01x08 - The Deep End

[bunniefuu]

It's alive!

Oh, yeah!

I'm wealthy and successful.
Fantastic!

Ready for this?

You're going down, devil.

Seacrest, out.

You gotta love
being a stay-at-home dad.

But some days are tougher
than others.

Don't worry, Dad.
Señor Clean is on the job.

Señor Clean, Señor Clean

Need a little help?

Thanks, Señor Clean!

Oh, no. I no finished yet.

Ha ha. What?

Go see a movie, kids.

- Yay!
- Yay!

My wife will be home soon.

Not with her brake lines cut,
she won't!

Señor Clean gets it done

Sometimes with my penis!

Seacrest, out!

Well, it is
scientifically possible...

to fly a crew of men
to the asteroid...

and destroy it,
saving our planet.

However, it will cost
, trillion dollars.

Sir, is that a made-up number?

Yes.

The fine citizens
of this country...

are reluctant to support
another tax increase.

Therefore,
Congress is asking America...

to vote on who goes into space.

Don't we have
highly trained astronauts?

Oh, that's something of a myth.

And how can people vote?

They can call
our special number.

You can vote
as many times as you like.

But each call costs you $ , .

Kids, get your parents' permission.

As your leader, I would be honored
if America selected me...

to lead a dangerous su1c1de
mission into outer space.

But this letter from my daddy
says I don't got to go.

Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah!

Zoom, zoom, zoom!

Zoom, zoom, zoom!

The results are in...

and the man Americans
have selected...

to lead the meteor mission
is Harrison Ford.

Ford has starred in more
top-grossing motion pictures...

than any other actor alive.

And now the fate of the world
is in his capable hands.

Listen, I'm years old.
I'm just an actor.

You people are all insane.

Go get him, Han Solo!

I'd like to meet
the team of engineers...

who will accompany me
on this mission.

Actually, the remaining
five spots on the flight...

will by filled by Aerosmith.

We need a cool theme song
for this mission.

I'm ready to ro-o-o-ock!

My God. Did you just get off
the centrifuge trainer?

No, I just shot smack
into both my eyeballs! Yow!

That's terrible!

Aw, Steven Tyler's
been clean for years.

I have to write an angry letter.

"Dear assfaces..."

Ladies and gentlemen,
I gathered you here today...

to volunteer my services
to go blow up that meteor.

I mean, come on. I blew up
the friggin' Death Star...

with my eyes closed.
Heh. No problem.

That was just a movie, dude.

Four, three, two, one, zero.

Liftoff. Liftoff.

Yeah!

All right, this is it, people.

We gotta make a perfect
three-point landing...

on the surface
of a chunk of rock...

traveling
, kilometers an hour...

and use our
positioning software...

to determine
the exact locations...

in which to detonate
our charges...

fracturing the meteor
into small enough pieces...

that will burn up harmlessly
in the earth's atmosphere.

Then we gotta turn
this puppy around...

and get home in one piece.

Can we do this?

Yeah!

Are you with me?

Yeah!

U.S. A! U.S. A!
U.S. A! U.S. A!

U.S. A! U. S...

Now, that sucks donkey dung.

Gotta lay low for a while.

Ah, this looks
like a good spot.

Once I get my body back
and reverse the gypsy curse...

or whatever the hell
my origin is...

I won't be hanging out
in any lettuce patches.

Huh? Who's there?
Come and get some!

What are you? Zombies?

We have no souls.

We feel no pain.

With your soul,
we can finally free ourselves...

from this wretched
lettuce patch.

Soul, gimme your soul.

So-o-o-oul

- Soul! Soul!
- Soul!

Gimme your soul.
Your soul!

With their new souls...

nothing could stop
the Lettuce Head Kids.

That's where I come in.
I'm Buffy.

I fight evil. It's what I do.

And that's how season eight
would've started.

Jesus, no wonder you quit.

Give me the boobies!

Seacrest, out.

And welcome to
the fourth annual...

Winter Pet Games
Downhill Skiing Competition.

Let's hear from
some of those pet owners.

Muffin was born to ski.

This is Flopsy's decision,
not mine.

I couldn't keep him
off the slope...

even if I wanted to.
And I don't.

Mr. Muggs didn't choose skiing.

Skiing chose Mr. Muggs.

Always nice to hear
from those pet-o-philes...

Hoo-hoo,
they really hate it...

when you call them that.
And they're off!

You've really gotta
question the wisdom...

of sending all the racers
down the hill at once.

You sure do...

if you're a communist, maybe!

Part of being colorblind...

is not being able to see
those red warning flags.

Oh, there goes Flopsy.

He won the Canadian nationals
earlier this year.

Oh, Canada!

Oh, the agony of defeat.

It's Mr. Muggs!

Mr. Muggs is leading the pack!

Mr. Muggs wins it!

What a great day
for animal sports.

- Ohh. Eww.
- Gross. Eww.

We now return to
Behind the Music Presents...

Electric Mayhem.

Times were good for Dr. Teeth
and his Electric Mayhem.

The band landed a steady gig
with the Muppet Theater...

and the pay was reliable.

But the good times
were not to last.

After a five-year run...

Electric Mayhem
got the pink slip...

that would change
their lives forever.

The Muppet Show was a good gig
while it lasted.

Got a lot of tail
with that kind of exposure.

I even got to sleep
with Josie of the Pussycats...

back when that meant something.

But Kermit just couldn't keep up
the rent on the theater...

and well, the mob shut us down.

With their steady paycheck
suddenly gone...

the band did what they could...

kids' parties, bar mitzvahs...

and even offering children
piano lessons.

Oh, holy [Bleep].
You make me wanna pee myself.

That was terrible.

The band's woes weren't limited
to financial trouble.

Come on, Tommy Lee's rich,
good-looking.

Couldn't have been that bad.

Like, he gave me hepatitis C.

I only have five years to live.

Are you gonna show me
those boobs?

[Bleep] you, Howard. I'm dying!

The band pinned
their comeback hopes...

on their
Star Search special.

But no one could foresee
the consequences...

for the band's
most beloved member.

Oh, ho ho. Did you see that?

The drummer looks like
an epileptic rag doll.

Ho ho ho!

Aah!

Get off me! Ha ha ho!

Help! Where's Johnny?

After a long history
of behavior problems...

the on-air attack of Ed McMahon
was the last straw.

The courts ruled that the band's
drummer Animal be put down.

Oh, no! Oh, no!

A reunion? Now?

No, not happening, brother.

Check it, my man.
Animal's dead.

And Zoot?
I haven't seen Zoot in years.

Not since he was
picked up in Tokyo...

with pounds of hash
in his bag.

Today, Electric Mayhem
is no more.

For these aged rockers,
there are no regrets.

Hey, that's life, man.

It took me this long to realize
that fame isn't what's important.

It's good friends and good health.