01x08 - Hard Day's Pete

[bunniefuu]

( crackles )

BIG PETE:
This is my brother Pete,

and this is his radio station.

? W-A-R-T, WART Radio,
Wellsville. ?

Good morning, gutbuckets.

Time to wipe the crud
from your eye sockets

and bite the wind
of another Wednesday.

Looking at our traffic report,

the shortcut behind
the Bliltards' house

is moving quite nicely.

Sure, it's only a Krebstar 2000
walkie-talkie

with the transmit button
taped down,

but with the right kind
of antenna,

no one within
a five-mile radius is safe.

? From around the world
to your backyard ?

? Hear it first on WART News. ?

Today's top story:

Mr. Fred Hurley has hemorrhoids.

( laughs ) Ew.

( growls )

Back to you, my little Viking.

Thanks, Artie.

In other news,

the International Adult
Conspiracy has struck again.

WART had everything you'd want
from a radio station--

everything but music.

Music just wasn't important
to Pete.

( phone rings )

Every so often,

somebody would call in
with a request.

WART.

Hey, dude, can you play
"Marmalade Cream"?

It's my favorite song.

And he would always say
the same thing.

Get a life, jerkweed.

He had a favorite smell
and a favorite star,

and a favorite internal organ.

But what he didn't have
was a favorite song.

He just never cared enough to
find one he could call his own.

But as he was about
to find out,

sometimes you don't find
a favorite song.

Sometimes it finds you.

Subtitle Rip: uNCeNSoReD

? Hey, smilin' strange ?

? You're lookin'
happily deranged ?

? Can you settle to sh**t me ?

? Or have you picked
your target yet? ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Don't you talk back ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?
? Hey, Sandy ?

? Don't you talk back ?
? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Don't you talk back ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy, hey. ?

( chord oscillating )

You know the feeling you get

after you hear
your favorite song

for the first time?

All you want to do is play it
again and again,

so it stays stuck
in your head forever.

Well, what if
you could only hear it once,

and that was it?

What would you do?

Our story begins
on the subject of scabs.

Hello and welcome to Scab Talk.

I'm here
with a very special guest,

meterman Mel Rattner.

Mel, what brings you to

Scab Talk?

I'm here to read
your electricity meter.

Is it down here?

Upstairs.

But before you leave,
are there any interesting scabs

you'd like to share with us?

Oh, yeah.

I got one shaped
like a dump truck.

Want to see?

Sure.

( phone rings )

Looks like we've got us a call.

Hello, Scab Talk.

WOMAN:
Hello, Pete?

Wow, I can't believe
I got through.

My name is Miss Fingerwood.

I'm your math teacher.

And I just called
to let you know that if you're

late for my class again,
the odds

of your passing will increase

to a 450-to-one ratio.

Hmm.

( hangs up phone )

That's about all the time
we've got.

Thanks for picking Scab Talk,
Mel.

No. Thank you.

If a ten-year-old boy has
to ride his bicycle

one point three miles to school

at a top speed
of 15.4 miles per hour,

how can he make it
in four and half minutes, hmm?

Shortcut.

If he had had just an extra
two minutes to get to school,

none of what happened
would have happened.

But I guess fate has a way
of putting you

in the right place
at just the right time.

? Last night
we were hypothesizing ?

? You were an angel ?

? Sometimes it feels
like you're looking down ?

? From up above
where the angels are found ?

( vocalizing )

? And if you seen all I done ?

? When I'm alone I do things
that nobody knows ?

? Every I guess
and every little mess I make ?

? And I was around,
I was around ?

? And I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? And I was around ?

? Nobody knows,
nobody knows... ?

( humming along with song
still playing in background )

As he raced toward school,

a strange new feeling
raced through him.

And suddenly, it hit him.

? And I was around... ?

It wasn't supposed to happen.

He wasn't supposed to care.

But as the feeling blasted
through his heart,

he knew
nothing could ever be the same.

He had a favorite song,

a song he could call his own.

After he heard it,

the only thing he could think
about was hearing it again.

The only problem...

? Nobody knows,
nobody knows... ?

...was that nobody was home.

Anybody home?

And no one was around.

( sighs )

And even worse, no one had seen
what Pete had seen.

The only proof
that the song had ever existed

at all was one shiny,
little piece of plastic.

It wasn't much,

but it gave him enough hope
to keep searching.

Mom used the metal plate
in her head

to help scan the airwaves
for the song.

( high-pitched
frequency signals )

While Pete's
personal superhero,

Artie, the strongest man
in the world,

began spanning the globe,

trying to track down
the original sound waves

of the missing song.

( humming )

Meanwhile, Pete was on his own

as he tried to track down
the song in his brain.

If you know it,
dial 555-WART fast.

Because as each second passed,

each note of the song became
harder and harder to remember.

