That's when it hit me
like a ton of bricks...
bricks might be hard,
but growin' up is harder.
Like a super-hard brick.
Thank you!
What's wrong with me?
I should have put bricks in my story.
Klaus, relax.
Your story has nothing to do with bricks.
- It's about a brick layer! - It is?
Next on stage... Klaus Heisler!
When I was 10, all I wanted to be
was a wall-building guy like my grandpa.
He would stack these...
eh, you know, they... they go on each other,
but never right on top?
They'd be like this and this and then here and here...
Why are you telling stories?
Eh, this is a storytelling event.
Are you Mother Goose?
Okay, I'm going to continue.
Continue boring everyone?
Eh, no one's bored.
I'm actually pretty bored.
Then get the fuck out!
Sir, the bathrooms are located in the back.
Why are you taking a dump on stage?
Not bored anymore!
Nothing but junk mail.
Letter from Francine's mom, biopsy results,
cease and desist... it came!
It came! It came!
Francine, a reply from the Bazooka Sharks!
Don't move! I'm headin' your way!
- Eee! - What's this now?
Your father and I wrote a letter to Bazooka Sharks' management
outlining our concerns and suggestions
for the future of the franchise.
Okay. Moment of truth.
I love you, baby.
"Dear Sharks fans,
thank you for your interest in the team."
Hell yeah! Great start.
"We appreciate your passion and continued support,
and hope for a better result next season."
Go on.
That's... That's it.
Are you guys okay?
I know you can go a little cuckoo over your beloved Sharks.
Okay. Good.
Just... checking.
Good morning, everybody.
Well, look who it is... Mother Goose.
Get your cocoa and blankies, everyone.
It's story time.
My blankie's in the dryer!
Oh, you want a story? Here's one.
It's about an insignificant grey douchebag
who ruins his friend's storytelling event.
Roommate's storytelling event.
Face it, Roger. You're just a hater.
You have no real talent.
Sure, you know how to tear down,
but you can't create.
I can create.
My personas?
Masks.
Costumes.
You don't have the balls to put yourself out there like me,
to risk ridicule contributing
something meaningful to the world.
This is a brutal takedown.
Deep down, you are a coward.
Wha...
That's not...
Guys?
Room for one more?
This letter sucked.
It didn't address a single one of our points.
And we had a lot of good ones.
It's like they're obsessed with the forward pass.
Why? It's so risky.
Whatever happened to establishing the run?
To smashmouth football?
To ground and pound, baby!
I'll tell you what happened... analytics.
Moneyball.
Nerds.
We don't need eggheads.
We need leatherheads, Stan.
I know that, my queen,
but the bean counters runnin' the show don't.
Well, maybe we need to make them understand.
Ground and pound them.
Oh, yeah! Let's smash 'em!
Yeah! Kill 'em?
No. Smash their corporate offices.
Okay!
How?
My friend Nerfer's got an armor-plated bulldozer!
- Oh... - Oh, yeah!
It's been a while since we've done this, Klaus...
watched TV together in total silence.
It's nice.
Klaus, about yesterday...
No, let me go first.
You were a huge dick at my reading,
but I was very hard on you.
- It's okay. - No, no, please.
I owe you an apology.
But I'm only going to give you the apologetic tone...
because I'm not sorry.
Thank you for the tone. It's more than I deserve.
I thought about it, and you were right.
You have the courage to put yourself out there
in a way I never do.
- Here. - What is it?
It's me putting myself out there.
Just open it. God!
It's... beautiful.
- Steve, look. - It is good.
But is it better than being quiet and watching TV?
I don't know.
What's good, my man?
Oh, say, where can we find the corporate offices?
Do you want to do something bad to them?
With your Killdozer?
Once sec.
- No? - In that case,
here's the address.
Their offices are in South Dakota.
Oof. That's a schlep.
- Big time. - You wanna call off the rampage?
Does this answer your question?!
Killdozer rampage still on!
Yeah!
Roger?
In the back! Through my secret door!
What is this place?
In the '40s, it was a button factory.
Now? My art studio.
You made this?
I had no idea. You're an artist.
Well, I don't know about "artist."
I'm... I'm just dabblin'.
- Goofin', really. - Goofin'?
It's incredible.
The weathered gills, the pain in the eyes.
It's a window to my soul.
That's what I was going for.
Is that a painting of me?
They're all you, Klaus.
You are my muse.
Oh, shit.
♪
- Family announcement! - Family announcement!
- Where is everyone? - I don't know.
Something about establishing the run. What's up?
Roger's an artist, and I'm his muse!
Oh. Mazel tov.
Well, the important thing is the world needs to see your art.
You're doing a gallery opening.
As if.
Who'd be interested in my silly little scribbles?
Prolly no one.
I sold all my art!
A toast to everyone who made
my first gallery opening a success.
Of course, Hovek... beautiful Hovek...
for providing such a dynamic space.
Carl, a man I met just moments ago...
Hello?
Aren't you gonna mention your muse?
