American Dad! (2005–…): Season 12, Episode 21 - The Talented Mr. Dingleberry - full transcript
Roger becomes a marionette and injures other students to help Steve win the school talent show.
¶¶
Any escape artist
worth his salt
will have a bobby pin
somewhere on his person
at all times.
(grunting)
(groans)
LEWIS: Next!
And what's your talent,
son?
I can translate
any Morse-code transmission
from anywhere...
in the world.
Prepare to be amazed.
(machine clicks)
(static)
At the moment,
no one is sending any messages.
Get off my stage!
(grunts)
(siren wails)
(grunts) I did not become
a high-school principal
to put on an unentertaining
talent show!
That means no crappy acts
and strict enforcement
of my famous
one-slot-per-talent policy
to ensure some
mother(bleep) variety!
One singer, one tumbler,
one Annie Oakley-style
trick-shootin' cowgirl...
(gun clicks)
...and one hot-dog
speed-eater!
The fat one.
(grunts) Hut!
(tray clatters)
That singing slot is yours,
buddy.
A.J. Slick
doesn't stand a chance.
A.J.:
My ears are burning.
And that usually
only happens
when I hear
Steve's singing.
Hey, A.J.
Please...
Call me A.J. Slick.
I just wanted to say
"good luck."
How about a little lemonade
to lube the old larynx?
Wow, now --
now that's sportsmanship.
Heh. Thanks, A.J.
(coughing)
Oh, did I say lemonade?
I meant Lemon Pledge.
You've been Slick'd!
LEWIS: Steve Smith?
("Grease (Is the Word)" plays)
(hoarsely) ¶ They think our love
is just a growing pain ¶
LEWIS:
Off my stage!
(siren wails)
(patriotic music plays)
¶ Good morning, U.S.A. ¶
¶ I got a feelin' that
it's gonna be a wonderful day ¶
¶ The sun in the sky
has a smile on his face ¶
¶ And he's shinin' a salute
to the American race ¶
¶ Oh, boy, it's swell to say ¶
¶ Good -- ¶
¶ Good morning, U.S.A. ¶
Aah!
¶ Good morning, U.S.A. ¶
¶¶
I was heavily penalized
for withdrawing funds
from my 401(k) early,
but it was all worth it
to get my hands
on this baby.
The world's
last Milkybar Choo.
FRANCINE: Ah-choo!
(blows nose)
Sorry, Klaus.
My allergies have just
been kicking my ass,
and nothing seems to help.
You know what's great
for hay fever?
Locally produced honey.
Local honey, huh?
Let me just run it
by my allergist.
We don't need that
money-grubbing allergist
horning in on the profits
from our nnn...
ALL:
New local honey business!
(door opens)
(mumbling)
Stupid talent show.
Stupid singing. A.J.
What's wrong, son?
(normal voice) Everybody
acts like the talent show
is such a big deal --
And right they are.
No one ever forgets
the winner of their
high-school talent show.
Ours was Scott Kaminetzky.
He could juggle so much.
Now, back to our thing.
ALL: Lo-cal! Hon-ey!
Lo-cal! Hon-ey!
Stupid A.J. Slick.
Cheating me
out of my slot.
ROGER (whispering):
Hey. Hey.
Up here.
Want to get back at A.J.
and win that talent show?
I can help.
What -- what are you
doing in there?
I'm trapped.
I dropped a Skittle
down a vent,
and I went in after it.
I've been in here for days.
Get a Phillips-head
screwdriver
and meet me by the vent
in Hayley's bathroom.
Oh. Oh, there --
uhp, there's the Skittle.
Went down this slightly
narrower passageway here.
(metal scraping)
Shit.
¶¶
You came to the right guy,
Steve.
(clangs)
(inhales deeply, exhales)
I love a good quest
for revenge.
I'm not out for revenge,
Roger.
I am a proud,
life-long good boy.
Deny it all you want,
but deep down,
you want to get back at A.J.,
and you want to
win that show.
I admit,
it'd be nice to see A.J.
get what he deserves.
But singing was my talent.
Wha-- what else can I do?
One word -- ventriloquy.
Ventriloquism?
Puppet-talkin'.
One word.
In the '70's,
I was half of the most popular
ventril-agrgah act
in the world.
