-Hey, Dad, I did an experiment.

By carefully exposing my turtles to select doses of radiation,

I've begun transforming them

into a radical, tubular crime-fighting team.

Like on TV!

Sweetie, that is so inventive and the cutest little experiment ever.

Are you proud of me?

Ha! Are you kidding?

You just gave those turtles cancer.

-What?

Yeah. What were you thinking?

You just Chernobyled their insides into turtle soup.

Even Mipsy?

Especially Mipsy.

Mipsy is gonna die, honey.

Oh gosh, what a cute idea.

Stupid but cute.

Okay, kid, let's go put down your turtles together.

Whoa, look out, Michelangelo. A cyberbully.

On fleek.

Hey, do you have any cranberry juice?

-Maybe in your secret woman stash? -Figure out your own mixer, Dad.

I have an important job keeping the entire world together, remember?

Aw, that's cute. I figured they would've fired you by now.

I mean, I got canned,

and genetically speaking, you're half as good as me, so…

Sometimes, the thought that we're related

keeps me up at night!

Classic Ridley rage issues.

You're definitely my girl!

Whoa, Leo's TikTok is deadass lit!

Jesus, they're still making these?

Yaass, Krang!

Reagan, pick up the phone.

That's right. I changed your ringtone when you were sleeping.

-Are you gonna get that? -Pick it up.

Pick it up.

Hey, Reagan, I think you dropped your smile.

Oh! What have I got here?

Oh God, it's not working.

Ever have those mornings where you start pulling at the mental thread

that your entire life could be different

if maybe you hadn't been raised by such an asshole?

Mmm.

No. My drive-to-work Jock Jams megamix keeps the bad thoughts far away.

Guess I'll just throw myself into whatever inane job we're doing next.

Probably something dumb like going to the moon.

Good news, team.

Today, you're going to the moon!

But didn't we fake the moon landing?

It is so hard to keep track of what's real and what's fake here.

-Hi, Sasquatch.

I can never find an inroad with that guy.

Haven't you watched the moon-landing orientation film?

Why did we even kidnap Ken Burns if no one's watched the movie?

In 1962, President Kennedy had a dream to reach the moon.

Mostly because he'd achieved every sexual experience on Earth

and wanted to see what space sex was like.

We choose to go to the moon not because it is easy

but because I am hard.

Ha ha. Nice.

But the lure of casual sex proved too much for the astronauts,

who created a free-love commune and refused to return home.

To avoid a national PR disaster,

the shadow government recruited crisis actors

to play the rogue astronauts.

Kubrick was hired to fake the return trip,

and the moon was privately declared a hostile nation.

The rogue colony still exists to this day.

I'm Ken Burns.

If you're watching, please, someone help me.

I've been trapped in here…

Blah, blah, blah, lots of sobbing. You get the gist.

We lost communication with Aldrin's Moontopia 30 years ago

until today's distress signal.

Ooh, a deep-space distress call.

Very sci-fi. I'm super invested.

They could be finally willing to surrender. Or it's a trap.

We'll need two volunteers.

Be warned, this is a near-suicide mission in space.

You may never see your families again.

-I'm in. -I repeat, you could die.

I'm already dead inside.

-Road trip!

If I say "slam the jam,"

will you let me live?

-Underwear, T-shirt, plasma rifle…

Plasma rifle.

Ah, I threw it in the trash for ya. It was based on bad science.

Dad, you can't just throw my inventions away.

I'm going to the moon, and I need this to shoot hippies.

Or myself if an alien mates with my face.

The moon? Worst dump I've ever been to.

Yeah, right. When did you go to the moon?

Your mother and I had a life before you came along,

with low-gravity sex tourism, when she used to be fun.

Ugh! This is why I'm going.

In space, no one can hear their dad talk about boning their mom.

While you're up there, find my sunglasses I left behind.

Ray-Bans, gray lenses.

I was wearing them during a threesome with your mom.

Do you hear me talking about the threesome, honey?

Threesome. Three…

She's gone.

T-minus three, two, one. Ignition.

Reagan, pick up the--

Oh God, I can't breathe.

Oh God, I can finally breathe.

What if the moon people capture and torture us?

Or worse, they mistake me for a god and ask me to lead their society.

That's too much pressure!

No way an outpost founded by Moon Manson is still around.

Fifty bucks says the SOS was triggered by a computer

telling us these idiots ran out of lube and died.

I'll show you whose rifle doesn't work, Dad.

-And I'll replant the American flag.

Brett, that's a flag of Rasta Garfield.

Damn it, CafePress.

You've hoodwinked me for the last time.

Wow, Earth looks so different from space.

