Turbo FAST (2013) s01e05 Episode Script
Ants Ants Revolution; Clamsquatch
1 [engines rev.]
# - Whoa! - Woo! # Those snails are fast - # Turbo - F-A-S-T # That's the team you'll never beat Turbo, he got super speed Whiplash, he jets to the lead Skidmark, propeller flow Chet's safe, he'll take it slow Smoove Move with them speakers, baby Burn burnin' that fire crazy White Shadow, big with no fear Now you know the team is here There they go, gone in a flash - # Those snails are fast - Turbo # - # Those snails are fast - Whoa! # - # Those snails are fast - Whoa! # Those snails are fast, fast, fast, fast, fast - # Turbo - Woo! # [rumbling.]
[rumbling.]
Earthquake! Everyone get under a desk! Do we have desks? Quick, someone order a bunch of desks! It's not an earthquake.
It's an invasion.
[loud marching footsteps.]
What the heck are those things? Bad news, garden snail.
Fire ants.
[ants.]
We are the ants.
This territory is ours.
You will fall before us.
Emergency Defense Plan Omega One! - Do we have one of those? - No! Well, how about we use Whiplash Defense Plan One? Go kick some ants! [all screaming.]
[ants.]
Your homes will be infested.
Infest this! [slap.]
[rumbling.]
Whoa! - Yikes! - Oh! Oh, no! [ants.]
All your tomatoes are belong to us.
Not a chance, ants.
[rock music plays.]
White Shadow! Oof! Oh! - Oh! - [ants.]
Reconfigure.
Oh, no! Not hammer time.
[loud pounding.]
[ants.]
Yum.
Picnics.
Our favorite.
[tires screech.]
Sorry.
Your picnic's been canceled.
Due to high winds! [ants.]
Reconfigure.
Not cool! So not cool! Please tell me you have a Whiplash Defense Plan Two.
Of course I do! - Attention, you punk-ant chumps! - You tell 'em! - We surrender! - [all.]
We what?! [ants.]
Your surrender is accepted.
[rumbling.]
Uh, I was kinda expecting you to tell 'em something else.
Wait for it Hello! [ants.]
All hail Queen Invicta! Yes, yes, all hail me! Subjects, the royal carpet! [grunting, groaning.]
Perfect! I was hoping to draw out the queen.
I knew it was a trap.
It is a trap, right? Or at the very least a ploy? Garden snail, I always have a move up my sleeve.
Or I would if I wore sleeves.
Which I don't.
But if I did, I'd look good.
[stomping.]
[ants groaning.]
So, this is my new city.
Ooh! That would make a lovely egg closet.
And I do like the cinema.
But that racetrack has got to go! Uh, hold up, Your Highnessty! I invoke the Fire Ant Rite of Challenge! Problem is you need to have a Queen and I don't see one.
Unless it's that fat snail hovering up there.
I'm a guy! Why don't people see that? Don't worry, Boo.
I got this! Yo, I'm Queen Burn.
'Sup? Sweetie, don't rile the ginormous fire ant! Backeth off, Boo.
I'm getting my royalness on.
If she is royalty, then I'm a honeybee.
Your butt's big enough.
How do you keep your subjects in line? Threaten to sit on 'em? [rattling.]
[chuckles.]
What a charmer.
I bet the boys salt themselves just to avoid a second date with you.
Uh, can we get back to the rite of challenge? Queen Burn chooses racing as her form of contest.
Hm a peasant's choice, but accepted.
And as the challenged, I have choice of track, so my royal minions will build one for us tonight.
And tomorrow, I crush you on it! Subjects, laugh maniacally.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
[Queen cackling.]
OK, the big question is, if the ants are building the track, how does Burn beat them? No, the big question is, how do we protect her? There was talk of crushing! Crushing is bad for you! - Chet, I can handle - And those ants! They can shift into anything! They're shifty, I tell ya! Chet! I know you're trying to help, but every time you speak, all I hear is, "Burn can't handle herself! Blah, blah, blah!" Well, what I hear is, "Chet cares too much!" And then a much more loving, "Blah, blah, blah!" Boo, I'm about to run the biggest race of my life.
