Original subtitles

DAVID: Meg, for the last time,

if you don't think Led Zeppelin

is the greatest rock band of all time,

then on some fundamental level,

you don't understand what rock music even is.

I'm fine with that. Rock music is for dads.

DAVID: It's one of the best musical genres

‐of all time. ‐JOHN: Uh, nope.

That's why they call it rock music‐‐because it rocks.

Whatever, genres are for dads.

This is breaking my heart, 'cause I'm a smart guy,

and you should take my opinions seriously.

(hip‐hop music)

Sorry, can't hear you!

(indistinct singing)

What the fuck is this music right now,

‐this mumbling shit? ‐ It's Lil Blurp's new mixtape.

Ugh, you know, this sounds like an upset stomach

somehow fucking a headache,

and I don't like how it makes me feel.

So? Feelings are for dads.

Oh, my God, will you shut up for one second about dads?

‐(phone rings) ‐JOHN: No, thanks.

‐Is that your dad? ‐Uh, no comment.

Ooh, Meg, is this a first pressing

of Swordfish Trombones?

John, you should put down that dumb record

and call your dad.

It's Sunday, man.

Yes, and I deserve one Sunday where I'm not held hostage

to my dad's go‐nowhere stories.

Ooh, what's wrong with his dad?

There's nothing with his dad!

Mr. Hunchman is the greatest guy who ever lived.

He's always like, "Oh, son, do I have

"an interesting story to share with you.

"Today I bought a beige washcloth

and I used my Visa card to purchase it."

Ugh, I find that impression to be unnervingly accurate.

You should talk to your dad.

All dads are sad.

Ah, see? The dad expert hath spoken.

‐Uhh... ‐Heed her words of wisdom.

Fine, I'll talk to my dad.

‐(sighs) ‐(phone beeps)

‐Hey, Dad. ‐HUNCHMAN: Hey, bud.

I was worried you lost your phone again.

Uh‐huh, let's hear your interesting news.

So you remember how I told you last month

I was thinking about driving out to Pittsboro

to check out Dan Henry's new office?

Yes?

HUNCHMAN: I went to see Dan,

who you remember started working for me

back when he was 24 and now, as you know‐‐

He's got your old job.

Yes, sir. He got my old job,

but not my old office!

John, his new office is something else.

They got a whiteboard in the conference room

that isn't even a whiteboard!

It's just a piece of glass,

and, son, it's networked.

‐Okay, and? ‐So if you write on it

in Pittsboro, they could see it at the same time

at the main branch in Charlotte!

I mean, wowie McGowie!

Okay.

But there was something else I wanted to tell you.

(bell chimes)

Well, that was a very long walk

to a surprising destination.

Dude, look, this is insane.

This is Lil Blurp's Instagram from yesterday.

"Shout‐out to my fans, my brands,

‐and, most of all..." ‐JOHN: Mm‐hmm.

"This homie right here," and guess who he's standing with.

JOHN: Uh, let me guess. My dad?

Wait, your dad knows Lil Blurp?

I mean, what is happening right now?

Well, David, as I've just learned,

my dad is apparently Dicktown's biggest mumble rap mogul.

Dear Lord, we thank you for this blessing

and this miracle. This is so awesome!

What's more, he was calling with a case for us.

And, Lord, P. S., just when I thought

this couldn't get more wonderful,

you bless us with the fact that we are about to become

rap detectives, John?

Huh, I guess that's right, David.

We are now rap detectives.

(dramatic music)

♪♪ ♪♪

HUNCHMAN: Believe me, fellas, I never thought

I'd get into the mumble rap business.

Oh, really, you didn't predict this?

To be honest, retirement was kind of dull,

and, as you both know, I crave excitement.

That's when Dan Henry told me about

a young songwriter who needed help.

Mr. Hunchman, what's up, bruh?

What's crack‐a‐lackin', Perky?

I'm so into this.

Uh‐huh. Let's just keep walking.

Now here I am, producing a rap music video

in an abandoned shopping mall.

Who says there are no second acts in American lives?

‐Fitzgerald. ‐Batman.

What? No, F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Well, as Lil Blurp might say,

Papa Zany, haters get wetted by my nine.

