Tell me about it.
Guys, I'm gonna go see a girl about a song
- that I'm gonna write.
- And that girl is me.
All I have to do is write an amazing song
about Wagstaff, and I'll have made my mark.
Like Peter and his checker.
Or Mark. He made that mark.
Remember, students may use the music room
during their free periods to work on their song.
So use it or lose it, people.
Uh, Mr. Frond, so are kids really going to pick
the winning song?
Yes. It's in children's hands, literally.
Their clapping decides.
What? What?
You fool.
Nothing. I just thought of something funny.
Have you ever heard of knock-knock jokes?
It's, like, who's there, right?
And it's always just something funny.
- It is. You're right. - Okay, bye.
Can you believe it?
About knock-knock jokes? I mean, they're not all funny.
The one about the interrupting cow makes me uncomfortable.
No, I'm talking about letting kids write the songs
and pick the winner.
We're obviously gonna choose the dumbest, most offensive,
most wrong song for kids.
We're also terrible drivers.
So I'm thinking we write something about pee. Or poop.
Or both. The original power couple.
Gene, do you think you could come up with
a really idiotic melody to go with dumb words?
Have you not heard my song "Diaper Day Penis Parade"?
Wait, you guys are entering, too?
You're competing against me?
Hey, let a thousand dumb songs bloom.
Quick, give me a pencil.
I need to write this down before I forget.
Uh, can I get some more water, Lin?
I guess I'm still sweating from those stairs I climbed
- two hours ago. - It is getting hot in here.
Look at my pits.
There should be a lifeguard on duty in there.
Yeah, what's... Oh, my God.
It's Pesto's stupid awning. It's reflecting the sun at us.
You know what's happening, the visually pleasing curves
are making a concave mirror.
They're not visually pleasing curves!
Yeah, they're visually pleasing and deadly.
- Like the Death Star. - The Death Star!
Bob, you're like an Ewok.
Wait, why am I an Ewok?
- No reason. Hairy. Excitable. - I'm going over there.
You're a feisty little Ewok.
Jimmy, your stupid awning is blasting my restaurant with sun.
Slow down. All I hear is "Mi-mi-mi-mi-mi. I'm Bob."
I'm serious, it's reflecting the sun right at us.
Ha, hilarious. Maybe it will cook your burgers better.
Ha. Solar power. It's the future.
Come on, don't-don't make me report this to the city.
What city, Cry-baby-delphia?
Not a real city. I don't think.
No, I'm gonna complain to Ugly-awning-achusetts.
- Which isn't a city, but... - It's gotta be a city, bro.
Fine, Stupid-awnings-sylvania.
Damn it, I can't think of any cities right now.
- Chicago. - Do not tell him Chicago.
This isn't over, Jimmy.
I think it is. Get sunscreen.
Okay, setting up my songwriting studio for maximum creativity.
Herbal tea, incense from that gas station,
and an eraser. Not like I'm gonna need that.
Here we go. "Wagstaff." That's a good start.
Now what? Wagstaff. Nope, already got that.
Huh. Remember, it's just a song.
It only has to be good enough to immortalize me.
Okay, too much pressure.
Dial it back and just give it a minute
for the words to flow.
- Crap, I got nothing. - Damn incense.
And the poo poo and the pee pee
And the pee pee and the poo poo
When the poo poo and the pee pee...
Hey, guys, how's the songwriting?
The title is "Poo Poo, Pee Pee,"
and all the lyrics are "poo poo, pee pee,"
so we're killing it.
Some of the guys in the band prefer "Pee Pee, Poo Poo."
Oh, my God, that's so much better.
Um, hey, do you guys have a rhyme for "Wagstaff"
sitting around that you're not using?