Original subtitles

♪ La, la, la ♪

♪ La, la la la, la‐la la la ♪

♪ Da da da da ♪

♪ Da da da da da da ♪

♪ Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy ♪

Funding for this program is provided by

The National Drank Council,

The International Beverage Council,

Your Local Thirst Quenchers,

and viewers like you.

"I’d rather drink ditch water

than suffer another drop of savory lemonade" ‐‐

Oliver Wendell Holmes.

At the dawn of the century,

the city of Strongburg was the site

of the largest citrus‐related battle in history.

It forever changed the landscape of beverage menus

and the lives of the very few people involved.

The Islander whose invention started the war.

The young woman who was too eager to fight

because she was without the guidance of her father figure.

The tough‐as‐nails general who kept one ear

to the ground and the other to the streets.

The wealthy but very, very, very stupid heir

to a beverage empire with everything to lose.

And finally, the one wolf who laid down her life

and her edges for soft‐drink freedom.

Hello. My name is Lamont Brickwater.

And along with some special guests,

I will take you through The Battle of the ADES.

At one point in time, the town of Strongburg

was once known for its endless fields of lemons.

The town was settled by the Horse Family

when it was just a mud pit.

But after generations of shitting in the same spot,

a lemon field grew.

And from it, the most delicious lemons the world had ever known.

Thus began the Horse Family, the number‐one supplier

of all lemons and lemon‐related products,

most notably, their savory lemonade

that replaced sugar with bone broth.

All I remember about the Horse Family is the bad lemonade

and the stupid idiot in charge ‐‐ Robert, a horse.

I believe it was Robert A. Horse.

No. It was Robert, and he was a horse.

Lamont: Robert A. Horse was likeable enough, I guess.

But what he lacked in smarts he also lacked in intelligence.

So when his family returned to Kentucky to become race horses

and left him the farm, he needed a business partner.

Can N. Wulf was a man of the skreets

whose biggest skrength was his skrength.

He ran the Horse Farm with an iron fist.

And also a tire iron.

Yo get back to work, son!

What you think this is, a rest stop?

We works around here, ya heard?

Together, these unlikely partners

and kind‐of‐homeys thrived.

But there was one problem.

I already said that [Bshh] was bad.

So bad that the citizens of Strongburg started to talk.

A letter sent to Can N. Wulf

dated "sometime in July" reads...

Signed, "The Streets."

[ Whistles ]

At this time, lemon production in the North

was at an all‐time high due to Eli Yeti

and his invention of the Lemon Gin,

a machine that cleverly and expertly

extracted juice from lemons.

Can N. Wulf wanted to give the skreets what they wanted.

But mostly, he wanted to make lots of moneys.

So he decided to move up North.

And just like that, the partnership came to an end.

Can N. Wulf entered the sweet‐lemonade

business with his new partner, Yeti.

And Strongburg was divided into

Northern and Southern territories

along the Lemon Line,

meant to keep the savory out of the North

and the sweet out of the South.

And it did.

Until it didn’t.

[ Whinnies ]

Good workers, I bring you salty refreshments.

Form a line, please, before the bony bits settle on the bottom.

We good.

But you’ve been working in the sun all day.

What kind of owner ‐‐ I mean master ‐‐

I mean boss would I be if I let you go thirsty?

[ Slurping ]

Hey, you there! That’ll be all, Cousin Seth.

Giddy‐up! ‐Bye.

[ Slurping ]

Mmm, sounds delic‐‐ I mean, yuck!

Sweet lemonade in the South?

Who gave this to you?

Lamont: Muskitt Wulf was Strongburg’s

most skilled and fearless smuggler.

For 20 years, or maybe weeks,

Muskitt Wulf had been traveling back and forth,

moving Robert’s superior lemons to her older brother,

Can N. Wulf, in the North,

and also supplying sweet lemonade

to the people in the South.

In a time when most wolves ran with the pack,

Muskitt Wulf made it clear that her only allegiance...

was to herself.

How many times must I tell you, bone broth is good for you.

For the record, that has never been proven.

I will not let you violate 100 years of tradition.

And I will not disappoint my father.

Robert did not take this violation

with a lack of Vaseline.

Robert A. Horse dumped

every drop of sweet lemonade in the South.

Like a [Bshh] idiot.

Lamont: After a week of recovery,

Robert drafted a strongly‐lettered letter

to his former business partner.

Robert A. Horse: "Hi, Can N. Wulf.

I found sweet lemonade in the South.

I’m not angry. Just [Bshh] pissed.

If we could please ‐‐

Can N. Wulf: "[Bshh] off. We at war.

Signed, General Can. N. Wulf.

Grr, motha[bshh]a!"

[ Camera shutter clicks ]

Lamont: The situation was sour for both sides.

In The North, Can N. Wulf lost his lemon crop

suddenly and expectedly.

With no lemons coming up from the South,

Can N. Wulf turned to his partner for a solution.

Yeti set out to create another sweet drink

without using lemons.

He tried PotatoAde.

MonkfishAde.

And my personal, least favorite, the Ade of Cotton.

Yeti worked around the clock for 11 minutes straight

before Can N. Wulf said...

Yo, yo, you know what?

Let’s just fight, man.

"Let’s just fight, man" became the first slogan of the war.

In the South, Robert, an already nervous horse,

was beginning to [Bshh] bricks

due to the constant fear of attack.

