First off, I'd like to thank you all for being part of today's focus group.
My name is Alfred Winstanley, and in front of you
are serving bowls of our company's latest concoction. Please, enjoy.
Salty.
Tastes like the body of Christ at a local church.
Reminds me of the rations we ate in the cut. Yeah.
That unmistakable rush of stabbing a man in the throat with a bayonet.
What if I told you that you were eating none other
than the new-and-improved saltines from Royal Crackers, Incorporated?
Wait, is this the Royal Crackers building?!
Is that why we were blindfolded after being abducted?
Take us back to the DMV this instant!
Weren't these single-handedly responsible for a statewide polio outbreak?
Any man or child who falls to illness is dead weight.
Kick 'em out of the foxhole and let the artillery sort 'em out, I say.
I'll never give a dollar to your company
as long as Theodore Hornsby remains at the helm.
He's a monster! And quite the eyesore.
He's not more than a sad old man stuck in the past. And a bigot!
What the hell?
Well, well, well, where do... Fucking shit!
Where do I begin? Okay, you first! I'm an eyesore?
Why, if I hadn't shattered that two-way mirror,
I'd ask you to take a good look at yourself and explain how that crucifix
hasn't burned through that Nosferatu-like body of yours!
- Be gone, Satan. - You there!
You think I'm stuck in the past, unhip?
I've rubbed elbows with the likes of Buford Stanley and the Spinners,
Fred Gladys and the Brooklyn Berries,
Donald Grimley and the Puerto Rican Seven!
And then you have the nerve to call me a bigot?
I'm sorry, then why are there two Donald Grimley
and the Puerto Rican Seven albums in my record collection?
And you!
You're alright, actually. I like you. No notes! And you.
If I had any idea what race you were, I'd be having a field day right now. Good day!
So, due to Theo's provocative bleat, every network has stopped running our ads,
and supermarkets have pulled Royal Crackers from their shelves.
We're canceled.
It's been a fun ride. I don't know about you guys,
but I'm going out the old-fashioned way.
- Don't gotta twist my arm! - This is for Putin!
Everyone cool it! Look at yourselves!
Since when has a little bump in the road ever stopped us
from being the best snack-food company in the world?
We'll get through this. And we'll get through it... together.
The years I've wasted searching for such wisdom.
I bow to you, Steben.
But what about Putin?
Putin? I don't give a flyin' cuss about Putin. Or tootin'!
Did I do that?
I love you, Stebe!
Dad? I had another bad dream.
Would it be okay if maybe I slept in here tonight again?
Thanks, Dad.
Alright. Sleep time. Going to sleep.
Three, two, one, sleep.
One ticket to sleep land, please.
Oh, okay, guys. So first thing on the agenda... Theo's provocative bleat.
What?! I don't even have a Bleater account, moron!
Yeah, there's nothing on your agenda about that, Stebe.
In fact, It's just a drawing of... Is this a dog?
Yeah. Been having recurring nightmares
about a humanoid dog monster for six weeks now. Haven't slept a wink.
But creative juices are flowin', and I got a big announcement.
Maybe you should get some rest, hon. Go home and put on some...
Did someone say Putin?
Did I do that?
You need to see a doctor, my guy!
I have a big announcement! From the sick mind of Stebe Hornsby,
everyone make some noise for the new Royal Crackers mascot, Mr. Cracky!
- Oh, my God! - Fuck that!
Stebe, is this the creature from your nightmares?
Why would you pitch a mascot from your nightmares?! Get away from me, you freak!
Therapist said I gotta harness my fears through creativity.
Now I'm in the pilot seat.
I can't... breathe.
- Oh, my God! - Are you okay!
Do you love it!
Lady and gentleman, I'd like you all to meet Mr. Cracky,
a flamboyant cartoon dog that will serve as the mascot
for Royal Crackers' newest frontier!
Who drew that?
He did! I told him, it has too many colors!
No, it's wonderful!
Your childlike sensibility is exactly what we need around here!
- What?! - He's also much easier on the eyes.
So I know this board has voiced concern about our plummeting sales
and their correlation with public perception of me as CEO,
baseless accusations that I'm coldhearted, vain, narcissistic!
Well, would a narcissist create this?
HornsbyLand, a seaside theme park
that will provide fun for adults and younglings alike!
Visitors will be greeted by a beautiful 100-foot statue of myself and Mr. Cracky!
Oh, boy...
Enjoy a leisurely stroll through Cartoon Avenue
in your very own Mr. Cracky mobile.
Oh, I like that!
Now slam it into Howard Hughes' private airplane!
