03x14 - Fly Boy

[bunniefuu]

[ loud whooshing ]

Here we go.

Thank you. Thank you.

Another perfect landing.

Primo idea, wearing the goggles, Wy.

Now I just got to worry about
keeping the bugs out of my teeth.

You sure you don't want
to try your pair? It's k*ller.

Three quick pumps on Lisa's
helium hi-tops and I'm kissing sky.

Gary.

- You were spotted.
- Again.

When Lisa zapped up those flying shoes
you promised to keep a low profile.

Hey, I have been.
I'm a stealth b*mber.

So you don't know anything about this
UFO that mooned a British airways flight?

You try keeping your pant up
at mach two.

So I had little fun.
Big Whoops.

What can happen?

- I'm Special Agent Scolder.
- I'm Special Agent Molly.

- FBI.
- We're here to Investigate the UFO.

- Any luck?
- Not much.

Just keep repeating "A glowing
swizzle stick tried to gut me."

- Doesn't make any sense.
- Why does everything have to make sense?

Can science explain why aliens
abducted my Jack Russell Terrier?

Can science explain
the Mutant Worm Boy of Tacoma?

The Scandinavian Leech Beavers?
The vampires who crashed my bar mitzvah?

A swizzle stick form the sky?
Makes all the sense in the world, Molly.

Trying to hurt my feelings?

Gary's been enjoying his sneakers
and you haven't tried yours on.

I got this thing about heights.
My ears pop on a step stool.

Come on.
What have you got to lose?

My lunch.

Don't you think Gary's going
too public with this flying gig?

So someone saw him.

It's not like anyone's
closing in on our airline.

The Java Man coffeehouse,
originally opened in 1968

as Dr. Rainbow's cosmic muffin hut.

Closed down by local
authorities shortly afterwards.

How come?
Controversial brownie recipe?

No.
A series of health code violations.

Molly, I was make a joke.

Oh.
We should have a signal for that.

Mmm.

Really, Scolder,
do you expect to find

your purported extraterrestrial
visitor in a coffeehouse?

After traveling 180,000 light years
wouldn't you need a little perk-me-up?

Did you catch that one?

Yes, I did.

But I just didn't find it particularly funny.

Fair enough.

I say we sit here,
order a couple of frapachinos

and keep our eyes
open for anything unusual.

Thank you very much, loser.

- Are you cheating?
- Excuse me?

Sorry. It's just...

Ladies and gentlemen we'd like to
remind you that abroad this flight

there are no rules,
no seat belts and no peanuts.

Thanks for flying air Gary.

[ screaming ]

Bad turbulence.
Bad turbulence.

Mayday. Mayday!

[ Screaming ]

I'm on my way.

There's been another UFO sighting.

Something apparently crashed to Earth.
They need me at the Coroner's office.

You go ahead.
I'll be fine here.

Extensive tissue damage
suggests the subject crashed

from a height of
approximately 12,000 feet.

Internal contents show the
last meal to consist of white bread,

bologna, mustard, and what appears
to be cheese possibly cheddar.

Said contents indicate a juvenile appetite.

Bite radius concurs.

In conclusion evidence begs
the question--

Who or what dropped
a bologna sandwich from 12,000 feet?

On a stakeout, huh?

No black and white,
no cherries on top.

- You're a G-Man, aren't you?
- You're obstructing a federal investigation.

I knew it. FBI.

A real live FIB-EE.
Hot chow.

Hey, how many guys have you,
you know... taken out?

Only one.
But we went dutch.

- That's a joke.
- [ laughs ]

Anyway, I've dreamed all
my life of being a fed.

I've applied like 400 times.
Chet Donnelly.

- Sound familar?
- Donnelly?

So you live at that residence?

Yeah.
Well, it's only temporary.

How'd you like to give us a hand
in this investigation... Chet?

Would I?

Oh, yes!

Wyatt, your brother's
outside talking to the FBI.

What?

- Are you sure it's the FBI?
- I've seen him at the Java Man.

We're under surveillance.

Okay. Don't panic.

We'll be all right as long
as Gary stays out of sight.

[ loud whooshing ]

Whew. You wouldn't believe
the turbulence up there.

Nasty. I came this close
to a 12,000 foot belly flop.

