Oddballs (2022–…): Season 1, Episode 4 - Line Cutters - full transcript
While waiting for the ultimate slow-cooked ribs, James and Max meet a girl named Echo who claims she's from a future with no processed foods.
-Go, go, go, go, go! Agh!
See? Everything worked out.
Aw. I wanna be a letter.
Oh, boy. Why is the line so long?
Oh, no, you don't.
Hey! Back of the line!
Ah!
Garbage!
You smell that, Max? Can you smell it?
You know the rules.
Whoever smelt it, dealt it.
No, the food.
Oh, yeah! Mmm.
That's the sweet smell
of Dirt's very first experiment.
The ultimate ribs.
Slow-cooked for 100 years
by chefs infused with DNA
from a notoriously angry chef.
Ooh, he looks like he'd swear a lot.
Hey! No cutting!
Ugh, line cutters, the lowest form of low.
Honestly, if you ever catch me cutting,
never talk to me again.
What?! No! Talking's how we talk.
True.
But line cutting is a crime
against civilized society, Max.
Anyone who does it should be ousted,
shunned, banned!
Each and every cutter is an animal!
No offense.
Only half of me is offended.
That's how bad it is, Max.
I had to use your species against you
to make my point.
Line cutting is the most narcissistic,
selfish, arrogant...
Target acquired, ribs located.
The next time I see a line cutter,
I'm gonna give them a piece of my mind.
Someone just cut you.
What the cut, man?
No way we're letting you front-cut us.
Am I right?
Mm-hmm.
I didn't cut.
My time portal brought me here.
I'm here on a mission
and there's nothing you can do to stop me.
Oh, can't I?
Security! Line cutter!
-We have a line cutter right here!
-Huh?
Ha!
Line cutter! Line cutter alert!
Oh, you're in for it now.
Roxanne, take her away.
Back of the line!
What?
No! You got this all wrong.
She's the cutter. We didn't do anything.
It's not what my citation says.
"Distrubing the peas."
Hey, it's hard to write
when you're afraid of paper.
This is a disgraceful violation
of our recreational rights, Roxanne!
This is all your fault.
You sabotaged my mission.
What mission?
Mission to cut the line?
You have no idea what you've done.
I'm from a time and place
where processed food doesn't exist.
A bleak future where you have
to cook every meal from scratch.
No fast food, no microwavable snacks.
Imagine a place
where if you want a bowl of cereal,
you have to grow the grain,
pick the grain, grind the grain.
It's a place where chicken nuggets
are just something
you've read about
on the dark corners of the Internet.
It's a place where Grandma
doesn't bake you cookies,
she just tells you stories about them.
No, it can't be.
I spent years researching which food
would be the best
to come back in time to eat.
But because of you,
my mission has been compromised!
Oh, come on,
no one's going to believe that.
Wow! So you're from the future?
Tell me more.
Okay. Well, since you brought chairs...
My name's Echo, and this is Birdie.
Three hundred years from now,
food is awful,
thanks to an experiment in your time
by a Professor Dumas.
Yeah, right. What a made-up name.
It is. I made it up.
But only because history books
don't say his real name.
They're all redacted.
Anyway, I read that today's the day
to try the best ribs in history.
Wow. Did you hear that, James?
Yes, in 300 years they're still
talking about how good these ribs are,
which is why she tried to cut and why
we're now at the back of the line.
Hey, man. You're the one who started
yelling and banging camping supplies.
Just leave us alone, line cutter.
Max and I are gonna go get some ribs.
Okay, we just walk right up
to the front of the line
and take our rightful place.
Ready, Max?
Max?
Tell James I promised him
I'd never talk to him if he cut,
so I'm not talking to him.
Why is it so hard?
We already waited in line, so technically
we're not cutting, we're reinserting.
Hey, remember us?
Tent, giant talking crocodile.
Good, thanks, all right.
Try it and die, dough boy.
No cuts.
I was reinserting!
Well, I saw that coming.
You cost us ribs again!
Hey! At least I'm not a liar.
Who's lying?
You! Miss "I'm from the future."
I am, and that's why I know a way
to get my old pal Roxanne off our backs.
A-ha! Now I know you're lying.
How could you know Roxanne
if you're from 300 years in the future?
Is Roxanne a time traveler too?
No.
She's a rock
who's still alive in 300 years
and she loves
playing rock, paper, scissors.
Roxanne doesn't love anything,
other than enforcing the right rules
against the wrong people.
