Ben 10: Omniverse (2012) s02e03 Episode Script

2x03 - O Mother, Where Art Thou? [explosion.]
Octagon: [cackles.]
It is true what they say, Boid.
Museums provide an edifying and uplifting cultural experience.
Rhomboid: Sure uplifted us some quality preowned weapons.
[Tires screech.]
Ben: The Vreedle Brothers?! Both: Ben Tennyson?! Rook: Why are you yelling each other's names? Rhomboid: Well, he started it.
[Grunts.]
[Beep.]
Octagon: Whoa! [Cellphone ringing.]
You gonna get that? [Cellphone beeps.]
Ben? Four Arms: Can't really talk now, Mom.
I've kind of got my hands full.
Octagon: Aw, it's your mama.
You forget to clean your room? Ha ha! Four Arms: [grunts.]
Octagon: [grunts.]
Four Arms: Hands not so full now.
What's up? Rook: [grunts.]
Four Arms: Mom, later.
Gotta go! Rook: [grunting.]
Rhomboid: Gonna blow you up real good.
How does this work again, Octagon? Octagon: Pull the pin and toss it.
[Both gasp.]
Rook: [grunts.]
Rhomboid: [grunts.]
Hmm.
I think it's a dud.
Octagon: Unfortunately, Boid, it is the part you've retained what does the exploding.
[explosion.]
Ben 10 he's a kid, and he wants to have fun but when you need a superhero, he gets the job done Ben 10 with a device that he wears on his arm he can change his shape and save the world from harm when trouble's taking place he gets right in its face Ben 10 when lives are on the line it's hero time Ben 10 [Both grunt.]
[Cellphone rings, beeps.]
Ben: Mom, hi.
Uh, sorry about before.
You didn't forget, did you? You're coming home for dinner? Ben: Yes.
I've just been buried in work.
Ooh, be sure to bring that nice Rook with you again.
He loves my cooking.
Ben: That makes one of us I mean, both of us very happy.
See you soon.
[Cellphone beeps.]
Rook: It appears we have met the Vreedles for the last time.
Ben: Don't count on it.
[Frogs croaking.]
[Rooster crows.]
Rhomboid: Whoo! Man, we got blowed up real good, huh? Which begs the question how come we's still alive and such? Octagon: 'Cause whenever we get blowed up or otherwise perish, our memories and whatnot gets transferred into freshly cloned um clones such as ourselves.
Rhomboid: Modern technology is indeed a marvel.
Ma: 'Bout time you two showed up for dinner.
Real nice keeping your poor starving baby brothers a-waitin'.
[Grunts.]
Ma: Now make yourselves useful for a change and keep an eye on my pretty boys while I fetch the grub.
[Laughs.]
Big brothers.
Rhomboid: Why they looking at us all funny-like, Octagon? Octagon: I believe they regard us as role models, Boid, and them's expressions of deep respect.
Ow! Rhomboid: Hey, now! [Indistinct shouting, Laughter.]
Rhomboid: Huh? [Laughter.]
Octagon: [grunts.]
Respect can be conveyed in any number of different ways.
Rhomboid: M-a-a-a-a-a! Ma: You boys play nice, you hear?! Dinner's a-comin'.
[Bell dings.]
Dinner's just about ready.
Ben: And I'll bet it's extra healthy, as in extra [gags.]
Ben, you'll be happy to know I made your favorite.
Ben: Chili fries? Yes, but without the chili or the fries.
This is a steamed tofu and wheat germ lightly drizzled with an algae puree.
Rook: As always, your unconventional Earth cuisine is multi-textured and scrumptious, Mrs.
Tennyson.
[Chomping.]
Ben: Mm-hmm.
Ma: Gives me a warm feeling to see how much you pretty boys love your ma's cooking.
Dig in! [All chomping.]
Quit hogging all the grub! You ought to be ashamed, taking food out of the mouths of your baby brothers! Both: Sorry, Ma.
Ma: You're sorry, all right couple of sorry disappointments, and you know why? Octagon: Um because our hygiene isn't what you would call "up to community standards"? Ma: No! On account of you're the poorest excuses for criminals I ever seen! But 'tain't all your fault, seeing as there's only two of you and only one brain betweens you both.
Octagon: Boid, what ma just articulated has made a light bulb go off in my head.
