Dicktown (2020) s02e04 Episode Script
The Mystery of the Adventures of Pon-Pon
1
She called you pathetic and
said you had ruined her life,
and that was on the first date.
- Yeah.
- Not the fifth date.
- No.
- Ooh, you move fast.
Why is Madame Slingshot tormenting me? - Madame Slingshot? - Yeah, that's what I call her because of the thing she drives.
No, no, no, call her Motorcycle Car Lady.
- Well - That's more evocative.
I'm gonna stay with my thing.
Anyway, listen, Motorcycle Car Lady, which is her name, is jealous of all the success we're having.
That's gotta be the reason.
Nothing can stop Operation Grow Up.
Okay, Tucker, here's your gear, - and here is your rental fee.
- Payment in full? Detectives, what a delightful surprise.
We're killing it, Tucker.
I've got $250 burning up these cargo shorts.
- Give me a stock tip.
- Buy high, sell high.
I never play the market without an edible and a jammy rosé.
So Taggy got us an undercover gig at the Museum of NASCAR.
Can you get us NASCAR suits? Right, about that.
I can't rent stuff to you anymore.
- What? - What? Why not? I signed a noncompete clause with a rival investigator, Pon-Pon.
Pon-Pon? Who is Pon-Pon? Pon-Pon, his name is Pon-Pon The Belgian boy detective of indeterminate age Walks his dog Slushy from Antwerp to Bruges Locking up villains and all of their stooges Pon-Pon, il s'appelle Pon-Pon The new boy detective of Dicktown Wow, you have a lovely singing voice.
That's literally the first time in my life I have ever sung.
So you're saying we've got some waffle-headed Belgian coming into North Carolina to solve our homegrown mysteries? Mm-mm.
- Yes.
- Wow.
Do you know Judy Sparecrust? Of course, the eccentric soft-boiled peanut heiress who lives in a big mansion, loves to entertain.
Exactly.
She's hosting a murder-mystery cocktail party tonight to show off Pon-Pon's detective skills to her high-society friends.
High society grown-ups? Those are the clients we want.
Oh, you got to get us into that party.
Fine, I'll get your names on the list.
What are your names again? - Oh, you don't know our names? - Wow.
I've never been good at trivia.
All right, you know what? I'm going to forget your name.
- Say my name.
- Tucker.
Oh, damn it.
This is some party, huh, guys? It's a hell of a lot of soft-boiled peanuts.
Gentleman, these are Dicktown's most influential grown-ups.
If Pon-Pon impresses them tonight, he could put us out of business.
Nah, I'll talk you up to everyone.
Don't worry about it.
I'm a great salesman.
I was voted most charming in my frat.
Alan, you baggy old piece of shit! Yo, yo, bonsoir, bonsoir.
I know you.
You are John Hunchman, the famous boy detective, no? - Yes, but I'm not a boy.
- My name is Pon-Pon.
I am the number one mystery solver of Belgium.
You know, as a boy, I read your early cases and was inspired.
- Oh, wait, really? - Oui, absolument.
I read them, and I think - these cases are childish, no? - Wow.
Missing guinea pig, stolen hockey card? It's okay for virgins, but no, not for Pon-Pon.
I think "I can do better than him," et voilà , so I have.
You certainly talk a big game.
Mais non! Pon-Pon plays no games.
I observe the truth, I say the truth.
You stink a little bit.
Ah, this must be Slushy, I presume.
Au revoir.
There's one thing I despise, it's a confident European.
Welcome to Sparecrust Manor, my dears, or as we are calling it tonight, Slappy's Gin and Jazz Joint.
I'm Judy Sparecrust, aka Zelda Batsby, the enigmatic millionairess.
The year? The place? Gangland, Chicago.
Your task? To find the killer of sweet Sally, the chorus girl, played perfectly by my dear mother, Edith.
Now, each of you has your character sheet, all except our guest of honor, of course.
Merci, madame.
If I can solve the mystery of Who killed sweet Sally Perhaps you will consider hiring me - for your real world enquêtes? - Huh? Pardonnez-moi, this is French for "investigations.
" Sophisticated and charming.
That's our little Belgian in a nutshell.
Ah, in a peanut shell, no? - Oh, my God.
- I'm sorry, who are you? My gosh, Judy.
You don't know John Hunchman, North Carolina's greatest American detective? - I really don't.
- Oh, well, hey, here's an idea.
Since we have two great detectives here, let's make it a contest, see who can solve the mystery fastest.
Pon-Pon is not opposed.
But Pon-Pon, I don't have a character sheet for him.
