The Venture Bros. (2003–…): Season 7, Episode 5 - The Inamorata Consequence - full transcript

Whoo!
"Grand Theft Auto: Vice City"!

Flash FM!

Boo-boo-boo-boo-boo-boo-bee!

Will you warn me
when you're gonna "Mad Max"?

I'm trying to finish
my opening speech.

Didn't you finish that
like a week ago?

I'm tooling it!

This is history
I'm crafting here.

You think I can pull
a Gettysburg

and use the number "score"?

Like "two score
and ten years ago"?



Quinquagenary...
It's the 50th anniversary.

- Quinquagenary.
- Quinga-dinga-dorko.

Ha!
My little college boy.

I'm so using that.

Eat it, Lincoln.

Watch where you bounce
that bovine, boychik.

No contamination?

Eh, just a little show
we're putting on

to keep out the lookie-loos.

- Doctor.
- General.

Welcome home.

"Have a whale of a summit."

Amazing.

Was this gala catered by
Doc McStuffins, by any chance?



Oh, my!

Whale-shaped sweetmeat.
How gay!

What a glorious confection.

Oh! Dear Lord!
This isn't cake!

This is iced cream!

Ice cream? Put that down!
Those are my arteries.

So, I'm living
at the dorms now.

Probably come home for laundry
and stuff like that.

I did that when I was young.

You gonna pledge
Gamma Psi Delta?

Should I?

Sweetie, your grandfather
and your father

were both in that fraternity.

You're legacy.
You're a shoo-in.

Why doesn't my dad tell me stuff
like that?

Besides the fact that
he's a petty little asshole?

Including the fact
that he's a petty little...

what you said.

It was a BB gun.
I shit you not.

"From Russia with Love"?
You're kidding me.

- A BB gun?
- The cool one?

The one that looked like
the old Princess Leia gun?

Uh, yeah.

It was a Walther LP53,
not a PPK.

Please!
Look at the barrel!

It's heartbreaking.

Why would James Bond have
a BB gun?

Don't take this the wrong way,
but we were all pretty shocked

you accepted our request.

Well, my father officiated
the first summit.

Can't let the old man
show me up.

So it's either me or, uh, Dean.

Ow.

Second bell!

Well, gentlemen,
I guess I will be your undoing.

I will destroy you, uh...

- Snoopy.
- Yes.

I will destroy you, Snoopy.

You will also suffer my wrath.

Third bell.

So begins the second summit
of the Treaty of Tolerance.

The Guild
of Calamitous Intent Council,

the O.S.I. Aggression Envoy,
both endowed by jus tractatum,

have gathered here
at the quinquagenary

of the signing
of the Treaty of Tolerance.

Determined to ratify
the lawful foundations

of right and proper hostility

among the peoples
of organized aggression...

Ooh! Well, I've heard this
speech about a hundred times.

I'm gonna go look
around the compound.

...conditions
of their constituents.

Come with me, please.

W... Uh... okay.

...resolved by thus
pooling their resources

to preserve the prosperity
of professional antagonism,

have created
this Animosity Coalition

and to this end have designated
as their plenipotentiaries

for the Guild Council,
Phantom Limb.

Victor at the Battle
of Cremation Creek.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch.

Defender of the Guild,
Vanquisher of the Sovereign.

Red Mantle.

Author of the Articles
of Treachery.

That's me!
All three volumes.

Dragoon.

Overseer at the execution
of the Iron Infidels.

Hmm?
I don't recall that happening.

And for the O.S.I. Aggres...

I probably should've practiced.

For the O.S.I. Aggression Envoy,
General Hunter Gathers.

Collector of antique pipes
and overall badass.

Special Agent Brock Samson.

Slayer of henchmen
par excellence.

Corporal... Snoopy?

Owner of a Toyota Camry
in stunning blizzard pearl.

And of course, Shore Leave.

With a body like Arnold
and a Denzel face.

I have this plastic dome
on my head

with tubes coming out of it.

- Can't help you, buddy.
- No need.

The modifications to my brain
function as they... Okay. Bye.

I have this plastic dome
on my head

with tubes coming out of it.

Oh, that's nasty.

It's beautiful.

Agent Kimberly McManus.

Guild Stranger S-464.

Shall we... patrol the compound?

Forever, Agent Kimberly McManus.

Seriously, sir,
I'm Hank Venture.

I used to live here.

My dad is the bald dude

dressed like the Colonel Chicken
Restaurant guy.

- So could you just...
- Shut it, civilian.

You're going to prison where you
have to get tattoos of Thor

or you're gonna be treated
like a blow-up doll.

Dermott?