Rhomboid: Uh, I don't see no light in there, Octagon.
Octagon: I means to say she is correct.
Gang-wise, we are deficient to the tune of one.
Now, if we was to procure us a third member Rhomboid: I wouldn't trust nobody that wasn't kin.
Octagon: Look around.
We're lousy with kin.
Just needs to swipe one of these pretty boys and make him one of us.
Rhomboid: You see, now, that is such a dumb idea, I should've come up with it myself.
[Chomping.]
Octagon: Bye, Ma.
Hate to not eat and run.
Ma: Hold it right there.
Where's my kiss goodbye? Octagon: [smooches.]
Uh, Boid here's got a touch of gassy indigestion from the heady aroma of your delicious grub.
Rhomboid: [burps.]
Ohh.
Pardon.
[Smooches.]
Ma: they ain't the sharpest clones in the chamber that's for darn sure.
Rhomboid: You don't reckon Ma's gonna be a mite perturbed - when she finds out what we've done? - Octagon: Highly unlikely, Boid.
She got so many pretty boys, she won't never notice one missing.
Rook: [chomping.]
[Beep.]
Magister Patelliday on the emergency frequency.
Ben: Tell me you need us right away please.
Urgency! On a rampage! Destroying the whole Aah! [Beep.]
Ben: Mom, we have to go save the universe or something! Give me a minute and I'll wrap up your leftovers! [Door closes.]
That's okay! I'll bring them to you! What are mothers for? Aah! [Grunts.]
[Grunts.]
[Grunts.]
Ma: [grunts.]
Where is he? Fork him over now, or I'll rip y'all limb from limb! - Ben: Ma Vreedle?! - Ma: You.
[Grunts.]
[Beep.]
Bloxx! Yes.
Good choice, Omnitrix.
Ma: Not after I knock your block off.
Bloxx: [grunts.]
Ma: Now you done did it.
You done made me mad.
Bloxx: [grunts.]
Ma: My boys mean everything to me.
Bloxx: It was an accident.
They blew themselves up like always.
Ma: They? Who we talking 'bout here? Bloxx: Octagon and Rhomboid.
Ma: I don't give a hoot 'bout them overcloned no-accounts.
I'm talking 'bout my pretty boy.
One's gone missing.
I can assure you, ma'am, the Plumbers don't have - your pretty boy.
- Ma: Oh, I knows that! I want you to find him for me.
You're the law, ain't you? [Beep.]
Ben: Wait, wait, wait.
Are you saying you're here to report a crime, not commit one? Ma: I was hoping you do-gooders would be sensitive to the emotional needs of a mama what's been separated from her child! We are obliged to provide assistance to any resident of the host planet who directly requests it.
Uh do you have a photo of your missing boy I mean, pretty boy ma'am? Ma: Just look at that face.
He's one in a million give or take a hundred thousand or so.
Now, you find my sweet baby, 'cause if you don't, I'm gonna be forced to seek restitution! You don't get me back my son, I'm gonna take your sun! Ben: I don't have a son.
I'm a kid.
Hello! Ma: Oh! Not that kind of son that kind of sun.
Ben: You're bluffing.
Ma Vreedle is wanted in 12 systems banned from 27 more.
Rumor has it she once made Vilgax cry.
Ma: I gots me a rocket gassed up and ready to launch a trilithium warhead smack into that sun of yours instant negative fusion in the stellar core followed by quantum implosion.
Boom! Rook: Perhaps she is not bluffing.
We've got all the information we need, Mrs.
Vreedle.
- Now, you try not to worry.
- Ma: You're the ones ought to be worried iffen you don't find my pretty boy.
Rook: She just threatened the destruction of Earth's life-sustaining star, and you let her walk out of here? [Tracking device beeping.]
Textbook procedure.
By letting her go, she leads us right to the warhead.
[Device beeps.]
Rook: I am sorry I ever doubted you, sir.
While I follow the bee to the honey, you locate her larva.
[Cellphone ringing.]
- Ben: Hello? - Ben, I'm here with your leftovers.
Ben: Sorry, Mom.
You just missed us.
[Engine revs.]
Here, pretty boy! [Whistles.]
You got a better idea? [Explosion.]
Bellwood Bank.
