I love getting in super early.
I can go over all the stories for today's paper,
respond to emails.
"If" I have the time, one of my favourite things to do
is to come in here in the morning and dig out a forty...
- Hi... - What the?!
What are you doing? What?
I, um, just got here a little early, so I figured...
You're in pyjamas.
- You're sleeping here? - Y-Yes.
My building, the plumbing stopped working two days ago,
and it's really disgusting. - OK.
- Did you tell the landlord? - Yes. Yes. It's the whole building.
God, what's that smell?
I'm doing what I can.
It's not a bad smell.
If you want, you can go to my place and take a shower.
- Uh, while I stay here, I mean. - I know.
- Would that be weird? - No. No, no, no. It's easy peasy.
- There's a really nice shampoo. Don't use that. - OK.
And there's some towels that you should hang up after you...
I'll write you out a list. - Yeah, k-keys and address, and I'm there.
- Sure. Yeah. - Thank you.
- C'mere. - Oh...
- Are you holding your breath? - No...
..it smells good.
Ned's water pressure is crazy good.
Pushes you around the shower like a little bully.
It turns out there's a giant clog
backing up Mare's entire neighbourhood.
It's not just her building.
Ned's super excited about this story.
He thinks it's our Flint water crisis.
I agree, it's a legit story.
It's a damn disaster.
My girlfriend's from this neighbourhood,
and she's been living at my apartment this whole time.
OK, it is true the city is taking its time fixing the clog.
Uh, residents are stuck using port-a-potties.
- There's port-a-potties?! - Mm-hm.
C'mon, Roxanne!
Oh, my goodness.
Why are there children and mothers everywhere?
Is Group C boarding on a Southwest flight?
They're uh... They're holding commercial auditions
for Kid Mitts in the conference room.
Man Mitts sales are already so encouraging,
we have decided to expand the brand.
Next stop, Kid Mitts. Coming this fall.
Our ad agency has been scouring Midwest middle schools,
lookin' for a Petey, The Hasty Wiper.
We need a little face with real star power
to launch Kid Mitts,
since Man Mitts is our most valuable product.
Ned and I have had one or two rather heated debates
as to how best to get the word out. We had one yesterday.
I'm not calling your ass-wiping glove the "penicillin of personal hygiene".
Just because it happens to be owned by the same company
that owns the newspaper -Yes! Separation of church and state.
But there are occasions when church and state need to team up!
- Like what? The inquisition? - C'mon, mate. It writes itself.
In fact, it has written itself. It's all there.
Ooh! No... No, not in the wastebasket!
Get out!
My son, Matteo, is very talented. Very Chalamet.
From Dune, not Wonka.
- I was in the middle of a math test. - So what?!
Addition, subtraction, who do you wanna be when you grow up?
A florist?!
What do you think the clog is gonna be?
- Tree roots? - My guess is restaurant grease.
Travis bet me it'd be an alligator corpse.
- Here she comes. - Why is a sewer blockage a "she"?
Uh...
- What does that look like to you? - What?
Is that...? Holy crap.
Man Mitts. See how the fingers link up?
It's the hands across America of sewer clogs!
And I don't care if that reference dates me.
- But the Man Mitt is flushable. - Is it?
The sewer guy said there was, like,
fifty yards of them jammed in the pipes.
He said it looked like hundreds of Mickey Mouses
had been caught stealing by the Taliban.
I just swore to Ken that I'd never write about the parent company.
Screw it. My star reporter needs to bathe.
I wonder what Marv'll do if we publish it.
"If" we publish it?
- When we publish it. - You're smiling.
So are you. Psycho.
Uh... I think I left my bagel in the bathroom.
I pick my enemies carefully.
And the name on my paycheque will not be one of them.
And there goes Nicole, making her brave stance on the sidelines.
We need proof. Of what they know...
..and when they knew it.
Who can we trust?
Oh, I know who'll talk to me.
Kimbo... ..was her name-O.
- How ya doin'? - Hey.
Uh, can we talk about somethin'? Girl to girl?
