The Great North

Pancake Patrol initiated.

Sergeant Syrup reporting for duty.

- At ease. - Copy that.

Are we clear for strawberries?

10‐4, Rear Admiral of the Lower Half

of the Whipped Cream. Ready, aim...

Fire! Fire, fire, fire, fire, fire.

It just blows my mind every day.

The precision, the formation.

It's like a breakfast‐themed Jabbawockeez.

- They don't rehearse this? - No, just comes naturally.

That's Alaskan twins for you.

Born nine months apart, twins of the heart.

It's like Mom always used to say:

I'm pregnant again.

Well, the van's started,

but it's making a sound that can only be described

as "a screaming."

Let's just hope the engine lasts

through the Feast of Not People Festival this weekend.

Now, what is the Feast of Not People again?

- We eat people? - No, we don't eat people.

That's the whole point. The Feast of Not People Festival

is an annual celebration of Lone Moose's origins,

when the first settlers got off course

on their way to Florida and ended up here...

Well, okay, not the first first settlers.

Those were actually the Alaskan natives,

- to whom this land rightfully belongs. - Right.

So these European settlers, who were total ding‐dongs,

came in the dead of winter, with zero snow‐how.

Lotta loose bonnets, if you know what I'm saying.

These underprepared vacationers turned

to eating each other to survive

And they ate a lot of each other.

We're talking four trips to the buffet

with a new plate each time.

Eventually, though, they realized

they were surrounded by scores of edible fish and wildlife.

So there's a festival celebrating that the town

used to eat people?

No, again, we celebrate not eating people,

and we do it by not eating people.

Oh, and the best part is the Feast Cake.

It's a huge cake in the shape of anything that's not people,

cooked by our local Cake Lady.

She makes a cake big enough for the whole town?

Yep. The Cake Lady somehow always outdoes herself,

year after year.

What a hot box of pressure.

Yes. That Cake Lady sure must be

sweatin' batter, mustn't she?

But that's enough festival talk, isn't it?

Not really. I don't think I totally understand

what an Alaskan Cake Lady is.

Oh, allow me to explain.

Every Alaskan small town has its own confectionary visionary

known as a Cake Lady.

But ours recently retired. To jail.

Turns out the only thing she liked to cook more than cakes

was, uh, the books for our very small

but very violent local mafia.

She made her cake, and now she has to lie in it.

And after she went to the big house,

an unknown mystery baker has been fulfilling her orders

and delivering them in the dark of night.

She makes you purchase through electronic mail.

I liked the old system, where you tacked your order to a tree.

Well, you can bring it up with whoever it is on Sunday.

It's town tradition for the Cake Lady

to personally unveil her masterpiece at the festival.

To win us over, this year's Cake Lady

is really gonna have to cake it...

to the limit.

What a funny wordplay, Judy.

Whoa.

What's up with Ham?

He usually loves talking baked goods.

He was probably just laughing to cover a fart.

Oop.

Okay, Ham, so you have that math quiz second period,

so take my lucky pencil with the good eraser.

- Ham, are you listening? - Yeah.

Um, uh, sorry I forgot to tell you

but, um, uh, I actually‐‐

Uh, I won't see you at lunch today.

Yeah. Good one.

Uh, same. And I also won't see you at lunch

because I'll be having lunch with, um, someone from history,

alive or dead.

No, I'm being serious.

Okay. Well, just tell me what you're doing at lunch

- and I'll do that, too. - Sorry, Judy.

This is something I have to do alone.

- A private lunch. - Um, okay.

I said good day.

Festival competitions.

"Guess How Many Teeth in a Jar," "Big Pit,"

"Animal Bite Parade," "Cadaver Dash."

Is that the one you guys were talking about,

where there's something far away

and you have to guess what it is?

No, no. That is

"Identify That Thing in the Distance."

"Cadaver Dash" is where teams compete

to find and collect the most cadavers.

Ooh, fun. So it's like an Easter egg hunt

if the eggs weighed a couple hundred pounds.

Exactly. Dad and Uncle Brian

are longtime reigning Daver Dash champions.

So, Dad, I‐I guess since Uncle Brian moved to Anchorage,

it's gonna be you and me as partners this year?

Actually, I was thinking I've already won it

so many times with Brian, maybe I'll just throw my hat

in the teeth jar this year.

Or, you know, I‐I know I'm no Uncle Brian,

but you could try throwing your hat in the me jar?

All right, I guess I could dash one more year.

Yeah! Team Tobin.

When I say "father," you say "son." Father!

- Father. - We got this.

Oh, and Moon will no doubt want to be a cadaver again this year.

He's one of the best dead people in town.

Oh, that sounds interesting.

Maybe I'll sign up to be a cadaver, too.

Great! Well, I better start practicing for the dash.

- Care for a ride? - Sure. Legs, sit this one out.

Hey, Dad, you carry someone, too!

Santiago, may I carry you?

Me? Wow. It would be my pleasure.

I've never played a dead body before,

but I made an amazing Rizzo

at Almond Grove High's production of Grease.

The newspaper called my performance "serviceable."

That won't help you here.

This isn't some shallow rendition of the '50s.

This is real life. This is death.

I'm not sure you could even be quiet for five seconds.

Easy. One, two, three, four, five.

Hmm. I should definitely train you.

All right, you can be my Obi‐Dead Kenobi.

Oh, good. You guys are here.

So, Uncle Brian is 220 pounds of pure Alaskan stallion.

I'm 160 pounds of droopy pony.

Thus, I've got my body all mapped out

and a solid plan to meet family standards

by dash time.

Did you have to be nude?

Relax. I drew someone else's penis in place of my own.

Step one: core.

Since you can't carry without a strong core‐y,

I've gone ahead and downloaded an app called abpp.

When it's not crashing my phone, it's working my zone.

Step two: bladder.

You don't want to be taking any bathroom breaks

during the dash, so I'm gonna be upping my liqs‐‐

that's what I call my liquids‐‐

and stretching that blad.

That's what I call my bladdy, which is what I call my bladder.

And step three: hands.

Most Tobins' hands are, medically speaking,

more similar to claws.

Me, I got a pair of soft‐and‐floppies

just like Mom's, so what I did is bought Holdems.

High‐traction gloves that guarantee superb grip.

One weekend seems like the perfect amount of time

to make all of these ambitious changes to your body.

Soup's on! Not really soup,

but if you want to cut up your hot dogs

and put 'em in water, who am I to stop you?

Oh, hello, Ham.

Is it okay if I eat dinner with you

or are you having a private dinner, too?

In case anyone is wondering what I'm talking about,

Ham had a private lunch at school today without me

for the first time ever.

But maybe he'd like to tell me now what it was.

- He would not. - Ooh, you know, I think I may have a lead

on the Cake Lady.

I really, really doubt it!

Okay. Calm down.

I am calm!

I am a very calm person who does not want to talk

about the Feast Cake or the Cake Lady

or what I did at lunch.

Seems like there's a lot of topics

that are off‐limits.

Yeah, so maybe we should just not talk.

- What's on TV? - Diondra Tundra here

with Mayor Peppers, doing a deep dive

- into this year's Feast Cake. - Oh, no.

Our Cake Lady countdown clock is ticking away.

‐ ‐Son, are you all right?

Do you need the barf basket?

Can the new Cake Lady

live up to last year's

unforgettable "Thanksgiving Dinner

with All the Fixins Cake"?

- Nope! - Ham, what is going on?

All right, fine. I can't take it anymore.