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No...
No! No! I've been burgled!
My Spring Harvest Classic!
The jewel of my basket collection
has been taken!
My basket!
I'm sorry, sug. To me it's just a container to hold things.
Just a container?
I'll tell you what this basket contains:
unconditional love.
Would you like some soda, Basket?
I would love some soda.
Thanks, Dale. I love you.
Okay, sug, whatever you say.
I just wish you wouldn't spend so much money on these things.
Do you have any idea how expensive our bills are?!
Maybe you should think about getting another job.
I mean, if an exterminator doesn't kill any bugs,
or make any money, does he even have a job?
I'm an exterminator, Nancy.
It's in my bones!
I think it got in through my lungs.
I don't know what to do!
At this point, Dale's just taking up space in the house,
like a lamp that eats and smokes
and buys stuff on the Internet.
I tried to convince him to get another job, but...
But nothing.
Dale should go on a vocation vacation.
A what...?
Uh, Peggy, whatever it is you're talking about,
it sounds like a Gribble family matter.
I am apparently in the most coveted advertising demographic,
because I am always finding these opportunities
under my windshield wiper.
All you have to do
is send Dale on a vacation,
and he'll come back with a new vocation.
Unless the vacation is to a dank basement
with a bunch of weird crap in it, Dale won't go.
He will if Hank makes him.
I'm not going, Peggy. No way.
The Gribbles are financially treading water, Hank.
And when they drown, where do you think they're gonna come?
Everyone always comes to us.
Yep, you'll wake up in the morning and there's Dale.
You go to the bathroom, and...
There's Dale!
You're eating breakfast...
And, oh, my God, there's Dale!
And I have to warn you,
Joseph's going through a "finding himself" phase,
and it's taking him to some pretty weird places.
Fine.
Cement factory?
Wow, they're never open to the public.
And look, I could decommission a submarine.
You know, some of these don't sound that bad.
Yep.
Look out, everybody.
There's a new, fat, lonely sheriff in town.
As a robust, balding man,
I've tried every hat there is:
fedora, newsboy, the porkpie.
I know how much you hated the porkpie.
But this is the hat that's gonna stick.
So, Dale, fill in the blank.
"Dale and Hank are going to spend a week working--
A) in the pit crew,
B) as fishing guides,
or C) as brew masters."
There really is no wrong answer.
While I like the Dale and Hank part,
I don't like the part about learning.
Come on, Dale.
It could be fun, and, who knows, when you come back,
you might be able to support your family.
Fine, Hank, I'll go!
Geez. Give me these. I'll look 'em over,
make a decision, and sign us up.
Come on, pit crew...
or fishing guide...
or brew master.
when you get back,
there's nothing sexier than a breadwinner.
Now let me take one last, final look at unskilled Dale!
Quit being so secretive, Dale.
What did you sign us up for?
Well, I was going to wait and surprise you,
but since you asked...
I found something that I've always wanted to do,
but never let myself believe was possible.
Basket weaving.
Basket weaving?!
What?! No!
I, I didn't even see basket weaving in the pamphlet.
It's because you weren't looking
in the Arts and Crafts section.
Of course I wasn't!
Oh, God!
Just think, when I return,
I will be a full-fledged basket-teer.
I owe it all to you, Hank.
And to a lesser and more sexual extent, my wife.
* Oh, I love baskets *
* Baskets, baskets, baskets... *
Whoa...
It's beautiful, Hank.
It's like I've died and gone here.
Someday, Dale, I will ask you for a favor,
and I will remind you of this day,
and you will do me that favor.
Hello. I'm Charles.
This is my wife Sharon.
Vocationers.
We've been innkeepers in New England,
wine makers in Napa,
and most recently, chocolatiers in Hershey.
But enough about Chuck and Shay-Shay
and our vida fabuloso.
How about I introduce you to the others?
That's Megan.
She's Charles' daughter.
Not mine, though.
Hi. I'm Kitty.
Are you guys as excited about weaving as me?
No. But he is.
Hank cares little about baskets.
He is merely a facilitator.
Like a goat that keeps a racehorse calm.
I am the basket-weaving racehorse.
Welcome to your
Hooper Basket Factory vocation.
We hope this is an experience you'll never forget.
This is your itinerary.
While here, you will be expected to be on time,
work your full shifts, learn and master weaves,
and meet daily quotas.
Yes, I have a question!
I find it
interesting that pockets were derived from baskets
and were originally called "pants baskets."
