Frisky Dingo (2006–2008): Season 1, Episode 6 - Emergency Room - full transcript
The entire Dingo gang, grieviously injured in the collapse of the Annihilatrix's catwalk, have all ended up in the same emergency room. Killface muffs hitting on plucky reporter Grace Ryan and then has an unpleasant interaction with a representative from his insurance company. Also, Xander Crews is nowhere to be found! Dun-dunnnn!
This is Grace Ryan, Force 10 News
from high atop the Annihilatrix,
my microphone now literally a lifeline,
because if I fall,
1 will drop right into what appear to be
drums full of super-intelligent
radioactive waste-covered--
[Gasp]
Ants...!
[Splash, car alarm beeping]
Oh, my God. She fell.
Awesome.
Well...
Aah!
[Crash]
Jet boots rule!
- What?
- You don't need to say it every time.
[Supermarket music playing quietly]
[Coughing]
[Mumbling]
I know. I know. Nothing hurts like a scrape,
but you're being so brave.
And soon they'll fix you up
with some ointment
and a nice big Band-Aid, right?
[Mumbling]
Yes, we'll ask if they have Dora ones.
Right?
Swipe or no swiping?
Hmm?
Nothing?
Oh, blow it out your cloaca, crabcakes.
This isn't my fault.
No. It's Phil's fault.
- Me? How is it--
- Who built that catwalk?
Hmm? Show of nonsevered hands.
And God help you if you scrimped
on the building materials.
- [Mumbling]
- Yes, that's an excellent idea.
I'm going to have this pipe analyzed...
at the lab.
Ahem.
So...how are you holding up?
- Mm.
- [Mumbling]
No, I don't think she wants to be
your new...mommy.
Uh!
Ahem.
- [Mumbling]
- Shh!
Uh, which one of you is Mr...Face?
Oh, no. My son should go first.
He's got a very nasty scrape.
And we'd just love to treat him.
We want X-rays obviously.
Possibly an M.R.I.?
- Just as soon as you get insurance.
- ALL: What?
No. That's my card there. Mutual Health.
- Yeah, we're all on the same plan.
- Well, this policy has lapsed.
Oh, here we go.
Phil, you shut your fat face!
Miss Nurse, I shall require a telephone.
The pay phone's down the hall.
Splendid. I'll just clatter down there
with this pipe jutting out of my lung.
You've been an absolute delight.
Thank you!
Wait. I got hurt at work.
Aren't I covered by workman's comp?
If your employer's current with your
workman's comp insurance premiums.
Ahem.
Oh, that's no good.
[Crash]
WOMAN: Hey! Watch it!
KILLFACE: Woman, I have
a pipe in my lung!
Fatty!
Hope your baby's born dead!
I got insurance.
Can I see a doctor?
Only if we can find a way to treat you
without helping him.
Awesome!
Mm...mm.
Yes, the customer-service whoever person
told me to call this number.
Policy number.
66666666666. Hmm...
My name is Joseph.
This call is an attempt to collect a debt.
- A debt, yes. That's why I'm--
- No! You do not interrupt my speaking!
- Oh, I'm sorry.
- No premiums paid for 6 past months!
- It's debited automatically--
- You must pay this debt today!
- Stop screaming at me.
- You must not interrupt my speaking!
- Joseph, is it?
- No! No! No! No! No!
Oh, now just you see here.
Terminating! Terminating!
- I'm just trying--
- Terminating!
[Click and dial tone]
Lovely.
Everyone, that was policy number
66666666666!
- I terminated.
- [Applause]
Joseph, did you first shriek at him?
Oh, I shrieked most horribly.
Everyone, you would do well
to take a page from Joseph's book.
It's in the training manual!
[Whooping]
Ah...
Yeah, you can stop doing that, OK?
- Ah...
- Psst!
Look, I seriously need some watermelon.
Yeah, we still don't have any.
But take a look at this.
What we've got here is a healthy brain.
- Oh, thank God.
- Yes. Praise Him.
I hear you.
OK. But here's your brain.
Wait. Are those...
- ...ants?
- Yeah.
