Look, science now confirms that many of the rocks
we throw at birds are, in fact, the same rocks
that randomly fall out of the sky onto people.
So, what, we're just supposed to sit back
and let that hawk with a knife stab us dead?
Yeah! Your brother strapped a knife to that thing,
and now we're done for.
You don't know true fear until you've been
face to face with the Knife-Hawk.
I want to stop Knife-Hawk
as much as the next guy.
Just be mindful is all I'm saying.
We're in a city now, we're a lot more densely packed,
which brings me to my next item.
Who can tell me what these things are?
A piece of a vase, some dirty cloth,
and chicken bones?
That's what they used to be called,
but now I'm giving them a different name—garbage.
All of this is garbage,
and there's too much of it everywhere.
You're telling me those three different things
are now one thing?
Don't get hung up on the word,
even though it was perfect. The point is—
So if I want to chew on a chicken bone,
I have to say "Pass the garbage"?
If you want a chicken bone,
you can still say, "Pass the chicken bone."
But once it's on the ground, it's garbage.
So now things have different words
depending on whether or not they're on the ground?
I'm on the ground. Am I garbage?
No. Look, once again,
the word thing was just a fun little way to start.
You basically just killed the entire concept
of conversation.
"Hi, garbage? How's your wife and garbage?
Nice garbage you're wearing."
Is this how we're living now?
Yeah, walk me through this.
Why aren't we all sometimes garbage in this new paradigm?
Yeah.
Look, let me start again.
Stuff is piling up, and we need to do something about it.
Nothing is more important than—
Knife-Hawk!
Now, that's lamb cooked rare—
bloody on the inside and a little bit of wool
on the outside.
Well, I just had a swing and a mi—aah!
- Stupe! - What?
It's not my fault you can't walk on bones.
I just talked to my citizens about
cleaning up after themselves.
They didn't get it, and it seems like you don't either. Mom!
Furious entrance, darling!
I have a reason to be furious.
I've just been to my temple. What is he doing on the floor?
Ty gets off on collecting old food,
and he wants everyone in town to do it, too.
There's an element of humiliation to it.
Right. So as I was saying,
I was just at my temple, and there
wasn't a single offering there. Can you believe it?
I absolutely can believe it.
Why would anyone leave you offerings?
Because I'm a goddess!
But, like, goddess of what?
Over the years, I've had many titles:
goddess of self-destruction, questionable choices,
a boozy brunch, dust devils, derring-do.
Dust devils?
Those little knee-high tornadoes of dust?
Your predecessors were terrified of them.
And I'm delighted by them.
Those sweet little things.
Only problem is there's no cheeks to pinch.
Mother, you actually have to do things for people
if you expect them to worship you.
That doesn't sound right.
Hey, Ty, I don't know what you said
to people today, but they are really freaking out.
What exactly did you do?
What do you think you're doing
with my sexy amphora?
It's ugly, it's embarrassing,
And now I finally have a word for it. It's garbage.
My father gave me that!
And he's like, "Hey, today, no big deal,
"but everything is gonna be different.
"Some things will have value
"and some things won't have value,
and it's up to you to decide."
Kayleigh, what did we just talk about?
- Chicken bones? - Yes,
but the example includes all discarded animal parts.
I just don't understand anything.
You really did a number on these guys.
I feel stupid.
OK, so you know pits, right?
Of course I know pits.
We've been using 'em for years.
A good pit can snag 30, 40 guys a day.
It's a battlefield staple.
All right. So you know pits.
Now, do you know grease?
I don't know. It's great on food.
Gets all over our hands, though. Slippery stuff.
Wait a minute. You're not saying, like...
- A greased pit! - It can't be done.
It can.
Grease in the pit, grease on the walls,
grease around the perimeter.
Greased pit.
No, you don't understand.
- We can't do this. - Why the hell not?
Because it's not right! A fully greased pit?
I mean, I'm all for destroying my enemies,
but you're talking about whole armies sliding in
not knowing what hit 'em.
It's not a fair fight. There's no glory in this hole.
Stupe, we build this,
and you'll never have to fight another war ever again.
It's more than a grease pit. It's a peace pit.
No, no, no. You're not thinking it through.
We build it, everyone else builds it, too.