- And the most dangerous.
- I know, so I need to concentrate.
I don't have time to worry about you worrying about me.
Is that what I am? A distraction? - A cute distraction, but, yeah.
- Oh, I see.
Well, if my trying to help is a problem for you, I can take care of that.
- Thank you.
- I'll just leave.
No, wait, that's not what I [sighs.]
Chet, this is Chet, do you read me? Over.
I read you, Chet, go ahead.
Over.
We're not scouting the ant racetrack for Burn after she specifically told you to stop trying to help her, are we? Over.
Of course not.
It's a total coincidence we are flying this way.
Over.
[marching footsteps.]
Hold the phone, Chet.
What's the Queen doing out here? Ugh! Salt! She has them building a salt pit! They'll lure Burn into it and [Burn screaming.]
No! Chet to Chet.
Get out of there.
Over.
Uh-oh.
They're building something else! It looks like a spoon.
No a catapult! Mayday.
Mayday! [crashing.]
[cheering.]
[over P.
A.
.]
Mel Shellman here in what could be my last race before a life of slavery to an insect queen.
And might I say, she is looking very attractive tonight, not at all like a monarch who'd make an announcer do manual labor.
Anybody seen Chet? Not that I'm worried about him or anything.
It is strange that he isn't here worrying about you.
That's what I'm worried about! I mean, if I was worried.
Oh, your boyfriend has disappeared? This happens to you a lot, I'll bet.
Talk smack all you want, it's just you and me now.
Not exactly.
Race fans, we are just seconds from the start! [beeping.]
[engine revving.]
And there they go! Loyal subjects? Phase one! Whoa! [grunting.]
Oh-ho! Is that how it's gonna be? [snoring.]
But Mom, I don't want any tomato pie, I want banana.
Huh? What? Where am I? The race! I have to warn Burn! - You're not going anywhere.
- That's what you th Hey, I thought you guys all talked in unison.
[ants.]
We just do that to creep people out.
Very effective.
Now, if you'll just excuse me, I have a girl to simultaneously rescue and anger.
[ants.]
Your flight will not be allowed.
Try and stop me.
How quaint.
[chuckles.]
Subjects, phase two! If you think a little sand is gonna stop me, your crown is on too tight.
Ow, ow, ow! - Hiya, honey.
- Chet! There you are! I have not been incredibly worried about you! Now get out of here! Honey, I I'll never catch her like this.
Hey, look! An unattended picnic! [ants.]
Picnic.
Where? - Ah! - Ants and their picnics.
[cackles.]
Oh, no, I don't like the sound of that.
Oh, no! Whoa! [screaming.]
- I gotcha, baby! - Chet! Yes, I know, I'm wrong to help.
You can yell at me more later.
Right now, you gotta go kick her ants! It looks like an easy win for Queen Invicta and the end of our entire way of life.
What's this? Burn is coming from behind! Salt? Really? It just goes to show, you never send a couple thousand minions to do a Queen's job.
Fire ants, ignite! [all screaming.]
[laughs.]
Oh, so, it's gonna be like that now, is it? [laughing.]
Oh! Ow! [screams.]
[tires screech.]
Never try to out-burn Burn! [plop.]
- [ants.]
We will sink and drown.
- Oh, do be quiet! And use your carcasses to form a raft for me.
[Mel.]
And the winner is Burn! But perhaps the real winner today is freedom.
Don't you think, Charlie? [ants.]
All hail Queen Burn! Oh, yeah! I could get used to that.
For my first act as Queen, I order the whole colony to move to Alaska! And take this bubble-butted burn-out with you.
[ants.]
We obey! [sobbing.]
You haven't seen the last of me! [ants.]
