The Venture Bros (2003) s06e05 Episode Script
Tanks for Nuthin'
[Pounding.]
[Knocking.]
[yawns.]
Morning, honey.
Hardly.
Must be nice getting to sleep in.
You know, some of us have to work around here.
What? I work around here! Who do you think supervises this?! All day long, it's "Seòor Monarch, where do I put this? Seã'or Monarch, eggshell or semi-gloss?" This is work! Uh, I wasn't doing you, Manolo.
I'm talking about your real work.
You haven't arched in weeks.
- Yeah, 'cause you won't let me! - It's not me! Venture's a level 10 protagonist now.
- You are only at a level 4.
- And you promised to bump me up! How am I supposed to do that when all you do Is lie around in your robe all day And party all night long with your Henchman? Well, at least he's loyal.
[Groans.]
You got to meet me halfway here.
Hire more henchmen, build a new cocoon, and go arch someone else for just a little while! That worked out great last time.
Then rob a bank, ransom an heiress or something.
Show the council no, show me you're better than a 4.
Hey, when you married me, it was for better or worse, not better than 4.
I married the Monarch.
I don't even know who this person is.
- D-Do you need a hug? - To the Morpho cave! [Ominous music plays.]
6x05 - Tanks for Nuthin' Mm.
[Sniffs.]
Huh? Ohh! The [bleep.]
? [Mid-tempo music plays.]
- Hey, there's coffee.
- Ah.
Thanks.
Hey, I wasn't trying to sneak out or anything.
Uh, you looked busy, and I, uh, didn't want to scuff your nice floor.
- Okay, look, about last night - What? Oh, you're still here? Let's make that coffee to go, huh, Heracles? [Gears grinding.]
Hank: [sniffs.]
Whoa! He smells awful! And this is coming from someone who's smelled a lot of dead archenemies.
Ohh! Whew! You know, I've had dreams about you in an outfit like this, fraulein.
[Groans.]
Knock it off, Venture! You're in a lot of trouble.
This wasn't just some anonymous henchman that you could bury in your flower bed.
Haranguetan was a top-level nemesis.
Well, what? I had nothing to do with this.
- Ask Billy.
He saw the whole thing.
- Oh, please.
This had "death by Samson" written all over it.
- Oh, speak of the devil.
Samson.
- Huh? [Dramatic note plays.]
Oh, shit! - [Sighs.]
Damn it.
- At ease.
We're just here for the body.
Your handiwork I take it.
Huh? No.
I, uh, smacked him up a bit, sure, but his head was still screwed on straight when I left.
Well, then you won't mind if I take a look at your surveillance tapes to confirm that.
You touch our tapes, and they'll be pulling you out of that hole next.
[Inhales deeply.]
Bag him up and move him out, people.
We're done here.
[Both grunt.]
What? You too? Ick! Like father, like son.
I'm not interested, Junior.
But those were for Uncle Hatred.
Henchman: If we could just get your Dr.
Hancock on these, we'll be out of your hair.
Oh, no, please, keep it courtesy of the new Guild of calamitous intent.
And should you ever have any issues with our service, please feel free to call our helpful hate-line.
[Chuckles.]
Brock, why are you walking like that? Is it a side effect of the God gas? Are you experiencing anal leakage? - I don't need another olestra on my hands.
- No, Doc, I maybe, actually.
Chairman! Oh, there you are.
The good ship Ven-Tech's hit a bit of a P.
R.
iceberg.
Ye got to see this.
[Moans.]
Whoa! Is this real life? Man: Y-You're okay, pally.
It's just from the God gas.
[Screaming.]
I feel funny.
Why is this happening to me? [Laughter.]
This one can't hold his God gas! - Look at him.
- [Scottish accent.]
Oh, horrible.
[Laughter.]
Ow! Oh, my head.
- Oh, man! - What's so funny? What are you looking at? Oh, my God! Is that from last night? Take that down! Take it down immediately! No way! We got like 80,000 hits already.
[Doorbell rings.]
Wrong 80,001! - Ow! - Well, I think you look just adorable.
[Ringing continues.]
Hey Hey, Billy, are you hungry? [Laughter.]
Mom! They're picking on me! William, there's a Nazi here to see you.
[Ominous music plays.]
[Whirring.]
[Telephone ringing.]
[Whirring stops.]
Uh, m-mayor's office? - What the "f"? - Hey, what's this one do? Uh, Blue Morpho backscratcher? - Mm.
Oh, sweet.
- All right, check it out.
I spent all morning putting together a handy chart for everyone currently in line to Arch Venture.
So, Wide Wale's Venture's primary, right? But he's ceded sub-arching rights to these other level 10's through the Guild's "fiends & family plan.
" - Now, they, in turn, each have to - Blah-blah-blah! Why aren't you using the big computer? Because this Nixon-era fossil's got less memory than a Speak & spell! And there's no internet because there was no internet.
Hmm, might need to upgrade, then get some new Morpho, eh? - How long do you plan on doing this? - Till every one of them is dead.
Aw, dude, come on.
There's got to be another way.
I am not a murderer.
- You were last night.
- All right, that was an accident.
Dead men can't arch or rat on us.
- Hey, should we kill Manolo? - What? Dude! Wh-Why? 'Cause he's seen the secret cave.