Then what do we have? A world full of greased pits,
or what's left of a world.
Look. The idea exists.
It was there for me to discover.
Other scientists are way behind me, but they will get there.
The only question is who gets there first.
Aah! You're right.
We have to do this.
I can't believe what we've done here today.
May all the gods have mercy on our souls.
Right, so let's just get the ladder
- and get out of here. - What ladder?
OK, everyone, attention, please.
We're going to start this whole thing over again.
I need you to forget that I ever said
anything about garbage.
Isn't that a relief?
How can I forget something that I remember?
It like my brain— It's—god!
It hurts so bad!
Now, is that barf garbage if a cat eats it?
I can see both answers being right, and the fact that there
can be two answers, possibly even more,
chills me to the bone.
I just wish there was an authority I could turn to.
What do you think I am.
He's saying he wishes there were
- a god he could turn to. - Is that true?
You mean to tell me if a god told you to pick up the stuff
all over the ground, you'd do it, no questions asked?
Well, yeah.
I mean, I'd imagine he'd smite me if I didn't.
You know, it's not every day
that a brand-new human thing
comes along that causes this much mental anguish.
It was an unintended consequence.
Please don't dunk on me right now.
I'm not going to dunk, darling.
These people need a god where there's currently no god,
and that's simply something you can't do.
I'll take over from here.
Everyone, I am Deliria, goddess of garbage.
Worship me!
OK, great. So then in addition to the worship,
though, you'll also make them pick up their—
Worship me!
Tyrannis, softly: Wonderful.
- Deliria! - Over here! Pick me...
Goddess Deliria, in exchange for this offering,
would you please tell my roommate
that his collection of really old yogurt is garbage?
- How old is really old? - Here. Another sheep.
The yogurt's garbage.
Here's a barrel for you
to toss that stinky yogurt into.
I'll just throw it on the street.
That works for me.
Mother, I appreciate your help here,
but I kind of thought it would involve a little more cleanup.
You know, zap-zap and the garbage goes away.
Why would I do that?
Because I'm having a garbage problem.
That's why all of this is happening.
I need people to throw their garbage away.
You are the goddess of garbage, right?
Shouldn't getting rid of garbage be a big thing you do?
Darling, does the goddess of war get rid of war?
What?
Does the goddess of sex get rid of sex?
I wouldn't know.
The gods don't get rid of the things
they're gods of. That's where they get their power.
Right. Sure.
But didn't you say you'd be helping out?
I am helping out.
You created confusion about this garbage thing,
and I pounced on it as someone
they can direct their weird energy toward,
and the offerings are pouring in.
Someone even gave me a baby.
What? Give it back!
Fine. Here. It's someone's baby.
Mazel tov. Or, I don't know, bon appétit.
You know you're
not the real goddess of garbage, right?
- Real? Who cares? - Well, that's—
Well, actually that's sort of interesting.
It's not the god that does the work,
it's the idea of the god.
All right. Well, if you're just going to be
processing thoughts out loud, I think we're done here.
- Hyah! - Whoa!
Whoa! Oof.
All right. I gotta call it. I give up.
No, you can't. Come on. Just one more time.
- 14th time's the charm. - Come on.
We both know how this ends. Heh!
I always thought I would die in battle.
Guess that dream's dead.
I always thought I'd evolve beyond death,
but I didn't get there in time.
So how do you wanna do this,
you wanna kill each other
or just watch each other gradually starve to death,
or I eat you or what?
Let me think about it.
Hippo, Stupendous!
No one's at the palace, and I'm bored!
It's Dad! He can fly us out.
Dad! We're in here!
But watch out for the grease!
Yeah, fly in.
It's greased before you think it is!
Aah! What!
Whoa! Whoa! It appears I've been spooked.
My lower half is spooked.
You gotta calm yourself down!
Did you not hear me? I'm spooked.
You can't self-calm when you're spooked.
Once the spooking starts, it has to run its course.
We know!
Whoa! Whoa! whoa!
Hey! No, no, no, no, no, no, noooooo!
Shh, shh, shh. There you go.
- I'm good now. I'm good. - Can you fly us out?
My wings are greased!
You bastards.
Do you have any idea what you've built here?