I was the puppet.
I was kicked off "Match Game"
for saying the word "queef"
on air.
But that's neither
here nor there.
Point is, just like you,
my partner Dennis
didn't know the first thing
about ventril-gahvel.
But it didn't matter
because I do all the work.
Hmm.
Almost sounds
too good to be true.
That's the spirit!
But...there is one thing
I'm going to need from you.
Total commitment.
Deal.
Good.
Because this is perhaps
my most challenging character,
both physically
and mentally.
Even more than my
mentally challenged
bodybuilder character,
Arnold Schwarzenegger.
First,
I have to apply several layers
of this pungent lacquer
face paint
to really make it look like
I'm made out of wood.
Which is important,
because almost
all of my material
is wood-based puns.
(sniffs) Ugh!
It smells worse than
Principal Lewis's index finger.
Then... (grunts)
...painful prosthetics
to give me fully-flappable
eyebrows and ears.
And finally, I inject just
a scosche of paralyzing agent
into my arms and legs.
Wow! You move
just like a dummy!
(thwack!)
Now, Steve, why do you think
I slapped you?
It's because you used
a certain word.
Do you know
what that word is?
Is it...
(thwack!)
That's right!
Never, ever
call me a dummy.
The word "dummy"
is degrading.
I am a manually-articulated
performative kinesio-maquette...
named Dudley Dingleberry.
¶¶
Gee, Dudley, I sure hope
you remember all your lines.
Well, knock on wood.
(knock! knock!)
Talk about a blockhead,
am I right?
(laughter)
Hey, ladies.
You ever seen a woodpecker?
Want to see mine?
(zipper unzips)
(grunting)
Gah! Damn it!
(laughter)
This is why we should've
rehearsed with the bird.
(laughing)
That orphan kid
with the therapy puppet
might as well head on
back to his group home
because the ventriloquy slot
is yours!
Wow! It worked.
Everyone really thinks
you're a du--
A what, Steve?
Du-- Dudley.
I was gonna say Dudley.
They all think
I'm a Dudley.
That's what
you were gonna say?
Finalists, gather up.
In five days,
one of you will be crowned
talent-show champion,
and -- wait.
Where's the roly-poly
Miss Carla Cannoli,
my star tumbler?
The brakes on Carla's bike
somehow gave out!
And she crashed
right into the flagpole!
(dramatic music plays)
(all gasping)
Sounds like she...
took a tumble.
(laughter)
That kind of humor's
not exactly to my taste,
but I think we got a good shot
at winning this thing.
Yes.
We're gonna kill
the competition.
(soft horror music plays)
(gagging)
(coughs)
(breathing shallowly)
Oh. Oh, God.
(thunder rumbles)
(laughter)
My last girlfriend
was Russian.
Yeah, she was
a Russian nesting doll.
(laughter)
(giggles) Oh, Steve.
I've never seen
this side of you.
(exhales affectionately)
Bang, bang.
Easy there, toots,
or I won't be the only wood
in Steve's lap.
(laughter)
A.J.:
You and that stupid doll.
More like Ugly Dingleberry.
We all know I'm still
by far the favorite to win.
You are now,
and always will be, a loser.
Hey, A.J.
(bleep) you.
(laughter)
ALL:
Steve! Steve! Steve! Steve!
(thunder rumbles)
¶ Do, re, mi ¶
¶ Fa, sol, la, ti ¶
¶ Do ¶
(chuckling in distance)
(chuckling continues)
Hello?
Is anybody there?
(thunder crashes)
Oh, it's just that
stupid doll.
Well,
back to bench pressing.
(thunder crashes)
Huh.
Wind must've blown it.
Must be a draft in here
or something.
Stupid doll.
Again, so ugly.
(thunder crashes)
What's this smelly
old thing
doing up here anyway?
You and Steve think you can
take on the Slickster?
Ha! You're just
a stupid, old doll.
You couldn't stop me
if I slapped you
right in the face.
(thwack!)
What are you gonna
do about it, doll?
How about I poke you
right in the eye, huh?
(plop!)
Or put my fist
in your mouth?
Or make you eat garbage?
How about that?
Nom! Nom! Nom!
Nom! Nom!
More slaps!
(thwack! thwack!)
Enough of this!
I need to hydrate.