(hip‐hop music)

Here we are. Now we need to be quiet.

‐BOTH: Whoa. ‐(mumble rapping)

DAVID: Oh‐em‐God.

Welcome to show biz, fellas.

(mimics blaring airhorn)

♪♪ Nah, just give me paper ♪♪

♪♪ I just want the paper ♪♪

(indistinct rapping)

Wowie McGowie, this is bad.

(indistinct rapping)

♪♪ Hey, Papa Zany ♪♪

♪♪ Haters get wetted by my nine ♪♪

‐♪♪ Papa Zany ♪♪ ‐Oh, my God, Dad.

JOHN: How much money did you invest in this project?

$200,000.

Oh, no.

And what, I suppose you want me to try

to get the money back for you somehow?

No, I made that money back in a week

once we monetized Lil Blurp's YouTube channel,

which is amazing, considering he dropped out of

Smallmouth Poly Prep just five months ago.

‐I can't hear you‐‐what? ‐He dropped out of

‐Smallmouth Poly Prep‐‐ ‐RIZ: Cut!

Who's fucking up my shoot, yo?

Oh, yeesh, I'm sorry, Riz. My bad.

Boys, this is Ryan "Riz" McClorkle.

‐He's our director. ‐I'm on my grind,

tryin' to make Lil Blurp blow up,

so if you gonna keep talking, you gotta take it outside

or just shut the fuck up.

Hey, that's‐‐that's my dad.

Yo, Riz. Hold these.

No one disrespects Mr. Hunchman like that, you hear me?

‐Yeah. ‐He's the bank.

‐Okay. ‐He pays you!

‐Yeah. ‐So just on the professional,

‐you let him by. ‐Sorry, Blurp.

But more than that,

he's that white dad I never had.

Straight up father figure.

Shout‐out to Mr. Hunchman!

(laughs) It's all love.

Aw, you sounded magnificent up there, Blurp.

‐Mm, did he? ‐Yo!

Inspector John, the lonely detective!

‐You gonna help us? ‐Uh, actually I don't know

why I'm here, Dad.

This is why I called you, bud.

There's been an incident on set.

Do y'all fuck with Lil Dronk?

I don't think we do. David?

‐Not to my knowledge. ‐Hmm.

LIL BLURP: He a rainbow dreadlock no‐talent bitch.

We see Little Dronk as a competitor

in the mumble rap sector.

LIL BLURP: Lil Dronk shot a video with a lion.

He walkin' around with a damn lion.

‐Uh‐huh. ‐So I gotta up the game

‐for my video. ‐Oh.

So guess what I got.

Ten omelets!

I'm sorry. Omelets?

Blurp, we've been over this.

They're called ocelots.

(gasps) You have ten ocelots here?

LIL BLURP: Yeah! Ocelots be like mini tigers.

We got 'em from some animal rescue.

Rhode Island or some shit?

It was right over the border in South Carolina.

Right, I thought that was Rhode Island,

but it was South Carolina.

HUNCHMAN: Marinello Sisters Big Cat Rescue.

People get them as pets, but they too wild,

so they abandon them. It's sad.

It is sad, Blurp.

You two really get along, don't you?

So, it's finna be your boy, space hallway stuntin'

with ten little homies like we at Harris Teeter,

also Tokyo Drift, sheezer.

But this morning? They boosted, nah mean?

(laughs) No.

All right, let me figure this out.

You rented ten ocelots to put in a shopping cart.

That's the Harris Teeter reference.

(bell dings)

And push across that sky bridge‐‐

‐space hallway‐‐ ‐(bell chimes)

in slow motion‐‐ "Tokyo Drift."

‐(bell chimes) ‐But they've been stolen.

‐And you want us to find them. ‐(bell chimes rapidly)

Oh, ho, ho, you a don, Detective John!

‐Does that rhyme? ‐Putting that together was

honestly the best detective work I've ever done in my life.

Can you help us, son? Please.

This video is a crucial step for Little Blurp.

(sighs) Fine, Dad.

Take us to the scene of the crime.

DAVID: Okay, here's what we know.

At 7:00 a. m., the ocelots were locked up

under the care of Daisy Marinello

of Marinello Sisters Animal Rescue.

