01x01 - Junk in the Trunk

[bunniefuu]

Ha ha ha ha!

It's alive!

Oh, my God! What's happening?!

What is it...
look at the size of it!

Why didn't we bring a g*n?!

This is the true story...

Of seven strangers...

Picked to live in house...

And have their lives taped...

To find out what happens
when people stop being polite...

and start getting real.

The Real World: Metropolis.

Ugh! People in this hellhole...

just don't respect
personal property.

Listen, I know someone's been
in my underwear drawer.

OK, which one of
you perverts was it?

Because it's sick.

You chicks
are seriously paranoid.

I fold them in a very
particular way, Falcon...

in little squares.

It was probably you.

Aah! It not Hulk! Hulk swear!

Of course it was the Hulk.

Aah!

It was me.

Hello, Kitty!

Raow!

Listen, uh, I don't mean
to be nitpicky or anything...

but, um, the living room hasn't
been vacuumed in weeks and...

Hey, Waterman, I was busy...

you know...

realigning the planet...
or something.

But you drew vacuuming out of
the job jar and everyone else...

Face it.
Who's gonna save Earth...

from a giant meteor
while Superman's vacuuming?

You? I don't think so.

I could.

Hey!

Nobody seems to understand
how useful I am, you know?

I'm... I'm really capable.

I can do lots of stuff,
you know? Lots!

I can do stuff like, um...

Like... like, I can...

You know, I, uh...

They still haven't forgiven me
for that stupid party.

Come on, baby!

Who wants to pet this [Bleep]?

I mean, what is this place,
some kind of nun factory?

I just...

Ha ha.

Got to go! Got to go! Aah!

Hey, uh, occupied. Occupied!

Hey!

Hey. What's up?

Justice never sleeps.

Oh, man, I wanna be red.

I hate black.

Oh, it's like that?

So I'm the token
black superhero, huh?

Well, they might've wanted
Tim Meadows...

but they got the Falcon...

and you damn well better
respect the Falcon.

Of course, I don't really have
any superpowers.

Man, my costume sucks.

Come and get it, little guys.

Hello?

I know you can hear me.
I'm Aquaman.

Trouble at home?

Answer me, you little b*tches!

If you leave your towels
on the bathroom floor...

we start getting
that mildew smell.

It's gross!

Have a little common courtesy
for the rest of us.

The bat signal.

Huh. I wonder where he's
always going in such a hurry.

My good plates!

Dishes done.

Despite my best efforts...

fitting in here continues
to be quite a chore.

It... confounds me.

On my plates.
My good china plates.

Relax, Wondergirl.

What did you just call me?

L... I am the night!

Wondergirl? Huh. Wondergirl.

Let me tell you something
about Batman, OK?

He's the same as the rest
of these guys around here.

They're afraid of women.

They're afraid
of the almighty uterus.

Almighty uterus!

Next time on Real World...

I don't see why you're so upset.

What do you need men for
anyway, huh?

How about a smile?

There you go.

I'll do it. I'll do it, man.
I'll totally do it.

You won't do it.

Yahtzee!

That's it!

For America!

Where's the bunny?

Wiggle your big toe.

Great.

I am Jesus, you know.

Hyah!

Oy!

Five-fingered palm of death.

Let me try that again.

Thanks.

It's what I do.

You didn't think it would be
that easy, did you?

For a second there...

yeah, I kind of did.

Your change, sir.

Khan!

Khan!

The next hot game show has
just been imported from Japan.

You want million dollar?!

You win crazy smile face
million dollar!

First, you eat.

Food is power.

The power!

Who poop last?

You win one million
Mr. Mighty Joe dollar...

when you poop last!

Who poop last? Mao! Mao!

Who Poop Last?!

I'm Bill Clinton.
I'm gonna push over that cow.

Ooh, there I go! I did it!
Whoo whoo!

Welcome to another thrilling
edition of Zombie Idol.

Last week, America voted
in record-shattering numbers.

In fact, phone lines
were jammed so badly...

that major metropolitan areas
temporarily lost service.

Hundreds died.

It all started
with the auditions...

as the reanimated corpses
of rock 'n' roll...

all competed
for a spot on our show.

Past performances from zombies
such as John Lennon...

and the Beach Boys
tore up our stage.

Competition
has been hot and heavy.

It's time to meet our judges.

Give it up for Frankenberry.

Yeah. Yeah, dawg. Yeah.

Let's hear it for Boo Berry.

I hope our contestants
just have fun...

and, you know, be themselves...

and pretty,
pretty space people...

and a puppy.

And last
and certainly not least...

please welcome Count Chocula.

Well, I certainly hope
tonight's performances...

are better than last week's
ghastly affair.

Nice outfit.

Isn't it gauche to wear
brown after Labor Day?

I don't know, Ryan.
Isn't it gauche...

to be a complete douchebag
on national TV each week?

Not when you're paid like me.

It's time for our first
performance of the evening.

Here's Bob Marley.

Yeah, dawg. You did your thing.

Marmalade.

Dreadful.

Don't forget
to text message your votes...

at the end of the show...

because phone companies
make far more money that way.

It's time to check in now...

with our very own
roving reporter Kristin Holt.

What kind of hijinks
are going on backstage, Kristin?

Ryan, the zombies
are going wild...

after one of the children from
the Grant-A-Wish Foundation...

fell and cracked his head open.

Brains.

It's like some kind
of feeding frenzy.

L.A. Woman...

There's only one way
to stop a zombie.

Blow their [Bleep]
heads off, baby.

Don't forget
to tell them about...

all the great deals
at Radio Shed, Ving.

Don't forget to vote, everybody.

Good night from Zombie Idol.

Seacrest out.

Brains.