Got anything in the fridge?
I lost my sandwich during re-entry.

Forget your sandwich.
I think the FBI has got you staked out.

She's not kidding, Gary.
There's some guy across the street.

Leave it to me.

[ knocking ]

Housekeeping.
Got to clean your room.

You look familiar.
Have we met?

Wait by the ice machine
while I scrub your tub.

Strange.
You clean these rooms

and yet you forget
there's no bathtub in this unit.

And if I didn't know better
I'd say you were the mystery woman

- from the Donnelly Residence.
- Maybe.

I've seen things that I can't explain--
UFO's, time manipulation and now...

Here you are.

You seem to be in the middle of it.
I just want answers.

That's exactly what I want from you.

Mr. Smarty-Pants.

"At this point in the investigation,
I believe the UFO may be linked

to an extraterrestrial organism
of superior intelligence..."

This is rich.
We have nothing to worry about.

I can take a hint.

You don't want to be bothered.
I'll have the morning girl come in.

- You just got here.
- Watch it or your tub will overflow.

[ water running ]

The only thing extraordinary
is the size of the bath ring.

That tube was a shower
before she came.

Your mystery woman
really knows her grout.

In 1959, three Soviet Georgian Yak
Herders inexplicably burst into flame.

In 1962, a glowing cloud of
Wood Mites destroyed

all the Nylon in a Northwestern
fishing village.

in 1974, a man the size
of a walnut was captured

and interrogated by
South American freedom fighters.

What does this have to do
with the UFO sightings?

Damn.
I had it a second ago.

I hate it when that happens.

Could it be your mind is
preoccupied with the beauitful,

mysterious grout woman?

I must confess
there is something about her...

[ knocking ]

It's our star witness who
I'm hoping can fill us in

on grout girl and our UFO.

[ panting ]

I'm sorry I'm late.
Mom made me take out the garbage.

Wow. Cool room.
You guys live the life.

Chet, I'd like you to meet
Special Agent Molly.

Mr. Donnelly.

Ma'am.

Mr. Donnelly.

Chet, we need to ask you
some questions.

Have you ever been hypnotized?

- Do you think he's under?
- I think he's comatose.

Understand.
We have to delicately peel away

the subconscious layer by layer
before drawing any repressed memories.

Chet.
Do you hear my...?

Mommy, why can't I play
with the dollies?

Can I have another fizzle?
I don't want to go.

Kindergarten's full of bullies
and scary girls.

Um, let's jump ahead to the present.

Okay, Chet?

Have you ever encountered
a caucasian female,


brunette, full pouting lips

with eyes you could fall into
and never hit bottom?

We think that this individual may
possess certain... paranormal abilities.

Do you know such a woman?

My head... electricity.

[ screams ]
My skull's Fl*ttening!

My eyes rolling
off the top of my head!

Whoa.

Where'd Wyatt snag
a set of curves like her?

What's she doing now?
My head, it's expanding like a balloon!

No, wait!
It's... it's getting smaller.

No bigger than a can of spackle.
In the sky!

What's that... flying man?!

Can... spam... clam... yam.

I am what I am.
I am a yam!

Banzai!

Direct hit.

Yes.

Enemies damp.
City locked in fear.

Mission accomplished.
Time to head home.

You heard him.

He identified a "flying man."

That's got to be our UFO
we've finally got a lead.

What we have is a seriously
disturbed ex-marine.

A flattened head?

Delusions like that are way
beyond paranoid-schizophrenia.

[ loud whooshing sound ]

FBI.
You're under arrest.

It's intuitive grasp of
our language is amazing.

He's nothing more than
a high school student

seeking attention
by climbing onto his roof.

Come on, Molly.
Look at that hair.

That face.

Clever simlulation
but no human looks like that.

What does he look like
on the inside, I wonder?

Thank you for securing him
but our visitor is in my hands now.

He'll be transferred to Bethesda
where the surgeons will cut him open.

Split his brain.
Poke around.

See how it is he--
or it-- can fly.

Nobody's poking around my brain!

I want to talk to my lawyer!
I want to talk to my congressman!

I want to talk to Connie Chung!

This is great.

Gary's missing and
you're just standing there.

