Get a load of this loser.
Yeah, looks like a barista or something.
Probably writes poetry.
Is that your boyfriend?
No, that's not my boyfriend. It's my poetry teacher, Mr. Reed.
- What?! Are you serious? - Nailed it.
What are you two so happy about?
Don't worry about it.
Don't you think it's a little bit late
to be getting a ride home from your teacher?
I was at an open mike night at the coffee shop he works at.
- What?! - Two times! Two times!
- You're good. - What is happening?
Eh, nothing. Just that we are psychic as balls.
Mm-hmm. And as a psychic person, I will have you know
it's never a good idea to have sex with your teacher.
- I'm not sleeping with him. - Good.
- Yet. - Wha... ? Oh, come on.
Sabrina, I always knew you were dumb,
but I didn't realize you were a walking cliché.
I thought you liked the pretty morons with the cheese-grater abs.
Yeah, I did, when I was younger. But I'm a woman now.
I can grate cheese on Brian's brains.
Brian sounds like a real child molester.
Why? Because he thinks I have a real future?
- In poetry? - Sure.
Or maybe as a singer/songwriter,
if I ever decide to put my words to music.
You can't sing. Or write songs.
Come on, open your eyes, this guy just wants to bang you.
Oh, really? Then why does he want me to read
my poetry at the school's Art Fest?
Uh, because he wants to bang you.
I like poetry.
- Boat, coat, moat. - Yeah, careful, Ben,
she might fall in love with you, too.
Listen, I had a fling in high school with a faculty member,
and it was a big mistake.
You slept with a teacher? Sweet.
No, it was not sweet. And it wasn't a teacher.
It was just this guy who worked at the school.
Mm-hmm. Like a janitor?
No, not like a janitor.
He was head of maintenance.
So King Janitor.
All that matters is that it was very traumatic.
Once he got what he wanted from me, he just blew me off.
And when I tried to confront him about it,
he... he just acted like nothing ever happened, you know?
Like I was just this crazy psycho who dreamt the whole thing up.
And nobody believed me.
They all trusted the janitor, huh?
At least the janitor drove a car.
Whoa. What's going on?
I'm trying to stick the frickin' landing on the frickin' handspring.
- You got to bend your knees. - I freaking know that!
Okay, hey, don't snap at me, all right?
Talk to me.
Let me in.
Okay, well...
they published the eighth grade Hot List,
and I came in at number 42.
- Oh, that's not so bad. - Out of 50.
Oh. That stings.
God, you know, when I was a kid,
they used to tack that thing to the bulletin board.
I was always top five.
One time I got strep throat,
they had to send everyone home on antibiotics.
I don't get it. I've tried everything.
My hair is bigger than it's ever been.
I paid for everyone's lunches last week.
I spent a fortune on this belt buckle.
I figured this handspring would really turn things around.
Give me 200 bucks... I'll fix your problem.
- You can get me to number one? - Yeah.
Well, I mean, right after I cure genital herpes
and fix the racial divide in America.
No, I am not a miracle worker, Chip.
But I can get you in the top 20.
Okay, fine.
What do I got to do?
You get some beauty sleep
and enjoy your final night of being uncool.
"I got up from the floor, and I took a walk.
"As I reached the top of the bridge,
my feet trembled.
I realized just how easily I could jump."
Do it. Jump already.
- Don't heckle the poets. - Oh.
Got to keep a low profile.
I'm trying to assess how big of a threat Mr. Reed is.
Oh, yep. There he is,
surrounded by all of his groupies.
Ah, probably deciding which one he wants...
to kill.
I don't think poets are going around killing people.
Yeah? What about Che Guevara?
I don't know what that means. Shh.
"Wind passes.
The glowering sun emerges,
and with it a new day."
I'm sorry.
Just with all the pain in the world...
it feels more appropriate to speak from the heart, off the cuff.
- Ew, gross. - Yeah.
When I close my eyes,
I see our land in flames.
And I ask myself, who do we blame?
Do we blame the old beggar with the crumbs in his beard?
Or do you not see him?
- Do you wish... - Is he gonna say "disappear"?
... he'd disappear?
- Get out of here. - Wha... ?
- Did you know that one? - What the hell was that? No.
It wasn't... that wasn't off the cuff.
It rhymed. It was a poem.
Did he just tickle her?
He definitely did just tickle her.
We caught a predator.
I'm gonna go give Dr. Seuss a piece of my mind.
All right. Well, I'm gonna hang back. Oh, hey.
Do you think they got hash here?
What, like, on the menu?
- Yeah. - No.
You know, it's cool. I'm gonna ask anyway. Yeah.
Psst.
- Ow! Aah... - Oh, yeah!
That's gonna shine up real nice.
Wha... ?
The hell is the matter with you, you frickin' idiots!
Okay, you know what, you want to complain,
or you want to hear the plan?