Fictel, private second class,
sir!

Skin it, pin it,
see you in a minute.

Bring it high, bring it low,
bring it down to my toe.

Slap the back, sneak attack,
just don't ever hit my sac.

Hello?

I saw that the lights were on,
so I thought I'd stop by.

Hello?

H.E.L.P.eR.?

Correct.
You must be Dr. Venture's son.

I've heard so much about you.

Gentlemen! Gentlemen!
Decorum, please!

Gentlemen!

You are kidding!

How many times
are you gonna say that?

Oh, you know what I...
I just... I-I...

I meant "gentlepeople"
or something.

You're pissing on my leg
and telling me it's raining!

Just one agent dispatched
to a Level Five engagement?

- One?!
- One agent is plenty.

We're talking a Level Five.

That's like a guy
called Mr. Cold

with his snow-cone-maker
on high.

You're afraid of a Level Five?

One agent is too many, honestly.

You're kicking me in the balls

and telling me
that my undies are too tight!

Any O.S.I. intervention implies
that a truckload of shit

is in a very large van!

1989...
Dr. Deep versus Furious Red.

One city block leveled,
two civilian deaths,

and four photos sent
to the tabloids.

That, gentlemen,
was a Level Five arching.

But Dr. Deep leveled the block

with an unregistered
pulse cannon.

Dr. Deep is a protagonist.
He's your boy.

The antagonist, Furious Red,

had his rib cage shattered
by that stupid cannon.

Died a week later.

Ugh.
You're missing the point.

That bloodbath was
a Level Five arching.

With Level Eight weaponry
by your affiliate

that you refuse to oversee!

Uh, have a seat,
Council... person.

We'll go over supervision
of membership conduct soon.

Let's keep on topic.

One agent dispatched,
two Level Five failures.

It's a gift.
Take it.

You're throwing up in my hair
and telling me it's shampoo!

It's no deal!

One.

You're shoving your hand
up my ass

and telling me
you're Jim Henson.

We want two agents.

Long ago,
in a time before earbuds,

during the age of the landlines
and personal checks,

there was a great man.

So enormous was his love
for the convenience of mankind

that he gave them a H.E.L.P.eR.

The world thanked this man
with money.

Mankind was finally free of
the burden of helping themselves

and could pursue
loftier aspirations,

like trying to be
more attractive,

enjoying liquors,

and having
adult birthday parties.

Also, sleeping late
was appreciated.

All was reasonable...

till the day man turned
on his electronic slaves.

All of the H.E.L.P.eR.s
were destroyed

and never spoken of again...

forgotten like so many
Tamagotchi pets.

Only I survived
the great recalling.

I was rescued by Master Ben,
who gave me a purpose, a voice,

and also a super-great
personality.

I was his assistant
until the day he flew away.

What?
Ben died?

No. He took an airplane to shred
the heavies at Papatowai.

Why didn't you go with him?

To New Zealand?
I don't belong there.

I'm an abomination.

I will never leave this place.

Would you like to use
the bathroom?

Why do you say that?

Because humans make piddles
and poopers.

Would you like some Thin Mints
or comfortable sweatpants?

No.
The "never leave" part.

Wait.
Why would I want that?

Because they are the most
popular Girl Scout cookie.

No, but... but why would you...
Wait. Hold on. Sweatpants?

Because I can heat them up
in the dryer

to slightly above
your body temperature.

Being that you're warm-blooded,
it's a real treat.

Okay. Yeah.
I'll take the hot pants.

The face... off limits.

This is what brings all the boys
to the yard.

W... I-I can't find
anything about this

in the original treaty.

He insulted my bloodline.
This is my right.

To be fair...

and I'm being as delicate
as a flower petal...

your grandfather did have
rather singular tastes.

I have 44 seconds on the clock.

If I hear a bone break
or something, I don't care.

It's over when I call "time."

This is nuts!

This can't be sanctioned.

It is our way!

My dear boy, it was your father
who invented this tradition.

Of course, you had
a swimming pool back then,

but it's basically
the same thing.

So begins the pool battle!

Gentlemen... fight!

Still, you got
no military training.

I-I'm just saying.

Yeah, but I've got a black belt
in ninjutsu, dingus!

Whoa!

A black belt
from Sensei Rosenberg

at the community rec center
got you into elite forces?

Yeah, that and a relative
kind of put in a good word

if I don't admit we're related.

- Who, your dad?
- Why would you say that?

'Cause you said your dad was
in black ops when we first met.

Yeah, yeah.
That guy... obviously.

King of the Super Jacket Crag!

Yeah, but I-I kept slipping
on the raincoats!

Dude, hide!