I'm pretty sure he's padding his invoices.
He does quality work! - You're paying for the quality! - All right, all right, fine! We can't do anything until we get the Morpho-mobile out of the impound, anyway.
[Clears throat.]
So, Kano, my ample accomplice, to the Morpho-scooters! [Dramatic note plays.]
Oh, yeah, that's brilliant.
Then we have to go back for those tomorrow.
They're not gonna fit in the trunk, you know? All right, to the Morpho-copter! [Dramatic note plays.]
Nope, don't have one.
Eh, damn it! What do we got for this? Metrocards.
Dr.
Mrs.
The Monarch: The Quizboy claims Venture and Brock were present when Haranguetan was murdered, but he was really foggy on the details.
Not surprising, considering the boy was hippy-flipping on Doc Venture's good time goof gas.
He said the killer was a "handsome masked avenger, resplendent in blue.
" The Blue something Blue "Morpho.
" Name ring a bell? Only funeral bells.
The Blue Morpho's been dead for decades.
There can only be one explanation! - Ghost Ninja! - Time tunnel! There is a new Blue Morpho.
That, or the lad could've been hallucinatin'.
- Yeah, or just straight up lyin'! - Well, yes, those could also work.
Well, if I could just get a hold of Venture's surveillance tapes, we'd know for sure, but he won't budge.
Think I might can help you out there, councilwoman.
What? You're gonna change his mind? Let's just say I left a few bugs in his place last time I paid a visit.
[chuckles.]
The Ventures can't hide nothin' from old Wide Wale.
All right, e-mail me if you find anything, councilman.
In the meantime, I have to break the news to the widow Haranguetan.
Why didn't anyone tell me we could just hologram in? [Siren wailing in distance.]
[Sighs.]
- Sigh.
- Yeah, these are never easy.
The bereaved can often become volatile lots of "blame the messenger.
" Ohh, remember man grenade's widow? Yes, oh, I still can't go through metal detectors.
Maybe you two should wait in the car.
[Soft music playing.]
Ugh.
[Scottish accent.]
We're all paid up.
- Pardon? - Our dues we're paid up.
You're from the Guild, ain't ya? Y-Yes, but I'm I'm not here about your dues, Mrs.
Haranguetan.
Battleaxe.
- S-Sorry.
- It's me name.
Take enough shit from that no-account husband I'll not take his name, as well.
Oh, uh, okay, um, about your husband Whatever he's done, I don't know nothin' 'bout it.
Ain't seen hide nor hair of the worthless bastard since Tuesday last.
[Inhales deeply.]
Mrs.
Haranguetan B-Battleaxe, your husband is dead.
[Crying.]
Oh, no, oh, no! Not me Ronnie! Ooh, not me sweetheart! - Say it ain't so.
- A drink on the house! To Haranguetan! All: [slurring.]
Haranguetan! [Bleep.]
off, the lot of yous.
The, um, council would like - to express its sincerest apologies.
- Who done him in? We don't know yet, but I assure you the council is d I have no use for your bloody assurances, so kindly leave us the keys to the Haranguetank and be on your way.
- His what? - Haranguetank! His battle van, what'd ya think? Never arches without it.
There wasn't any we didn't even find Well, you'd better bloody well find it, then.
What do I pay me bloody dues for? [Sobbing.]
It's all I've left of him.
Sure, his breath was crap, and he beat me when he was in his cups, but I loved him! And he loved that Haranguetank.
[Sighs.]
I'll I'll see what I can do.
"All great things must first wear terrifying and monstrous masks in order to inscribe themselves on the hearts of humanity.
" Who said that? Anyone? Think, my children.
No need to answer at once.
[Chuckles.]
No matter.
Philosophy is not about the rote memorization and regurgitation of facts.
It is about [device beeps.]
[Chuckles evilly.]
Well, that will be all for today, my eager, young small brains.
Please leave your papers on my desk as you wander off to your unexamined lives of gravity bongs, ceaseless tweets, and date rapery.
Mr.
Venture, a moment, please.
[Clears throat.]
Um, yes, sir? Professor Nidaba? I've read your paper.
- Wh-When? I just put it on the - Just now.
In addition to the multiple doctorates I hold from Stanford, Cambridge, the Sorbonne, et Alia, I am in possession of a certificate of completion from the Evelyn Wood program.
The point is your paper is truly terrible.
- Oh, uh, but - Mr.
Venture, you are one of my brightest pupils this semester, but you seem distracted.
- Is there trouble at home? - Well, a-a guy broke in with a metal whale monster the other day, and then some "yelly" guy broke in last night.
But, well, he died.
As I suspected, the soot on your right shoe industrial concrete of a grade used in skyscrapers with trace amounts of carrara marble indisputable evidence of a whale-sized hole in your lobby.
- Wow, good eye.
- Furthermore, your clothing bears a faint odor of antiseptic.
You visited a hospital this morning.
A thin residue of pollen on your left cuff - tells me you brought flowers.
- Whoa, that's amazing! I merely interpret the data, and the data tells me that your chaotic home life is a distraction from your studies.
I suggest you avoid your domicile altogether this evening, say, between the hours of 9:00 and 10:30 P.
M.
that you might better focus, eh, for tomorrow's exam.