Yes, she has.
- And my second act as Queen - Here comes my knighthood! Here comes my banishment.
is to order Chet to never stop worrying about me.
- OK, Boo? - I couldn't if I tried, honey.
- That's Queen Honey.
- Yes, Your Majesty.
I guess that makes me the King! [yelling.]
I don't see no ring on this eyestalk! Burn.
[Cajun music plays.]
[laughing.]
Jazz music, dancin' mudbugs, the sweet smell of the swamp Oh, yeah, we are in Crawfish Country.
Oh, no! What kind of snail do you think I am? Par-tay! - White Shadow! - I say, hello there, city snails! I am Colonel Bovane, the organizer for tomorrow's race.
And this here is our seven-time reigning champion - Cajun Cliché? - [laughs.]
That's funny, yeah.
He's some kind of funny, him.
No, it's pronounced "Cleech.
" None of that fancy French stuff for me.
Now I know, it ain't exactly the Indy 500, but the Mississippi Mudder Race and Okra Cook-Off is our pride and joy.
Did you say okra? I like okra.
Where's this okra? Fried okra! And sautéed okra.
Oh, and okra cakes.
And okra flambé.
I also like the hot and spicy okra balls.
[laughs.]
Well, it looks like this boy is bodaciously enamored of his okra, is he not? Well, you're in luck, cuz down 'round the finish line, the best okra chefs in the whole Bayou are gonna be cookin' up their signature dishes.
Say it with me: yum! - O-O-Okra - Now that's just unsettlin'.
Here we have the course map.
Most racers opt to take the fire road down 'round here.
What if someone just cut straight through here, the Stankwater Swamp? [all laughing.]
Oh, you're serious? Bit of friendly advice for you city slickers: the Stankwater Swamp should be avoided at all costs.
Everybody 'round here knows it's home to a bonafide Clamsquatch.
- Oh! - What in Dixie is a Clamsquatch? Glad you asked Hit it, boys! Well listen up y'all And I'ma tell you a tale Of a beast that'll eat any mudbug or snail Carnivorous clam with the foot of a beaver And big ole gator teeth as sharp as a cleaver So take it from a racer who remain unbeaten Stay outta that swamp Lest you wanna get eaten - Hoo-hoo! - A giant clam? With gator teeth and the foot of a beaver? It's true! Clamsquatch is a legitimate fact-based rumor.
The only real question is whether or not he has laser eyes.
Laser eyes? Who buys into that nonsense? Me.
And the other members of the International Association of Clamsquatch.
- All right, just me.
- He's getting worse.
Well, come on, guys.
We better rest up for tomorrow.
Well, all right, but y'all give a holler now if you hear that Clamsquatch a-growlin'.
[low growling.]
[growling continues.]
Sorry.
All that okra talk made me hungry.
[all snoring.]
Okra [glass shattering, crashing.]
[heavy footsteps stomping.]
I'm not scared! Hooey! This was one ragin' Cajun par-tay.
This was no party, this has all the markings - of a classic Clamsquatch attack! - Why, he's right! Look at this here suspicious tuft of hair.
And look at this footprint! Ooh, he's a big boy.
I saw it I saw the Clamsquatch! - Oh, did he have laser eyes? - I didn't rightly see.
I just saw him trash this place and make off into the swamp.
- Why would Clamsquatch attack the camp? - Because he hates racing.
Hello.
He's a clam! Duh.
Now, now, hold on, let's not be hasty.
Clamsquatch probably just wanted some leftover gumbo.
So long as we stay out of that swamp tomorrow, I reckon we'll be just fine.
Hmm [rustling.]
Clamsquatch? Yah! Yipe! [crowd cheering.]
Look alive, snails, it's race time! Aw, yeah.
In the zone.
Guys, guys! I found a note on Skidmark's pillow.
"Went to confirm Clamsquatch has laser eyes.
Be back in the morning.
Don't let White Shadow eat my breakfast tomato.