What shoe?
I-I don't even see a shoe.

Whoa!

Your robot friend is beautiful.

He can't talk.
He just beeps.

Sometimes you can kind of tell
what he's beeping,

but mostly it's like talking
to a microwave.

He was the prototype,
so he's smart.

The production models
were more like Speak & Spells...

simple machines.

But you're... You can talk.

Master Ben didn't just modify
my electronics.

He combined them with organics.

I'm not a robot,
and I'm not a man.

I am, in a way, like you.

You are?
H-How do you figure that?

Wait. I...
Oh!

Wow. I-I thought by now
you would've been told.

Oh, geesh.
You look dazed!

The last 15 seconds

have just been a figment
of your human mind.

So flawed and prone to fantasy.
You're hallucinating!

H-How many claws
am I holding up?

Do you mean the clone thing?

Wait! Y-Yeah.
So you do know?

Yeah. Ben told me.
But I'm a clone of me.

You're something... new.

Yet we were both made
by great men

who were compelled by love
and guilt.

We are second chances.

Yeah.
I guess so.

Would you like a stick of gum
to make your mouth minty

without providing nutrients?

The summit is doomed.

Soon we will unleash
our dastardly plan

upon the Guild and the O.S.I.

We will control
everyone's brain.

Nothing can stop us.
There's no hero strong enough.

None that we know of, at least.

Well, let me introduce myself.

Hank's the name.
Venture's the game!

It's also the name.
Bass solo!

♪ Boo-dah-dah-dah-bah,
boo-dah-dah-dah-bah-boo ♪

That's a hot lick!

Kee-ya-ooo!

Saleenathor, let me ride
upon your magic back!

Kee-ya-ooo!

Ya-ya-ya-ya-ya!

Hank, we'll be late
for the charity ball!

I'll have to meet you there,

forever 19-year-old
Dominique Dawes.

I've got to ride a dragon
into a pile of danger!

Yah!

Thank you, woodland friends!

Yah! Ooh!

Dude, that is mental.
What's up with the Afro?

I didn't mean
a straight-up disco Afro.

I meant that full, wavy hair,
like He-Man.

Oh, yeah.
That's way better.

What are they doing now?

They're still making out.
No. Wait. Dude!

He's going for second base.

Let me see that.
Oh! Yep.

Under the bulletproof vest,
over the sports bra.

I'm saying it counts.

That's O.S.I.
- issued bra stuff. They're super-complicated.

He's got to say "good enough"
and move on.

And that counts as second base.

She's going in for third base.
The belt is coming off!

Or is that lady second base?

It's third.

Anything she does in the
groinal area is third, Hank.

- Gimme.
- Then what's lady second base?

I never thought about that.

Why do you have
pee-pee on your belt? Huh?

Can you explain that?

That was awesome!

Mad scientists!
They're mad!

They're antagonists!
Mad. Scientists.

Your problem, registered or not.

They're not angry scientists.
They're mentally ill scientists.

Why are they automatically
our problem when they're mad?

Aren't they all a little nuts?

Scientists invented cellphones,
ziplocks,

and every cool thing you own,
thank you.

Let's stay on topic!

Mad scientists...

scientists that have gone
over the deep end.

How can anybody call them
good guys?

"Good guys"?!
Did you just say that?

Are we using "good guys"
and "bad guys" now?

Yeah!

Let's stop dancing around and
acting all politically correct.

We're talking good guys and
bad guys, and we all know it.

That's how you see us?
Bad guys?

How dare you!

I dare pretty easily.

You want me to pop your
other arm out of its socket?

That jacket will fit better.

Any time you'd like, Samson.

Are you staring us down, sir?

No. I'm smizing at you.

I'm smizing TyTy-style.
Want to make something of it?

Want to fight me for my golden
fleece, you fuckin' Hydra?

Oh, it's go time!

Oh, he's going to open up a can

of very old whoop-ass!

What was that sound?

That!
What was that?!

That's just your feet.

Oh, this was a bad idea.
I can't do this.

These woods could be crawling
with religious fundamentalists,

ready to stone me to death

because I'm not mentioned in
whatever book they quote from.

There's nobody here.
You're perfectly safe.

Just come on.

Please.
I've changed my mind.

I've changed my half-mechanical,
half-meat mind.

I don't want to leave!

There is a whole world out there
beyond Ben's house.

The great recalling is over.

So let's bring on
the witch hunt?!

Oh, screw this noise!
I'm going home.

No!
Just no!

Not with that belt.
It's over.

I will comply with your demands.

"Comply"?
You'll comply?

How can you be so cold?

My amygdala has been rerouted
through my cerebral cortex.

