07x18 - The Hobbit: There and Bennigan's

[bunniefuu]

[Thunder crashes]

[Laughs evilly]

[Sawing]

[Electricity crackles]

It's alive!

[Thunder crashes]

[Laughs evilly]

[Smooch!]

[Laughs evilly]

[Insects chirping]

Honey, why don't you
just try counting sheep?

Does that really work?

Just give it a try.

[Sighs]

, , , , , ...

[sheep bleating]

... , , , !

Move it, sheep! Jump, jump!

Listen up.

You have one job...
to help humans fall asleep.

Fail and we'll turn
your asses into lamb chops!

, you're late!

[Bleating]
My name is Samuel.

Now, let that be a
lesson to all you...

My name is Samuel.

My name is Samuel.

My name is Samuel!

What the the f*ck.
All right, stay...

stay back!

Stay back!

[Screaming]

[Yawns]

Hey, how'd you sleep?

Eh, fine.

[Both grunting]

You're pretty good, Misty.

Better than you, Ash.

Oh, darn!

Ash! Why have we been playing
tennis with a pokéball?

Pikachu pissed on my rug.

[Groaning]

Damn right.

[Singing operatically]

[Cheers and applause]

Hold my Oakleys!

Huh!

No, no, no, no!

[Vacuum cleaner runs]

Get your penis out
of the vacuum cleaner.

[Vacuum cleaner shuts off]

Family, after nearly k*lling you
on a ski trip to the Himalayas,

I saved your lives by giving
each of you bionic implants.

Let's use these cool new
powers as the Bionic Six!

[All cheering]

Uh, hon, maybe we should be
grateful we're alive and not...

The Bionic Six!

Open wide!

You just got
eighty-bionic-sixed!

[Grunts]

Dad, turns out hitting
homers isn't a superpower.

Aah!

Bionic Five!

Eric?

Uh, his code
name is Sports- .

He's our son and he's dead,
you assh*le!

We're getting a divorce.

Bionic Four!

Hyah!

[g*nf*re]

Bionic Three!

You k*lled my brother!

Aah!

Bionic Two!

We never had any training!

[Groans]

Bionic One!

Only now do I see that
bionics solve nothing.

I am out of work!

It is every parent's worst
nightmare to outlive

their child.

I will treasure each of the
years I had with my sweet,

beloved Andrew.

Hold my Oakleys, brah.

Andrew was way too p*ssy
to surf a wave like this.

Yeah!

I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore.

This curse is at Stage .

You only have
six months to live.

[Sighs]

But try to look on
the bright side.

You're a highly educated Wizard.

I'm sure you've done something
really great with your life.

I teach high school.

Oh. Well, I'll leave
you alone to cry.

[Door opens]

Scalpus badassus.

[Twinkle! Twinkle! Twinkle!]

["Breaking Bad" - like
theme plays]

We will create a money-making
potion to fund your w*r

with Voldemort long
after I'm gone.

Wolfsbane, fluxweed,
packages of sudafed?

This sounds like the dark arts.

It's what your parents
would've wanted, Harry.

I'll do it!

Well done, Ms. Granger.

Your batch is % pure.

And Mr. Weasley...

Oh, no! Ron!

The most useless of our trio!

Relax, Hermione.

Untrained students mixing
potentially fatal potions

are no big deal at Hogwarts.

See? He's perf...
Oh, my God!

[Thud]

Children, have you learned
nothing from your annual

near-death adventures?

Magic heals anything.

Makes it hard to care about
the consequences, frankly.

He'll be good as new!

[Insects chirping]

[Humming]

I don't think so, Harry.

Professor snape said he wouldn't
drink your potions with

Bea Arthur's d*ck.

- Yeah.
- Yeah, come on.

Quick! Use the magic
words Dumbledore gave us!

BOTH:
The first taste is free!

You know, I always thought
Bea Arthur was attractive.

Okay, class.

As you know from your reading, a
hydra's temperature can only be

taken rectally.

Any volunteers?

Children?
By merlin's merkin!

[Mumbling]

Hagrid is going to blow the
lid off our entire operation,

Professor!

I knew hiring a
-foot-tall mongoloid

would bite me in
the ass one day.

I'm on it.

I'm home, fang!

Come here, boy!

[Beeping]

Fang!

I did it!

Now I can...

[groans]

I got hit with a stray shell.

Seems kind of arbitrary after
such a tightly plotted rise to

infamy.

[Rock music playing]

[Banjo playing]

One man can be pretty
dumb sometimes,

but for real bona
fide stupidity,

there ain't nothing
can b*at teamwork.

