02x27 - The Penguin's Nest

[bunniefuu]

Atop this skyscraper, the gala opening
of a new super-swank restaurant...

run by an old
super-crooked friend.

Delighted, Mrs. Van Swank.

So charming of you to honor
my humble establishment.

This way, please.
Quack, quack, quack.

It's so sweet of you to ask
all of us here as your guests.

Ha, ha. Guests of the
house, I'm glad to say.

Warden Crichton felt
we should be here.

He was so pleased with Penguin
having opened this beautiful restaurant.

Hi, my friends.

- Are you enjoying yourselves?
- We certainly are, Penguin.

- Ah.
- Most inspiring, Penguin.

To think that you've mastered
this art of haute cuisine...

in the kitchens of the
Gotham City State Penitentiary.

It certainly proves that
almost nothing is impossible.

Well, thank you,
Mr. Wayne. Thank you kindly.

- I have one small question, though.
- Oh?

- The strange system for ordering food.
- Strange?

Yes. Instead of giving
the waiter our orders...

we're required to write them
out on individual slips of paper.

I was struck by the
oddness of that myself.

- Why?
- Oh, well, efficiency, Mr. Wayne. That's all.

- Oh.
- Efficiency.

- Ha, ha.
- Pretty fishy, if you ask me.

Chief O'Hara, what kind of way is
that to address our generous host?

All right, I apologize.

Accepted, my dear chief.

Oh, my sweet lady.

I do hope that you're
enjoying your dinner.

Oh, yes, everything is lovely.

Well, thank you.

In that case, I'll just... Thank you
very much. Quack, quack, quack.

Oh, merciful heavens to Betsy,
my diamond bracelet is gone.

Hold it, you crooked bird.

Chief O'Hara.

All right, open
your mitt, Penguin.

I saw you lift it.

Why, you dratted
fellow, unhand me.

Good gravy, what a
stupid, clumsy crime.

Speak up, Penguin.
What do you say?

- I say faugh.
- What?

Looks like I'm caught with
my feathers down, doesn't it?

Chief O'Hara, place Penguin under
arrest for grand larceny, first degree.

Yes, sir. A great pleasure, sir.
- Wait a minute.

Wait, Bruce? What for?

Sure and we caught the
thieving bird in the act, didn't we?

True, Chief O'Hara.

However, there's something
strange about all this.

So strange that wouldn't it be
perhaps wise to consult Batman?

Batman?

On a simple case
like this, Bruce?

Bruce is right. The simpler a case
looks, the more tricky it's apt to be.

Faugh, who needs Batman?

Take me to prison.

That does it.

When this pompous, waddling master
of foul play all but asks to be arrested...

Heh. Thanks for the advice.
I'll call Batman at once.

I think I saw a phone
booth in the lobby.

Excuse me, Aunt Harriet, I
have a call of my own to make.

Yeah, police switchboard?
This is Commissioner Gordon.

Please put this through
on the hotline Bat-phone.

- Alfred, where are you?
- I'm in the Batcave, sir.

I was dusting the
anticrime computer.

In seconds the Batphone will be flashing.
Switch it into this line, will you?

Very good, sir.

Ah, there it flashes now.

- Ah, hello?
- I'll summon him at once, sir.

We're in luck. Batman's at home.

Ah, wonderful.

- Hello.
- Yes, commissioner?

A strange and baffling crime at
The Penguin's Nest restaurant.

- Can you meet me here at once?
- It may take a little longer than that.

Well, don't worry,
Batman. I'll wait for you.

- He's on his way.
- Splendid.

And so are we. I've
just lost all my appetite.

Do you mind, Bruce?

Of course not, my
dear. Whatever you say.

- Good night.
- Good night.

- Good night.
- Good night.

- Good night, Mrs. Cooper.
- Good night.

Irritating. Most irritating.

Just when I'd learned to
fly straight, destroyed again.

What's your story, Penguin?

Well, I was the victim of an
irresistible criminal impulse.