(thunder crashes)
ROGER: (chuckles)
(door slams)
(thunder crashes)
(thunder rumbles)
Oh, my God!
Wh-- what happened?
Freak accident.
A barbell
crushed A.J.'s larynx --
the exact body part
that all but guaranteed him
to beat you
in the talent show.
Can you believe it --
the coincidence?
Anyway,
the reason I called you
is because we found your puppet
lying on the floor in here.
You ought to keep
better track of this guy, Smith.
Hey, where do you put your hand
in this thing anywa--
Oh, never mind.
I found it.
Please tell me
you didn't have
anything to do
with A.J.'s accident.
Let's just say
that as far as us
winning
the talent show goes,
the bar was just lowered.
That, uh --
that's not
the most convincing denial.
Hey, check it out.
It's the kid
from the auditions.
Dude, you're so funny.
What's your name?
Don't worry about it,
Tyler.
If he wins the talent show,
everyone will know his name.
And if he loses,
it'll be like
he never existed.
Great point, Marcus.
(zippers unzip)
¶¶
They're here.
We're on our way to our
first batch of local honey.
Now we just need
a slogan.
How about...
(Spanish accent)
..."don't you know we're local?"
Done.
(normal voice)
They're all dead.
E-- except for...
(sighs)
...what looks like
some wasps?
Did you put wasps
in with the bees?
Did I put some jocks in
with the nerds?
Hell, yeah, I did.
Our honey's
gonna have some balls.
Wasps don't make honey.
And all our bees
are dead.
All great businesses
pivot.
Burger King was
a topless maid service
for decades.
Ow!
A wasp just stung me.
You're having
an allergic reaction.
We should get you
to the hospital.
Whoa, whoa, whoa,
whoa, whoa.
I say we give this
another shot here
and double down
on home remedies.
No way. Mom?
(strained)
He does seem to know
a lot about Burger King.
(thunder crashes)
¶¶
Well, the Middle East
ain't gettin' any better.
ROGER:
(menacing laugh)
Hello?
(menacing laugh)
¶¶
Is someone there?
Help!
Somebody! Help!!
Aaaaaaaaahhhhh!
Oh, my God! Barry!
My hot-dog speed-eater!
Give this boy a wiener!
Stat!
Oh, no.
(weakly) I'm full.
That is not a talent.
Damn it!
(thud!)
(thunder rumbles)
I turned a blind eye
to these accidents,
but no more!
Barry's my friend!
Seriously, Roger,
drop the stupid puppet act.
Roger?
Oh, my God.
It's like he's lost
in some sort of trance.
Maybe something in here
can tell me
what the hell's
going on with him.
¶¶
Wow. I really should've
looked further into this book
before I started
this whole thing.
¶¶
Oh, good.
¶¶
(mumbling)
E-e-e-excuse me, sir?
Could -- Could I ask you
a few questions?
Y-y-you see, I-I've --
well, I-I've been working
with Dudley Dingleberry.
(gasps)
Dudley Dingleberry?
You fool!
You have no idea
the evil forces you tamper with!
The year was 1976.
Dudley and I
were on "Hollywood Squares,"
and he started killing
all the other celebrities,
just so we could sit
center square.
Teaming up with Dudley
was my first mistake.
My second was having
my other puppet, Mr. Doodles,
represent me
at my murder trial.
So how do I stop him?
Stop him?!
There's no stopping him!
You think he's the puppet?
You're the puppet!
He's controlling you!
Did I blow your mind?
Just talking about him
brings it all back --
that horrible, mincing voice,
that awful smell.
The smell?
(gasps) The smell!
Thanks, you old creep!
(thunder crashes)
"Industrial airplane paint.
Inhalation may cause
temporary psychosis!
Ages 6 and up."
I knew it!
All right, buddy.
All I have to do
is get that makeup off you,
and everything
will go back to normal.
We'll have to forfeit
the talent show,
but it's a small price
to --
He-- Hello?
(shouts)
(screams)
(high-pitched screaming)
(menacing laughter)
Aah!
The show must go on.
A-Am I early
for book club?
No, you're late!
And that's
two weeks in a row!
You're out!
I didn't read it anyway.
¶¶
STEVE: Wh-wh-- where am I?
I-I-- I can't move.
Or talk.
