- ♪ Now as our poor young lungs deflate ♪
♪ I'll admit I've gotten older ♪
♪ Mellowed out, chatting up those I used to hate ♪
♪ ♪
♪ The feeling that we're lost will always fade ♪
♪ I present no explanations ♪
♪ Can't expect our tired patience ♪
♪ To satiate for long ♪
♪ And therein lies a truth we can sip when we want ♪
♪ Disciples of the flow, we can float anywhere ♪
- Okay, Tom, what's left on our list?
- Uh, Doritos, candy,
Pop-Tarts, Chips Ahoy!
And then it says, "Grab some salad
so you don't look like a bad mom."
- Okay, you sit tight right here.
I'm just gonna go grab a few pieces of lettuce.
- All right, just grab a--
grab a slice of lettuce.
- Hey, there, big boy. - "Big boy"?
You talking to me? - Yeah, you're a little big
to be riding in that cart, don't you think?
- Big? Nah, standard kid size.
- Listen, I'm just trying to help,
but you look like an absolute idiot
sucking on that juice box.
- I don't know how that helps me
in my day-to-day life. - Listen, life moves fast.
One minute, you're playing little league.
Next, you're smoke weed, you're nailing chicks.
- I'm not nailing anyone. I'm ten years old.
- I'm just saying, I want you to hop out of the cart
and just push it.
- No, my mom told me you have to have a license for that.
- Well, people have been lying to you your entire life
if that's what they told you. [thud]
- So I've got permission to push the cart?
- Absolutely.
- This is shockingly easy. - Yeah.
- Yeah, I could've started doing this when I was five.
- Absolutely. Get out there and be somebody.
- Manager, check this out. No hands.
- Hell, yeah, break out of the handcuffs of youth
and push that cart.
- Whoo!
Oh, no! - [screams]
- Oh, that's not good.
- [moaning dramatically]
Oh, why?
- Is it just me, or is he overdramatizing this?
Hey, there, Nelson. What's the word?
- Listen, whatever's about to go down,
don't let it affect our friendship.
- "Go down"? What does that even mean?
- Tom! - Ah. Nelson's dad?
Why are you on the bus? - You have been served.
- Oh, no. - I'm representing Hector.
We're suing the supermarket. - No.
- We're suing the manager. - Please.
- We're suing the watermelon industry.
- No, you can't sue watermelons.
- And we're suing you.
See you at your deposition, son.
- Nelson, you got to stop this.
I literally did nothing wrong.
- Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa.
I can't discuss it, Tom.
- What's that supposed to mean?
- There's a conflict of interest.
I could get disbarred.
- Disbarred from what?
You're not a lawyer.
- Why don't I move one seat back
until this case is settled?
- Nelson, please, come on.
- Hey, what are we talking about?
- Oh, my God.
- Oh, you got a little pin for your bag.
Oh, that's cool. What is that, a ladybug?
Oh, no. Oh, watermelons. Cart.
Cart. Hector, no. Wait.
Depositions! - Tom!
- Nelson's dad! Please! Oh, no!
Oh, no, a watermelon! - Tom!
- Oh, hey, Ma. - You okay?
- Oh, man, I was having a nightmare.
- Is this about the lawsuit? - It is.
- Look, I don't want you to have any stress around this.
No one can sue us. - What do you mean?
They--they can come after all of our stuff.
- Tom, everything we own is terrible,
and it's worth nothing.
- It is pretty disgusting.
- We're un-suable.
It's one of the perks of being poor.
- Oh, this is great news.
- I invite them
to get aggressive with us.
Have it, dummy. None of it's good.
- Have it, dummy. - Mm-hmm.
- You can have my disgusting backpack
and my mom's nasty clothes.
- Have all my nasty clothes.
Take my culottes, bitch.
- This is great. We don't have anything.
- Take my tank top, honey.
I got five of 'em for a buck. - I feel great now.
I got to say, I'm gonna sleep well tonight.
- Aw. Night-night, kid.
[door closes]
[knock on window]
- Tom, wake up. - What?
- It's the manager from Food Mart.
- What? Get out of my room.
- We got to talk about the lawsuit.
- Oh, no, I'm fine. I'm un-suable, so I'm good.
- You might be good. I'm not good.
If they find out I pressured you to push the cart,
I could be found liable.
And we're friends, so...
- We're not friends. Hey, no. [clattering]
Please don't come in. Don't come in.
Stop. - Look, I'm in your room.
