Eerie, Indiana: The Other Dimension (1998) s01e14 Episode Script
I'm Okay, You're Really Weird
1
I do solemnly swear that everything
I am about to tell you is true.
A spill of weirdness
from another dimension
turned my hometown into the center
of weirdness for the entire universe.
Don't believe me?
Just watch.
Generally speaking, my mom's okay.
I mean she follows a
mom rule book and makes
me eat my broccoli and
pick up my socks and stuff.
But she also does cool
things with computers
and she knocks before
she comes into my room.
So once in a while
when she gets carried
away with some new
trend, I try to humor her.
And let's be a mature, freer in
her goofball, which is the big deal.
I've been immature for years.
I didn't know Dr. Lloyd wrote men are
from Denmark, women are from France.
Until I read it, I had no
idea your father watching
sports was giving our
relationship room to grow.
Or that your mother bought all those
shoes to keep the romance in our marriage.
The detector offers a foolproof way
to locate, scratched out, must be alien.
Please.
Listen.
If you'll find a seat, we'll
get our goofballs rolling here.
What a golden opportunity.
Ladies, gentlemen
and fellow goofballs, it is
my childish pleasure
this time to introduce
the man who's turning North America into
one big big kindergartner, Dr. Ziggy Lloyd.
Fun.
Fun.
Fun.
Fun.
Fun.
Fun.
That's what life should be.
Forget mortgages.
Boring jobs.
House.
Work.
You and you owe it
to yourselves to enjoy
life, just like little kids and
animals do, so let's hear it now.
Enjoy.
Enjoy.
Let's face it, ladies and gentlemen,
the grown-up is so boring.
Boring.
Boring.
Ah, but now there's no.
Yes, there is.
Yes, there is.
Thanks to my revolutionary
new psycho smell
therapy, your inner
goofball can break free.
As a childish impulses.
According to Ziggy
Lloyd, grown-ups were
worry a lot less if they
were more like kids.
But at that moment, this
kid was worried plenty.
I admit I may have
disrupted things a little,
but it seemed to me the real issue
was that Ziggy Lloyd was an alien.
What were you thinking, Mitchell?
Mom, Dad, the alien detector
so the Dr. Lloyd is one of them.
Alien detector.
Actually, it's a, uh, metal detector.
Creative marketing.
Ah, that would explain it.
I have a metal plate in my head.
When I was small, I
fell from a great height.
Plate magnifies certain
high-frequency sounds.
Also picks up a country
western station in Tulsa.
Which one?
I am so sorry, Dr. Lloyd.
Mitchell is such an imaginative boy.
That he's always seeing aliens and robots.
They're all real.
Poor child.
But perhaps I can help.
Why don't you come to my
office tomorrow three o'clock?
Bring the family.
You know what they say?
It takes more than one nut.
To make a food cake?
Hahaha.
Hey.
Okay.
Maybe Ziggy Lloyd wasn't an alien.
But he was still pretty weird.
He wrote books telling
people to act like kids.
And then he said I was crazy for being one.
Mind you, an eerie.
Being called crazy can be a compliment.
Sheriff?
Huh.
Whoa!
Ugh.
Fagidock.
You got me feeling more
shook up all the time.
No.
Oh.
Next.
We can wait.
He's a bit nervous.
Oh.
Fight this way.
We've never really been
in a therapist's office before.
Good.
Good.
I want your minds to be blank slates.
Empty your heads completely.
That was easy.
Good.
Good.
Now, the sense of smell
is the direct pipeline, if
you will, to the deepest,
silliest part of the brain.
Breathing deeply.
Oof.
Oof.
Sorry.
It's my cold.
This is free or in a move ball.
Get a nice, comfy aroma.
I know what it is.
Cotton candy.
Yes, and post and
honey, and chocolate milk,
and animal crackers, and the coup de gras.
Warm, blanky.
Fresh from the dryer.
Oh.
Certainly.
I feel so Emmett, sugar.
Good.
All right.
Make your inhibitions go.
Oof.
And then all those
goofy feelings can erupt.
Bang!
To the surface.
My dad will not go.
Oof.
Oof.
I poof as well as the next man.
Better for that matter.
That's the spirit.
Good for you.
Good for you.
Let your inner goofball go free.
You are about to become very happy.
Can we fix Mitchell now?
Ah, yes.
Mitchell.
Why don't you tell us what
your parents have done to you?
They haven't done anything.