I'm paralyzed.
¶ And when I wake up,
I put on my makeup ¶
¶ And kill a little bit
for you ¶
No. This can't be real.
This can't be real!
Oh, it's real all right.
I can't hear your thoughts.
I'm just assuming
you're all like,
"This can't be real!
No!"
You wanted
to get back at A.J.
You wanted to win
the talent show.
Don't you see?
Dudley Dingleberry
was inside you --
(knock on door)
LEWIS:
Five minutes, Smith!
(badly imitating Steve) Uh...
okie-dokie, Principal Loomis!
LEWIS:
That's you all right!
(normal voice) Show time.
(weakly)
You...can't...do...this.
You're ruining the trick,
Steve.
I can see
your lips move.
(applause)
Good evening,
ladies and gents!
Our should I say
"wood evening"?
(laughter)
He's so good
he's doing the act
with his mouth taped shut!
I'm absolutely
losing my mind here!
So, I just heard
my grandpa died...
of Dutch elm disease!
(laughter)
¶¶
Chip on my shoulder?
That is my shoulder!
(laughter)
I've been told I can be
a real son of a birch.
(laughter)
Look at this audience.
My God.
I never realized
I was so poplar. (popular)
Poplar is a kind of tree.
(laughter)
Teak, oak, balsa,
mahogany!
This is what I live for!
(laughs)
STEVE: Oh, my God.
I'm...winning.
No.
I have to stop Roger.
But how?
(laughter)
That's it!
(laughter)
¶¶
(gasps)
I'm in love with you too,
Steve!
I've always loved you!
Oh, yeah.
I don't know Morse code.
That's our show!
Wood night!
(cheers and applause)
(chuckles) "Mahogany."
Uh, Dad?
I'm a little worried
about Mom.
She's fine.
Just swab her with
a little more of
our patented,
homemade poultice.
Available in the lobby!
(monstrous,
plaintive moaning)
That's it. Really let
those onion skins go to work.
Congratulations, Steve.
Despite all your efforts
to remain a loser,
I made you a winner.
Oh, crap.
All tuckered out, huh?
Well, wish me luck.
(ominous music plays)
(door locks)
Did you see that tank?
Looks like Snot's
bringing his "A" game.
I hadn't really
considered him a threat,
which is why he's one of
the only other contestants left.
Well, not to worry.
An escape act
loses its impact...
if you can't escape.
(strained) Roger, no!
Hmm.
Looks like the paralyzing agent
is starting to wear off.
I think I better make sure
you stay put.
Just...
...in case.
There.
I had to pause for a full minute
in the middle of my sentence,
but it was worth it.
Now to kill Snot!
Aah! Aah!
And now
The Great Shmuel-dini
shall attempt an escape
from a watery death!
(applause)
(inhales deeply)
(dramatic music plays)
SNOT: Any escape artist
worth his salt
will have a bobby pin
somewhere on his person
at all times.
Lucky for me, I always wear
a bobby pin in my hair
to keep my gorgeous bangs
out of my eyes.
(groans)
(blows)
(dramatic music playing)
Good old broomstick.
Mwah!
¶¶
(latch rattles)
¶¶
(muffled shout)
(audience gasps)
Now remember, folks,
his intention is to live.
So if he drowns,
he loses the talent show.
¶¶
(laughing evilly)
(gurgling)
(audience gasps)
It's too late, Steve!
You can't save Snot with those
gimpy legs of yours,
so you might as well just
sit back and enjoy the show.
¶¶
I've got to break
that glass.
¶¶
Hey! Dingleberry!
Yes?
I may be paralyzed
right now,
but you'll always be...
a dummy!
Say that one more time.
I --
(gunshot)
(slow-motion scream)
(inhales sharply)
(audience gasps)
(shuddering weakly)
What?
How did I get here?
Oh my, God,
Somebody shot Steve!
Oh, my God!
I shot Steve!
(screams)
Oh, no way. Gross.
Okay, come on.
(groans)
¶¶
Oh, yeah.
Now I remember.
That's why I don't
do this character anymore.
That makeup
makes me crazy.
Really should've just flipped
a few more pages
into the old scrapbook.
And I learned --
Now to make sure
this makeup
never causes anybody harm
ever again!
