Bruno & Boots: This Can't Be Happening at Macdonald Hall

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1

- Macdonald Hall.

- Over the last century,

- Its students

- have gone on to become

Judges, scientists,

journalists,

and one magician who

we don't like to talk about.

But just because they went on

to change the world

doesn't mean they didn't have

any fun while they were here.

What is this noise?

That's Boots.

All-around athlete,

all-around great guy.

- Not much of

- a Death Rooster fan.

Seven-alarm clock sound.

- That's me, Bruno.

- Slacker, rules hacker,

and all-around

not a morning person.

Bruno, we slept in. Practice

starts in 10 minutes.

- The two of us

- don't always agree.

Our schemes don't

always work out.

- We are so cut from the team

- if we're late again.

- Relax. I figured out

- how to shave

- Three minutes

- off our shortcut.

Man, you are so accurate

with a frozen kumquat!

- But we're best friends

- for life. Roomies forever.

Oh, we gotta go.

There's no time for...

Waffles?

- And nothing will ever

- change that.

- Looking good,

- Chris!

- Lucky for us,

- I always have a plan.

Nice.

Finally, some alone time

with my flags of the world.

OK, what do I start with?

You know, I've never

envied the boys

- over at the Hall

- before...

Until aerial meditation day.

Om...

- Cathy and Diane go to

- the school across the street,

the Scrimmage Academy

for Education and Awakening,

which has produced just as many

judges, scientists,

- and journalists

- as Macdonald Hall.

Coming through!

Gotta mow this! Kinda late.

Talk soon, bye!

- And that's Sturgeon,

- our headmaster.

Always on the lookout

for trouble,

- which usually means

- me and Boots.

Sturgeon's nickname

is The Fish,

but you don't wanna call him

that to his face.

Here you go,

Willy,

the updated you-know-what list.

I have divided them

into bad seeds and bad apples.

Ms. Davis, what do you know

about Malbonia?

Is that a skin condition?

Well, technically it's an

unincorporated protectorate

with a constitutional monarchy,

but the real question is,

why is their flag on our pole?

What?

Oh, good Lord.

One hundred.

Roll call!

Hey, look out for

that garbage can! Look out!

Okay, O'Neal...

And that's what I call

sleeping in in style.

- It was so relaxing.

- Why don't

We do it every morning?

Never seen you before. Okay.

- I've been thinking about that.

- I kinda have a plan.

Of course you do.

If we put in job rsums now,

dude, we'll have jobs at the

Hall by the time we graduate

and then we'll never

have to leave.

- I'm just kinda still figuring

- out if we keep our room.

Okay, helmets on!

Let's get... lacrossing.

Yeah, practicing will help us

beat those York turkeys.

- Wouldn't it just be more fun

- to pull a bunch of

- Hilarious

- pranks on them, though?

Come on, we're

better than that.

Is that brains?

Please tell me

that's not your brain!

It's pudding! And it's

on your heads! Ha-ha-ha!

The best part is when you put

the pudding in the helmets.

- Ah yes, Macdonald Hall's

- bitter rivals, York Academy.

This isn't a story about that

rivalry, but it starts there,

thanks to a really

dumb prank called...

The old "putting pudding

in a helmet" gag. Classic!

Let's get out of here.

Later, suckers!

Look on the bright side...

Free pudding!

Ha-ha-ha! Mmm!

Good morning, Headmaster

Hartley speaking,

working hard for my students

every day and every way.

Cut the bull, Hartley,

you know it's me.

Headmaster Sturgeon?

Well, somebody certainly

got vinegar on their chips

this morning.

Actually, Hartley, I was

getting tired of waiting

for your call.

Call? What call exactly?

The one where

your boys apologize

for pulling that infantile prank

on my junior lacrosse team.

Prank? What

do you mean, prank?

- We don't have any pranks

- scheduled here.

Well, I'll just check my agenda,

shall we? Prank...

no... no prank...

no prank...

no...

No, absolutely no prank

scheduled whatsoever.

Come off it, Hartley,

are you telling me

you don't know anything

about these pudding helmets?

Oh my!

- That's not where

- pudding belongs.

- That sounds

- downright messy.

I hope it didn't

set your boys off.

Because pudding needs

to set, you see.

Yeah, I got it, Hartley,

it just wasn't funny.

Oh! Well, you know

what else isn't funny?

I'm getting tired

of waiting around

for you to call me all day!

Call you? What on earth for?

To reassure me

that your students won't stoop

to some lame-o retaliation

against my boys.

You know, let me remind you,

Headmaster Hartley,

that while my boys aren't

perfect, not by a long shot,

they are certainly

well above petty things

like getting revenge. Goodbye.

We need revenge.

All of it.

All in favor?

It's unanimous:

revenge will be sought.

- Okay, just promise me

- whatever we do,

- It's better than

- shoving pudding into a helmet.

Exactly, right? Like,

where's the poetry in that?

Where's the craft?

Alright, so what do we do?

I believe this calls

for a revenge pitch speed round.

Good pitches get a thumbs up,

bad pitches get the gong.

You heard the man.

So what have we got?

We'll play the sound

of an ice cream truck,

and when they come running out,

there's no ice cream.

Okay, I'm not saying

it's a guillotine, but...

okay, it's pretty much

a guillotine.

We infect York's water supply

with a special strain

of rhinovirus,

spliced with just enough

earthworm DNA

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