03x26 - Mikey's Pants/Here Comes Mr. Perfect

[bunniefuu]

[bell rings]

[children cheer]

Waah!

Ah!

[burp]

I'll never understand how
a sweet soul like Vince

can treat a ball

with so little regard for its feelings.

I'd just love to see an X-ray of his foot.

-It's stuck.
-No problem, Gus.

It'll be my pleasure to help you out.

I'll just lift up the bench.

[fabric rips]

I thought you were going to get
the ball, Mikey.

-I can't.
-Oh, brother.

This isn't some gobbledygook

about leaving the ball in
its new environment, is it?

No, it's...

[whispering]
I think I ripped my pants.

I'm sorry, I didn't hear.

Could you repeat that
a little louder, please?

He said he thinks he ripped his p--

Quietly, Gus, quietly.

If the proper steps aren't taken,
and quickly,

this could get very, very bad.

All right. Let's get the big guy
somewhere I can think.

How bad is it?

Bad, Mikey.
It's a full-seam classic split.

Right between the pockets.

I know there is something worse
than ripping your pants at school.

-I just don't know what it is.
-I'm doomed!

Oh, come on, now. It's easily remedied.

Barely, phone Mikey's mother

and have her bring a replacement pair.

But my folks are out of town.

And they won't be home till dinnertime.

-That's bad.
-You're telling me.

Could be the Joey Finestock
affair all over again.

Oh, dear fates, how have I offended thee?

Uh, who's Joey Finestock?

Just a kid, Gus . A kid who could've used

a little stronger thread
and a lot better luck.

Maybe it was a growth spurt.

Maybe he had too much for breakfast.

Maybe it was just it's time.

One day, Joey bent over
o pick up a flying disc...

-[fabric rips]
-And there went his khakis.

[Gus]
Heavens, what did he do?

He didn't do anything.
Didn't get a chance.

because Finster got to him first.

And there's nothing more humiliating

There's nothing more humiliating

than getting taken to Finster's office

and getting sewed up.

[children]
Tidy whities, tidy whities, tidy whities!

You mean--

That's right. Gus.

Finster saw Joey's undies.

What am I gonna do?
I just can't deal with that.

Neither could Joey.

He was so embarrassed,
that had to switch schools.

They say he goes
to th Street school now,

using the name Emil Brizanca.

But I don't want to change my name
and go to another school.

Of course you do, Mikey, old pal.

And that's why we're gonna help you.

How?

I don't know. But,
we'll think of something.

Well, you better think fast,
because here comes Finster.

She's got a sewing look in her eyes!

Don't worry, Mikey.
Whatever we do, we cannot--

We will not let Finster
find out about your pants.

Come on, guys, cover.

And the Ashleys are thinking of smuggling

illegal dolls from home.

And the diggers are planning to tunnel
in the principal Prickly office

Shh!

Someone's up to something.

I can feel it in my corns.

Thanks for sticking with me, friends.

Thank us when the job's done,

'cause I've got a feeling
this one's just beginning.

-We got you now!
-No way! We got you, now.

-Loser!
-Loser more.

Scram, varmints!

Annoyance, thy name is first grader.

Heads up! There's Finster.

Hide behind me!

Easy, big guy.
It's essential that we remain calm.

Do not cause a stir.

What about my pants?

Hey, I've got an idea.
If you can make hats out of newspaper,

why can't we make our buddy some shorts

you know, to cover the rip?

Like origami.

Vince, my friend, you're a genius.

Hmm, a piece of fabric.

These fibers have jagged split ends.

You mean--

Yes, Randall, someone
has ripped their pants,

and so it falls to me, Muriel Finster,

to find that person and mend those pants

before the very fabric of this playground

is torn asunder!

OK, let's move.

I've never felt so alive.

I hope principal Prickly
doesn't miss his newspaper.

Don't worry, I left him the funnies.
OK, buddy, let's see.

I think they're just
the right length for shorts.