Yeah, NASA spends a fortune photoshopping Atlantis out of photos.

The signal's getting stronger. Keep an eye out for beads and lava lamps.

-Stop right there…

…and welcome yourself to the moon.

-Just the man we came here to see.

Ah! Buzz Lightyear!

Close enough.

Buzz Aldrin, the first second man on the moon.

Welcome to our little Moontopia.

Yeah, we've seen the sex cult, Buzz, and we are not…

…impressed.

You're free to roam. Just stay away from the dark side.

That's where the moon Nazis are,

and they are political.

I wonder what they're gonna do with the fake Buzz.

Melvin Stupowitz?

Sorry, my friend, no one here by that name.

Though we are both made from stardust.

Cut the shtick, Stupowitz.

We're from Cognito.

Come on in.

What do you mean I'm canceled? I took every note.

Why don't I just punch another conspiracy theorist in the face?

Hey, hey, I could make Buzz more dynamic.

What if the character wore roller skates?

It's over, Melvin. The real Buzz is coming back,

and we can't have two Buzzes running around,

especially after three Tupacs got loose.

But I've been Buzz Aldrin for over 50 years.

I have grandkids.

I'll really miss deceiving.

This isn't a negotiation.

Tomorrow, you're gonna show up at Cognito,

get a new face, and, if you're lucky, maybe a new role.

I heard a spicy rumor

we're about to start casting for World War III.

Apparently, this time the Americans will be the bad guys.

Your Highness.

-Wow! -I don't understand.

Cognito told me this was some kind of sex cult.

Originally, yes.

But when my good friend Neil Armstrong

died in the great orgy avalanche,

bless his horny soul,

we decided to turn our sex-periments

into experiments.

-Hi, girls. -Hey, Buzz.

I've created cigarettes that cure cancer.

And our lack of gravity

damn near slows the aging process to a halt.

-Thanks for the Moontopia, Buzz. -Have a great after-moon.

Don't moon-tion it.

Oh, I should probably explain some of the lunar lingo up here.

See, what you do is you take a regular word and put "moon" in it,

kind of wherever.

Wow, such a rich culture.

Dagnabbit. That SOS we sent you

was for our energy grid.

Damn thing's on the fritz

since the moon Nazis attacked.

Have you tried shooting them? It works for Earth Nazis.

My God, is this a zero-point fusion generator?

Looks like they sent us just the right person to help.

Oh, thanks.

I'm not used to people noticing or appreciating my work

in any shape or form.

-Oh no!

Dad?! You fucking stowed away?

Okay, before you get all judgy, you weren't looking for my glasses,

so this is sorta your fault.

Even in space, I can't get any space from you!

-At least the locals are happy to see me.

Rand Ridley. I'd kick your ass,

but it looks like 30 years of gravity have done enough damage.

Wow. Congrats on making it through a whole sentence

without forcing a moon pun.

You two know each other?

How could I forget the guy who infected the whole colony with syphilis?

And how can I forget the guy who slept with my fucking wife?

-What? -Quit living in the past.

That was 30 years ago.

Thirty years?

I can't believe I'm still dealing with your bullshit, Rand.

You're almost as annoying as my weak bladder,

which some say is genetic.

Oh my God.

-Reagan, how… how old are you again? -Thirty, but who cares?

-Why do you even wanna-- -Just sayin' Buzz and your mom…

…trapped in the '60s.

Oh my God.

-Buzz Aldrin might be my dad?

Moon guards.

Hands off me, moon hippies.

Your bullshit rock orbits my planet.

I'm sorry about this, but your father is,

excuse my moon lingo,

a real shithead.

We're gonna have to restrain him. Any objections?

Ow!

This won't be the first time I've arrested my dad.

Just be glad he's wearing pants.

How could you not tell me that my real father is Buzz Aldrin?

-Because he's not. -It's been so obvious all along.

Your intelligence, your leadership skills,

your love of leaving footprints on things.

Oh, this is so stupid.

You want a dad who's cool and handsome and has perfect hair?

Yes. I could be related to a national hero,

instead of a guy whose biggest contribution

is the Wendy's bags I find behind the toilet.

So, are you gonna tell Buzz?

No, not yet. I will not have two deadbeat dads in my life.

-I need to make sure he's worth it first.

If he is, then my next move is obvious.

Fix the energy grid on his sex colony

so he has no choice but to love me like a daughter.

I would do the exact same thing.

Daddy issues, yeah!

Reagan, I'm damn happy you agreed to help.

Of course. I just have a few quick diagnostic questions

about the grid.

So, what is your fuel source and your relationship to alcohol?

I drink in moderation.

I sleep standing up while jogging, and you have to stay hydrated for that.