(door opens)
(door closes)
(dramatic music plays)
Buh-bye! See you soon!
-- Captions by VITAC --
Any escape artist
worth his salt
will have a bobby pin
somewhere on his person
at all times.
(grunting)
(groans)
LEWIS: Next!
And what's your talent,
son?
I can translate
any Morse-code transmission
from anywhere...
in the world.
Prepare to be amazed.
(machine clicks)
(static)
At the moment,
no one is sending any messages.
Get off my stage!
(grunts)
(siren wails)
(grunts) I did not become
a high-school principal
to put on an unentertaining
talent show!
That means no crappy acts
and strict enforcement
of my famous
one-slot-per-talent policy
to ensure some
mother(bleep) variety!
One singer, one tumbler,
one Annie Oakley-style
trick-shootin' cowgirl...
(gun clicks)
...and one hot-dog
speed-eater!
The fat one.
(grunts) Hut!
(tray clatters)
That singing slot is yours,
buddy.
A.J. Slick
doesn't stand a chance.
A.J.:
My ears are burning.
And that usually
only happens
when I hear
Steve's singing.
Hey, A.J.
Please...
Call me A.J. Slick.
I just wanted to say
"good luck."
How about a little lemonade
to lube the old larynx?
Wow, now --
now that's sportsmanship.
Heh. Thanks, A.J.
(coughing)
Oh, did I say lemonade?
I meant Lemon Pledge.
You've been Slick'd!
LEWIS: Steve Smith?
("Grease (Is the Word)" plays)
(hoarsely) ¶ They think our love
is just a growing pain ¶
LEWIS:
Off my stage!
(siren wails)
(patriotic music plays)
¶ Good morning, U.S.A. ¶
¶ I got a feelin' that
it's gonna be a wonderful day ¶
¶ The sun in the sky
has a smile on his face ¶
¶ And he's shinin' a salute
to the American race ¶
¶ Oh, boy, it's swell to say ¶
¶ Good -- ¶
¶ Good morning, U.S.A. ¶
Aah!
¶ Good morning, U.S.A. ¶
¶¶
I was heavily penalized
for withdrawing funds
from my 401(k) early,
but it was all worth it
to get my hands
on this baby.
The world's
last Milkybar Choo.
FRANCINE: Ah-choo!
(blows nose)
Sorry, Klaus.
My allergies have just
been kicking my ass,
and nothing seems to help.
You know what's great
for hay fever?
Locally produced honey.
Local honey, huh?
Let me just run it
by my allergist.
We don't need that
money-grubbing allergist
horning in on the profits
from our nnn...
ALL:
New local honey business!
(door opens)
(mumbling)
Stupid talent show.
Stupid singing. A.J.
What's wrong, son?
(normal voice) Everybody
acts like the talent show
is such a big deal --
And right they are.
No one ever forgets
the winner of their
high-school talent show.
Ours was Scott Kaminetzky.
He could juggle so much.
Now, back to our thing.
ALL: Lo-cal! Hon-ey!
Lo-cal! Hon-ey!
Stupid A.J. Slick.
Cheating me
out of my slot.
ROGER (whispering):
Hey. Hey.
Up here.
Want to get back at A.J.
and win that talent show?
I can help.
What -- what are you
doing in there?
I'm trapped.
I dropped a Skittle
down a vent,
and I went in after it.
I've been in here for days.
Get a Phillips-head
screwdriver
and meet me by the vent
in Hayley's bathroom.
Oh. Oh, there --
uhp, there's the Skittle.
Went down this slightly
narrower passageway here.
(metal scraping)
Shit.
¶¶
You came to the right guy,
Steve.
(clangs)
(inhales deeply, exhales)
I love a good quest
for revenge.
I'm not out for revenge,
Roger.
I am a proud,
life-long good boy.
Deny it all you want,
but deep down,
you want to get back at A.J.,
and you want to
win that show.
I admit,
it'd be nice to see A.J.
get what he deserves.
But singing was my talent.
Wha-- what else can I do?
One word -- ventriloquy.
Ventriloquism?
Puppet-talkin'.
One word.
In the '70's,
I was half of the most popular
ventril-agrgah act
in the world.
I was the puppet.
I was kicked off "Match Game"
for saying the word "queef"
on air.
But that's neither
here nor there.
