New York City. Ever heard of it?
♪ Uh-huh, yeah ♪
♪ Yeah ♪
That's me walking.
I'm Petey, a girl with a boy's name,
so you're allowed to like me.
My days are filled with typical New York stuff:
getting a coffee on my way to coffee,
therapy, more therapy, therapy again,
jaywalking to a museum,
avoiding the train piss bottle,
looking relieved yet somber
as a giant monster is murdered,
and, of course, Broadway.
I had it all, the perfect job
as a senior assistant editorial assistant
at the biggest fashion magazine in Midtown.
Mm, good clothes, bad clothes, good clothes, bad clothes.
Well, time for lunch.
Sure, I'd been an assistant for eight years,
but they let me take home the stale bagels
at the end of the day. Girl boss!
We need to pick a page.
If only we knew which was going to be in this month,
shirt or pants. Any ideas?
- Shirt covers the top! - Pants cover the bottom!
Jumpsuit covers both.
What, me? I didn't say anything.
Ugh.
Sure, I've spent my whole life
terrified of speaking up
because of a complete lack of sense of self,
but who knows?
Maybe that's what landed me the perfect fiancé.
He was the best man New York had to offer.
God, you make sense on paper.
Oh, my God, Brian, not here.
God.
I guess you could say I had it all:
a man, a job, and an apartment.
Wait, that's three things.
I guess you could say I had three things,
and none of them will ever completely fall apart.
My whole life was perfect,
but none of it was ever enough for my socialite mother,
White St. Barts.
She runs a charity for unwed dogs.
Ms. St. Barts, your daughter is here to see you.
What on earth is a daughter?
It's like a son but a girl.
This generation has a word for everything.
I can't keep up.
Hi, Mother.
I brought you an expensive yet meaningful pastry
from the bakery we used to go to
when I was little.
How thoughtful.
Now, what is it you want from me,
money, a lawyer?
If it's an apology you're after,
I'd prefer to just write a check.
- You called me, Mother. - Right, of course.
I called you here because there's a wedding
I have to go to next month that I'm absolutely dreading.
- Oh, Mother, that's... - I know, I know.
Why not just send a cold gift with my regrets?
Mother.
The only reason I'm going
is that I'm the mother of the bride.
Oh, right, that's you.
Um, here. - What's this?
I wanted to pretend I had a gift,
but it's actually the VHS tape I've been hiding from you.
Honestly, it's the worst thing I could have possibly grabbed.
Well, now that you're holding it,
it's a message from your father.
I have a father?
Well, not anymore. He's dead.
- I have a dead father? - I'll get my checkbook.
Dearest, sweetest, loveliest Petra,
It's me, your father!
Yeah, I'm sorry I wasn't around much
when you were growing up, you know,
but I was busy working on something so cool,
and if you're watching this, that means two things:
I'm dead, and now that cool thing is all yours.
The community of New Utopia...
West Carolina.
Wow, what a nice town I made.
Go get it.
There you go.
Now, I know you're a city girl. I do.
I was a city boy myself. We have that in common.
Yeah, there's only one problem, I'm not a city boy anymore.
I'm a country old man.
Okay, now once you grow up,
I'm sure you'll be a decisive, opinionated,
brave, confident leader just like your daddy,
and once I'm gone, the only person
who can keep this place going is you
because you're the only me that's younger.
Does it... does that make sense?
Does it make sense?
We need fresh blood around here.
We love you, Petey!
Yeah, look at them! They love you!
Whoa.
Security, there's some random woman in my office.
Tonight on "Hot People Over-Sharing
Their Trauma and Then Kissing"...
My mom got really sick.
My dad exploded.
Wow, a whole town or whatever?
That's a dope inheritance. Are you gonna take it?
No way.
What about my job, my apartment?
And what about Brian? He can't leave now.
He just got a big raise.
Well, what if you went out for a little bit?
Just to test it out.
You could get to know about your dad
and touch a cow.
