The Glep Ep/Transcript

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[Intro plays]
[The episode starts with the Smiling Friends building, with snow all around. Cut to Mr. Boss in his office, a santa hat on his head.]
Mr. Boss: Happy holidays, boys! It's time for your yearly performance review! First off, Pim and Charlie, you guys made 126 people smile this year. That's seven more than last year! That's pretty good!
Pim: YES!!! [jumps extremely high] How wondrous!
Charlie: Yeah, that was mostly me, but that's-that's pretty cool.
Mr. Boss: And Allan, you've- you've- you've done stuff too, right? Emails, documents, and- and... great job, man.
Allan: Thank you, Mastor. [bows down to Mr. Boss]
Mr. Boss: And Glep... Oh, uh, looks like he's not here. Well, I'm sure he's uh, off working on some really important stuff.
[The room falls in silence, the employees glancing at each other.]
Charlie: What i- What is Glep's job exactly?
Mr. Boss: Uh, well, he's the... the... Well he does a lot of work, right?
Charlie: I don't know. I mean, whenever I see him, he's just on his iPad playing games and watching movies.
Pim: Yeah, I thought that was his job or something. I was kind of always unsure.
Mr. Boss: ...What...? So he just does nothing all day?
Charlie: Yeah, but I mean I thought you knew that, like uh I mean you've seen him sitting on the beanbag before, right?
Mr. Boss: [realizing while his hand is on his head] Uh I-I thought he was taking breaks from working so hard.
Allan: Nope. The lazy bastard doesn't do anything.
Mr. Boss: FUCK man, what the FUCK?! [throws his santa hat on the floor, clearly pissed] This needs to change. Where is he?
[Cut to the break room, Glep sitting on the beanbag with his iPad, containing a dating game, a Instagram live stream, a Subway Surfers-like game, a few memes, and a KNN News stock tracker at the same time. The group enter the room.]
Mr. Boss: Yo, Glep.
Glep: Huh?
Mr. Boss: ...What do you actually do around here man?
Glep: Uh, [gibbering]
Mr. Boss: No I'm not bein' funny right now man, like- like, what do you do at this company? Can you name one thing? Wha- What do you do here? Name one. One thing!
[Glep stares at Mr. Boss with no response.]
Mr. Boss: Why did I even hire you in the first place, man?
Glep: [gibbers angrily, snaps his tablet in half and throws it away, and leaves the room]
Mr. Boss: Oh, you quit? You can't quit cause you're FIRED! GET OUT!! GET OUT!!! GET OOOOUT!!!!
[Mr. Boss pants, Glep slamming the door.]
Mr. Boss: Well that sucked... [southern drawl] Alright, I'mma go take a dump. [sniffs]
[Mr. Boss slams the bathroom door and strains hard, farting and plopping sounds can be heard from far away.]
Pim: Oh... poor Glep.
Charlie: Yeah... it's gonna be weird in the group chat now.
Allan: Oh yeah, we should kick him. [takes out his phone, and so does Charlie.]
Pim: Sorry, which... group chat is that?
Charlie: Oh, yeah it's just like a stupid gro-heh, group chat we do where it's like f-we just- it's not even that good, it's like we just send funny stuff and... making sure to laugh, but yeah it's not even... it sucks, it's not even good.
[Glep is driving on a highway in his supercar, then he pulls up to a mansion. Glep opens the door to his wife Marge coming down the stairs.]
Marge Simpson: Glep, you spend too much time at work and give me no attention, and it make-a me sad! [runs down and grabs her luggage] I'm going back to my home country for the holidays... Gushnya! [runs to the supercar sobbing and driving off]
[Cut to Glep now sitting down in his living room at night, watching television.]
William Worm: In other news, there were 50 stabbings today!
[Glep changes the channel.]
Man: I'm sleeping with my sister.
[A unnamed lady groans and tears up, Glep changes the channel again to a crude football game. Glep, again, changes the channel, this time to a realistic bodycam.]
Shooter: Drop it, drop it! DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE! [The shooter shoots a unknown blue creature before Glep turns off the TV.]
[Glep sighs and gets off the seat. He puts on his coat and leaves. Walking in the snow, he comes across a bar. He goes inside and sits on one of the stools]
Bartender: What can I get for you?
Glep: [gibbering]
Bartender: Sure, can I see some ID? [Glep takes out his wallet and hands the bartender his ID] Goddamn, man! You was born in 329 A.D.?! You must have seen some crazy fucking crap in your time, dude!
[Glep's eyes widen as a flashback to Rome, 476 A.D. begins to play. Two guards hold Glep as they bring him to Romulus Augustulus.]