( phone rings )

Do you know it?

Yeah, yeah,
I know the name of it.

It's called,
"Get a Life, Brain Drain."

( laughs )

You worm.

There was only thing left
for Pete to do.

Wait until night
when the reception was best,

climb to the roof

and point his Krebstar 211
toward the sky.

Come on.

Please be out there, please.

He tried AM first,

then FM.

But his song was nowhere.

( scanning stations )

And everyone else's songs
were everywhere.

? Da-da-da-da, da-da... ?

( clicks tongue )

Come on, please.

( static, music playing )

Pete finally had
to face the truth.

The only place
the song existed

in the world was
in his own head.

And if he didn't
do something soon,

it would be lost forever.

He had one last hope.

When Mom and Dad heard

that Pete wanted
to experience the joy

of playing a musical instrument,
they were thrilled.

( loud chord reverberates )

Of course,
they were kind of hoping

he'd play the clarinet.

Instead, Pete chose
a Krebstar 3000 Eviscerator.

He had no idea how to play it.

But if he ever wanted
to hear his song again,

he'd have to figure it out
and fast.

Pete began his quest
by discovering one

of the most powerful forces
known to man--

feedback.

He showed me what it could do
with a little demonstration.

Outie.

( playing raucously )

( high-pitched feedback )

And... innie.

The next discovery--

the mighty E chord,
which when played properly,

will blow the lint out
of an innie like a cannon.

Then came the whammy bar,

which made a sound
that for some reason

affected Artie
like deadly Kryptonite.

Powers useless.

Growing weaker.

( grunting )

With the song fading fast,

Pete desperately slammed
together everything he knew,

and finally stumbled across
the biggest discovery of all...

( playing strong rock b*at )

...the sacred riff of his song.

No!

( gasps )

He did it.

Well, great.

Until he stops doing it,

we're gonna have
to conserve our electricity.

Our bills
are out of control.

Pete had done all he could
on his own.

Now, he needed a band.

Pete's band made
its North American debut

live over WART Radio.

On bass guitar,

her head may be filled
with numbers,

but her veins throb
with gasoline.

She's Elma Cooter Fingerwood.

( plays lively guitar riff )

Heart times soul
equals rock and roll.

On drums, a kid who's wanted
in 21 states

for the crime of rockin'.

He's Clem Muttonchop Linell.

? ?

My daddy was a rattlesnake,
and my mama wore a six-g*n.

On lead guitar,
he reads your meters,

now he's ready
to rock your world.

He's Lightning Mel Rattner.

Oh, sorry.

Man, my brain was flippin'
like a pancake.

( plays lively riff )

And on rhythm guitar,
I'm Pete "Thunderball" Wrigley.

And together,
we make up The Blowholes.

Count us down, Cooter.

Uh, one point one,

one point two,
one point three, let's rock!

( upbeat rock music plays )

? Nobody knows,
nobody knows... ?

Oh, gee.

With the help
of Cooter's calculations,

Thunderball figured
that if they kept playing

his three chords

at current rate
of 11 riffs per minute,

the rest of his song,
stuck somewhere in his brain,

would splurt out
by the weekend.

But whoever said
that math was an exact science?

Thunderball,

do you think we could
maybe play some other song?

I know the backbeat

to "One
is the Loneliest Number."

No. That's not why we're here,
remember?

We're here to find the song.

But there's
an almost infinite number

of other songs out there,
Thunderball.

Come on, Pete,

let's keep rocking
in a free world.

The Blowholes were on the verge
of blowing up.

To save the band

and save his dream,
Pete did

what his hero Abe Lincoln
would have done.

? I was told yesterday ?

? I don't care,
that's what I say ?

? If you wanna stick around ?

? Gotta listen
to the rock and roll sound ?

? I'm a driver,
pile driver sound ?

? I'm the king
of guitar-smashing down ?

? I'm a driver,
pile driver... ?

No!

That's it!

I've had enough.

I'm going
to put an end to this...

the Fred Hurley way.

Poor Dad.

He knew that if
he didn't stop the band,

the International Adult
Conspiracy would do it for him.

But if there's one thing
that our dad hates

more than being the bad guy,
it was bills-- big bills.

? W-A-R-T, WART Radio. ?

So, you don't like
the taste of coffee,

but you drink it anyway,
is that right?

Well... yeah.

Pete, it's time
we had a little talk--

you know, father to son.

That's okay.

Artie and I
already had that talk.

( gasps, then groans )

( thud )

No. No, I-I-I'm talking
about The Blowholes.

Is there anywhere else
you could jam?

Well, then I-
I'm sorry, son.

You can't play here anymore.

I-I just can't afford it.

My electricity bills have gone
right through the roof.

So, unless you figure out a way

to pay me the
$700 a month

on this bill, I'm afraid

you're going to have
to call it quits.