-Betty Crocker Christ!

-What is that monstrosity?

Moonworms. Where do you think craters come from?

NASA's covered them up for years,

just like the secret ninth planet Shmercury.

-Thanks for the heads-up, NASA.

I'm the second man on the moon, but I'll be the first to kick your ass.

Tuck your shoulder, Reagan.

Square your hips.

-Hey.

Incredible shooting, slugger. You're a natural.

You just wrestled a moonworm.

The only thing my dad wrestles with is the childproof cap on his Vicodin.

You remind me of myself but female and younger.

If only there was a word for that.

-Uh-huh.

-Oh, the Moon Day Fair!

How about a detour for some floating root beer floats?

Goddamn Aldrin.

When I get free, I'll kick his ass from here to Shmercury.

I'm not a wires expert, but don't we need those to get home?

Right now I need them to finish this DNA sequencer.

It'll prove to Reagan that I'm her dad once and for all.

Ah, an emotional mission. Love it.

Screw you. I-- Wait.

Aren't you gonna tell me that I'm a deadbeat asshole

who makes Alec Baldwin look reasonable?

Well, you're the genius, so…

…how many wires do you need?

Finally, some damn respect.

Hey, any dad of my friend is a dad of mine.

All right, let me out so we can raid the commune for parts.

Come on, it'll be fun. We can replant that flag.

Okay, but only if you tousle my hair approvingly.

I still never got that "attaboy" from J.R.

Deal.

This means war.

No, I got a better one.

This means war.

Sound colder.

World War III is gonna be with Antarctica

to get their precious walrus oil.

Ugh. Next.

I thought I told you to handle the Melvin problem!

-He's just running late. -He's not late. He's on late night!

So, Buzz, you said you had something special to share with us?

That's right, Jimmy. And please, call me Melvin.

I've just been playing Buzz Aldrin on behalf of the shadow government

for 50 years,

and now they wanna can me.

All the details are right here in this book I wrote

and the sequel, If I Didn'tNew Moon.

It gets a little steamy.

Son of a bitch.

That midlife crisis actor is gonna blow my standing with the Robes.

Do something!

Patch me through to sleeper agent 0816.

-Code word, scene break.

Okay, join us after the break when I will be…

-…recalling Melvin.

Fallon's a sleeper agent?

Why do you think Fallon laughs all the time?

The CIA broke his damn brain.

Fuck! We finally met our match,

and he's a 92-year-old man on roller skates.

Reagan, you are a gas.

Well, I sure hope I'm oxygen and not argon.

-Oh!

There. Buzz's DNA, ripe for the stealing.

Brett, I'm gonna need your specific talents

to root around in the garbage for it.

Anything for you, Moon Daddy.

Don't call me Moon Daddy.

Ha ha!

Hopefully, in 30 minutes, Reagan's fake-daddy fantasy

will blow up faster than Apollo 1.

Forgive the expression, Buzz, but you're so down-to-earth.

Rand has never asked for my help with anything.

Reagan, don't get stuck in his orbit.

You can do amazing things on your own.

-Done.

Your energy is back online.

Bravo, Reagan.

I'm proud of you.

Thanks, Dad.

DNA results in 20 minutes.

Ah! Stupid thing. Go faster.

There it is! The flagpole.

All right, make it quick.

Night is when the moonworms feast.

This is gonna kill on Snapchat.

Rand, today has been fulfilling

in ways I didn't think possible,

and I was wondering if adult adoption is--

-Wait, what the hell?

-Neil Armstrong?

Buzz said he died of a sex injury.

Oh my God!

Neil Armstrong may be a thief,

but Buzz Aldrin is a murderer.

Where's Reagan?

I have had such a great time with you today, Buzz,

and there's something I've been meaning to share.

I have something I wanna share too.

This is phase two,

expanding our city to the whole moon.

Wow, free moon-iversity?

Moon-iversal healthcare?

A living moon-imum wage?

Fuck, we are fucking up on Earth.

But I can't make it happen alone.

Are you saying you want me to stay up here forever?

Do they really appreciate you back on Earth, Reagan?

-Does your crew respect you?

Boo!

Does your family?

This could be your destiny.

Okay. What the hell.

-Really? -Hell yeah.

Earth is overrated. They're about to nuke Antarctica anyway.

-For the walrus oil, I assume? -Very valuable oil.

Buzz, I have something to tell you.

-Listen, Buzz, I… I really…

I don't know how to tell you this,

but I think that I might be your…

-Ah! What the fuck?! -You were gonna say moon-slut, right?

Wait, what? Why would I call myself a moon-slut?!

We went over this. You take a word, and you add "moon" in front of it?