- Stop. - I'm in your room already.
So now we're friends. - Oh, my God.
- I have a small favor to ask. - Okay.
- I need you to change out of your pajamas...
- Stop. - Ride your bike
to the supermarket... - Stop.
- Steal the security tapes, and destroy them in the river.
- Are you okay? - I am not okay, all right?
They won't let me near the security booth.
- Oh, you got to check
into some kind of clinic or something.
- Come on, I'll give your mom free groceries for life.
- That's tempting. It just feels wrong.
- Free mayo-- does that feel wrong?
- You brought them with you? - Canned peaches?
- Oh, my God, canned peaches for free?
- Unlimited deli meats?
- I just can't sneak out of the house.
I can't picture doing it. - Man up, Tom.
If you're old enough to push a cart,
you're old enough to steal some security tapes.
- Thanks for doing this, Randy.
I can't believe you actually agreed.
- Hey, if you need me, I'm here for you, buddy.
- Yeah, I usually go to Nelson for these kind of things,
but he's got a conflict of interest, so...
- Pfft, Nelson?
Nelson is a poor man's Randy.
- You do have a confident demeanor.
So how are we gonna do this?
We got to get in and get the tapes.
Do you have any kind of plan?
- Okay, first, I'm gonna cause a distraction
by going on a racist rant.
- Seems kind of weird.
- And then you enter the security booth,
and you ransack the place to make it look like a robbery.
- What purpose does that serve?
- And if anyone asks where your parents are,
you just say, "No comment, asshole."
- I'm not allowed to swear. Can I say--
- "No comment, butthole."
- I kind of regret calling you,
but let's just-- let's just hope for the best.
- Uh, excuse me?
Why is this store carrying sauerkraut?
You know who else liked sauerkraut?
A man by the name of Hitler!
- Oh, my God. What is this kid doing?
- Black beans?
Where I come from, they're just beans.
- All right, here we go--tapes, tapes, where are the tapes?
Where are the tapes? Where are the tapes?
Cloud? What the hell's a cloud?
Cloud? No. What's happening? This--this makes no sense.
- Kid, where are your parents anyway?
- My parents? - Yeah, where are they?
- You want to know where my parents are?
Why? 'Cause you want to fuck them?
- What does that even mean?
- All right. Think, Tom. Think, think.
All right, you know what? Let's just destroy it.
Destroy the machine.
That didn't seem to work.
[static whirs] Attention, shoppers.
Will Randy please go to the parking lot?
- Okay. I'm gonna get out of here.
Forget what I said. I--
You don't want to fuck my parents.
I don't even know why I said that.
That's a crazy thing to say.
- Oh, what a disaster.
- Yeah. Thanks to you, we blew it.
- Oh, you're not smart. You're just not smart.
- I am smart. You're dumb.
- That's your comeback? - [sighs]
Let's just settle up and get out of here.
- "Settle up"? What--what do you mean?
- Pay me. - Oh, this isn't a paid job.
I just called you late at night and said,
"Meet me at the supermarket."
- Oh, so it was a booty call?
- Just childhood high jinks, just fun stuff.
- You think I'm volunteering my time here?
- Oh, yeah, Nelson does this kind of stuff
for free all the time.
- You guys are friends.
I barely know your last name. Pay me.
- All right, fine. Here's the money.
- What is this? Canned peaches?
- All right, you know what? This is not the time to haggle.
Let's get out of here. Go. Run.
[musical scales playing]
♪ ♪
- Oh, I'm so stupid.
Why did I break into the supermarket?
- Thomas, might I have the temerity to ask
why you're sweating and mumbling to yourself?
- All right, not today, Mr. B. I'm not in the mood.
I-I've got a lot going on.
- What do you have "going on"?
- I didn't get a lot of sleep.
I'm just not in the mood for the whole Mr. B. schtick.
- "Schtick"?
Young man, I will see you after class.
- I'm sorry. - Wow.
Tom. - What?
- Excuse me? - What do you need?
- Tom, are you feeling all right?
You seem out of character.
- Honestly, Dakota, I know you're trying to help.
Can you just shut up and play your flute?
- I'm gonna give you a pass, Tom,
but that's the last time you're ever gonna tell me to shut up.
Okay? - I apologize for that.
- Yeah, that's a one-and-done on that.
- Excuse me-- quick interruption,
but I need to see Tom in my office now.
- Are you kidding me?
All right, someone put away my bassoon.
