I said to wet them so they'd stick.
Who wants to eat wet hamburger buns, Bob?
Yep. Yours are all rolling off.
Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Perfect Wet Buns.
Uh-oh. Pesto's looking.
- Crap. Go, go, go. - Oh, here's my bus.
Hey, Mr. Frond? I was just wondering, um,
did I write my song or did you?
Does anyone really write a song?
I mean, sure, I wrote the song,
but you wrote your name on it, so we both wrote something.
Damn it. I'm a fraud.
But a good fraud.
Whatever gets picked will be the school song
for the next hundred years, probably.
Should it really be about poop?
Or whatever the hell Rudy's doing?
If we don't do the song, I'll be forgotten.
That's right. Like dust in the wind.
Ooh. I'm gonna write that down.
Okay, fine. But to win we've got to get the most applause, right?
Oh, we will. The stuff about clearing cafeteria tables rocks.
No, Louise is right. Kids are just gonna clap
for the dumbest song with their dumb hands.
So we add some applause somehow?
Like a recording of applause?
Yes. We hook it into the sound system.
Like how I added a laugh track
to the faculty comedy jam last year.
There's a boys basketball game tonight.
I could record some applause there.
Tina, I think we found an applausable solution.
Are we bad?
We're not great, but we mean really well.
So are we good?
Yeah, the clapping's on this tape.
Low-scoring game. Took a while.
Zero-zero in the second half? Stop throwing up bricks!
Tina, stop yelling at us.
I will when you give us something to clap about!
Sink a bucket!
There was a three-minute standing ovation
when they finally scored. Coach Blevins cried.
You sing, I press play, our song wins,
we never speak of this again. Have fun.
So, what were you talking to Mr. Frond about?
Oh, just the basketball game.
- Giving him the old hoop scoop. - No further questions.
In these seats next to me are contestants.
In these contestants are songs.
They sing, you decide.
This is the Wagstaff School Song Contest.
Oh. I thought someone would cheer at that.
Let's get started.
Called the Wagstaff School.
She's hitting it.
You're a school
I want to be inside of you.
Kids lining up inside just to get milk.
Well, I'm not the highest.
But it's an honor just to compete
against your friends in a fair contest.
- Oh, God. - What was that about?
Oh just, uh, pre-performance jitters.
- Tina, relax. - Yeah, you need to chill out.
Jeremy Dylan, Megan McGrath
That kid I copy from in math...
Come on out, Jimmy.
Bob, what's going on? What are you doing?
We fight fire with fire, Lin.
Did you rip our bathroom mirror off its hinges?
It's how we take out the Death Star.
I offered to neatly unscrew it, but Bob couldn't wait.
Sun's perfect. When Jimmy comes out, I'm gonna torch him.
Bobby, you're going to the dark side a little bit.
I'm gonna bring him to his knees!
There's Jimmy. Now!
My eyes!
Jeez, Bob, why did you get Trev?
- His innocent eyes. - You said it was Pesto!
I can't see... The sun's in my eyes.
It's in my eyes too, Bob! I hate you, sun.
You came between me and my friend. And you killed Trev.
You maniac, Bob.
This Linguini could have been hurt.
I-I'm so sorry, Trev.
It's okay. My vision's coming back.
Jimmy, truce. Come on.
We got to do something about the awning.
- Nope. Never. - But Jimmy, you don't even like it.
- Would you shut up, Trev? - Wait, what?
- Tell them. - All right. It's...
It's kind of sweltering under it. And echoey.