Robot Chicken s02e17 Episode Script

It's alive! I just can't do a thing with it.
Hey, guys, going on a mission? Can I come? Sorry, Snow Job.
This mission doesn't require skis.
Wearing a blindingly white outfit in the middle of jungle warfare makes you a very shootable target, man.
Bunch of G.
I.
Jerks! Those guys suck.
Someday I'll show them how much I rock.
Attention, G.
I.
Joe! I am Samuel Schmid, President of Switzerland.
The Swiss Alps, they have been overrun by Yeti! - Just one Yeti? - Yeti, yetis whatever the plural is! We need your help! Sounds like a go job for Snow Job! - That's awful.
- Yeah, I gotta work on that.
This must be the Swiss Capitol building.
But I don't see any Yeti.
Yetis.
Yeti? I don't see anyone! What? - Snow Job, you idiot.
- Snow Job, you'll believe anything! Retard! Soldier, sorry about that practical joke.
Please forgive us, Snowy Dealings.
We were careless with your feelings.
- Whatever.
I don't care.
- Did you see? It's snowing outside! - Really?! - Yep.
We have a mission for you.
Awesome! Son of a bitch! Now just hold still.
This won't hurt Guys? I don't think that flying monkey road kill is sitting so well.
So how long have you two been? A while, OK? You're a big hand now, Thing.
I think it's time you went and made it on your own.
I'm sorry, Thing, old man.
I've got to hand it to you, Mr.
Thing, your resume is very impressive.
Massage therapy, palm reading, ensemble in Annie.
Well, I'm willing to give you a shot, kid.
Hey, Thing.
Let me introduce Allison from accounting.
She needs a ride home tonight, if you can handle it.
Oh, Thing! Oh, Thing! It's not you, Thing, it's me.
I want to have children someday and you don't have reproductive organs.
I'm sorry.
Hey, Thing.
Sorry things didn't work out with Allison.
No pun intended.
But I'd like to introduce you to the new girl from accounting.
Thing, Emma Jig.
Thing, Emma Jig, I now pronounce you hand and hand.
How are they going to, you know, do it? ¤ Get funky with your fingers ¤ ¤ Funky with your fingers ¤ ¤ Baby, funky with your fingers ¤ What are you supposed to be? A leprechaun or something? Sure, you got that right, lad.
One of the wee folk! A natural-born son of beautiful mother Ireland.
OK.
So if I catch you, do I get your pot of gold? Of course, me lad.
A pot of gold for anyone who can catch Bollocks! Bartender, another beer, if you Check it out, guys! It's a real live leprechaun! He's giving out real gold! Look, I got some.
Bollocks! No! - Damn that Carney! - What are we going to do? I've got an idea.
Why did I get a pot of crap? That will put an end to that.
Welcome to the memory game! Let's bring out our first contestant.
Hi, I'm Charles, and I'm from Toronto, Ontaro, Canada.
Yeah! Charles, are you ready to enter the Hall of Memory? - I am! - Then let's play! So what am I supposed to? Too bad, Charles.
All right, let's bring out our next contestant.
- Hugh! - Hi, I'm Hugh.
- And I don't want to play anymore.
- Hugh, get on in there.
Way to use your memory.
Hugh remembered that arrow.
You've got to watch those spikes.
Here goes Martha! She ducks the arrows, and jumps the spikes.
She avoids the falling rock, now she swings over the molten lava! There's that hidden axe! That makes fighting that skeleton so much easier.
Quickly through the poison gas.
And she's over those pesky saw blades! She eats the brownie that's not filled with laxative.
And she's over to the giant piano! Greensleeves, that's it! - She's done it! - I did it, I did it! Yeah! Congratulations, Martha! Are you ready to collect your prize? Yes, I am! Great! It's right over there! What's wrong? Go on, claim your prize.
I OK! Now you just have to escape with it! What? A black stallion! What a beautiful horse! - Wassup, son? - You can talk?! You think because I'm a "black" stallion that I can't talk? You think I'm stupid or uneducated or something? No, it's just horses don't usually Racist! Look, Black Stallion! I caught a wild rooster! Well, about damn time! I'm starving up in this mug, man.
Should I fry it up? You think 'cause I'm a "black" stallion that I like fried chicken.
Yes, massa! Yeah! Can I get me some fried chicken, please? What? No, no! I just No, I mean, I meant - Never mind.
- Racist.
Black Stallion, I found a source of fresh water! That's not the Black Stallion.
I'm the Black Stallion! What, you think all black horses look the same? We all just one big race of black stallions to you, aren't we? No, I just I thought there were - You probably can't even dance, honky.
- I can too dance! Watch! Snap! See, Black Stallion? We both have misconceptions and misunderstandings.
And you can be a racist, too.
Little white boy, you have taught me a lot about myself and race relations.
I love you.
Kids! Come inside for hot cocoa.
- Have you guys seen Billy? - No.
Detective Oprah! You're going to go after the biggest crime boss in Chicago.
So you'll need a no-nonsense partner with a no-nonsense moustache.
Meet Dr.
Phil.
Come on, Oprah.
It's time to get real.
I'm aging too gracefully for this shit.
That's the Big Boss' right-hand man, Salvador.
If I can get five million white trash housewives to read War and Peace, I can get this guy to talk.
Let me try something, Oprah.
Hey, listen, Salvador? You show eight out of nine signs of being a criminal psychopath.
But a new day is just waiting around the corner.
We'll be right back after this commercial Who the fuck are you? And what the fuck did you just say? I think he's really opening up.
Yeah, opening up a can of whoop-ass! Salvador, I think a lot of this anger is stemming from the relationship with your father.
I'd like to bring him out here.
Come on out, dad.
Papa?! How did you? But you don't have enough money to fly from Italy.
All guests of The Oprah Winfrey Show fly first class on Delta Airlines.
Papa! Papa! Take 'em down! If you rat on your boss we'll give you a 64-inch high definition plasma TV from Samsung.
That's just a refurbished floor model! - You go to hell! - Tell me about your childhood.
Did someone touch you as a kid? That is wrong, but it's not your fault.
I care about you.
The boss, he hangs out behind the bowling alley.
Book 'em, Oprah! Time for you fools to join my Book Club.
The first book is a story about a sucker.
Oprah, I'm already a member of your book I would love to kick your ass! Stay back! I don't trust you cops further than I could throw you.
Well, then, let's try a trust exercise.
You fall back into my arms.
Trust me, I won't harm you.
OK.
But they will.
You may have caught me but you have no proof I ever killed anybody.
Yeah? Look under your chair.
In hindsight, that was a mistake.
Well, you're right, Oprah.
You always are.