[Chair creaks]

[Patriotic music plays]

[Straining]

[Squeak! Pop! Splat!]

Another perfect giraffe!

Oh, no.

That's too good to waste.

Hey, where's that birthday boy?

[Baby crying]

Can...
can I hold my baby?

You can hold your
baby's Oakleys.

[Hard-rock music plays,
crowd cheering]

[Bleats]

I finally figured out what's
wrong with you, Otis...

Male cows don't have udders.

Uh, right.

And neither do I.

I was born a hermaphrodite?

I, uh...

Oh, sweet cud.
I'm a girl. You got me.

[Laughter]

Oh, my god.

Was that a strap-on or...
oh, was that your hoof?!

What? You want to hate me for
pretending to be something

I'm not? Fine.

Then, Abby,
cows don't have blond hair!

[All gasp]

And, Bessie,
cows can't walk on two legs.

Our knees should explode
under this much weight.

Ow!

[Both scream]

Fantasy looks pretty good now,
huh, you judgmental b*tches?!

[Whistle!]
My balls!

[Whoosh!]
My vag*na!

Am I doing this wrong?

I think I'm doing this wrong.

Dear mother, I take pen in
hand to inform you that, today,

your son, Private Pizza,
became a k*ller.

Our platoon was on dawn
patrol when the enemy hit us.

Ambush! We got a...

b*ll*ts started flying and,
in that moment,

I couldn't tell my fellow
kitchen commandos

apart from our enemy,

the refrigerator rejects.

I felt powerless, until I saw

that greasy bastard
k*lling Major Munch.

A rage overtook me,
and I gave that fried freak

a closed-casket funeral.

I can't remember
why we fight anymore.

I pray that someday
this w*r ends,

a day when there is no meat
drawer, no veggie crisper,

just food and food alike
in one fridge, together.

Until that day, I am your son,
Private Pizza, st battalion,

Kitchen Commandos.

Aah!

su1c1de Taco!
Get down!

[Coughs]

[Weakly]
Nobody wins...

[coughs]

...in a food fight.

Let us begin this journey for
the Roman Catholic church.

Let us allow gays to marry
and maybe shut up once in

a while about abortion.

Hold my Oakleys.

Hey!

Aah!

So, Rapunzel, does the
carpet match the drapes?

Mm, you tell me.

You just climbed up the carpet.

Cobra has developed a
mind-control energy drink.

It even looks and smells
like asparagus piss,

just like the real thing.

Cobra is giving it away
at the X games, so...

never thought I'd say this...

This is a mission
for G. I. Joe...

Extreme.

ALL:
Extreme!

[Sighs]

Ballistic,
grab the Mountain Dew!

Metal-head,
crank up the smash mouth!

So, Duke, I got to ask...
why does G. I. Joe

have a unit for extreme tasks?

Eh, it was the ' s.

Harpoon, talk to the hand!

Not!

[Engine revs]

[Horn honks]

Do I spy a ninja with
bleached blond hair?

It's frosted tips, brah!

I'm bustin' moves,
extreme style!

Go-gurt!

Remember, you're undercover.

Don't call attention
to yourselves.

You heard the bro!

Chillax, you Ally McBeals!

Oh, you son of a...
take it easy, boss.

[Horn honks]

Listen up, fellow youth.

Snakebite energy drinks
are not cool!

[Whispers]

Or dope.

[Sea gull squawks]

I am sold!

It's ironic viral marketing!

Let's get a Snakebite!

Don't worry, Dawg.

I got this.

Who wants in?
Pretty sick, huh?

I got devil sticks, too.

[Sea gull squawks]

Let's get a Snakebite!

No fear!

No! We got to take
it to the Extreme!

Black Dragon?

Who wants to see
some gnarly shredding?

Uh, that's a
steep half-pipe.

Where's that ninja's helmet?

Don't need one.

Homey's got frosted tips!

Say no to Snakebite
energy drink!

Show me the money!

[cr*ck! Splat!]

[Sea gull squawks]

Well, time for the
most extreme option!

Target my location.

Let the dogs out.

Oh, my gosh.

Did you call an
air strike on us?

[Tires squeal]

Well, seems a little...

Say it!

Extreme.

[b*mb whistling]

Due to your extreme
negligence...

ALL:
Extreme!

...you are sentenced to death.

[Singing in Spanish]

♪ Hey, Maricopa ♪

[singing in Spanish]

♪ Hey, Maricopa ♪

Stupid Monkey!