Regular Show (2009–2017): Season 7, Episode 3 - The Lunch Club - full transcript
Rigby ruins Maellard's fancy lunch, and now he or Benson has to write a letter of resignation.
[♪♪♪]
[♪♪♪]
[PEOPLE CHATTERING
INDISTINCTLY]
Now, that's what I call
liquid assets.
[LAUGHS]
Maellard, old boy,
your brunch is the event
of the season.
Eh, it's okay, but
no brunch would be complete
without a little dessert.
The most expensive
sheet cake in the world!
[CROWD GASPS]
[CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYING]
Woo-hoo!
If you want to know
how much it costs,
take a look
at the frosting.
[CROWD GUFFAWS]
[ENGINE PUTTERING]
[PEOPLE GASP]
[GLASS SHATTERS]
[SNORING]
Rigby!
[PEOPLE GASPING]
[GROWLS]
RIGBY:
What? I'll buy you
a new cake.
You really
screwed up this time!
Hold on, now, Benson.
You share as much blame
for this as he does.
You are his manager.
It's true, Benson.
I told you I needed a nap.
You were tired
because you were
up all night
playing video games!
Enough!
Rigby's a goof-up, but
discipline starts at the top.
So here's what's
gonna happen...
one of you
is gonna write
a letter of resignation
by 5:00.
No one leaves this office
until it's done,
and if you can't work it out,
you're both fired!
This is the last thing
I needed today.
First, my car breaks down, and I
have to get a ride from my dad.
And now this.
All right, Rigby, stop playing
around and write that letter.
Why should I write it?
Didn't you hear?
Maellard said
it was your fault,
'cause you
mismanaged me.
Come on, Rigby. We both
know this is your fault.
Not now, Benson.
I'm reading up
on my management
techniques.
There's some
good stuff in here.
[GROWLS]
Hey! I was reading that!
Why can't you take
anything seriously?
Why are you so uptight?
[BOTH GRUNT]
What's going on in here?
Rigby--
Benson--
Give me that!
This isn't party time.
This is write-a-letter-
to-quit time,
and if I have to come back
in here, I'm busting heads.
I'm not writin'
that letter.
[♪♪♪]
Rigby, don't you make me
come out there.
Ugh!
Rigby!
If Maellard catches us,
we're dead.
Well, go back,
so you don't get caught.
That's it.
You march right back--
[DOOR CREAKS]
Oh, shoot.
Rigby, what are you
doing in here?
You can come out
now, Benson.
Oh, hey, Benson.
Hmm.
I thought Maellard
was gonna fire you.
Pssh! Maellard's
just bluffing.
POPS:
But, Papa, you can't
fire both of them!
Aah!
Shh!
We gotta get outta here.
[♪♪♪]
Which way
is your office?
Uh...down there!
Ah! So angry
at those two.
I think I'll just stare
at my beloved park
for a few long minutes.
Nah, on second thought,
I better check in on them.
[BOTH GASP, THEN PANTING]
Oh, yeah!
Ah! Aah!
Rigby, give me a hand.
Rigby!
What the--?
[BOTH GRUNTING]
[POUNDING ON DOOR]
Rigby! What's
the meaning of this?
Uh, the door was stuck.
I was trying to help.
You know, old house.
Benson?
Uh, yeah, it does
that sometimes.
The door...sticks.
What am I feeling
right now?
What is this called?
It's called being alive.
Oh. Well, thanks
for helping me.
No problem.
[TICKING]
Oh, what am I gonna do?
This job is my life.
Okay, tell you what.
If you write the letter,
I'll write you a stellar
letter of recommendation
for your next job.
Yeah, Benson,
I'll think about it,
but I can't think
on an empty stomach.
You're not gonna eat
those cold, are you?
Jeez, Benson,
you're even uptight
about how to eat hot wings.
You'll do a lot better
at your next job
if you just
loosen up a bit.
Give me that!
Hey!
[♪♪♪]
Benson, wait!
Where are we going?
The kitchen, Rigby.
We're gonna cook
these wings.
But I'm fine
with eating them cold.
We're better than that.
I'm not.
Looks like
the coast is clear.
Oof!
We're gonna reheat 'em
and go, right?
Yeah.
I'll look out for Maellard.
Now, where's the paprika?
Are you--? Paprika?
Are you kidding?
I thought we were just
gonna reheat 'em!
Uh, that's what I'm doing!
The Benson way.
