- Thanks for having me over, ladies.
- I love that we can be friends
even though all of us were married to your dad.
- Stop. So what should we do?
- Oh, a big weird sex pile?
- Um, no. - You said "um."
That's 40 punishment points.
- We're not doing punishment points, remember?
- Oh, darn. - Shoot.
- We're in my cult now,
and in my cult, we think for ourselves.
Have any of you ever made a vision board?
I have a blank board
that I stare at when I dissociate.
Is that that? - No, a vision board
is a very serious adult craft project
that women and short men do
in order to inspire themselves.
See, look. Here's one I made in 2019.
- Oh... - You got him.
- And I achieved that goal
simply by cutting up magazines.
- Magazines? We have those!
Ooh.
- "Father's Knee"...
My dad had a magazine?
- I love FK!
It's the only magazine I've ever seen,
but it's also the best.
- "732 questions With the Great Leader,"
"The Life-Changing Magic of Signing Over Your Pension,"
"Commercials From My Childhood
That I Will Now Describe to You"?
- Open on a young boy with a runny nose.
His mother peers in.
She's busty, but concerned.
- Ah! What a bunch
of boomer nonsense. This isn't what
magazine journalism is.
It's in-depth profiles that reach across the aisle.
It's cutesy advertorials for birth control
that changes your personality.
It's inspiring women
and threatening them with the return of low-rise jeans.
- Women?
Like us?
- Exactly, Wife Beth.
You deserve a real magazine.
The whole town does,
and I'm gonna give it to you.
I'll show you all. I'm a magazine girl!
- The magazine... it's back!
- My dad had a magazine,
and I was excited to fix it.
I couldn't wait to meet all of the awesome magazine staff.
Oh, hi, Gene.
Do you work here?
- I do. - Oh.
Great. What's your job?
- I keep tabs on people.
- Hmm...
Oh.
- There's that ass.
Hey, girly.
Not sure if you remember me... I'm Ella.
We used to be best friends
until I slept with your fiancé and burned down your house.
'Memba? - Ooh, messy.
- Yes, I remember.
Let me guess... you're here because Brian dumped you,
and now you wanna be friends again?
- No, it's not that.
So, we friend?
- No, Ella. Do not use our secret language
where we leave out words.
We not friend.
I have a new best friend now,
and my own magazine.
- New best friend? But can she even magazine?
'Cause I can magazine.
I can magazine right now.
I'll interview Anna Marie Tendler
at Chuck E. Cheese.
- If you wanna help,
you start at
the bottom.
- No...
you don't mean... - You can...
Go get toner.
- Oh, wow, the thing interns do.
Right, no probeys...
Abs... absolutely cannot wait.
- Oh.
- Hey, don't... Don't you have an office?
- Real journalists work in bars.
- Excuse me, Bandit, I'm working.
- So am I... hope you don't mind I used the printer
at the trash magazine you're bringing back.
- Ugh, so that's why we're out of toner.
Look, I know my dad's magazine was bad,
but I can do better.
- Wasn't bad... it was a front
to gather blackmail
on everyone in the cult
to keep them from leaving.
Mm-kay, well, I am not
doing that. - Why do anything at all?
You're the only one who wants it back,
you egomaniacal she-devil!
- Wait a minute. You hate my guts.
You'd be the perfect subject
of my first big feature.
- Come again. - It's gripping.
It's conflict.
It's the best way of showing this cult
a healthy exchange of ideas
and proving you wrong.
I'm open to dissent.
I actually love dissent.
I doubt that.
All I know is I got an ailin' barn that needs me.
I can take my dad's
propaganda platform and reclaim it
by giving a voice to his biggest critic.
- Okay, but isn't it, like, kind of convenient
that your dad's biggest critic
has the tightest pecs in town?
- Eliza, no,
absolutely not.
Female journalists have ethics.
This is not gonna be a repeat
of that 2011 Chris Evans "GQ" article.
- Good.
What?
Hi, Gene.
