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Ep53
This is a transcribed copy of Episode 53. Feel free to edit or add to this page, as long as the information comes directly from the episode.
Previous: Episode 52 Next: Episode 54

Saison: Hello. I think today I am having a craving for a croissant stuffed with pickles and corn dog, but instead of the hot dog in the middle of the corn dog, I would like some, how you say, Greek yogurt.
Belinda: Ughhh, and I'd like a Greek sailor with a big hot dog. Saison, here at Belinda's Organic Garden, I serve only fresh, locally sourced, organic food items that also happen to cost a shit-ton of money! All of which are on the chalkboard behind me.
Saison: Oh, okay, then I suppose I will have the french fries once again.
Belinda: Oh, oui oui. And by French fries, do you mean the organic baked sweet potato strips with the hand-ground natural sea salt?
Saison: Uh, oui.
Belinda: Okay, that will be fourteen seventy-five. Would you also like a compostable carrying satchel to carry your strips in?
Saison: Is it—
Belinda: Oh yes, it's extra.
Saison: Oui.
Belinda: Oh, thank you. The mindful decisions you have made today are very much appreciated by Mother Nature and my vaginal reconstruction fund.
Deandra: Goddamn, pickled croissants and Greek yogurt corn dogs, that baby sure knows how to eat!
Belinda: Hello Deandra.
Deandra: Oh hi Lunch Lady Belinda. Today I'm thinking I'd like a—uh, Saison? Did you, uh, did you just pee here? Because I seem to be standing in a pool of liquid that you left behind. I mean, I know you're pregnant, but you can't just go commando and waterfall wherever the fuck you want.
Saison: Oh no, Deandra, that is not my oui oui, but rather I believe my water may have, how you say, broken?
Deanddra: Oh your water broke? Oh, okay? So that means that you are—
Saison: Yes, I believe I am having my how you say, baby! Oh no! (the lineup runs away)
Belinda: Oh! Oh shit—! No don't—! Grrrrrr! Oh thanks a lot Saison, you know, they're goes my big Thursday lunch rush! God, I hope the paramedics like gluten-free, vegan pepperoni pizza.
Deandra: There's no time for paramedics, Belinda. This baby's coming, and this baby's coming now.
Belidna: Wait, what? Saison, you know, there's still time to have an abortion. Look, I'm sorry, Deandra, how do you even know—
Deandra: Because I'm a registered midwife goddammit! So you can either help me or you're gonna have a child die in your lunch room today!
Belinda: Well uh, I gotta be honest, that would not be the first time that a—
Deandra: Shut up and get me some goddamn wet rags!
Belinda: Oh, forceful! Alright.
Deandra: Alright, Saison, first thing, I'm gonna need you to elevate your legs.
Saison: Ah Deandra, are you positive that you know how to—
Deandra: Saison! I know what I'm doing! I took two semesters of Baby Boot Camp at the Atchison Community Center. It was just me, a bunch of expectant teens with bad judgment, and—
Trisha 2: Hey you guys! What are you doing? Eating fries and playing doctor?
Deandra: Trisha! Thank God you're here!
Saison: Bonjour!
Trisha 2: Hey Saison! Ooh, do you know your cunt's hanging out?
Deandra: Trisha, Saison is having her baby, I need you to go get me some paper towels!
Trisha 2: Alright!
Deandra: Okay, Saison, you don't need to worry, Trisha was the other girl in that class with me.
Trisha 2: Yeah, I didn't get a very good grade though, so I'm not a midwife, I'm just a doula. Cause I kept dropping the baby. I'm a lot better now though—(drops paper towel) Aw biscuits.
Deandra: Okay Trisha, I need you to stay here with Saison, I've gotta go get something, I'll be back super fast... Might as well take some sweet potato strips for the road. (eats them, but starts gagging) Ugh, those are not good, they are not good at all.
Mackenzie: Trisha, have you seen Brittnay?
Trisha: All the time, why?
Mackenzie: No, have you seen her today?
Trisha: Oh, uh, no, why?
Mackenzie: She seemed pretty upset after the parent-teacher conference. I just hope she didn't do anything stupid.
Trisha: Nah, Brittnay's pretty level-headed. I don't think she would ever—
Brittnay: (beats up locker) Take it, you bitch!
Mackenzie: Brittnay!
Brittnay: Oh, hey guys! What's up?
Mackenzie: What the fuck are you doing?
Brittnay: What does it look like I'm doing? I'm destroying Jenna Darabond's locker with a metal baseball bat.
Mackenzie: Gimme that! Did you not hear what Mr. McNeely said? If we do one thing to Jenna, that's the end of the cheer squad. We won't be able to go to State and Jenna and her little hipster army will have control of the school for good.
Brittnay: I. Don't give. A fuck! I want my revenge, and I want it now! Now! I want my revenge! I want my revenge! I want my revenge!
Mackenzie: (slaps Brittnay) Brittnay! Baby! Get a hold of yourself! I am sorry I had to smack you like that, but you have got to lock it up! We have come too far! Jenna Darabond is not like any other girl we've dealt with. She's not Shay Van Buren. She's not Tanya Berkowitz. Do you understand she's masterminded everything since the beginning? Cheer Nationals, the mall, it's all because of her. We can't just fuck with her. We have to systematically destroy her, brick by brick. Now, can you just trust that I have a plan? We are two weeks away, the football team is gonna win one more game, we all go to State and then Jenna Darabond and this whole hipster movement will just be gone forever. Now, can you both just trust me on this?