O-Oh, w-well, okay, Dr.
Nidaba.
Thank you.
I'll sure take all your advice.
Mm, excellent.
[Laughs evilly.]
"All great things must first wear terrifying and monstrous masks.
" [Chuckles.]
Nietzsche.
It was Friedrich Nietzsche.
How did they not know that? Dr.
Mrs.
The Monarch: Well, the good news is I've located your, um, Haranguetank.
[Keyboard clacking.]
You've had about 50 unpaid tickets on the thing, so the NYPD towed it.
- So that's it, then? - Yeah, that's it.
You just go down to the impound, pay the fine, drive it home.
[Sobbing.]
Once again, the Guild wishes to express its most sincere c - Are Are you okay? - I just don't know if I should be driving in me state of emotions.
Oh, uh do you need me to go with you? Ooh, would you? Oh, you're a star.
Let me just go put me face on.
[Laughs.]
[Sighs.]
[bar door swings open.]
[Computer beeps.]
[Slurps.]
[Ominous music plays.]
Mm.
[Beeps.]
[Toilet flushes.]
All right, poshna, I'm ready.
Let's go get us a Haranguetank! - Can I help you? - Yes, you have my car.
License and registration.
But of course.
Here's my license! - Oh! - And here's my registration! [Laughs evilly.]
[Buzzer.]
Oh.
Attack! Pirate Captain: Nah, nah, nah, Ms.
Warrington.
Uh, this whole God gas business has been blown way out of proportion.
But, Pirate Captain, the video is clear proof that Venture Techno-industries is engaging in illegal and unethical mind-control experiments on human subjects.
No, no, no, t'was a private joke video made by a couple of extremely low-level employees in one of our wee subdivisions.
For the record, Ven-Tech is not working on no God gas.
Dr.
Venture: Well, I hope you enjoyed your $200 million cheeseburger, because our stock dropped 50 points today! My fault? How is it my fault? What? Who's that? White? Tell him no, we are not taking God gas to the Science Now conference.
[Powering up.]
Billy, I'll call ya back.
- Pirate Captain, the - What? Let me finish! [Explosion.]
Now, no, I've been taken out of context.
[Alarm blaring.]
But Pirate Captain Well, you have to give me a chance to [Sighs.]
Where the hell is it? - He said it'd be here.
- I don't know.
Hang on! I'm gonna check the next aisle.
- I think I see something blue.
- Hurry up! The poison in those darts is from the '70s.
If it didn't kill him, the guard might wake up any minute feeling groovy! [Groans.]
Ah! What the Oh, oh, lady! [War cries.]
What is wrong with you?! All you had to do is pay the ticket! I hate [bleep.]
coppers.
[Gagging, coughing.]
Greetings, Dr.
Venture.
I am Think Tank, - and I will be your nemesis this evening.
- Uh Brock? I know, Doc, I'm on it.
Just get to the panic room, stat.
- Uh, not really an option.
- Sit, Dr.
Venture.
Please.
I do apologize for the rather theatrical entrance, but I find a bold opening always makes for a more spirited game.
And I intend to enjoy ours to the fullest.
The Guild has of late seen fit to mismatch me against a procession of muscle-bound subhumans and caped half-wits, but in you, my good doctor, I finally have an adversary worthy of my prodigious intellect.
- So, shall we match wits? - What? Oh.
- [Chuckles.]
I don't really play.
- Oh, you you don't? More of a parcheesi man.
Got one of those in your little glove box? Oh.
Oh, dear.
I can't say this isn't a disappointment.
I had this whole thing planned.
Look, could we move this along? I've already been arched twice this week, and, frankly, it's getting old.
- What do you want? - Ah.
What does any man want, Dr.
Venture? Nietzsche once wrote, - "The true man wants dan" - Oh, Jesus, all right! That's it.
[Dialing.]
Who Who are you calling? Guild of calamitous intent.
Uh, yes, hi.
This is Dr.
Thaddeus S.
Venture.
I'd like to register a complaint.
Ah, you want customer service.
Please hold while I connect you.
Customer service.
Debbie speaking.
Wha oh, hi, Debbie? This is Dr.
Thaddeus S.
Venture.
[Elevator bell dings.]
- I have an issue with a new arch you sent me.
- Ah, here comes your knight.
So it's to be the king's indian defense, is it? And you said you didn't play.
Hmm? [War cries.]
Hmm.
[Grunting.]
This is getting ridiculous.
How am I supposed to get any work done around here when these clowns keeps showing up? And this new one, he's a talker.
Well, we're very sorry to hear you're dissatisfied with your service, Dr.
Venture.
Would you mind holding while I pull up the details of your account? Uh [electronic lounge music plays.]
[Sighs.]
[Clinking.]
- Oh.
Oh, god.
- Oh! No, still smells of him.
[Chuckles.]
Whiskey, cheap Chinese cigarettes, and the sweat of a man who may or may not have been part ape.
This is the Haranguetank? Aye, home sweet home.
Can I get you something? Whiskey? No, I think we should just go.
- Wait, you live in this thing? - Aah! Ow! [Rustling.]
What was that? [Gasps.]
Parkies on patrol! - [Groans.]
Owie.
- Psst! Quit screwing around! Found it.
[Glug! Glug! Glug!.]