I heard Petey was starting the magazine back up,
and I thought I'd come run the show,
like I did in the old days.
Don't mind me.
- Okay...
- Oh, my, this brings back memories.
This place was everything a magazine should be...
Desks, whiskey,
barbeque sauce, sex,
and well-oiled blackmail machine.
- I've had impure thoughts
about a radish
that looks like a boob!
- And me?
I was a real piece of ass.
Glory days...
- Ugh!
Look, you're right. You're right.
I'm a nepotism baby
of psycho dictator, okay?
And I hate that about myself.
But if you let me write my feature about you,
we can heal this place together...
Just like you healed this cow house.
- You know it's called a barn.
- See? You're already
teaching me stuff.
Please...
I'll do anything to get this story.
- Anything?
- Anything.
You help me fix this barn,
I'll help you with your damn story.
Mm...
and this is the most touching
we'll do today.
Hmm...
- And we're on the record.
So Bandit, what I'm really dying to know
is how did the cult hurt you?
- It didn't hurt just me.
High control groups like your father's
hurt everyone.
- Ah, ooh...
There was a glare off your tricep,
and it made me dizzy for a sec.
- Sorry about that.
Now, where were we?
- Now, a lot of so-called deep programming experts
have been critiqued for lack of scientific method.
- Ah.
- Oh, sorry, did I do something sexy?
- It's fine. Just... why don't you go
over there and hammer something?
- In your own words, how did this personally affect you?
- There's no such thing as my own words.
Words belong to everybody.
That's something you wouldn't understand.
Can you pass me that nail?
- Sure.
- According to Lifton's
"Eight Criteria for Thought Reform"...
- Oh, do you need this hammer? - Yeah.
Just put it between my pecs.
When you're under the spell of one person,
it makes your thoughts.
Not go good...
Why can't our chemistry
just cool it for a second?
- Oh, am I too hot for you?
You are just like your dad.
You know, he banished
all the hunks in town
so he could be the hottest hunk.
- Whoa, he did that to you?
- I don't wanna talk about it.
This interview is over.
- No, it's not.
I don't even know your favorite color.
Just give me something.
- Fine, you want an ending to your big story?
I'm gonna use this barn as a deprogramming center,
and you helped me build it.
You tricked me into building
a barn that hates me?
- Well, time to hit the showers.
Oh.
Yep.
- Petey, got your toner, bitch.
Is Petey here?
- No. - Great, first she makes me
do an intern job even though
I went to several years of NYU,
and then she ghosts me?
Also this town is the worst.
I couldn't find a single overpriced lunch place.
- That's not lunch.
I still can't believe
Petey has a new BFF.
Like, does this tattoo mean nothing to her?
- St. Ends...
what does that mean?
- It's my half of the "best friends" tattoos
Petey and I got together.
If only there was a way to learn something bad
about Petey's new bestie
so I can make her look bad
and reclaim best friend status.
- Hmm, I might be able to help.
- I can't believe I built a barn,
and all I got was a bunch of Bandit's
usual anti-cult talking points
filtered through his childlike vocabulary.
Oh, he's so hot!
- What did you expect? That's Bandit's whole thing.
- It must be why my father banished him
along with all the other hunks.
- Wait, Bandit said he was banished?
Huh, okay. - What are you saying?
- Mm,
it's really not for me to say,
but you should find out for yourself.
- Uh, of course, research.
I wonder if there's anything in those blackmail folders.
- What? Why?
I thought your magazine was no blackmail.
- No, but if research can be used as blackmail,
blackmail can be used as research...
And why not? I'm a reporter
and a bastard.
This is gonna be the best groundbreakingest article
since "Teen Vogue" said "gaslight."
- Mm.
- She kept probing for some sort of secret pain
or childhood trauma.
I gave her nothing.
- And you had every right to set a boundary
with a journalist,
but I'm your therapist,
and I'm not sure I'm getting to know you either.
- When you said you "gave her nothing,"
was there something to give?