Guard: Sir, this thing was caught stealing apples from the apple market.
Romulus Augustulus: Hmm, an interesting little critter. Why should I not kill you now?
[Glep does The Glep Dance™ while speaking gibberish.]
Romulus Augustulus: What!? That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen in my LIFE! I HATE that! I HATE IT, I HATE IT, I HATE IT! I'M GOING INSANE!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-[Romulus jumps out of a window, killing himself.]
Onlooker: Oh my god! The Emperor is dead!
Onlooker #2: What do we do now?
[The city then emerges into a crowd that's now killing each other, then barbarians show up.]
Onlooker #3: OH NO, BARBARIANS!!!
[The crowd screams while the barbarians kill everyone.]
Guard: Hey, man. You should probably leave.
[Glep looks down while leaving. The camera zooms through the smoke, transitioning to another flashback, this time in England, 1347 A.D. Glep is tied to a pole while pilgrims hold torches, pitchforks, and stakes, about to kill Glep.]
Pilgrim #1: That's him right there, that's the witch! I saw him do a magic spell and turn milk into yogurt!
Pilgrim #2: That's the witch, kill him! KILL HIM!!!
[The pilgrim goes up to Glep, about to burn him.]
Pilgrim #1: Any last words, WITCH?!
[Glep looks nervous before coughing a black liquid on the pilgrim, before the pilgrim coughs and spreads a disease to the crowd, killing them all.]
Glep: [gibbering]
[Cut to yet another flashback, this time in Virginia, USA in 1777 A.D., Glep is with the founding fathers around a fire pit as they laugh together.]
Thomas Jefferson: Dude dude, oh my God man, it was so funny. What was it, it was like 10 or 20 British dudes or something like that, yeah yeah, dude.
Alexander Hamilton: Yeah, about that.
Thomas Jefferson: And they came and they fuckin'- Oh my god man. And what did they say, they were like... "oH wHeRe'S mY tEa?" Or some shit like that, I was like, "Um, how 'bout NO?" [All three laugh] It was so good, it was so funny man.
John Adams: AH, YEAH YEAH NO NO, I REMEMBER WHEN HE HIT THE FUCKIN' THING WITH THE THING- [smacks hands together, more laughter from all three]
Thomas Jefferson: Yeah yeah, no no no, that was so funny man, it was so funny!
Glep: [gibbering, which then awkwardly trails off]
[The founding fathers glance at each other.]
Thomas Jefferson: O... kaaayyy?
Alexander Hamilton: Um... Who-who invited him again?
Thomas Jefferson: I think it was Ben.
[Benjamin Franklin is snoring, holding a beer bottle while sitting on a gaming chair peeing himself.]
Thomas Jefferson: [stands from his chair, grunting] Anyway I... I think I might call it actually, I'm getting pretty sleepy.
Alexander Hamilton: Alright, I'm gonna take off...
John Adams: Yeah yeah, I think it's time, yeah I think it's time to go...
Alexander Hamilton: Yeah, same. Alright, see you later.
[The presidents leave while Glep looks down in visible sadness, feeling left out. Transition back to the bar, where the patrons gather around Glep.]
Bartender: Wow... That's crazy. So, you're saying you went to space?
Pink bar patron: No, he didn't say anything like that, I don't think you were listening. What he was saying is he's been around for centuries and he's never been able to fit in anywhere.
Party Bro: Wait up man, what the fuck, you started the Bubonic Plague?! Huh, you think that's funny? What the fuck, man?! Fuck you! You're a sick fuck, man.
Bartender: Look, I liked your story, but I think it's best if you leave.
[Glep looks down in sadness again as he leaves the bar.]
Party Bro: Yeah that's right, leave motherfucker! Plague starter, go to Hell dude! FUCK you...! [voice breaking] Guys, come on, can we all say a prayer for the victims of the plague please...?
[The patrons chatter in agreement with Party Bro and join hands.]
Party Bro: Heavenly Father, we ask for your mercy and grace for the 25 million plague victims...
[Cut to Glep walking down the sidewalk before stopping in front of a bus stop. A buss pulls up before flashing back to Pennsylavania, USA in 1992 A.D. Glep holds a suitcase at the same bus stop and walks to find a younger and drunken Mr. Boss throwing a beer bottle.]
Mr. Boss: AH! FU-HUCK, I'M RUINED! [sobs before laughing maniacally and goes back to sobbing again, then he notices Glep] Get away from me! What do you want?!
