02x05 - Monkey Business/Big Caesar

[bunniefuu]

MAN: Here we go.
HELGA: Arnold.

(YOWLING)
(BARKING)

Hey, Arnold!

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)

(CRASHING)

(SCREAMS)

Hey, Arnold!

Arnold.

Arnold.

(SIREN WAILING)
Arnold.

Arnold.

Move it, football head!

ALL: Hey, Arnold!

Yes, class, science has come
a long way since centuries ago

when primitive medicine
involved bloodletting

and the placement
of leeches...
(STUDENTS GASP)

...on the patients' bodies
in order to cure the ills
of the human race.

(STUDENTS EXCLAIMING
IN DISGUST)

Some theoretical diseases
since debunked
by modern scientists,

are lupus oreololas,
in which the victim's ears
grew uncontrollably

until they resembled those
of a flap-eared rabbit,

but probably
the most ridiculous
was monkeynucleosis

in which the victim...
(STUDENTS MURMURING)

...after coming in contact
with an infected monkey

developed
monkey-like characteristics.

What a bunch of twaddle!

Early physicians believed
a mere scratch
or touch from a monkey

would cause the victim
to contract
the dreaded disease,

leading to sweating, fever,
and eventually, expiration.

Monkeynucleosis!
What a crock!

Well, Helga, early scientists
often struggled with bold,
unsubstantiated theories,

all seeking to explain
man's purpose

during his mysterious
and all-too-short sojourn
on the planet.

You know something, Phoebe?

You really ought
to get out more.

Still, it does make you think.

What would you do if you
thought you only had
a few days to live?

Well, personally,
I'd probably stuff my face
full of ice cream,

skip school,
and just go around
goofing on people.

Hmm. That's deep, Helga.

Well, see you tomorrow.

(BOTH GROAN)

Arnold!

Oh! Sorry, Helga.

I mean, watch where
you're going, football head.

What a klutz! Sheesh!

Oh! Arnold, my love!

Though I shun you in public,
berating and insulting you,

'tis only to hide
my true feelings of love
and adoration.

(SIGHS)

Oh, when will I
find the strength

to express my strange,
but nearly uncontrollable
affections for you?

Hopefully not today
or tomorrow

because it would be
embarrassing and humiliating.

But perhaps someday
in the distant future.

Yes, someday.

(WHEEZING)

(CHATTERING EXCITEDLY)

What's going on?

It's a wonderful organ grinder
and his beautiful
dancing monkey.

Oh, yeah?
Step aside, sister!

(JAUNTY MUSIC PLAYING)

Doesn't he do anything else?

(COINS CLATTERING)

(CLINKING)

(CHITTERING EXCITEDLY)

(ALL LAUGHING)
Ew! Yuck!

He slobbered all over me.

(IN ITALIAN ACCENT)
I'm so sorry, little girl.

My monkey,
he's very emotional.

Yeah? Well, you ought to keep
that thing on a leash.

(MONKEY CHITTERING ANXIOUSLY)

(LAUGHS) Oh, that Jughead!

Can't he see that Veronica
has absolutely no interest
in him whatsoever? (LAUGHS)

Man, my arm itches.

Stupid monkey! Gee,
it looks kinda red and puffy.

MR. SIMMONS:
...mere scratch or touch
from a monkey

would cause the victim
to contract
the dreaded disease.

(SCOFFS) Monkeynucleosis!
Yeah, right!

Like I'm really going to turn
into a monkey. (LAUGHS)

(MONKEY CHATTER)

(SCREAMS)

Gee, maybe I better
check this thing out.

Fabled Diseases of Old
Long Since Debunked
by Modern Science.

Eureka!

Monkeynucleosis.
Monkeynucleosis.

Aha!

"Scientifically implausible
symptoms of this
affliction include...

"One, itching and puffiness."

I've got that!

"Two, sweaty palms."

Whew!

"Three, loss of appetite,
four, irritability.
And finally...

"Expiration"!

Well, at least I've only got
one of the symptoms.

(GASPS) Sweaty palms!

The second symptom!

MAN 1: Extra!

City Zoo gets
new monkey cages.

WOMAN: Eddie, watch where
you're going, you big ape!

MAN 2: I told you,
not a socket wrench,
a monkey wrench!

A monkey wrench!

Helga, why aren't you eating?

I just don't have
any appetite.

No appetite?

Oh, I don't understand that.

She's a growing girl, Miriam.

"Loss of appetite."