That wasn't a question.
Next on the schedule, a tour of the facility.
Follow me.
This is Griffin Hooper,
basket visionary and founder of this factory.
They once called me a young Hooper...
until I lost my hand
saving my platoon from a grenade attack.
What a waste.
If you want to weave, this is where you start paying the price
in tears, sweat, and fiber cuts.
Vocationers, today you'll be making a casserole basket,
using a summer blossom weave.
Huh. Bent tip and needle-nose pliers.
I didn't realize we'd be using so many different tools.
But, of course, it's not the tools that matter,
but the gifted hand that weaves it.
We'll see.
And, Mr. Gribble, we have an expression
"Weave it, don't say it."
You have four hours.
Ma'am.
That right there.
That why Europe hate us.
Oh! Holy Mackerel!
I can't believe what I just experienced!
That the most amazing thing I ever seen.
It was a miracle! A hat miracle!
I missed the time the Wienermobile drove by, but I saw that!
Yeah, man, like that dang ol' Freaky Friday or something, man.
We gotta do this again and video tape it for Internet.
This gonna make us immortal!
I've always wanted to be immortal!
Gribble, present basket.
This is... terrible.
We've had monkeys in here who have weaved better...
and by monkeys, I mean high school students.
I appreciate the constructive criticism, sir.
Now this is a basket.
Great weave, tight scalloping.
Talk to us about your creative process.
Well, I just took your materials and tools and the time allotted,
and this is what I came up with.
There was nothing creative about it.
You, you, you and you,
have all met the daily quotas and are dismissed.
Hank, you are dismissed with extreme admiration.
And, Gribble...
I just don't know what to say.
You must stay until you finish whatever you are... doing there.
Hank, I apologize that Brubaker got you so entwined
in this student-teacher passion play of ours.
See, he's motivating me
by withholding praise from me and giving it to you.
It's quite brilliant, really.
If I had a dollar for every time somebody praised me
to motivate somebody else...
Hey, that was a pretty nice gust.
Why's your hat still on?
Maybe your head even fatter now than before.
Maybe.
Damn it! I'm never going to be Internet sensation.
Oh, are you boys still at it?
You are trying to capture lightning in a bottle.
Do you know how hard that is?
Really hard.
That is why I am going to help you.
Give me the video camera.
If this turns out as well as Bobby's baby videos,
you are all going to be stars.
It's true.
Her movie Bobby Learns to Crawl inspired me to walk.
Peggy Hill, we in your strong, manly hands!
Mold us!
Kitty, wonderful wisteria.
Charles, great lashings.
Sharon, your splice is perfect.
Gribble, you are done weaving.
There is nothing more I can teach you.
Go sweep up basket droppings.
Sweep?!
Gotcha.
You're breaking me so you can remake me.
Excellent.
Well, it's not perfect.
I wanted to have a little worm wearing a sombrero
coming out of the "O."
That only took you an hour and ten minutes.
Hank, we've got a huge order to fill
from Crabtree & Evelyn.
A couple of weavers aren't feeling well.
You know, all these women working together
in close quarters.
Things line up.
Monthly things.
Don't make me say it, Hank.
The thing is,
we could use you on the line.
Well, yeah, sure, if that's the assignment.
Work the line?
I've never seen any vocationer called to work
with the real workers.
Congratulations, Hank!
Huh.
That's odd.
Thanks for helping out, Hank.
It really takes some of the pressure off.
Basket weavers are second only to postal workers
in suicides and workplace assaults.
Anytime I can contribute
to a "Made in America" label, I'm on board.
You know, we're, uh, always looking for permanent help.
Permanent help?!
You know who'd be great for the job?
Dale.
He's a hard worker, loves baskets.
He'd be perfect.
Yes!
Sure, we'll hire Dale.
You know what else I've been meaning to do, Hank?
Could you cut off my other hand?
Huh.
How could that be constructive criticism?
He doesn't even know I'm eavesdropping.
Dale'll get there, just... just give him a chance.
Maybe we should hire Gribble.
One of our biggest customer complaints is
that our baskets aren't crappy enough.
Now, come on.
Dale is a very good...
uh, well, he...
uh...
the guy can't weave.
There, I said it.
Hank...?!
Yeah. I'd rather use a sack
than one of Dale's baskets.
A sack!
I'm sorry, Griffin.
My rage was directed at you
and it should've been directed at Hank.
It's Hank who's trying to destroy my reputation!
It's Hank who's standing between me and my dream job!