I knew this would work, but I didn't know
they would look so sporty.

-Good call, V.
-Now let's go play kickball.

-That was unfortunate.
-What do you mean?

I don't think those pants
are wash-and-wear.

-What am I going to do?
-I'm thinking, I'm thinking.

Oh, I hope you can think on the run

'cause we got Finster at :.

[sniffs]
I'm telling you, Randall,

this is really big, really big.

There's got to be a clue
around here somewhere.

Ah! Get it off! Get it off!

Hmm... "Bottom falls out of market."

Land sakes! I'm reading shorts!

Someone's trying to jury-rig
some sort of a patch.

Someone hefty. Perhaps an adult?

[Sniffs]
No, a child.

[sighs]
That was close.

Now, what are we going to do
about my pants?

Yeah, the big guy
definitely needs something

with more support than origami shorts.

[Gus]
But what?

[woman]
Oh, boys and girls,

what beautiful papier-mâché sculptures.

I've never seen a better collection

of abstract expressionism

representing man's struggle
in an unkind world.

I was making my puppy, Burt.

Très bon. Now, let's get back
and clean up.

And, Billy, stop eating the paste.

Papier-mâché!

Tender.

-How do I look?
-Badly injured.

-What happened to him?
-He's got a crushed pelvis.

-He'll be better tomorrow.
-Can I sign the cast?

No.

I believe I matched
the color of the originals.

Am I dry yet?

As a bone.

Good old quick-dry and papier-mâché.

Paint away, Michelangelo.

Sort of reminds me

of my first volcano science project.

-Oops.

Reminds me even more

of my first volcano science project.

This is bad. Let's move.

-Learn anything?
-Three things.

One, they tried to make
a papier-mâché patch.

Two, there are five or six of them.

And three, I'm getting very warm.

Who'd have thunk it would
take us nine years

to get to the last pickle?

Kids today don't seem to know the joys

of a good gherkin.
Seems they're more taken

with their video games and sequel movies.

That just means
more pickles for us. 'Come on,

Let's go order another barrel.

Hot dog!

Anybody thinking what I'm thinking?

Classic barrel pants,

as worn at one time or another

by each
of our favorite cartoon characters.

One pair of barrel pants coming up.

These just might catch on.

-Cozy.
-Cool.

Tender.

Whoa!

We're now witness to the classic downside
of barrel pants.

[Spinelli]
Mikey, stop!

I can't!

Your shell fall apart, turtle man.

Me not turtle man.

Me a boy with big, huge problem.

Hey, I'll trade you
this comb for your toy car.

Ooh!

Mommy use on me.

Now me use on enemies.

-I'm not going in. You go in.
-I'm not going in.

-The barrel was Gretchen's idea.
-Thanks, Dickey.

Drive careful, problem boy.

-Mikey, you're alive!
-Way to think fast, big guy,

but you can't walk around
dressed like a car all day.

I know. There's not enough trunk space.

Well, what else can Mikey wear?

We got to find something
that doesn't tear.

And I know just the material.

Wow, what are those?

Space pants, I can utilise 'em from one
of my science projects.

They're made of the same titanium foil

the former soviet union used
to shell their spacecraft.

Wow, where did you get that stuff?

I traded for them over the Internet.

I've got them to fit,

but I had to take off my old ones, first.

Forget your old ones.

I've made you the ultimate pants.

They're indestructible.

They're futuristic.

Uh-oh, litter.

[ripping sound]

But it can't be.
This defies the laws of physics.

[Randall]
Miss Finster! Miss Finster!

Barrel pants.

Blumberg!

There go the culprits. Pursue, pursue!

[children yelling]

[T.J.]
Gretch, how can this be happening

to your super pants?

Mikey compromised the structural
integrity of the material.

They're literally coming
apart at the seams.

Should've gotten thread
from the soviet union.

[Miss Finster]
There they are!

[T.J.]
Quick! Into the Ashleys' clubhouse.

-What? No way am I going in there.
-You think I want to?