So that's his defense,
temporary insanity.

Faugh! Me, plead
insanity? Quack.

I wouldn't dream of it.

Grand larceny, first degree.
Another trip up the river.

Well, you can't win
them all, Batman.

That's how the iceberg crumbles.

Stranger and stranger.

Tell me, commissioner, what kind of
business was this restaurant doing?

Fabulous. Virtually every millionaire
in Gotham City was here tonight.

I checked the books.

The average tab came
to 87 bucks per person.

Not counting drinks and the
hundred smackers' cover charge.

Holy straitjacket.

Imagine throwing away a business
worth hundreds of thousands...

for one diamond bracelet.

- Incredible.
- Indeed.

- Tell me, Penguin...
- Hmm?

Who are your associates
in this curious venture?

Yes, sir.

My associates, Batman.

Reading from right to
left, Cordy Blue, my chef.

Hey, I know that bird.

He used to be chief
hash-slinger at the state pen.

Matey Dee, my head waiter.

Astonishing.

That fellow did a term up the river
as Warden Crichton's personal valet.

And last but not least, Chickadee,
my hat chick and cigarette girl.

Not to mention notorious female
bootlegger of untaxed cigars.

- Ahem.
- An unsavory crew.

Well, they're all out on
perfectly legal parole.

Do you wanna see
their papers, Batman?

No, thank you, Penguin.

You may resume
your normal duties.

- Commissioner, Chief O'Hara, Robin.
- Yeah.

You make something
of this enigma, Batman?

It sticks out like
Penguin's nose.

For some sinister reason, that
pompous bird wants to be arrested.

- Good heavens.
- But why?

I can't imagine, but it's obviously his ploy,
stealing that bracelet under your very eyes.

And if Penguin
wants to be arrested...

Precisely, Robin.

The way to foil his plot
is to do just the opposite.

Are you certain you know
what you're doing, Batman?

We'll soon find
out, commissioner.

Watch.

I'm growing restless.

Where is that
dratted paddy wagon?

It's not coming, Penguin.

What?

We've had a conference, Penguin.

We have decided that your
impulsive theft of that bauble...

was merely a case
of post-prison nerves.

Do you mean that you're
not gonna pinch me?

Even the rottenest bird
deserves another chance.

Great quivering
jellyfish, what an outrage.

What did I tell you?

You can't let a felonious
felon like me fly free.

It's what we're doing, Penguin.

Oh, it's impossible.
It's monstrous. It's...

Okay, Penguin.

- Heh, heh.
- No, chief, no!

- What?
- He was merely baiting us. Don't swallow.

Have a heart, chief. Penguin
didn't mean any harm.

Didn't mean any harm?

Hitting a police commissioner
in the puss with a pie?

No, no, he was simply
overwrought with astonishment.

Anyone could make
the same mistake.

Right, commissioner?

Of course. Anything
you say, Batman.

Good night, Penguin.

I recommend a cup of warm cocoa
to calm your post-prison nerves.

Come on.

Aw! Faugh! Phooey! Fudgy!

I'd like to grab that
bird by the neck.

I'd like to pluck him.

I'd like to prod him all the way to
the pen with a pointed stick and...

Toss the rest of
this pie in after him.

Easy, gentlemen.
Control your emotions.

Batman's right. We mustn't make a move until
we've found out what Penguin's plot is.

Which we're going to
attempt to do right now.

What do you have
in mind, Batman?

His criminal headquarters
must be in the adjoining kitchen.

We'll descend to the
ground floor via elevator...

and make our way up the
outside wall with our Batropes.

Terrific. Let's go.

Well, that pestilential pair!

The one time in my life that
I wanted to get arrested...

and they pop in and block it.

Down, Pengy-poopsie.
Don't lose your cool.

Faugh, I'm the Penguin.

How can a Penguin lose his cool?

All right, you've got those
food orders, Matey Dee?

- Right here, sir.
- Quack, quack, quack.