I mean, maybe you'll like living in the country
and not getting married to Brian.
Wait a minute. What's on your lip?
That?
It's... oh. - Oh, my God.
A splinter? That means...
Oh, God.
Brian? With my best friend?
- It's not what it looks like. - This cannot be happening.
You know there's no good guys in New York.
I mean, what woman could say no to him?
I am done with both of you.
My female boss.
We just got the numbers
from the magazine we published today.
The one on shirt?
They're the worst we've ever had.
Turns out the answer was jumpsuit.
Ugh, but I said that.
No, you whispered it under your breath,
then called yourself dumb, then you did a little shimmy.
Oof, did I say the dumb part out loud?
I'm dumb.
I'm sorry, Petey.
We have a zero-tolerance policy
for women calling themselves dumb.
You're fired.
No!
My apartment!
Sorry, I knocked over every candle.
Ugh.
Wait, Petey, stop. Where are you going?
Taxi!
Taxi to the South!
I was feeling really sad
after my whole life literally burned down.
I just needed to lay low for a while
and figure out my next move in my dead dad's weird town.
Ugh.
Ugh, no service.
This is not New York. Oh!
Uh, I'm walking here.
Oh, ugh.
No, not my tiny shoe.
Hello, hot redneck.
Hello, hot redneck?
- Name's Bandit. - Could you help me?
I'm stuck in this... This brown cement.
I'll save you from that there mud...
It's called mud... On one condition.
Uh, okay.
- You turn tail and get. - I what?
You take that caboose and vamoose.
A moose and "jaboose." What?
I'm saying you better go back where you came from.
You are being so mean for no reason.
Don't you know who I am?
You are Petey St. Barts, and I will die on my feet
like a horse before I let you ruin that town
like your daddy did.
Excuse me, rude hunk,
I can do whatever I want with that town
because my dad gave it to me in a video,
and I am not gonna let some uneducated,
square state, backwoods nobody push me around.
Wowie, all right then. Suit yourself.
But you should know,
your town has a little gator problem.
Oh, God.
Please help me. - Hey, it's your town.
You figure it out.
Okay, fine, I'll leave on the next bus.
Just help me.
Shake on it? - Ugh, fine.
Just make it quick and not on my hair.
Oh, no, not what I was going for.
Ah! Oh.
Gary.
Go get it, Gary!
Mm.
Thank you, but as I learned in my many years
as a senior assistant editorial assistant,
that contract is not binding because I didn't open it
on my phone, agree to terms and conditions
I never read, and then press okay
to a signature that looks nothing like mine.
But we spit shook. You snake!
Can you help me get a ride to my town?
Help you?
I wouldn't help you with a ten-foot pole.
But I'm a Southern gentleman,
so I can't just leave you out here all alone.
So what do we do?
Ugh, oh.
Ugh.
Will you at least tell me why you hate me?
Hydrangea, you hear something?
What... what? Oh, oh, my God.
Oh, my God. Oh!
And honestly, New Yorkers never talk to our neighbors,
so you won't even know I'm here.
I'm thinking they already do.
Wow, talk about Southern hospitality.
Right, Bandit?
Ugh.
Uh... Hi, I'm...
The spitting image of your daddy.
Welcome to the New Utopia Inn.
Mm.
I've been waiting on you for so long.
This day... oh, this day.
Um, so who are you?
I'm Mae Mae.
I was your father's right hand until the day he died.
His right hand, perfect.
So you'll be able to answer all my questions.
This town has no questions, only answers.
That was not an answer.
Oh, look at your broken heel.
Let's get that fixed up.
Emmett, will you take good, long care of this shoe?
I take good, long care of every shoe.
- Emmett, neutral statement. - Ugh!
Let's get you to your father's room
so you can take a shower. - God, yes.
I would love a shower.
- ♪ Ha, da, doo, da ♪ - Oh, ah, that's so nice.
Thank you, thank you. - ♪ Nah, nah, nay ♪
Not the weirdest shower I've ever had.