" Uh what was that last part? Racers, take your marks! OK, this isn't good.
Skidmark should've been back by now.
- We've gotta go find him.
- Yo, man, what about the race? This is more important.
We've gotta go into that swamp.
Now get! - Cliche? - Now, I could not help but overhear your predicament.
Now if y'all city slickers are journeyin' into that particular swamp, well, my sense of duty compels me to act as your guide.
All right, then.
It's time for Operation "Find Skidmark.
" Because He Went Into a Swamp and Might Get Eaten by a Clamsquatch.
Naming things is not your strong suit.
[insects chirping, owl hooting.]
[slow, spooky music plays.]
Dang, Smoove, you gotta play that creepy music? Hey, you know I pick the modulations that fit the situations.
Shouldn't we be leaving a trail or something so we can find our way back? Now, don't you worry yourself about that.
As long as I'm here, I'll navigate you rightly.
I swear it on my dear fat granny's shell.
[rustling.]
Clamsquatch! Cliche, you got a net or something? - Cliche? - He's gone, baby! The Clamsquatch must've got him! [rustling.]
This is it.
Snails, prepare yourselves! Smoove, if we don't make it, there's something you should know: - you've always been my favorite.
- Baby, I'm everybody's favorite.
[muffled shouting.]
- Skidmark! - He wasn't eaten, he was Skid-napped! - Clamsquatch did this? - No, it was Cajun Cliche! Cliche?! But he swore on his dear fat granny's shell! OK, what exactly happened, Skid? When I went into the swamp to look for Clamsquatch last night, Cliche grabbed me and left me out here for gator bait.
That means Clamsquatch and Cliche are in cahoots? No! Don't you see? There never was a Clamsquatch.
Cliche made it all up to scare us away from his shortcut through the swamp.
But when Skidmark decided to go into the swamp anyway, Cliche had to change his plans.
So he tied Skid up, then ditched us out here so he could win the race.
Well, let's put some pep in our step and keep that dirty mudbug from winning.
How? Even if we found our way back to the main road, we'd never catch up.
[sobbing.]
It's OK, big man.
I didn't know you cared this - much about the race.
- [sobbing.]
I, I don't I just can't believe I'm gonna miss the Okra Cook-Off! [sniffing.]
I can almost smell the delicious Cajun-fried okra, like it was only 237 yards North-Northwest of here.
Wait, that's it! We can follow Shadow's nose to the finish line.
[Smoove Move.]
Aw, yeah! That's how we glide with the tide.
Okra, that-a-way! [goose honking.]
Ah! [all screaming.]
[all shouting.]
[Burn.]
You chomp like chumps! [all shouting.]
[all grunting, shouting.]
Well, looky here, we got our first racer, and it's Cajun Cliche! I don't know how he does it! [crowd screaming.]
Thank y'all! Thank y'all! [all screaming, grunting.]
What?! How did they? [Bovane.]
And here come them city snails, lookin' to make this a race! You're going down, Cliche! Like an elevator.
That's, that's broken.
So it doesn't go up.
- It only goes down.
- Oh! [shouting.]
Ho-ho! Snailed it! [crowd cheering.]
And we have a new champion! White Shadow.
Shadow? How did you get here so fast? They had okra pie.
Mm Okra pie that should fill me up [swallows.]
guess not.
[Turbo.]
And then he tried ditching us in the middle of the swamp.
Suppose this Clamsquatch nonsense is how Cliche has been winning all these years.
Guess we won't be seeing that ole snaggletooth around here anymore.
Ooh! This is gonna teach them city snails to mess with Cajun Cliche.
OK, maybe this gonna teach 'em.
Whoo! Ow! Oof! [buzzing sound.]
[growling.]
[screaming.]
Ow! [grunting.]
Laser eyes.
I knew it! Yeah, we havin' a party at the bar.
[music plays.]
[all cheering.]
[Whiplash.]