Oh, how disgustingly
frustrating.

Here in my hands the raw
material for criminal millions...

and I can't get into
prison to process it.

How about driving around
and parking in front of fire plugs?

- Spitting on a couple of sidewalks?
- Faugh, that's fiddlesticks.

If a bird can't get arrested by potting
a police commissioner with a pie...

what chance with
those piddling ploys?

Pengy, look, the
handle of your umbrella...

it's flashing.

Heh, heh. So it is. So it is.

- What's it mean, boss?
- It's my brand-new bat detector.

And it means there
are bats in this belfry.

Our plot is back on the track.
Our plot is back on the track.

It's sure a shame, Batman.

A restaurant with
such terrific chow...

turning out to be a mere
front for some criminal scheme.

Look at it this way, Robin.

That hundred-dollar
cover charge is pretty stiff.

Penguin's terrific chow is hardly
within the budget of the average worker.

Gosh, yes, you're right, Batman.

All the needy people in the
world, the hungry children.

Good thinking, Robin.

Oh, it's you, Batman.

Gave me quite a start.

Yes, citizen, you may
return to your harpsichord.

We're on official business.

Oh.

They're coming
up to our level now.

Heading for the
window, no doubt.

Vicious little eavesdropper.

I'll give them something
to drop about. Heh, heh.

What's the plan, Batman?

Routine crime detection.

We'll listen in via Bat-microphone
and peer through this window.

You're a traitor, Mr. Blue.

You've betrayed us all.

Death to traitors.

Great Scott!

Holy f*ring squad!

Drat it. Caught
red-handed, ain't I?

Yes and no, Penguin.

Yes and no?

Yike!

Holy blank cartridge.

Precisely, Robin. A sham.

How the heck did you know?

I observed the recoil
of that umbrella g*n.

Obviously, its angular momentum was
inadequate for the mass of a real b*llet.

So, Penguin, another crude attempt
to buy a ticket to the lockup, eh?

Faugh, I don't know what
you're talking about, Batman.

Don't worry, you've succeeded.

You're arresting me?

As a duly deputized
agent of the law...

that's what I hereby do.

It's outrageous. I'll sue
you, you piteous upstarts.

You have absolutely
no right to do this to me.

How dare you?

How dare you confine a super-criminal of
my ilk in this petty city jail all night?

- It's all you rate, Penguin.
- What?

This tawdry, penny-ante pokey
on a charge of simulated m*rder?

Simulated m*rder?

Heh. I guess we
forgot to tell him.

You're in here for
violating the sanitary code.

- What?
- Article 69 B.

Forbidding the discharge of umbrella g*ns
in the kitchen of a licensed restaurant.

Call your lawyer.
Have him look it up.

Good day, Penguin.

Reflect on your petty
sins, you bush-league bird.

Incarcerated for a violation
of the sanitary code?

It's impossible.

Why, it's unconstitutional.

Here we are.

Layout of the state pen,
maximum-security wing.

That's Penguin's
permanently reserved cell.

Number P-1.

With a connecting
door to cell Q-7.

Now to find out what criminal
presently occupies Q-7.

"Cell Q-7.

Presently occupied by Barney
F. Baxter, alias Ballpoint Baxter."

Yes, Ballpoint. That
ugly master of forgery.

My hunch is right, Robin.

It all fits like my glove.

How so, Batman?

Remember that curious mode of
ordering in Penguin's restaurant?

Sure. Instead of telling the waiter
what you wanted, you had to write it out.

Precisely, Robin.

Thus furnishing Penguin with a perfect sample
of his patron's handwriting, signature and all.

I get it.

Penguin planned to take
those samples to the state pen...

and have Ballpoint
transfer them to checks.

Right, Robin.

One of the most brilliant forgery
schemes we've ever uncovered.

But, gosh, how would Ballpoint lay his mitts
on blank check forms in the state penitentiary?

Good question, Robin. Let's
call Warden Crichton and find out.