Hang a uey.
[Tires squeal.]
[Alarm ringing.]
Rhomboid: Uh, how come we blowed up a bank if we was robbing the candy store? Octagon: We're what you call "multitasking.
" [Chomps.]
[Tires screech.]
Rook: The Vreedle Brothers! Rhomboid: Oh, are we yelling each other's names again, Octagon? Octagon: No, Boid.
This would be an opportune moment to use whatever firepower we gots left over.
Rhomboid: Whoo-hoo! Happy to oblige.
Kickin Hawk: [squawks.]
Both: [grunt.]
Rook: How are you two still alive? We witnessed your demise.
Rhomboid: We're what you call "multitasking.
" Octagon: You're confusing your terminology, Boid.
Multitasking is the simultaneous accomplishment of separate and seemingly incongruent goals, such as my speechifying whilst activating the explosive.
[Beep.]
[Beeping.]
Whoa! Kickin Hawk: [screeches.]
[Both grunt.]
[Screeches.]
[Grunts.]
Kickin Hawk: [screeches.]
Octagon: Pretty boy, you might be the best thing whatever happened to us.
Rook: [groans.]
What could've caused this to fall? Kickin Hawk: Gravity.
Duh.
[Cellphone ringing.]
Ugh! Bird hands! Can you? [Cellphone beeps.]
Rook: Hello? It is Ma for you.
Ben: Hi, Mom.
Ma: Don't you "hi, Mom," me.
You find my pretty boy? Ben: Not yet.
It's gonna take some time to - Hey, how'd you get this number? - Ma: Internet.
You got till sundown on account of once that sun goes down, it'll be a whole lot harder to hit! Rook: Earth's sun does not actually go away at night.
It is merely the rotation of the planet that makes it appear Ben: Don't help the crazy lady! We'll find pretty boy before sundown.
[Cellphone beeps.]
We'll never find pretty boy before sundown! Rhomboid: Pretty boy here is more than ready to help us pull off our greatest criminal undertaking ever.
Octagon: Only problem being we are clueless as to what said greatest criminal undertaking ought to be.
Rhomboid: Hey, what say we blow up something bigger than anything ever blowed up before, like the like the entire universe and everything in it?! Octagon: Well, that would be impossible, Boid.
But I do like the gist of your thinking.
An explosion of immense magnitude, however, would require more firepower than to which the likes of us have ready access.
Boom, boom! Boom, boom! Rhomboid: I think he's got to go to the little clones' room.
No.
Mama boom boom.
Rhomboid: Ma's got to go to the little clones' room? Octagon: I believe he's trying to tell us that our mutual ma has in her possession some kind of massively destructive warhead.
Rhomboid: What? Y-You got all that from "boom, boom"? Octagon: Well, that, and I found this receipt for it stuck - to pretty boy's lollipop.
- Rook: No sign of the missing pretty boy and not a word from Patelliday.
[Horn honking.]
Ben: [gasps.]
It's Mom hot on our tail! Rook: Is she packing heavy weaponry? Ben: Worse! She's packing leftovers! Hide me! Octagon: It's Ma.
Quick hide pretty boy.
Ma: My poor, precious pretty boy.
No one's seen hide nor hair of him.
[Groaning.]
Octagon: Hush, hush.
Hush up.
[Tracking device beeping.]
[Device beeping.]
Bing-o-o-o-o! She's heading this way fast! Ma: An eye for an eye and a sun for a son! Lights out, planet Earth! Now, the rocket and warhead are mounted - on a moving subway train! - Rook: Got it.
Ben: Give it up, lady! Game over! Ma: Oh, it ain't even started! [Whistles.]
Allow me to introduce you to my very first batch of pretty boy clones.
They's all growed up now, and they ain't so pretty.
They sure is big and mean! Ben: Not as big and mean as this.
[Beep.]
Ma: [laughs.]
Squash that pesky little skeeter, boys! Ditto: Time to split! Take that! And that! And some of this! Ditto 2: Huh.
He seems to be taking it a little too well.
[Strike!.]
[Whoosh!.]
[Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!.]
[Whoosh!.]
[Whoosh!.]
[Whoosh!.]
[Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!.]
All: Ta-da! Ditto: Rook, quick, hit the deck now! [Thud!.]