- You tell me. You're the PhD.
- You know I don't have a PhD.
This is your time, Bandit.
You can use it however you want...
Mock my credentials,
call me a bullshit therapist...
But at some point, you're going to have to open
up to someone. We're on the cusp
of a breakthrough here. I can feel it.
- She was checking me out.
- The journalist?
- Her name is Petey...
Hate to say it, but she is obsessed with my body.
- That makes two of you.
I've noticed you place a lot of importance
on your physical appearance.
- I thought you said you weren't getting to know me.
- Come on, don't do that.
We're not here to play tit for tat.
- Hmm,
I thought you said it's my time
and I can use it however I want.
- Bandit, you're impossible.
- Oh, B.
For Bandit!
This must be it.
- Bandit, we have determined
that based on your jawline, overall proportions,
and smize factor that you are...
not hot enough to warrant banishment!
Congratulations, you can stay!
- Wait, what?
I'll grow into my features. I know it!
Please! Banish me, Great Leader!
Banish me for being hot!
- Now, now, Bandit, this is a good thing.
I need my gangly good boy around here.
- Last call for hunks!
All hunks aboard!
- Wait up!
Ooh, messy.
Hello, "Petey Magazine,"
fashion, style, politics, and takes.
- Hey, "Petey Magazine,"
it's Bandit.
Listen, now that all that stupid interview stuff
is out of the way, I was, uh,
thinking you could come over for a drink,
and, I don't know, see if any of that inadvertent sexy stuff
happens again.
- Hmm, let me just check my calendar.
Whew, okay, he thinks the interview is over.
What are the ethics here?
- What time?
Ah, yes, and the best night
of all the nights at the magazine,
the night we were about to kiss...
We were working late...
Real late.
- I would've saved her,
but the current was too strong.
- Oh.
I was just waiting for my chance.
- You don't think them spying on me has something to do
with Petey backtracking on the blackmail thing, do you?
- Who cares? You're clean... I assume.
- But who's that?
- She's a friend from New York.
- How do you know?
- Got a mean face, dressed like a baby...
And earlier, today, she was running around yelling,
"I'm from New York."
- I mean, look, if they're trying to dig up dirt on me,
I know that I don't have anything embarrassing
within the cult. - But the cult stuff
would be embarrassing to someone seeing it
from the outside...
Someone like Petey
or Petey's friend.
I've been in cults.
I know a thing or two.
- You're in a cult now.
Ah.
Right.
- She's so boring.
God, I'm starving.
I know you're a weird loner who lives off power bars
and black coffee, but...
- You know, uh, we could, um,
take a break and go get some salads.
- Oh, my God, yes!
I love salads!
Don't look.
- So what's the culty thing you're worried about them
finding out?
- So, um, I kind of haven't
told Petey that I was one of her dad's wives yet,
and I would imagine it wouldn't be great
if they told her first.
- Yeah, probably not.
You know what they say...
A friend is just a stepmom
your dad hasn't met yet.
- Ugh, no.
I'm, uh...
surprised you invited me over.
- Oh, hell, it's the least I could do
after I won the interview.
- Ugh, don't worry about it.
Now, you stonewalled me
about personal details earlier.
What if I said I just wanted to get to know you better
as a journalist and maybe more?
- Well, my therapist did say
I needed to open up more.
- Therapist?
That's sophisticated.
- Yeah, it's a habit I picked up in...
- New York City...
- How did you know?
- This permanent bruise.
That's a subway turnstile bruise.
Did you live there after you were banished from New Utopia?
- Aw, hell,
I probably shouldn't tell you about this,
but what with the interview being over
and my therapist getting to me today,
New York City's where I went to medical school.
- Wait, what? You're a doctor?
- No... Because I fell off a ladder!
- It's okay. You can talk to me.
- It was graduation day.
I spent four long years
learning all the doctor stuff
from brain to foot.
But I was work-study,
so it didn't matter how many spleens I spliced.
I was always getting asked to do menial labor,
and hell, if I didn't know my way
around a ladder...