Yeah! We doin' it Cajun style, baby! How low can you go?
# - Whoa! - Woo! # Those snails are fast - # Turbo - F-A-S-T # That's the team you'll never beat Turbo, he got super speed Whiplash, he jets to the lead Skidmark, propeller flow Chet's safe, he'll take it slow Smoove Move with them speakers, baby Burn burnin' that fire crazy White Shadow, big with no fear Now you know the team is here There they go, gone in a flash - # Those snails are fast - Turbo # - # Those snails are fast - Whoa! # - # Those snails are fast - Whoa! # Those snails are fast, fast, fast, fast, fast - # Turbo - Woo! # [rumbling.]
[rumbling.]
Earthquake! Everyone get under a desk! Do we have desks? Quick, someone order a bunch of desks! It's not an earthquake.
It's an invasion.
[loud marching footsteps.]
What the heck are those things? Bad news, garden snail.
Fire ants.
[ants.]
We are the ants.
This territory is ours.
You will fall before us.
Emergency Defense Plan Omega One! - Do we have one of those? - No! Well, how about we use Whiplash Defense Plan One? Go kick some ants! [all screaming.]
[ants.]
Your homes will be infested.
Infest this! [slap.]
[rumbling.]
Whoa! - Yikes! - Oh! Oh, no! [ants.]
All your tomatoes are belong to us.
Not a chance, ants.
[rock music plays.]
White Shadow! Oof! Oh! - Oh! - [ants.]
Reconfigure.
Oh, no! Not hammer time.
[loud pounding.]
[ants.]
Yum.
Picnics.
Our favorite.
[tires screech.]
Sorry.
Your picnic's been canceled.
Due to high winds! [ants.]
Reconfigure.
Not cool! So not cool! Please tell me you have a Whiplash Defense Plan Two.
Of course I do! - Attention, you punk-ant chumps! - You tell 'em! - We surrender! - [all.]
We what?! [ants.]
Your surrender is accepted.
[rumbling.]
Uh, I was kinda expecting you to tell 'em something else.
Wait for it Hello! [ants.]
All hail Queen Invicta! Yes, yes, all hail me! Subjects, the royal carpet! [grunting, groaning.]
Perfect! I was hoping to draw out the queen.
I knew it was a trap.
It is a trap, right? Or at the very least a ploy? Garden snail, I always have a move up my sleeve.
Or I would if I wore sleeves.
Which I don't.
But if I did, I'd look good.
[stomping.]
[ants groaning.]
So, this is my new city.
Ooh! That would make a lovely egg closet.
And I do like the cinema.
But that racetrack has got to go! Uh, hold up, Your Highnessty! I invoke the Fire Ant Rite of Challenge! Problem is you need to have a Queen and I don't see one.
Unless it's that fat snail hovering up there.
I'm a guy! Why don't people see that? Don't worry, Boo.
I got this! Yo, I'm Queen Burn.
'Sup? Sweetie, don't rile the ginormous fire ant! Backeth off, Boo.
I'm getting my royalness on.
If she is royalty, then I'm a honeybee.
Your butt's big enough.
How do you keep your subjects in line? Threaten to sit on 'em? [rattling.]
[chuckles.]
What a charmer.
I bet the boys salt themselves just to avoid a second date with you.
Uh, can we get back to the rite of challenge? Queen Burn chooses racing as her form of contest.
Hm a peasant's choice, but accepted.
And as the challenged, I have choice of track, so my royal minions will build one for us tonight.
And tomorrow, I crush you on it! Subjects, laugh maniacally.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
[Queen cackling.]
OK, the big question is, if the ants are building the track, how does Burn beat them? No, the big question is, how do we protect her? There was talk of crushing! Crushing is bad for you! - Chet, I can handle - And those ants! They can shift into anything! They're shifty, I tell ya! Chet! I know you're trying to help, but every time you speak, all I hear is, "Burn can't handle herself! Blah, blah, blah!" Well, what I hear is, "Chet cares too much!" And then a much more loving, "Blah, blah, blah!" Boo, I'm about to run the biggest race of my life.