This is the very invention that killed humans the first time.
First time?
Hey, Joshua, my man.
Remember when we were talking earlier about a garbage god
who would smite you if you didn't pick up garbage?
Honestly, I haven't stopped thinking about him,
especially since your mother
turned out to be the garbage goddess,
and she doesn't seem to care about picking things up.
Tell me about it!
Well, get this—there is another garbage god.
He is in charge of picking it up and putting it in barrels.
What's his name?
His name is...
Mister... Boogens. Mr. Boogens.
Does Mr. Boogens work with Deliria?
He does not. In fact, they are bitter enemies.
The story is, he grew out of Deliria's pinky toe, but she
was such a terrible mother, she killed him
by stuffing him into a barrel and tossing it into the sea.
And he also made her forget all her sons' birthdays
every single year, which is the only reason
why she hasn't wished me a happy birthday.
Wow. What's he look like?
He's got a pig nose for smelling garbage
and eagle claws for picking up garbage.
You definitely don't want a visit from him,
so I'd chop-chop on the garbage.
Right, yes. Of course.
Anything not to be smited by Mr. Boogens.
"Is it your birthday?"
Yes, it actually is.
How's the degreasing going?
Hopeless.
I sure didn't skimp on this stuff.
This field gives us a good entry into the city.
Get in formation to attack!
- Invaders. - Do we warn them?
If we do, then they'll sack the city.
Now do you understand
why we had to do this?
I understand it, but I don't like it.
Over here!
Attack!
Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!
Whoa!
Is that everyone?
I could've sworn we had one more elephant.
- There he is. - Cool.
That's it. Everything in the barrels.
Mr. Boogens commands someone to refill my cheese board.
What the hell is going on?
There's no one at my temple and the garbage is gone.
I would thank you,
but you didn't fix my problems for me,
so I had to bring in the big guns.
- This is the work of Mr. Boogens. - All hail Mr. Boogens!
That's right, Joshua.
Did you make up a god?
I did.
He tells people to clean up the garbage
or else they'll be smited.
- You can't do that. - Why not?
You made yourself the goddess of garbage.
Yes, but I was already a god!
How exactly does Mr. Boogens operate?
He sends his messages through me.
Do the people ever see this Mr. Boogens?
Nah. I just told them he talks to me in my head.
So you made up an unseen god
who talks to mortals in their heads,
and you don't think that's dangerous?
Hey, everyone!
Mr. Boogens talks to people in their heads!
I heard him. I just heard him in my own head.
He commands us to wear these hats.
He told me the hat is all wrong.
We're supposed to wear tall sandals.
You're just self-conscious
about your height.
From now on, Mr. Boogens only talks to me.
Don't listen to him. He's getting rich selling hats,
and that's not what Mr. Boogens is all about.
War time!
- Aah! - You killed him!
One afternoon pretending to be a god
and you've trashed the city you were hellbent on cleaning up.
I couldn't teach you a better lesson
than you've taught yourself.
I'll just tell the people
as plainly as possible what happened. I'll own it.
That should make things fine.
We did good today, sandals-people.
Thanks be to Boogens.
Hey, Joshua, mind if I have a word?
Good Boogens to you.
Right. So, about that. Mr. Boogens isn't real.
He's a god I made up.
That's interesting because he's very real to me.
The fun's over, my son is an idiot, and I
wouldn't blame you for holding this whole episode
against him, but he is right. Mr. Boogens is a fake.
He made him up, and pretty recklessly, I might add.
I know you might be feeling a little foolish
right now for going along with a fake god's wishes,
but please be comforted knowing that your actions
really helped Krapopolis.
Well, until the destructive war, but I'll take the heat for that.
Sorry. I wasn't listening.
Mr. Boogens was just talking to me, and he told me
that kings don't matter.
Well, I agree with you there.
But, seriously, drop the Boogens stuff.
He's obviously not real.
Of course the evil mother of Mr. Boogens
would say that.
Are you saying that I'm Mr. Boogens' mother?
Yes, you're evil. And in a world
where Mr. Boogens exists, we don't need you.
Ty, did you tell him that?
OK, technically, yes, but—
Furious mother exit!
I'm sorry, Mother.
It's just because I was in the zone.