If I may, Ms.
Sparecrust, I've created my own character, Theobald Fortiscue, - intrepid IRS fraud inves - Wait! Loafer couldn't come because his new restaurant fell on him.
Here, take his character, Fredo Lumpanelli, the impotent patsy despised by all.
- Oh, come on.
- And so let the mystery begin.
When you think you have the solution, just hit the gong.
Do you have an alibi for last Friday, Slappy? I was at the speakeasy.
I run the joint, don't I? Say, big fella, do you own a knife? I do own a knife, but it hasn't been sharpened in many years.
Say, pal, I heard you were mighty drunk last night.
Hey, fuck you, Greg.
Mind your business.
So you were not at the speakeasy last night, is that correct? Where is your Chicago accent, Fredo? Ugh, fine.
Uh, what's the rumpus, see? Was you or was you not at the speakeasy, see? What are you? Some kind of pirate? Can you just stop making that noise and answer the question? Sure, I was at the speakeasy.
I saw sweet Sally leave around 10:00, you sorry galoot.
Mm-hmm, that solves it.
The true mystery is, who is the real Judy Sparecrust, no? For she is hidden by two great shadows: wealth and beauty.
You are too much, Pon-Pon.
Say, doll, you got any hot stock tips? I got 250 clams, and I got to get rich and move out of my parents' basement by the end of the week, see? What in the hell are you talking about? This man is nuts, no? Or should I say peanuts? Pon-Pon, I can't get enough of you.
May I lick your feet? What's the matter, Fredo Lumpanelli? Can't take the hard truth from a tough dame? Yeah, I know your story.
You get pushed around, and you take it.
Hmm.
Excuse me, please.
Think you take it hard, and you like it.
Oh, it's only you.
Hi, Pon-Pon.
What is that Pon-Pon up to? He's not asking anyone any questions.
He's just goofing off and smoking and peeping through bathroom windows.
Okay, but shouldn't we get back to solving the main mystery? That's why we're here.
Don't worry, I solved that in the first 15 minutes.
Yeah, it'll take everyone else hours.
What? Impossible.
Okay, now that we are here, I shall reveal the identity of poor sweet Sally's murderer.
Not likely.
You see, Pon-Pon blew off the game to murder a bottle of Calvados - Ding.
- With his mouth - Ding.
- In the library.
Ding.
You, madame, are the murderer.
Fuck, that's correct.
- Dong.
- Me? Why would you say such a thing about Zelda Batsby? Because Judy Sparecrust is spoiled and bored.
She wants attention, no? Especially the attention of Pon-Pon, eh? Like all criminals, she wants to be caught.
So you leave your character sheet for Pon-Pon to see, là , by the cacahuetes.
That's French for "peanuts.
" Guilty as charged, Pon-Pon.
No, no, no, don't applaud.
That's not fair.
It's using information from outside the game.
Oh, la, la, la, the game.
Oh, Monsieur Hunchman, is it not the detective's job - to observe ev-er-y-thing? - Okay, fine.
But, but, I have solved a different mystery.
Pon-Pon, you are not Belgian.
This cigarette you were smoking, it's a Ducal, made in only one place in Europe: the micronation known as Luxembourg.
Uh, Luxembourg? It's gong time.
Ding, dong, ding, ding, dong, upon my gong.
Oui, oui, I will confess.
I am from Luxembourg, not Belgium.
Ah-ha-ha, so your entire identity is a lie.
Oh, influential grown-ups of Richardsville, how your idol has fallen.
But lying only makes him more interesting.
She's right.
Huzzah for Pon-Pon! - Huzzah, Huzzah! - Pon-Pon! - Huzzah, huzzah! - Sorry, boys.
Museum of NASCAR just canceled the undercover gig.
But we already bought those NASCAR suits.
Well, Greg over there is on the board, and he wants to give the job to Pon-Pon.
Okay, do we still have all those other gigs lined up? Oop.
Oh, boy.
Aw, gee.
Aw, yeesh, not anymore.
Sorry, fellas.
Looks like Pon-Pon fever is highly contagious.
Pon-Pon, Pon-Pon, Pon-Pon, Pon-Pon! Aw, jeez.
I wonder if actual murder mysteries are this depressing.
Kendra was right.
I'm doomed.
No, no, just wait until channel 57 airs their amazing profile about us.
We'll be back in the grown-up game before you know it.
Do you have any Mountain Dew to mix with this weird wine? - It's really not very sweet.
- Fresca fridge.
Ah.
I'll be right back, champ.
Oh, and look on the bright side.
