All language subtitles for the.great.north.s01e07.1080p.web.h264-cakes

- ♪ Look up there ♪
- ♪ What do you see? ♪

♪ Nature and stuff ♪

- ♪ Like a rock ♪
- ♪ And a tree ♪

♪ Oh, the Great North ♪

♪ Way up here,
you can breathe the air ♪

♪ Catch some fish ♪

♪ Or gaze at a bear ♪

♪ Wow ♪

♪ Oh, the Great North ♪

♪ Here we live, oh, oh ♪

♪ Here we'll stay, oh, whoo ♪

♪ From longest night
to longest day ♪

♪ In the Great North. ♪

Good morning, family.

Or should I say, great morning,

because...

$56 worth of art supplies
was recently donated to school,

and I'm gonna ask Principal
Gibbons to let me put together

a group to paint a new mural
over the old one

- in the east hallway.
- Oh, you mean the old mural

of the whales with eyes
that seem to follow you

- wherever you go?
- That's the one:

Whales Watching.

Ugh, it always gave me
the creeps.

Kept me out of trouble, though...
Kind of hard

to break the rules
with those guys looking at you.

It's practically screaming at me
to paint over it.

And, of course,
I'll have my volunteers.

But since it's my idea,
it'll be my vision.

Like how Jackson Pollock
would sometimes have a friend

throw some paint at a canvas
while he took a nap,

but it was still his painting.

What are you gonna do
for the mural?

One idea is
an abstract cubist rendering

of the various emotions you feel

when you stay home from
school sick, and calling it:

Cube for the Common Cold.

Or Fingers Around the World,

a mural of all the different
fingers and finger styles

- across the world.
- Do both.

Like when I can't decide
between a bath or a shower,

I call it a "shath."

This will be
the world's first chance

to meet Judy Tobin, the artist.

And it'll surely be
the first stop

on the eventual
Historic Judy Tobin Art Tour.

I'd buy a ticket right now
if I could.

As well as some "merc"
from the mercantile stand.

Whew! I am stewing
in creative juices,

-and I need
to go put on deodorant.
-Dad,

did you read the Lone Moose
Mischief Report today?

- The what?
- Lone Moose Mischief.

It's the section
of the newspaper that reports

all the crimes that have
happened in town the past week.

- It names names and everything.
- That could cause
a lot of trouble.

It doesn't. No one reads it
but these two knuckleheads.

The people of Lone Moose respect
each other's privacy.

If someone wants to commit
a crime, that's their business.

It's interesting
you would say that, Father,

considering what I just read.

Ahem. "This weekend,
someone knocked down

"Vera Warren's British
chimney sweep garden gnome.

A single boot was left
on her lawn."

Oh, that's one of the most
famous garden gnomes in town.

When you press a button on it,
it says, "'Ello, gardener."

"Vera believes the boot
belongs to...

- Beef Tobin." -Whoa! -

Dad, did you knock over
Vera's British chimney sweep

"'Ello, gardener" garden gnome
and leave your boot

- as a calling card?
- Of course I didn't.

-Both of my boots
are on my feet.
-Dad,

if you didn't do it,
you're being falsely accused.

This is the family name
we're talking about...

Our second most valuable
possession after the generator.

There's only one thing to do:

run our own
independent investigation

and clear your name.

I watch CSI, NCIS, SVU
and M-O-N-K.

So I'm pretty much trained
to lead you

in a criminal detective case,
if you'll have me.

With those credentials?

Huh, we'd be fools to say no.

- This is highly unnecessary.
- Objection!

Sorry, I also watch L.A. Law,
Chicago Law,

"The
court, and the cake, will rise."

Principal Gibbons,

I have a small speech prepared,

requesting permission
to spearhead

an after-school program
to paint a new mural

over Whales Watching. Here goes.

"Principal Gibbons,
thank you..."

- Permission granted.
- Hey, hear me out! Wait, really?

I've been meaning
to pay someone to do it,

but this is much better...
You'll just need an adult

to supervise you
after school hours.

- Ooh, I know the perfect person.
- Oh, no, Judy,

I am flattered, but I
simply do not have the time.