Oh, come on, Mitch.
We must have done something to mess you up.
What was that puppy I wanted
for Christmas when I was six?
Poor kid.
That's right.
That's right. Feel his pain.
Feel his pain.
What pain?
I'm allergic to puppies.
If I had one, I wouldn't.
Mitchell, don't interrupt.
Grow without feeling excellent.
I hope I've got the right number.
I'm trying to reach Dr. Ziggy Noy.
Ziggy, if this is you, he's your mother.
Never really do all of it.
Please!
I really think it's tough.
I did so.
Did.
Did so.
Did not.
You've got to stop what you're doing.
I know you're not.
Did not.
Did not.
For the next hour, Ziggy Lloyd's therapy
turned my nice normal family into nut bars.
Oh, yeah?
Ignite to stop!
So after it was all over, I sought out
a place of peace, calm, and Serenity.
Don't tell me you're
seeing Ziggy Lloyd too.
Don't have to.
Me and my inner goofball
are like that, my friend.
Oh, Mr. Crawford!
You took out Mr. Dudley.
I would like a triple fudge banana split,
sprinkled with chocolate
chips and chopped nuts,
and smeared all over with cookie batter.
What about your diet?
My inner child needs chocolate.
Lucky kid.
I suppose you know you're wearing pajamas.
Dr. Lloyd says I can do whatever I want.
See that banana split?
That's breakfast.
And it's 4.30 in the afternoon.
You have some money in those jammies.
Hmm, chocolate.
Hey boys!
Where are they in the old man now?
Oh, gee dad, I don't know what to say.
I'm going to get one too.
Do you think they come in pink, Eddie?
I don't know.
Our parents are like so far past
cool, they're like quintuple cool.
You know when your
mom and I were little kids,
we both wanted to be
motorcycle daredelles, you know?
Jump the Grand Canyon, that sort of thing.
You're right.
Put up one in front of the fireplace.
Yeah.
For some reason, we just
decided it was too impractical,
but Ziggy says it's never
too late to do it to really want.
You know, I don't mean to be
a wet blanket on the situation,
but are motorcycles considerably expensive?
Um, Mitchell?
Oh no!
Oh!
The fishwasher!
We gotta pull the plug!
Where's the plug?
I don't know!
Mom, Dad!
You have to turn on the water!
Look at this!
It's a red wild party!
Daddy!
Look, Mitchell!
Now!
Dad!
We have to turn on the water!
Do you relax, Mitch?
The leak has haunted the end of the world.
Get up!
Get up to the table!
The table's right there!
You're going up to the center side!
We need music!
You're sick!
Action!
Ziggy Lloyd had turned my perfectly
good family into irresponsible idiots,
and it was beginning to look
like I'd never get him back.
Hey, what happened to the chairs?
The couch?
The coffee table!
We threw all that foreign
stuff in the backyard.
Whoa!
What about breakfast?
Dailed pizza!
My favorite!
You want to go out with your mom
and me and kick some thunder?
Maybe even jump a bus?
You know that sounds
pretty tempting, but I think I'm
going to go see what
Stanley's having for breakfast.
Oh!
Hurry back!
Your father needs help
building a wall of fire!
After Stanley made
me breakfast, we started
looking up everything we
could find on Ziggy Lloyd.
We even tuned in the Tulsa
radio station the metal plate
and his head picked up to
see if I could tell us anything.
Yeah!
Here it is!
What?
Dr. Lloyd is presently researching
his next work, Sand Local, a
town set free, a pioneering study
of his new psychosmith therapy.
I wonder why he didn't publish this?
Wait!
Stop!
Check out that white bitch!
Hey, listen to this!
The transformation of Sand
Local was a mystery to this day.
For some unknown reason,
the inhabitants stopped
working and turned their
town into a giant circus.
The original townspeople could
still be seen walking tightrope,
swallowing swords and
piling into stupid little cars.
You think Gary's turning into a circus?
More like a carnival side show.
Motorcycle daredevils
is the main attraction.
Aw, weren't that pretty?
Just like all the music
we play here at KBY Tulsa.
Got some messages for you folks
traveling our highways and byways?
The first ones to Dr. Ziggy
Lloyd, who's picking
us up on a metal plate
of carries in his head.
How's that for listener loyalty?
Ziggy, your mama needs to
talk to you real urgent luck.
Apparently you're up
to your old tricks again,
Buckaroo, and she
needs to set you straight.
