The Great North (2021–…): Season 1, Episode 7 - Period Piece Adventure - full transcript

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,

and The Baking Lawyer: "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?

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

♪ Work it just a little bit...

"Alexandra"?

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.

It'll run tomorrow: "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.

Let me guess: 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.

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