01x02 - The Second Show Ever/Max's Big Day

[bunniefuu]

[High pitched droning]

[Monkeys gibbering]

♪

Woo-ha!

Punch that doggy!

[High pitched droning continues]

[Droning stops]

We thank you.

At first, we embraced the

monolith as...

What did the sales guy call it?

The dawn of evolution.

Oh, right, yeah.

Then it just became annoying.

But without it, how are we to

evolve and someday wear

ill-fitting suits with no shoes

for humorous effect?

Why would anybody wanna wear

a suit?

Ever seen a chimp’s rear end?

It ain’t pretty.

Enough!

Please, no, show me no more!

I can’t take it!

Hey, I can see my face in it.

You know, chief, don’t need

help from any cosmic

bric-a-brac to evolve.

Just exercise your burgeoning

ability for logic and reason.

And always wear these!

Now you’re talking.

[Radio tuning]

[Music playing]

Monkeys on skates, what a

concept!

This truly is the dawn of

evolution!

And we have Sam and Max,

Freelance Police, to thank

for it.

Sam and who?

♪ Sam and Max

♪ Sam and Max

[Phone ringing]

♪ Sam and Max

♪

♪ Sam and Max

♪ Freelance police

♪ Sam and Max

♪ Freelance police

Sadly, Peter Policy watches

as the world of Joan and Jim

Lacks goes up in flames.

Poor Peter Insurance Policy

sighs a great big sigh and

says...

If only they had welcomed me

into their home, they’d still

have one.

The end.

That was very good, Ted.

And should any of you ever

need insurance in the future,

feel free to call.

That will do, Ted.

I like to thank all the

fascinating career professionals

that found time to visit us

today, class.

Ms. Tax Attorney,

Mr. Insurance Broker,

Mr. Trailer Hitch Chromer,

and the the most entertaining

of all, Mr. Yushi,

from Kenyu Chu Sushi!

[Screaming w*r cry]

Frankly, I don’t see

how Career Day could possibly be

more exciting.

It’s Sam and Max,

Freelance Police!

Hi, kids!

[Screaming]

We were just in the area when

we were alerted to the sound of

fine steel weaponry being drawn.

It’s like the song of the

Sirens to us.

[Groaning]

[Muttering in Japanese]

Banzai!

Aahhh!

[Muttering]

[Dubbed voice] This foe is a

crafty one, I tell you.

[Dubbed voice] He has fended

off our clumsy advances.

How I hate that.

[Dubbed voice] Clearly, the

element of surprise is needed

this day.

[Speaking Japanese]

BOTH: Surprise!

Oh, good heavens...

He’s not a real knife-wielding

lunatic, he’s just acting that

way for Career Day.

Very convincing garb!

No hard feelings?

Any feeling at all?

Our work is done here, Max.

Let’s roll!

So soon?

But my blood is up!

Say, that reminds me...

Feeling light-headed, kids?

Are you suffering the ill

effects of too many fast-paced,

hard-sale, in-your-face adverts

designed to compete for your

parents’ hard earned dollar?

Well, you’re not alone!

The folks in programming are

sympathetic to your plight, and

as such, have agreed to present

today’s episode in its entirety

without any commercials at all!

You heard right, g*ng!

One whole episode of Sam and Max

without commercial interruptions

of any--

How exciting for us, class.

Honest-to-goodness police

officers.

That’s "Freelance Police",

ma’am.

Self appointed dispensers of

candy coloured dollops of

justice who upon receiving the

call from the high commissioner,

take on extremely weird cases

that no one in their right mind

would.

I think if we tried, we could

get Sam and Max to say a few

words, don’t you, class?

[Children cheering]

Gee, ha!

I’m afraid we’re not prepared

for any impromptu presentating.

But we’ll throw something

together.

Hi, kids.

I’m Sam.

I’m Max.

BOTH: We’re the Freelance

Police!

SAM: And whoops, here comes

Resisilobus, Lord of Darkness!

Let’s hang a beating on him.

I’ll get the tools!

[Cheering]

Oh my!

Surely there’s more to your

occupation than just pummelling

vaporous anomalies insensible.

No, that’s pretty much it.

I really don’t see the

benefit of all these

shenanigans.

[Laughing]

[Phone ringing]

I got it!

I got it!

I got it!