Sleep in, sleep, close them on bright eyes.
Listen to your mama, dear.
I'd say those love-a-bye.
What I try to say, Doc, is
the more I use your spray.
The more I just want to move
back to Tupelo and drive a truck.
Interesting.
I mean, life was simple.
Me and mama walking that
green-green grass at home.
No suspicious mind, a lonely
night at the heartbreak hotel.
Dr. Lloyd?
I'm with the patient!
Well, you don't want to miss this, sir?
What is it?
Mr.
Taylor, he's jumping cars on his motorbike?
That's nice.
Well, you do drive a
midnight-gluem of Sadie's, don't you?
What's up, Doc?
Sessions over.
I have to go.
See?
Pick up, sweetie.
I know this is your number.
I'm sure of it.
It's your mother, Mabel.
Cheeks.
What you're doing is wrong.
You can't just go
around telling people that
spray up yours is freeing their
inner goofballs and all that is is water.
It's tough for a mother to say this,
but you're a snake-all salesman.
Sighy, it's your passion for
immaturity that's really changing them.
You have a great gift as a motivational
speaker, but you're using them as well.
Getting people to act like kids and turning
their towns into circuses and side-chills,
because that's what you love,
because the kid is just not right.
Call me, Sugar, 555-0176.
Hello?
Hello, Mrs. Lloyd.
My name is Mitchell Taylor.
I'm calling you about your son.
It's urgent.
Tell me where he is.
While I went to meet the
late train, Stanley went
down to the world of stuff
to keep Ziggy occupied.
Is there a seat there?
Oh.
Oh.
You were Mitchell.
I don't know, but they're Stanley.
Come on.
Again?
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
Not that I want to discourage
you from expressing
those rowdy, primitive
feelings on the contrary.
I want you to go even further!
Take some pictures from
my book while you're at it.
What about San Loco?
Tell us how you changed it into a circus.
I'm proud of that circus.
You turned all the townspeople
into lion tamers and clowns.
Ah!
Happy lion tamers.
They love the circus.
They gave up their entire life.
Don't let him spoil your fun.
Come on.
Come on.
Laugh.
Jump up and down.
Oh!
Oh!
Ziggy!
You naughty boy!
I know you were up to know good.
What am I going to do with you?
Oh, you can say it, Ziggy.
Mother!
It's not that difficult a word.
Whatever you've taken from these
people I want you to give it back.
They don't need to be irresponsible.
They're perfectly fine the way they are.
Look at you.
You're not even wearing a sweater.
Do you want to catch pneumonia?
Ziggy, you have to go up Sweet Pea.
You have to learn to
be a responsible adult.
Why do I?
They're there, Ziggy.
Maybe I baby do too
much after the accident.
You're a good boy, deep down.
You really think that people
who play all the time are better off?
I really do.
Yeah, please.
I'm really sorry about all this.
It's all my fault, really.
His father and I were tight broke walkers.
As soon as he started walking,
he'd head for that tight rope.
Then one day
Splat!
Oh, that wasn't your fault.
You tried to stop me.
But don't you see, Ziggy?
The circus is no good
place to raise a child.
We should have had regular
jobs like regular people.
Then you wouldn't have needed that
plate in your head.
Forgive me, sweetheart.
Your father and I
were too immature.
As for you people, don't
you feel a teeny bit silly?
You've thrown away your responsibility
just because my Ziggy writes a book.
Don't you realize you have jobs
and families for goodness' sakes?
Take my advice.
You've freed your inner goofballs.
Now it's time
to lock them up again.
I have to call the dishwasher a paraman.
And from now on, do
what you can to avoid
taking the advice of
some snake oil salesman
who's written a book
with a cute title or claims
they can change your
life with some smelly water.
Way to go, Mrs. Loy!
I can't help feeling you rat and Ziggy out.
I'm really sorry I wasn't there
to catch you when you
fell on your hand.
It's okay, my mother.
It's been a rough journey,
but I think I'm over it.
Who's that?
Oh, my mother!
You didn't need to be a
brain surgeon or even a tree
surgeon to see that Ziggy
had problems with his mom.
And I felt kind of funny telling on him.
But in the end, she helped
keep you from turning
truly weird, if such
a thing is possible.
Stop thinking into what your mother
tells you by Ziggy Lloyd Matilda Lloyd.
Also known as
You still think I shouldn't
have told on Ziggy?
Well, the kids don't tell
mom code is a sacred trust.