I work 8:00 to 4:00,
then 4:00 to 6:00

I talk to my aunt in Oklahoma.

It's the only window that works
with both of our time zones.

Oh, no. Darn.

I guess I'll have to ask
someone else.

Are you kidding?

Count this Alys-on Alys-in.

Really? Thank you!

Well, I'm something
of a mural queen myself.

Lance, an old friend of mine,
once painted me

on the side of a van, wearing
a metal bikini, riding a dragon.

The van caught on fire
while being chased by the Feds.

Lance got 15 years, no parole.

But don't judge him from that.
He's a good guy.

What were we
talking about, Judy?

Good afternoon, ma'am.
Detective Honeybee Shaw.

These are my associates,
Moon and Wolf.

I know who they are.
Their mother Kathleen

used to fart on my gardenias.

I'd like you to walk us
through what happened the day

of the knocked-over British
chimney sweep garden gnome

- that says, "'Ello, gardener."
- It was last Salad Friday.

Salad Friday?

Junkyard Kyle comes over
every Friday, and we have salad.

When she arrived, she asked why
there was some boot on my lawn,

and that's when I discovered
that someone had kicked over

my British chimney sweep
garden gnome.

We read that you think
the boot belonged to our dad.

- Why is that?
- It was a Husky Buck brand boot,

and Beef wears Husky Bucks.

Plus, he's a known trespasser
on my property.

Look at those
disgusting sled tracks!

I'll never forget this,
Beef Tobin!

And I never forgot it.
Police took the boot

for evidence,
but I'll show you where it was.

Look. There's still a footprint
in the snow.

But it looks too big
to be Dad's.

Here, compare it to my boot.
Me and Dad wear the same size.

It's like we're twins,
except he's my dad.

The print is too big.

This proves Beef is innocent.
But in order to clear his name,

we need to find out
who is guilty.

We've only got one eyewitness.
I'll handle him.

I know how to push his buttons.

'Ello, gardener.

Oh, yeah, that is delightful!

- Who's our next source?
- Well, there's only one person

in town who really loves feet.

He's a perv...
We shouldn't talk to him.

But there's another person
in town who loves shoes.

Let's go talk to him.

Mural time!

And wow-za,
look at this turnout!

I only joined this club
so that I could storm out.

Here I go!

Okay. Bye, John.

I want to thank you all

for volunteering to be here to
help me birth my artistic child,

and I'm refusing the epidural,
because I want to feel

when this thing crowns.

Hello, everyone.
Your first lesson about art is:

Art isn't about what you see;

it's about what's going on
underneath.

I think she's talking
about that tiny hat.

Should we go start prepping
the wall?

Not so fast, Judy.
We don't even know

- what we're going to paint yet.
- Well, I have a few ideas.

Judy, Judy, we'll get to it.

But first I'd like to run
through a series of exercises

to see what we'd like
to scream to the world.

To begin, each student will
answer one important question.

What do you think
when I say "art"?

- Peanut butter.
- That's my breath. Try again.

Greg's got everyone's shoe
size in town memorized.

- Foot-ographic memory.
- Hey, six wide.

Ten. And...

I'm eight and a half narrow.
Nice to meet you.

Greg, do you think
you can identify a shoe

- by its footprint?
- Husky Buck boot,

Fall/Winter collection, size 12.

Wow! Would you happen to know
who bought this boot?

Your dad, just last week.

No! Doo doo McGoo!

You know everyone's shoe size
in town.

Why would you sell him a pair
of boots you knew wouldn't fit?

Were you setting him up?
You like kicking over

old ladies' British chimney
sweep garden gnomes, Greg?

- You sick bitch?
- I thought they were a gift!

I know his feet, not his life.

Okay, you're in the clear.

We cracked this Greg,

but the truth
is gonna be hard-boiled.

Please don't make egg puns
out of my name. It's hurtful.

Yes! Scream at the world

for its injustices!

And... time.

Great screaming.
Now, let's try yelling.

Can't we just get
to the paint already?

Sorry I had to leave right in
the middle of that... the button

on my pants popped off
while we were rolling around,

and now they keep sliding down.

