A.P. Bio

Previously, on "A.P. Bio..."

Ah, dang it.

Oberland rejected me. all: Aww.

- They said I don't have a high school diploma.

Well, yeah, because I didn't graduate from high school,

you dummies.

Well, it looks like Helen Henry DeMarcus

is going back

to high school!

Good luck.

And now, "A.P. Bio."

- Mom, what popcorn topping do you want?

Nacho cheese or ranch?

Whatever you want, Jacky.

- Hm. I can't decide.

What's tonight's episode called?

"Poor Butterfly."

Read the blurb please.

- "When a dangerous pimp assaults

"Fatman's sole witness against him,

"Jake talks a scared prostitute

into helping him set the pimp up."

A pimp-catching episode.

Definitely nacho cheese.

[popcorn machine humming, electricity zaps]

- What the heck?

Why aren't you spinning, big guy?

We don't need popcorn

to watch an old "Jake and the Fatman."

- No, no, no. You're wrong, okay?

Because it's a tradition, all right?

We need the popcorn and the Butter-tastic Pop 2

or it just isn't Tuesday Night Stay Up Late TV Night.

It just isn't. - Okay.

- I don't know what to do. No, no, no.

Come on, man.

Ah.

What the hell?

[Ramones' "Listen to My Heart"]

One, two, three, four!

When I kindly demanded

a refund, that hell pigeon threw a tiny piano at me,

leaving this abrasion on my forehead.

So I thought I bought a full-size popcorn maker, not...

this.

all: Aww.

No, it's not cute, okay?

It's--it's small, and it's stupid.

Hey.

Uh-uh.

- Oh, you didn't check the dimensions, did you?

Internet pro tip, man.

Always scroll down and check the dims.

- I'll take the tiny popcorn maker.

I have a dollhouse, and drama's really been building up

since Kelsey caught Stink in the hot tub with Andre.

But that just what happens when

seven strangers are picked

from my toy box to share a home.

Did I do a fail? - Mm-hmm.

- Oh, Target has popcorn poppers.

And if you come in on a Tuesday or a Saturday,

you can buy a hot dog from yours truly, Grace.

- Grace, I've talked to you before

about plugging Target hot dogs in here.

Plus, I don't want just any popcorn maker.

Okay? I want the Butter-tastic Pop 2.

- If you're looking for my analysis

of this situation... - Oh, I'm not.

- It seems like you've confused...

- I am not. - The magic of TV night

with a specific brand... - I never am.

Of popcorn maker, and buddy,

that's like scooping peanut butter out of a jelly jar.

- Anthony, what's going on over here with all the glitter?

- It's a multimedia thing I'm working on

that combines history, rap, and glitter bombs.

It's sort of the next

revolutionary step after "Hamilton."

Lost me at "Hamilton," bud.

- So I had you for the full thing then.

- Guys, this is the mission, okay?

We need to destroy this little granny.

Now how are we gonna do it?

Porch turd?

Come again.

I'm good.

- Why don't we just sell this lady

a bunch of doll-sized furniture, right?

And then when she gets it,

it'll be full-sized furniture.

- How are we gonna make full-size furniture look tiny?

- All you gotta do is make a 6-foot soda can.

And then take a picture

of the regular-sized furniture next to it.

I do it all the time.

- Yeah, let's send that bitch a sectional.

Mr. Griffin,

if you're still wondering what Marissa said,

I believe it was,

"porch turd."

- Yeah--okay. Thanks, Eduardo.

Guys, we gotta think bigger, okay?

I wanna hurt this old lady the way she hurt TV night.

All right? I wanna mess up her little store.

Without killing anybody. You know?

That should go without saying with all these, okay?

I mean, you guys know it's never that, right?

Has that been super clear?

That--that we don't kill the person?

- It's definitely good to hear out loud.

Yeah, now, Anthony,

these glitter bombs, when they explode,

they could destroy something, right?

- The point of a glitter bomb is not destruction.

It is wonderment. - Right.

But if I were to jam one into a tiny dollhouse,

it would wreck it?

- I think it would be glamazing.

- Yeah, but an old dollhouse lady would hate it?

- Only if she hates beauty and refracted light.

- Okay, I think we're saying the same thing.

Thanks, Anthony. All right.

Well, a mission is born.

- You okay with covering for me now?

Absolutely.

I'm the principal of the school.

I can answer a couple of calls.

I'm probably gonna kick back

and finish my book,

"You're OK, Divorcée. Adventures in Singlehood."

- Good. You're doing the work.

Do you mind if I take the keyboard cleaner?

I'm really sweating it up.

Helen, are you nervous?

- I am, Ralph.

You're gonna be fine.

Think of old Harold. Sacramento, all right?

Wife left him when he was 97.

Said he was too old.

Now he's out there dating,

having the time of his life.

Or--or maybe not. This was published in 2013.

He's probably dead.

- Oh, now I'm half nervous and half sad.

Congratulations, Ralph.

You made me into an actual teen.

- Are you too angsty to do a handshake with your principal?

Never.

both: Boom. Boom.

Oh. Oh.

Oh. Oh.

Oh.

Oooh.

Uh-uh-uh.

We got this.

Thank you, Ralph.

Hey, get going, little missy.

The bell rang ten minutes ago.

Oh, my God.

Out of my way, boomer.

- - Morning, Ralph.

- Hey. - My Sex Ed condoms came.

Oh.

- And looks like I ordered enough

to get the free dildo!

Oh, uh...

- Oh. Don't worry.

I'm giving it to a friend.

I am totally asexual, Ralph.

Actually, no, Ralph.

I'm not totally asexual.

I'm--I am fully sexual,

and this dildo is for me

for sex purposes.

Have a nice day.

- Stop having those delivered to school!

- She has a little White House replica

right inside of her door.

So Anthony and I can plant the glitter bomb

and retreat very easily.

We just need---

We need somebody to distract Granny Shitbird.

We need the ultimate distractor.

What about you, Sarika?

You seem like you go into a lot of stores

and ask to speak to the manager.

- Only if the customer service is subpar.

- You asked to speak to my manager.

It's called a hairnet, Grace.

- Okay, no, but we need a true distraction here.

- If it comes to it, I'd be willing to show my, uh,

kazoo.

- You--no. No, come on, no.

And please never tell us what you're referring to.

- Hey, yo, Mr. G. What if it was this?

Let's say it's raining.

I've got my shirt open, of course.

I walk up and I'm like,