I got it!

Yeah, yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh.

He’s resting comfortably.

Uh huh.

We’ll get right on it!

That was the commissioner,

Max.

Our seldom seen employer and

provider of wildly improbable

cases.

He says an all-hating alien

entity of unknown origin is

threatening to obliterate

mankind or something!

Let’s roll!

Boys, please!

Can’t you just tell the class

what it is you do?

We can do better than that.

Who’s up for seeing us slap

the criminal element around for

real?

[Cheering]

Well, here we are in the

yawning void of space.

Drawn without even a grade 2

understanding of astronomy.

You can exhale anytime, g*ng.

It’s actually darn near safe to

breathe now.

But remember, if the cabin

pressure should suddenly drop--

Or you hear Sam utter the

code phrase "Pull my finger".

--you should don your helmets

immediately.

I’m not sure if the school

board would approve of this

field trip.

SAM: Based on my limited

knowledge of school board

officials being dull colourless

mama’s boys, I’d have to agree.

You have nothing to fear, but

fear itself.

And that big cranky alien

cranium heading straight for

us.

[Kids screaming]

Looks like we’re working

through lunch.

I am Lactose the Intolerant,

custodian of the cosmos,

caretaker of the constellations,

sweeper of the corridors of

time!

Gee, Career Day just limps on

and on, doesn’t it?

I have travelled far to scour

the universe of impurities.

What?

That old chestnut?

Let’s go.

These free-floating

immense-headed space deities are

getting real tired.

If you seen one, you seen

’em all.

T-t-that’s not true, I am

unique.

I... I have a moustache.

It’s, uh, pretty sad.

But we’ll allow it.

Look, Lactose, we’d rather

you didn’t eradicate the whole

human race.

Some of our closest friends

claim to be human.

They’re really worthy of

their place in the grand scheme

of things, creators of all

things great and good.

Like wax lips, snap-on toupees.

And new for this year:

the Chia Noggin!

Interesting.

These things are foreign to me.

And these are just a few of

the marvels of modern man.

So, before you do anything

hasty, at least take a look at

what our culture has to offer.

And since a walking tour of our

planet could take hours--

Especially with those spindly

pasta-limp limbs of yours.

I suggest we employ the

lagomorphic mind meld.

I...

The transference is

happening!

LACTOSE : Enough!

Show me no more!

Get him off!

Get him off!

Oh, never before have I seen

such filth!

The horror!

Your human race is a stain on

the fabric of the universe!

It must be cleansed !

Gee, we’re not doing such a

good job of saving humanity.

Maybe he’d thumb wrestle you

for it.

Feeling sporting, Lactose

accepted Sam’s challenge and the

contest was on.

ALL: One...

two...

three...

Go!

ALL: We win!

[Kids cheering]

Inside voices, inside voices.

On three?

I could’ve sworn you said four!

I demand a rematch!

Sorry, we Earth men always

go on three.

It’s the rules.

Read it and weep, Lacky boy.

Then I shall destroy all

that you hold dear, with the

exception of this fine

automobile, in which, from this

day forward, I shall keep my

loose pocket items in.

MAX: Our car!

And the children!

And the children,

in our car!

KID: Why is he doing this,

Ms. Gibbons?

I’m just guessing, Jeffrey,

but often times in a large

family of giant heads, the

middle head can feel neglected

and lash out.

Well that just tears it!

Not only is he a cheat, but

he’s a bully too.

We Freelance Police really

draw the line at bad eggs

toying with our nation’s youth!

And our wheels!

Oh Lacky?

Ramming speed!

It isn’t fair!

Sam and Max deserve better!

It’s not fair!

You’re right, Jeffrey, but

sometimes life isn’t fair.

SAM: Pretty gruesome, eh,

Max?

MAX: You said it, Sam.

You’d think if they went

to all the trouble of creating

a lunch special in our honour--

For defeating Lactose and

saving the world and all.

Yeah, that they’d at least

serve it hot.

Fear not, g*ng!

These tasty treats can be

reheated to your liking.

Yay!

We love Sam and Max loaf!

You there!

Cafeteria mom!

Could you reheat these fine

meats?

Yeah, she can put the new guy

on it.

It may not look like much,

but in two weeks, they promote

me to fries...

Then they’ll pay!