Um, there's no creepy visits from Motorcycle Car Lady tonight.
Fresca fridge.
- Yeah.
- Not the fifth date.
- No.
- Ooh, you move fast.
Why is Madame Slingshot tormenting me? - Madame Slingshot? - Yeah, that's what I call her because of the thing she drives.
No, no, no, call her Motorcycle Car Lady.
- Well - That's more evocative.
I'm gonna stay with my thing.
Anyway, listen, Motorcycle Car Lady, which is her name, is jealous of all the success we're having.
That's gotta be the reason.
Nothing can stop Operation Grow Up.
Okay, Tucker, here's your gear, - and here is your rental fee.
- Payment in full? Detectives, what a delightful surprise.
We're killing it, Tucker.
I've got $250 burning up these cargo shorts.
- Give me a stock tip.
- Buy high, sell high.
I never play the market without an edible and a jammy rosé.
So Taggy got us an undercover gig at the Museum of NASCAR.
Can you get us NASCAR suits? Right, about that.
I can't rent stuff to you anymore.
- What? - What? Why not? I signed a noncompete clause with a rival investigator, Pon-Pon.
Pon-Pon? Who is Pon-Pon? Pon-Pon, his name is Pon-Pon The Belgian boy detective of indeterminate age Walks his dog Slushy from Antwerp to Bruges Locking up villains and all of their stooges Pon-Pon, il s'appelle Pon-Pon The new boy detective of Dicktown Wow, you have a lovely singing voice.
That's literally the first time in my life I have ever sung.
So you're saying we've got some waffle-headed Belgian coming into North Carolina to solve our homegrown mysteries? Mm-mm.
- Yes.
- Wow.
Do you know Judy Sparecrust? Of course, the eccentric soft-boiled peanut heiress who lives in a big mansion, loves to entertain.
Exactly.
She's hosting a murder-mystery cocktail party tonight to show off Pon-Pon's detective skills to her high-society friends.
High society grown-ups? Those are the clients we want.
Oh, you got to get us into that party.
Fine, I'll get your names on the list.
What are your names again? - Oh, you don't know our names? - Wow.
I've never been good at trivia.
All right, you know what? I'm going to forget your name.
- Say my name.
- Tucker.
Oh, damn it.
This is some party, huh, guys? It's a hell of a lot of soft-boiled peanuts.
Gentleman, these are Dicktown's most influential grown-ups.
If Pon-Pon impresses them tonight, he could put us out of business.
Nah, I'll talk you up to everyone.
Don't worry about it.
I'm a great salesman.
I was voted most charming in my frat.
Alan, you baggy old piece of shit! Yo, yo, bonsoir, bonsoir.
I know you.
You are John Hunchman, the famous boy detective, no? - Yes, but I'm not a boy.
- My name is Pon-Pon.
I am the number one mystery solver of Belgium.
You know, as a boy, I read your early cases and was inspired.
- Oh, wait, really? - Oui, absolument.
I read them, and I think - these cases are childish, no? - Wow.
Missing guinea pig, stolen hockey card? It's okay for virgins, but no, not for Pon-Pon.
I think "I can do better than him," et voilà , so I have.
You certainly talk a big game.
Mais non! Pon-Pon plays no games.
I observe the truth, I say the truth.
You stink a little bit.
Ah, this must be Slushy, I presume.
Au revoir.
There's one thing I despise, it's a confident European.
Welcome to Sparecrust Manor, my dears, or as we are calling it tonight, Slappy's Gin and Jazz Joint.
I'm Judy Sparecrust, aka Zelda Batsby, the enigmatic millionairess.
The year? The place? Gangland, Chicago.
Your task? To find the killer of sweet Sally, the chorus girl, played perfectly by my dear mother, Edith.
Now, each of you has your character sheet, all except our guest of honor, of course.
Merci, madame.
If I can solve the mystery of Who killed sweet Sally Perhaps you will consider hiring me - for your real world enquêtes? - Huh? Pardonnez-moi, this is French for "investigations.
" Sophisticated and charming.
That's our little Belgian in a nutshell.
Ah, in a peanut shell, no? - Oh, my God.
- I'm sorry, who are you? My gosh, Judy.
You don't know John Hunchman, North Carolina's greatest American detective? - I really don't.
- Oh, well, hey, here's an idea.
Since we have two great detectives here, let's make it a contest, see who can solve the mystery fastest.
Pon-Pon is not opposed.
But Pon-Pon, I don't have a character sheet for him.
If I may, Ms.