Klaus, zip it. Go back to the muse table.
There's no muse table.
What? But artists need to quaff wine
and belly laugh together,
far from the din of their simpering muses.
- Have one set up. - Me?
Just get it done!
Look at him, sucking the marrow out of life.
And I'm sitting here like a schmuck.
Why would he treat me like this?
Oh, listen to you.
Isn't it enough to be a part of something artistic,
something meaningful?
You're right.
I should be thanking Roger.
Hey!
Why am I hearing the muse table?
I'm trying to tell a ribald anecdote over here!
Sorry. Now, how far did I get?
We got the priest,
we got the urinating up and down the back,
we got my great joke.
"Christening? More like pissening."
Maybe that's it.
Maybe that's the whole thing.
Another home-run story in the books.
We are rampagin'.
Hayley, toss me another 5-Hour Energy.
My rage is dipping.
Maybe it would help if I read the letter again?
- Yes. - Great idea.
"Dear Sharks fans."
Those motherfu...
We must rise and attack the day, my friend.
The world wants our art.
You're the dumbest person of all time.
What? We sold every painting.
And now I have to come up with new paintings.
Earth to tortured artist.
It's your muse talking, ready to inspire.
But not ready to cook me breakfast, apparently.
I have access to Fig Newtons.
Fig Newtons are good.
I forget that sometimes.
Well, you have a lot on your mind.
Eh, not really. But let's work.
Sorry, I just need a sec.
Hold that pose, though. It's perfect.
What the hell?
Had to run out and get some more Newtons.
BRB. Do not move.
The life of a muse.
This is fucking ridiculous.
What do you think of this dance?
Ba-da.
Ba-da-da-da-ba.
- Kick the salad. - Roger!
What the hell are you doing here?!
What am I doing here?
You kept me in that damn chair for six hours!
Paramours, take five while I deal with this guy.
"This guy"?
I'm your muse! Your inspiration!
And what do you do?
You abuse me, treat me like a dog.
We were supposed to work, damn it!
Is this what you want, Klaus?!
Is this what you want?!
It is what I want.
That's why I just gave you all the money.
Stop yelling at me.
Sorry! That's my fault.
I made him mad back at the bistro.
Forget about the bistro.
Let's take a beach stroll, maybe have a beefstro.
That's what I call beef stroganoff.
- Seagull. - Majestic birds.
Not the most majestic, though, Klaus.
I wasn't suggesting.
It's fine. It's fine. Just... Just be careful.
Eat your stroge.
You changed my life, Roger.
And you, mine, Klaus.
Your brutal takedown was the nudge I needed
to finally put myself out there.
Your paintings... they move people.
Our paintings.
Thank you.
I'm finally a part of something meaningful.
You saw the real me.
That I did do.
I guess I feel a little less lonely
on this big orb they call Earth.
Who calls it that?
Everyone?
I call it Gaia.
But I'm a special person. An artist.
I was hoping we could also talk process.
I was thinking maybe there's a way
for me to feel less like shit at the end of every day.
There is, and that's actually why I brought you out here...
to tell you you're fired.
- You're fired. - What?
- Why? - Let's go alphabetically.
"A" is for albatross.
You're an albatross around my neck.
"B" is for bore. You bore me.
That's an easy one.
"P" for puke-inducing,
"Q" for quick-to-make-me-barf, "R" for rascal.
Well, that's... that's the one thing I do like about you.
You're kind of a rascal.
You fired Klaus?!
Yeah, but not for reals.
Just to break his heart.
It's all part of my process.
Your process?
Yeah, I torture Klaus, crush his spirit,
and then paint his sad face.
Rinse, repeat.
How long have you been doing this?
Oh, gosh. Years?
Probably since day one, yeah.
You've been torturing me?
Ruining my life for paintings?!
And sculpture and mixed media.
Stop motion's on the horizon.
Perhaps a line of puppets?
Why would you do this?
For my art, dummy!
It comes only from pain... your pain.
I can't take this anymore.
I hope I never see you again!
Wait, Klaus!
Yes?
That's gonna make an amazing puppet.
♪
Look, no one's saying me or my work has suffered
from not having a muse, but the times,
they are a-changing... Oswaldo,
and they require an experienced muse.
I have never done this before.
Go ahead and get naked, Oswaldo.
Right here? In Coffee Bean?
It's fine. I'm an artist.
Unfortunately, I won't be able to pay you to start.
Business is slow.
You can thank my old muse for that.
- What did he do? - Ruined my art.
Destroyed my life.
Toxic guy, Oswaldo.
My only solace is knowing wherever he is now,
he's miserable, too.
Let's go, people! Get 'em while they're hot.
Gluten-free for m'lady,
and chocolate-chip for my man Brandon in the house!
Yes!
Where did you even come from, Klaus Heisler?
Mwah! Hey, when I get home,
we're gonna tackle that algebra.
- Deal? - Deal.
♪
How we lookin' on that Tuscan Grilled Chicken, Shaneese?