Rook: I do not see how this is at all useful.
[Grunting.]
[Creak!.]
Ditto: And that is how it's done.
[Sloop!.]
[Gasps.]
Aah! [Gun cocks.]
[Gun whirring.]
- Rook: We will never reach her in time.
- Ditto: Maybe you won't.
[Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!.]
Ma: [scoffs.]
I got corns bigger than you.
Ditto: Hey.
We took out all your mutants.
Ditto 2: We can take out just one of you.
Ma: I'm not going out.
I'm going in! You oughts to know by now that when it comes to clones, there's always plenty more! [Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!.]
- Ditto: Aah! - Ditto 2: Ow! That's my foot! [Whistle!.]
Ditto: Don't let the door hit you on the way out! [Beeping.]
Ben: Perfect timing.
Ma: You took the words right out of my mouth, and as you may recall, I don't take kindly to anyone taking what's mine! Yeehaw! Look at her go! Ben: I've got to stop that missile from destroying the sun! Come on, Omnitrix! [Omnitrix beeps.]
Ma: Stop fiddling around with that thing and watch the show last one you'll ever see! [Splat!.]
Ben: Wait.
It's a dud? Yes! Ma: That warhead was quality-tested and fully guaranteed to blow the sun sky-high, unless the warhead weren't on the missile! But who could have Ben: Well, there's what you might call an unforeseen turn of events.
Ma: Octagon and Rhomboid ain't smart enough to pull off a heist like that.
Then again, they are dumb enough not to know they got a powerful live warhead on their hands.
Rhomboid: This one? This one don't got no pin.
Octagon: Then we need a way to make Ma's explosive device explode! [Tires screech.]
Rook: It is already armed and is about to go off, taking both of you and the whole Earth with it! [Both laugh.]
Octagon: We don't mind getting blowed up.
Rhomboid: [chuckling.]
Wouldn't hardly be the first time.
- Octagon: Or the last.
- Rook: Don't be so sure.
No more Earth, no more yous! Why am I even attempting to reason with the Vreedle Brothers? I have to disarm the Ugh! [Tires screech.]
What is going on here?! [Boing!.]
Ma: My precious, missing pretty boy, come here and give your Ma mooches smooches.
[Smooches.]
- Ben: Mom, stay back! Run! - Unh-unh Not until somebody tells me what this is all about.
Ma: It's about blowing up your sorry excuse for a planet.
Can't waste my chance to finally get rid of Ben Tennyson! Excuse me? Now, you listen here.
I have been cooking and calling and chasing all over town all day, and you think I'm going to let you destroy the entire planet just so you can get rid of my son?! Well, think again, sister! Nobody messes with my boy! Ben: Wow.
[Chuckling.]
Go, Mom.
[Beep.]
[Device powers down.]
Ma: Aw, I can't go putting another mother through the kind of agony I been in.
It ain't easy being a mother.
[Strained.]
Hardest job in the world but the most rewarding, too, when you have a son that makes you so proud.
Ma: As for you two clone-napping my pretty boy, then stealing my warhead, to boot? Them's the most dastardly, low-down actions I ever seen, and to do that to your own mother? [Inhales deeply.]
- You finally done me proud! - Octagon: I love you, Ma! Rhomboid: This is the happiest day of my life! Ben: You're a clone! This has been the only day of your life! Shh! [Grunts.]
[Both gasp.]
[Chuckles.]
Rhomboid: Aw, thank you kindly, pretty boy.
[Slurp!.]
Octagon: Why is it that Rhomboid and myself have geometrical monikers whilst none of the pretty boys has such? Ma: Your Pa and I only knew but four shapes between us, and we almost named the two of you "the dumb one" and "the other dumb one.
" - Rhomboid: Which one am I? - Octagon: Certainly, there must be some kind of shape what suits this one pretty boy.
- May I suggest "Dodecahedron"? - Ben: Mom! Dody! Dody! Dody! [Thwack! Splat!.]
[Thwack! Splat!.]
Ma: I think he likes it.
- Cold but still nutritious.
- Ben: Aw, Mom! I mean aww, Mom! Thanks! You shouldn't have! You really, really shouldn't have.
Ma: Since you done so good taking care of pretty boy, I'm gonna let you take care of all the pretty boys! All: Ma-a-a-a!