Did you want to join the circus that bad?
Wow!
I do solemnly swear that everything
I am about to tell you is true.
A spill of weirdness
from another dimension
turned my hometown into the center
of weirdness for the entire universe.
Don't believe me?
Just watch.
Generally speaking, my mom's okay.
I mean she follows a
mom rule book and makes
me eat my broccoli and
pick up my socks and stuff.
But she also does cool
things with computers
and she knocks before
she comes into my room.
So once in a while
when she gets carried
away with some new
trend, I try to humor her.
And let's be a mature, freer in
her goofball, which is the big deal.
I've been immature for years.
I didn't know Dr. Lloyd wrote men are
from Denmark, women are from France.
Until I read it, I had no
idea your father watching
sports was giving our
relationship room to grow.
Or that your mother bought all those
shoes to keep the romance in our marriage.
The detector offers a foolproof way
to locate, scratched out, must be alien.
Please.
Listen.
If you'll find a seat, we'll
get our goofballs rolling here.
What a golden opportunity.
Ladies, gentlemen
and fellow goofballs, it is
my childish pleasure
this time to introduce
the man who's turning North America into
one big big kindergartner, Dr. Ziggy Lloyd.
Fun.
Fun.
Fun.
Fun.
Fun.
Fun.
That's what life should be.
Forget mortgages.
Boring jobs.
House.
Work.
You and you owe it
to yourselves to enjoy
life, just like little kids and
animals do, so let's hear it now.
Enjoy.
Enjoy.
Let's face it, ladies and gentlemen,
the grown-up is so boring.
Boring.
Boring.
Ah, but now there's no.
Yes, there is.
Yes, there is.
Thanks to my revolutionary
new psycho smell
therapy, your inner
goofball can break free.
As a childish impulses.
According to Ziggy
Lloyd, grown-ups were
worry a lot less if they
were more like kids.
But at that moment, this
kid was worried plenty.
I admit I may have
disrupted things a little,
but it seemed to me the real issue
was that Ziggy Lloyd was an alien.
What were you thinking, Mitchell?
Mom, Dad, the alien detector
so the Dr. Lloyd is one of them.
Alien detector.
Actually, it's a, uh, metal detector.
Creative marketing.
Ah, that would explain it.
I have a metal plate in my head.
When I was small, I
fell from a great height.
Plate magnifies certain
high-frequency sounds.
Also picks up a country
western station in Tulsa.
Which one?
I am so sorry, Dr. Lloyd.
Mitchell is such an imaginative boy.
That he's always seeing aliens and robots.
They're all real.
Poor child.
But perhaps I can help.
Why don't you come to my
office tomorrow three o'clock?
Bring the family.
You know what they say?
It takes more than one nut.
To make a food cake?
Hahaha.
Hey.
Okay.
Maybe Ziggy Lloyd wasn't an alien.
But he was still pretty weird.
He wrote books telling
people to act like kids.
And then he said I was crazy for being one.
Mind you, an eerie.
Being called crazy can be a compliment.
Sheriff?
Huh.
Whoa!
Ugh.
Fagidock.
You got me feeling more
shook up all the time.
No.
Oh.
Next.
We can wait.
He's a bit nervous.
Oh.
Fight this way.
We've never really been
in a therapist's office before.
Good.
Good.
I want your minds to be blank slates.
Empty your heads completely.
That was easy.
Good.
Good.
Now, the sense of smell
is the direct pipeline, if
you will, to the deepest,
silliest part of the brain.
Breathing deeply.
Oof.
Oof.
Sorry.
It's my cold.
This is free or in a move ball.
Get a nice, comfy aroma.
I know what it is.
Cotton candy.
Yes, and post and
honey, and chocolate milk,
and animal crackers, and the coup de gras.
Warm, blanky.
Fresh from the dryer.
Oh.
Certainly.
I feel so Emmett, sugar.
Good.
All right.
Make your inhibitions go.
Oof.
And then all those
goofy feelings can erupt.
Bang!
To the surface.
My dad will not go.
Oof.
Oof.
I poof as well as the next man.
Better for that matter.
That's the spirit.
Good for you.
Good for you.
Let your inner goofball go free.
You are about to become very happy.
Can we fix Mitchell now?
Ah, yes.
Mitchell.
Why don't you tell us what
your parents have done to you?
They haven't done anything.
Oh, come on, Mitch.
We must have done something to mess you up.