Ooh.
It's so fun having a leader back
'Cause I help the leader.
Anything I can ever do for you, you just holler.
And I mean anything.
Honestly, this day has been a lot.
I could use a drink in a fun way,
not in any other way. - We have drink!
Ooh.
Welcome to the Filthy Pecker.
Over there is the jukebox,
and back there is where men punch fight to music.
Up there's Big Judy, and right there's Eliza,
proprietress of this fine establishment.
Hey!
She'll make you the finest pickleback
this side of the Chattahoochee.
Thank you. What was your name again?
- I'm working actor Alan Tudyk. - Who?
I'm the chicken in "Moana."
Cool. What are you doing out here?
I took a workshop out here once.
Really fell in love with the place.
All it needs is some fresh blood.
Young people, alcohol,
a random slightly famous person.
These are all the signs of a good party.
Wait, is this place fun?
Ooh.
I thought I told you to get.
So you're mean to me but nice to old ladies.
Random.
Is your body wearing a necklace?
Oh, it's a belly chain, a timeless fashion.
That's kinda... I... I've never seen that.
It looks... bail.
Okay.
What is it about a hot guy
being nice to an old lady that is so [bleep] hot?
Yeah, good.
Eh, maybe I'm just horny and upset because my ex-fiancé
cheated on me with my best friend.
Weird instant overshare. I like it.
I'm Eliza. - I'm Petey.
And I am loving your bar.
It's almost good enough to be in NYC.
Thanks, I poured my heart and soul into this place
ever since my last relationship ended a year ago.
Oh, my God, I'm just out of a relationship too.
We have so much in common. Let me guess.
Another woman? - Uh, yeah, you could say that.
It just feels like my whole life,
every decision was made for me,
either by the culture or some older person
who's in charge of me. - Same here.
Ugh, listen to us sharing our heartbreaks on first meeting.
We sound like an episode of "Hot People Over-Sharing...
"Their Traumas
and Then Kissing"!
- You watch that show? - Oh, my God.
I never miss it. - You feel this, right?
- Your ice-cold grip? - Our friendship spark.
We're gonna be best friends. I can tell.
I do feel it, but are we getting too close too fast?
Um, probably not.
Look, my whole thing with coming out here
is to bring this town into 20-whatever year it is.
Is there anything I should know?
Listen, a lot of people around here
will be fake with you because of who your dad was.
Not me.
If you need someone to talk to who's normal,
come find me, and if anyone tells you they're normal,
don't trust them.
What is this?
That there is pool darts.
Simplest game on the books,
unless you're city folk, of course.
Uh, I was an assistant at "Money Girl" magazine,
so I'm pretty sure I could figure it out.
- Want to bet? - Name your terms.
If I win, you have to leave town.
And if I win, you have to kiss me.
Deal.
♪ What are you waiting for? ♪
♪ Oh, come on, what are you waiting for? ♪
Beginner's luck.
Pay up, loser.
♪ What are you waiting for? ♪
♪ 'Cause you got everything that I've been dreaming of ♪
♪ What are you waiting for? ♪
♪ Oh, come on, what are you waiting for? ♪
Get it!
- Why are we clapping? - Because they're kissing.
Come on.
- I can't do this. - Why not?
Because your dad ran a cult.
What? No, he didn't.
I grew up with your dad, and it was hell.
Once he died, I thought it was safe to come back and rebuild.
You being here ruins all that.
Well, I can make it better.
You being here means the prophecy
of the great daughter's return is fulfilled.
That's why I wanted you to leave.
I thought you were being mean to me because you liked me.
- Who would do that? - This is not a cult.
It just needs a little fresh blood.
Oh, yes!
Oh, here we go. Thank you.
Ooh, it's cold.
Fresh blood, fresh blood.
Fresh blood... - Ooh, looks sharp.
What the [bleep]?
This is what a feminist dies like.
Sweetie, what's wrong?
They killed Alan Tudyk.