Boy, he’s become a fairly

productive member of society

since the surgery.

All it took was a couple of

well-placed snips to curb

that aggressive streak.

Oh, Max.

You’re such a caution.

[Laughing]

That’s all for now, kids.

But stay tuned to the second

half of today’s show as we

continue our pledge to

bring you the very finest

in quality entertainment,



[Yelling]

Well, here we are, woefully

lacking chutes and falling at

one billion feet per second.

Is it my fault the restroom

and c*ck doors are virtually

identical?

I can’t imagine what’s it

gonna be like to hit the bricks

at this speed.

Oh, I scared myself.

I know, grab me by the ears.

You are aware there are

children watching.

Just do it!

Good thinking, Max.

I knew that latex skull of yours

would come in handy someday.

Smells like someone’s having

a barbecue.

Ah-ah-ah... achoo!

Uh... gesundheit?

[Splashing]

Looks like we’ve landed in

hot water, Sam.

It’s a feral pack of blood

lusting trick-or-treaters.

Are any of you kids

collecting for UNICEF?

Silence!

We are the New Guinea Pigs.

You have desecrated our most

sacred of rituals.

For that, you must die!

[Speaking tribal language]

Ooga chaka!

Ooga-ooga-ooga chaka!

Let’s not be hasty there,

chief.

Maybe Max and I can help.

Yeah, what’s all this

impassioned revelry and ritual

shenanigans for?

Each season, we offer the

celebration of life to the gods

in the hopes that the chosen

one, our one true king, will be

delivered unto us.

An all-knowing, all-seeing

wise one will improve our sorry

existence and get us free cable.

How will they know the chosen

one when they see him... or her?

Good question.

You see, some cultures select

their leaders based on lineage,

others by the disfiguring

rites of passage, and

some base it on an unusual

occurrence or phenomenon.

[Flatulence]

[Gasping]

[Flatulence]

Like that, for instance.

Never before have we

witnessed such wonders.

How is it that you can do this

thing?

You are truly the chosen one.

Heck, that’s nothing.

Listen to this.

[Beethoven’s "Symphony No. 5"

in armpit flatulence noises]

What more is there to say

except...

All hail King Max!

[Fanfare and cheering]

We have just crowned your little

friend our new king.

Our long search is over.

ALL: All hail King Max!

Truly the gods are smiling

upon us this day.

I guess even the gods know a

good joke when they see it.

ALL: All hail King Max!

Your royal highness, a weary

traveller requests audience with

the king.

Sam, where have you been?

Sit down, you’re just in time

for dinner.

Hey, bring on the grub!

[Clap clap]

Oops.

[Clap clap]

Not hungry, little pal?

Starving, why?

Then why aren’t you eating?

I’m the king, Sam.

I can’t be expected to chew my

own food like a common dog.

Attendants.

Roast Duck?

Yes, please.

ATTENDANT: Potatoes?

MAX: Just a few.

Are you trying to make me sick?!

These potatoes are scalloped!

[Shouting in tribal language]

A thousand pardons, my king.

A dispute involving mineral

rights, warring clans, and a

beautiful piglet left crying at

the altar brings these two

villagers before you this day in

the hope that you would bring an

end to their feud.

Of course, I’m the king.

As is our custom to these

matters, in order to ensure

only the purest of rulings, you

must first don...

the Pelt of Piety.

Wow, you know, nothing says

royalty like wearing the living

skin of an underling, ha ha!

Can I try?

Sorry, Sam.

Only the king can don the

Pelt of Piety.

They’re kinda fussy that way.

[Tribal drums beating]

Oh.

Message for you, sir.

Normally, I let the machine

pick it up, but I’m intrigued.

Who is it, Sam?

Unless my understanding of

native drum speak really pales,

it’s the commissioner, Max.

It’s the call to action.

He says there’s mishaps aplenty

in the heartland of America.

Let’s roll.

Gee, Sam.

Do we have to?

We’re the Freelance Police,

remember?

Somewhere, there’s steaming

dollops of justice to

portioned of.

We gotta leave now.

And if he doesn’t want to

leave?

Well, of course he wants to

leave.

Tell ’em, Max.

Go on, tell ’em about

the leaving and everything.

If it’s just the same to you,

Sam, I rather stay here with me

as king and you as my loyal

lackey and food taster.