- And the most dangerous.
- I know, so I need to concentrate.
I don't have time to worry about you worrying about me.
Is that what I am? A distraction? - A cute distraction, but, yeah.
- Oh, I see.
Well, if my trying to help is a problem for you, I can take care of that.
- Thank you.
- I'll just leave.
No, wait, that's not what I [sighs.]
Chet, this is Chet, do you read me? Over.
I read you, Chet, go ahead.
Over.
We're not scouting the ant racetrack for Burn after she specifically told you to stop trying to help her, are we? Over.
Of course not.
It's a total coincidence we are flying this way.
Over.
[marching footsteps.]
Hold the phone, Chet.
What's the Queen doing out here? Ugh! Salt! She has them building a salt pit! They'll lure Burn into it and [Burn screaming.]
No! Chet to Chet.
Get out of there.
Over.
Uh-oh.
They're building something else! It looks like a spoon.
No a catapult! Mayday.
Mayday! [crashing.]
[cheering.]
[over P.
A.
.]
Mel Shellman here in what could be my last race before a life of slavery to an insect queen.
And might I say, she is looking very attractive tonight, not at all like a monarch who'd make an announcer do manual labor.
Anybody seen Chet? Not that I'm worried about him or anything.
It is strange that he isn't here worrying about you.
That's what I'm worried about! I mean, if I was worried.
Oh, your boyfriend has disappeared? This happens to you a lot, I'll bet.
Talk smack all you want, it's just you and me now.
Not exactly.
Race fans, we are just seconds from the start! [beeping.]
[engine revving.]
And there they go! Loyal subjects? Phase one! Whoa! [grunting.]
Oh-ho! Is that how it's gonna be? [snoring.]
But Mom, I don't want any tomato pie, I want banana.
Huh? What? Where am I? The race! I have to warn Burn! - You're not going anywhere.
- That's what you th Hey, I thought you guys all talked in unison.
[ants.]
We just do that to creep people out.
Very effective.
Now, if you'll just excuse me, I have a girl to simultaneously rescue and anger.
[ants.]
Your flight will not be allowed.
Try and stop me.
How quaint.
[chuckles.]
Subjects, phase two! If you think a little sand is gonna stop me, your crown is on too tight.
Ow, ow, ow! - Hiya, honey.
- Chet! There you are! I have not been incredibly worried about you! Now get out of here! Honey, I I'll never catch her like this.
Hey, look! An unattended picnic! [ants.]
Picnic.
Where? - Ah! - Ants and their picnics.
[cackles.]
Oh, no, I don't like the sound of that.
Oh, no! Whoa! [screaming.]
- I gotcha, baby! - Chet! Yes, I know, I'm wrong to help.
You can yell at me more later.
Right now, you gotta go kick her ants! It looks like an easy win for Queen Invicta and the end of our entire way of life.
What's this? Burn is coming from behind! Salt? Really? It just goes to show, you never send a couple thousand minions to do a Queen's job.
Fire ants, ignite! [all screaming.]
[laughs.]
Oh, so, it's gonna be like that now, is it? [laughing.]
Oh! Ow! [screams.]
[tires screech.]
Never try to out-burn Burn! [plop.]
- [ants.]
We will sink and drown.
- Oh, do be quiet! And use your carcasses to form a raft for me.
[Mel.]
And the winner is Burn! But perhaps the real winner today is freedom.
Don't you think, Charlie? [ants.]
All hail Queen Burn! Oh, yeah! I could get used to that.
For my first act as Queen, I order the whole colony to move to Alaska! And take this bubble-butted burn-out with you.
[ants.]
We obey! [sobbing.]
You haven't seen the last of me! [ants.]
Yes, she has.