Dr.
Mrs.
The Monarch: You?! [Suspenseful music plays.]
[Whimpers.]
Wait here.
Ha! Too slow that time, stink tank.
Looks like we got ourselves a good old-fashioned stalemate.
No, we do not.
Your position is untenable, Mr.
Samson.
I need only to increase my force field's power to sever your brachial artery.
Yeah? Then you'd be drowning in my blood.
Ha! Now who's untenable? I have a high-velocity cannon pointed at your chest.
I could dodge it.
[Electronic lounge music plays.]
Come on, come on.
Henchman: Sorry to keep you waiting.
Oh, thank God.
Look, I've been Did you now you can now pay your Guild dues online? - Damn it to hell! - Simply log in - Oh.
- So, what? - You're stalking me now? - Wha What? No.
- Dude, I'm just - Relax.
I'm just messing with you.
Hey, so, [sighs.]
sorry if I was weird this morning.
It's cool.
I think this makes us even.
I'm just not one for pillow talk, you know? I-I've got a lot going on right now, what, with my career, my alter ego, my alter ego's career Yeah, I kind of got a lot going on myself right now.
- That Think Tank guy just - Whoa, whoa, Think Tank? Oh, do not even tell me that pompous son of a gorgon is messing with my man.
I know who you are, Blue Morpho! Come on out, coward! Show yourself! [Car door closes.]
Battleaxe: Ohh, flamin' Nora, what's keepin' the woman? [Gulps.]
Well, posh pattie won't mind if we just check our e-mails.
What's this, then? [Gasps.]
[Crying.]
Oh, there you are, me big strappin' husband.
[Normal voice.]
Ooh, look at how handsome you are in your leathers.
Dr.
Mrs.
The Monarch: I am going to [bleep.]
kill you.
Do you hear me? - What is your wife doing here? - Hello? - I do not know.
- I know you're in there.
If you're trying to hide, you shouldn't have picked a place with your big [bleep.]
face on it.
- She kind of has a point.
- Shut up and get us out of here.
[Engine starts.]
Nice try, but you're not gonna get very far with that boot on your car.
Now come out of there with your hands up.
Battleaxe: Ooh! [Gasps.]
Oh, I can't watch! [Crying.]
Do you hear me? I'm not [bleep.]
with you! You have three seconds.
Hold on a tick.
One [Both whimpering.]
Battleaxe: Oh, you - two - Ooh, you're a sly one.
three.
[Bullet ricochets.]
- Aah! - Oh! Oh! Oh, my God, oh, my God! What's happening? - What? Oh, oh! Hey! - Aah! [Engine starts.]
Battleaxe: Venture! [Tires screech.]
Henchman: Okay, Dr.
Venture, now I'm going to give you your case number.
You will need to keep it handy in case we get disconnected.
Do you have a pen? Uh, yeah, hang on.
- G-O-F-6-2-2.
- Hang Hang on.
Oh, come on.
- [Chuckles.]
Sucker.
- Follow that Blue Morpho mobile.
[Engine starts, tires squeal.]
Uh, hello? [Groans.]
All right, think guy.
If you're such a super genius, can you think of a way to get cheap pen out of expensive speedsuit? [Metal clangs.]
Ah, didn't see that move coming, did you? We call that an "in your face checkmate.
" Well, I call it an "unsanctioned team-up.
" [Grunts.]
The Guild will hear of this.
Yeah, good luck with that.
[Grunts.]
What do you say we take this unsanctioned team-up back to my place and make it official? All right, but, uh no butt stuff this time, okay? - I liked it! - May I go? - Henchman: Oh, my God, that was so [bleep.]
close! - Monarch: Ah! Yes! God! Amazing! [Laughs.]
I love you, daddy! Mwah! Hey, we should totally swing over the Venture building! What? No! We're not gonna swing anywhere! - We're gonna bring this thing home! - Come on! Just a quick fly-by! I want to take a dump in his pool.
Be like old times.
That skeevy little bastard! Stay on him.
It's a straightaway.
He's turning! Oh, my God.
It looks like he's headed for [Monarch laughs crazily.]
[Ominous music plays.]
Battleaxe: Ohh, don't you worry, Ronnie.
Your old Battleaxe will avenge ya, darlin'.
Prepare for battle, Venture, 'cause here comes the axe! Whoa, what's that up in the road a head? - Taxi? - Dr.
Nidaba? What's he doing at our house? Waiting for all the king's horses and all the king's men? [Horn blaring.]
Whoa! [All screaming.]
Dr.
Mrs.
The Monarch: Watch where you're going! - Watch! - Ahh, what the hell is that?! Curse o' the Blue Jesus! [All screaming.]
[Screams.]
Whoa! Huh? [Groans.]
[Screaming.]
Oh, for now what? [Metal clangs.]
[Film noir music plays.]
[Theme music plays.]
[Sighs.]
[Soft music plays.]
[Footsteps on stairs.]
Someone had a very busy day.
Ah, the vestibule looks great, honey.
Yeah, it's, uh, starting to look like a real home now, huh, honey? Aw, I'm s I'm sorry about this morning.
I guess it's the stress of the job and the home and all this - Oh, no, it's - You are not the enemy, sweetie.
[Smooches.]
[Sighs.]
I know who my enemy is.
