03x06 - Operation: Big Blue Marble

[bunniefuu]

Operation
BIG BLUE MARBLE

Okay, "double norwegian
slapem and grabem" poker is the game.

Kings high.
Uh, and sevens wild.

Extremely wild.

Double norwegi slapem
and grabem, Skipper?

I don't think I know the rules.

Not to worry, young Private.
You'll pick 'em up as we go.

- Okay, so do I...
- Blam! Private's out!

I am?
What did I do wrong?

Well, if you don't know Private,
I can't explain it to you.

- Rico!
- Um...

Blam! And Rico's out!

Ah, man.

Skipper, you're not making the
rules up as we go, are you?

Hmm, sour grapes.
Kowalski, you're up.

Kowalski?
Hello?

I see it now.
It's simple.

Really?
Then could you explain it to me?

'Cause I'm completely flummoxed.

It's so ridiculously simple
even Private could do it.

Science compels me.
I must do this thing!

"Even" Private?
"Even"?

- Should I be insulted?
- Nah, why start now?

Ooh, looks like I win big.
Who's up for another round?

Actually, I've got a...
thing I have to do.

Um, I gotta go.

I can do it.
I can do it, I can totally do it!

- Kowalski?
- What?!

I was just wondering if you'd
like a spot of tea?

Private, I am weaving
the fabric of life.

Creating wonders neither man
nor nature could conceive!

- So no tea then?
- No tea!

[gasps]
Rude.

Oh, you know how Kowalski
gets when he's

on one of his inventing jags.

Unfortunately, I do.

Yeah, won't be long before
he busts out of that lab

with some screwball device
with an unpronounceable name.

- That blows up.
- That's a given.

I've done it!
[spits]

I have invented the
"churro-stifish-initizer"!

Unpronounceable, check.
Now let's see about the screwball.

I present the
churro-stifish-initizer.

Aka the glorious machine that
finally realizes "the dream."

- What dream?
- The dream, Skipper.

- The dream, Kowalski?
- Yes!

The!
Dream!

- And which specific dream would that be?
- I don't know.

Kowalski, I wanna make sure I understand
what you're saying, cause if I'm hearing

what you're saying and you're
saying what I think you're saying and...

what are you saying?

- The dream, Skipper!
- The dream...

I'm sorry, can someone please explain
what you two are going on about?

Private, I have combined
nature's two most perfect foods,

the fish and the churro, into
one magical mega-food: The furro!

It's like everything good in the
universe in a convenient stick form.

Would you two care to...

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,
give me that!

Oh, oh, wow.

Oh... so delicious.

If only I could make
this moment last forever.

Bite big, Private.

There's plenty more
where that came from.

Kowalski, on occasion, I may
have made a smart-aleck remark

or two about your
scientific pursuits.

Don't know if you ever noticed.

Um... I caught a few.

Well I take them all back.
You've done good!

[bones crack]
Real good!

Mmm... wait.
What's the catch?

Wh... when does this
churof... churitif... chomif...

this thing blow up?

Oh, yeah, hey.
What's the ETA on the big boom?

No boom.

I promise there's no catch.
No downside at all.

Splendid.

Except for
the toxic waste byproduct.

But I got that covered, really.

An elaborate network pumps
the toxic waste byproduct

into a convenient dispersal system.

- Which is what, exactly?
- Uh, that.

Makes a nice effect, I think.

[volcano burps]
Finally.

The zoo is properly celebrating
the me-osity of me

with an awesome laser
light bubble show.

Uh, I'm sure the lasers
and lights are coming.

Wait it out.
[volcano burps]

I didn't know it did that.

Whatever.

But isn't pumping out
toxic waste, um, well, bad?

[scoffs] I'm sure any ill
effects will be negligible.

Well, that's a good question, Private.
Why don't you think of it this way!

They are very tiny bubbles.

What would you gentlemen
like for breakfast?

Day-old halibut?