(GASPS) The third symptom!

Don't read
at the dinner table, Helga.

What is this, anyway?

"Monkeynucleosis."

Oh, yeah.
I think I've heard of that.

It's some crazy old
made-up disease,
turns you into a monkey.

Do you think it's real, Dad?

I don't know.
(PHONE RINGS)

I'm a beeper salesman,
not a scientist.

Big Bob here.

(MAN YELLING INDISTINCTLY
ON PHONE)

What do you mean
the beepers don't work?

Hey, hey, hey, you signed
a non-refundable contract,

the ink's dried,
that ship has sailed.

PHOEBE:
It does make you think.

What would you do
if you thought you only
had a few days to live?

Respected colleagues,
please do not be shocked
by what you're about to see.

She is the result of a strange
and long since debunked,

but nevertheless
debilitating disease.

Half human...

Half monkey.

Look!

(GASPING)

MAN 1: She's an animal!

MAN 2: Stop!
MAN 1: Animal!

I'm not an animal. I'm a girl.

No! Wait.

(SCREECHING)

Where are you going?

You can't survive out there.

(SCREAMING)

(SCREAMS)

(ALL SCREAMING)

Arnold! Arnold, wait!

Sorry, I...
Do I know you?

It's me, Helga.

There's something
I have to tell you, Arnold.

I...

I love you. I really love you.

I never had the guts
to tell you.

But you're not Helga.

You're a... A monkey.

A monkey girl.

Arnold, I love you.

(CRYING)

Oh, there you are
my little monkey.

Where have you been, huh?

Huh? What are you
talking about?

Come, come. The people,
they're waiting, eh?

Don't worry, my little monkey.

Everything's
gonna be all right.

(JAUNTY MUSIC PLAYING)

Can't she do anything else?

(GASPS) Oh!

"Itching, sweaty palms,
loss of appetite, irr..."
(GASPING)

"Irritability."

Well, at least I
don't have that yet.
(PHONE RINGING)

Hello?

Hi, Helga.
It's me, Phoebe.

Do you know what
our math assignment was?

No, I don't know what
our math assignment was.

Okay, Helga.

You don't have to be
so irritable about it.
(GASPS)

"Irritability"!

The fourth symptom!

That'll lead me
to final stage.
(SHUDDERS)

"Expiration."

Phoebe, as my best friend
in the world,

there's something I need you
to do for me.

(FUNERAL MUSIC PLAYING)

What's the deal, Arnold?

Why did Phoebe ask us all
to come here today?

I don't know, Stinky.
I guess we'll find out
soon enough.

Dear sweet Phoebe,
I want you to have
all my books.

Use them well.

But, Helga,
I don't understand.

Why are you giving away
all your things?

Don't ask.

Just promise me you'll stay
as innocent and carefree
as you are now?

Are you moving?
Is that what
this is all about?

No. No, that isn't it.

But... (SIGHS)
There isn't much time.

Just take my books and go.

Ask Harold to come in next.

Oh! I almost forgot.

Could you return this book
to the library for me?

Maybe it'll help some other
poor kid in the future...

Even if it's... (SNIFFLES)
Too late for me.

Farewell, friend.

"Monkeynucleosis." Hmm.

Oh, Arnold, my love!

Now that
I'm practically expired,

nothing holds me
from expressing my deepest,
darkest secret.

A secret of which
I've so long harbored.

(PLAYS)
This sure is
a right keen paddleball.

And Helga
give it to me special.

I guess
you're the last one, Arnold.

And she gave me
all these goofy,
totally outrageous dresses.

The whole thing's crazy.

And so, Arnold,
now that I'm about to go,

I guess I might
as well tell you.

Tell me what?

All these past years,
while I've berated you
and called you names

like football head
and hairboy and yutz
and paste-for-brains and...

Helga, what's your point?

My point is that I really
don't hate you, Arnold.

In fact, quite the contrary.

In the pit of my heart,
in the depths of my soul,
I truly love...

PHOEBE: Helga, wait!

I know what's going on
and you've got
everything all wrong.

Huh?

You don't have
monkeynucleosis.

Helga, contact with a monkey
isn't really dangerous.

The most
you could possibly get
is a minor skin irritation.

The rest is all in your mind.

You mean I'm not gonna expire?

No, of course not.

The whole idea
is simply ridiculous.

HELGA: That's great!

I'm not gonna expire.

Yes! Yes!