Point is, just like you,
my partner Dennis
didn't know the first thing
about ventril-gahvel.
But it didn't matter
because I do all the work.
Hmm.
Almost sounds
too good to be true.
That's the spirit!
But...there is one thing
I'm going to need from you.
Total commitment.
Deal.
Good.
Because this is perhaps
my most challenging character,
both physically
and mentally.
Even more than my
mentally challenged
bodybuilder character,
Arnold Schwarzenegger.
First,
I have to apply several layers
of this pungent lacquer
face paint
to really make it look like
I'm made out of wood.
Which is important,
because almost
all of my material
is wood-based puns.
(sniffs) Ugh!
It smells worse than
Principal Lewis's index finger.
Then... (grunts)
...painful prosthetics
to give me fully-flappable
eyebrows and ears.
And finally, I inject just
a scosche of paralyzing agent
into my arms and legs.
Wow! You move
just like a dummy!
(thwack!)
Now, Steve, why do you think
I slapped you?
It's because you used
a certain word.
Do you know
what that word is?
Is it...
(thwack!)
That's right!
Never, ever
call me a dummy.
The word "dummy"
is degrading.
I am a manually-articulated
performative kinesio-maquette...
named Dudley Dingleberry.
¶¶
Gee, Dudley, I sure hope
you remember all your lines.
Well, knock on wood.
(knock! knock!)
Talk about a blockhead,
am I right?
(laughter)
Hey, ladies.
You ever seen a woodpecker?
Want to see mine?
(zipper unzips)
(grunting)
Gah! Damn it!
(laughter)
This is why we should've
rehearsed with the bird.
(laughing)
That orphan kid
with the therapy puppet
might as well head on
back to his group home
because the ventriloquy slot
is yours!
Wow! It worked.
Everyone really thinks
you're a du--
A what, Steve?
Du-- Dudley.
I was gonna say Dudley.
They all think
I'm a Dudley.
That's what
you were gonna say?
Finalists, gather up.
In five days,
one of you will be crowned
talent-show champion,
and -- wait.
Where's the roly-poly
Miss Carla Cannoli,
my star tumbler?
The brakes on Carla's bike
somehow gave out!
And she crashed
right into the flagpole!
(dramatic music plays)
(all gasping)
Sounds like she...
took a tumble.
(laughter)
That kind of humor's
not exactly to my taste,
but I think we got a good shot
at winning this thing.
Yes.
We're gonna kill
the competition.
(soft horror music plays)
(gagging)
(coughs)
(breathing shallowly)
Oh. Oh, God.
(thunder rumbles)
(laughter)
My last girlfriend
was Russian.
Yeah, she was
a Russian nesting doll.
(laughter)
(giggles) Oh, Steve.
I've never seen
this side of you.
(exhales affectionately)
Bang, bang.
Easy there, toots,
or I won't be the only wood
in Steve's lap.
(laughter)
A.J.:
You and that stupid doll.
More like Ugly Dingleberry.
We all know I'm still
by far the favorite to win.
You are now,
and always will be, a loser.
Hey, A.J.
(bleep) you.
(laughter)
ALL:
Steve! Steve! Steve! Steve!
(thunder rumbles)
¶ Do, re, mi ¶
¶ Fa, sol, la, ti ¶
¶ Do ¶
(chuckling in distance)
(chuckling continues)
Hello?
Is anybody there?
(thunder crashes)
Oh, it's just that
stupid doll.
Well,
back to bench pressing.
(thunder crashes)
Huh.
Wind must've blown it.
Must be a draft in here
or something.
Stupid doll.
Again, so ugly.
(thunder crashes)
What's this smelly
old thing
doing up here anyway?
You and Steve think you can
take on the Slickster?
Ha! You're just
a stupid, old doll.
You couldn't stop me
if I slapped you
right in the face.
(thwack!)
What are you gonna
do about it, doll?
How about I poke you
right in the eye, huh?
(plop!)
Or put my fist
in your mouth?
Or make you eat garbage?
How about that?
Nom! Nom! Nom!
Nom! Nom!
More slaps!
(thwack! thwack!)
Enough of this!
I need to hydrate.
(thunder crashes)
ROGER: (chuckles)
(door slams)
(thunder crashes)
(thunder rumbles)
Oh, my God!