[IMITATING GUITAR]
♪ Microwave wings ♪
♪ Microwave wings! ♪
♪ This is Benson's recipe
For microwave wings ♪
♪ Dash of pepper ♪
♪ Blast of curry ♪
♪ Mixing 'em slow ♪
♪ Not gonna hurry ♪
What are you singing?
"Microwave Wings,"
off of Cournotopia,
Hair to the Throne's
recipe concept album.
It was a huge hit
on the adult contemporary,
prog-rock,
soft-metal charts.
Never heard of it.
♪ Microwave wings ♪
♪ Microwave wings ♪
♪ Where did everybody go
After the show? ♪
♪ Benson's on his own again
Don't ya know? ♪
♪♪ Benson eats alone ♪
♪ Benson eats alone ♪
Man, good tune.
Weird bridge, though.
[GASPS]
They're coming!
But the song says
it's got to cook
for 90 seconds,
and not one second less!
I'm bailing!
Outta my way!
Oof! Unh!
Come on. Come on.
Benson, don't be stupid.
MAELLARD:
My shirt's still
got stains on it.
[GASPS]
Uh...
Club soda will get that
right out.
Now, where did I put it?
Hmm...
Ah, it's probably
in the pantry.
Pops, when's the last time
this kitchen was remodeled?
[SCREAMS]
Huh?
I mean, ah, ah,
ah-ht seven.
'07.
Ah! No wonder
I like it so much.
Classic!
Now, let's see.
Club soda,
club soda.
Club soda, club soda.
Club soda.
Alley-oop!
Did you say something?
[LAUGHS]
Just doing
calisthenics, Father.
Aha! Getting strong, eh?
Think you can take on
your old man?
[WHEEZING]
[SOBBING]
No!
Good.
Never challenge me
again.
[BOTH LAUGHING]
Dude, that was awesome!
Well?
You're right.
These are way better!
Told ya.
BOTH:
♪ Lunch club ♪
[♪♪♪]
[SLOW ROCK MUSIC PLAYING]
Benson, what are you
anxious about?
[CHUCKLES]
Ho, ho.
Awkward silences,
airplane toilets,
silverfish, do I have
any library books out?
What if they stop making
that gum I like?
This recurring nightmare
where I'm flailing
in a futureless void.
My father's there.
He's laughing at me.
Wow, you're
pretty messed up.
My dad,
he was always like,
"Your brother Don
is so amazing.
Just go back to being
a goof-up, Rigby."
I don't even understand
half the reasons
I do the things I do.
I'm expected to be a clown,
so I'm a clown.
But clowns cry too, man.
Clowns cry too.
My old man criticized me
for being in that band.
"Wake up!
You don't have any talent!
Get a real job!"
"Drumming's my life, Dad!
Hair to the Throne
forevah!"
After six months,
they replaced me
with a drum machine.
He was right.
Then I started
working here,
where I'll probably be
until I die.
"Here lies some uptight
park manager."
Don't say that.
You're more than that!
Heh. Thanks, man.
And you're more
than just
a goof that
messes things up.
It's almost 5.
What are we gonna do?
I'll do it.
For once,
I'll take responsibility
for my actions.
No, I'll be fired.
For once, I'll have a spine
and change my life.
[TICKING]
Where are they?
BENSON:
"Dear Mr. Maellard,
we accept that we messed up.
"But you're crazy
to make one of us
"write a resignation letter.
"You see us
as you want to see us.
"In the simplest terms,
you see us as an angry,
uptight boss."
RIGBY:
"An irresponsible slacker."
BENSON:
"A guy who has no fun."
RIGBY:
"A guy who has too much fun."
[HONKS]
BENSON:
"A guy who's estranged
from his father."
Dad, we never talk.
BENSON:
"So, if one of us resigns
from your precious park,
"we both resign.
"Does that answer
your question?
"Sincerely, the Lunch Club.
P.S. Shove it,
you decrepit old man."
Ah, it's no use.
I can't read this
at all.
Pops!
Read this for me.
I can't find
my glasses.
Um, it says,
"We love the park
and don't want to be fired.
"We're sorry.
Love, Benson and Rigby.
P.S.--" Ah!
"Nice things!"
[LAUGHS NERVOUSLY]
Well,
what a lovely letter!
Especially the nice things
they said at the end.
I forgive them.
I don't know
what I was thinking.
Those two round out
the whole dynamic here.
Where would we be without
a Benson or a Rigby?