Dried fish biscuits?
[snickers]

An old shoe?

- Furro!
- Furros!

- We want furros!
- I don't see why not.

One week of doing nothing but...

[chomps] eating furros.
And I still can't get enough.

Nice vibrato, Rico.

Now, to show off
my flashy diving skills.

Backflip, tuck and twist.

Maurice, come quickly.

Your majesty!
Uh, are you all right?

I am not!
Look at all this snow.

Weird...

- Where'd that come from?
- Who is caring?

Snow means winter
and winter means Christmas!

And Christmas means,
say it with me, presents!

Yay, presents!

[laughs] Not for you, Mort.
Me only.

So where are my presents,
Maurice?

I hope they are good, but I also
hope you kept the receipts

in case I decide they are not souch.

It's not christmas.
It's July.

In fact, whew,
it's getting pretty warm.

Wha...?
Summer?

That means...
[spits] it's my birthday!

It's my birthday! So, ha!
You still owe me the presents.

Nice try, you greedy.

Uh, what's this?

You didn't, by chance,
offend the sky spirits, did you?

No, what?

The sky spirits love me.
But that's just factual.

Oh, put me on your feet.
I can be your galoshes!

Somebody must have
offended the sky spirits.

But which somebody?

Or somebodies. Or some fishy,
stinking penguin bodies.

Gosh, lord good mannersly,
the more smiles I give away,

the more I get back.

Wise are you,
Prince Shares-a-lot.

Live at five, breaking news.

When there's news, we break it.

Weather gone wild.

Reports are filtering in of
freak atmospheric disturbances

centered in the Central Park...

Shh, Private.
Let's enjoy these furros without

the lamestream media's
jibber-jabber.

Furro, before you, I didn't know

if my hardened heart
would ever love again.

Not like this.

- Ah...
- J'accuse!

- Sky spirits peevers!
- What?

Oh, you think you can play dumb, huh?
Well, buddy, we can play dumber.

[moans]
Oh, I am galoshes!

The king thinks whatever
it is you're all doing over here

has royally ticked off the sky spirits.

I highly doubt that,
given they don't actually exist.

[laughs]
Then why are they showing their

displeasure of you by making
the weather all whackadoo?

I'm sure you're exaggerating,
but just so later I can be

smug and condescending, I'll
pull up our surveillance system

And...
good golly miss Molly, what is that?

I'm freezing my mangos over here.

Oh, it's too hot, baby.
Too hot! [mumbles]

Behold the whackadooness
of which was speaking earlier.

This calls for immediate action.
Who needs a refresher?

Furro? Furro?
Furro?

Oh, yeah, we should probably
check out the weather thing too.

This roman candle will provide you

with the extra thrust you need
to reach the upper atmosphere.

Um, are you sure this is safe?

Safe... hmm.
Safe...

My hunch, this is
Dr. Blowhole's revenge

for his previously-foiled
series of revenges.

Mm-hmm, yep.

Private will find some dolphin-themed
weather-controlling satellite.

We'll take it out.

- Kaboom.
- Right, problem solved.

Private should break
cloud cover any moment.

[gasps]
Kowalski, are you seeing this?

Not getting a clear picture,
what is it?

I... I'm not sure,
but it's definitely not a satellite.

Oh, dear.

He'll be okay once his
parachute opens, right?

Pa... ra... chute...

Kowalski, tell me
you packed the boy a 'chute!

Well, silk is expensive!

Add that to the cost of the
fireworks and whew, way over budget.

- Oh, boy.
- Move, men!

Try not to fall
so fast, Private!

- I've got a visual.
- Rico, you ready?

Here he comes.

Did not account for
increased wind shear.

Have a furro, you'll feel better.

Mmm, I do feel better.

Localized climate chaos
wreaks midtown havoc.

For more, we go to gil force
in the eye of the storm.

I really could have done this
from the studio, Chuck.

Anyway, as any first grader can
see, it's wet out here.