I'm not trying
to be sexy or anything.

There are belted pads
in the girls' bathroom

that might help hold 'em up.
I can grab you one.

Belted pads?
Didn't we burn those

with the bras in the '70s?

- What's a belted pad?
- It's the only kind

of sanitary product
in the bathroom dispensers.

Picture a twin mattress
attached to a jockstrap.

You know those swing rides
at the amusement park?

Now imagine getting off the ride
and still wearing that swing

- for the rest of the day.
- I asked Principal Gibbons

if we could get
regular pads and tampons,

but he said there wasn't room
in the budget.

This is an outrage.
Everyone, up.

Join hands! I'm feeling
a surge of inspiration!

Up-to-date menstrual products
are a basic necessity,

and how better to demand them

than with a gigantic
wall painting?

I can already see it.

We'll paint a giant,
angry woman.

Uh, actually, I already planned
that it would be a cube,

or fingers, so...

Oh, you're right, it's too safe.

It should be giant,
angry vagina.

- Ooh! And what about a huge,
red river?
- Oh, uh...

Yes, Kima!
With boats! Filled with women!

- Uh...
- And animals? Like Noah's Ark?

- Uh...
- No.

- Noah's Arkette!
- I love this.

Stop! Stop it! Stop!

I mean, I love the idea, I do.

I just, we can just do it
as our next mural

after we finish one of the ones
I've been dreaming of.

Ham, what do you think?

I think when women's issues
are on the table,

it's time for men to sit quietly
down at that table and listen.

You taught me that, Judy.

Ugh! I totally agree that
we need updated products, but...

this mural is a debut of who I...

I mean we... are as artists.
You know?

Judy, I agree.

We got to go bigger.

Maybe all the animals get
their own, little vaginas. Cute!

Hey, Judy. You got 20 till I got
to get on the horn with my aunt.

They changed the price on her
peppermint nighttime tea bags,

so it's gonna be a sesh.

I just wanted to run
a quick mural idea past you.

I love it...

but I don't think
you're going to approve.

- Try me.
- Okay. It's a protest piece

against those belted pads
in the women's bathroom.

It's going to be
a huge vagina...

Let me stop you
right there, Judy.

You know I hate saying
this word, but:

No, we can't have a huge vagina
on the wall.

Aw, shucks.
Well, what about a mural

of all the different fingers and
finger styles across the world?

- Fingers are fun.
- Ha-ha-ha! Great!

So fingers are in
and vaginas are out.

I don't like the way
you said that, but yes.

Guys, bad news. Principal
Gibbons accidentally found out

about the protest mural and said
we absolutely can't do it.

So I guess let's just move on
to other ideas, such as, uh,

- when you take a sick day...
- Judy, stop!

I knew this would happen.
But, you know,

real artists ask
for forgiveness, not permission.

- So we should still do it.
- That's right!

We can't let the Man
tear us down!

Yes. Let the gates of chaos open

and blood rain down,
or whatever.

Or maybe we can make
an even bigger statement

by not making a statement
at all?

- Ham, what do you think?
- I think when women's issues
are on the table...

Stop listening to women, Ham!
What do we know?

- Nice of you to join us, Beef.
- What's happening?

We're gonna give you one chance
to tell us the truth.

Okay, fine.
The pipes technically can handle

two-ply toilet paper,
I just don't like it.

Feels like I'm wiping my butt
with a blanket!

This is about the boot
on Old Lady Vera's lawn.

We know it was you.
You're the only person in town

who bought size 12 Husky Bucks.

That was an accident.
I thought it said ten.

I want to believe you, Beef.
But why not return the shoes?

Why keep them, other than
to use them to commit a crime

and give yourself an alibi?
You like knockin' over

old ladies' British chimney
sweep garden gnomes, Beef?

- Huh? You sick bitch?
- No, I don't.

But I don't make returns.
Returning a purchase

is like bringing an omelet
back to a hen.

She has no use for it,
and you look like a fool.

The boots are in my closet.
I'll show you.

Wait. One boot?

- Scoundrel!
We caught you red-footed!

