Heavy sigh.
Life has been oh so lonely
ever since the Knights of St. Joseph,
AKA my pubes, died
by execution
ordered by moi.
-Hark. Be that fanfare in the distance?
Oh, medieval G.
My pubies are back.
Yes, my lady. We have returned.
And we're not even mad at you for beheading us in the village square.
Honestly, every other man in my life has, like, abandoned me,
but you guys, you came back.
This calls for a feast.
And not just any feast.
A jubilant feast.
Fuck! My fucking mouth!
Pancakes, eh? That's a girlie breakfast.
Uh, how so?
They're round and soft,
just like you, you doughy little short-stack fuck.
Seamus, listen up.
Elliot has something he'd like to tell you.
Yes. What I'd like to say is,
um, I love you more than the sun loves the sky.
That's not it, Elliot. Tell them what we discussed.
Father, this weekend, the boys and I are gonna help you clean out your house,
so we can sell it.
The hell you are.
We'll use the money to set you up in a very nice assisted-living community.
An old-age home? Fuck you!
Why do I have to go?
I'm not, like, a… What is it? Like, a mover or whatever they're called.
You have to help because you got us into this mess.
And you need to move out
because you spit on the carpet, you scream in your sleep,
for some reason, you bit our mailman.
He knows what he did.
And the stress of having you here has been so overwhelming,
I can't even eat my favorite meal, Diane's vagina.
Oh, Jesus, Dad.
So, that's it, eh?
You're gonna dump me in some morgue just because your wife says so.
I happen to agree with Diane. Always.
Uh, just grow a vagina and eat your own pussy, Elliot.
Sorry, not funny.
To say the roof of my mouth was sloughing off in sheets
would be the understatement of the century.
The Hot Pocket, my friends, was simply too hot.
Objection. They're supposed to be hot. It's right in the name.
-Not that hot. -Overruled.
Miss Skumpy,
where were your parents when this horrible injury occurred?
Well, I have no dad,
and my mom is both a groupie and a workaholic,
so she was on the road as per uzhe.
Her parole officer, Rodney, rushed me to the mouth hospital.
But let the record show that Rodney's car absolutely stunk.
That's my bad, Your Honor. A squirrel passed away in my trunk.
Noted. Miss Skumpy, your life sounds very lonely.
Would you care to sing about it?
Well, if it, like, pleases the court…
I've heard enough.
In the case of Ugfuglio Skumpy v. Hot Pockets,
the court rules in favor of Miss Skumpy.
Holy molten cheese bites. I'm gonna be a bazillionaire.
Ah.
-Uh, hey, guys. -Hey there, sweetie.
Namaste a while.
Actually, downward-facing Dad,
I was wondering if maybe you'd take me to a daddy-daughter dance this weekend?
Ooh, a dance?
There's gonna be someone there that I'd like you to meet.
Oh, it sounds like a boy. A mother knows.
His name is Elijah.
Well, this Elijah better watch out
'cause Big Papa Cyrus can get pretty darn tough.
Oh, I love it when you call yourself Big Papa.
Great. It's this weekend at the Fountain of Life Church.
-Oh! -What? A church?
But you know how your mother and I feel about organized religion.
I do, but--
Anthropologically, it has done so much harm in the world.
But this will be fun.
We'll eat pizza and shake our booties.
And I really want you to meet Elijah. Please?
Well, when you put it like that,
I guess I can only say, "Vinyasireebob."
Aw, Dad, you're… you're my favorite comedian.
Now that I'm rich, I think I'll get a private plane
so I don't have to ride around in your stank-ass car anymore, Rodney.
Have you, uh, thought about putting some money aside for college?
I already graduated from the School of Hard Knocks.
-And, honey, I was the salutatorian.
OMG, you guys.
It's really her.
Who in the world are you three?
We are…
Uh, come again?
You know, the famous post-9/11 boy band?
We saw you on TV, sweetie,
serving up that hot, cheesy justice.
And we just knew you had to be Cookie Skumpy's daughter.
We knew your mom back in the day.
I mean, bad timing with that crow flying in front of her face.
Oh, I'd recognize her signature Bumpit anywhere.
That's my mom.
Yep. And ready for an absolute slay?