Battleaxe: Chirp, you slut.
[Knocking.]
[yawns.]
Morning, honey.
Hardly.
Must be nice getting to sleep in.
You know, some of us have to work around here.
What? I work around here! Who do you think supervises this?! All day long, it's "Seòor Monarch, where do I put this? Seã'or Monarch, eggshell or semi-gloss?" This is work! Uh, I wasn't doing you, Manolo.
I'm talking about your real work.
You haven't arched in weeks.
- Yeah, 'cause you won't let me! - It's not me! Venture's a level 10 protagonist now.
- You are only at a level 4.
- And you promised to bump me up! How am I supposed to do that when all you do Is lie around in your robe all day And party all night long with your Henchman? Well, at least he's loyal.
[Groans.]
You got to meet me halfway here.
Hire more henchmen, build a new cocoon, and go arch someone else for just a little while! That worked out great last time.
Then rob a bank, ransom an heiress or something.
Show the council no, show me you're better than a 4.
Hey, when you married me, it was for better or worse, not better than 4.
I married the Monarch.
I don't even know who this person is.
- D-Do you need a hug? - To the Morpho cave! [Ominous music plays.]
6x05 - Tanks for Nuthin' Mm.
[Sniffs.]
Huh? Ohh! The [bleep.]
? [Mid-tempo music plays.]
- Hey, there's coffee.
- Ah.
Thanks.
Hey, I wasn't trying to sneak out or anything.
Uh, you looked busy, and I, uh, didn't want to scuff your nice floor.
- Okay, look, about last night - What? Oh, you're still here? Let's make that coffee to go, huh, Heracles? [Gears grinding.]
Hank: [sniffs.]
Whoa! He smells awful! And this is coming from someone who's smelled a lot of dead archenemies.
Ohh! Whew! You know, I've had dreams about you in an outfit like this, fraulein.
[Groans.]
Knock it off, Venture! You're in a lot of trouble.
This wasn't just some anonymous henchman that you could bury in your flower bed.
Haranguetan was a top-level nemesis.
Well, what? I had nothing to do with this.
- Ask Billy.
He saw the whole thing.
- Oh, please.
This had "death by Samson" written all over it.
- Oh, speak of the devil.
Samson.
- Huh? [Dramatic note plays.]
Oh, shit! - [Sighs.]
Damn it.
- At ease.
We're just here for the body.
Your handiwork I take it.
Huh? No.
I, uh, smacked him up a bit, sure, but his head was still screwed on straight when I left.
Well, then you won't mind if I take a look at your surveillance tapes to confirm that.
You touch our tapes, and they'll be pulling you out of that hole next.
[Inhales deeply.]
Bag him up and move him out, people.
We're done here.
[Both grunt.]
What? You too? Ick! Like father, like son.
I'm not interested, Junior.
But those were for Uncle Hatred.
Henchman: If we could just get your Dr.
Hancock on these, we'll be out of your hair.
Oh, no, please, keep it courtesy of the new Guild of calamitous intent.
And should you ever have any issues with our service, please feel free to call our helpful hate-line.
[Chuckles.]
Brock, why are you walking like that? Is it a side effect of the God gas? Are you experiencing anal leakage? - I don't need another olestra on my hands.
- No, Doc, I maybe, actually.
Chairman! Oh, there you are.
The good ship Ven-Tech's hit a bit of a P.
R.
iceberg.
Ye got to see this.
[Moans.]
Whoa! Is this real life? Man: Y-You're okay, pally.
It's just from the God gas.
[Screaming.]
I feel funny.
Why is this happening to me? [Laughter.]
This one can't hold his God gas! - Look at him.
- [Scottish accent.]
Oh, horrible.
[Laughter.]
Ow! Oh, my head.
- Oh, man! - What's so funny? What are you looking at? Oh, my God! Is that from last night? Take that down! Take it down immediately! No way! We got like 80,000 hits already.
[Doorbell rings.]
Wrong 80,001! - Ow! - Well, I think you look just adorable.
[Ringing continues.]
Hey Hey, Billy, are you hungry? [Laughter.]
Mom! They're picking on me! William, there's a Nazi here to see you.
[Ominous music plays.]
[Whirring.]
[Telephone ringing.]
[Whirring stops.]
Uh, m-mayor's office? - What the "f"? - Hey, what's this one do? Uh, Blue Morpho backscratcher? - Mm.
Oh, sweet.
- All right, check it out.
I spent all morning putting together a handy chart for everyone currently in line to Arch Venture.
So, Wide Wale's Venture's primary, right? But he's ceded sub-arching rights to these other level 10's through the Guild's "fiends & family plan.
" - Now, they, in turn, each have to - Blah-blah-blah! Why aren't you using the big computer? Because this Nixon-era fossil's got less memory than a Speak & spell! And there's no internet because there was no internet.
Hmm, might need to upgrade, then get some new Morpho, eh? - How long do you plan on doing this? - Till every one of them is dead.
Aw, dude, come on.
There's got to be another way.
I am not a murderer.
- You were last night.
- All right, that was an accident.
Dead men can't arch or rat on us.
- Hey, should we kill Manolo? - What? Dude! Wh-Why? 'Cause he's seen the secret cave.
I'm pretty sure he's padding his invoices.