He could be anywhere.
Aren't you worried?

No. I implanted a homing beacon
in his skull while he was napping.

See?

That show us where Gary is.

So what's that one?

That's the one in your skull.

- Oh, no!
- What?! What?! What?!

The FBI's captured Gary
and they're going to dissect him.

Oh, God.
What are we going to do?

Don't tell me--

- You're here to mop the bunker.
- Sorry.

No time for snappy repartee.

You should be frozen.

When you came to my room
I synchronized these watches.

I put one in my pocket
the other in the bedside table.

After you left there was a seven minute
discrepancy between them.

Well, what's a little
time-warping between friends?

Your tricks won't work
as long as that functions.

It's a de-ionization field dampener.

I figured your powers were electric.

It eradicates charged ionic particles
effectively neutralizing your powers.

How did you know?

After you left my socks
were inexplicably clingy.

Lisa?

Get me out of here!

I don't want anything
to happen to him.

I just want to know
your connection to this.

Her connection?

That will be determined once
we've dissected her as well, Agent Scolder.

And so ends another perfect day
with Lisa, the K-Mart genie.

Bite me, Wallace.

I guess it's up to Wyatt
to save us now.

And now batting clean-up for
the Philadelphia Phillies is Wyatt.

[ imitating an echo ]
Wyatt! Oh, man!

They got Lisa too?

This is great!

This is just great!

Hang on, guys.

The cavalry is on the way...

unless the cavalry get
sucked into a jet engine.

Look, Agent Scolder.
You've got to let Gary go.

He's not an alien.
He's just a boy.

Nothing special-- complete zero.

Two skinny legs some freaky hair
a face you could grease a skillet with.

I think he gets the idea.

Why does he have
a homing beacon in his skull?

I'll explain it later.

I'd like to help you.
The trouble is I know you can fly.

I just don't know how.

I know you're capable of time
manipulation and probably much more.

I just can't prove it...
but I will.

Believe me, I will.

[ screaming ]

Scolder...
we got a report from Norad.

- A second UFO is heading this way.
- Wyatt?

- Friend of yours?
- Not so long.

A second UFO can only foreshadow
a potential invasion.

The commitee has ordered
a preemptive strike.

As I speak, the trident
laser-guided m*ssile

has been launched to bring it down.

We've got to do something fast.

You're right.

You wanted to truth, Agent Scolder?

The truth isn't out there--
it's here.

- Right in front of you.
- Go on.

I'm not... human.

[ gasps ]

[ growls ]
Go ahead.

Put on the shoes.
Flying's fun. [ growls ]

So that's how Gary and
Wyatt created me.

I can't explain the physics,

but here I am every bit
as magical as you suspected.

You don't actually believe this,
do you?

I know you believe us
if you don't unplug

your de-ionizer
and give me back my powers

Wyatt's going to be spread over
the southwest like a handful of mulch.

Please. I'm the only one
who can save him.

But if I let you go...
my proof is gone as well.

Scolder, that's federal prisoner.
You can't let her go.

- I'm running out of time.
- I've been waiting

my whole life for someone like you--
evidence that the paranormal does exist.

Please.

Thank you.

Of course, you realize
I have to erase your memory.

What a shame.
Nothing to remember you by.

Except this.

I'm going to hate not being
able to remember that.

What did you do to him?

Erased his memory
like I'm about to do to you.

Ooh! Lis, give me a sec.

Okay. She's all your's.

My lips are tingly.

So are mine.

Whoa! Lisa! Thank God.

- Now get us out of here!
- Wait!

We have to disarm thre m*ssile.

Oh, man!
Which wire do we cut?

In the movies,
the live wire is always the red one.

But sometimes the red wire's
a decoy for the b*mb squad.

- So, not the red one?
- You asking me or telling me?

- Huh?
- What?

- Speak up!
- What?

Excuse me.

[ yells ]

You guys watch too many movies.

The case of the flying boy
was never solved.

Though Agent Molly Chalks
it all up to mass hysteria

I still feel there was
something bigger behind it

and though my work's too often
an intangible fabric of ether

stitched together with cobwebs,
void of any certainties

I know the truth is out there--
somewhere.

ALL:
Yee-ha! Yippee! Whoo!