Wait, no, Chuck, it...
it's sunny.

I meant to say sunny as a spring...

That sounded really close!
Now hailing, it's hailing!

Now it's coming down
cats and dogs.

Or whatever these things are.

Hello!

Can I come inside now?

Well, I've thoroughly
analyzed the data,

and I know who is to blame
for this local climate change.

Blowhole, right?
I was right about Blowhole, wasn't I?

No, Skipper, not Dr. Blowhole.

He is still in an aqua park
and thinks his name is Flippy.

[laughs]
Oh, yeah, that's right, Flippy.

Hans then!
Never trust a puffin.

Not Hans either.

- Red squirrel?
- Nope.

Then who is our weather villain?

Skipper, the villain is...
us!

- Get 'em! Wait, what?
- Us and our...

furros!

At the rate this freak
weather is expanding,

the entire state of new york
will be covered within the hour.

North America in 12 hours.

The entire world within a day!

And the milky way galaxy
in 6.7 million years!

What?
It's a big galaxy.

The first step
to solving this crisis

is to stop using
the churro-stifish-initizer.

Immediately and forever.
Ever.

Ever.

Ever.

That's not gonna happen.
Local climate change, ha!

I call local climate change the
greatest hoax ever perpetrated

on the penguin populace.

I mean, have you ever seen
a more beautiful summer day?

Okay, so maybe the weather is acting
a little... hinky. I'll grant that.

- Good, I...
- But!

How do we know this is
penguin-made, huh?

- Well, there's plenty of...
- I propose a 50-year study.

- 50 years, Skipper?
- Good point, Kowalski.

Better make it 100.
Meanwhile, I'll furro it up.

Skipper, that thing up in
the sky is 56% ionized fish oil,


and 3% tartaric esters of diglycerides.

Diglycerides?

I know!
My trademark ingredient.

There's no denying it.

Our churro-stifish-initizer
is to blame.

No.
No, no, no, no!

I love my furros.
And I'll gnaw the wing off any man

who tries to take 'em
from my cold, wet, flippers!

- Now, Skipper, listen to reason.
- Sorry, I can't hear reason.

Operation "toxic takedown".

We'll fly three snub-nosed fighters
to the bubble and then launch...

Question.
Three flyers?

Yes, our old rocket ship
might make the journey, but it

would be a tactical error to
place all our eggs in one basket.

No, I mean, three flyers?
Are we sure Skipper won't help?

Yeah, pretty sure.

That do anything?

Nuh-uh.
Still snowing.

What?
[sighs]

I've done the funky booty, the
booty scooty, the electric rump.

Those sky spirits
must be mighty steamed.

Well, my booty's pooped.

I shall have to make
some other sacrifice.

- Sacrifice?
- Yes, Mort, sacrifice.

[thunder booms]
Um, I am running away now!

Come back, Mort!
The sky spirits must be appeased.

To your fighters!

We've got to launch before
the weather changes again.

Fighters?
To fight what? A hoax?

The only way to fight that

is with good, old-fashioned
horse sense.

Something you three sorely lack.

You know what I say to that, Skipper?
I say, neigh! [snickers]

Seriously, though, science
is on our side, Skipper.

I only wish you were too.

Ooh, I... ow, that really
undercut the moment.

All fighters, launch! Ow.

- Here we go
- Ooh.

Well, good luck.
Fighting a fairy tale.

- Save me! Protectify me!
- Oof!

Ugh, sad eyes, I was in a rare
moment of introspection.

- Oh, how was that?
- Eh, not for me.

Aha, my little sacrificial
lamb is no longer on the lam.

- Now go appease!
- Whee!

Mort, you are so preposteriorous,
even the sky spirits don't want you.

Oh, hey, Skipper, uh,
shouldn't you be doing something

stupidly dangerous
with the other stinky penguins?

Yeah.
Maybe.

Kinda.
Uh...

All right, set up for your attack run.

Prepare to unleash
chemical-dispersing fury.