I-I can't deal with this right now.
Oh, the last thing I need today is more principal bullshit.
What do you want?
- Close the door and get in here right now.
- Who are you?
What's happening? Are you a cop?
- I'm the one asking the questions, okay?
So sit down and shut up. And, you, get me a coffee.
- Can I see some credentials?
You just came in here, and you put your feet up.
- My credentials?
Here are my credentials right here.
- You pointing at your gun or your badge?
- I'm grabbing my penis, okay? I'm grabbing my penis.
- You're in a grade school, you realize?
- Now, look, we can go back and forth all day,
but I don't have time for this.
I came in here for answers,
and I'm gonna leave with answers.
- Listen, I'm a little kid.
I was pushing a shopping cart.
That's not a crime.
- [laughs]
You want to know what is a crime, Tom?
- Okay? - Defacing security equipment
with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Bam!
- I actually don't think it is, but--
- No, I don't think so either.
- Here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna be in touch.
But until I do,
do not step foot out of the state of New Jersey.
Capisce?
- I don't speak Italian, so... - I don't either.
I think it means, "Do you understand?"
- Wait, you're not strapping me
to the front of the bus, are you?
- Hector, I'm a licensed bus driver.
I know what I'm doing, man. - No, no, no, no.
No, stop it. This is not safe.
- It's fine.
- Tom, great news.
- I thought we can't talk. What's happening?
- Turns out that the attorney-client privileges
don't even apply to the son of an attorney.
- I didn't think that made sense.
- Lean in. I got something to tell you.
Here. - What's up?
- I really got reason to believe
that Hector is not really injured.
- Wait, what? - My dad took his deposition.
And he was bouncing on a trampoline,
saying, "I'm rich."
- For no reason, he was bouncing on a trampoline?
- Yep, rapping that "I'm rich."
- Rapping? - Rapping "I'm rich."
- That's crazy! That's insurance fraud!
- Look, if you can get him on tape
admitting insurance fraud, this whole case goes away.
- All right, let's do this.
Make arrangements to meet the cop.
Just get all the equipment and the scheduling,
and I'll just show up.
- Tom, you really need to start paying me for these things.
- I'm not sure what Randy told you,
but I literally paid him in canned peaches.
- All right, here we go.
I'm glad you decided to cooperate, kid.
If Hector's lying, this whole case goes away.
- So what do we have to do? We have to record his voice?
- I'm gonna hardwire you, okay?
It's gonna go under your shirt.
It's gonna run along your side
and down the leg of your pant.
- Why? - Okay, I'm sorry.
Who is this guy? - He's Nelson.
He's my friend/fixer.
- It's like a unpaid position.
- Okay, well, here's what I need you to do.
I need you to pipe down because what I'm talking about
is very complex stuff, okay?
- Is it? That's, like, a lot of wire.
Why don't we just use my burner phone?
- Tom, who's in charge here, okay?
Is it this Nelson kid, or is it me?
- I want to say you, but I don't feel like you are.
I think let's go with Nelson's idea.
- No disrespect. - Yeah.
Let's go with the burner phone.
It's just smarter on multiple levels.
All right, let's do it.
- ♪ I'm rich, I'm rich ♪
♪ And watermelons are my bitch ♪
♪ Hector, Hector ♪
♪ Motherfucking Hector ♪
- Hector, I hear you rapping in there.
Come on, open up. It's me.
Hey, Hector. Hey, I'm glad to see you're doing better.
- I'm not doing better. I might have brain damage.
- Brain damage from watermelons?
- Those are heavy, and they're filled with water.
- You're not really hurt. Come on, you could tell Tom.
- Why are you get-- what are you doing?
- You can say, "I've been faking my injuries."
- What are you talk-- why are you close to me?
- What do you mean why? I'm close to you as a friend.
- Are you recording me right now?
- What are you doing? Don't frisk.
Don't frisk me. - No, no, no.
You got something. - Stop frisking me. Hey.
- Ha. Wow.
Tom, I hate to break it to you,
but you're not the guy who records me.
I'm the guy who records you.
- What does that even mean?
- Nelson's dad planted a wire in your backpack
the other day, so we know it all.
- Oh, no. - The collusion,
the bribes, the cop pointing to his penis--
we know all that stuff. - All right, you know what?
I got to go. This conversation never happened.
- Oh, no, it did, and we recorded it.
- I'll deny it. I'll deny everything.
- We recorded that, too.