- They should both be in here.
- Looks like they come

in your size after all, Beef:
size guilty.

Yeah, you sick bitch!

Sorry, sorry, sorry.
I thought I'd try it,

but I didn't like it.
Love you, Dad.

Oof, Judy, what happened?

You look like it rained
on your wedding day.

How many times
have you used that line?

I've nev... I've
never used that line before.

It's just, I was super pumped
to do this mural

and make my first artistic mark
on the world,

but now everyone wants
to turn the mural

into this big protest piece.

- And what's wrong with that?
- I know Alyson said

real artists hold up mirrors
to society

so that they can see
their own disgusting faces,

but just because I wanted to do
the common cold or fingers,

does that mean
I'm not a real artist?

Am I just some sort of, like,
square who likes to paint?

Look, Judy, I've been through
what you're going through

in a magical and terrible time
known as the '90s.

I wasn't a pope-shreddingly edgy
artist like Sinéad O'Connor,

but I wasn't a human cat café

- like Lisa Loeb, either.
- So what were you?

Richer than both of them.

But also, I was just me.

Good art, bad art,
real artist, commercial artist,

none of that really matters.

What matters is that you stay
true to you.

So go back in there tomorrow
and Jude up the joint.

- "Jude up the joint"?
- Yeah.

Maybe you can't get
your whole idea in there,

but you could throw in a cube
or toss in some fingers.

Oh, I hear you. Thanks, Alanis.

Rock on with your socks on.

"Rock on with your socks on."
Oof.

- Maybe you are kind of a square.
- I heard that!

I, for one, believe you.
You're the best guy I know.

And I know like, 18 guys.

Dad, it doesn't matter
if you did or didn't do it.

If the people in this town
think you're a criminal,

they'll start treating you
like one.

That won't happen, son.

I've lived here my whole life.
These are my friends.

He's right, Beef.
I've seen it before, in Fresno.

Charlie was everybody's
favorite lifeguard,

until he was involved
in a neighborly dispute.

Then, he couldn't even show
his face at the community pool.

- Really? What was the dispute?
- Oh, he drowned a guy.

So, is this really

what we want to do,
or is it too obvious?

Obvious? What do you mean?

Maybe instead
of being so literal,

the mural could be
more metaphorical?

Like, a clam or a bunch of women
excelling in the world

of business,
looking at their watches,

refilling the toner,
heads held high.

- Their vaginas are implied. Hmm?
- Hey, there, students.

Superintendent Sandy Flarts
was so excited

about the groovy finger mural,
she stopped by to check it out.

I love fingers,
especially thumbs.

Does that say,
"Huge vagina goes here"?

- Um...
- Judy, we talked about this.

This mural is not
the appropriate venue

to protest your lack of access
to feminine hygiene products.

Lack of access?
There are belted pads available.

Yeah, but they're dusty
and outdated.

They are vintage and classic.
This is totally unacceptable.

- And what authority do you have?
- I'm the superintendent.

Well, I work at the mall.

I say we continue on
against this oppression.

Or we could just go back
to the fingers.

No. T-There is to be
no mural painting at all.

Obviously,
none of you can be trusted.

- Ah, bummer.
- At least we know we tried.

Tried? I started this club.

I lobbied for the art supplies.

This mural was my idea,
my dream.

And then you guys
had to make it your idea.

And I tried to get on board,
but now I don't even get

to paint anything,
not even your big Arkette

with animals sailing in it or
whatever they're doing in there,

and I'm the only one
who even cares?

Oh, geez. Are you thinking
what I'm thinking?

That we accidentally took a
huge opportunity away from Judy,

and now we really upset her?

Oh. I was thinking that I would
look amazing in a Jeep.

But you make a good point.

Yeah. Yeah,
that's a good point, too, Gill.

Oh. This was my thing.
Stupid art.

This is your fault, belted pads.

"See-nih yuhlimaf stralf"?

"Flarts Family, Inc."?

"Flarts" as in Sandy Flarts?

♪ Bum, bum, bum. ♪

Time to air-dry these fingers
and tickle the computer ivories.

♪ ♪

♪ Work it just a little bit...