- Of course, Mare Bear. - Girl on girl, hot, gorgeous braid.
- Is it somebody's birthday? - I mean...
every Wednesday's someone's birthday.
When's yours, blondie?
So, um, the Man Mitt.
- You guys've been movin' a lot of those bad boys lately, huh? - Yep.
OK, here's my question:
have you guys gotten any complaints that they're not actually flushable?
Get off my desk.
"Thanks to Kid Mitts, I have more time with this mitt."
Holds up a baseball glove.
Where does it say the character took Xanax?!
Amore, I'm thinking about dinner tonight.
You know, I would love to make your favourite:
spaghetti pomodoro and French fries.
I'll make them for you.
But if you don't learn this, forget about dinner.
No lines, no dinner! OK?!
"And the best thing is,
I'm not itchy down there cos I know I'm getting everything."
Nicole. Detrick. Adam. Adelola.
Can you come see me, please?
Can you blur my face?
I love my Enervate family, I'm only here because Ned is making me.
You're my hero, Nicole.
- Oh, um... Travis. - Yeah?
I'm sorry, but we are working on something
that might compromise Softees.
I have to ask you to recuse yourself from this one.
Damn. OK. I understand, sir.
I guess you'll want my press badge back.
Oh, that's not necess... Where'd you get that?
- I made it. - Oh, then I might take it, I guess.
- Ned. Ned... - No. - Yes.
- No, no, no. No. Stop. - Yes, yes, yes.
I have just heard that one of your reporters
has broken the church-state barrier,
and is reporting on Man Mitts.
I said, "That's impossible", because previously,
you had a very principled hissy fit saying you wouldn't do that.
So I want you to shut that down.
This is your first and only warning.
- You don't have the authority to do that. - Shut it down.
That's your second, real warning. Marv is on vacation.
And I am not permitted to get a hold of him.
I cannot do what you're asking me to do.
"Ye shall follow the truth wherever it shall lead."
What's that from?
- You used to work in Sales, didn't you, for Softees? - Mm-hm.
I suspected that maybe you would bleed purple behind that, um,
milk fish complexion.
You need to stop this right now, Ned.
And you can consider that your final warning,
and you needn't think there won't be more where that came from.
- Ken. - Yeah.
- Get out of my newsroom. - Careful.
Let's go!
Felt good.
Thank you very much. Alright. So.
S'cuse me. Roll back. Roll back.
Detrick, you work in Sales, don't you? Come with me.
We need to empty the entire Softees warehouse before this story breaks,
and that is going to be a bit difficult,
as our buyers have already placed their orders for the month.
But I'm sure you can handle it. Accountants?
Who are the accountants? You work for both,
so you have to go back to neutral Switzerland.
Thank you very much. Barry?
- Barry! - Yeah.
You have seniority. You are in charge of everything newspaper.
Love that.
I guess this leaves the four of us to break the story.
First order of business: "Charlie's Angels.
Too sexy for prime time?" A pro and con on my desk in 15.
- Three of us. - Mm-hm.
Cute kid. Congratulations.
You know, I worry about him having a career.
Because you see what happens to these child actors?
Well, they start heroin really early. Like...
Sometimes, they vomit on you. Then they prostitute themselves, yes.
He doesn't look like, but he will.
And then one day they just stab you in the bed, and that's it.
Lot of blood.
- Mom! - One down.
And each finger is stitched separately. Interesting.
You'd think a fibre this inexpensive would disintegrate,
but it can actually withstand a 95mph ground stroke.
- It's pretty insane, right? - Yeah.
Now, would you say it's flushable?
What... What makes you ask that?
Hey, are you two from the newspaper?
Oh... maybe.
Uh, Patrick, they say they were big fans of fabric science,
I just wanted to give 'em a demonstration. - Dammit, Albert.
You're the one who's telling me to be more trusting...
- Thanks, fellas. - Thank you guys.
- I never said that. - What's wrong with the... What paper? What...
Do they not have clearance? How was I supposed to know that?
Hey, what am I missing?