The Lindbergh Pursuit.
Can you out-pilot and expose him for the over-celebrated fraud that he is?
Or the Amelia Earhart Skynanza,
where you'll crash into the ocean, confirming everyone's well-placed biases!
Are you mad?!
Do you have some sort of resentment against aviation?
Now, I know what you're thinking...
"How do we skirt the unrelenting cost of beachfront property?"
This is Catalina Island, right off the California coast and free for the taking.
And this is Hornsby Bridge, the longest and most expensive bridge ever built!
Stop!
You want to turn Catalina Island into a tourist destination?
It's completely infested with the most ruthless savages known to man!
What? But... HornsbyLand!
Enough! You have done irreparable damage to this company,
and we will not stand by as you bankrupt it further
with your questionably motivated decisions.
I hereby call for a vote of no confidence!
All in favor of the immediate removal of this man,
sit perfectly still and gawk menacingly at him.
But I built this company from the ground up, all by my lonesome!
It's everything to me!
Mr. Hornsby, you are officially terminated as CEO of Royal Crackers.
Stebe? Stebe? I'm still looking to get that payment.
Oh, God!
Stebe, I'm not trying to make trouble here. You swore to pay the union minimum!
Go away! Get out of my dreams!
Look, I'm sorry the old guy had a heart attack, but that wasn't my fault.
I'm coming in, okay?
No! I hate you! Okay, Stebe, you do this, you escape this twisted nightmare
and wake up snuggling with your dad in his bed.
Stebe?
Get in!
Theo, you need to wake me up from this dream.
You're not dreaming, Stebe. And Mr. Cracky didn't come from your imagination.
Oh, yeah? Where'd he come from, then? My butthole?
Not exactly. Look in the glove box.
- My dick? - What? No! The plushy!
Listen, Alfred, I'm sure you think that my stepping down as CEO is all your fault.
Well, rest your concerns. After today, we'll be well on our way to becoming
America's newest theme park tycoons. Catalina Island is as good as ours!
I'm starting to have... second thoughts about our trip, sir.
Perhaps we can ask our pilot to take us home?
Pilot? Oh, right. I forgot he was up there. God, look at that piece of shit.
I mean, what a waste of space. You know his vote counts just as much as ours does,
you realize that, don't you? Makes me sick.
- Why do you have such animosity toward... - Alfred, look! There she is!
We should approach with caution, sir.
The locals are rumored to be quite volatile.
What are they gonna do? Fling sand at us from their swimming bottoms?
What the piss?
Fifty bucks, Stebe!
Mr. Hornsby! Put on a life preserver!
Don't be a coward, Alfred! By my count, we still have one working engine.
Take the wheel!
Jesus Christ! Who trained these barbarians? Lee Harvey Oswald?!
What are you doing?!
You wanna get out and face that genocide of a costume you created?
- Fair point. Reload! - Stebe, look out!
Armadillo!
Hang on, sir!
I can't hold on any longer!
I don't understand.
Does this mean Mr. Cracky is a pre-existing intellectual property?
I found that freak in a Chucklebee's claw machine a few years back.
I shattered the glass and snatched it and ran out of there,
but I passed out from blood loss before I could get to the exit.
Woke up a few hours later, and the staff was like,
"Here, take it! Get out of our restaurant!" Dumbasses!
You mean you were having these nightmares, too?
I thought I shook 'em for good,
but your little presentation just reopened Pandora's box.
HornsbyLand. What's a HornsbyLand?
I think today's the day we find out, Stebe.
I did some digging on AltaVista this morning and was able to find an address.
It's right on the other side of this bridge.
Rest easy, soldier. You died a hero's death.
I'll start making preparations for your burial at sea.
He does have a lot of meat on him, though.
Mr. Hornsby! Where's our pilot?
Trust me, you won't be seeing him again, not until he's on the "Dick Corbett Show"
promoting his exploitive tell-all recounting his brush
with death over Catalina.
Mr. Hornsby! Our seaplane! Perhaps the radio is still functional.
We can transmit an SOS to the coast guard so they can organize a search party.
This may be our only chance, Mr. Hornsby. We should tread lightly.
The island could be riddled with booby traps.
Mr. Hornsby?
Seaplane!
Well, Alfred, I'm afraid the naysayers may have been right... Catalina Island sucks.
Hey! Learn to control your children, you goddamn animals!
That's right! Run, you little scamps!
Mr. Hornsby, our pilot!
Oh, please! Please don't kill me! When I get home, I'll score a multi-book deal!
I'll cut you in!