- And my second act as Queen - Here comes my knighthood! Here comes my banishment.
is to order Chet to never stop worrying about me.
- OK, Boo? - I couldn't if I tried, honey.
- That's Queen Honey.
- Yes, Your Majesty.
I guess that makes me the King! [yelling.]
I don't see no ring on this eyestalk! Burn.
[Cajun music plays.]
[laughing.]
Jazz music, dancin' mudbugs, the sweet smell of the swamp Oh, yeah, we are in Crawfish Country.
Oh, no! What kind of snail do you think I am? Par-tay! - White Shadow! - I say, hello there, city snails! I am Colonel Bovane, the organizer for tomorrow's race.
And this here is our seven-time reigning champion - Cajun Cliché? - [laughs.]
That's funny, yeah.
He's some kind of funny, him.
No, it's pronounced "Cleech.
" None of that fancy French stuff for me.
Now I know, it ain't exactly the Indy 500, but the Mississippi Mudder Race and Okra Cook-Off is our pride and joy.
Did you say okra? I like okra.
Where's this okra? Fried okra! And sautéed okra.
Oh, and okra cakes.
And okra flambé.
I also like the hot and spicy okra balls.
[laughs.]
Well, it looks like this boy is bodaciously enamored of his okra, is he not? Well, you're in luck, cuz down 'round the finish line, the best okra chefs in the whole Bayou are gonna be cookin' up their signature dishes.
Say it with me: yum! - O-O-Okra - Now that's just unsettlin'.
Here we have the course map.
Most racers opt to take the fire road down 'round here.
What if someone just cut straight through here, the Stankwater Swamp? [all laughing.]
Oh, you're serious? Bit of friendly advice for you city slickers: the Stankwater Swamp should be avoided at all costs.
Everybody 'round here knows it's home to a bonafide Clamsquatch.
- Oh! - What in Dixie is a Clamsquatch? Glad you asked Hit it, boys! Well listen up y'all And I'ma tell you a tale Of a beast that'll eat any mudbug or snail Carnivorous clam with the foot of a beaver And big ole gator teeth as sharp as a cleaver So take it from a racer who remain unbeaten Stay outta that swamp Lest you wanna get eaten - Hoo-hoo! - A giant clam? With gator teeth and the foot of a beaver? It's true! Clamsquatch is a legitimate fact-based rumor.
The only real question is whether or not he has laser eyes.
Laser eyes? Who buys into that nonsense? Me.
And the other members of the International Association of Clamsquatch.
- All right, just me.
- He's getting worse.
Well, come on, guys.
We better rest up for tomorrow.
Well, all right, but y'all give a holler now if you hear that Clamsquatch a-growlin'.
[low growling.]
[growling continues.]
Sorry.
All that okra talk made me hungry.
[all snoring.]
Okra [glass shattering, crashing.]
[heavy footsteps stomping.]
I'm not scared! Hooey! This was one ragin' Cajun par-tay.
This was no party, this has all the markings - of a classic Clamsquatch attack! - Why, he's right! Look at this here suspicious tuft of hair.
And look at this footprint! Ooh, he's a big boy.
I saw it I saw the Clamsquatch! - Oh, did he have laser eyes? - I didn't rightly see.
I just saw him trash this place and make off into the swamp.
- Why would Clamsquatch attack the camp? - Because he hates racing.
Hello.
He's a clam! Duh.
Now, now, hold on, let's not be hasty.
Clamsquatch probably just wanted some leftover gumbo.
So long as we stay out of that swamp tomorrow, I reckon we'll be just fine.
Hmm [rustling.]
Clamsquatch? Yah! Yipe! [crowd cheering.]
Look alive, snails, it's race time! Aw, yeah.
In the zone.
Guys, guys! I found a note on Skidmark's pillow.
"Went to confirm Clamsquatch has laser eyes.
Be back in the morning.
Don't let White Shadow eat my breakfast tomato.
" Uh what was that last part? Racers, take your marks! OK, this isn't good.