I'm glad
everything's okay, Helga,

but what were you gonna say
that was so important?

Uh, nothing. I was, uh...
I was... Delirious.

And what would I wanna say
to a football head
like you anyway?

Arnold, uh, wait a sec.

Yeah?

Um, I just, uh,
I wanted to tell you that I...

I think you're okay.

Uh, I mean, you're an okay guy
and I just think you're okay.

Thanks, Helga.

You're okay, too.

He thinks I'm okay.

And he touched me.

And I'm not a monkey!

So, what do you wanna do?

I don't know.
What do you wanna do?

We could go down to the river
and throw rocks.

Phoebe, hold my worms
for a sec.

Well, well, well,
if it isn't football head
and tall hair boy.

Hey, Helga.
What's with all
the fishing gear?

What, are you blind?

There's a contest Saturday.

Read the sign, doy!

GERALD: Hmm.
"Fishing contest."

ARNOLD:
"Celebrating the cleanup
of City Lake."

Helga, do you really think
any fish could survive
in City Lake?

You bet. And I'm gonna catch
the biggest one.

What? You mean Big Caesar?

No. I don't mean Big Caesar.

He's only a myth,
an urban legend.

Ooh, I love urban legends.

The legend of Big Caesar is
as old as the rotting tires
at the bottom of City Lake.

And our own Gerald
is the keeper of the tale.

Take it, Gerald.

In the beginning when
dinosaurs ruled the Earth...

(GROWLING)
When the very ground
we stand upon

was a vast primordial sea,
there swam
one mightiest of fin.

Many people called him
by many names.

But the ancient Romans
called him Big Caesar.
HELGA: Oh, yeah?

Like Romans and dinosaurs
occupied the same time period.

But as the huge
tectonic plates
of the continent collided,

and new-founded mountains
reared up to the clouds,

the primordial sea
began to shrink.

And the watery habitat,
unto which was Big Caesar's
shrank as well.

He came to be trapped in
what is now our own City Lake

surrounded by the hideous
works of man,

where unto this very day,
he slumbers, biding his time,

waiting for another
continental shift

that will allow him
to swim free once again.

The end.
Poppycock!

I've heard some tall tales
out of you, Geraldo,

but this one takes the cake.

It could happen, Helga.

There could be
a prehistoric fish
in City Lake.

Yeah, right.
Yeah, that's right.

And we're gonna catch him.

(LAUGHS)
In your dreams, losers!

Come on, Phoebe,
we've got some
real fish to catch.

What you working
on there, short man?

Mousetrap? Nuclear submarine?

No, Grandpa,
it's a fishing pole.

We're going to City Lake
this Saturday
to catch Big Caesar.

(GASPS) Big Caesar?

You're going after Big Caesar?

You're gonna need something
more sturdy than that.

Come on, boys.
(CRASHING)

It's time I showed you
the fishing room.

Fishing room?
You have a fishing room?

There. That's more like it.

Grandpa, how come you never
told me about
this room before?

Well, you weren't ready,
that's why.

There comes a time
in every youngster's life

when he's old enough
to take on Big Caesar.

And you boys...

Aw, you're not ready yet,
but I'm tired of waiting.

Saw him myself once.

I was out in the murkiest
corner of City Lake
on a foggy dawn in October.

I'd been trawling for carp
and bigmouth bass
since midnight, with no luck.

Thought about turning in,
and then decided
to put on the big lure.

The McGregor Twin Spoon.

No sooner had I cast it out...
(GASPS)

I got a bite that felt like
it'd pull my arms
out of my sockets.

All 900 feet of my 12-pound
test unspooled so fast
the reel about caught on fire.

I pulled up fast and hung on.

Something dragged me
back and forth
across the lake.

Finally, he breached
and I got a look at him.

Two fathoms long,
the mightiest of fish.

Scales like armor,
gleaming black spikes
along his back,

eyes like fiery embers.
With a single twist,

he snapped the line and spat
the McGregor Twin Spoon
back in the boat.

I tried to gaff him,
but it snapped right off
under his left fin.

And was never seen again.
Least as far as I know.

BOTH: Wow!

I'll put 20-pound test
on your reel this time,

see if that works
better with him.

Time's a-wasting, boys,
and I gotta teach you
to cast.

Sold out?
Should've gotten here
earlier, Arnold.

Hey, Gerald.

No way, Arnold.

There's no way we're fishing
in a swan boat.

I can't believe we're fishing
in a swan boat.