Tell-alls about aviation disasters are the most lucrative cash-grab imaginable!
No, no, no! What are you doing?
Now's our chance. Stand back, Mr. Hornsby!
Alfred, where are you going? The seaplane is that way!
I'm going to rescue our pilot. We don't leave a soldier behind.
Is that right? Personally, I prefer soldiers who don't get caught.
Oh, what? Is that a crazy thing to say?
Oh, no, no, no, no!
Oh, please, oh, please, oh, no, oh, no.
Holy fucking shit! A chupacabra!
God in heaven!
Alfred, I think I'm ready to tell you why I have so much... hatred for pilots.
A few years ago,
I boarded a commercial airline flight coming home from Sacramento.
Everything was going smoothly till this flight captain's voice pierced
through the intercom with a disturbing announcement.
He said that the plane would be taking off shortly and he would be getting us
to Bakersfield Airport safely within the hour.
He would be getting me home safely.
He flaunted his control over my mortality like some sort of god amongst men.
Is that the end of the story, sir?
Wow, I've never opened up like that.
Feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
Please, take this tale to the grave with you.
Yes, I won't be telling a soul that story, sir.
What the fuck was that?!
By heavens!
Do you think...
Do I think that we just stumbled upon the egg of a chupacabra?! Hand me your coat!
We just found my star attraction, you idiot! A live chupacabra!
No! No, no, no, Mr. Hornsby, this is too much.
Let's just get out of the cave at once.
Hey, Alfred, ol' buddy. Do you perhaps care to explain this?
Mr. Hornsby, please! I'm not even sure I want the CEO position!
I opened up to you, told you that plane story! I never told anyone that before!
Well, you shouldn't have! It's barely even a story!
How could you do this to me?
Mr. Hornsby, give me the egg.
Why, so you can take it back to your little fan club on the board
and steal more of my achievements?!
Stand back, chupacabra! I wish this youngling no harm!
But I will drop this if you come any further.
So long, fuckos!
Oh, this motherfucker doesn't give up!
- Al?! - Theo! Steben!
Go no further! I beg of you!
- How did you find us? - Please, leave this cesspit at once!
Cesspit? Dude, this seems like it would be a dope vacation spot!
Catalina Island is a doomed lump of shit in a toilet of ocean water!
Years ago, your father and I ignored the warnings that,
if we came here, we'd never return home.
And I, fear the young idealist I was, never truly did.
Theodore, place the egg down now, and it might leave us alone!
Go suck a dick, Judas! Sorry, but there's only room for one on this seaplane!
Oh really!? Are you well-versed in operating a flight radio, sir?
Johnny's bananas! The radio is completely destroyed!
Theodore! Help! Help me, please!
Please, Theodore, try to start the plane! It's our only hope!
You want me to become a pilot?
Yes! I get it now! So much power!
Get me home safely, will you?
My whole life I've tried to protect the world from your father.
Don't let me fail once again. I even spent my own money on child psychologists,
who worked tirelessly to ensure you'd never remember this godforsaken place.
By venturing further, you would be undoing all of that.
Sorry, Al, but our father was a great man. And these nightmares stop tonight.
What a rush! Those Wright Brothers are the GOATs!
Mr. Hornsby?
And with my tell-all sitting comfortably at number one on the best-sellers list,
Royal Crackers sales numbers are officially back on the rise!
Thank you. Thank you, everybody.
Although, I am technically a god now, so I guess I shouldn't expect any less!
I can't believe we doubted you, Theodore.
Catalina Island is officially property of Royal Crackers Incorporated,
and HornsbyLand construction is moving along swiftly.
And completely free of cost. Mr. Hornsby, this board owes you quite the apology.
This board has nothing to apologize for. I can be a bit of a handful!
Wonderful to have you back, Theodore.
That Hornsby sure knows how to spin a turd into gold.
What the... Where is this taking us?
- Oh, what's happening? - Preposterous.
Oh, my God!
Why, there's those two little fucking assholes!
Don't touch me! This is a place of business!
Look what Daddy made all by his lonesome, boys!
Holy shit! Jesus Christ!
Fuck! Fucking shit!
No, no, no! No witnesses!
Alfred...
I hope my squashing of your little coup attempt doesn't make you feel small...
...and powerless. Water under the bridge, huh?
Well, look at that!
What timing! Better take it now.
Damn lift moves like a sloth on a tree. Go on. Take it. I insist. Take it.
Goodbye, Alfred. Bye-bye, now. Have a great weekend! Goodbye, Alfred!
Bye-bye, now!