Ah. Or at least I thought I did.
- Oh. - When I came to,
I forgot everything I learned.
They sent me home...
A home I hadn't seen
since I left.
- Whoa, bonus secret...
- What do you mean "bonus secret"?
What's the first secret?
- Nothing. So just so it's clear,
you were banished from New Utopia
for being handsome, and you went to New York City,
where you hit your head and forgot medical school?
Is that correct? - It is.
But why are you recounting my personal story all enunciated
and facts-like?
- I just have one last question.
You weren't actually banished, were you?
I saw the tape... gotcha moment!
- Hey, how long has that been on?
- Since you let your guard down.
- But... but... The interview was over!
- Nuh-uh, I just got to know you better
as a journalist... And maybe more...
And now, everyone in town's
gonna get to know you better too
and that your criticism of the cult
is because you were sad that my dad didn't think
you were pretty enough.
- This is off-the-record.
- Oh, sweetie,
you have to say that before you start crying.
Ooh, ah, okay.
I think I'm done.
Well? What do you think?
- I think you're in love with Bandit.
- What? No.
Oh, my God.
This isn't journalism...
It's hot!
- Well, at least one decent thing came out of today.
What do you think of the barn, Hydrangea?
I think you're in love
with Petey. - What?
Where'd you get that from?
Oh, no, my feelings!
They're all over this barn!
- Mm.
both: Oh, no!
- Now what's my article?
- Now what's my barn?
- I wanted to do an exposé about Bandit,
not myself, and now I have no story,
and I'm on a deadline...
Again.
- It's probably not safe to reveal unprocessed trauma
to a journalist who's desperate for a story,
but I gotta tell you something.
- Just say it fast so I can't get an angle.
I was one of your father's wives.
- Can you please say something?
- Yeah.
Um...
Did you ever
do my dad?
- Ew... no. We got married,
and he immediately died.
Phew.
That does help.
Blah. Okay. - Good, okay.
- Okay.
- Now, if you will excuse me,
I have a magazine to publish.
- Okay.
- So Bernadette, tell me...
How was Holland?
- Is this cheering you up?
- It is. You're a really good friend.
Wait, you're my friend.
So that means I made a friend,
which makes it okay that Petey made a friend,
because friends can have friends!
- Mae Mae. You okay?
- Oh, shh, shush.
It was the moment I'd been waiting for.
Oh...
- Hey, hi,
can you clean the fridge?
It stinks.
Mercy, me, I wasn't a young hottie.
I was a fridge cleaner.
- Aww.
- Hey, Petey,
I know we've been in a big fight all day.
- I fully forgot you were here.
- But thanks to my new friend, Gene,
I learned a lot...
Like that it's possible to get friend-zoned by a sex doll.
- Did he propose?
Well, if not in Holland, when?
- But also, I learned it was wrong of me
to burn down your house and steal your fiancé.
Now you apologize.
Okay.
Me sorry for make baby
get tone-tone.
You my friend from before,
and now I different girl.
- You growth.
That's a strong.
You a stinky.
We a joke.
both: We friend.
The was that?
- Hi, New Utopia.
Welcome to the very first issue
of "Petey's Knee."
I wanted to revive this magazine
so I could make it better
than my father's.
But the only thing I needed
to make better was myself.
This magazine is a work in progress,
but so am I,
and so is this town,
and so are my friendships,
and so is this sentence.
But that's okay.
It takes time to figure out
the right way to do things,
and it takes time to make a new magazine.
I hope you learn a little bit about me,
but also, I hope you learn
a little bit about yourselves.
- Wow.
That was worse than her daddy's.
Thank God I didn't learn anything about myself.
- You dodged a bullet.
Wow, I did
a really good job today.
I mean, did I maybe bend my ethics a little bit?
Sure...
And am I still bending them right now?
Absolurtly.
Every great journalist knows
that when a hunk shows you his yum gutters,
you save two copies.
And that's journalism.