That bruise is your ticket to climbing The Hot List.
- How? - Aw, Chip.
I look at you and I see nothing.
You're not smart. You're not funny.
You look like a jackass. Okay? You got no hook.
That black eye's gonna give you some much-needed mystique.
Do I have mystique?
An assload of it.
Now, pay attention. When you go to school
people are gonna ask you what happened.
You keep it vague. You say, "Don't worry about it."
You let the rumor mill do the work.
Whatever they cook up is gonna be far sexier
than the fact you got your ass kicked by a ten-year-old.
- I'm seven. - I rest my case.
Guess it's worth a shot.
Yeah.
But first we're gonna need to make that bruise a little deeper.
Ben.
Due cappuccino. Enjoy.
So, you like underage girls, is that right?
- Excuse me? - Oh, your little cheering section over there.
- You like 'em young? - Oh. My students.
To be honest, I think they're only here 'cause I offered them extra credit.
Oh, I bet you did.
What do you offer them next, a little red wine?
Some aged cheeses?
I'm sorry, I don't follow.
Let me see if you can follow this, Mr. Tambourine Man.
I see you. I see right through you.
- So if you think that... - I'm sorry to interrupt,
but can you just tilt your head that way, just a little bit?
Why?
The way the light is bouncing off your hair,
it looks really cool.
Well, I just got highlights.
I'm Brian.
Yeah.
- Oh, hey, where'd you go last night? - Yeah,
it's kind of a long story.
Yeah. Tell me about it.
They didn't sell hash at that place,
but I got to talking to some of those poets,
and they had hash, so we smoked up in their van,
and we got so faded.
Oh, it's good.
- That's really great. - Mm.
Yeah. Oh. What about you?
- Did you confront Sabrina's teacher? - Yeah, yeah. Kind of.
And then I banged him.
- What? - Yeah. Now, look, before you say anything,
it's actually a pretty smart parenting move, right?
- Mm. - She's not gonna want to go
anywhere near that guy, 'cause I poisoned the well...
'cause I'm the champ.
You don't follow the champ.
So... you had sex with Sabrina's crush...
- for Sabrina? - Mm-hmm.
She better thank me for it, too, 'cause it was not good.
- Oh. - Lot of ear stuff.
What happened to you?
Lose your keys and have to sleep in the yard again?
Nope. Actually, I was with a man.
Oh. Good for you.
Did he have a nice tent?
Okay. I go do something else.
Nope. No tent.
Uh, just a crappy little studio apartment.
Actually, think you might know this man: Mr. Brian Reed.
Yeah, right.
I'm sorry?
Are you... Are you serious?
Oh, my God, Mickey, he's way out of your league.
- Clearly not. - Mr. Reed prefers smart,
interesting women. Like me.
Oh, believe you me, I had him.
- I plowed him. Plowed him good. - Mm-hmm.
And I wouldn't be surprised if he needs to take a sick day.
Oh, God, what do you have?
Nothing. No, not me. I'm not gross or sick.
- I... I exhausted him... - Mm-hmm.
with sex.
Mickey, it is one thing to lie about hooking up
with your teacher when you were in high school,
but to do it when you're 50 is just sad.
No, no, no. Don't do that to me. No, I...
First of all, I'm not anywhere near fi...
It... That doesn't matter. I had them. I had both of them, all right.
I had Mr. Reed, I had Winston.
- I had both of them. - Okay.
- It's not a lie. - I'm sorry.
- I'm not lying. I didn't lie then. Thank you. - I'm sorry.
I don't mean to be rude, okay? I just...
I can't picture Mr. Reed slumming it
with some leather-skinned drifter.
How is that not rude?
'Cause it's accurate.
You know what?
This is fine.
It's no big deal. I'll just have to prove it to you.
I look forward to that.
Hey, man.
What happened to your eye?
It's nothing, don't worry about it.
Whatever, he probably got beat up by his fine-ass sister.
A... all right, all right. I... I... I'll tell you what happened.
I was chillin' down at Marucci's Pizza,
and I was in line for a slice
when these three goons from South Greenwich cut me in line,
so normally, I'm a helluva laid back guy.
Okay, but there's only one slice of 'roni left, and 'roni...
that's my favorite topping.
So I tell the guy, I was like, "Yo, there's a line."
And he goes, "Oh. You want to do something about it?"
And I was like, "Yeah. I thought you'd never ask."
Long story short, he pops me in the eye, I don't feel a thing.
So I say to the guy behind the counter, I was like, "Yo, bro,
let me get that last slice of pepperoni pizza to go.
My friend here will take a body bag."
- Wham! - Whoa.
Roundhouse kick right to the face.
You're gnarly for real, bro.
Yeah. I didn't stick around long enough to see if he actually died, but
I haven't heard anything, so I guess I'm good.