Ah, you don't understand anything.
- All right, I got to go. - Bye.
- [bangs on van]
- Yo, Tom, how did it go? - Not good, Nelson.
Your dad planted a bug on my backpack?
- You know what? Now that I think about it,
this feel like a conflict of interest after all.
Why don't I recuse myself?
- He's riding away. - This is not good.
Get in the van, Tom. [engine turning over]
This is a nightmare!
They've been recording you? - All right, slow down.
Why do you care? You're a cop.
- I'm not a cop, Tom. - What?
- I am a junior insurance claim adjuster's assistant for GEICO.
- Oh, my God, you came into my school with a gun
and pointing at your penis.
- My job is boring, okay?
I like to try to spice it up
with some little stuff here and there.
- We got to call GEICO. - Tom, you don't call GEICO.
If they were to find out I was doing stakeouts
and grilling kids at grade schools, I'm done, Tom.
- We got to call the principal, my mom, or GEICO.
- No. - We got to call someone.
- We have one option and one option only.
We flee the state.
We live in the van until the heat dies down.
- I'm not living in a van with you.
- Fine. I'm gonna let you off here.
Just do one of those drop-and-roll things.
I can't have the license plate caught on camera.
- You want me to jump out of a moving van?
- I'm not gonna stop the van.
- No, you got to slow it down. - I'm not.
- I'm gonna kill myself. I'm gonna die.
- I'm not gonna stop, Tom. - You got a lot of problems.
You got a lot of issues to sort through.
- I'm not gonna dispute that, Tom.
[body thuds]
[door chimes]
Oh, we got problems. We got problems, Manager.
They know it all-- the collusion, the bribes.
We got to run. - Tom.
- We got to get out of here. - Calm down.
- We got to skip town. - Tom, relax.
They settled the case, Tom.
- Settled the case? What does that mean?
- Corporate just called and said,
"We couldn't care less about the 40K.
Just pay the kid and be done with it."
- That's amazing. - Got a bottle of champagne
to celebrate right here. - Oh, I obviously can't drink.
- What? In some cultures,
you're old enough to get married.
- Very few, very few cultures.
- Tom, if you're enough to push a cart,
you're old enough to party. - All right.
As long as you're signing off on it.
[grunts] Oh, wow, this is not easy.
[grunting]
Here, hold me. Hold my shoulders.
- All right. I'll put one foot on your back.
- Come on, get out. Go, go.
[cork pops, thuds] - My eye!
- Oh, no! - Aah!
I came to pick up my check, and now I'm blind.
Who did this? Is anybody gonna help me?
- Oh, God, this is bad.
Negligence, underage drinking. - All right, listen.
I won't tell anyone you encouraged
the underage drinking.
Just keep that mayo and canned peaches
coming our way. - Deal.
Now get the hell out of here.
[door chimes]
- Too--too many crimes, Tom, too many crimes.
- Does he know that we're recording all of this?
- He's just not good at this stuff the way I am, Dad.
- I never should have lied to the cop.
Once he pointed to his penis,
I should have gotten out of there.
[rock music]
[distant siren wailing]
- Hey, Dakota's Dad, thanks again for doing my taxes.
- No problem.
My wife dislikes you intensely,
so this is like a small victory for me.
- Dislikes me or my--or my mom?
- Eh, a little from column A, a little from column B.
Let me ask you, how comfortable are you with some mild lying?
- I would describe my comfort level
as high to extremely high.
- Mom. - Good.
Because I'd like to claim Tom's backpack
as a business expense.
- What did it cost? - Nothing.
It was a gift from my grandma.
- Just put down 1,000 bucks.
- 1,000? No, Mom, please.
What are you writing down? Don't write that down.
- And the ice-cream truck Tom sank,
that sounds like a capital-gains loss.
- True that. Put her down. - Well, that you can't say,
'cause we literally never owned it.
- I have a question-- if my husband
is nailing a masseuse in Myrtle Beach,
can I claim her as a dependent? - Oh, my God.
- Why not? - What?
- If she's sucking your dad's wiener,
she's draining your finances.
- Why are we even saying the word "wiener" in this room?
- Tom, it's a repeating expense.
We got to claim it.
- I got to put my foot down. You got to stop.
Unplug the computer. Do something.
[rattling] Ouch.
- Tom, who's the accountant here?
Me or you? - I guess you.
- Exactly. Now, take my laptop
and go watching "Finding Dory" or some other kid shit.