One of us is literally your dad.
Wait, what? Like, how?
-Holy Joe Paternity.
My whole life I've wondered who my dad could be.
But now I've got dads-a-plenty.
I don't know, Lols.
It's kinda fishy that these strange individuals
showed up right after the news said you're gonna be rich. You know?
We must've heard totally different songs, Rodney,
because I am 100% on board. Bring it in, Dads.
-You got it, Lola. -This rocks.
Ooh, you're a really strong hugger, sweetie.
Oh.
I'm so psyched your dad's coming to the dance.
I heard last year was nuts. They had grape soda and orange.
Wow. I bet someone mixed them together
in the same cup and was like…
Oh, snap, a daddy-daughter dance?
How apropos of my recent life developments.
Oh, hey, Missy. How many dads do you have?
-Uh, one? -Pathetic.
I have three. Get ready to be brutally upstaged by yours truly.
Ooh, Jessi, you and your dad should come.
"Fountain of Life Church"?
Yeah, there's gonna be a Christian caricature artist.
He'll draw you up on the cross, and holding a basketball if you want.
Hold on. Is this, like, one of those purity balls?
What? No, it's just a dance.
Actually, Missy, there is a kind of abstinence component.
-There it is. -What?
The dads take this vow, or whatever, to protect their daughters' virtue.
-Oh. -Okay, this dance is ridiculous, right?
Yeah, and pointless. You can't stop kids from fucking.
Mama, what's "fucking"?
Okay, Montel. When two creatures love each other very much,
or find themselves in the same airport bathroom,
they'll rub together any gooey parts they got
till everyone feels fantastic.
Well, I feel up to speed.
Great, now let's move on to fisting.
Let's.
So, you're really gonna dump your old man into a death camp?
Dad, I told Diane we're doing this, so we're doing it.
Oh, sugar, I left my moving gloves in my closet.
Nicky, would you be a dear and grab them?
I know my way around your closet, Dr. Birch. Allow me.
Ho, ho, the cave of wonders. Shall we snoop?
-Ooh. -Yes.
What is a "Peenie Prison"?
I am scared and aroused,
the chocolate and peanut butter of feelings.
"The Peenie Prison is a Bluetooth-enabled male chastity device."
-What? -Oh, okay.
So you stick your fat little piggy in there
and lock it away so you can't get hard.
Why would anyone want that?
Oh, Andrew, it can be very erotic
to relinquish control of your schwang to somebody else.
My submissive dick absolutely lives for that shit.
You wanna put on a pair of high heels and step on me, Daddy?
-Yeah, bitch. -Andrew, focus.
I mean, clearly, I should try on
my friend's dad's genital torture device, right?
Yeah, just for a second.
Wiping it off…
It says the size is "Virginia Slim," but you're more of a "Minnesota Meatball."
I think if I just kind of fold it…
I'm in. Oh!
-This feels naughty, Maury.
Oh no, the Peenie Prison's engaged.
You're locked in with no possibility for parole.
Oh, and why is this sudden panic making me hard?
-Andrew, sweetie, time to go. -Oh God.
-What do I do, Maury? -I think you just gotta do your time, bud.
And that's why we're called Bros 4 Life.
Because we knew we'd always be friends, but we're also vehemently anti-abortion.
And thank American God your mom didn't abort you.
Oh, contented sigh.
I love having all three of you as my dad.
-Oh, for realsie-ba-deelsies? -Of course.
When you three showed up,
it was, like, the moment my life actually started.
Oh, just like in our song.
Oh my God, I love that your music has a message.
Ew, Rodney, what are you doing here?
Well, Lols, I ran a background check on Bros 4 Life and--
You what?
I think we should conduct a proper DNA test.
I don't know if any of these hunks is your real dad.
Not only is one of them my dad, as far as I'm concerned, they all are.
Your Majesty, Sir Rodney only wants the best for you.
Though his leather jacket is fake, his heart is true.
Enough!
Rodney, it's that moment in every single girl's life
when she must look her mother's parole officer in the eye
and say, "I have three dads. I do not need you anymore."
But, Lola, I--
Rodney, sashay away.
Rodney, no lamenting in the hallway.
My bad, Lols.
Aye, home sweet home.
