03x01 - Whiff/To Be Bee or Not To Be Bee

[bunniefuu]

♪ Hakuna matata ♪

♪ what a wonderful phrase ♪

♪ hakuna matata ♪

♪ ain't no passing craze ♪

♪ it means no worries ♪

♪ for the rest of your days ♪

♪ it's our problem-free ♪

♪ philosophy ♪

♪ hakuna matata ♪

♪ yeah! ♪

♪ Hakuna matata! ♪

♪ Timon and Pumbaa! ♪

♪ Hakuna matata! ♪

♪ It means no worries ♪

♪ for the rest of your days ♪

♪ it's our problem-free ♪

♪ philosophy ♪

♪ hakuna matata ♪

♪ Timon and Pumbaa ♪

"Yea, do I say to thee, villain.

"Hear the cry of Lightning Lard,

"the pig powerful.

Oink!"

Pumbaa, there you are.
Listen, we got to get out of here.

Timon, wouldn't it be
great to be a superhero?

Like my most favoritest comic book
hero Lightning Lard, the pig powerful.

Well, you are a pig, but I wouldn't
exactly use the word "powerful."

Now, the storm.

Yes, Timon, it was a storm
that created Lightning Lard. See?

Once a mere mild-mannered hog.

He was struck by lightning
and granted superpowers

to fight for good
and nice things.

If I was Lightning Lard, I'd have
super strength, super speed,

and a sixth sense of danger.

Wait. I'm sensing danger now.

Ouch.

Pumbaa, are you okay?

Uhh! I feel, uh,
different, Timon.

In fact, I feel... super.

I've been struck by lightning,
just like Lightning Lard.

Oh, no.

Oh, yes.

I... I... I've been
chosen, Timon.

Pumbaa is no more!

I am Lightning Lard,
the pig powerful.

Pumbaa, you've just had
a very traumatic event,

what with a lightning bolt going
through your noggin and all.

I hate to break it to you,

but you're not lightning
lard any more than I am,

and do I look like
a superhero to you?

Hmm.

No.

- Ooh, hey, that tickles.
- Stop it.

You, my small friend,
look like a sidekick.

I, Lightning Lard, deem
thee Timon, the Boy Furry.

No, no, no. I don't
want to be a sidekick.

My sixth sense of
danger summons us.

Prepare for battle.

Pumbaa, I'm not doing this.

Hearken, Boy Furry.

My sixth sense of
danger is never wrong.

You better go save that bear.

Worry not, baby bear,

for Lightning Lard and
the Boy Furry are here.

When trouble comes
calling, we disconnect it.

Toll free.

Uh, wait. That catch
phrase doesn't quite work.

You're telling me.

How about, here I am to rescue
you from the danger that threatens you

and makes you feel
unsafe and not happy.

- No, hmm, let's see.
- The bear! The bear!

I'm going to hate
myself for this.

Whew!

Can you keep it down? I'm
trying to be heroic over here.

"Leave everything to moi ." no.

"I am vengeance.
I am the night."

Ah, safe and sound.

Ohh.

Baby. Oh, my baby.

You saved my baby.
Oh, you brave hero.

'It was nothing, madam.

I leap into danger as I
would a pair of pajamas.

Ooh, nice catch phrase, too.

Bye-bye.

I've done it again,
eh, Boy Furry?

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Hold it right there.

I did it, and let me say
I'm not doing it again.

My sixth sense of
danger strikes nigh.

This calls for my superior
strength and super speed,

perhaps one of my
many fighting styles.

- Best warm up first.
- Huh?

We got to save the baby bear,
Pumbaa. Suppose I get a cramp, hmm?

Not very heroic.

Two, three, four, duh.

Gotcha.

Ooh.

This time I better at least get
credit for saving you, sidekick or not.

I'm not letting go of you no
matter where you bite me.

Oh.

I'm still not letting go.

Not to worry, baby bear.

I have warmed up and
can save you again.

Hey, w...

Oh, my baby.

You hero. You've done it again.

Ooh.

Look at you. So
heroic and in shape.

Yes, madam.

Stretching is an important
part of being a superhero.

Thank you again.

So long, citizens. Be safe.

Oh, what are you doing
down there, Boy Furry?

You just missed me in the middle
of yet another righteous deed.

If I do say so myself,
Lightning Lard was in top form.

You are not Lightning Lard.
You are not even a superhero.

You're a hopeless, dense warthog
who hasn't done one superhero feat.

But the lightning...
fried your tiny brain.

Y-You mean that I'm
just plain old warthog?

Give that pig a brownie.
He's getting a clue.

Hey, listen, even if
you're not Lightning Lard,

I think you're, uh,
you know, okay.

I don't care.

Aah!

Help me, Pumbaa. I
don't know how to swim.

You don't need me to help
you. I'm not Lightning Lard.

Ooh. Aah! Pumbaa,
you got to save me.

I'm being attacked
by a carnivorous plant.

Oh, forget it. I'm nothing
but a useless hog.

Pumbaa, the storm is
coming back this way,

and the baby bear's
heading right into it.

Don't look at me.
I can't help you.

How did I get myself
into this mess?

Whoa!

Oh.

Ow. Help! Pumbaa, I need you!

Help!

Why would anyone
need plain old Pumbaa?

You're right. Maybe
Pumbaa can't help,

- but Lightning Lard could.
- Huh?

If only lightning
lard were nearby,

then he'd help his sidekick,
oy, Timon, the Boy Furry.

Whoa!

Someone called
for Lightning Lard?

You could say that.

You mean you really
think I am a superhero?

Yes. Aah.

- Really?
- Yes!

Really?

Who could ever doubt that
you, Pumbaa, are indeed

the one, the only
Lightning Lard?

Now save us!