Wha--?
Yeah.
Then you transfer me to a call center
in some flyblown corner of India
to be shrieked at by a man with an accent
thicker than blackstrap molasses!
How is that racist?
Not his skin, you halfwit. His accent.
Well, then I demand to speak
to the president of your foul little company.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Yes.
And now I'm on hold again.
You would not believe the day I'm having.
- [Coughs]
- Cover your mouth.
DOCTOR: So these ants
could start to control your actions
- or possibly drive you insane.
- Oh, my God!
I mean, we don't get this a lot,
but do have
a computer-generated simulation
of one possible scenario...
Wherein you become Shaquilla,
queen of the lost city of ants.
That's your palace.
Yes. Hello. Hi.
Is this the president
of the Mutual Health Insurance Company?
What do you mean "not exactly"?
Mutual Health is owned
by the Crews company?!
Yes, the Crews company.
Yes, the one owned by Xander Crews.
What? No, Mr. Crews is unavailable to you.
Well, damn your eyes! Where is he?
Well, that's the 20 billion dollar question,
isn't it? Terminating.
[Hangs up]
[Coughs]
Yes. Shut up.
And that's your lover, Arkmed.
But he's a drone. So your love is forbidden.
Where did you even get these?
Everywhere.
What? Well, am I going to die?
Not according to these drawings.
Thank you, Simon.
It's good as new.
[Mumbling]
No. Why do you always ruin it?
[Mumbling]
Not with those dirty fingers.
Are you trying to make time with my girl?
[Mumbling]
Oh, Arthur, they fixed you.
Good as new.
Well...Relatively.
And miraculously, I'm totally fine.
Yeah, um, about that...
During your separation,
they found an inoperable tumor in your...
everywhere.
[Gasping]
Yeah, about as big as maybe...a lamb.
- Is there anything you can do?
- ll do have a computer sim--
Stop it!
- Stop it.
- Ahem.
Maybe we should all pray together.
KILLFACE: Aah!
What the--?
Sinn, bring the minivan around.
- Sire, Phil has...
- I bet Whitey here likes to pray.
- Aah!
- Man.
- Fetch the minivan!
- Sire--
We're off to murder
that wretch Xander Crews.
Don't you dare hurt him.
Sire, Phil has cancer.
Ah... [Sighs]
First of all, he's obviously not that into you.
Phil, given your strict
false meats and cheese regimen,
the only real surprise
is you're not dead already.
Phil, grappling
with the cold reality of death,
has no pithy rejoinder.
But we've got to get him treatment.
We've got no health insurance
thanks to Xander Crews.
Oh, my God, Xander. Where are you?
Well, wherever he is,
I'm sure he's laughing his fat face off.
- Uh!
- Who's laughing now, Crews?
I wasn't laughing before. Uh!
XTACLE 1: I'm gonna punch him
so friggin' hard.
XTACLE 2: I'll smash his face in.
XTACLE 3: I'm gonna blow him...
Up! What?
You...queers.
What the hell do you want?
XTACLE 1: We want a living wage!
XTACLE 2: And health insurance.
XTACLE 1: Yeah,
and some flex hours, bitch.
Uh! OK.
XTACLE 1: What? Really?
CREWS: Yes. Give me a damn phone.
- [Ringing]
- I'll call Stan and sort this out...
Jerk. Hey, wait. Don't punch.
Stan. Stan, it's Crews.
The Xtacles have me and they want
their salary and benefits back.
XTACLE: And flex hours.
You see the phone to my ear?
STAN: I'm sorry,
but I'm in the process of having Mr. Crews
pronounced legally dead...
CREWS: You what?
Taking control of the Crews company,
and grieving and so forth,
and I think it's in f'ing poor taste
for you to call here, whoever you are,
and pretend that you are him.
Stan, look,
they're not [beep] around here, man!
- STAN: Terminating.
- What?
[Dial tone]
[Sighs]
So, uh... How'd that go?
STAN: Who's laughing now, Mr. Crews?
[Evil laughter]
[Evil laughter continues]
Me. I am laughing.