What was that puppy I wanted
for Christmas when I was six?
Poor kid.
That's right.
That's right. Feel his pain.
Feel his pain.
What pain?
I'm allergic to puppies.
If I had one, I wouldn't.
Mitchell, don't interrupt.
Grow without feeling excellent.
I hope I've got the right number.
I'm trying to reach Dr. Ziggy Noy.
Ziggy, if this is you, he's your mother.
Never really do all of it.
Please!
I really think it's tough.
I did so.
Did.
Did so.
Did not.
You've got to stop what you're doing.
I know you're not.
Did not.
Did not.
For the next hour, Ziggy Lloyd's therapy
turned my nice normal family into nut bars.
Oh, yeah?
Ignite to stop!
So after it was all over, I sought out
a place of peace, calm, and Serenity.
Don't tell me you're
seeing Ziggy Lloyd too.
Don't have to.
Me and my inner goofball
are like that, my friend.
Oh, Mr. Crawford!
You took out Mr. Dudley.
I would like a triple fudge banana split,
sprinkled with chocolate
chips and chopped nuts,
and smeared all over with cookie batter.
What about your diet?
My inner child needs chocolate.
Lucky kid.
I suppose you know you're wearing pajamas.
Dr. Lloyd says I can do whatever I want.
See that banana split?
That's breakfast.
And it's 4.30 in the afternoon.
You have some money in those jammies.
Hmm, chocolate.
Hey boys!
Where are they in the old man now?
Oh, gee dad, I don't know what to say.
I'm going to get one too.
Do you think they come in pink, Eddie?
I don't know.
Our parents are like so far past
cool, they're like quintuple cool.
You know when your
mom and I were little kids,
we both wanted to be
motorcycle daredelles, you know?
Jump the Grand Canyon, that sort of thing.
You're right.
Put up one in front of the fireplace.
Yeah.
For some reason, we just
decided it was too impractical,
but Ziggy says it's never
too late to do it to really want.
You know, I don't mean to be
a wet blanket on the situation,
but are motorcycles considerably expensive?
Um, Mitchell?
Oh no!
Oh!
The fishwasher!
We gotta pull the plug!
Where's the plug?
I don't know!
Mom, Dad!
You have to turn on the water!
Look at this!
It's a red wild party!
Daddy!
Look, Mitchell!
Now!
Dad!
We have to turn on the water!
Do you relax, Mitch?
The leak has haunted the end of the world.
Get up!
Get up to the table!
The table's right there!
You're going up to the center side!
We need music!
You're sick!
Action!
Ziggy Lloyd had turned my perfectly
good family into irresponsible idiots,
and it was beginning to look
like I'd never get him back.
Hey, what happened to the chairs?
The couch?
The coffee table!
We threw all that foreign
stuff in the backyard.
Whoa!
What about breakfast?
Dailed pizza!
My favorite!
You want to go out with your mom
and me and kick some thunder?
Maybe even jump a bus?
You know that sounds
pretty tempting, but I think I'm
going to go see what
Stanley's having for breakfast.
Oh!
Hurry back!
Your father needs help
building a wall of fire!
After Stanley made
me breakfast, we started
looking up everything we
could find on Ziggy Lloyd.
We even tuned in the Tulsa
radio station the metal plate
and his head picked up to
see if I could tell us anything.
Yeah!
Here it is!
What?
Dr. Lloyd is presently researching
his next work, Sand Local, a
town set free, a pioneering study
of his new psychosmith therapy.
I wonder why he didn't publish this?
Wait!
Stop!
Check out that white bitch!
Hey, listen to this!
The transformation of Sand
Local was a mystery to this day.
For some unknown reason,
the inhabitants stopped
working and turned their
town into a giant circus.
The original townspeople could
still be seen walking tightrope,
swallowing swords and
piling into stupid little cars.
You think Gary's turning into a circus?
More like a carnival side show.
Motorcycle daredevils
is the main attraction.
Aw, weren't that pretty?
Just like all the music
we play here at KBY Tulsa.
Got some messages for you folks
traveling our highways and byways?
The first ones to Dr. Ziggy
Lloyd, who's picking
us up on a metal plate
of carries in his head.
How's that for listener loyalty?
Ziggy, your mama needs to
talk to you real urgent luck.
Apparently you're up
to your old tricks again,
Buckaroo, and she
needs to set you straight.
Sleep in, sleep, close them on bright eyes.