- I knew this would be awkward.
This is just taking it to another level.
Okay, "Finding Dory."
Which folder am I looking in?
"Personal," "Travel,"
"Church Bullshit," "Wife Nonsense"...
Oh, "Dakota's Dad's Movies." All right, there we go.
- Oh, hello, sexy stepson. - Hello, sexy stepmom.
- That's weird. I thought it was animated.
- May I come in? - Yes.
- Where are all the fish? What's going on here?
- I love your Eastern European boobs.
- I will shake them for you.
- Why is this guy taking off his pants?
- Ooh, so forbidden.
- Oh, this is so wrong but so right.
- Boobs? Wait! Oh, no! Oh, don't look! Forbidden!
Where's the volume? Stop! - Sexy stepmother! Yes!
- Yes, my son by marriage! [line trilling]
Yes! - Hey, oh, Nelson here.
- Nelson, I got a problem. - "Problem"?
Man, you got to call my burner phone for problems.
- It can't wait. I borrowed a laptop.
I think I opened a dirty movie.
- You think? - I'm seeing boobs.
I'm seeing rear ends. - All right, Tom.
All right, I need you to empty the browser cache.
- What's a browser? - Clear the history.
- Nelson, I'm not a computer guy.
You know that. - Okay, Tom, look--
- Why do you sound so relaxed?
Are you on a hammock right now?
- I am on a hammock, but look--
- Get off the hammock. - All right. All right.
All right. I'm off the hammock now.
- No, you're not. You're useless.
I'm hanging up. - Take a screenshot!
- [groaning] - Stop playing filthy things!
[laptop whirs]
That sounded good.
The movie went away.
- Inheritance tax is a tricky area,
but I'm gonna put down 1,000 bucks.
- Great. [computer chimes]
- No, no, no, no, no, no.
I'll be right back.
[running footsteps departing]
[door opens] - Oh, boy.
- [whistles] - Tom.
- Hey, Double D. - An email was sent
from my laptop with a link to a movie
called "Eastern European MILFs."
- What's a MILF? Where's Eastern Europe?
I don't even know what you're talking about.
- Oh, don't play dumb.
You emailed it to my Bible study group.
Now you need to take the blame.
- What? - You're the fall guy.
- I didn't see the movie! I literally saw one boob
for, like, three seconds. - Come on, Tom.
- Where are we going? - Don't worry
about where we're going.
- Should I call my mom?
- Don't call your mom.
What are you, a little baby boy?
- What are we even doing? - You are going to make
a shameful apology video. - Oh, no.
- Read these cards, word for word.
- "Hi. My name is Filthy Tom"?
I'm not reading that. - Word for word, Tom.
Or your mom's refund goes bye-bye.
- No refund if I don't read it? - Zip.
And I'm telling everyone that you looked at boobies.
- All right. Last time we ask you
to do our taxes, I'll say that much.
[camcorder beeps] - Action.
- Hi, there. My name is Filthy Tom.
And I've been a bad, bad boy?
I recently hacked into Dakota's dad's laptop
and blasted out a filthy email saying,
"Hey, check out these Eastern European MILFs."
Why did I do this? - Say it.
- Because I'm filthy and disgusting
and Dakota's dad-- I can't say this.
- Word for word, Tom.
- Dakota's dad is a wholesome man
with a great physique for a man of his age.
Thank you. - Hey, that was great.
- That was great? - I-I'm proud of you, Tom.
You're like the son I never had.
- You have a 12-year-old son. He's on my baseball team.
- Oh, right, that guy.
- I'm so disgusted with you, Tom.
- I'm disgusted with myself.
- You coined your own nickname? - It got away from me.
- Why would you make up a nickname like that?
- I don't know. I thought it was catchy.
But in retrospect, I shouldn't have.
- Well, you ruined your reputation,
and we're gonna fix it fast.
I want you to go ask the priest for a baptism.
- Just demand a baptism? - Yes.
Don't even ask. Demand a baptism.
- Hey. Are you the boss here?
- The boss? I mean, I'm the priest.
- I was hoping you could bang out a quick baptism real quick.
- Just slam one out? - If you could.
If it's not too much trouble. - You know, I'm looking at you.
Aren't you--you're the kid who sent the email, right?
I believe they call you Filthy Tom.
- No, that nickname's not really catching on.
- Made its way to me, so I guess it did catch on.
Let's work our way up to a baptism, all right?