Sick. I was promised squalor and squalor was delivered.
Oh God, Andrew, I can hear your dick's pulse from a mile away.
Yeah, asshole, this torture device is crushing my ample hog.
And my nuts, Maury, they've taken the top bunk.
Well, maybe there's a toolbox somewhere in this godforsaken shithole.
Oh, good call.
Uh, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I've got a bathroom emergency.
-Feces style. -Again?
Well, thanks for the ride home, Princess Pussy-whipped.
I'm sorry. What are you doing?
Making myself comfortable, 'cause I'm not going anywhere.
You can't live here anymore. This place should be condemned.
Now get up.
There's a lot of improvised toilets to sort through.
You want me to get up, you're gonna have to make me.
Do it, Dad. Make him.
Yeah, he's like a million years old. You might actually be able to take him.
No. In this family, we use our hearts, not our fists.
Fuck your prissy heart.
'Cause I'm not rotting away in some old folks home.
Now go fetch the shitting boy and get the fuck outta my house.
DJ Pendejo's in the house. God's house.
Pew, pew, pew!
I'm very scared of God.
Nice to meet you, Mr. Foreman-Greenwald. I've heard a lot about you.
Well, then, pop quiz, hotshot. What's my favorite color?
Dad.
Clementine. Not orange, but clementine.
Very impressive, young man.
Double doors.
Arriving, scanning,
judging…
You're the hottest daughter here by far, Lola, and I've really been looking.
Also, everyone else's dad-to-daughter ratio
is like commonplace AF, hunty.
No kidding. I almost feel bad for them.
But if I'm being honest, all I really feel is amazing
for me.
Here, use these pliers.
Get a good grip on the Peenie Prison and twist.
Ow! Fuck. It's really on there.
Ooh, maybe loosen it up, you know, like a pickle jar?
Oh! I felt that one in my guts.
Hey, shitting boy, I'm supposed to fetch you.
-Hey. No. Don't come in here. -Whoa.
-Nick. -What the fuck are you doing?
It's actually a very charming and relatable story.
Dad, you lock your dick up in a little box that only Mom can open?
Well, not a box exactly.
It's a Bluetooth-enabled device I wear sometimes
when your mother and I engage in sensual play.
Oh, this is a new low.
Maybe if your dick wasn't locked up, you'd be able to satisfy your wife.
Hey, you're the reason I can't satisfy my wife.
It's been six-and-a-half days since I've feasted upon her essence.
-Ooh. -Ew, Dad!
I've never even gone two days before. Not when I had strep throat.
Not when I was on a business trip in Seattle.
I flew home every 48 hours to dine upon Diane.
Shut up, shut up, shut up about Mom's vagina!
God, my caged cock is quaking.
So, you let the woman lock up your pathetic little prick, eh?
No wonder she's such a ball-busting hag.
What did you just say?
I said your wife's a bitch.
Diane is God.
Holy shit. Dad, you punched Grandpa.
I love you, Dad.
Oh my God. What have I done?
Father, are you okay?
-Well, look at you. -Here.
William Wallace MacGregor, welcome home, son.
-Go, Cyrus. Go, Cyrus. Go, Cyrus, go!
Whoa, I did not see that no-hands cartwheel coming.
Yeah, that's new. He's been working on that.
This is the best night
of my already storied and very fascinating life.
-Us too, sweetie. -Yeah.
Even if you weren't about to get a truckload of money from your lawsuit,
we'd still be super psyched to be your dads.
Well, Dads, that is marvelous news,
because there is no truckload of money coming.
-What? -What do you mean?
Well, because I decided to get my settlement…
Pausing for dramatic effect.
…in Hot Pockets instead. Yay.
You idiot.
How could you fuck us over like this?
Bye, Felicia.
Wait, what? Dads, why are you saying these things?
Because we're not your real dads, stupid. We just wanted your money.
Yeah, it was gonna pay for Bros 4 Life's big comeback.
We already bought queen-size bunk beds for the loft.
But I thought we were a family.
What about that yarn that you spun through song?
Uh, it was bullshit. I couldn't have gotten your mom pregnant.
We only did it in the butt, Christian-style.
Yeah, and I was castrated in high school so I could…
And your mom only gave me a hand job while I wept.