Yeah?
Challenge her to a game of RPS,
if you're so sure I'm wrong.
I am. And you are. And I will.
Hey, Roxanne.
Wanna play rock, paper, scissors?
If I win, you let us reinsert ourselves
to our rightful place
at the front of the line.
And if you win,
you can toss us out from the whole event.
Why not?
I ain't tossed you around enough today.
Oh...
Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!
Scissors!
Rock!
You blew it!
Well, I guess I was right
and you're incredibly stupid.
Yeah, James, what's wrong with you?
It was a good plan.
I knew that Roxanne knew
that I knew that paper covers rock,
so I was expecting her to trick me
by playing paper, which covers rock,
which is why I chose scissors,
which cuts paper.
You don't understand
because I'm playing
four-dimensional chess.
Yeah. Well, unfortunately,
she was playing rock, paper, scissors.
Well, this is your fault for cutting us,
then pestering us with your kooky
"I'm from the future" garbage.
Hey, if you don't want me to warn you
with my knowledge of the future.
Oh, more about Professor Dumas?
No, that these slow-cooking human chefs
are actually aliens
who are fattening you ancient Dirters up
to eat you, then fine.
Fattening us up to eat us?
Oh! I don't wanna get eaten by aliens!
Maybe praying mantises,
but that's where I draw the line.
No, Max, stay. She's lying
with that tinfoil-hat conspiracy theory.
I do not wear a tinfoil hat.
I have real technology
to keep people from reading my mind.
And I'm not lying.
The ribs are meant
to tenderize you from the inside,
so you'll be tender when they cook you up.
You're just trying to freak out Max.
Well, you're in denial
and you're keeping him from the truth.
Well, you're the one
who tried to cut in line.
Well, you're the one
who got us kicked out of line.
Because you're the one
who tried to cut us.
Stop!
I can't take hearing my best friend
and someone I barely know,
but who has immense friend potential,
angrily yell factual things at each other!
I-- I'm settling this once and for all.
How?
By sneaking into the back
of that food stand
and either eating some ribs
or getting eaten by aliens.
Tell the praying mantises
that they're no longer my line.
Hey, where do you think you're--
Paper.
Get it off, get it off, get it off!
I'm going after him.
Why? Because you believe me
that he's in danger?
No, because I can't prove you wrong
from out here.
Plus, he's totally line cutting,
and I have to stop him.
Paper covers rock!
Paper covers rock!
Friends... arguing.
Ribs... make better.
The ribs!
Save some for me!
Wait. What am I doing?
If I eat these ribs, then I'm no better
than those cutters upon whom I've frowned.
I would no longer be able
to look at myself in a mirror.
Eh, who needs mirrors?
Tweenagers?
What are you doing back here?
Max, it's the angry British chef!
Looks like our feast is starting early.
Oh, yes, Chef!
Thank you, Chef!
[all growl
See? Aliens.
Aliens!
Aliens?
Just 'cause they're giant talking bugs,
doesn't mean they're from outer space.
Not buying it.
I knew you didn't come to eat ribs
because of Professor Dumas
ruining the food future.
Still not lying.
Hm. Well, intruders,
or should I say appetizers?
You have the honor
of being the first to be eaten by us.
Dripflong, Smorgplank, get them.
Yes, Chef!
Thank you, Chef!
Mmm! Mmm!
Whoa.
Mmm, so juicy!
Huh?
What are you doing?!
Eating.
How can you eat right now?
We're about to be devoured
by British bugs
who may or may not be aliens!
Because I'm from the future.
I know what's going to happen.
Well, what happens?
You die.
If you don't admit I'm right.
Never!
-Okay.
Yes, Chef!
Thank you, Chef!
I'll start with the short, puffy one.
-James!
Wait, but I'm not all tender!
Please, just let me have some ribs!
Hm, you don't need ribs.
You look like a puffy, tender marshmallow.
Okay. Okay, Echo.
You were right.
You were right!
Cool.
Ow!
Ow! Stop it!
Ow. I came here to eat, just like you.
Throgbort out.
Oh, yes, Chef!
Thank you, Chef!
Still doesn't prove they're aliens.
We're not dead!
Normally,
I wouldn't high-five a line cutter, but...
Mm. Still not a line cutter.
I wouldn't even be here
if Professor Dumas
hadn't ruined food for the rest of time.
All right, guys, let's eat!
You're not supposed to be back here.
Uh, wait a minute.