"Alexandra"?

♪ Get back... ♪

Singles in my area? Interesting.

Oh, no, no. Not now. Focus up.

"Belted pads no
longer holding up."

"Backstock to flow
into schools."

- I know what I must do.
- What?

Oh, nothing.
It's just some p-pads.

Never mind.

Alaska aloha to you,

Junkyard Kyle.

I have those rusty razors
that we were planning to...

Are you avoiding me, Kyle?

What? No, that's crazy.

- I'm just very busy right now.
- Oh.

Okay, with what?

Well, I'm at the dentist.

No, you're not.
You're right here.

- I just came to drop off...
- Wish I could take 'em,

but, uh, we're closed,
so get out of here, okay?

Oh, no, dang, you're closed?

Uh, yes, we are closed.

We aren't really closed,
I'm just avoiding Beef.

Come over here,
let me show you my closed sign.

Guys, we've almost
solved the case.

And the only thing we don't know
is who did it or why.

Guys, turns out I need you
to clear my name after all.

You were right. People are
treating me differently.

Junkyard Kyle wouldn't even
let me in her junkyard today.

Kyle, huh? The same Kyle

who was actually at Vera's
when the boot was discovered?

And who, in fact, discovered it?
And now she's avoiding you?

What exactly is the nature
of your relationship?

Well, I give Kyle
my used razors.

She came over
to pick them up on Friday,

but she left while I was getting
them from the bathroom.

So let me get this straight.
She left abruptly,

without a word, from this house,
this past Friday?

- You know what I think?
- I wish, babe,

but the mystery corners
of your beautiful mind

will keep me guessing
till the day I die.

We got to go talk
to Junkyard Kyle, then get down

to the Lone Moose Mischief

to get ourselves
some Lone Moose justice.

Thank you all for coming.

I know I kind of yelled at you
earlier about taking my mural

away from me,
but everything is different now.

I found out Sandy Flarts
isn't just the superintendent.

- She's also the heiress
to Flarts Family, Inc.

Oh, no. She's spreading
herself too thin.

Flarts Family, Inc.
Is the company that makes

those belted pads
in the girls' bathroom.

They took a huge hit in the '70s
when self-adhesive pads

were invented,
and instead of modernizing,

which would have cost them
money, they found places

who would still
buy their product,

like DMVs and zoos
and public schools.

That's why she didn't like
our mural.

It messes with her fortune.

- That's corrupt.
- It's literally the definition
of corrupt.

As I discovered earlier
when I looked it up.

This is bigger than my idea
or your idea.

Art itself is being threatened.

We must protect it from being
silenced by corporate greed.

So the mural is back on?

Sort of. Sandy explicitly said
that we weren't allowed

to paint the mural,
but she never said anything

about being the mural.

A retraction, huh?

Retractions are for people
who get things wrong.

I never get things wrong.

You did this time. Last week,
you reported that Beef left

his boot on Vera's property,
but that's not what happened.

You see, Kyle and Vera
have a longstanding tradition

- they call...
- Salad Fridays.

It's my business
to know everyone's business.

Right, and they always have
Salad Friday's at Vera's.

And that was always okay
with Kyle, until it wasn't.

Last week, she made
the bold move of suggesting

to Vera that they have salad
at the junkyard,

but Vera turned her down.

Said she wouldn't be able
to gum her romaine in peace

surrounded by all my junk.

That hurt my feelings.

She stopped over at Beef's
on the way to Vera's

to get his used razors.

But when he went to retrieve
them, she saw a brand-new pair

of boots just sitting there
on the counter.

- And she got an idea.
- He said they were too big.

He was just gonna shove them
in the closet.

Her plan? She was gonna toss
the boot on Vera's yard

and then be like, "Ugh, Vera,
who owns a junkyard now?

You do, 'cause there's
actual junk in your yard."

Next thing she knew,
like a woman possessed,

she was walking up to Vera's,
boot in hand.

But her plan had two major
flaws: one, she has bad aim.

'Ello, gardener.

Oh, big baby Jesse.

And two,
she didn't know that Vera

already had beef with Beef.

