Robot Chicken s11e10 Episode Script

1 It's alive! This is the worst case of TMJ I've ever seen.
So, what went wrong, Peppa? What went wrong? Every single [bleep.]
thing! All right I'm a cartoon pig whose whole purpose in life is to make mistakes so kids learn from 'em.
Mistake number one splashing around in a puddle without first checking me surroundings.
- You dickies soiled me monkey! - Oh! Get me a new one by tomorrow, or it's your loaf of bread, pig.
There, there, Peppa.
I got a gapin' head wound, ya nit! Get off my knee! - Peppa! - Only one place that sells that monkey Tony Turtle's Toy Store.
£5? We haven't got that kind of sausage and mash.
If there's one thing I've learned as a didactic TV pig, it's that if we work together, we can accomplish anything - even armed robbery! - "Armed robbery"?! But, Peppa, that's ba-a-a-ad! - I won't be part of it.
- You're a bloody sheep! - You'll do whatever I say.
- Okay.
Now, come on.
Let's put a crew together.
Ah, I got it.
Unfortunately, I still had one lesson to learn piggies always squeal.
Daddy, Peppa committed an armed robbery.
Armed robbery, eh? Well, Daddy, Pig might be clumsy and fat and forgetful, but he knows how to call the police on naughty piglets.
Now, what's the number for British 911? Sorry, Daddy.
They ain't puttin' Peppa in a pig pen.
One gunshot, two gunshot! Right, this was all over a stuffed monkey, then.
Hmm.
When you put it that way, I sound a bit of a wanker.
Kids, don't be a wanker.
- Looking fresh to death! - Ugh! Your face! What do you wash with, bar soap?! - Doesn't everybody? - Girl, please.
- You're peeling.
- I was burned alive in a boiler room! The same difference.
Lucky you, all I watch are YouTube makeup tutorials! Narrative content is dead.
It's an easy 27 1/2-step process.
Exfoliate, moisturize, rinse, repeat, tap.
Don't rub that's the secret.
- Exfoliate, moisturize, rinse, repeat - This is torture! Tap, don't rub, that's the Beauty is pain! - So, what do you think? - Well, I'm terrified by how good I look.
- Right?! - We had so much fun! It's really a shame I'm going to kill you now.
Or we could do face masks! Okay, first the face masks, and then I'm gonna kill you.
Um, Captain, the trash alien is attacking, and I think there's something wrong with the weapons.
Your guns are locked until you solve each math problem! But, sir, I-I could die.
We believe a life without math is not worth living! Zero plus seven is seven.
Uh, two minus one equals one.
Three minus eight equals five.
I-I-I mean I mean, negative five! Oh no, your ship is damaged! You'd better fix it with math! What?! Okay, it's, uh Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally.
[Bleep.]
Why didn't I take that English job in Typing Town?! Ooh-ooh-ooh! Ah-ah-ah-ah.
Ah! Ah! Ah! Augh! Ah-ah-ah! Ah-ah-ah-ah! George, you all right in there? It's time for dinner! Oh, my God, George! - Headshot! - George! - No! Huh?! - It had to be done.
He was getting too close to the Avril Lavigne theory - for his own good.
- Operation "Sk8er Boi" is complete.
- We'll need you to sign this NDA.
- Oh, okay.
Maybe adopt a real kid next time.
Window exit! Oh, George, why? What's this? "Rory should have ended up with Dean on 'Gilmore Girls'?" [Bleep.]
Dean?! Oh, George! I raised you better than this.
Mr.
President, let me just say we are so excited to be working with you to make socially conscious content.
We were thinking maybe a documentary about health care.
Or a prestige drama about a family on the south side of Chicago.
Um, I had something else in mind.
And let me be clear Ah, no, thanks.
"Barack Obama: Dino Destroyer" Boom, baby.
Why you taking a nap? Gotcha, bitch.
- That's what I do.
- He rides a raptor - All day.