He does quality work! - You're paying for the quality! - All right, all right, fine! We can't do anything until we get the Morpho-mobile out of the impound, anyway.
[Clears throat.]
So, Kano, my ample accomplice, to the Morpho-scooters! [Dramatic note plays.]
Oh, yeah, that's brilliant.
Then we have to go back for those tomorrow.
They're not gonna fit in the trunk, you know? All right, to the Morpho-copter! [Dramatic note plays.]
Nope, don't have one.
Eh, damn it! What do we got for this? Metrocards.
Dr.
Mrs.
The Monarch: The Quizboy claims Venture and Brock were present when Haranguetan was murdered, but he was really foggy on the details.
Not surprising, considering the boy was hippy-flipping on Doc Venture's good time goof gas.
He said the killer was a "handsome masked avenger, resplendent in blue.
" The Blue something Blue "Morpho.
" Name ring a bell? Only funeral bells.
The Blue Morpho's been dead for decades.
There can only be one explanation! - Ghost Ninja! - Time tunnel! There is a new Blue Morpho.
That, or the lad could've been hallucinatin'.
- Yeah, or just straight up lyin'! - Well, yes, those could also work.
Well, if I could just get a hold of Venture's surveillance tapes, we'd know for sure, but he won't budge.
Think I might can help you out there, councilwoman.
What? You're gonna change his mind? Let's just say I left a few bugs in his place last time I paid a visit.
[chuckles.]
The Ventures can't hide nothin' from old Wide Wale.
All right, e-mail me if you find anything, councilman.
In the meantime, I have to break the news to the widow Haranguetan.
Why didn't anyone tell me we could just hologram in? [Siren wailing in distance.]
[Sighs.]
- Sigh.
- Yeah, these are never easy.
The bereaved can often become volatile lots of "blame the messenger.
" Ohh, remember man grenade's widow? Yes, oh, I still can't go through metal detectors.
Maybe you two should wait in the car.
[Soft music playing.]
Ugh.
[Scottish accent.]
We're all paid up.
- Pardon? - Our dues we're paid up.
You're from the Guild, ain't ya? Y-Yes, but I'm I'm not here about your dues, Mrs.
Haranguetan.
Battleaxe.
- S-Sorry.
- It's me name.
Take enough shit from that no-account husband I'll not take his name, as well.
Oh, uh, okay, um, about your husband Whatever he's done, I don't know nothin' 'bout it.
Ain't seen hide nor hair of the worthless bastard since Tuesday last.
[Inhales deeply.]
Mrs.
Haranguetan B-Battleaxe, your husband is dead.
[Crying.]
Oh, no, oh, no! Not me Ronnie! Ooh, not me sweetheart! - Say it ain't so.
- A drink on the house! To Haranguetan! All: [slurring.]
Haranguetan! [Bleep.]
off, the lot of yous.
The, um, council would like - to express its sincerest apologies.
- Who done him in? We don't know yet, but I assure you the council is d I have no use for your bloody assurances, so kindly leave us the keys to the Haranguetank and be on your way.
- His what? - Haranguetank! His battle van, what'd ya think? Never arches without it.
There wasn't any we didn't even find Well, you'd better bloody well find it, then.
What do I pay me bloody dues for? [Sobbing.]
It's all I've left of him.
Sure, his breath was crap, and he beat me when he was in his cups, but I loved him! And he loved that Haranguetank.
[Sighs.]
I'll I'll see what I can do.
"All great things must first wear terrifying and monstrous masks in order to inscribe themselves on the hearts of humanity.
" Who said that? Anyone? Think, my children.
No need to answer at once.
[Chuckles.]
No matter.
Philosophy is not about the rote memorization and regurgitation of facts.
It is about [device beeps.]
[Chuckles evilly.]
Well, that will be all for today, my eager, young small brains.
Please leave your papers on my desk as you wander off to your unexamined lives of gravity bongs, ceaseless tweets, and date rapery.
Mr.
Venture, a moment, please.
[Clears throat.]
Um, yes, sir? Professor Nidaba? I've read your paper.
- Wh-When? I just put it on the - Just now.
In addition to the multiple doctorates I hold from Stanford, Cambridge, the Sorbonne, et Alia, I am in possession of a certificate of completion from the Evelyn Wood program.
The point is your paper is truly terrible.
- Oh, uh, but - Mr.
Venture, you are one of my brightest pupils this semester, but you seem distracted.
- Is there trouble at home? - Well, a-a guy broke in with a metal whale monster the other day, and then some "yelly" guy broke in last night.
But, well, he died.
As I suspected, the soot on your right shoe industrial concrete of a grade used in skyscrapers with trace amounts of carrara marble indisputable evidence of a whale-sized hole in your lobby.
- Wow, good eye.
- Furthermore, your clothing bears a faint odor of antiseptic.
You visited a hospital this morning.
A thin residue of pollen on your left cuff - tells me you brought flowers.
- Whoa, that's amazing! I merely interpret the data, and the data tells me that your chaotic home life is a distraction from your studies.
I suggest you avoid your domicile altogether this evening, say, between the hours of 9:00 and 10:30 P.
M.
that you might better focus, eh, for tomorrow's exam.
O-Oh, w-well, okay, Dr.
Nidaba.
