The Freak Brothers

I can't believe it.

There's a basement under our house?

The way we see it,

there's a house on top of our basement.

Noah, you were in charge of renovations when we moved in.

How did you not know about this?

When have you ever put me in charge of anything?

Uh...

"Schlitz Tall Boy." Can appears to be made of steel.

- Could be a collector's item. - Mine!

No! Not yours!

Not your basement. Not your beer can.

Out, I'm kicking you out.

You can't, Harper. Identifiable personal items.

Layer of filth three inches thick.

Clearly, they've been here longer than 30 days.

They have squatters' rights.

Hey, Friendly Sister.

Can you ask Angry Sister why we need to prove

this is our house?

Phineas, my bum itches. Will you look at it?

I'm not going near your ass crack

'til you introduce it to a bar of soap.

Jesus Christ, Gretchen, look at them.

They're half a rung above apes.

Freddy, I think the lady just paid you a compliment.

Thank you, lady!

Hey! Be careful with my Playboy. I haven't used that one yet.

May 1969. Also a collector's item.

Noah, either support me or make up

with your cousin Clarence, so you can sleep on his couch.

Hmm?

Are you gonna let her talk to you like that?

I'm sure there's some sort of amicable solution that...

...doesn't force me to take a side.

Ooh, boy, she got your balls in a jar.

Itchy, itchy, itchy, itchy, itchy, itchy.

What am I looking at? This is crazy.

They can't stay here.

Don't use the C word, it's ableist.

The "sanity-challenged" need our support, not judgment.

Uh, ladies, no need to fight.

Although I do find your fiery demeanor

mucho erectionable, if you get my meaning.

I think he means it gives him a boner.

But I don't speak German.

No. Do not fuck with me, Gretchen.

You know how that's turned out for you in the past.

- Not great. - Oh, please.

This isn't volleyball at Camp Wozniak.

We're on my field now. Game on.

- We're in my house! - Our house.

I mean, it's jointly owned.

It's just a fact, not an opinion. I don't have one.

I'll file a motion for a temporary stay.

- I'll oppose it. - And I'll see you in court.

Somebody needs to gimme a ride to...

- I'll do it! - Buy my first tampon.

What's gonna happen when the Switzers kick us out?

I don't wanna go back to the orphanage.

You don't have to worry about that, Freddy.

As this formula clearly shows, I can get us back to 1969.

Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Oh, I see.

Uh, carry the one. Divide by two.

What the fuck does any of this mean?

It says, if I reverse the chemical composition

of the potion, I can return us to the past.

I'll need benzene, tar, cadmium

and looks like the tears of a Holy Man!

This itch is turning into a tickle.

Now it's back to an itch. Tickle, itch, tickle, itch...

Any way to turn it into a can of salmon?

'Cause I'm hungry!

Hey, aren't we also gonna need some mari-jay-wanna?

Yes! But not just any strain of Sweet Mary Jane, boys.

It's gotta be exactly the same as we smoked 50 years ago.

That strain don't exist anymore.

Which makes all this about as useful as tits on a nun.

Itchy butt, itchy butt...

God, dammit, Freddy! I'm computin'!

Will somebody please look at my bunger?

Hmm. It's green...

- - and leafy.

Holy shit! That's a ganja bud!

What have you been doin' up there, boy?

It's a bung-hole, not a bong-hole.

I don't know, I do a lotta stuff up there.

A lot of stuff does go up there, I've seen it.

But I think the pertinent point here is that bag of weed

you shoved up your fat ass fifty years ago.

- - What's that in your hand?

- Nothin'. - I need a cop over here!

- Let's book! -

- Ew! Gross. -

- Get that weed in your butt! -

So the exact strain of weed we need is takin' root right here,

in Freddy's fertile fanny!

Get it out, get it out!

Ow!

Why are we doing this?

- I mean... -

- I'm in, but... -

Hold still! The plant hasn't matured yet!

That there weed is our ticket back to '69!

We need to grow it just right.

But we don't know nothing about weed farming.

What about those guys we met in jail?

Chuck and, uh, and Charlie?

Yeah, yeah. They did say they was weed experts.

And they seemed very smart!

We've grown a lot of weed in our day.

But never out of an ass.

Smoked it from plenty though.

Hell yeah, we have. We've done a lot of butt bongs.

Gets you super high, but bad breath.

Yeah, not the best taste.

You gotta have a mint afterwards.

- Pound me on that one. - Mint pound! Boom!

- -

Y'all heard of the blind leading the blind?

This here's the dumb leading the dumber.

Shit!

Chuck or Charlie, can I get a hot dog

with onion and relish?

They ain't selling dogs, man. They're selling weed.

Oh, no, we sell hot dogs too.

Freddy, hook a Kitty up with two everything dogs.

Oh, hold the onions.

They repeat on me like a motherfucker.

You know who might know how to grow ass weed?

- Mothafuckin' Doc Green. - Did you say Doc Green?

As in Doctor Arlo Ignatius Green?

Can't be.

The one we knew in '69 should be dead ten times over!

He might be dead, but he's also alive.

He's got a farm up in Humboldt County.

A real field of dreams, man.

Imagine a farm.

But instead of corn, or potatoes, or wheat

or cotton, or flour, it's weed, dude.

Doc Green grows the best weed

in the whole country of California!

Gentlemen, to Humboldt County!

- Fascinating. -

I haven't seen this strain in 50 years.

You're a man of science, Doc, always were.

You boys look terrific. You haven't aged a day.

You look like your own great-grandfather.

You can go fuck yourself!

Now, listen, the weed is too risky to transplant.

- It must be grown in anus. -

Doc Green, you ever grown a marijuana plant

out of a man's asshole before?

I've grown it vaginally.

Heard tell of urethral hydroponics,

but this, oh, I could publish with this.

I want co-author credit on the back cover.

I'll give you the dust jacket, ya rotten prick.

Now, listen, when you guys get back to '69,

- I want you to do me a favor. - Anything, Doc.

Tell my younger self to buy Microsoft, buy Apple,

and don't sell Mother's house in Cupertino.

How is Ma Green?

Oh, took a shank to the spleen

while doing a dime stretch in the federal pen.

But never ratted me out.

Bitch ratted me out. Called Animal Control.

Snitches get stitches!

Looks like we got some new players in town.

Scary looking too.

These guys could start a drug war

the likes of which this town has never seen. Ow! Oh, God!

Fuckin' A, my glasses broke in the middle of my...

Let me try it again.

The likes of which this town has never seen!

- How was that? - Amazing.

Oh, God. Why is it so hot in here?

- What the... - Evening!

What is all this crap?

We're butt farming!

Uh, do you guys have any

nitrogen-based liquid fertilizer?

Harper, we are using sophisticated

scientific principles to travel back to 1969.

Once we acquire the tears of a Holy Man, of course.

And harvest weed outta this gentleman's rump womb.

1969? Savage.

First moon landing, Beatles' Abbey Road.

And Woodstock.

Right on. We were at Woodstock.

You were?

No. Of course they weren't, Camille.

Woodstock was 50 years ago.

You know nothing. You've done nothing.

- You are nothing! - Eh.

With all due respect... [chuckle.

You should be thanking us!

We're doing all this so we can time travel

back to the past. Where you are not!