I-I'm sorry, son.

Don't worry, there's
lots of other
songs out there.

You'll find one.

That concludes our WART-cast
for this evening.

I guess I'll go back
to my stamp collection.

( sighs )

Well, I guess
I'll see you in class Monday.

We're doing fractions.

( phone ringing )

WART.

Hi. Can you play
"Marmalade Cream"?

Get a life, jerkweed.

If you can, I'll give you

five bucks.

Yeah, we can play it.

And thanks.

Wellsville,
are you ready to rock?

Then call WART,

and The Blowholes
will play your favorite song

if you make a pledge--
only five bucks a song.

And if we can't play it,
we'll pay you.

It was a risky move,
but the only way

for The Blowholes
to keep rocking

was to pay Dad's electric bill.

And the way Pete figured it,
since they were broke,

why not get the whole town
to pay the bill for them?

Smells like math spirit.

Five, six, seven, hit it!

? Marmalade cream ?

? So sweet in between ?

? Marmalade cream ?

? It's a tangerine dream... ?

Before long,
requests began rolling in

on the WART line
from all over town.

MAN:
I'll give you, like, 30 bucks

if you play
"You Fill Me Up, Buttercup."

GIRL:
Hi. Could you play "Wango Tango"

by Mr. Ted Nugent?

MAN 2:
Freebird! Freebird!

Freebird!

And now,
a long-distance dedication

from the kids on Cranson Street
going out to

the man who saves our lives
every summer-- Mr. Tastee.

We miss you, Tastee,
wherever you are.

? I'm looking down
the street where we lived ?

? And it's lonely ?

? Summers we spent
always seeing you smile ?

? Makes me wonder
where the time went ?

? I feel alone
now that you're gone ?

? Gone with the summer wind... ?

The Blowholes were on a roll.

The way things were going,
they could have played forever.

Unfortunately, one hemorrhoid
sufferer had heard enough.

All right, you mutant, it's time
to raise the stakes a little.

You play my song,
I give you 100 bucks.

You can't play it,
you pull the plug.

What's your
poison, buttweed?

"Surfin' Bum, Surfin' Fun."

The band was baffled
until Artie saved the day.

Pipeline!

( mellow rock b*at playing )

( laughing )

That's my boy. Whoo!

Fred Hurley,
you just had your clock cleaned.

Honey, stop jumping around.

You're blocking the signal.

( surf music drum solo
with guitar punctuation )

They're going to do it, Joyce.

I never thought
they could pull it off.

Gee, I should have told him
the bill was $1,000.

Oh...!

Come on, Wellsville.

We're only 100 bucks away.

Who's going
to be the lucky caller

to put us over the top?

( echoing ):
I am.

? I look in your eyes ?

? I see a light shining
bright from the sky ?

? The stars can't compare
with the glow of your hair ?

? And the beauty I feel
when you're holding me tight ?

? I dream of the day,
not far away ?

? When we won't have to run ?

? You're dancing so slow ?

? And I already know
you're my only one ?

Remember when we first heard
our song, Joyce?

? You painted my world ?

? You painted my life
with love ?

? The ground and the trees
is all the canvas you need ?

? You painted my love... ?

It should have been

one of the greatest moments
in Pete's 10-year-old life.

Instead, it ended up
being one of his worst.

Seeing how happy the song

made Mom and Dad
suddenly made Pete realize

how much he missed his song.

He knew the band
wouldn't understand,

but he had to leave.

He was through playing
other people's songs.

It was time

to play his song.

And if he was going to find it,
he knew where he had to go.

But when he got there,

all that was left
was one single, solitary note.

That was all he could remember.

( plays extended note )

One lousy note.

Don't stop rockin',
Thunderball.

How'd you guys find me?

We just followed the note.

Well, you wasted your time.

My song is dead.

Rock and roll never dies,
Thunderball.

Bite me, Clem.

Maybe
you've been trying

too hard to find it.

Why don't you let the song
find you again?

He had no idea
what Mel was talking about.

But as he walked
over to the exact spot

where he had first
felt the feeling...

( plays note )

...something strange
came over him.

( playing tentatively )

The song had come home.

? If you seen all I done ?

? When I'm alone,
I do things nobody knows ?

? Every time I guess,
and every little mess I made ?

? I was around,
I was around, I was around ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows,
nobody knows... ?

As the music
echoed through the night,

Pete didn't care
if the whole world

knew his song was around.

Even the entire universe
could listen in.

The song was his,

no matter who else heard it.

And now that it
had found him again,

he was going to make sure
he never, ever let it go.

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows,
nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows,
nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows,
nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows,
nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows,
nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows,
nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows,
nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows,
nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows,
nobody knows, nobody knows ?

? I was around ?

? Nobody knows, nobody knows,
nobody knows... ?