Listen to your mama, dear.
I'd say those love-a-bye.
What I try to say, Doc, is
the more I use your spray.
The more I just want to move
back to Tupelo and drive a truck.
Interesting.
I mean, life was simple.
Me and mama walking that
green-green grass at home.
No suspicious mind, a lonely
night at the heartbreak hotel.
Dr. Lloyd?
I'm with the patient!
Well, you don't want to miss this, sir?
What is it?
Mr.
Taylor, he's jumping cars on his motorbike?
That's nice.
Well, you do drive a
midnight-gluem of Sadie's, don't you?
What's up, Doc?
Sessions over.
I have to go.
See?
Pick up, sweetie.
I know this is your number.
I'm sure of it.
It's your mother, Mabel.
Cheeks.
What you're doing is wrong.
You can't just go
around telling people that
spray up yours is freeing their
inner goofballs and all that is is water.
It's tough for a mother to say this,
but you're a snake-all salesman.
Sighy, it's your passion for
immaturity that's really changing them.
You have a great gift as a motivational
speaker, but you're using them as well.
Getting people to act like kids and turning
their towns into circuses and side-chills,
because that's what you love,
because the kid is just not right.
Call me, Sugar, 555-0176.
Hello?
Hello, Mrs. Lloyd.
My name is Mitchell Taylor.
I'm calling you about your son.
It's urgent.
Tell me where he is.
While I went to meet the
late train, Stanley went
down to the world of stuff
to keep Ziggy occupied.
Is there a seat there?
Oh.
Oh.
You were Mitchell.
I don't know, but they're Stanley.
Come on.
Again?
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
Not that I want to discourage
you from expressing
those rowdy, primitive
feelings on the contrary.
I want you to go even further!
Take some pictures from
my book while you're at it.
What about San Loco?
Tell us how you changed it into a circus.
I'm proud of that circus.
You turned all the townspeople
into lion tamers and clowns.
Ah!
Happy lion tamers.
They love the circus.
They gave up their entire life.
Don't let him spoil your fun.
Come on.
Come on.
Laugh.
Jump up and down.
Oh!
Oh!
Ziggy!
You naughty boy!
I know you were up to know good.
What am I going to do with you?
Oh, you can say it, Ziggy.
Mother!
It's not that difficult a word.
Whatever you've taken from these
people I want you to give it back.
They don't need to be irresponsible.
They're perfectly fine the way they are.
Look at you.
You're not even wearing a sweater.
Do you want to catch pneumonia?
Ziggy, you have to go up Sweet Pea.
You have to learn to
be a responsible adult.
Why do I?
They're there, Ziggy.
Maybe I baby do too
much after the accident.
You're a good boy, deep down.
You really think that people
who play all the time are better off?
I really do.
Yeah, please.
I'm really sorry about all this.
It's all my fault, really.
His father and I were tight broke walkers.
As soon as he started walking,
he'd head for that tight rope.
Then one day
Splat!
Oh, that wasn't your fault.
You tried to stop me.
But don't you see, Ziggy?
The circus is no good
place to raise a child.
We should have had regular
jobs like regular people.
Then you wouldn't have needed that
plate in your head.
Forgive me, sweetheart.
Your father and I
were too immature.
As for you people, don't
you feel a teeny bit silly?
You've thrown away your responsibility
just because my Ziggy writes a book.
Don't you realize you have jobs
and families for goodness' sakes?
Take my advice.
You've freed your inner goofballs.
Now it's time
to lock them up again.
I have to call the dishwasher a paraman.
And from now on, do
what you can to avoid
taking the advice of
some snake oil salesman
who's written a book
with a cute title or claims
they can change your
life with some smelly water.
Way to go, Mrs. Loy!
I can't help feeling you rat and Ziggy out.
I'm really sorry I wasn't there
to catch you when you
fell on your hand.
It's okay, my mother.
It's been a rough journey,
but I think I'm over it.
Who's that?
Oh, my mother!
You didn't need to be a
brain surgeon or even a tree
surgeon to see that Ziggy
had problems with his mom.
And I felt kind of funny telling on him.
But in the end, she helped
keep you from turning
truly weird, if such
a thing is possible.
Stop thinking into what your mother
tells you by Ziggy Lloyd Matilda Lloyd.
Also known as
You still think I shouldn't
have told on Ziggy?
Well, the kids don't tell
mom code is a sacred trust.
Did you want to join the circus that bad?
Wow!