Damn. I... I didn't know you were into beating ass.
There's a lot of stuff people don't know about me.
I'm mad mysterious.
Whoa.
Inhale.
Take all the thoughts in your mind,
place them in an imaginary backpack.
Or messenger bag, if you prefer.
Now, take the bag of your choice,
and embrace its weight.
- I've got something you can embrace. - Hey, hi.
What are you, what are you doing here?
- Just came to see my boo. Hi. - Hi. Hi.
- Miss us. Oh. - No, don't... don't do that.
- Uh, you need to leave. This is very inappropriate. - Mmm.
Oh, yeah, will do, magic man. No, just real quick, I just wa...
H... h... h... hold on a second, where... where's Sabrina?
I thought she was in this class.
- Sabrina Pemberton? You know her? - Yeah, I'm her aunt.
I really wanted her to hear this next part, though.
- Can I talk to you outside? Thanks. - Uh-huh.
Could've sworn that she would've been in there.
Well, hey, do you know where she is?
'Cause maybe you could walk me to the class? Is that dumb?
That's crazy. I'm sorry, that's crazy.
Oh... Come over for dinner tonight.
Yes. She'll be there, that's where she can see us together.
Okay, what do you like to eat? You like, uh, pizza?
No. Look, last night...
was a mistake.
Okay, well, hold on.
I know that.
A mistake, are you kidding me? I was gonna tell you that.
Look, if I'd known that you were a parent at this school,
I would have never slept with you.
Well, that's rich coming from a man
- with a harem of young girls. - I have to go.
All right. Well, h... hold on a second. Hey.
Do the right thing.
Yo. There's the man.
- How'd I do? - Uh, frickin' amazing.
- Yeah. Still got it. - Ben, I want to thank you.
This black eye is the greatest gift I've ever been given.
- Really? - Big time.
You're looking at the second hottest dude in eighth grade.
Wow.
It works.
Hey. Second?
As in number two?
Believe it.
Okay, the only way you go from 42 to two
is if some guy goes in there and mows down 40 other kids.
What'd you do?
Nothing. Some kid was dogging on me,
so I told him I tuned up some public school kids.
Oh, my God, you fool. I told you to keep it vague.
Sorry if I took your advice and made it a frick-ton better.
Nah, you don't get it, man.
Now you're a fighter, and that's very specific.
You're gonna walk around with a target on your back.
Yeah? Well, heavy lies the crown.
G-give me ba-back my b-binder.
"B-B-Binder." What?
I can't understand you. Speak English.
Can I help you?
Whoa.
You're welcome.
Ow.
There you go.
You'll thank me later.
What is wrong with you? Are you insane?
Oh. I guess Brian informed you about our little poetry slam sesh?
My friends told me that you stormed into his classroom like a lunatic.
- Wait, but he didn't say anything? - No, of course not,
- because nothing happened. - Okay, now I'm pissed off.
I feel like I'm back in the janitor's closet, and everyone's...
Sabrina, I am not lying.
Sabrina, shame on you, okay?
Women need to believe each other.
I know that when I hooked up with Edward Olmos, Jr...
It's Edward James Olmos. I... it... it... that doesn't matter.
It didn't happen. Stop saying that.
Well, looked just like him.
So just some old man with bad skin? My thing happened.
Just stay away from Brian, okay? He's mine.
Oh.
Okay. Okay.
So this guy wants it to look like I'm crazy.
Sure, no problem. I do a great crazy.
It's Mickey!
Can we talk for just a sec?
H... hey!
I saw that. Open this door, right now.
Oh, you think you can hide from me?
Well, I've got news for you: you can't.
And... and one more piece of news:
- I will hunt you down! - Ma'am, I don't think he's home.
Oh, he's home. He is home.
- I am not crazy! - I can give him a message for you.
I'll give him a message.
There you are, bro. I've been looking everywhere for you.
Oh, yeah? Well, I've been in the gym. Getting swole.
We got to roll. Now.
- Where we going? - Parking lot.
Some dudes from South Greenwich heard you were talking smack.
They want to fight you.
Th... they want to fight me? How many are there?
I don't know, like six.
You can handle that, though, right?
Y... yeah. T... totally. Six?
Wish there were seven.
I have this thing where I have to beat people in odd numbers, so...
Let's go.
You wanted to... Ugh.
Uh, Mr. Reed, please have a seat.
- Look, I don't know what she told you... - He said have a seat, Brian.
Ms. Molng here has just been sharing some troubling accusations.
Uh, she claims that you engaged in...
That there was a...
Sex. "Sex" is the word you're looking for.
Plus all the dirty lead-up stuff.
- He does this thing with your ears. It's... - Tha... that's...
- I... I don't need details. - It just goes on for too long.
- That's all I was gonna say. - Mr. Reed, is this true?
Did you engage in a sexual relationship with Ms. Molng?