But it's Mikey's only hope

of avoiding the needle and the shame.

It's official. The newest addition

to the wall of acceptable boys is--

Like, what are you doing here?

Yeah, no troglodytes allowed.

Come on, Ashley's.
We need a place to lay low.

Sorry, but we simply won't allow it,
and I take back the sorry part.

I didn't want to have to do this, but...

Mikey, show them your rips.

[screaming]

Man, that was harsh, Teej.

Had to be done, Vince.

[Ashleys screaming]

Hmm, terrified Ashleys
fleeing their own clubhouse?

It can only mean one thing.

Randall, the bullhorn.

Mikey Blumberg!

Come out right now!

I know about your pants.

Friends, my capture
and demise are inevitable.

Please. go on without me.

You can look me up at my new school.

I'll be studying under
the name Dietrich Von Diego.

No. We've come too far, and made
too many pants to give up now, Mikey.

[Miss Finster]
Come out, Blumberg, or I'm coming in!

-Give us a minute!

Looks like you got
no choice now, Diedrich.

I'm sorry you have to go

through this embarrassment alone.

Wait a minute.

[gasps]
Are you sure you want to do that, Teej?

It's the only way.

Spinelli, let's go.

-What the--
-Just come on.

We're with you in spirit, guys.

[children]
Underwear? Under there.

Underwear? Under there.

Well?

He's not ready yet.

Oh, he isn't, is he?

Blumberg, you have
till the count of three!

... ...

?

There you are, Mikey.

I guess your so-called
friends abandoned you.

[T.J.] wait!

What's all this, then?

Miss Finster, our trousers are torn.

We need them repaired.

They ripped their own pants

so Mikey wouldn't have to go it alone.

[all]
Tidy whities! Tidy whities!

Um, very well, boys. Follow me.

Tidy whities!
[all laughing]

Enough!

That was the single most courageous act

this playground has ever seen.

We won't jeer. We will show respect.

[stuttering]
T-thanks, g-guys.

F-f-forget about it.

"Why I'm special" by Gus P. Griswold.

The one thing that makes me different

from any other kid in the world is..."

-Go on, Gus.
-That's all I could come up with.

Oh, now, Gus, every person
has something they're good at,

something that gives them their identity,

That makes them special, even you.

Uh, well, I have hair.

Sure, there's that,
but so do many children.

Oh, I know, You've been
to schools in years.

How many kids can claim
a record like that?

Gee, you're right, miss Grotke.

I, Gus P. Griswold, have a record,

a world record.

Do I get a plaque?

Miss Grotke, I'm Jared Smith.

Miss Lemon sent me here. I'm new.
These are my transfer papers.

I trust they're in order.

Oh, my. You've certainly
moved around a lot, Jared.

-... --
-, ma'am.

I've been to schools
since kindergarten.

schools? Oh, goodbye, plaque.

Welcome, Jared. Why don't you
just take a seat,

and we'll get on with our lessons?

It's time to entertain
our friends the numbers.

Now, let's see, where were we on Friday?

Oh, yes, long division.

Can anyone besides Gretchen
figure out the answer

to this problem?

All right. Gretchen.

In a simple problem like this,

I quickly see that the answer is .,

but if it were--

Excuse me, Gretchen. You're only warm.

Warm? Are you trying to say I'm wrong?

Let's just say your answer
lacks correctness.

I hate to be a know-it-all, miss Grotke,

but I think the answer book
must be mistaken again.

Hey, Jared's got an answer.

No, I don't really.

Yeah, you do. According to Jared,

The answer is ,
then a little dot thingy,

.

Oh, please.

No, wait. Jared's right.

But that's impossible.

Well, it looks like we have two
math whizzes in our class.

schools since kindergarten?

He broke my record, my only record.

I'm sure he cheated on that problem.

Probably has one of those
wristwatch calculators.

Ah, come one, so this Jared guy is been
through more schools than Gus.

So he got one math problem quicker
than Gretchen, big crouppen whoops.