Trisha: Uh, fine. But I'm gonna be honest, this is taking a lot longer than I thought it was going to. People are starting to talk.
Mackenzie: What people?
Trisa: Oh you know, (looks into camera) some people. But yeah, I can wait two weeks.
Mackenzie: Okay, Brittnay?
Brittnay: Fine. But I want my bat back.
Mackenzie: Now, I think the best thing for all of us is to just stay the fuck away from Jenna Darabond.
Jenna Darabond: Oh hey girls!
Mackenzie: Brittnay give me the bat back.
Brittnay: Fuck off.
Jenna Darabond: Oh, what happened here?
Trisha: Oh well Brittnay was destroying your locker—
Mackenzie: Trisha! Jenna, we have no idea what happened here. We had nothing to do with this.
Jenna Darabond: Okay.
Mackenzie: Wait, Jenna, whose locker is this?
Jenna Darabond: How the fuck should I know? (Brittnay walks away, whistling) Oh hey, while you're here, why don't you take a flyer for this great concert I'm putting together!
Mackenzie: Hip-Chella-Stock-Alooza?
Jenna Darabond: Oh yeah, well, our board of directors couldn't exactly decide on a single name—
(flashback)
Judith: Woodstock!
Rachel: Coachella!
Judith: Woodstock!
Rachel: Coachella!
Justin: Um, hey guys, is my Lollapalooza idea still on the table, because I think it's a real winner?
Judith: Oh Jesus.
(present)
Jenna Darabond: We decided to compromise. You know, coexist and all.
Trisha: Hey, this is the same night as the State Championship!
Mackenzie: What!
Jenna Darabond: Oh yeah, it's also in the parking lot of the same stadium! So, I guess anyone who wants to go to your game isn't gonna have anywhere to park. Hm! Oh well, they play football games in empty stadiums all the time, right?
Mackenzie: Jenna, do you really think that more people are gonna choose some overpriced hipster music fest over the biggest football game in the history of the state of Kansas?
Jenna Darabond: You know, I was kind of worried about that too, but turns out, we sold out in the first day. So I don't even know why I gave you those flyers. Oh well, I guess they'll be collector's items one day! We're gonna have a lot of really great bands there, like Mumford and Cousins, Arrogant Mouse, The Purple Hippo Club, Angry Gingersnaps, Zombie Weekend, Irish Potato Famine, F Your Show, Literally Dragons, The Mario Brothers, Video Game Inferno, and the fifteenth reunion of O-town. Alright, well, I guess I'll see you guys later. Don't get into any trouble!
Mackenzie: God, I cannot fucking believe her.
Trisha: I know, Video Game Inferno, right? I love those guys!
Deandra: Alright, how's it going in here!
Trisha 2: Pretty good. Saison's having a baby, but other than that, you know. What'd you have to go get?
Deandra: My deliverin' arm!
Trisha 2: Ooh!
Belinda: Alright, here ya go.
Deandra: What the fuck are these?
Belinda: We didn't have any hot water, so I had to dip them in the clam chowder.
Deandra: Wait a minute, you were serving Clam Chowder today?
Belinda: Yes, but unfortunately, it tastes like dirty rags.
Trisha 2: Oh, because you dipped the rags in the clam chowder?
Belinda: No...
Trisha 2: Hmm.
Deandra: Alright, Saison, I hope your baby isn't allergic to shellfish and/or dairy.
Saison: How you say, ooohhhh!
Deandra: Here we go, Saison, the baby's starting to crown. Belinda, I'm gonna need you to bring those clam rags over here and put them under Saison and wait for the baby.
Belinda: Wow guys, you know, a couple years ago, I wasn't even allowed within five hundred feet of this place and now I'm helping deliver a foreign idiot's baby with the help of a cyborg, a dumbass, and two rags soaked in clam chowder on a lunch table. I'll be honest, I've seen a lot of things in my life, but this is pretty fucked up.
Deandra: That it is. Okay, Trisha, I need you to help Saison with the breathing techniques we learned.
Trisha 2: Oh right. Okay Saison, you ready. Hee hee hee hoo! Hee hee hee hoo!
Saison: Hee hee hee hoo! Hee hee hee hoo!
Trisah 2: Ooh, that's kind of a hot beat. My name is Trisha and you're having a baby-ia, if you look back here you'll see your (sees Saison's vagina) AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! OH NO, NO! Oh God! No! There is no God! (cries)
Trisha: Um, Mackenzie, if they're having a concert in the parking lot, how is anybody going to get to the football game?
Mackenzie: Trisha, I have no idea. Look, right now, we just need to focus on the plan. The guys are gonna win State, we're gonna take back our school, and everything will go back to normal. Now as long as nothing else crazy happens today, we're gonna be just—
Deandra: Ah suvaynya! Ba da be de bop bop. (Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba!)
Trisha 2: Trisha! The things I've seen! It's nothing like Look Who's Talking! It's just like Look Who's Talking 2! Ughh!
Trisha: Oh, this is graphic.
Belinda: Wow, we made quite a mess. Well, I'll see you later, Desmond.
Desmond: Goddammit! I hate Wednesdays.

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