Thank you.
I'll sure take all your advice.
Mm, excellent.
[Laughs evilly.]
"All great things must first wear terrifying and monstrous masks.
" [Chuckles.]
Nietzsche.
It was Friedrich Nietzsche.
How did they not know that? Dr.
Mrs.
The Monarch: Well, the good news is I've located your, um, Haranguetank.
[Keyboard clacking.]
You've had about 50 unpaid tickets on the thing, so the NYPD towed it.
- So that's it, then? - Yeah, that's it.
You just go down to the impound, pay the fine, drive it home.
[Sobbing.]
Once again, the Guild wishes to express its most sincere c - Are Are you okay? - I just don't know if I should be driving in me state of emotions.
Oh, uh do you need me to go with you? Ooh, would you? Oh, you're a star.
Let me just go put me face on.
[Laughs.]
[Sighs.]
[bar door swings open.]
[Computer beeps.]
[Slurps.]
[Ominous music plays.]
Mm.
[Beeps.]
[Toilet flushes.]
All right, poshna, I'm ready.
Let's go get us a Haranguetank! - Can I help you? - Yes, you have my car.
License and registration.
But of course.
Here's my license! - Oh! - And here's my registration! [Laughs evilly.]
[Buzzer.]
Oh.
Attack! Pirate Captain: Nah, nah, nah, Ms.
Warrington.
Uh, this whole God gas business has been blown way out of proportion.
But, Pirate Captain, the video is clear proof that Venture Techno-industries is engaging in illegal and unethical mind-control experiments on human subjects.
No, no, no, t'was a private joke video made by a couple of extremely low-level employees in one of our wee subdivisions.
For the record, Ven-Tech is not working on no God gas.
Dr.
Venture: Well, I hope you enjoyed your $200 million cheeseburger, because our stock dropped 50 points today! My fault? How is it my fault? What? Who's that? White? Tell him no, we are not taking God gas to the Science Now conference.
[Powering up.]
Billy, I'll call ya back.
- Pirate Captain, the - What? Let me finish! [Explosion.]
Now, no, I've been taken out of context.
[Alarm blaring.]
But Pirate Captain Well, you have to give me a chance to [Sighs.]
Where the hell is it? - He said it'd be here.
- I don't know.
Hang on! I'm gonna check the next aisle.
- I think I see something blue.
- Hurry up! The poison in those darts is from the '70s.
If it didn't kill him, the guard might wake up any minute feeling groovy! [Groans.]
Ah! What the Oh, oh, lady! [War cries.]
What is wrong with you?! All you had to do is pay the ticket! I hate [bleep.]
coppers.
[Gagging, coughing.]
Greetings, Dr.
Venture.
I am Think Tank, - and I will be your nemesis this evening.
- Uh Brock? I know, Doc, I'm on it.
Just get to the panic room, stat.
- Uh, not really an option.
- Sit, Dr.
Venture.
Please.
I do apologize for the rather theatrical entrance, but I find a bold opening always makes for a more spirited game.
And I intend to enjoy ours to the fullest.
The Guild has of late seen fit to mismatch me against a procession of muscle-bound subhumans and caped half-wits, but in you, my good doctor, I finally have an adversary worthy of my prodigious intellect.
- So, shall we match wits? - What? Oh.
- [Chuckles.]
I don't really play.
- Oh, you you don't? More of a parcheesi man.
Got one of those in your little glove box? Oh.
Oh, dear.
I can't say this isn't a disappointment.
I had this whole thing planned.
Look, could we move this along? I've already been arched twice this week, and, frankly, it's getting old.
- What do you want? - Ah.
What does any man want, Dr.
Venture? Nietzsche once wrote, - "The true man wants dan" - Oh, Jesus, all right! That's it.
[Dialing.]
Who Who are you calling? Guild of calamitous intent.
Uh, yes, hi.
This is Dr.
Thaddeus S.
Venture.
I'd like to register a complaint.
Ah, you want customer service.
Please hold while I connect you.
Customer service.
Debbie speaking.
Wha oh, hi, Debbie? This is Dr.
Thaddeus S.
Venture.
[Elevator bell dings.]
- I have an issue with a new arch you sent me.
- Ah, here comes your knight.
So it's to be the king's indian defense, is it? And you said you didn't play.
Hmm? [War cries.]
Hmm.
[Grunting.]
This is getting ridiculous.
How am I supposed to get any work done around here when these clowns keeps showing up? And this new one, he's a talker.
Well, we're very sorry to hear you're dissatisfied with your service, Dr.
Venture.
Would you mind holding while I pull up the details of your account? Uh [electronic lounge music plays.]
[Sighs.]
[Clinking.]
- Oh.
Oh, god.
- Oh! No, still smells of him.
[Chuckles.]
Whiskey, cheap Chinese cigarettes, and the sweat of a man who may or may not have been part ape.
This is the Haranguetank? Aye, home sweet home.
Can I get you something? Whiskey? No, I think we should just go.
- Wait, you live in this thing? - Aah! Ow! [Rustling.]
What was that? [Gasps.]
Parkies on patrol! - [Groans.]
Owie.
- Psst! Quit screwing around! Found it.
[Glug! Glug! Glug!.]
Dr.
Mrs.