Glep: [gibbering]
Mr. Boss: Oh, you're new here. Well guess what, kid? Nobody gives a damn! This city will chew you up... [spits] ...and spit you out! I just lost everything in a goddamn market crash! [sobbing] I'm so fucked!
Glep: [worried gibbering]
Mr. Boss: Oh okay, it's gonna be fine? Awesome! [pulls out a gun and puts it against his own head] Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger.
[Intense music starts playing before Glep starts doing The Glep Dance™ and speaking gibberish. Mr. Boss's face lifts into a smile.]
Mr. Boss: You just made me smile even though my life is terrible... [puts the gun down] Wait, that's it! This is my next business idea, making people smile! We can start a business i-that does exactly that! What do you say?
[Glep thinks for a bit.]
Glep: Yeah. [shakes hands with Mr. Boss]
[Back to the present, Glep still sad. He goes back to the Smiling Friends building to apologize.]
[Glep enters the break room, but stops in shock to find Allan running around screaming, a group of rats scurrying over a shriveled up Charlie, and Pim taped up to the ceiling. Mr. Boss barges out of the fridge door with a few arrows pierced to his head, eye, and arm.]
Mr. Boss: Yo... Hey, Glep. [sighs] Look, uh... I may have gone a little too far when I fired you. I was thinking why we started this business in the first place, and... It was because of you, man. If you wanna sit on the beanbag and do nothing, that's fine with me. That's who you are and why you're so freaking cool, Glep.
Glep: [apologetic gibbering]
Mr. Boss: No need to apologize, man. Wanna come back?
Glep: Yeah.
Mr. Boss: Yippeeee!!!
Pim: [with Charlie's groan] Hooray... [falls off the ceiling]
[Snowy transition to a dining room, where the group are now having Christmas dinner with photo-realistic food.]
Mr. Boss: Thanks everyone for coming to the supper room for Christmas dinner! Gotta use this room more often, hahahaha!
Allan: Fathor, may I have some peas, please?
Mr. Red: Yes you may, son. [pats Allan on the head] Thanks for asking me nicely. [Eats the peas and vomits them into Allan's mouth]
Allan: [smacks lips] Mmm, nutri-ti-ous.
Pim: Wow, you grew up so fast, heh. So do you still run around a lot at home and stuff like that?
Running Pimling: No, I haven't run around in a while. I just do crypto stuff now.
Pim: Oh. Cool.
Zoey: You have gravy all over your face. [about to wipe Charlie's mouth with a napkin]
Charlie: [pushes Zoey away] Hey, don't touch me... [burps] Don't ever touch me.
Marge Simpson: [quickly runs to the dining room] Oh, Glep, I'm so sorry we had that horrible fight! To make it up to you, I made a dish of my home country.
[Marge opens the lid of the serving dish to a gross-looking dish, indistinct distorted chatter playing in the background. Marge then serves Glep the dish and kisses him.]
Narrator: So, despite being a weird little green freak that no one understands, Glep finally figured out where he belongs, which just goes to show that no matter how different we all are, everyone can get alone with each other... Except for a certain group of people. [points at viewer] You know who I'm talking about.
Charlie: Excuse me? [The group then looks at the narrator]
Narrator: What?
Charlie: What did you just say?
Narrator: I was... Just wrapping up the episode, ya know.
Charlie: You said something- You said something about a certain group of people, what did you- Which group- which group were you talking about?
Narrator: Oh, it was a jo- It was a joke, it didn't- It was a joke, but it didn't land as much as I thought... But it doesn't matter, I guess uh... You know, whatever. Whatever. [chuckles] Cha-cha-chaaa.
Charlie: But I'm- But I'm just- But I- Wait, I mean I'm just curious though, what gro- You're not gonna say what group it was? You don't wanna say what- which- which group?
Narrator: It was the group that ca- Was supposed to... It was supposed to be a mind experiment, whoever came to your-
Charlie: Huh?
Narrator: Who-whoever came to your mind, but doesn't- It was a joke, doesn't matter, it didn't land as much as... I thought it would, doesn't-
Charlie: Just say the group dude, just say what the- Just say what the group is.
Allan: Sorry, who- I'm with Charlie here and I don't- We don't even know who you are, who are you?
Pim: Yeah.
Charlie: How did you get in here? This is a private event.
[The narrator looks down, shifting his eyes.]
[A Christmas-themed variant of the credits play.]
[Back at the bar...]
Party Bro: W-we ask that you... bring them to greener pastures and help them gain way through the pearly gates and into... an eternal... life of bliss and love... in Jesus' name...
Bar patrons: Amen.
Party Bro: Bye, have a great night.