Hang tight, old chum.

I am Lightning Lard,
the pig powerful.

Hear my oink.

Oh. How, my dear lightning
lard? How ever can I repay you?

You're a wonder.

Mom-mom.

Ma'am, I wasn't the only hero.

The Boy Furry here
also deserves a reward.

Yeah, yeah, I do.

Viva Las Vegas! A city
filled with easy money

and more grub than you
could find under a log.

What more could
you ask for, Pumbaa?

Uh, I don't know, Timon.

How about some giant
bugs like those there?

Huh? Giant bugs?

Bon appetit.

Look at all those yummy bugs.

Boy, are they ugly.

A face only a mother could love.

After you.

No dough, no go.

This town stinks of money.

All we got to do is lay
our hands on some.

Or hooves. We could
lay hooves on it, too.

Give me a minute. A
plan will come to me.

Yes, it's coming to me.

It's right on the
tip of my... aah!

- A lion! Aah!
- Ooh.

Get a grip on yourself, Pumbaa.

It's only a poster for Sigmund and
Lloyd's fabulous white lion show.

Wait a minute.

If folks want to
see an animal act,

why not get some
animals who can really act?

How about us? We sing. We dance.

We'll show those
mooks some real talent.

This is our ticket to
all-you-can-eat lobster.

Uh, Timon, don't
lions eat warthogs?

Not in Vegas. This whole
ferocious thing is rigged.

It's all make-believe.
Showbiz, baby.

They look bigger in person.

I think you mean
"fatter," Pumbaa.

Pathetic. You call
yourselves lions?

More like lab rats.
Big ones. Aah.

I hate him.

Don't say hate, schnitzel.

All right, Heimlich. I
dislike him intensely.

So, who do we have to schmooze
to get famous around here?

All I said was your
hair looks a little flat.

Well, yours is limp.

Try dipping your head
in another gallon of gel.

Well, I never want to see
you or your stupid hair again

for as long as I'm fabulous.

So much for Sigmund and Lloyd.
Bye-bye, lions. Let's go, Timon.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, Pumbaa.

Do you know who gets the fame
and glory of these animal shows?

Not the animals, the trainers.

Momento.

Ta-da!

I am Timon. Am I not fabulous?

I don't think what you're
thinking is such a good idea.

We have plenty of
experience with lions.

But I'm a... I'm... I’m... I'm
allergic to teeth and claws.

It's just a little stage fright.

You'll be fine once I lock
us in and you can't escape.

All right, places,
fellow animals.

It's showtime, and, uh, let's
see some of that jungle realism.

Pumbaa, I told
you, this is Vegas.

They're just acting tough for
the crowd. Remember, it's all fake.

Showbiz, baby.

They sure are good actors.

Ok, you kitties, we're on,
so do something lion-like.

I guess that was
pretty lion-like.

Aah.

Mommy.

Aw, look at him. He is adorable.

He reminds me of our
favorite little squeezy toy.

Remember, Heimlich,
when we were cubs?

Ooh, I love it. Can we keep him?

P-P-Please.

Shoo. Shoo. Shoo.

This calls for extreme measures.

All right, kitties. Now you're
going to find out who's boss.

Ooh, look, schnitzel, our
canned food is talking to us.

Ooh, I think he is saying...

"Let me out and eat me up."

Hey, fellas, what happened
to, "the show must go on?"

You can't eat me.
We're practically related.

Um, oh, uh, see, with
me being a meerkat,

we're almost brothers.

Cousins? Distant
uncles twice removed?

We'd rather have
you as an appetizer.

I can't let you have all the fun, Timon.
You were right. It's totally fake.

Showbiz, baby.

Oh, isn't that special?

Huh? Give me a break.

That wasn't funny. Do
you see me laughing?

Oh-h*, but we're going
to leave you in stitches.

And for my next trick...

Yep.

Please open,
please open, please...

Yah, it's showtime... again.

They love you, Timon.
You're the comic relief.

Pumbaa, I'm dying here.

Whoa, whoa.

And now I'd like to introduce
the cast of our show.

Heimlich and schnitzel.

And their wacky
assistant, Timon.

Pumbaa, we've got
to get out of here.

Why? You're a natural
at this fake showbiz stuff.

We have a big future here.

We're getting our names
on the casino marquee.

They're putting up
a statue in our honor.

And I just signed a contract to
star in my very own t.V. Special,

but I said I couldn't
do it without the lions.

Oh, and you, of
course. They love us.

But they're trying to eat me.

Can you believe
that pig on stage?

And that ridiculous chew
toy our lions are playing with,

he has no style.

He has no styling gel.

Yeah. I mean, how are people
supposed to see that from the back row?

You, with your big hair,
definitely belong up here.

I am still not talking to him.

I'm still not talking
to him, either.

Please.

Hey, Timon, how would you like to
have a walk-on role in my t.V. Special?

Actually, it's more of a run-on role,
because you'll be chased by the lions.

A television special?

We've always
wanted to do a special.

I'm sorry I called
your hair stupid.

It's fabulous.

I love your hair, too.

Together again, eh, Pumbaa?

Sorry, fellas.

Oh, well, that's showbiz.

You know, I think we should get
our do's fully rebuilt for our comeback.

Wait. We only accept Sigmund
and Lloyd back on one condition.

Oh. Hot.

Not the hair.
Anything but the hair.

I'm going to miss those
lions, Timon. How about you?

Oh, sure. I love it when large, hungry
carnivores try to bite my head off,

but don't worry, pal.

I've got an idea for
an even better job.

So as the, uh, flying kings,
what do we have to do exactly?

I think we just wave to
the people down there.

Hey, Timon,

I think I can see an all-you-can-eat
restaurant from up here.

Viva Las Vegas.