01x24 - You Can't Breathe in a Diner in Space; Race to the End Zone

[bunniefuu]

♪ MVA ♪
♪ MVA ♪

♪ Monsters vs. Aliens ♪

♪ It's us vs. them ♪

♪ Foe vs. friend ♪

♪ Brain vs. B.O.B. ♪

♪ It's a super-freaky job ♪

Oh, yeah, it's freaky.

♪ MVA ♪

♪ Monsters vs. Aliens ♪

♪ Monsters vs. Aliens ♪
[cackles]

♪ Monsters vs. Aliens ♪

♪ MVA ♪

- Hamburger day?
- Hamburger day.

[hands slap]

- Hamburger day!
- Hamburger day!

- Hamburger day!
- Hamburger day.

Mysterious light show on the ceiling!

Hamburger d... what?

[screams, groans]

Sorry, sorry.
Minor teleportation whoopsies.

Carry on with your
food-eating, everyone.

Dr. Cockroach, am I to
understand you are once more

tinkering with the primal
forces of teleportation?

Let's say... yes.

But this time I'm confident
I've finally cracked

- the problems with...
- You call that "problem crackin'"?

'Cause all I see is a giant
trashcan that just crushed

one of the finest hamburgers
in the Western hemisphere!

[woozily] Oh, I can't feel my head.

- Walk it off!
- I assure you, my next attempt will...

Doctor, this installation
can't handle a next attempt.

W-what are you saying?

As of right now,
all teleportation experiments

are banned on my base!
Dismissed!

[engine blasts]

This is a dark hamburger
day indeed, my friend.

[chomps]

I was so close.
It's just this blasted fuel source.

I'm missing some key ingredient.

Mystery ingredient, huh?
That's a puzzler.

- Is it hamburgers?
- No, B.O.B., it's not hamburgers.

Mm-kay.

[chomps]
What about hamburgers?

- Mmm.
- It's not hamburgers.

Hmm.

- Has anyone tried...
- Not hamburgers!

Oh.

This is a delicate
scientific instrument!

Fit, you hamburger!

[motor whirring]

Burger grease!
That's it, B.O.B., you genius!

Don't thank me.
Thank the hamburger.

- [chuckles] Yes. Very clever.
- Thank the hamburger!

Um, thank you...
hamburger?

Now to test this fat-fueled bad boy.

[evil laugh]

Whoa there, Dr. Naughtyboy.
Pretty sure

the General just said no more
teleportation experiments.

Actually, I believe he only
forbade teleportation on the base.

[gentle spy music]

[wacky spy music]

[music stops, body clangs]

[wacky spy music]

[body pops]

[grease sizzling]

[gulps]

[utensils clinking]

That's every burger in the house.

[gulps]

But we've got a full t*nk.

Now here's the plan.
I teleport into Monger's office,

smugly announce, "I told you so"
then zap, you bring me back here.

Got it!

First part, everything
up to "I teleport."

Couldn't be simpler.

Merely pump the lever three times...

Got it! I'm awesome at counting.

- B.O.B.! B.O.B.!
- One, two, six!

You're pumping the
power beyond maximum level!

[both scream]

[grunts]

Oh, dear.

[phone beeps] B.O.B.!
B.O.B., are you all right?

Uh, your teleport thing's
out of burger grease.

But it's cool.

I can see the Earth
right outside the window.

I'll just run over there and get more.

My ray worked!

[evil laugh]

Whoa.
I'm on the Moon!

Yes, yes, but we'll
get you home in no time.

If anyone was going to
get stuck on the Moon

with no teleportation fuel,

at least it's just good
old indestructible B.O.B.

[whistling Hail to the chief]

Hey, Mr. President!

Bobbity-boo.
What's happening?

Mr. President?

What? I always sneak
over here to use the John.

I need a commode that
feels like America.

- We're on the Moon!
- I'm on the Moon?

- Mm, yes, but...
- Like an astronaut?

[laughs giddily] Look at me!
I'm Moon President!

Check out the Moon gravity!

[laughter]

Whoo!

[grunts]

Gross!

Ya-hah!
Yee-ow!

- We should go Moon exploring!
- Totes. [laughs]

Let's roll, jelly!

[both giggling]
Stop!

What? What's the problem,
Cock-a-doodle-roach-a-Doctor?

May I remind you that outside
is the cold, airless vacuum of space?

Mm-hmm, you may.

Then may I also strongly suggest
staying inside

with your friend
Mr. Precious life-giving oxygen.

