Community s02e09 Episode Script

Agnes, cancel my appointments.
What appointments? Wishful thinking.
It's called, "Alternative Energy: The Key to a Brighter Tomorrow.
" Notice all the animals wearing sunglasses? Because it's a brighter tomorrow? Yeah.
My boys are in elementary and don't make as many dioramas as we do.
The Environmental Club is making them for Green Week.
This afternoon, in the cafeteria, we're having a Bio-Diorama-Rama.
I heard one kid made a diorama about a world without dioramas.
I sleep over at your place tonight? Totally.
We're both done with classes, we can start the sleepover now.
Let's get in our pajamas and build a blanket fort.
A blanket fort.
Wow.
You can come hang out with us.
Uh, thanks, but I think I'll find something more grown-up to do.
Hmph.
Okay, enjoy eating fiber and watching The Mentalist.
- Britta, that wasn't nice.
- I'm sorry, Shirley.
But who wants to hang out in a blanket fort with grown men in tiny Underoos? Hello.
So, Jeffrey, I was just looking over your class schedule.
Why? Uh, maybe it was a random spot check.
Maybe it was a specific spot check.
Maybe I'm making a scrapbook.
The point is, you will not be receiving credit for your independent study: "Conspiracy Theories in U.
S.
History.
" What? Why not? Because the class doesn't exist and neither does the teacher, Professor Professorson? What? That's his name, it's Dutch.
Oh.
I think it means professor.
I think it means poppycock.
The ultimate Jeff Winger blow-off class.
The one that doesn't exist.
Now I have to audit an entire system for shenanigans, which means, bye-bye, weekends.
Bye-bye, writing at Starbucks till a certain Persian barista asks me about my novel.
God, Jeff, it's one thing to blow off regular classes, but this devalues all the credits I work very hard for.
Can I defend myself and say this is nuts? I've been meeting with this professor, in his office, every Wednesday, all semester.
Professor Professorson? Yes.
Really? You're gonna commit to this? Commit to what? Reality? Okay, then, please, lead me to Professor Professorson.
Gladly.
This I got to see.
I've dreamt of playing charades with you, just not like this, and not on dry land.
Oh, man.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
You thinking what I'm thinking? We're too big for this, aren't we? Yeah.
If we went two pillows higher in the corner we could vault the ceiling.
Bump up the square footage.
Make this a blanket fort for men.
Well, here we are, Professor Professorson's office.
Oh.
Oh.
I don't know what's going on.
Believe me.
I've spent a whole year studying conspiracy theories with Professor Professorson right here.
Wait.
Of course.
Conspiracy theories.
This is a test.
He's teaching me about real conspiracies by erasing his existence.
My God, do you know what this means? That's how stupid Jeff thinks other people are.
I knew you were lazy, but I didn't realize you'd stoop to such pathetic lies.
One man's lies are another man's truth, wouldn't you say, Jeff? I'm sorry, and who are you? I'm Professor Professorson.
Wow.
You really had me going there for a second.
I thought I was going insane.
Precisely.
An actual conspiracy to round out your education in conspiracies and theories thereof.
Your real name is Professor Professorson? My family name is Professorberg, but we changed it when we were fleeing from the Nazis.
I'm so sorry.
You've never heard of me, I primarily teach night school.
My faculty ID.
Huh.
Well, I guess I've never stuck around late enough to meet you night school professors.
TV's gotten crazy good, you know.
Well, I have to take this.
Thank you for indulging me, dean.
Jeff, read chapters 10 through 12 of Douglas and see you next week.
That is, if I still exist.
See you, professor.
Sorry to doubt you, Jeffrey.
More importantly, out with this audit, back to chapter one of: Time Desk: The Chronicles of Dean Dangerous.
That is gonna be the worst book I'll ever read cover to cover.
I'm a terrible friend.
I accused you of being a lying cheat.
Can you ever forgive me? Sure.
Here's the thing, though: I've never seen that guy in my life.
What? That wasn't Professor Professorson? There is no Professor Professorson.
I made him up.
I forged a form with a phony teacher and class for a free credit.
I knew it.
Oh.
You lying cheat.
Wait, then, Who was that? I don't know.
Wait, what? I don't know.
What should we do? We should grab some lunch.
I'm serious.
So am I.
I saw Fat Neil headed to the cafeteria.
We got 10 minutes to grab the last lima bean.
You made up a professor and he appeared out of thin air.
You're not curious how that happened? My latest theory? I'm a god.
I've denied the signs.
So typical, you're gonna blow off what happened? Yes, especially when not blowing it off might cost me my free credit.
Now, do me a favor, be very un-Annie and blow it off too.