Um, Kowalski, just wondering,

are even more chemicals
really the answer here?

You know, Private, if this
were a problem involving,

say, fluffy kittens, I'd bow to
your knowledge and experience.

Have those kittens lost their mittens?
Those silly billies.

Stay with me, Private.

This is science, so what say we
all listen to the scientist, hmm?

Oh, okay then.

Right, now on my mark, attack!

And fire!

And now we just wait for science
to do what it does best:

solve problems...
with chemicals.

Mm-hmm, feeling
pretty smart right about n... ooh!

- Uh-oh.
- Kowalski, what's happening?

It would appear that we have
possibly, maybe, perhaps, uh,

supercharged the bubble?

Eject!

Kowalski, we don't have
parachutes... again!

I had a budget and somebody
just had to have seat warmers.

Sorry.

Brilliant.
Now we're doomed.

Not on my watch.

- Skipper!
- You came!

You finally believe my
conclusions on local climate change!

Hey, whoa,
slow do there, bellbottoms.

I still think this whole mess
is some kind of anti-furro hoax.

But if you men
are willing to risk your skins

on nothing more than
a few thousand pages of hard data,

well then, you're not
doing it without me.

- All right!
- Yay!

Um, Skipper?

How did you manage to get this
ship airborne by yourself?

Uh... ringtail!

I told you not to touch anything.

And I did not touch anything!
I touched everything.

Maurice, Mort,
keep touching all the thingies!

Mm-hmm, on it.

- I am a button-pusher.
- Not that button!

Um, what just happened?

We're in the bubble and...
yep, out of fuel.

- Thanks.
- You're welcome.

So what happens next?
We just drift here forever?

Oh, now? Well, we'll run
out of air eventually,

or be torn apart by
the bubble's violent energy.

- Or possibly...
- Forget I asked, okay?

Uh, I could sacrifice Mort
if that would help.

Men, I suggest we
go down as we lived:

eating delicious furros.

Furro, furro, furro.

I don't know, suborbital travel
gives me the munchies.

- They really were delicious.
- Mmm, true.

Yep.

Hmm, how bad can it be?
[chuckles]

It is snack-sized...
[gags]

putridity!
[gags]

You know what, I'll pass.

And to think, these
little delicious treats

have been the downfall of us all.

Skipper, are you acknowledging...

Well, of course I am, Kowalski.
I was in denial because

I simply did not want to give
up my furro-loving lifestyle.

What's the point fighting it?

I admit it.
Furr caused this mess.

We... no,
I, caused this mess.

Although the official
record will say Kowalski.

Right. If only we had some gas;
some kind of potent fuel

to reignite the engines.
If, if, if.

Ooh, seriously that furro...
[stomach grumbles]

is not agreeing with my
delicate inside parts.

Ow, see what I mean?

Oh, man, that's a gassy one,
your highness.

A gassy one?
Could it be?

Nitrogen, fish oils and,
yes, diglycerides!

The lemur's mammalian
furro belches

are a perfect rocket fuel!

Mammalian furro belches?
Really?

Fine, you're the science guy.

Here, feed them and capture their
out-gassings in this fuel tube.

We'll escape and maybe,
just maybe,

burn off the toxins in the process.

Eh, I did not care for
the furro's tastiness.

Did he not get that?

- Hey! Eat and burp, ringtail!
- I don't wa...

More!

Keep 'em coming.
We need more furro gas.

Ugh, it tastes like a foot...

that stepped in...
[gags]

earwax.

I like how degusting they are!

Bring it, ringtail.
[stomach gurgles]

Bring the big one!

Okay, hold on.
Let me work it up.

Go get your big brother.
[burps]

Go get your bigger brother.

That's all I got.

Maximum capacity!
Hang on!

Mama Earth, I owe you an apology.

I won't let anyone ever hurt you again.
Especially not me.

Excuse me.
Had a straggler.

Sorry, mama Earth,
not much I can do about him.