We are running an insane promotional amendment right now,
if you wanna double your usual order.
Would I flush these mitts in my own home?
Um, ma'am, that-that-that's a complicated question.
My biggest flaw as a salesman?
Uh, not too many, but I will say,
I can't sell anything that I don't believe in.
And I don't believe you need a wet glove to use the bathroom.
This is a competitive market, OK?
People say all sorts of things to discredit a bestselling wipe.
You know what I heard about Fem Dabs?
They make you go blind.
Hello? Ugh! Dammit!
I aspire to be the perfect corporate yes-man.
I co-sign every single email I'm CC'd on.
Doesn't matter what it says. The important thing is:
you get a co-credit on all the decisions being made.
And I print out every single email,
so there's proof of my involvement for when the spoils are divvied up.
But under Ned's new media regime,
that paper trail could absolutely wreck me.
- Hello, Travis. - Hello, Ken.
I was wondering if I could ensure unsavoury services
to get rid of some documents. - Well, that depends.
Are you willing to follow me to a second location without question?
- Yes, sir. - And a third, if need be?
I'd rather just start at the third. And then maybe move onto a fourth.
- So the Brit means business. - He does.
Let's go then. Parking lot, ten minutes.
- Be there or be square. - OK. Just... yeah.
Yeah, people tend to just trust me.
It's somethin' about the beard and soft eyes combination.
People say I look like a young Kris Kringle.
I've logged you into my old Softees email account.
They CC'd me on basically everything,
so there might be something interesting in there.
You're letting us go through your emails?
I'd rather set myself on fire than let you see my emails.
- What do I have to hide? - Wait, what's this?
Hey, Dante. What's good? How many units did you move last week?
- I dunno, 20? - 20?! I move more units
to trick-or-treaters on Halloween, and I live in a cul-de-sac!
You clearly don't want it, dawg. Dante clearly doesn't want it.
- You can turn this off. - What is this?
It's... They used to make me do motivational sales videos,
but you... you should turn it off. - No, no.
- Could we just watch, like, one minute of it, please? - Alright.
I'm... I know it's dumb, though, so.
You all wanna know how to sell like me?
Well, bad news: I can't tell you that.
I can't give you the keys to this Porsche.
It only starts for me and my fingerprint ignition.
You know that wasn't cheap. But here's the thang.
- "Thang"? - Each and every one of you
has your own luxury vehicle hidden inside you.
'You've just gotta figure out what starts your engine!'
So let me hear your engines.
C'mon!
- Now open 'em up, fellas! - Wow. Vroom! Vroom-vroom-vroom!
Alright, fine, I know it's a little cheesy.
You looked like... You look like 25% more oily!
You looked flammable!
OK. Yeah, alright, the hair's a little bit...
But, uh, the look is an important part, so...
You looked like if Draco Malfoy had a cocaine problem.
Well, it was a very demanding job,
and I made a lot of money for the company...
So maybe we just go back to the emails.
Aw, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I... I hurt your feelings.
No! No, not at all. I like it! I like being ribbed.
You look like Macaulay Culkin, now.
You look like an asshole.
I think it's important we can make fun of each other.
I think it's a really fun thing to do,
but that's not who I am anymore, OK?
Maybe we can just... move on with our lives.
- Get back to work. - Totally. - Yeah.
You look like if bottle service was a person.
- Ha! - Sorry, I haven't been able to get mine in.
"I don't have all day to make sure I got it all.
Thanks to Kid Mitts, I have more time to be a kid."
Maybe now try that last line with a little more enthusiasm. Yeah?
"Thanks to Kid Mitts, I have more time to be a kid."
- OK, that was great. - Yeah, no, no, no. Sorry. Sorry.
Do my rewrite. You know, I'm a journalist.
I like writing, so... Yes, do it! Do it.
"I was born filthy in sin. So-"
Not that one. The second one.
"It's baseball season, and the only stains
my single mom should be getting out of my pants are grass stains."
- No, OK... just a second. - Are you OK? Oh, wow.