It was a sledding incident,
over 30 years ago.

The way that woman holds
a grudge is a thing of beauty.

That's why I turned you away
at the junkyard.

I just couldn't face
what I'd done.

Well, this is a first.

It looks like a retraction
is in order.

"We previously reported the boot

"may have belonged
to Beef Tobin.

In fact, the boot definitely
belonged to Beef Tobin."

Yep, well,
that's technically true.

But what about the part
where I didn't commit the crime?

I guess I can throw that in.

- Got 'em!
- Hootie & the Yay-fish!

- All right.
- This case really did me in.

I got to go away for a while.

If you need me,
put a boot on a lawn.

- What's that?
- Is it someone's birthday?

Oh, my gosh, wherever does

this metaphorical trail
of menses lead?

- Oh, boy.
- Behold.

The vagina weeps.
Why the long face?

Because I am forced to sit upon
a sanitary napkin

attached to a belt,
and all I crave

is a sleek, modern tampon.

Or a DivaCup.

Woe, woe. Woe betide the vagina.

Who curses you so?

I am so mad at myself
for quitting this club.

'Twas Sandy Flarts,
the school superintendent.

She makes her blood money
from my actual blood.

She silenced our mural.

But she can't silence
our collective vagina.

No Flarts in our arts,
no Flarts in our arts.

And also, by the way, I'm
the cube for the common cold.

Was that... Did people
feel that was coming across?

I need to see you
in my office, now.

I don't have enough chairs
for all of you,

so bring the Arkette.

You're gonna
expel us all for speaking out,

because you're under
the dirty thumb of Sandy Flarts.

No! I love it when kids use art
to rebel against authority.

- Hello. Footloose.
- Hello.

But it's almost a shame
Sandy Flarts

wasn't here to see this herself.

Oh, we're doing an encore
performance

for the school board.

This was basically
a dress rehearsal.

Please don't do that, Judy.

We really need
those belted pads to stay.

What? You are under
Sandy's dirty thumb.

No, it's just actually
a pretty good deal.

The school gets to keep
a quarter of the pad profits.

It's what paid
for your mural paint.

We also use it
for gym equipment,

thumbtacks, dodgeballs,

the snow cone machine
for Boy's Day...

Did you just say "Boy's Day"?

And Post-its.

Look, I will agree
to use some of that money

to keep a box of tampons
in the girls' restroom.

I mean, how much
can they really cost?

A hundred bucks?
A hundred fifty?

Five dollars and 99 cents.

Really? We could've
had them years ago.

Now walk me through why Gill
and Ham were businesswomen.

I love it, I just want
to understand it.

Hey, Judy!
Bummed I missed the performance.

Can you believe adults
aren't allowed to just

walk into schools
whenever they want?

- How'd it all shake out?
- Pretty well actually.

- Principal Gibbons loved it.
- I'm proud of you, Judy.

- You are quite the artist.
- Really?

You think I'm an artist?

Even though I don't like to make
controversial art unless

I'm pushed to the absolute
brink by corporate greed

and a deep insecurity
about my identity?

You like to make art, don't you?

That's all it takes
to be an artist.

But I do feel
kind of responsible

that you didn't get to paint
the mural of your dreams.

Oh, it's okay.

Well, I noticed
a nice, big chunk

of wall behind the mall

that could really use
a facelift.

Really? Which wall?

The one next to the dumpster.

Are you serious?

That's way better exposure
than the east hallway.

Everyone uses the dumpster.

♪ Checking our watches
late to a meeting ♪

♪ Hike our skirts up
when we're peeing ♪

♪ Business, calling China ♪

♪ Women, implied vagina ♪

♪ Got to have my coffee
and my tweed ♪

♪ Wear my tiny glasses
while I read ♪

♪ Business,
crisp collared shirts ♪

- ♪ I'm a businesswoman ♪
- ♪ Women! Who stole my yogurt? ♪

♪ Heads held high
up to the sky ♪

- ♪ I hold my head up high ♪
- ♪ Heads held high up to the sky ♪

- ♪ Businesswomen ♪
- ♪ I'm a business woman. ♪

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