What if we play
rock, paper, scissors again,
but this time, if I win,
we get to finish this meal?
Huh, you're on.
Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!
Seriously, what is wrong with you?
Sausage!
See? Everything worked out.
Aw. I wanna be a letter.
Oh, boy. Why is the line so long?
Oh, no, you don't.
Hey! Back of the line!
Ah!
Garbage!
You smell that, Max? Can you smell it?
You know the rules.
Whoever smelt it, dealt it.
No, the food.
Oh, yeah! Mmm.
That's the sweet smell
of Dirt's very first experiment.
The ultimate ribs.
Slow-cooked for 100 years
by chefs infused with DNA
from a notoriously angry chef.
Ooh, he looks like he'd swear a lot.
Hey! No cutting!
Ugh, line cutters, the lowest form of low.
Honestly, if you ever catch me cutting,
never talk to me again.
What?! No! Talking's how we talk.
True.
But line cutting is a crime
against civilized society, Max.
Anyone who does it should be ousted,
shunned, banned!
Each and every cutter is an animal!
No offense.
Only half of me is offended.
That's how bad it is, Max.
I had to use your species against you
to make my point.
Line cutting is the most narcissistic,
selfish, arrogant...
Target acquired, ribs located.
The next time I see a line cutter,
I'm gonna give them a piece of my mind.
Someone just cut you.
What the cut, man?
No way we're letting you front-cut us.
Am I right?
Mm-hmm.
I didn't cut.
My time portal brought me here.
I'm here on a mission
and there's nothing you can do to stop me.
Oh, can't I?
Security! Line cutter!
-We have a line cutter right here!
-Huh?
Ha!
Line cutter! Line cutter alert!
Oh, you're in for it now.
Roxanne, take her away.
Back of the line!
What?
No! You got this all wrong.
She's the cutter. We didn't do anything.
It's not what my citation says.
"Distrubing the peas."
Hey, it's hard to write
when you're afraid of paper.
This is a disgraceful violation
of our recreational rights, Roxanne!
This is all your fault.
You sabotaged my mission.
What mission?
Mission to cut the line?
You have no idea what you've done.
I'm from a time and place
where processed food doesn't exist.
A bleak future where you have
to cook every meal from scratch.
No fast food, no microwavable snacks.
Imagine a place
where if you want a bowl of cereal,
you have to grow the grain,
pick the grain, grind the grain.
It's a place where chicken nuggets
are just something
you've read about
on the dark corners of the Internet.
It's a place where Grandma
doesn't bake you cookies,
she just tells you stories about them.
No, it can't be.
I spent years researching which food
would be the best
to come back in time to eat.
But because of you,
my mission has been compromised!
Oh, come on,
no one's going to believe that.
Wow! So you're from the future?
Tell me more.
Okay. Well, since you brought chairs...
My name's Echo, and this is Birdie.
Three hundred years from now,
food is awful,
thanks to an experiment in your time
by a Professor Dumas.
Yeah, right. What a made-up name.
It is. I made it up.
But only because history books
don't say his real name.
They're all redacted.
Anyway, I read that today's the day
to try the best ribs in history.
Wow. Did you hear that, James?
Yes, in 300 years they're still
talking about how good these ribs are,
which is why she tried to cut and why
we're now at the back of the line.
Hey, man. You're the one who started
yelling and banging camping supplies.
Just leave us alone, line cutter.
Max and I are gonna go get some ribs.
Okay, we just walk right up
to the front of the line
and take our rightful place.
Ready, Max?
Max?
Tell James I promised him
I'd never talk to him if he cut,
so I'm not talking to him.
Why is it so hard?
We already waited in line, so technically
we're not cutting, we're reinserting.
Hey, remember us?
Tent, giant talking crocodile.
Good, thanks, all right.
Try it and die, dough boy.
No cuts.
I was reinserting!
Well, I saw that coming.
You cost us ribs again!
Hey! At least I'm not a liar.
Who's lying?
You! Miss "I'm from the future."
I am, and that's why I know a way
to get my old pal Roxanne off our backs.
A-ha! Now I know you're lying.
How could you know Roxanne
if you're from 300 years in the future?
Is Roxanne a time traveler too?
No.
She's a rock
who's still alive in 300 years
and she loves
playing rock, paper, scissors.
Roxanne doesn't love anything,
other than enforcing the right rules
against the wrong people.
Yeah?
Challenge her to a game of RPS,
if you're so sure I'm wrong.
I am. And you are. And I will.
Hey, Roxanne.