#BornThisWay.
Wait. Don't go. Please.
Well, I hate that that's gonna be stuck in my head now.
All right, everybody, God's boyfriend has an announcement now.
What's up, party people?
I know we're having a blast,
but we're here tonight for a very special reason.
-Whoop, whoop! -Sacred vows.
That's right, Richard and Richard.
Time for all the dads in the house to take the purity pledge.
Do what now?
Dad, please don't make a big deal out of this.
Dearest daughter, on this day, in front of God,
-I do solemnly swear… -What? No, no, no, no.
…to protect your virginity.
No! Stop it! What are you all doing?
They're just promising God their daughters won't have S-E-X.
But our daughters aren't helpless objects
that we need to protect from their own sexuality.
Dad.
They're capable of making their own choices.
Thank you. Now be quiet.
This is exactly why I didn't wanna take you to church.
Shout-out to Hozier.
Organized religion is built around subjugating women.
That's not true.
Christianity's about good works and community.
Yeah, and loving one another.
You shut your mouth, you little gentleman.
Okay, Dad, you're embarrassing me in front of my friends.
Well, I don't like Kirk Cameron over here dragging you into this church nonsense.
Piety? Abstinence? He is a bad influence.
Well, you're a closed-minded elitist.
And I wish I'd never invited you to this dance.
-Missy, wait.
Hey, Richard, congratulations on marrying your daughter.
Is she, uh, taking your last name or can I have it?
-Oh man, what a day.
You really scrambled my eggs, Willy boy.
Dad, what's wrong with your hand?
I punched my father in the face.
-You did what? -It was awesome.
Dad fucking decked him, and then Grandpa got up and cleaned the house.
Look at that hole, black as the ace of spades.
Oh my God.
And I've made a decision.
My father's not moving into assisted living.
He's staying here with us, permanently.
-Wait, hold on, what? -I've abandoned him once.
I won't do it again.
Excuse me, Elliot, that's not how we make decisions in this house.
-I wasn't finished, Diane. -Oh.
Now you march your beautiful body up those stairs,
because goddamn it, it's time to eat.
Well, okay. I mean, if you say so.
Mom, are you serious?
Leah, we'll deal with your father's upsetting new personality later.
-Um, Mrs. Birch? -What, Andrew? What the fuck do you want?
Yeah, I was wondering if you could unlock your husband's Peenie Prison,
which happens to be on my peenie.
-Oh, Jesus Christ.
Oh! Ooh!
Oh, my weenus can finally breathe.
Get the fuck out of our house.
Yeah, I know.
Okay, I'll see you at school, Nick.
Missy, uh, there you are.
Let's just go home already, okay? You've made your stupid point.
Listen, I am sorry I made a scene in there,
but it feels like you just keep changing in ways that aren't like you.
No, I'm changing in ways that aren't like you.
You said girls should be allowed to make their own choices,
so why doesn't that include me?
Well, I guess if you wanna serve the community
and spend your time with a polite boy
who will never pressure you into having sex,
I'm just gonna have to learn to live with that.
Thanks, Dad.
And if anything, I'm gonna pressure him, so…
I'm sorry, what was that?
At least I went for the lump sum.
But sigh.
The heat of this gargantuan Hot Pocket is the only warmth I deserve.
-Whoever could that be?
More swindlers to re-break my already very much broken heart?
Hey, Lols. I heard about what happened.
Go ahead. Say, "I told you so." Lord knows I would.
Nah, nah, I came to say I'm sorry. You deserve better.
Whatever, Rodney.
Your car deserves to smell better. Beat it.
As you wish.
Your Highness, don't let him leave.
Sir Rodney is a man of valor.
Your most loyal subject.
Absorbing, deciding, completing emotional arc.
Rodney, wait.
I've been taking you for Hugh Granted.
What are you saying, Lols?
I'm saying, I'm just a girl,
standing in front of her mother's parole officer,
asking him to be her chosen father figure.
Oh, Lola, I feel like I just got my car detailed.
What do we do now, my chosen daughter?
Obviously, we're gonna sing another song, you bona fide bozo.
Pay attention. Jesus, Rodney.
-Huh-uh.
Lola.
That's me.
Oh.