The Neighborhood

Hey, Calvin.

Hey, how was your run?

Oh, it was great; I did five miles but I could really use...

some new shoes.

Oh, my bad.

I thought you were gonna say "cool down."

Hey, did you see the ambulance

in front of Mr. Benson's last night?

Yeah.

Any idea what happened? I want to get some intel

so I can update our neighborhood Facebook page.

We have a neighborhood Facebook page?

How many people are on it?

Well, as soon as you accept

my friend request, two.

So do you know what happened to Mr. Benson?

Yeah.

He dead.

Whoa, wha-what? Calvin.

That... that's terrible.

You wouldn't say that if you knew him.

I mean...

there's a reason that people in this neighborhood

called him "Mean Mr. Benson."

I didn't know they called him that.

Yeah, probably like you don't know

they call you "Bobblehead Dave."

Oh, I know it and I love it.

So what was so mean about Mr. Benson?

Oh, everything. The man has terrorized

this neighborhood since I was a kid.

Always yelling at people to cut their grass

or pull their trash cans up.

And if ever I had a ball or a Frisbee go into his yard,

never saw it again.

You know, that actually reminds me.

I accidentally threw our Frisbee

into your backyard the other day.

- Green one? - Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Haven't seen it.

Well, you know...

I'm sure Mr. Benson wasn't all bad.

I mean, take my Aunt Phyllis.

Nobody liked her, but once you got over the fact

that she treated her pets better than people

and pretty much despised all of humanity,

she made the most delicious rhubarb pie.

Well, Mr. Benson was so mean,

not even the Jehovah's Witnesses would knock on his door.

And they talk to anybody.

I know, aren't they the best?

But then they're always like, "We got to go now, Dave."

So, do you know when they're having his funeral?

I don't know. He was such a loner.

There probably won't be one.

And even if there was, no one would go.

Man, that's so sad, Calvin.

- Yeah... - We should do something

to remember him.

We should put his death on the neighborhood Facebook page.

What... So you'll accept my friend request?

Sure. Just as soon as he does.

Mm.

Oh.

Okay.

"Ten Ways to Please Your Man."

All right, well, let's see

what's on the menu for this weekend.

Okay, okay, I ain't mad at that.

I see you, number seven.

Okay.

Oh, number nine, you just a little ol' freak.

Let's see what number ten is... Oh, hell no.

No, nuh-uh, oh.

No, uh-uh.

Oh.

- Hey, babe. - Oh, hey, Calvin.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's all this?

Well, we just came from the church meeting

about Mr. Benson passing.

And since he didn't have any people,

I offered to throw the repass here.

- What? - And then I discovered

that a repass was kind of like a funeral after-party

and we were off to the races.

Uh, hold on, Tina.

We're not hosting a repass for somebody I hated.

I wouldn't host one for myself and I love me.

Look, I didn't like him any more than you

but it's the Christian thing to do and besides,

I've thrown plenty of stuff for you that I didn't want to.

- Like what? - Like that end of the year banquet

for your bowling team where you all just

sat around and complained about being robbed.

They overwaxed the lanes, Tina.

You know, this repass has your name

written all over it.

Oh, you mean like my Frisbee?

Hey...

Calvin, don't worry, okay?

I'm pitching in, too: I'm picking up flowers

and I volunteered to say a few words on

- on Mr. Benson's behalf. - But you didn't even know the man.

And I'm about to change that.

I'm gonna ask people in the neighborhood

for their fond memories of him.

Oh, okay. Here's one.

For Halloween, he threw rocks at me

and yelled at me, "Get off my lawn, Wack Ninja!"

I wasn't even a ninja, Dave.

I was a black ghost.

Okay.

Calvin, I've never seen a black ghost.

Well, trust me. In this neighborhood,

you don't want to walk around with a white sheet

- over your head. - Okay.

Fine, you know what? Maybe Mr. Benson was

a little bit grumpy.

But I believe that if you look hard enough,

there's something nice to say about everybody.

Oh, see? This is about your bitter old aunt

and her bitter rhubarb pie.

Oh, no, no, no.

My aunt was bitter.

The rhubarb pie was incredible, Calvin.

It's so nice of you guys to host Mr. Benson's repass.

Well, it's the right thing to do.

Get the neighborhood together,

everybody brings food and bam!

There's enough leftovers that Mama doesn't

have to cook for a week.

Hey, Mom.

Hi, sweetie.

I've been thinking about Mr. Benson.

Where do people go when they die?

Oh, um...

uh, well...

that's a good question.

And the answer is very complicated.

You see, existence is a complex thing...

Do you know, Miss Tina?

Well, of course I do.

If you're good, you go to this glorious place

in the sky called Heaven, filled with angels

and toys and all the candy you can eat.

Cool.

See, Mom? Simple.

Well, that wasn't exactly the answer I was gonna give.

I know, girl, but I got a repass to plan.

We would have been here all day.

I didn't even think about all the questions

this was gonna raise for Grover.

Well, why don't you just tell him what you think?

Because that's exactly what my parents did to me.

They told me what to believe.

I-I'd rather have Grover figure it out for himself.

I respect that.

I mean, it's blasphemous, but I respect it.

Hmm.

And what's this?

Looks like somebody wants an early birthday present.

- Hey, babe. - Hey.

Got the food for the repass.

Calvin, what is this? I told you to get finger foods.

Oh, I did.

You can eat these day-old bagels with your fingers.

Oh, he's just being cheap because

Mean Mr. Benson never paid him

for mowing the lawn in the summer of '79.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Is there a statute of limitations

on making a black ghost cry?

Calvin, don't you think

you're being a little ridiculous?

Just let it go.

Oh.

This from the lady who had to switch

grocery stores for being called out

for having more than 12 items in the express lane.

If they're gonna count gum as an item,

it shouldn't be at the register.

Hey, hey.

Turns out half my childhood

was in Mean Mr. Benson's backyard.

Oh, lookee here.

It's Marty's little army doll.

Hey, man. He was a prisoner of war

for 15 years.

Welcome home, soldier.

So much has changed.

Oh, what's that?

Oh, no, Malcolm still lives here.

Mom, what's a massage parlor?

What? What...

Why would you ask that?

I'm looking for Heaven on Google Maps

and it says it's a massage parlor in Koreatown.

Oh, okay, I-I, uh...

I think that's enough screen time for today.

Hey.