Wh-- what happened?
Freak accident.
A barbell
crushed A.J.'s larynx --
the exact body part
that all but guaranteed him
to beat you
in the talent show.
Can you believe it --
the coincidence?
Anyway,
the reason I called you
is because we found your puppet
lying on the floor in here.
You ought to keep
better track of this guy, Smith.
Hey, where do you put your hand
in this thing anywa--
Oh, never mind.
I found it.
Please tell me
you didn't have
anything to do
with A.J.'s accident.
Let's just say
that as far as us
winning
the talent show goes,
the bar was just lowered.
That, uh --
that's not
the most convincing denial.
Hey, check it out.
It's the kid
from the auditions.
Dude, you're so funny.
What's your name?
Don't worry about it,
Tyler.
If he wins the talent show,
everyone will know his name.
And if he loses,
it'll be like
he never existed.
Great point, Marcus.
(zippers unzip)
¶¶
They're here.
We're on our way to our
first batch of local honey.
Now we just need
a slogan.
How about...
(Spanish accent)
..."don't you know we're local?"
Done.
(normal voice)
They're all dead.
E-- except for...
(sighs)
...what looks like
some wasps?
Did you put wasps
in with the bees?
Did I put some jocks in
with the nerds?
Hell, yeah, I did.
Our honey's
gonna have some balls.
Wasps don't make honey.
And all our bees
are dead.
All great businesses
pivot.
Burger King was
a topless maid service
for decades.
Ow!
A wasp just stung me.
You're having
an allergic reaction.
We should get you
to the hospital.
Whoa, whoa, whoa,
whoa, whoa.
I say we give this
another shot here
and double down
on home remedies.
No way. Mom?
(strained)
He does seem to know
a lot about Burger King.
(thunder crashes)
¶¶
Well, the Middle East
ain't gettin' any better.
ROGER:
(menacing laugh)
Hello?
(menacing laugh)
¶¶
Is someone there?
Help!
Somebody! Help!!
Aaaaaaaaahhhhh!
Oh, my God! Barry!
My hot-dog speed-eater!
Give this boy a wiener!
Stat!
Oh, no.
(weakly) I'm full.
That is not a talent.
Damn it!
(thud!)
(thunder rumbles)
I turned a blind eye
to these accidents,
but no more!
Barry's my friend!
Seriously, Roger,
drop the stupid puppet act.
Roger?
Oh, my God.
It's like he's lost
in some sort of trance.
Maybe something in here
can tell me
what the hell's
going on with him.
¶¶
Wow. I really should've
looked further into this book
before I started
this whole thing.
¶¶
Oh, good.
¶¶
(mumbling)
E-e-e-excuse me, sir?
Could -- Could I ask you
a few questions?
Y-y-you see, I-I've --
well, I-I've been working
with Dudley Dingleberry.
(gasps)
Dudley Dingleberry?
You fool!
You have no idea
the evil forces you tamper with!
The year was 1976.
Dudley and I
were on "Hollywood Squares,"
and he started killing
all the other celebrities,
just so we could sit
center square.
Teaming up with Dudley
was my first mistake.
My second was having
my other puppet, Mr. Doodles,
represent me
at my murder trial.
So how do I stop him?
Stop him?!
There's no stopping him!
You think he's the puppet?
You're the puppet!
He's controlling you!
Did I blow your mind?
Just talking about him
brings it all back --
that horrible, mincing voice,
that awful smell.
The smell?
(gasps) The smell!
Thanks, you old creep!
(thunder crashes)
"Industrial airplane paint.
Inhalation may cause
temporary psychosis!
Ages 6 and up."
I knew it!
All right, buddy.
All I have to do
is get that makeup off you,
and everything
will go back to normal.
We'll have to forfeit
the talent show,
but it's a small price
to --
He-- Hello?
(shouts)
(screams)
(high-pitched screaming)
(menacing laughter)
Aah!
The show must go on.
A-Am I early
for book club?
No, you're late!
And that's
two weeks in a row!
You're out!
I didn't read it anyway.
¶¶
STEVE: Wh-wh-- where am I?
I-I-- I can't move.
Or talk.
I'm paralyzed.
¶ And when I wake up,
I put on my makeup ¶
¶ And kill a little bit
for you ¶
No. This can't be real.