XTACLE: So, you want it in the face or--
Oh, not my handsome face!
Ah, just kidding. You don't get to pick.
CREWS: You--you--
See you in hell, Dick.
OK,on 3.1...
CREWS: Oh, no. Stop counting.
2...
from high atop the Annihilatrix,
my microphone now literally a lifeline,
because if I fall,
1 will drop right into what appear to be
drums full of super-intelligent
radioactive waste-covered--
[Gasp]
Ants...!
[Splash, car alarm beeping]
Oh, my God. She fell.
Awesome.
Well...
Aah!
[Crash]
Jet boots rule!
- What?
- You don't need to say it every time.
[Supermarket music playing quietly]
[Coughing]
[Mumbling]
I know. I know. Nothing hurts like a scrape,
but you're being so brave.
And soon they'll fix you up
with some ointment
and a nice big Band-Aid, right?
[Mumbling]
Yes, we'll ask if they have Dora ones.
Right?
Swipe or no swiping?
Hmm?
Nothing?
Oh, blow it out your cloaca, crabcakes.
This isn't my fault.
No. It's Phil's fault.
- Me? How is it--
- Who built that catwalk?
Hmm? Show of nonsevered hands.
And God help you if you scrimped
on the building materials.
- [Mumbling]
- Yes, that's an excellent idea.
I'm going to have this pipe analyzed...
at the lab.
Ahem.
So...how are you holding up?
- Mm.
- [Mumbling]
No, I don't think she wants to be
your new...mommy.
Uh!
Ahem.
- [Mumbling]
- Shh!
Uh, which one of you is Mr...Face?
Oh, no. My son should go first.
He's got a very nasty scrape.
And we'd just love to treat him.
We want X-rays obviously.
Possibly an M.R.I.?
- Just as soon as you get insurance.
- ALL: What?
No. That's my card there. Mutual Health.
- Yeah, we're all on the same plan.
- Well, this policy has lapsed.
Oh, here we go.
Phil, you shut your fat face!
Miss Nurse, I shall require a telephone.
The pay phone's down the hall.
Splendid. I'll just clatter down there
with this pipe jutting out of my lung.
You've been an absolute delight.
Thank you!
Wait. I got hurt at work.
Aren't I covered by workman's comp?
If your employer's current with your
workman's comp insurance premiums.
Ahem.
Oh, that's no good.
[Crash]
WOMAN: Hey! Watch it!
KILLFACE: Woman, I have
a pipe in my lung!
Fatty!
Hope your baby's born dead!
I got insurance.
Can I see a doctor?
Only if we can find a way to treat you
without helping him.
Awesome!
Mm...mm.
Yes, the customer-service whoever person
told me to call this number.
Policy number.
66666666666. Hmm...
My name is Joseph.
This call is an attempt to collect a debt.
- A debt, yes. That's why I'm--
- No! You do not interrupt my speaking!
- Oh, I'm sorry.
- No premiums paid for 6 past months!
- It's debited automatically--
- You must pay this debt today!
- Stop screaming at me.
- You must not interrupt my speaking!
- Joseph, is it?
- No! No! No! No! No!
Oh, now just you see here.
Terminating! Terminating!
- I'm just trying--
- Terminating!
[Click and dial tone]
Lovely.
Everyone, that was policy number
66666666666!
- I terminated.
- [Applause]
Joseph, did you first shriek at him?
Oh, I shrieked most horribly.
Everyone, you would do well
to take a page from Joseph's book.
It's in the training manual!
[Whooping]
Ah...
Yeah, you can stop doing that, OK?
- Ah...
- Psst!
Look, I seriously need some watermelon.
Yeah, we still don't have any.
But take a look at this.
What we've got here is a healthy brain.
- Oh, thank God.
- Yes. Praise Him.
I hear you.
OK. But here's your brain.
Wait. Are those...
- ...ants?
- Yeah.
Wha--?
Yeah.
Then you transfer me to a call center
in some flyblown corner of India
to be shrieked at by a man with an accent
thicker than blackstrap molasses!
How is that racist?
Not his skin, you halfwit. His accent.