- And his raptor's name is Paul Michelle's in it too That's right, baby.
Oh, Barack, you know I love watching you kill those dinos! Ah, put those two lips on me.
Coming soon to Netflix.
Pa-pow-pow! Bam! Barack in your face, baby.
Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary! Bloody Mary! Bloody Mary, hi.
You've been served.
- Oh.
- Sorry about your divorce.
Ha ha! Believe me, I'm not.
Bloody Dan is a piece of shit, and I've gone on record about it.
Who goes there? I smell you, little thief in the shadows.
I'm sorry, great and powerful Smaug.
You must be very small, little thief, so small that you could hide anywhere behind the gold, behind the gems, maybe even up my butt, perhaps.
Uh, w-why would I hide up your butt? When one sleeps beneath the mountain, one thinks of many things the value of gold, the age of the world, the feel of little feet and hands pitter-pattering inside this scaly folds of your fiery prostate.
L-Look, I just came here to steal some gold.
I'm not trying to Richard Gere you.
What? That was an urban legend.
Let's leave Richard out of this.
You know, for an adventurer, you really don't seem very adventurous.
- Okay, I'm just gonna go.
- Or I could go up your butt.
Hmm, um, leaving instead.
Someday, Smaug, someday.
My name is Tom Nook.
The year I turned 19 I made 49 trillion bells, which actually kind of pissed me off because it was three shy of a trillion a week.
I started in sales.
My boys and I got a commission on anything we bought or sold, so we bought and sold everything.
We found an island in international waters where the feds couldn't reach us.
Pretty soon I'd conned people into joining us.
Once they were there, they needed a house.
And who sold the houses? You got it me.
Real estate was easy.
Before they knew it, some sucker had paid two billion bells for a five-room house full of clothes and Bunny Day eggs.
Can you imagine? I was married, till I met Isabelle.
She was blond, gorgeous, irrationally chipper.
Plus I figured she'd like it doggy style which she did not.
I mean, we were into everything you know, repackaging subprime turnip debt, dealing counterfeit art through pirates, smuggling endangered bugs.
Was it illegal? Nah.
But if you want to get rich, you got to be an animal.
Looks like Bethany got veneers.
Oh, that lucky bitch.
Mama! Papa! My draft card came! - I'm going to Vietnam! - Oh! Dear God! Papa, we have to send him to Canada.
Nonsense.
Fievel, America has given us so much.
Now it is time for you to return the favor in blood ideally, not yours.
But give those Viet cats hell, son.
This is my "mouse-ket.
" There are many like it, but this one is mine.
Why the hell are you crying, Mousekewitz? Sir! I just miss my family, sir! The Army's your family now, rodent! - Now drop and give me 20! - One I've seen cancer mice stronger than you! Hopefully we can defeat the enemy so we can all go home soon.
Enemy? Look around, kid.
There's no enemy.
America is the enemy.
But America's a good country where there are no cats.
Then why the [bleep.]
are we out here? Someplace across the sea Under the moon of cheese Aah! You gave up our position, asshole! Huh? No! Aaah! Well, I underestimated you, Mousekewitz.
- You're a goddamn hero.
- But, sir, I killed all those cats.
Son, you were born to kill cats.
Burn, baby! You want a hit? It's catnip.
Makes ya see things.
America.
America is the enemy.
Kill cats.
Kill 'em! I love watching you do it.
Hey, Fievel, I'm Don Bluth.
I created you.
Neat, huh? That's got to cause some existential conflict.
- Holy shit.
- Incoming! Ugh! Fievel's awake! My legs.
Oh, who needs legs? We'll get you a skateboard.
- You're a hero, son.
- Where's Tanya? - Tanya? - Kitty killer! Come on, Fievel.
Let's go home.
I don't know if I ever can.
Some mice are born built to run the maze Others go crying home to mom I lost my way in all those twists and turns But I lost my dick in Vietnam American cheese, American cheese Might be made from old tires American cheese, American cheese It never, ever expires