The Monarch: You?! [Suspenseful music plays.]
[Whimpers.]
Wait here.
Ha! Too slow that time, stink tank.
Looks like we got ourselves a good old-fashioned stalemate.
No, we do not.
Your position is untenable, Mr.
Samson.
I need only to increase my force field's power to sever your brachial artery.
Yeah? Then you'd be drowning in my blood.
Ha! Now who's untenable? I have a high-velocity cannon pointed at your chest.
I could dodge it.
[Electronic lounge music plays.]
Come on, come on.
Henchman: Sorry to keep you waiting.
Oh, thank God.
Look, I've been Did you now you can now pay your Guild dues online? - Damn it to hell! - Simply log in - Oh.
- So, what? - You're stalking me now? - Wha What? No.
- Dude, I'm just - Relax.
I'm just messing with you.
Hey, so, [sighs.]
sorry if I was weird this morning.
It's cool.
I think this makes us even.
I'm just not one for pillow talk, you know? I-I've got a lot going on right now, what, with my career, my alter ego, my alter ego's career Yeah, I kind of got a lot going on myself right now.
- That Think Tank guy just - Whoa, whoa, Think Tank? Oh, do not even tell me that pompous son of a gorgon is messing with my man.
I know who you are, Blue Morpho! Come on out, coward! Show yourself! [Car door closes.]
Battleaxe: Ohh, flamin' Nora, what's keepin' the woman? [Gulps.]
Well, posh pattie won't mind if we just check our e-mails.
What's this, then? [Gasps.]
[Crying.]
Oh, there you are, me big strappin' husband.
[Normal voice.]
Ooh, look at how handsome you are in your leathers.
Dr.
Mrs.
The Monarch: I am going to [bleep.]
kill you.
Do you hear me? - What is your wife doing here? - Hello? - I do not know.
- I know you're in there.
If you're trying to hide, you shouldn't have picked a place with your big [bleep.]
face on it.
- She kind of has a point.
- Shut up and get us out of here.
[Engine starts.]
Nice try, but you're not gonna get very far with that boot on your car.
Now come out of there with your hands up.
Battleaxe: Ooh! [Gasps.]
Oh, I can't watch! [Crying.]
Do you hear me? I'm not [bleep.]
with you! You have three seconds.
Hold on a tick.
One [Both whimpering.]
Battleaxe: Oh, you - two - Ooh, you're a sly one.
three.
[Bullet ricochets.]
- Aah! - Oh! Oh! Oh, my God, oh, my God! What's happening? - What? Oh, oh! Hey! - Aah! [Engine starts.]
Battleaxe: Venture! [Tires screech.]
Henchman: Okay, Dr.
Venture, now I'm going to give you your case number.
You will need to keep it handy in case we get disconnected.
Do you have a pen? Uh, yeah, hang on.
- G-O-F-6-2-2.
- Hang Hang on.
Oh, come on.
- [Chuckles.]
Sucker.
- Follow that Blue Morpho mobile.
[Engine starts, tires squeal.]
Uh, hello? [Groans.]
All right, think guy.
If you're such a super genius, can you think of a way to get cheap pen out of expensive speedsuit? [Metal clangs.]
Ah, didn't see that move coming, did you? We call that an "in your face checkmate.
" Well, I call it an "unsanctioned team-up.
" [Grunts.]
The Guild will hear of this.
Yeah, good luck with that.
[Grunts.]
What do you say we take this unsanctioned team-up back to my place and make it official? All right, but, uh no butt stuff this time, okay? - I liked it! - May I go? - Henchman: Oh, my God, that was so [bleep.]
close! - Monarch: Ah! Yes! God! Amazing! [Laughs.]
I love you, daddy! Mwah! Hey, we should totally swing over the Venture building! What? No! We're not gonna swing anywhere! - We're gonna bring this thing home! - Come on! Just a quick fly-by! I want to take a dump in his pool.
Be like old times.
That skeevy little bastard! Stay on him.
It's a straightaway.
He's turning! Oh, my God.
It looks like he's headed for [Monarch laughs crazily.]
[Ominous music plays.]
Battleaxe: Ohh, don't you worry, Ronnie.
Your old Battleaxe will avenge ya, darlin'.
Prepare for battle, Venture, 'cause here comes the axe! Whoa, what's that up in the road a head? - Taxi? - Dr.
Nidaba? What's he doing at our house? Waiting for all the king's horses and all the king's men? [Horn blaring.]
Whoa! [All screaming.]
Dr.
Mrs.
The Monarch: Watch where you're going! - Watch! - Ahh, what the hell is that?! Curse o' the Blue Jesus! [All screaming.]
[Screams.]
Whoa! Huh? [Groans.]
[Screaming.]
Oh, for now what? [Metal clangs.]
[Film noir music plays.]
[Theme music plays.]
[Sighs.]
[Soft music plays.]
[Footsteps on stairs.]
Someone had a very busy day.
Ah, the vestibule looks great, honey.
Yeah, it's, uh, starting to look like a real home now, huh, honey? Aw, I'm s I'm sorry about this morning.
I guess it's the stress of the job and the home and all this - Oh, no, it's - You are not the enemy, sweetie.
[Smooches.]
[Sighs.]
I know who my enemy is.
Battleaxe: Chirp, you slut.