Wanna play rock, paper, scissors?
If I win, you let us reinsert ourselves
to our rightful place
at the front of the line.
And if you win,
you can toss us out from the whole event.
Why not?
I ain't tossed you around enough today.
Oh...
Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!
Scissors!
Rock!
You blew it!
Well, I guess I was right
and you're incredibly stupid.
Yeah, James, what's wrong with you?
It was a good plan.
I knew that Roxanne knew
that I knew that paper covers rock,
so I was expecting her to trick me
by playing paper, which covers rock,
which is why I chose scissors,
which cuts paper.
You don't understand
because I'm playing
four-dimensional chess.
Yeah. Well, unfortunately,
she was playing rock, paper, scissors.
Well, this is your fault for cutting us,
then pestering us with your kooky
"I'm from the future" garbage.
Hey, if you don't want me to warn you
with my knowledge of the future.
Oh, more about Professor Dumas?
No, that these slow-cooking human chefs
are actually aliens
who are fattening you ancient Dirters up
to eat you, then fine.
Fattening us up to eat us?
Oh! I don't wanna get eaten by aliens!
Maybe praying mantises,
but that's where I draw the line.
No, Max, stay. She's lying
with that tinfoil-hat conspiracy theory.
I do not wear a tinfoil hat.
I have real technology
to keep people from reading my mind.
And I'm not lying.
The ribs are meant
to tenderize you from the inside,
so you'll be tender when they cook you up.
You're just trying to freak out Max.
Well, you're in denial
and you're keeping him from the truth.
Well, you're the one
who tried to cut in line.
Well, you're the one
who got us kicked out of line.
Because you're the one
who tried to cut us.
Stop!
I can't take hearing my best friend
and someone I barely know,
but who has immense friend potential,
angrily yell factual things at each other!
I-- I'm settling this once and for all.
How?
By sneaking into the back
of that food stand
and either eating some ribs
or getting eaten by aliens.
Tell the praying mantises
that they're no longer my line.
Hey, where do you think you're--
Paper.
Get it off, get it off, get it off!
I'm going after him.
Why? Because you believe me
that he's in danger?
No, because I can't prove you wrong
from out here.
Plus, he's totally line cutting,
and I have to stop him.
Paper covers rock!
Paper covers rock!
Friends... arguing.
Ribs... make better.
The ribs!
Save some for me!
Wait. What am I doing?
If I eat these ribs, then I'm no better
than those cutters upon whom I've frowned.
I would no longer be able
to look at myself in a mirror.
Eh, who needs mirrors?
Tweenagers?
What are you doing back here?
Max, it's the angry British chef!
Looks like our feast is starting early.
Oh, yes, Chef!
Thank you, Chef!
[all growl
See? Aliens.
Aliens!
Aliens?
Just 'cause they're giant talking bugs,
doesn't mean they're from outer space.
Not buying it.
I knew you didn't come to eat ribs
because of Professor Dumas
ruining the food future.
Still not lying.
Hm. Well, intruders,
or should I say appetizers?
You have the honor
of being the first to be eaten by us.
Dripflong, Smorgplank, get them.
Yes, Chef!
Thank you, Chef!
Mmm! Mmm!
Whoa.
Mmm, so juicy!
Huh?
What are you doing?!
Eating.
How can you eat right now?
We're about to be devoured
by British bugs
who may or may not be aliens!
Because I'm from the future.
I know what's going to happen.
Well, what happens?
You die.
If you don't admit I'm right.
Never!
-Okay.
Yes, Chef!
Thank you, Chef!
I'll start with the short, puffy one.
-James!
Wait, but I'm not all tender!
Please, just let me have some ribs!
Hm, you don't need ribs.
You look like a puffy, tender marshmallow.
Okay. Okay, Echo.
You were right.
You were right!
Cool.
Ow!
Ow! Stop it!
Ow. I came here to eat, just like you.
Throgbort out.
Oh, yes, Chef!
Thank you, Chef!
Still doesn't prove they're aliens.
We're not dead!
Normally,
I wouldn't high-five a line cutter, but...
Mm. Still not a line cutter.
I wouldn't even be here
if Professor Dumas
hadn't ruined food for the rest of time.
All right, guys, let's eat!
You're not supposed to be back here.
Uh, wait a minute.
What if we play
rock, paper, scissors again,
but this time, if I win,
we get to finish this meal?
Huh, you're on.
Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!
Seriously, what is wrong with you?
Sausage!