Yes, yes, I see!
Even in painting form, you are wise!
If I want the job, I'll have to eliminate Hank.
Take that.
And that.
Hey!
What the...?
You double-crossing, basket weaving...
What the hell, Dale?
Dale?!
What the heck are you doing, Dale?
I'm trying to kill you!
Kill me?! Why?!
How about because you were making fun of me!
How about because there's a job opening,
and if I eliminate you, it would be mine!
What?! That's crazy!
Oh, so you weren't mocking me?
I shouldn't have done that, Dale.
I just got caught up with what everyone was saying
because it was so true.
You're supposed to be my friend, Hank.
But when I opened the door,
you slithered right in and took what's mine.
I don't even want the job, Dale.
And I hate to tell you this,
but even if you had killed me,
you still wouldn't have gotten the job.
What if I also killed Charles and Sharon?
No.
And then killed Kitty.
Would I get the job then?
But that only leaves Megan.
Megan?!
Megan's better than me?!
I was supposed to come here and learn a new skill
that I could use to help support my family.
I was gonna be a basket maker.
I'm a failure.
Remember when we used to watch TV on TV?
This is so much cooler.
Bill's Hat Flies Onto Kahn's Head."
That's terrible!
So, we add filmmaking
to the list of things Peggy Hill can't do.
Right after cooking
and wearing open-toed shoes.
I never thought I'd say this,
but I'm a little... embarrassed.
Look! Someone else watched it!
Hey! Hey! Four hits!
I think we viral!
Now we wait for the parodies.
Uh, Mr. Brubaker,
I just wanted to turn in our tools.
Dale and I are leaving early.
Hank, you can't leave.
There's still baskets to be made.
There are always baskets to be made.
Look, I only came here to support my friend,
and he just tried to kill me with a forklift.
Not everyone has the gift of weaving.
It would be a tragedy
for a person with your talent to stop weaving,
just as it would be a tragedy for Gribble to continue.
Well, if there was some way to give Dale his dignity back,
I'd gladly stay and help out.
What if I found something for Gribble to do?
Can he organize the Secret Santa? I hate doing that.
The closest thing he's ever been good at is killing bugs.
Well, we don't need an exterminator.
Ever since we lost the entire spring '87 line
to the Bamboo Boring Beetle,
we've been spraying with the highest-grade poisons allowed.
Which reminds me,
you should take your 15-minute breaks outside,
as much as possible.
What if the beetles came back?
So, uh, you say
you got a tainted shipment of wicker?
Yes, it's crawling
with the Bamboo Boring Beetle.
If we don't get this taken care of,
we'll have the biggest basket shortage since,
uh... wicker was needed for the war effort?
That damn beetle took my Easter basket
when I was a kid.
It knows no mercy.
I had to put my eggs in a shoe.
Well, Dale, you're the only exterminator here.
Don't you want to save
the baskets you love so much
for some reason?
I'm gonna take on the beetles!
And this time, I'm not gonna use a forklift,
I'm gonna use poison, like I should've done with Hank.
S'go!
Attention, weavers!
Put your tools down
and step away from your baskets.
This factory has been infestated
by the voracious Bamboo Boring Beetle.
Please, do not panic.
Oh, my God!
This is cigar rolling all over again!
Don't worry, Dale is a professional exterminator.
He's gonna take care of everything.
I see, I see... I can't see them.
Thank God, they're still in their larva state.
There's still time. We're gonna have to burn 'em out.
I haven't felt this safe since my divorce.
You didn't say anything about fire.
It'll be fine.
If not, I'll weave the entire spring line for you.
First, we need some baskets to use as bait.
You two, pile some in that corner.
Use mine, 'cause they suck.
Now, everybody stand back
and cover your two favorite orifices.
This'll cut off their escape route.
We got 'em cornered!
Time to assassinate.
Women and small men, look away.
You do not want my nightmares.
Adieu.
Nice job.
Thank you, Dale.
You've saved the factory.
As a token of my appreciation,
I present you with the,
uh...
Basket of Honor.
Wow, that was cool.
You get to kill all the time?
And, like, it's legal?
You wear a jumpsuit to work every day? Whew!
Imagine the time I'd save in the morning.
An exterminator is like a garbage man
crossed with a scientist--
the best of both worlds.
I'd be interested to hear more about it.
Really?
How interested?
...on this vocation vacation you will learn a lot about bugs,
a lot about poisons, but most of all, a lot about killing.
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