Heh, heh. Where, indeed?
Heh, heh.
Ha!
[♪♪♪]
[♪♪♪]
[♪♪♪]
[PEOPLE CHATTERING
INDISTINCTLY]
Now, that's what I call
liquid assets.
[LAUGHS]
Maellard, old boy,
your brunch is the event
of the season.
Eh, it's okay, but
no brunch would be complete
without a little dessert.
The most expensive
sheet cake in the world!
[CROWD GASPS]
[CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYING]
Woo-hoo!
If you want to know
how much it costs,
take a look
at the frosting.
[CROWD GUFFAWS]
[ENGINE PUTTERING]
[PEOPLE GASP]
[GLASS SHATTERS]
[SNORING]
Rigby!
[PEOPLE GASPING]
[GROWLS]
RIGBY:
What? I'll buy you
a new cake.
You really
screwed up this time!
Hold on, now, Benson.
You share as much blame
for this as he does.
You are his manager.
It's true, Benson.
I told you I needed a nap.
You were tired
because you were
up all night
playing video games!
Enough!
Rigby's a goof-up, but
discipline starts at the top.
So here's what's
gonna happen...
one of you
is gonna write
a letter of resignation
by 5:00.
No one leaves this office
until it's done,
and if you can't work it out,
you're both fired!
This is the last thing
I needed today.
First, my car breaks down, and I
have to get a ride from my dad.
And now this.
All right, Rigby, stop playing
around and write that letter.
Why should I write it?
Didn't you hear?
Maellard said
it was your fault,
'cause you
mismanaged me.
Come on, Rigby. We both
know this is your fault.
Not now, Benson.
I'm reading up
on my management
techniques.
There's some
good stuff in here.
[GROWLS]
Hey! I was reading that!
Why can't you take
anything seriously?
Why are you so uptight?
[BOTH GRUNT]
What's going on in here?
Rigby--
Benson--
Give me that!
This isn't party time.
This is write-a-letter-
to-quit time,
and if I have to come back
in here, I'm busting heads.
I'm not writin'
that letter.
[♪♪♪]
Rigby, don't you make me
come out there.
Ugh!
Rigby!
If Maellard catches us,
we're dead.
Well, go back,
so you don't get caught.
That's it.
You march right back--
[DOOR CREAKS]
Oh, shoot.
Rigby, what are you
doing in here?
You can come out
now, Benson.
Oh, hey, Benson.
Hmm.
I thought Maellard
was gonna fire you.
Pssh! Maellard's
just bluffing.
POPS:
But, Papa, you can't
fire both of them!
Aah!
Shh!
We gotta get outta here.
[♪♪♪]
Which way
is your office?
Uh...down there!
Ah! So angry
at those two.
I think I'll just stare
at my beloved park
for a few long minutes.
Nah, on second thought,
I better check in on them.
[BOTH GASP, THEN PANTING]
Oh, yeah!
Ah! Aah!
Rigby, give me a hand.
Rigby!
What the--?
[BOTH GRUNTING]
[POUNDING ON DOOR]
Rigby! What's
the meaning of this?
Uh, the door was stuck.
I was trying to help.
You know, old house.
Benson?
Uh, yeah, it does
that sometimes.
The door...sticks.
What am I feeling
right now?
What is this called?
It's called being alive.
Oh. Well, thanks
for helping me.
No problem.
[TICKING]
Oh, what am I gonna do?
This job is my life.
Okay, tell you what.
If you write the letter,
I'll write you a stellar
letter of recommendation
for your next job.
Yeah, Benson,
I'll think about it,
but I can't think
on an empty stomach.
You're not gonna eat
those cold, are you?
Jeez, Benson,
you're even uptight
about how to eat hot wings.
You'll do a lot better
at your next job
if you just
loosen up a bit.
Give me that!
Hey!
[♪♪♪]
Benson, wait!
Where are we going?
The kitchen, Rigby.
We're gonna cook
these wings.
But I'm fine
with eating them cold.
We're better than that.
I'm not.
Looks like
the coast is clear.
Oof!
We're gonna reheat 'em
and go, right?
Yeah.
I'll look out for Maellard.
Now, where's the paprika?
Are you--? Paprika?
Are you kidding?
I thought we were just
gonna reheat 'em!
Uh, that's what I'm doing!
The Benson way.