Give me the sides. Amore. Just a second.
Do you think we can play with this a bit?
For the kid, you know? He's a bit tense. OK, great.
So I am the young mom, OK?
"Hey, sweetheart! How was soccer today?!
There is a lightening storm!
Oh, my God!
I just switched bodies with my mom!
She has my body now, and I am the beautiful woman!
Wow!
Oh, this is how it feels to have clean underwear?
I'm going to spend her money to buy the wipes I need to clean myself!"
Ha! I mean, this is just one direction.
And there are many other possibilities, you know? Millions.
- Wow. - Millions.
Did I say half-off? I meant it's double half-off.
Well, would you... No, no, no! Wait, wait, wait! Ah!
That will be just fine, Captain. This is good.
Nah, we gotta go about a half a click further.
We're not going any more clicks further.
I'm pulling rank. This is perfect.
- Hello, moorhens. - Those are moorhen ducks.
- How'd you know that? - Oh, I know my ducks.
- Nice. - Another?
- Yeah. - Goodbye.
- Wait. Shh-shh-shh-shh. - Did you hear that? - No.
I don't think we're alone.
I think someone's watching us.
Who else is here, Travis?
Where the hell have you brought us?
- Ow! - Rat on that, tattletales!
Hey! We're neutral! Leave us alone!
Hey, millennials, it's not toilet papering
if you're just tossing rolls of paper at someone's head.
There's an art to it.
Detrick!
- Freakin' nice! - My family budget thanks you!
A little more bullying?
Maybe some tissue boxes or diapers or something?
Aw.
Knock it off.
Bloody hell.
- Well, well, well. - Yeah.
Here they all are.
I would love to know what you're all doing here.
- Ken. - Mm? - We don't have time for this.
Cos I know that you wouldn't continue to write
a defamatory piece about Man Mitts
once I had specifically forbidden you not to.
Our warehouse is still half-full.
I can't afford your precious conscience.
So by the powers invested in me by Marv not being here,
I declare this article cancelled.
The state has shut down the churches.
Then the church...
..condemns you to hell.
Ineffective. The church is out of business.
Then I resign.
- Dude. - Do you?
Yeah. I mean it.
- You shut this down, I resign. - Well, that would be delightful.
But have you got the nuts for it?
- Oh, I have the nuts. - Do you?
You wanna see my nuts? I'll show everyone my nuts right now.
Excuse me, everyone! Can I have everyone's attention?
Anyone who works for The Truth Teller or has ever.
Ned. You're being a little bit of a hot head right now.
Oh, well, am I hot head or an oily head? Make up your mind.
- Oh, my God. Is that why you're actually mad? - Take a seat.
Excuse me, everyone! I have something...
..very noble to say. Do I have your attention?
Good. OK.
I have to do something very important right now,
and very, very difficult.
We didn't ask to write a story
about the flush-ability of Softees Man Mitts.
That story came to us and it demanded to be told.
So now, I must do that which every newsman dreads:
I must sacrifice myself for the good of the paper and the community...
..by resigning as Editor in Chief of the Toledo Truth Teller.
If you must shed tears, do not shed them on my account,
shed them for justice, because justice has not been served today.
As my final act, before this historic resignation,
I hereby appoint Mare Pritti
as Acting Editor of my beloved Truth Teller.
OK.
Heavy lies the crown.
- Hey, Ned? - Yeah.
Just let me know where you want me to send your last paycheque.
Excuse me. Miss Casting Person?
Oh, God.
When we read the sides, we couldn't believe it.
Matteo, he runs into my bath, crying.
"Mama, Mama! They wrote my story! This is me!"
Your mom sure is something, huh?
Yeah.
Hey, do you ever hear of grey-rocking?
- No. - OK, it's what I use on my mom.
My mom's a pretty toxic narcissist. She loves drama.
So whenever she got into one of her moods,
I'd make myself as uninteresting as possible.
Like a little grey rock.
Grey-rocking. Huh.
Thank you.
Maybe I shouldn't've gotten involved,
but I just wanted to give the kid a fighting chance.