Yes.
- I mean, technically it's true. - Finally.
Finally, he admits it.
- This is so embarrassing. - Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
Do not do that. I am the one who is embarrassed, all right?
Ashamed, even.
Obviously, this is a problem, Brian.
Well, I didn't know who she was.
I was at my other job, she approached me,
we started talking, it just happened.
Wait, you didn't know she was a Lockwood parent?
No, of course not.
And none of this happened on school property?
No, she targeted me at work.
Wha... Well, I'm not sure that any of this is illegal.
Okay, I'll give you that. That... that... that, technically,
that was all by the book.
But this man is a predator
- Wh... ? - And also,
he will not admit to Sabrina that we had sex.
Uh, nor should he. I... I'm on his side there.
You know what? In fact, Brian,
you are free to go.
- Thank you. - What?! Oh, sure.
Yeah, yeah. Course he's free to go.
'Cause this whole education system is just
- one big boys club, isn't it? - Well, actually,
76% of teachers in America are female, so you're...
Oh, thank you for mansplaining that for me, Gibbons.
Guess what? I will not be bullied into silence.
You know, uh, speaking of bullying,
we need to have a small chat about Ben.
He has been physically assaulting students
that he has deemed...
- "losers." - Doesn't sound like my Ben.
Well, maybe you don't know your Ben as well as you think you do.
The good news is that he wants to make it right,
so he has volunteered to read an anti-bullying poem
in our school's Arts Fest.
Great. Perfect punishment. Poems suck.
'Sup, 48?
Hey, nice belt buckle.
All right, screw this.
Thank you, thank you, girls.
Thank you so very much.
Up next, we have one of our youngest poets,
Ben Pemberton, who will be reciting a poem
about the dangers of bullying.
"Black Eyes" by Ben Pemberton.
"Black eyes are cool, black eyes rule,
but black eyes don't belong at our school.
Black eyes look scary, but black eyes are fun.
I really wish that I could have one."
Okay, thank you. Thank you, Ben. Thank you.
For your poem on... on why black eyes
are bad. Black eyes was the...
Next up, uh, Ben's older sister, Sabrina.
Thank you for helping me recognize my gift.
I wrote this for you.
Oh, uh... thank you.
Good luck.
"Baggage" by Sabrina Pemberton.
"I am a handbag.
Empty. Expensive.
Carried places I don't want to go.
But then you came,
and rifled through my pockets like a gentle thief.
Now I'm ready. Unzip me.
- Place things inside me." - I had sex with Mr. Reed.
Ah, nah. That's right.
This creep not only teaches girls how to write terrible poetry,
he also lies to their faces about sleeping with their aunt.
But I got the receipts.
I will hunt you down!
- I don't think he's home. - Whoops, hold on. One...
Give me one sec. That's, uh, wrong part.
He is home. I am not crazy!
Well... He was home
throughout this entire exchange, mind you.
- Okay, the... No, no, they... - No, no, no, I'm...
- That's good enough. I think... - Hey, hey, hey! Stop. Hey. Stop.
I'll be done in a second. Just give me...
You guys just hang in there for one...
It's right here. It's right here.
Mr. Reed, did you engage
in a sexual relationship with Ms. Molng?
Yes.
Yes. Yes.
Are you serious? You actually slept with her?
I thought you were just waiting till I graduated to make a move.
We had something.
I just wanted to teach you some poetry.
- Ugh. - If there are any other victims,
please come forward and hold hands.
- We are stronger together. - No...
Oh, no, no, no.
I didn't... I didn't sleep with that guy. No.
The... the handspring is separate from that.
49? That makes no sense.
Makes perfect sense.
Even Aaron Luber is higher than me, and he eats bugs.
Okay, how do I explain this to you?
Doing a handspring in the Olympics,
or to escape danger, is cool.
But just doing it out of nowhere, unannounced? Not cool.
But I stuck the landing perfectly.
Yeah, that's the worst part, man.
Maybe if you'd biffed the landing and eaten your teeth, it'd be funny.
But instead you did it with perfect precision?
That's weird.
I don't get it.
Yeah, you probably never will.
Maybe if you write a poem it will make you cool again.
- I wouldn't recommend it. - Yeah, poetry's not in our blood.
I see that now. Plus, there's no real future in it.
- Wha... I thought Mr. Reed said... - Mr. Reed's an idiot.
His credibility went out the window
the second I realized he wasn't trying to bang me.
Plus, he resigned.
I'm not gonna take advice from some coffee jockey.
Boom. Read it and weep.
According to this restraining order,
I can't come within a thousand yards of Mr. Reed
because of emotional distress due to, and I quote,
"deeply regrettable sexual intercourse." Huh?
It's on the record, okay? So who's crazy now?
Way to go, Mick.
That's my girl.
Wait, what?
- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -
Unzip me.