He's good in everything.
He's like a boy Judy Greer, and they killed him
for me.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I guess I should have warned you better.
It was your father's teaching
that, on the night of the great daughter's return,
we kill a character actor. It's tradition.
You people are [bleep] crazy.
Give me my shoes. I need to leave.
Sorry, your shoes aren't ready yet.
Even the shoe guy was fake?
Taxi! Taxi!
What is wrong with my hand?
Please, Petra, you can't leave.
We need you here so the comet will return.
Oh, God, it's a space cult?
Ugh, of course.
Boomers love space.
Emmett, the emergency combination TV/VCR!
Uh, what is this?
Your father will explain.
If you're watching this tape,
it means you've gotten a little spooked
after witnessing your first human sacrifice.
Hell, I wouldn't blame you for running for the hills,
but you're still here. Why is that?
Maybe it's because your shoe is still in the shop,
or maybe, just maybe,
it's because, despite the unfamiliar,
bizarre, and occasionally horrifying sights
you've seen today, you can't help
but feel connected to this place.
I'm trusting you with it, Petey.
Whatever you want to be different,
you can change.
New Utopia needs you, and deep down,
I think you need New Utopia too.
P.S., who got sacrificed tonight?
Who was it? I love show business gossip.
Was it Helen Hunt? Was it?
God, she'd be such a great get!
Well, Petey, will you accept your father's gift to you?
But the gift is a cult.
What isn't a cult?
You wear your LurlyLimon leggings
to yoga class where you hurt your body
to impress the tiny lady.
You get your hair done exactly the same
as the most powerful girl at work.
You do everything your therapist tells you to do.
Our comet's cult-y?
How about you won't buy a printer
during mercury in retrograde?
You're right.
My life in New York was as big a cult as this cult.
You could go home and keep muttering
your genius ideas under your breath
for the rest of your life,
or you could stay here
and say them out loud.
I do have good ideas.
I should be the boss.
Oh, my God, I said what I mean,
and I'm not doing a self-deprecating shimmy
to undercut it.
I'll advise you just like I did for your daddy,
and I admit, we do need to modernize
and get a little more young people around here.
I don't even know who the "Euphoria" generation's
Alan Tudyk is.
Is it Lukas Gage? Beanie Feldstein?
It's Evan Peters, isn't it?
Evan Peters is 36.
Wait, really?
Aw, I know today was a lot,
but it's just how we say, "I love you."
And you're not used to hearing that,
especially not from your mom.
So will you stay, Petey?
Bring forth the ceremonial dagger.
Bring forth the ceremonial boo-boo sticker.
All praise the great daughter!
Praise Petey!
Sweetest, dearest, loveliest Petra,
what shall be your first decree?
No more human sacrifice.
Okay.
- Anything else? - Yeah.
We're not wearing kaftans anymore.
We're wearing jumpsuits.
Jumpsuits!
No human sacrifice?
But that's a pillar of our faith.
I know, Emmett, you [bleep] weenie!
Hey, neutral statement!
As long as she's here, we're fulfilling the prophecy,
but she can never leave.
Well, my dead ex-husband's daughter
who is now my BFF just took over the cult
I'm a member of.
This ends well, yeah?
One way or another, I'm gonna stop her...
and at some point, I'll probably [bleep] her.
Wow, I guess I'm a cult leader now.
I'm still not sure how I feel about it.
It's like I got promoted to she-E-O
of a super toxic corporation, hey, but I'm in charge now,
so I can make things better.
Also, I could find out more about my dad
and maybe impress my mom.
Gee, been up here for a while.
Hope they put me down soon.
How big is this cult?
Wow, I've learned a lot today,
like that Evan Peters is 36.
That seems wrong.
I should remember to google how old Evan Peters is.
Wow, I'm going really far.
I wonder which celebrities I can get to join the cult.
Oh, I bet I could get Frankie Jonas,
or Frankie Grande.
Definitely someone from Freeform.