You know how creative I can be.
You were mad that things didn't work out
exactly how you'd envisioned they would, and instead
of managing your expectations, you tried a shortcut.
I just wanted some help from my mother.
And your mother is a god.
If gods made the world perfect for you,
you'd become just like us—
bored little teenagers breaking things for fun.
Is that what you want?
- Desperately! - No, you don't.
You want the world to be a better place for some reason.
And your good intentions led to the creation of a monster
that neither of us can control—
an all-powerful being that no one can see
and everyone thinks they can hear.
This kind of thing happens every once in a while.
No one can shut it down.
I'm going to have to tell the gods to destroy the world
- and start over. - Wait. What?
We do it all the time. It's fine.
Not fine for us!
Despite that shocking admission, I want you to know
that I don't really think you're evil.
I like to think of myself as a real piece of work,
but being evil would be better than being irrelevant.
You are pretty good at terrorizing people.
Thank you.
And I do think you'll make the world a better place eventually.
Not when everything I try backfires.
I mean, Mr. Boogens worked too well,
and that was only because he wasn't me
and didn't even exist.
Wait a minute. I have an idea.
Mom, give me a pig nose and eagle claws.
I still don't quite understand what happened.
Whatever monster did this deserves to die.
Wait! It was me. She tried to stop me.
She said there was no honor in it.
- Well, there isn't. - I know.
And yet if we'd had the idea,
we would have done it, too.
You know, we tried to grease a volcano once,
but grease doesn't make you fall uphill.
That sounds like an interesting challenge, though.
I'm scared!
The more I think about how we can't get out,
the more afraid I am.
Can we just slaughter each other?
No. There will be no slaughter.
I refuse to be stuck in a greased pit
with a bunch of dead bodies.
I've been through enough as it is.
There will be no slaughter,
no sudden movements, and no loud noises.
- My stepdad gets spooked. - I get spooked.
But I think together,
we might be able to get out of here.
So what do you propose we do?
Let's take stock of what we're working with.
On our side, we've got
the world's strongest and tallest warrior.
Thanks, bro. We've also got a genius engineer.
And I'm a hoot!
Thanasi's got a really long braid.
Well, this seems obvious enough.
Have you ever climbed multiple men? I have.
Shlub, read the pit. It's not time for a sex brag.
I mean, if you climb atop each other,
not only will you get a good feel for each other's bodies,
but if you do it right, you can be free of this pit.
Scramble and hoist.
And enjoyyyy.
Whoever gets out first will have an advantage.
And the biggest soldier will have to anchor
if we're going to have a chance.
Well, I guess we'll have to trust each other.
And enjoyyyy.
Hey, braid guy,
let's see what that thing can do.
I gotta get a braid guy.
I gotta hand it to you.
That thing— that thing is amazing.
I think it might be too amazing.
The greased pit is a perfect weapon,
and that's why I think
we have to agree to never use it on each other or anyone else.
It's mutually assured destruction
if we use this thing. For all humanity.
Shake on it?
Let me be the first to fill in this pit.
Whoa! No! No! Come on!
We don't need to fill in the pit, right?
Nah. We'll remember where it is.
Aah. Boy! I'm hurt. I'm hurt real bad.
This is classic me!
This elephant looks pissed.
I'm gonna disappoint our way out of this,
but first, scare the crap out of them.
I am Deliria, and I am more relevant than ever!
And I am Mr. Boogens.
And almost immediately,
people began to ignore Mr. Boogens.
Whether it was Tyrannis' performance
or the fact that people could no longer project
whatever they wanted onto this god,
his importance in their lives began to wane—
It happened really fast, actually.
I mean, you're seeing cross-dissolves,
but it's less of a time thing and more of a drama thing.
This is basically one afternoon. Like an hour, hour, 15.
I think it's my pace. Sorry, guys. I just woke up.
I'm laying down right now.
What are you up to, little guy?
Sorry. I'm talking to my cat.
Hang on. Hey, bitch.
Nothing. I'm just recording a V.O.
How's Simon? How was that sushi place?
He did what? Hang on a sec—
so they started ignoring Mr. Boogens,
and that's why you've never heard of Mr. Boogens.
It's about generational trauma.
Did you get any of that?
Bento.