Meanwhile, people grew angry without access to sweet lemonade

and the sales plummeted through the roof.

Robert wrote his father for help.

But he would later find out that his daddy had been shot

after cutting his leg off on his own jar of lemonade.

Of these affected by the loss of sweet in the South,

Robert’s workers had it the worst.

They forced patrons of Old Esther’s,

where they only served savory lemonade.

One young woman tried to unite them.

The Young: Brothers and sisters,

now is the time for rebellion against the master.

We deserve our rights and our free lives!

All: Yeah!

Yo, where’s this kid’s father?

Lamont: Muskitt Wulf returned to he South with sweet lemonade,

never one to back down from a smuggling challenge.

But also, she had traveled to Bakersfield

to get her hair did and was unaware of the war.

When the workers explained that they had no lemons to offer,

Muskitt Wulf decided she had no further business in the South.

But wait! You have to help us.

I can’t help you guys escape this place.

It’s too risky.

Well, we don’t want to escape.

We just want the war to end so we can go back to

picking lemons and dancing in the fields

like some real spinnas.

Y’all want to keep doing free labor?

‐Free? ‐Yo, well, he gonna pay us.

‐He better pay us. ‐He promised.

‐Yeah! ‐Uh‐huh!

‐That’s right! ‐Yeah! Fo’ sho!

For any of you Comic‐Con and cheesy otaku mother[bshh]

out there who think we glossed over the unpaid labor thing...

That’s ’cause we did.

I’m sorry. There’s just nothing I could do for you.

I need to find a new hustle.

Our taste buds are at stake, and all you care about is money!

End the war!

All: End the war! End the war!

End the war! Ayeeeee!

Thus was born the second slogan of the war ‐‐

"End the war, ayeeeee."

Up North, General Can N. Wulf prepared to fight,

something he’d been good at from a young age.

His court‐appointed therapist described him as

"Mean, very mean,

Like Laurence Fishburne playing Ike Turner mean.

Not quite Sam Jackson mean, but a wolf who scares me."

Strategic combat was still new to the general,

as was the title general.

‐Yo, what’s the plan, bro? ‐Plan?

We’re gonna run up in there and [Bshh] ’em up.

That’s the plan.

I mean, you could try to negotiate.

You want me to set up a meeting? ‐Yo, when you have a meetin’,

you got to have a follow‐up, son.

And you know I hate following up.

We move on them spinnas in the morning.

Lamont: Later that night, Muskitt Wulf

penned a text her sister Bayonet Wulf,

who was away at university studying

botany, French, and pyrotechnical [Bshh]

The letter gives us a glimpse of the emotional side

of this conflict.

Muskitt Wufl: "Yo, sis. You know I’m a lone wolf,

but I find myself caught between two sides

that want to hurt each other.

I don’t care. But I also might?"

Lamont: Bayonet Wulf replied...

Bayont Wulf: "Sister, I’ve studied your exact case countless times.

You need to ‐‐"

Oh [Bshh]

Lamont: The next day, the army assembled at dawn,

but waited for Can N. Wulf until 11:45 AM.

Together, they set out for The Horse Farm.

Silly little fruit.

Dancing in our minds and hearts.

Lemonade brings death.

Now, this journey takes minutes because we failed to

accurately depict the size of Strongburg,

and it’s really quite small.

Can N. Wulf takes the workers by violence

with a surprise first attack.

♪

What in tarnations is going on?

Oh, hey, Can N. Wulf! It’s me! Robert!

I know who you are. Now run your farm.

Uh, no!

‐Yes! ‐Unh‐unh!

‐Yes! ‐Not happening!

‐Yes! ‐No!

This went on and on and on...

‐Unh‐unh! ‐Yes!

...and on again.

‐Yes! ‐Not happening!

And one more time after that.

Then prepare for defeat!

Hold the line!

[ Both farting ]

But before Can N. Wulf could "[Bshh] shit up,"

in swooped our unlikely hero.

Wait! Wait! I have a solution!

Lamont: The Country Time Lemon Pledge proposed a compromise

in which The South continued manufacturing savory lemonade,

but instead called it vinaigrette.

Yo, that’s good [Bshh]

Many would later realize that vinaigrette was already invented

and did not include bone broth.

But Robert truly was a stupid horse.

And for the first time in some number of years,

sweet and savory were able to coexist.

What the ‐‐ Hold up a damn minute!

How you gonna sign a peace treaty without a war?

Yo, she right. This ain’t the Civil Agreement.

This is the Civil War!

The war’s last battle was a quick one.

Ah! Aah!

Can N. Wulf learned that the cannon

on his back was functional

and quickly destroyed everything,

including his own army.

And the entire farm.

So decided to open a deliqadanci.

Yeah, I remember it like it was yesterday.

It was [Bshh] up. I loved it.

Yo, Wallace, get me some lemonade,

and none of that Newman’s Own bull[Bshh]

Muskitt Wulf managed to escape the battle almost unscathed,

and with wenches.

Without edges, she retired from smuggling that day.

Legend says she joined a group of free wolves

called the "Carbonation Cult"

and was renamed "Mist of the Sierra"

or "A Copyrighted Soda."

Together, they set off to find the mythical green lemon ‐‐

the lime.

Sounds like some made‐up bullshit.

And it probably is.