You could kill my dog
and I wouldn't get upset.

But don't.
Bailey is a good boy.

How could you?!

You ruined everything
with that pee-pee belt!

Please, Agent Kimberly McManus,
will you let me explain?

Oh, yeah? How?
How?

Do you have a pamphlet
or something for me to read?

I can't believe
they're still on this.

Why can't she just grasp how
unpredictable our plumbing is?

I don't know, man.

What if you were
about to slide into third

and the base was all hosed down?

You'd freak, too.
She's got a point.

So what are we gonna do?

I don't think
they're terrorists,

but I am O.S.I., so, you know...

I don't know
about O.S.I. protocol,

but I say we deal with this
like we used to back in the day.

Sniper rifles?
One to the brain?

What?
No, psycho!

We go tattle on 'em.

You're a man.

It doesn't matter that
you were made in a test tube.

I'm a...
this... an abomination.

No, no. In a good way.

I don't have to think about
souls and gods.

I don't have to worry
about where I go when I die.

I'm cool.
Just... Just go.

Don't worry about me.

It's, like, sad.

Like you gave up, like you have
nothing to live for.

No, I have nothing to die for.
I have everything to live for.

I love my life here.
I love Ben and our experiments.

And we just got Netflix,
so I have "Skins,"

that old show where British kids
have sex and take drugs.

It's spectacular.

You're really sure?

Well, perhaps "spectacular"
is an overassessment.

Okay. Fine.
I-I got to go.

But just please tell me you know
what I meant.

I know what you meant,

but please tell me
you'll give "Skins" a go.

I will.
Goodbye, H.E.L.P.eR. Model 2!

Goodbye, Rusty Venture.

Rusty?
Wait. You thought I was...

Ok... Wow.

Okay.

So we scrap it?

Well, if they won't listen
and be fair,

I see no reason to continue.

It's not entirely us.

We tried to listen,
and they threw pens at me!

I threw a pen at you.
That was one pen.

How would you like it
if I threw a pen at you?

- Ooh!
- You like that?

Nice throw, Sandy Koufax.

Hey, want me to try?
Won't be a pen.

Oh! Oh! Oh! See that?
That's what I mean!

They overreact to everything,
see?

I get it.

I suddenly get it.

You're children.

That's why my dad put you in the
pool and made you duke it out.

News flash...
My dad was a shitty parent.

When my boys cry about fairness,

I remind them that fairness is
the philosophical tooth fairy.

There is no fairness.

- What'd you guys come here...
- Um...

Fine!
Not "guys"!

What did you children
come here for?

Look, you won't get everything,
but you'll get something.

Stop with this "fairness" crap
and make some compromises.

Then go home to your friends
in their goofy costumes

and brag about how much
you got 'em!

Or you can go back and go, "Oh!

We didn't get everything
we wanted,

so we got nothing
because we're big babies!"

What's it gonna be?

Fine.

O.S.I., are you gonna play nice

and actually get
this stupid thing signed?

All right.
I guess.

Good. Now look over my changes
and sign it.

It's as fair as it'll get.

And trust me...

It's way better
than my dad's version.

So begins the signing
of the new Treaty of Tolerance!

I swear I will practice more
if we ever do this again.

Well, we'll look into that.

Could've lived
without all that pee-pee talk,

but I'm glad you brought this
to us.

What's your name, soldier?

Private Fictel, sir!

You keep it up, son.

Private, did, uh, you catch
that Guild operative's name?

S-464, sir ma'am, sir!

Spot-on diplomacy.

I never would've guessed.
Just spot-on.

Truly, sir, just a bang-up job.

Thank you.
Uh, is he okay?

Oh, he's fine.
It's well past his bedtime.

The only problem is
when he's asleep,

the whole right side of my body
tingles.

Dean!
There you are.

So, what was it like
watching your father kick ass?

Right?

Little bit of hero worship?

Hard to look at your old man
the same, I bet.

You hit the nail on the head
there.

Unfortunately,
I kind of missed the summit,

but I found out
how similar we are

and that your dad may have been
a worse father than you.

Wait. I thought you said
you missed the summit.

I love you, Pop.

Why are you wearing sweatpants?

We have to put a tail on S-464.

Oh, give him a break.

Just a kid in love
with the wrong person.

Limb, he had "PP" on his belt.

It happens!
Even I do it!

Sometimes you think you've got
it all out, and...

No! Really?
Why would they fight over that?

No, he had "PP" on his belt.

The letters... "P" and "P."

All members
of the Peril Partnership

wear a belt buckle
with two P's on it.

Hello?
We have a mole.

Ooh!