Oh, sure.
Oh, I'll just blow it off.
I'll just blow everything off.
Heck, I guess I'll blow off walking.
Okay.
And now I'll just blow off standing.
I'm just blowing everything off.
- Excuse me.
- I'll blow off talking language.
Okay.
Hey, bros, what's the haps? Whoa.
Sweet fort.
Can I come inside? Can you give us a second? Corn you gorben Bluh You could, Pavel.
Or maybe the inside could come to you.
How would you characterize the amount of blankets and pillows you have? A buttload.
I get wicked cold, bros.
Mad sleepy.
If you're here to help me take my diorama to the Bio-Diorama-Rama, I can do it myself.
Yes, you made that clear in your You even work too hard at passive aggression, you know that? Hey, so do you know anything about Greendale's night school? Yeah, I'm assuming it's the worst thing you could ever hope to be in, only at night.
Damn it.
You've been playing detective? You'll Nancy Screw me out of my credit.
Relax.
I only asked the administration desk if I could borrow a faculty directory.
And take a look at this.
Is that Professorson? His real name is Professor Woolley.
And he actually does teach night school here.
Why would someone you've never met pretend to be your professor? He was carrying falsified faculty credentials.
You know what this means? Yes, you are making me do work for my fake conspiracy class.
Exactly, there's a conspiracy here.
A dark, vast conspiracy that may just go all the way to the top.
This is Greendale, Annie.
If there's a conspiracy, it goes all the way to slightly below the middle.
Wait a minute.
Something's wrong.
My car won't start.
Hold on one second.
Hello.
Tell your little friend to stop snooping around night school.
Otherwise, things might get explosive.
Annie! You okay? Yeah.
I probably didn't need to tackle you.
Probably not.
Looks like someone sent us a message.
A tiny, thoroughly underwhelming message.
I hope you've already laid out your outfit for tomorrow morning.
Because we're going to night school.
I stole these from my son's house.
When does a fort stop being a fort? Hey, as long as it's still made out of blankets, right? These will be perfect for the Pierce's Mom Memorial Tunnel.
So this is night school, but where's Professor Woolley's class? How about this one? No, that's Professor Huyck's class: "History of Something.
" You can't pronounce it? It literally says "History of Something.
" Let me see that.
"Principles of Intermediate"? "Studyology"? "Class 101"? Look, this one just says "Learning!" With an exclamation point.
Hello, Professor Professorson.
Or should I say Woolley? What class are you teaching tonight? Math.
Math? Uh-huh.
Do you mind if we sit in? Not at all.
Right this way.
So, what kind of math do you teach, professor? Oh, you know, math.
Uh Numbers.
Pi.
New math.
Um Get him.
He went into that blanket fort.
I think he went this way.
You see him? No.
Come on.
- Troy, Abed.
- Hey, Annie.
Welcome to Fluffy Town.
No smoking, no farting.
We're in a chase.
That's allowed.
There he is.
Follow us.
But afterwards you should really check out our civil rights museum.
- Leonard, back up.
- You shouldn't even be in here.
You have three farting strikes.
He's getting away.
I know a shortcut through the Turkish district.
Hey, man.
Britta? Hey.
Go.
There he is.
- What the hell is this? - Latvian Independence Parade.
Don't look at me, they had the proper permits.
Dang it.
We lost him.
I sent the diorama car to the chem lab to have the explosive analyzed.
We could Isn't that him playing the trejdeksnis? Nice try, Woolley.
Now tell us everything.
Tell you? I'll show you.
What is this place? This, Annie, is night school.
Every student, every teacher, every class.
Figments.
Puffs of hot air from the lips of a ghost in the shadow of a unicorn's dream.
I made it up.
Night school doesn't exist.
I used to be a student here at Greendale like you.
Then one day, I invented a fake course to get a free credit.
I had to create a fake teacher, who needed other fake classes that needed to be filled with fake students and so on, and so on, and so on, exchetera.
Did you just mispronounce "et cetera"? My Latin class was fake, Jeff.
Like all my classes, like my life.
Aren't you listening? Yeah, I am.
And a very familiar feeling is starting to come over me.
Someone is trying to teach me something.
Jeff, the only thing that's ever been learned in this room is regret.
Would that this desk were a time desk so that I could correct my past mistakes, ride dinosaurs.
Fight with Jack the Ripper.
Wait a minute, wait a minute.
Unicorns? Ghost lips? Time desks? Doesn't any of this overly stylised garbage remind you of anyone? Everything this guy says is ripped from the sure-to-be-unpublished pages of Dean Dangerous.
I don't know what you mean.
Oh, I think you do.