- Work our way up to it? - If you want to get involved,
why not start out as an altar boy?
- Oh, no.
No, I wouldn't-- - Yes.
Yes. - That's a whole other world.
That's a whole other subculture
I don't want to get involved in.
- That sounds great. - No, no, no.
I-I got a full schedule.
I got wiffleball, I got-- - He'll take the job.
He'll quit wiffleball, and he'll take the job.
- No. What does--what does an altar boy do exactly?
- A lot of lighting candles,
ringing bells, wearing robes.
- I don't know. I'm not a big robe guy.
- You don't have to really love robes to wear a robe.
- Hey, Tom. - Oh, hey.
Randy, you're an altar boy. - Yeah.
How do I look? - Kind of weird.
- What? - What does the job pay?
- Um, we get paid in God's glory.
- Are you joking? - Uh, no.
- Let me get this straight. You wake up on a Sunday.
- Mm-hmm. - You light candles,
ring bells... - No, we--
- Wear an ill-fitting robe... - I mean--
- And you don't get any money?
- Just let this go, all right, man?
Okay, folks, before we start,
I want to introduce our newest altar boy, Tom.
- Thank you, everyone.
People are calling me Religious Tom.
It's just a nickname. Thank you, though.
- All right, Tom. I was just introducing you.
You don't need--there's no, like, speech you need to make.
- Filthy Tom?
I guess they're just letting anyone in now.
- Just anybody.
- That's my religious son up there.
He doesn't look at Eastern European porn.
What? He reads the Bible.
- Our altar boys are going
to pass the collection plate around.
Well, while they do that, let's open our hymnals
to page 423.
- Tom? - Yeah?
- You got me thinking.
Why in the mother-effing hell are we not getting paid?
- Don't say "mother-effing hell." What are you doing?
- We work our asses off every Sunday
to get paid in God's glory?
Eh, news flash--that is not a type of currency.
- Forget I said anything. Forget I--
- Tom. - You got to shut up.
You got to shut up. - It's the weekend.
And we're indoors wearing goddamn robes.
- Even in a non-church setting, it's too much cursing.
- I mean, look at me. I'm ringing a bell?
[bell rings] Who does that?
[bell ringing] Is this fun?
- Randy, stop.
- We should be at Nelson's pool party right now.
- Honestly, I don't think you were invited.
- But if I was, I should be doing things like that.
- You're not well-liked.
- Because I'm hanging out at this flophouse.
Meet me backstage, okay? Let's talk.
All right. All right. All right. Okay.
Everybody, huddle up.
Tom here has a great idea... - No.
- That's gonna take us from being altar boys
to altar men. - No, leave me out of this.
- I agree with Tom that God wants us
to be paid a fair wage. - I never said that.
- Starting today, we're gonna skim 10% off the top.
Just like they did in "Casino." - Oh, yeah.
- No, we're not. - Then we're gonna
tape the money to Tom's body... - That's a great idea.
- Like in "Wolf of Wall Street."
- Please, no. - And then Tom
will sneak it out of the building little by little
like in "Shawshank." - I've never seen
any of these movies. I don't even--
- You can just read the plot summaries.
We stash the money at your house...
- Oh, my God. - Till we're 18.
And then we move to Mexico
or whatever happened at the end of "Shawshank."
I haven't seen it either.
- I just can't get in trouble.
- [scoffs] There's no risk. - Yeah.
- All the scrutiny is on the priests these days,
so altar boys can get away with literally anything.
They want us to. "Payback"!
Have you seen that Mel Gibson movie, "Payback"?
- You know I haven't seen it. - Here's the plan.
I'll put away the candles. Ryan, fold up the robes.
And the rest of you, tape the money to Tom's body
so we can smuggle it out.
Amen.
- Why do I have to smuggle it out?
- Oh, sorry. I-I already said "amen."
- What does that mean?
- Once I say "amen," there's no going back.
[lively music playing] - Turn up the jams, dudes.
Let's get this party started.
- Oh, Tommy Tom. - It's about time.
I only can make so much small talk with Dakota.
- Yeah, we have very little in common.
- Well, let's have fun now.
Ahh, all right. - Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Get up, man. We're about to play volleyball.
- Oh, no, it's Sunday. Can't play sports on Sunday.
- But you just said--
- I'm a churchgoing guy. I just want to relax.
You guys have fun. I'm gonna take a nap and read the Bible.
- Read the Bible? What?