Don't worry.
It's still fun.

Maybe no one will see us.

Hey, Arnold! Nice boat.

Where are you going,
after Big Caesar?
Yep.

(LAUGHS) Well,
see you round, then.

Phoebe and I are going after
fish that actually exist.

Bait me, Phoebe.

ARNOLD: Come on.
Let's get out of here
before anyone else sees us.

Hey, Arnold!

No real fish would ever come
near that stupid duck boat.

Well, uh...
You aren't exactly pulling
them in yourself, big boy.

Oh, we're getting the big one,
all right.

Stinky saw it in a vision.

I saw it in a dream.

There we were,
winning the prize.

He's psycho.

Hey, don't you mean "psychic"?

Shh. I need complete silence.

I have to concentrate.

Om!
Well, Arnold.
What are we waiting for?

ARNOLD: Yeah.
We got a bigger fish to fry.

Good luck catching Big Caesar.
(LAUGHING)

You'll see.

Well, here goes.

Hey, Arnold!
You think your grandpa
really ever saw Big Caesar?

I don't know, Gerald.

I mean he has been known
to stretch the truth.

And then he opened up
his mighty jaws
and swallowed me whole.

(SQUAWKS)

Making it up!

Making it up!

Will you stop that?
And I'm not making it up.

Well, maybe I am
making it up.

I'm 80 years old.
It was a long time ago.

I could've made up
the whole thing.

In fact,
it maybe wasn't me at all.

But then how come I have
all this fishing gear?

What about this actual
photographic evidence?

Sir, this is a photo
of Hedy Lamarr.

Exactly.

Let me see that.

No, I mean really, Arnold,
how do you know he exists?

Gerald, Big Caesar's
out here somewhere.

I know it, I believe it.

Well, there's three things
I believe for sure...

One, I'm getting hungry.

Two, our poles are sitting
there and doing nothing.

And three,
my butt's falling asleep.

Hey, I got something!

You've almost got it.

It's Caesar.

Man! He was awfully strong
for such a little guy.

You know, I hate to say this.

Maybe Helga was right.

Maybe there is no Big Caesar.

(GROANS)

What was that?
I don't know.

We're gonna need
a bigger swan.

(SNAPPING)

(GROANS)

BOTH: Ahhh!

Hold on, I've got an idea.

Tie this to the reel.

Now, if we pedal backwards
we'll reel him in.

We got him!

BOTH: We really got him.

Now we just
gotta get him home.

(WIND BLOWING)

Boy! I wish I had my camera.

Aw, there'll be plenty of time
for pictures, Arnold.

How's Big C doing?

Gerald.
What?

Look at him.
What? I see him.

Big Caesar.

No, Gerald, really,
look at him.

Oh, no!

You're not thinking
about letting him go.

Arnold, are you crazy?
This is history!

We caught Big Caesar.

Look at him.
He's one of our urban legends.

Don't you wanna be
rich and famous?

Aw, man!

Let's just do it quick
before I change my mind.

Wait.

(CHEERING)

Thank you, Your Honor.

It's the one I saw
in the dreams.

Yeah. Stinky's psycho!

Stinky's a moron.
It was dumb luck.

Hey, look!

Well, well, well, if it isn't
the Skipper and Gilligan.

So, where's Big Caesar?

Any luck out there, short man?

Yeah, we hooked him, Grandpa.

And then we let him go.

Oh, I fixed your gaff. Here.

Nice going, short man.

See? And you thought
I was making it all up.

I told you I'm still
sharp as a tack.

(SQUAWKS) Making it up!
Making it up!

And that bird isn't real.

(SQUAWKS)

GRANDPA: Who are you again?

GRANDMA: I'm Captain Ahab,
scourge of the seven seas.

GRANDPA: Why didn't I
marry Hedy Lamarr
when I had the chance?

(GRANDMA SQUAWKS)

GRANDPA: Can you make that
bird shut up? Oh, it's gonna
be a long night.

GRANDMA: Why do you insist
on picking on birds,
for heaven's sake...

Oh, that's well said.

GRANDPA: If I wanna see
a ventriloquist, I'd tell you

to go down to the nightclub.
GRANDMA: I'll tell you why you
didn't marry Hedy Lamarr...

She wasn't available.

GRANDPA: Don't bring her
into this. How dare you?

GRANDMA: Oh, yes, I am.

GRANDPA: You got me
all discombobulated here.

I'm trying to tell you...

(VOICE FADES OUT)