After a crew breakfast that was around 8:15,

Daisy says she feels "sleepy."

She disappears,

and next thing you know, all the ocelots are gone.

Oh, my God, this is terrible.

I mean, it's really shameful.

It's not that bad. It's just ocelots.

No, no, this, I'm watching this Lil Dronk video.

DAVID: Oh.

JOHN: I mean, it's an insult to rap music.

What happened to lyrics?

‐To craftsmanship? ‐Yeah, I know.

I know, nobody under the age of 30 can rap for shit.

‐Come at me, teenagers. ‐JOHN: I just don't get it.

I know that after my mom died,

Dad and I didn't have much in common,

but I didn't expect him to replace me with a secret son,

especially not one with the words

"fuck life, eat pie" tattooed on his tongue.

I understand. It's heavy and it's weird,

but look on the bright side.

A rapper is paying us money to hunt ocelots

in the very same mall where I once got busted

for shoplifting KRS‐One cassettes.

You know what? That was a good pep talk.

‐Yeah, I know. ‐Okay, let's do this.

Ocelots‐‐highly solitary, natural climbers...

If my guess is right‐‐ and it is‐‐they went up

that open air duct shaft and split up.

DAVID: (laughs) Are we going up in an air duct?

‐Yes. ‐Hell yes.

Ocelot hunting montage?

Bring that beat back!

(funky music)

♪♪ ♪♪

LIL BLURP: Yo, that's amazing!

But I only count nine omelets.

Well, that's why I brought you here, Lil Blurp.

Because, unlike most cats, ocelots are gifted swimmers.

Thank you for finding my babies!

I still don't know why I passed out.

Well, let me guess, Daisy.

Was your breakfast smoothie strangely sweet this morning?

Yes! How did you know?

I didn't just come here to stuff pillowcases with ocelots.

I came here to solve a mystery.

Someone wanted you out of the way

and those ocelots gone,

because someone wanted this video to fail.

Oh, for Pete's sake!

Lil Blurp, before David and I went on our "lil safari,"

I did some research into the work

of your rival, Lil Dronk.

Do you happen to know who directed

that video of him with the lion?

I do not happen to know.

Well, I checked the credits. It's Riz.

‐He's also Lil Dronk's manager. ‐(all gasping)

What? Riz works for Lil Dronk?

JOHN: And, Daisy, your breakfast smoothie

was actually Lean,

a potent mix of codeine, promethazine, and candy.

What?

You said it was flaxseed and kale!

Riz drugged you, so he could release the ocelots

and sabotage the video.

Yo, Riz, what's your problem?

My problem is you should've hired me as your manager,

not this old‐ass, khaki‐wearing motherfucker.

Hey, watch it, sir.

At least Mr. Hunchman act his age.

You 35 years old!

Wear a necktie, damn.

You tell him, son.

I‐I mean, Blurp.

Fuck all y'all. I'm out.

RIZ: Peace!

Deploy the ocelots.

‐Go, go, go, my babies! ‐(ocelots snarling)

‐Feast! ‐RIZ: Ah, oh!

Ooh, that is not gonna end well for Rizzy Fannypack Face.

‐Mm, they are bloodthirsty. ‐(ocelots growling)

Mr. H, will you direct the rest of the video?

(gasps) Yes...

if you do it my way.

LIL BLURP: ♪♪ Hey, Papa Zany ♪♪

DAVID: I gotta say, Mr. H,

‐this is an epic shot. ‐Thanks, David.

I was always a fan of Busby Berkeley.

Say, Dad, I think I solved another mystery today.

What's that, son?

No, no, turn around. Look at the monitor.

This is‐‐ this is going to be emotional.

‐Okay. ‐I get it.

You see Lil Blurp as a son because he needs you,

and, even though you're my dad

and I love you, technically,

I never really needed you.

HUNCHMAN: The young man has tattoos on his face

and drinks God‐knows‐what to avoid reality.

I just want him to be okay.

I hope that doesn't hurt you.

No, it's...fine, actually, now that I understand.

MEG: Excuse me, Mr. Hunchman?

My name's Meg.

‐Could I get a selfie with you? ‐Sure.

(quietly) What's a "selfie"?

(vaudeville music)