- I don't want to get in a pool with a bunch of sinners!
- Did you just call us sinners?
- What are you trying to tempt me into the pool for?
- Tom, shut up and get in the pool!
- This is blasphemy. It really is.
- Take it off, man. Come on.
- Get up. Get him. - Stop. Hey.
Hey, please. Hey. - Take it off.
- Don't. No, please.
- Whoa. - Oh, what the hell?
- What's wrong? My physique or the money?
- What's going on, Tom?
You got, like, $40 taped to your chest.
- This is the way I carry my money.
My mom doesn't trust banks.
- Tom, Tom, I don't know what kind
of "Wolf of Wall Street" stuff you caught up in,
but, I mean, we need to talk.
- How did everybody see this movie except me?
All right, let's not make a big thing of this.
Let's just go back to the pool party.
- Tom, you're in a crisis mode, man.
Focus here! - Okay, that's a bit much.
- Thomas, in general terms, what you've gotten into?
- In general terms, I mean,
it's just a large organization smuggling funds...
- Oh, my God. - And I'm the mule, I suppose.
- Wha-- - I mean, is that even a crime?
- That's the definition of a crime!
- Is it? Being a mule is a crime?
- Dakota, kill the music! - What?
- Oh, don't kill the mus--no. - Destroy your phones.
Yellow tape around the pool right now.
- Okay! - Everybody, leave.
- Running! Aah!
- The party's not relaxing.
- Your only play is to be a rat, Tom.
- A rat? I'll get in trouble. I'm doing the crime.
- No, no, the first to talk always gets
a slap on the wrist. - Oh, really?
- Now, grab one of Nelson's suits
and get yourself down to the IRS.
- IRS? This is the worst pool party I've ever been to.
- Tom, buddy, I got to tell you,
I'm proud of you for doing this.
- "Proud"? I was a mule in an embezzling scheme
against the church. - Yeah.
But you're ratting on the altar boys.
You're incorruptible-- purest of the pure right here.
Little rat mule. - That's true.
All right. Well, wish me luck.
- While you're in there, see if they have my refund check.
- I'm on it.
[door closes] - Okay, son.
It's a really brave thing you're doing here.
Just state your name
and tell me everything right into the camera here.
- [distorted voice] All right, name is Tom,
and I have come here to blow the whistle
about a scandal unfolding at the church.
- Nope. Yeah, got to stop you there, buddy.
- [normal voice] What's wrong?
- Don't really care about all that church stuff?
- What's this? - They're tax-exempt,
so we really don't have any jurisdiction over them.
- No, the altar boys are stealing money.
They're gonna move to Mexico.
- Doesn't matter. - Are you getting this?
- The church, they do whatever they want.
- Tell the guy to hit record at least.
- You know what? Bob, go ahead and hit record.
I do have a few questions for you.
- Okay. - As a standard action,
we did pull your mother's tax return.
- Oh, I'm not here for that.
- And we've got some questions for you.
- [distorted voice] No comment.
- $1,000 for a backpack? - I don't have a backpack.
- Capital-gains loss on an ice-cream truck?
- I plead the fifth.
- Claiming a masseuse named Tina as a dependent?
- As I understand it, if she's sucking my dad's dong,
she's draining our finances.
- Whoa, yes. Well, we got it on tape.
- [normal voice] What? - You're a brave kid, Tom.
Not a lot of kids are willing to rat on their own mom
like you just did.
- ♪ Money, money, money all the time ♪
♪ What I'm thinkin' 'bout ♪ [knock on window]
♪ Bitches on my mind all the time... ♪
- Hi, ma'am.
Can we have a quick word with you?
- Oh, is this about my tax refund?
- You think I'd come tap on your window about a refund?
No, it's about tax evasion.
Your son just ratted on you.
- Um, I don't have a son.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Bye. [engine turning over]
- ♪ Remember there's more road ♪
♪ And places to go ♪
♪ Patterns to contemplate ♪
♪ More people to fornicate ♪
♪ And remember there's a lot of good omens ♪
♪ Supplying the proof ♪
♪ That our life is the best joke ever told ♪
♪ Remember it's a joke and leave it alone ♪
♪ Let go and try to be always abiding ♪
♪ Remember if there's one good reason for dying ♪
♪ The sweet silver lining ♪
♪ Through you she lives on ♪
♪ And therein lies a truth we can sip when we want ♪
♪ Disciples of the flow, we can float anywhere ♪