Well, then I demand to speak
to the president of your foul little company.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Yes.
And now I'm on hold again.
You would not believe the day I'm having.
- [Coughs]
- Cover your mouth.
DOCTOR: So these ants
could start to control your actions
- or possibly drive you insane.
- Oh, my God!
I mean, we don't get this a lot,
but do have
a computer-generated simulation
of one possible scenario...
Wherein you become Shaquilla,
queen of the lost city of ants.
That's your palace.
Yes. Hello. Hi.
Is this the president
of the Mutual Health Insurance Company?
What do you mean "not exactly"?
Mutual Health is owned
by the Crews company?!
Yes, the Crews company.
Yes, the one owned by Xander Crews.
What? No, Mr. Crews is unavailable to you.
Well, damn your eyes! Where is he?
Well, that's the 20 billion dollar question,
isn't it? Terminating.
[Hangs up]
[Coughs]
Yes. Shut up.
And that's your lover, Arkmed.
But he's a drone. So your love is forbidden.
Where did you even get these?
Everywhere.
What? Well, am I going to die?
Not according to these drawings.
Thank you, Simon.
It's good as new.
[Mumbling]
No. Why do you always ruin it?
[Mumbling]
Not with those dirty fingers.
Are you trying to make time with my girl?
[Mumbling]
Oh, Arthur, they fixed you.
Good as new.
Well...Relatively.
And miraculously, I'm totally fine.
Yeah, um, about that...
During your separation,
they found an inoperable tumor in your...
everywhere.
[Gasping]
Yeah, about as big as maybe...a lamb.
- Is there anything you can do?
- ll do have a computer sim--
Stop it!
- Stop it.
- Ahem.
Maybe we should all pray together.
KILLFACE: Aah!
What the--?
Sinn, bring the minivan around.
- Sire, Phil has...
- I bet Whitey here likes to pray.
- Aah!
- Man.
- Fetch the minivan!
- Sire--
We're off to murder
that wretch Xander Crews.
Don't you dare hurt him.
Sire, Phil has cancer.
Ah... [Sighs]
First of all, he's obviously not that into you.
Phil, given your strict
false meats and cheese regimen,
the only real surprise
is you're not dead already.
Phil, grappling
with the cold reality of death,
has no pithy rejoinder.
But we've got to get him treatment.
We've got no health insurance
thanks to Xander Crews.
Oh, my God, Xander. Where are you?
Well, wherever he is,
I'm sure he's laughing his fat face off.
- Uh!
- Who's laughing now, Crews?
I wasn't laughing before. Uh!
XTACLE 1: I'm gonna punch him
so friggin' hard.
XTACLE 2: I'll smash his face in.
XTACLE 3: I'm gonna blow him...
Up! What?
You...queers.
What the hell do you want?
XTACLE 1: We want a living wage!
XTACLE 2: And health insurance.
XTACLE 1: Yeah,
and some flex hours, bitch.
Uh! OK.
XTACLE 1: What? Really?
CREWS: Yes. Give me a damn phone.
- [Ringing]
- I'll call Stan and sort this out...
Jerk. Hey, wait. Don't punch.
Stan. Stan, it's Crews.
The Xtacles have me and they want
their salary and benefits back.
XTACLE: And flex hours.
You see the phone to my ear?
STAN: I'm sorry,
but I'm in the process of having Mr. Crews
pronounced legally dead...
CREWS: You what?
Taking control of the Crews company,
and grieving and so forth,
and I think it's in f'ing poor taste
for you to call here, whoever you are,
and pretend that you are him.
Stan, look,
they're not [beep] around here, man!
- STAN: Terminating.
- What?
[Dial tone]
[Sighs]
So, uh... How'd that go?
STAN: Who's laughing now, Mr. Crews?
[Evil laughter]
[Evil laughter continues]
Me. I am laughing.
XTACLE: So, you want it in the face or--
Oh, not my handsome face!
Ah, just kidding. You don't get to pick.
CREWS: You--you--
See you in hell, Dick.
OK,on 3.1...
CREWS: Oh, no. Stop counting.
2...