This can't be real!
Oh, it's real all right.
I can't hear your thoughts.
I'm just assuming
you're all like,
"This can't be real!
No!"
You wanted
to get back at A.J.
You wanted to win
the talent show.
Don't you see?
Dudley Dingleberry
was inside you --
(knock on door)
LEWIS:
Five minutes, Smith!
(badly imitating Steve) Uh...
okie-dokie, Principal Loomis!
LEWIS:
That's you all right!
(normal voice) Show time.
(weakly)
You...can't...do...this.
You're ruining the trick,
Steve.
I can see
your lips move.
(applause)
Good evening,
ladies and gents!
Our should I say
"wood evening"?
(laughter)
He's so good
he's doing the act
with his mouth taped shut!
I'm absolutely
losing my mind here!
So, I just heard
my grandpa died...
of Dutch elm disease!
(laughter)
¶¶
Chip on my shoulder?
That is my shoulder!
(laughter)
I've been told I can be
a real son of a birch.
(laughter)
Look at this audience.
My God.
I never realized
I was so poplar. (popular)
Poplar is a kind of tree.
(laughter)
Teak, oak, balsa,
mahogany!
This is what I live for!
(laughs)
STEVE: Oh, my God.
I'm...winning.
No.
I have to stop Roger.
But how?
(laughter)
That's it!
(laughter)
¶¶
(gasps)
I'm in love with you too,
Steve!
I've always loved you!
Oh, yeah.
I don't know Morse code.
That's our show!
Wood night!
(cheers and applause)
(chuckles) "Mahogany."
Uh, Dad?
I'm a little worried
about Mom.
She's fine.
Just swab her with
a little more of
our patented,
homemade poultice.
Available in the lobby!
(monstrous,
plaintive moaning)
That's it. Really let
those onion skins go to work.
Congratulations, Steve.
Despite all your efforts
to remain a loser,
I made you a winner.
Oh, crap.
All tuckered out, huh?
Well, wish me luck.
(ominous music plays)
(door locks)
Did you see that tank?
Looks like Snot's
bringing his "A" game.
I hadn't really
considered him a threat,
which is why he's one of
the only other contestants left.
Well, not to worry.
An escape act
loses its impact...
if you can't escape.
(strained) Roger, no!
Hmm.
Looks like the paralyzing agent
is starting to wear off.
I think I better make sure
you stay put.
Just...
...in case.
There.
I had to pause for a full minute
in the middle of my sentence,
but it was worth it.
Now to kill Snot!
Aah! Aah!
And now
The Great Shmuel-dini
shall attempt an escape
from a watery death!
(applause)
(inhales deeply)
(dramatic music plays)
SNOT: Any escape artist
worth his salt
will have a bobby pin
somewhere on his person
at all times.
Lucky for me, I always wear
a bobby pin in my hair
to keep my gorgeous bangs
out of my eyes.
(groans)
(blows)
(dramatic music playing)
Good old broomstick.
Mwah!
¶¶
(latch rattles)
¶¶
(muffled shout)
(audience gasps)
Now remember, folks,
his intention is to live.
So if he drowns,
he loses the talent show.
¶¶
(laughing evilly)
(gurgling)
(audience gasps)
It's too late, Steve!
You can't save Snot with those
gimpy legs of yours,
so you might as well just
sit back and enjoy the show.
¶¶
I've got to break
that glass.
¶¶
Hey! Dingleberry!
Yes?
I may be paralyzed
right now,
but you'll always be...
a dummy!
Say that one more time.
I --
(gunshot)
(slow-motion scream)
(inhales sharply)
(audience gasps)
(shuddering weakly)
What?
How did I get here?
Oh my, God,
Somebody shot Steve!
Oh, my God!
I shot Steve!
(screams)
Oh, no way. Gross.
Okay, come on.
(groans)
¶¶
Oh, yeah.
Now I remember.
That's why I don't
do this character anymore.
That makeup
makes me crazy.
Really should've just flipped
a few more pages
into the old scrapbook.
And I learned --
Now to make sure
this makeup
never causes anybody harm
ever again!
(door opens)
(door closes)
(dramatic music plays)
Buh-bye! See you soon!
-- Captions by VITAC --