- Both: [groaning] Fine.
- Right, then.

You should have plenty of
air until I get you home.

Provided, of course,
you keep that door shut.

[deep growl-snore]

[eerie atmospheric drone]

[rattle-screams]
[both scream]

- What the snake snot is that?
- The zombie Moon ape.

Once, he was but a fictional
Hollywood movie monster.

But Sqweep got scared of the movie

and sucked out the
memory of watching it,

and then I guess science or something,

and, uh-oh, the movie monster's real!

Fight-fight,
rarr-rarr, then whoosh!

Sqweep booted his ugly
kisser to the Moon.

The end.

And you said that no one
would ever want to watch

my video scrapbook.

Yes, fine, just don't let
that thing open the doors!

[grunting savagely]

[fists banging]

[screams]

Two subjects stuck on the Moon.
No fuel.

One horrible creature
from Sqweep's subconscious.

How do... Sqweep!
Hold fast, gentlemen!

I'm going to fly you up a
fresh batch of burger grease

in Sqweep's spaceship.

Ah, the old "grease
express to the Moon

for teleportation fuel so
nobody's brains get eaten

by an undead movie gorilla," huh?
"Cuh-lassic."

B.O.B., it's up to you
to keep the President safe

until I get there.
Can I trust you with that?

Well, I've never told anyone

about the President's
nervous flatulence.

He, uh, must be talking
about some other President.

[breaks wind goofily]

[snorts, growls]

[groans, snarls]

Late night snack, Doctor?
[gasps]

Yes.

Then grill me up
a slab of cow-cake.

- Papa bear's gotta feed the beast!
- Right away.

[meekly] Papa bear.
[groans gently]

Leadership!

[growling]

Aw, can't get in?
Knock, knock.

- Who's there?
- Doesn't matter.

Both: Barricade!

Growl all you want, space monkey!

There's no way you're
getting through that door!

[growls, roars]

Well, darn it all to heck.

[roars]
[both scream]

Dr. C!
All the air is running away!

We're grabbing as much as we can,
but I don't think it's enough!

[growling]

[quietly] Running out of air.
Think.

[shimmery, cyclical space music]

The convenience store.

That's where you'll find your oxygen.

- Awesome! I love oxygen.
- Mm-hmm.

To get there, you'd have to go out
in the freezing airless void.

What's this about a
freezing airless void?

Uh, what I actually said was,

uh, "would you like some
condiments for your burger?"

Those two phrases
sound nothing alike!

[screams]

B.O.B., this is very important.

Do not take the President onto
the Moon surface unprotected.

Don't worry, Doctor.
I'm his protection.

[both laughing]

[grunting]

This is awesome!

Caveman mama like-a
bonky wazza!

[growling]

I agree with every word of that.

He needs oxygen now, B.O.B.
His brain has gone silly.

[indistinct gibberish]
On it!

[growling]
[screams]

Dr. Cockroach.
You owe me six rolls of paper towels,

one new uniform, and an explanation!

Sorry, I don't have time for...

[over phone]
It's in the convenience store!

It's in the convenience store!
Over. [phone blips]

What is goin' on here, egghead?

General, I've not been
completely honest with you.

And now I see how very wrong that was.

The truth is...

[screams]
Again!

My fellow "A-moon-i-cans."

[growls]
Everybody ride a choo-choo.

Choo-choo!
Ba-kawk! [screams]

You shall not eat my President!

I am burrito samurai!

[prolonged] Yah!

Mr. President, you are
not a burrito samurai!

That is just the lack of oxygen talking.
Or maybe the diaper.

Is that a talking diaper
or just a regular...

[roars]
Whoo!

Stop!
I got super-ticklish head goo.

[laughs]

No brains!

Nope, sorry, buddy.
Can I interest you in a burrito?

Hang on, sticky bun!
We've only got six hours

to skateboard this hoagie
to Zanzibar!

[growls]
Mr. President, run!

[laughing]

- [grunts] No brains.
- Whoop!

Oh, well.

[growls]
[burbling]

Aha!

Huh?
[screams]

Zanzibar!

[roars]

Hold tight, everyone!

Aah!

Dr. Cockroach.
You did it!

No, this is a victory
for both of us, B.O.B.

- You kept the President safe.
- Thumbs up for America.

[breaks wind]

And I can finally
make my "I told you so"

to Monger with a working
teleportation ray.

Which is still on the Moon!

Nooo!

[growls]