By the way, next time you walk someone to your fake lair, don't pass the Theater Department.
Drama Professor Sean Garrity.
Whoa.
Thank God.
That character was killing me.
Word of advice, if you ever scrape the dean's car, don't tell him you're gonna pay him back in acting.
On Thanksgiving, I'm supposed to crash his family dinner and accuse him of stealing my girlfriend.
Wow.
I guess this did go all the way to the top.
I'm calling the dean right now and giving him a piece of my mind.
No, wait.
Garrity.
Does the Theater Department have any of those prop guns that fire blanks? Of course.
We did a modern retelling of Macbeth set in gangland Chicago.
Oh, fresh take.
And you think I'm lazy.
Prop guns? Jeff, what do you have in mind? A little demonstration for the dean on the dangers of trying to educate me.
He doesn't like fake classes? Well, he's about to get a real lesson on the fact that Jeff Winger never learns.
Here he comes.
Get set.
You wanted to see me? Oh.
Hi, Mr.
Professorson.
His real name is Woolley.
And he's defrauded your school to the tune of dozens of credits per year and nearly twice as many dollars.
That's serious.
Fortunately, I'm a big believer in second chances.
I'm not.
Annie! Annie.
Oh, my God! You shot him.
Of course, I shot him.
He was being dishonest.
And if there's one thing Greendale's taught me, it's What the hell? She had a gun.
It was a fake gun.
We staged this to get back at you.
Oh, you're the deceiver, Jeffrey.
Yeah? Well, now you're the dead guy.
Jeff, what are you doing? Why do you have a real gun? Why did you shoot the dean? Well, he shot you.
Not really.
He and I were in on this from the start.
He found out you were faking a class he came to me and we cooked up this thing to illustrate the slippery slope of academic fraud.
You know what you actually illustrated, Annie? How to be a crappy friend.
Once it was obvious the dean had orchestrated everything, it was even more obvious the dean was too stupid to orchestrate anything.
Mm-hm.
So on a hunch, I called him and we hatched a plan to teach you a lesson or two about friendship.
But, Jeff, I only did it because I love you.
Well, when you love someone, you have take them as they are.
People aren't playthings, Annie.
No, they are not.
Look who's talking.
After everything you've put me through? Okay, where did you get that gun? There were only three prop guns.
I live in a terrible neighborhood.
Annie, put the gun down.
After we kissed, I waited all summer to see you.
You buried me like a shameful secret.
- Whoa.
- What's the matter, Jeff? Afraid crazy Annie would go crazy for you? Well, guess what.
Annie's got a gun.
Annie, just put the Annie, what have you done? If you love Jeff Winger so much, why did you conspire with me against him? I don't know.
I can't keep track of any of it anymore.
I just keep teaming up with whoever suggests it.
Glad to hear you admit it.
Aah! Aah-aah! When I called you to ask you to double-cross Annie, you didn't hesitate.
Do you understand what a conspiracy is? If you conspire with every person, you're not even really conspiring with anyone, you're just doing random crap.
I know, I'm sorry.
I just I just want to have fun with you guys.
I go crazy cooped up in my little office and Time travel is really hard to write about.
Okay.
If I'm keeping track right, we should be done.
I'll just take these back to the Theater Department.
Police! Drop the weapons! Down on the ground.
Don't shoot, don't shoot! Please, they're fake.
Those were prop guns.
Well, I guess it just goes to show you, prop guns belong backstage.
And scene.
You have got to be kidding me! Professor Garrity told me what all of you were up to.
Made me mad.
Guns aren't toys.
Fact, in 100 percent of all fake-gun-related shootings, the victim is always the one with the fake gun.
Hey, Sean, you got breakfast plans? I do now.
So, Sean? We're still on for Thanksgiving, right? Just talk to your father, Craig.
Would that this hoodie were a time hoodie.
Hey, dean, how about that credit? - No! - Damn it.
I'm not sure what lessons we've managed to teach each other, but I'm proud of Annie.
She took to deception like Abed took to Cougar Town.
It's really good.
Especially when she went off-script.
- You said to be convincing.
- Check it out, bros.
You made the front page.
You know what this means? We've gone mainstream.
Initiate Protocol Omega.
Hey.
We've started looting.
Hey, that old, crabby man just stole my TV.
Wanna build a cardboard submarine? Get out of my brain.
Once.
Upon.
A.
Time.
There.
Was.
A Big.
Spaceship.
And.
Aliens.
And.
Mercenaries.
And? War.
And? Betrayal.
And? Romance? And? Karate.
And? Credits.
The.
End.
We should write a screenplay together.
Cool.
Cool, cool.