Sparecrust, I've created my own character, Theobald Fortiscue, - intrepid IRS fraud inves - Wait! Loafer couldn't come because his new restaurant fell on him.
Here, take his character, Fredo Lumpanelli, the impotent patsy despised by all.
- Oh, come on.
- And so let the mystery begin.
When you think you have the solution, just hit the gong.
Do you have an alibi for last Friday, Slappy? I was at the speakeasy.
I run the joint, don't I? Say, big fella, do you own a knife? I do own a knife, but it hasn't been sharpened in many years.
Say, pal, I heard you were mighty drunk last night.
Hey, fuck you, Greg.
Mind your business.
So you were not at the speakeasy last night, is that correct? Where is your Chicago accent, Fredo? Ugh, fine.
Uh, what's the rumpus, see? Was you or was you not at the speakeasy, see? What are you? Some kind of pirate? Can you just stop making that noise and answer the question? Sure, I was at the speakeasy.
I saw sweet Sally leave around 10:00, you sorry galoot.
Mm-hmm, that solves it.
The true mystery is, who is the real Judy Sparecrust, no? For she is hidden by two great shadows: wealth and beauty.
You are too much, Pon-Pon.
Say, doll, you got any hot stock tips? I got 250 clams, and I got to get rich and move out of my parents' basement by the end of the week, see? What in the hell are you talking about? This man is nuts, no? Or should I say peanuts? Pon-Pon, I can't get enough of you.
May I lick your feet? What's the matter, Fredo Lumpanelli? Can't take the hard truth from a tough dame? Yeah, I know your story.
You get pushed around, and you take it.
Hmm.
Excuse me, please.
Think you take it hard, and you like it.
Oh, it's only you.
Hi, Pon-Pon.
What is that Pon-Pon up to? He's not asking anyone any questions.
He's just goofing off and smoking and peeping through bathroom windows.
Okay, but shouldn't we get back to solving the main mystery? That's why we're here.
Don't worry, I solved that in the first 15 minutes.
Yeah, it'll take everyone else hours.
What? Impossible.
Okay, now that we are here, I shall reveal the identity of poor sweet Sally's murderer.
Not likely.
You see, Pon-Pon blew off the game to murder a bottle of Calvados - Ding.
- With his mouth - Ding.
- In the library.
Ding.
You, madame, are the murderer.
Fuck, that's correct.
- Dong.
- Me? Why would you say such a thing about Zelda Batsby? Because Judy Sparecrust is spoiled and bored.
She wants attention, no? Especially the attention of Pon-Pon, eh? Like all criminals, she wants to be caught.
So you leave your character sheet for Pon-Pon to see, là , by the cacahuetes.
That's French for "peanuts.
" Guilty as charged, Pon-Pon.
No, no, no, don't applaud.
That's not fair.
It's using information from outside the game.
Oh, la, la, la, the game.
Oh, Monsieur Hunchman, is it not the detective's job - to observe ev-er-y-thing? - Okay, fine.
But, but, I have solved a different mystery.
Pon-Pon, you are not Belgian.
This cigarette you were smoking, it's a Ducal, made in only one place in Europe: the micronation known as Luxembourg.
Uh, Luxembourg? It's gong time.
Ding, dong, ding, ding, dong, upon my gong.
Oui, oui, I will confess.
I am from Luxembourg, not Belgium.
Ah-ha-ha, so your entire identity is a lie.
Oh, influential grown-ups of Richardsville, how your idol has fallen.
But lying only makes him more interesting.
She's right.
Huzzah for Pon-Pon! - Huzzah, Huzzah! - Pon-Pon! - Huzzah, huzzah! - Sorry, boys.
Museum of NASCAR just canceled the undercover gig.
But we already bought those NASCAR suits.
Well, Greg over there is on the board, and he wants to give the job to Pon-Pon.
Okay, do we still have all those other gigs lined up? Oop.
Oh, boy.
Aw, gee.
Aw, yeesh, not anymore.
Sorry, fellas.
Looks like Pon-Pon fever is highly contagious.
Pon-Pon, Pon-Pon, Pon-Pon, Pon-Pon! Aw, jeez.
I wonder if actual murder mysteries are this depressing.
Kendra was right.
I'm doomed.
No, no, just wait until channel 57 airs their amazing profile about us.
We'll be back in the grown-up game before you know it.
Do you have any Mountain Dew to mix with this weird wine? - It's really not very sweet.
- Fresca fridge.
Ah.
I'll be right back, champ.
Oh, and look on the bright side.
Um, there's no creepy visits from Motorcycle Car Lady tonight.
Fresca fridge.