Warden Crichton,
Gotham State Penitentiary.

Sorry to wake you from your
routine afternoon nap, warden.

Batman here with a
small but vital question.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Among your current guests
is one Ballpoint Baxter.

Is there any way this creature could
get his hands on blank check forms?

No trouble at all. He'd merely have to
order them from the prison print shop.

You mean prisoners can order
blank check forms from the print shop?

Certainly, Batman.

The idea is to teach them how
to handle their personal finances...

in a responsible fashion...

once they leave these
grim walls and rejoin society.

I see. Another first.

Another of your advanced
penological techniques.

Right.

Why? You think
it's unwise, Batman?

I don't know.

I've always had boundless
admiration for your efforts, warden...

but sometimes I just don't know.

Goodbye.

Well, that settles it.

We know the Penguin's plot.

But how to foil it?

Simple. Give him enough rope,
send him up the river as he wishes.

Sure. Let him get in
touch with Ballpoint Baxter.

- And after he does...
- Wham! We pounce.

Let's race back to the city,
set our trusty trap for Penguin.

But even as the Dynamic Duo
speeds from the fabulous Batcave...

tricky Penguin is making plans of
his own with his tiny Penguin radio...

which was unluckily overlooked
when the bird was searched.

Quack. Over and out.

Mere minutes later, in
the city jail downstairs...

in the police
headquarters building...

- What do you want?
- Amalgamated Caterers.

We're delivering this special
tricky treat for prisoner Penguin.

It's his birthday, officer.

Don't tell me.

Hacksaw pie.

This tricky treat snack was
authorized by Chief O'Hara himself, sir.

Officer Hoffman, back door.

Would you have the chief step down
here a moment, please? Thank you.

Do you know what this is?

This is an electrical
metal detector.

And if there's a hacksaw blade in this pie,
this metal detector is going to detect it.

How fascinating.

Wow.

High-voltage battery pie sure worked
the way the Penguin said it would.

Quick, get his keys.
Chickadee, get his g*n.

The fools, imagining that a mere city
jail could hold a slippery bird like me.

- Curious. That door was open.
- Maybe Penguin has plans...

- for a jail transfer of his own.
- Let's find out, shall we?

- Just as I planned.
- You planned?

Forget it, Penguin.

The best-laid plans of
birds and men g*ng aft agley.

Plans of bats too, Batman.

You're deluded, murderous girl.

Will these crooks never learn?

At them, gentlemen! At them!

Get him! Yeah, get him! Yeah!

Die, you fool. You hear me?

Oh, you idiot, over there.

What are you doing, sleeping?

After him, you fink! After him!

Stand still, you
red-breasted roadrunner.

What the devil? Unh!

Dynamic Duo, look.

Good work, Chickadee.

The fiends, they'll use
the chief as a hostage.

Farewell, Batman and Boy Wonder.

Adieu for now.

- Forward, feckless flatfoot.
- Never.

Go with them, chief.
Don't resist. They're K*llers.

It's your only hope.

Upstairs, Commissioner
Gordon's office. Quickly, Robin.

Yes? Put him through.

It's Penguin.

Tell Batman the old abandoned
Navy recreation center.

The swimming pool.

It's his last chance to
see Chief O'Hara alive.

We're on our way, Penguin.

Just one question.

Do you promise a fair duel?

Robin and I against you
and your mangy mob?

Of course, Batman. Of course.

Fair play is Penguin's
middle name.

Well, now, you know
my amusing scheme?

- They come in, we sh**t.
- Chickadee?

I push that trunk containing
Chief O'Hara into the pool.

Let me out of this infernal
hamper, you devils!

What's the idea? Let me out!

And as the Dynamic Duo's
b*llet-riddled bodies hit the drink...

I'll turn on the high-voltage
switch, heh-heh-heh...

at 100,000 volts, electrifying
the entire swimming pool.

The Batmobile.

The bat's last flight.

All right, men,
to your stations.

Chickadee, to the waterslide.