Oh, and the little "I'm like you" routine?
Don't believe it. My mother was a saint.
That old man's a narcissist
if he thinks I'm gonna listen to him over my own mom.
That guy doesn't buy my Wendy's.
Try our new Greek bowl.
There's always a bowl, isn't there, in America?
Everything's bowls with you guys.
Oh, hello.
- Can we talk? - Of course we can.
- Your prints are all over the Man Mitts prototype. - Mm.
- "I champion this. Ken Davies." - Mm.
-"The innovation we need. Ken Davies." -Mm?
- "Love it! More! Yum, yum. Ken Davies." - "Ken Davies."
I've been blackmailed by enough women over the years
to know when they're in it for the thrill
or when they actually want something. On with it.
I want you to let us publish this.
So Ned can un-resign without looking like a wuss.
Listen here, darling. If Marv comes back,
and there's a warehouse full of unsellable toilet mitts-
-I know. -I think The Truth Teller'll be the least of his concerns.
We're in the same doomed boat, honey.
Hm.
- I'll let you in on a little secret. - Mm-hm?
I happen to know someone for whom nothing is unsellable.
- The paper needs you. - We need the sales, Ned.
The paper needs me.
You're the only one who can save us.
I wish I was man enough to do it myself...
..but I'm not.
I'm sorry. It's just... I think it's the only way.
Hm.
C'mon. Go rev up that engine, Sampson.
- I would say don't look at me... - Ah.
- They always end up looking. - Mm.
Alright!
Woo! C'mon, guys!
We got some mitts to sell! All eyes on me.
These are no longer wipes for poop that we flush down the toilet!
These are kitchen wipes that you throw in the trash!
Alright? All-purpose, all-surface, sturdy, ergonomic kitchen wipes.
- You got it? You got it?! - Yes.
Yes! OK, stick and sell, people! Stick and sell!
- Lovin' this, Ned. - Yes, could I speak to Jeff Arrington, please?
Thank you very much. Hey! Jeff.
My name's Ned Sampson, I'm here with Softees Corporate.
I'm sure that you have heard of us. I've definitely heard of you,
cos I work out in your gyms five days a week.
Jeff, you've changed my life, so I'm about to change yours.
Does that sound good? Pfft, that sounds great.
I could gab all night, but nothin' I say
is gonna compare with slippin' one of these miracle kitchen mitts
on your own mitt and going to town on a soiled surface.
Better yet, I can offer you a 30% discount
if you take it gross right now.
OK, and when did you first notice the sewage smell in your kitchen?
Just the sound of a grain silo, Nicki,
brings me back to my summer job. Just the sound of a nail salon,
Lee, it brings me back to my summer job.
You're an ultimate frisbee guy?! I'm an ultimate frisbee guy!
You're a cutter?! I'm a handler! Sick!
Woo!
Woo-hoo!
OK, and who's responsible for maintaining the trunk line?
- Interesting. - It's a chopstick wipe, Mae!
Of course it's a chopstick wipe! That's what it was made for!
Alright, you can get back next month.
Did you say your home became a "literal hell" or a "living hell"?
I just wanna hear those two words: I'm in.
Say it. Say it. Say it. Say it. Say it. Beautiful!
Woo! Yeah!
Everybody, dance! Everybody, dance! Everybody, everybody, dance!
Everybody, everybody, everybody, everybody,
Everybody, everybody, dance!
How did we get here?
Thank you very much, sir. It's a pleasure doing business with you.
Boom! That's the one!
That's the one, baby! All the way up!
Sometimes, the best way to serve the paper
is by publishing an important story.
Sometimes, it's by quitting.
And sometimes, it is by selling
a boatload of rebranded kitchen wipes.
Today, it was all three.
Like father, like son.
Kid Mitts get the job done.
Used mitts go in the trash, not the toilet.
The kid is OK. But his mother?
Embarrassing! I mean, what's wrong with her?
She has a stiff neck.
Excuse me, can I get your footage for my acting reel?