It's like a regular slut but on the moon.

I know what a moon-slut is!

I have been trying to tell you that I think I'm your daughter,

you psycho!

But that's, uh…

Wow.

I hope this won't get in the way of the deorbiting.

The de-what now?

-What the shit?

-Did you just move the moon? -Negatory.

You did, thanks to those nifty fuel cells you installed for me.

Ah, shit.

For too long, the moon has been in the Earth's shadow.

It's time to reveal our superior society to the world

by finally breaking the hell out of Earth's orbit.

No moon? There will be no tide.

Half the globe will be flooded.

What will wolves howl at?

Who cares?

You're a fucking psycho.

That's what Neil said.

You may need a time-out.

Moon guards, get her!

Stand down, Melvin.

How did you find me?

It's all in your book. You ever hear of editing?

I called it a tell-all, and I meant it. I'd rather die as a fake hero

than live washed-up.

Sweet Michael Bay,

we're all getting washed-up!

-Huh?

-Buzz Aldrin is evil!

Wait, you agree with me?

He's trying to pull the moon out of Earth's orbit.

And he's villainously horny.

-She knows our plans!

Don't let her get away!

In 15 minutes, we'll know who the real father is.

In 15 minutes, the gravitational disturbance

will be enough to drown every continent.

We need to shut down the grid.

That sounds, um, time-sensitive. Can you guys pimp this thing out?

-Fine.

All I wanted was a couple of days away from you.

Yeah, and look what happened. You get duped by a con artist

and almost destroy the Earth to win his approval.

-Hand me-- -Flush cutters?

Oh, I can't imagine why I chased a fantasy of a supportive father.

-I need the-- -Spanner wrench. Unsupportive?

I built an entire DNA tester out of garbage

just to prove you're my daughter.

A nice gesture

if I didn't know it was more about being right than being my father.

-Can't it be both?

Brett, fend them off for as long as you can.

DNA results in two minutes.

Here we go.

Get them!

Oh God. Sorry. Sorry, I don't know how I did that.

Less force on the moon means their muscles atrophied.

-You've got-- -Earth strength!

Wax on, wane off.

See you crater.

Welcome to Earth… on the moon.

Shit.

Can anyone capture this historic moment?

All done over here.

You know, it's a shame to undo all the great work you've done here.

The reason I'm always hard on your inventions is to push you

to be better than I was.

-I maybe should have told you that sooner.

The truth is I'm a sad asshole

who blew his career and his shot at fatherhood,

and you deserve better.

-No traitor could be a daughter of mine.

Buzz, you are the father.

-Whoa, it's actually true?

Ha ha! Suck my Earth ass, Buzz.

Wait, why is everyone looking so crestfallen?

-No, it can't be true.

Whether you're my dad or not, we are taking you back to Earth.

I left Earth to beat a paternity test.

-Not getting suckered in again!

There's plenty of moons out there to conquer,

and this time I'll be first.

Screw you, asshole.

He tried to kill us. Don't salute him.

He's still Buzz Aldrin.

Just think, how many people have walked on the moon?

All of us.

A device that can control the moon.

Gotta make sure this doesn't fall into the wrong hands.

Earth warriors,

you freed us from the tyranny of the Moon King.

We'll take it from here.

Have fun. Don't invent Facebook.

Melvin, it's time to let go of the spotlight.

It was never about the spotlight for me.

It was an honor just to play a part.

Oh, just drop me off in midtown.

There's a cattle call for an adult-diaper commercial.

Gigi, change of plans. We need Melvin back.

-I hear you loud and clear.

We got renewed!

-My goodness, this is great! -Hollywood happy ending!

The moon landing was fake.

I am back, folks.

Sweet. Free space dog.

Look, this whole thing with Buzz, it doesn't matter.

You're the reason why I am who I am.

I'll always think of you as a daughter.

I just hope, in time,

you could still be a compatible organ donor.

-Hey, this has the wrong microchip. -What the hell, dill-hole?

I told you to pull out the left microchip.

Isn't the moon like Australia?

Like, everything's upside down, so left would be right here.

Damn it, Brett!

Rand, you are the father.

-What? -I knew it.

You got half your mother's genes and half blessed with mine.

Actually, I tweaked your DNA in the womb, so it's more like 60/40.

Didn't want you getting too much of her judginess.

Jesus, Dad, not okay.

Well, obviously, it didn't work.

Come on.

Let's just enjoy the ride home, huh?

-Road trip!

-Hi there. I'm Magic Myc.

If you're enjoying this at home, we've had some fun tonight,

but the truth is, the moon landing was real.

So on behalf of Inside Job, let me just say…

Don't sue us, Buzz Aldrin.