Snap out of it, Max!

They’re giving you the evil eye!

Gotcha talkin’ crazy talk!

Oh no!

It can’t be!

You cut up his brain, you

backward butchers!

Aarrghh!

Shh, stop it, Sam, stop it!

I’m okay.

I’m okay.

But the glazed-over look in

your eye, the telltale cranial

scar.

That’s not a scar.

I just slept on my crown funny.

Oh, sorry.

False alarm.

My mistake.

Phew, what a relief.

For a minute there, I was

worried that you weren’t coming

with me.

I’m not, Sam.

I can’t leave.

These are my people.

My unique brand of wisdom and

armpit noises are all these poor

savages have got.

I’m their king, Sam.

I am.

So if you’ll excuse me, I’ve

got a spinning class.

Well, that’s everything.

We sure cleaned out the duty

free shop, didn’t we, little

pal?

What’s that?

Yeah, I’m sure glad there’s no

tax on corporate gifts either.

[Laughing]

Boy, it’s hot.

So long, little buddy.

Something is troubling

my king.

He has hardly looked at his

day’s gross of gift offerings

from his people.

Look, it’s cane toads.

Just rub two against your head

for a burst of colour.

No thanks.

It wouldn’t be the same without

Sam.

There is one gift that might

cheer you up.

Gift bearers!

[Speaking tribal language]

Knowing how close you and

that son-of-a-mangy-dog were,

your people commissioned the

village clothier to create this

for you, so that part of friend

Sam could be with you always.

Really?

What is it?

Is it a commemorative plate

of me and Sam in happier times?

A Sam cereal caddy?

Come on, tell me, tell me.

[Gasping]

Do you like it?

I hope it fits.

Sam...

Sam...

What have they done to you!?

Aahhh!

Hey, this feels nice.

How could I let this happen!?

Oh, Sam!

Speak to me!

I’m fine, knucklehead.

Much like the weasel utilizes

its collapsible skull to fit

through near impossible

spaces, I have called upon a

like ability to collapse all

my bones and bulky organs in

order to dupe these uncultured

puppies into thinking they’ve

rolled and pressed me into this

unsettling garment.

Neat, huh?

Is something not to your

liking, O Max?

Yeah, it’s just that,

well, you guys have showered me

with enough useless stuff

already.

I love the clogs, and I’ll

cherish the bread maker forever,

but, I can’t accept your gift.

[Gasping]

Pardon my insolence, but no

true chosen one would turn down

a gift from his people,

especially one as nice as the

hollowed out carcass of a close

personal friend.

It is a great insult: one

punishable by death!

I am too the chosen one.

I can prove it.

[Rapid armpit flatulence sounds]

It’s no use, little buddy,

looks like the party’s over.

I think we’d better cut to the

chase.

Cut to the chase?

So that’s what it means.

Uh oh, they’ve got us cornered.

Back!

Back, you savages!

Back!

I know how to use this!

I’m warning you.

Sam, before they husk us and

boil us like two ears of peaches

and cream corn, I’d just like to

say...

I’m sorry, I hope you can

forgive me.

You mean for acting like a

bonehead and forgetting who your

real friends are?

No, for this.

There he is!

Bash the king!

Bash the king!

You k*ll me, little buddy.

[Tribal shouting]

[Helicopter sounds]

You hear that, Sam?

Yay, it’s the Rubber Pants

Commandos!

And their endearingly cranky

CO, Sergeant Blip.

Come on, you fowl ups, I’ve

only got four hands.

I never grow tired of their

darling antics and remorseless

surprise attacks.

Aw, I could just eat ’em up.

Uh oh.

Feeding time!

Blip, go!

This little piggy went to

market!

And this little piggy stayed

home!

And this little piggy went

wee-wee-wee all the way home.

I never dreamed we could have

so much fun and still be

suitable for young viewers.

Yes, once again, we’ve

steered into the leathery face

of Death and his second cousin

Dismemberment and live to laugh

about it.

We fell headlong from a moving

plane, engaged a murderous horde

of vermin savages in an

action-packed sh**t-’em-up, and

learn a valuable life lesson

about friendship or something.

Hey, what about the

gratuitous blowing up of the

local filling station?

[expl*si*n]

Well, I’ll be!

Our work is done here, Max.

Let’s head for home!

♪