Skidmark should've been back by now.
- We've gotta go find him.
- Yo, man, what about the race? This is more important.
We've gotta go into that swamp.
Now get! - Cliche? - Now, I could not help but overhear your predicament.
Now if y'all city slickers are journeyin' into that particular swamp, well, my sense of duty compels me to act as your guide.
All right, then.
It's time for Operation "Find Skidmark.
" Because He Went Into a Swamp and Might Get Eaten by a Clamsquatch.
Naming things is not your strong suit.
[insects chirping, owl hooting.]
[slow, spooky music plays.]
Dang, Smoove, you gotta play that creepy music? Hey, you know I pick the modulations that fit the situations.
Shouldn't we be leaving a trail or something so we can find our way back? Now, don't you worry yourself about that.
As long as I'm here, I'll navigate you rightly.
I swear it on my dear fat granny's shell.
[rustling.]
Clamsquatch! Cliche, you got a net or something? - Cliche? - He's gone, baby! The Clamsquatch must've got him! [rustling.]
This is it.
Snails, prepare yourselves! Smoove, if we don't make it, there's something you should know: - you've always been my favorite.
- Baby, I'm everybody's favorite.
[muffled shouting.]
- Skidmark! - He wasn't eaten, he was Skid-napped! - Clamsquatch did this? - No, it was Cajun Cliche! Cliche?! But he swore on his dear fat granny's shell! OK, what exactly happened, Skid? When I went into the swamp to look for Clamsquatch last night, Cliche grabbed me and left me out here for gator bait.
That means Clamsquatch and Cliche are in cahoots? No! Don't you see? There never was a Clamsquatch.
Cliche made it all up to scare us away from his shortcut through the swamp.
But when Skidmark decided to go into the swamp anyway, Cliche had to change his plans.
So he tied Skid up, then ditched us out here so he could win the race.
Well, let's put some pep in our step and keep that dirty mudbug from winning.
How? Even if we found our way back to the main road, we'd never catch up.
[sobbing.]
It's OK, big man.
I didn't know you cared this - much about the race.
- [sobbing.]
I, I don't I just can't believe I'm gonna miss the Okra Cook-Off! [sniffing.]
I can almost smell the delicious Cajun-fried okra, like it was only 237 yards North-Northwest of here.
Wait, that's it! We can follow Shadow's nose to the finish line.
[Smoove Move.]
Aw, yeah! That's how we glide with the tide.
Okra, that-a-way! [goose honking.]
Ah! [all screaming.]
[all shouting.]
[Burn.]
You chomp like chumps! [all shouting.]
[all grunting, shouting.]
Well, looky here, we got our first racer, and it's Cajun Cliche! I don't know how he does it! [crowd screaming.]
Thank y'all! Thank y'all! [all screaming, grunting.]
What?! How did they? [Bovane.]
And here come them city snails, lookin' to make this a race! You're going down, Cliche! Like an elevator.
That's, that's broken.
So it doesn't go up.
- It only goes down.
- Oh! [shouting.]
Ho-ho! Snailed it! [crowd cheering.]
And we have a new champion! White Shadow.
Shadow? How did you get here so fast? They had okra pie.
Mm Okra pie that should fill me up [swallows.]
guess not.
[Turbo.]
And then he tried ditching us in the middle of the swamp.
Suppose this Clamsquatch nonsense is how Cliche has been winning all these years.
Guess we won't be seeing that ole snaggletooth around here anymore.
Ooh! This is gonna teach them city snails to mess with Cajun Cliche.
OK, maybe this gonna teach 'em.
Whoo! Ow! Oof! [buzzing sound.]
[growling.]
[screaming.]
Ow! [grunting.]
Laser eyes.
I knew it! Yeah, we havin' a party at the bar.
[music plays.]
[all cheering.]
[Whiplash.]
Yeah! We doin' it Cajun style, baby! How low can you go?