- It's close, boss. - Love it.
Are we having fun?
- Yes! - Yes!
And remember...
It's only paninis!
Mother Goose?
Roger? What are you doing here?
Me? What about you?
Well, I work here, at Panera Bread.
I'm actually the manager.
Still pursuing your storytelling?
Nah. Between work and Denise and Brandon,
I don't have time.
"Denise and Brandon"?
Who am I talkin' to, Ward Cleaver?
Right?
All I need now is a basset hound to bring me my slippers.
Too funny.
So, what are you up to these days?
Still doin' my art thang, so that's been good.
Really jammin' on that.
Also doing a lot more heroin
than when we were working together,
which has been nice.
Well, I better get back in there.
Yeah, no, I should probably do this heroin.
- It was good bumping into you. - For sure, yeah.
Hey, if you ever get that muse itch,
swing by the studio.
Yeah, I probably won't be by...
Yeah, probably best.
I don't want the studio to smell like a Panera.
Have a good life, Roger.
Havin' one, my dude.
Oh, it's spaghetti night
And the feeling's right
Oh, it's spaghetti night, oh, what a night
Klaus, I need you back!
Is this your friend from the Dumpster?
Brava, Denise.
You've got it all figured out, don't ya?
Well, did you know I was gonna bring this plastic sword?!
I'm calling the police.
Pastor Mike did say
to look for opportunities to bear witness.
Roger, why don't you join us?
Oh. Oh, I bet you'd like that.
You'd just love to see me choke
on Denise's shitty meatballs.
This guy hates me.
Not true. I want to thank you.
You set me free.
Oh, free to get your balls cut off by Denise here?
I'm aware of you, Denise, just as you are of me.
My whole life, I thought I was a miserable guy.
Worse, I thought I brought it all on myself.
Turns out, it was you.
What's your point, Aesop?
Aesop tells fables, Denise.
I never had a chance to be happy.
You were sabotaging me!
Can we just cut the bull and get back to work, Klaus?
Don't you see? I'm finally happy.
What about "meaning"?
This guy is so horny for meaning.
I found meaning, with these two whackadoos,
and all the lives I touch at Panera.
Enough! I can't stand to look at you one second more.
So, with my dignity intact, I will now take my leave.
Forever!
Oh, God! Oh, no!
Oh, I'm doing both kinds of bathroom!
Denise, what kind of flooring we dealin' with?
If it's linoleum, bring the hose in here.
In the meantime, gather anything absorbent...
beach towels, bath towels, shop rags.
Oh, if you have a shop, sawdust would be a godsend.
That's perfect world. I could make cotton balls work.
Now, we do need someone to take the lead on ventilation...
opening doors, windows, gathering fans.
- I can do that. - Brandon.
Way to step up.
Everybody look at Brandon.
♪
There it is!
Ramming speed!
The Sharks won the Megabowl?
Yeah. Hey, you're Stan Smith.
May... maybe not.
You're famous here!
We took another look at your letter
and realized you were right.
Smashmouth football was the key to our undefeated season.
You listened to us?
So rampage over?
But no rampage.
But Killdozer need to eat.
Welp, I'll leave you to it, then.
Go, Sharks!
Go, Sharks.
♪
Honey. Check out Roger.
You were skeptical when he reached out,
but he looks like a new man.
Thank you all for coming.
First, I'd like to give a shout-out to my sponsor, Mark.
30 days sober thanks to that amazing human.
I'd also like to acknowledge Klaus Heisler over there.
Klaus was my muse, but I hurt him.
I thought great art came only from pain,
but beauty isn't born from misery alone.
There's also the wellspring of joy.
You taught me that, Klaus.
You continue to inspire me.
Thank you.
And now, art.
Feast your eyes on my greatest masterpiece.
Spaghetti Night!
Woof.
This one's a dog.
Oh! Spaghetti Night!
Pretty awesome, right?
The eyes.
- They're dead. - They're meatballs!
I think it's cool because it's a statue of you... Dad.
You're an imbecile, Brandon.
Klaus!
There's no depth, no pathos.
It sucks!
I'm not this corny-ass Mr. Rogers.
Oh. That's a quarter for the swear jar, Klaus.
Here's 50 cents. Go buy some new tits!
Excuse me?!
You did this to me! We're finished!
Brandon, why did you even bring a football?!
It's an art gallery! I hate you!
I hate you!
I hate myself!
There he is!
There's the Klaus I know and love!
I knew the misery
was still inside you!
You obviously didn't know when
you squeezed out this turd.
Oh, didn't I?
It's me.
The real me.
Thank you, Roger.
I am your muse, now and forever.
Yes! We're back, old friend!
But about that... we're not back.
I've given up art to follow my true passion...
doing heroin.
We're back, old friend!
Denise?
She headed out.
Dad, this was a great idea.
Well, it would have been a shame
making the thousand-mile journey home
without rampaging something.
Feast, Killdozer! Feast!
Why?
Then again, why not?
Have a great night!