, you can't leave.

We need you here so
the comet will return.

Oh, God, it's a space cult?

Ugh, of course.

Boomers love space.

Emmett, the emergency
combination TV/VCR!

Uh, what is this?

Your father will explain.

If you're watching this tape,

it means you've gotten
a little spooked

after witnessing your
first human sacrifice.

Hell, I wouldn't blame you
for running for the hills,

but you're still
here. Why is that?

Maybe it's because your
shoe is still in the shop,

or maybe, just maybe,

it's because, despite
the unfamiliar,

bizarre, and occasionally
horrifying sights

you've seen today,
you can't help

but feel connected
to this place.

I'm trusting you with it, Petey.

Whatever you want
to be different,

you can change.

New Utopia needs
you, and deep down,

I think you need New Utopia too.

P.S., who got
sacrificed tonight?

Who was it? I love
show business gossip.

Was it Helen Hunt? Was it?

God, she'd be such a great get!

Well, Petey, will you accept
your father's gift to you?

But the gift is a cult.

What isn't a cult?

You wear your
LurlyLimon leggings

to yoga class where
you hurt your body

to impress the tiny lady.

You get your hair
done exactly the same

as the most powerful
girl at work.

You do everything your
therapist tells you to do.

Our comet's cult-y?

How about you
won't buy a printer

during mercury in retrograde?

You're right.

My life in New York was as
big a cult as this cult.

You could go home
and keep muttering

your genius ideas
under your breath

for the rest of your life,

or you could stay here

and say them out loud.

I do have good ideas.

I should be the boss.

Oh, my God, I said what I mean,

and I'm not doing a
self-deprecating shimmy

to undercut it.

I'll advise you just like
I did for your daddy,

and I admit, we do
need to modernize

and get a little more
young people around here.

I don't even know who the
"Euphoria" generation's

Alan Tudyk is.

Is it Lukas Gage?
Beanie Feldstein?

It's Evan Peters, isn't it?

Evan Peters is 36.

Wait, really?

Aw, I know today was a lot,

but it's just how we
say, "I love you."

And you're not used
to hearing that,

especially not from your mom.

So will you stay, Petey?

Bring forth the
ceremonial dagger.

Bring forth the ceremonial
boo-boo sticker.

All praise the great daughter!

Praise Petey!

Sweetest, dearest,
loveliest Petra,

what shall be your first decree?

No more human sacrifice.

Okay.

- Anything else?
- Yeah.

We're not wearing
kaftans anymore.

We're wearing jumpsuits.

Jumpsuits!

No human sacrifice?

But that's a pillar
of our faith.

I know, Emmett,
you [bleep] weenie!

Hey, neutral statement!

As long as she's here, we're
fulfilling the prophecy,

but she can never leave.

Well, my dead
ex-husband's daughter

who is now my BFF just
took over the cult

I'm a member of.

This ends well, yeah?

One way or another,
I'm gonna stop her...

and at some point, I'll
probably [bleep] her.

Wow, I guess I'm
a cult leader now.

I'm still not sure
how I feel about it.

It's like I got
promoted to she-E-O

of a super toxic corporation,
hey, but I'm in charge now,

so I can make things better.

Also, I could find
out more about my dad

and maybe impress my mom.

Gee, been up here for a while.

Hope they put me down soon.

How big is this cult?

Wow, I've learned a lot today,

like that Evan Peters is 36.

That seems wrong.

I should remember to google
how old Evan Peters is.

Wow, I'm going really far.

I wonder which celebrities
I can get to join the cult.

Oh, I bet I could
get Frankie Jonas,

or Frankie Grande.

Definitely someone
from Freeform.