[IMITATING GUITAR]
♪ Microwave wings ♪
♪ Microwave wings! ♪
♪ This is Benson's recipe
For microwave wings ♪
♪ Dash of pepper ♪
♪ Blast of curry ♪
♪ Mixing 'em slow ♪
♪ Not gonna hurry ♪
What are you singing?
"Microwave Wings,"
off of Cournotopia,
Hair to the Throne's
recipe concept album.
It was a huge hit
on the adult contemporary,
prog-rock,
soft-metal charts.
Never heard of it.
♪ Microwave wings ♪
♪ Microwave wings ♪
♪ Where did everybody go
After the show? ♪
♪ Benson's on his own again
Don't ya know? ♪
♪♪ Benson eats alone ♪
♪ Benson eats alone ♪
Man, good tune.
Weird bridge, though.
[GASPS]
They're coming!
But the song says
it's got to cook
for 90 seconds,
and not one second less!
I'm bailing!
Outta my way!
Oof! Unh!
Come on. Come on.
Benson, don't be stupid.
MAELLARD:
My shirt's still
got stains on it.
[GASPS]
Uh...
Club soda will get that
right out.
Now, where did I put it?
Hmm...
Ah, it's probably
in the pantry.
Pops, when's the last time
this kitchen was remodeled?
[SCREAMS]
Huh?
I mean, ah, ah,
ah-ht seven.
'07.
Ah! No wonder
I like it so much.
Classic!
Now, let's see.
Club soda,
club soda.
Club soda, club soda.
Club soda.
Alley-oop!
Did you say something?
[LAUGHS]
Just doing
calisthenics, Father.
Aha! Getting strong, eh?
Think you can take on
your old man?
[WHEEZING]
[SOBBING]
No!
Good.
Never challenge me
again.
[BOTH LAUGHING]
Dude, that was awesome!
Well?
You're right.
These are way better!
Told ya.
BOTH:
♪ Lunch club ♪
[♪♪♪]
[SLOW ROCK MUSIC PLAYING]
Benson, what are you
anxious about?
[CHUCKLES]
Ho, ho.
Awkward silences,
airplane toilets,
silverfish, do I have
any library books out?
What if they stop making
that gum I like?
This recurring nightmare
where I'm flailing
in a futureless void.
My father's there.
He's laughing at me.
Wow, you're
pretty messed up.
My dad,
he was always like,
"Your brother Don
is so amazing.
Just go back to being
a goof-up, Rigby."
I don't even understand
half the reasons
I do the things I do.
I'm expected to be a clown,
so I'm a clown.
But clowns cry too, man.
Clowns cry too.
My old man criticized me
for being in that band.
"Wake up!
You don't have any talent!
Get a real job!"
"Drumming's my life, Dad!
Hair to the Throne
forevah!"
After six months,
they replaced me
with a drum machine.
He was right.
Then I started
working here,
where I'll probably be
until I die.
"Here lies some uptight
park manager."
Don't say that.
You're more than that!
Heh. Thanks, man.
And you're more
than just
a goof that
messes things up.
It's almost 5.
What are we gonna do?
I'll do it.
For once,
I'll take responsibility
for my actions.
No, I'll be fired.
For once, I'll have a spine
and change my life.
[TICKING]
Where are they?
BENSON:
"Dear Mr. Maellard,
we accept that we messed up.
"But you're crazy
to make one of us
"write a resignation letter.
"You see us
as you want to see us.
"In the simplest terms,
you see us as an angry,
uptight boss."
RIGBY:
"An irresponsible slacker."
BENSON:
"A guy who has no fun."
RIGBY:
"A guy who has too much fun."
[HONKS]
BENSON:
"A guy who's estranged
from his father."
Dad, we never talk.
BENSON:
"So, if one of us resigns
from your precious park,
"we both resign.
"Does that answer
your question?
"Sincerely, the Lunch Club.
P.S. Shove it,
you decrepit old man."
Ah, it's no use.
I can't read this
at all.
Pops!
Read this for me.
I can't find
my glasses.
Um, it says,
"We love the park
and don't want to be fired.
"We're sorry.
Love, Benson and Rigby.
P.S.--" Ah!
"Nice things!"
[LAUGHS NERVOUSLY]
Well,
what a lovely letter!
Especially the nice things
they said at the end.
I forgive them.
I don't know
what I was thinking.
Those two round out
the whole dynamic here.
Where would we be without
a Benson or a Rigby?
Heh, heh. Where, indeed?
Heh, heh.
Ha!
[♪♪♪]
[♪♪♪]