You guys, don't get it.

I haven't been corrected
by an adult since I was .

I've never ever been corrected by a peer.

So? You still have
the highest score in history

on that Arkansas Standard
Achievement Test.

Did I?

Are you student .?

Uh, yeah.

I'm student ..

Nice to meet you. I think we're gonna be
great friends, don't you?

I always thought you were
a mere statistical abstraction.

No, I'm just a regular kid like you.

Only smarter.

Hey, recess is a-wastin'.

What do you guys say
we go play on the jungle gym?

,Yeah, last one to old rusty

is a rotten egg soaked in hot sauce

that someone spit on.

Come on, Gretchen. Come on, Gus.

OK. I'd hate to be some sort of yucky egg.

Yeah, what have I got to lose?

Come on, Jared. You, too.

No, I don't really believe in competition.

Competition?
It's just a race to the jungle gym.

It's all in the spirit of fun.

OK.

Whoa!

-Ooh, a side ache.
-Me too.

You b*at me.

Yeah, well, you know,
all in the spirit of fun.

I can't believe it.
What kind of shoes you got on?

Same as yours.

So it's not the shoes.

Well, I think I just had
a little adrenalin going,

being new and all.

How are you at basketball?

-OK.
-[boy] Little help?

-Want to play?
-Maybe later.

Sure.

Man, that guy is good.

Don't rub it in.

[crowd cheering]

-Next.
-No, thanks.

-Not me.
-Maybe next year.

Perhaps young Jared
would enjoy the challenge.

Yeah. No, I couldn't.

Sure, you could, buddy?

Don't be afraid. Spinelli won't hurt you.

Well, I have always wanted to try this.

Sucker.

Ah, big old slab of fresh meat.

Somebody say ", , , go."

[all]
, , , go.

Want to call it a tie?

Ties are for Father's Day. A muerte.

You sure?

I won't settle for less.

OK. A muerte.

[all gasping]

You slammed me.

True, but you did very well,
considering your size.

[bell rings]

Well, better get to class.

[stammering]
But-- but nobody's ever slammed me before,

nobody.

Look at him sitting there

eating his perfect little lunch

Out of his perfect little
Señor Fusion lunch box.

It makes me sick.

Yeah, Mr. schools.

Mr. Faster than everybody.

Mr. Perfect.

Is quality a crime?

What's that supposed to mean?

I'm just saying excellence is something
to be treasured, not scorned.

We should be proud to be in the presence

of someone of Jared's superior abilities.

Yeah, well, just you wait till
his superior abilities

shine on you, pal.

I'll welcome it with open arms.

If love is beauty and love is blind,

and it's out of sight and out of mind,

then how can you be with me still

like hummingbird and daffodil?

Morning dew may dampen grass,

but not our love that's here to last.

Bravo, bravo! Bellissimma!

What a beautiful soul.

I hate that guy!

How could this have happened?

How? I'm the best poet in fourth grade.
Not Jared.

Fair is foul, and foul is...

Oh, I can't remember the rest of it.

Oh, come on, Mikey, you're overreacting.

Am I? Look around, T.J. Look around.

The diggers can't dig
'cause Jared's already dug

the perfect hole.

The swinger can't swing
'cause Jared's already swung

over the top of the swing set eight times.

And look what he's done to Tubby.

Him used to be best burper
in kindergarten.

Then big kid Jared make
giant burp, shake windows.

Now Tubby say him never burp again.

Face it, T.J., recess is a disaster.

Oh, you guys are letting
this Jared thing get to you.

Look at me, I'm not upset.

Hey, Teej, you know the clackers

miss Finster confiscated
from us last spring?

The ones you said there was no plan

good enough to get back?

Yeah.

-Well, Jared just got them back.
-Woohoo.

Jared's a menace, and he must be stopped.

I say we tie him up and dress him
in last year's ultra suede.

Let's see him accessorize that.

I say we tell Finster he's a communist.

Perhaps we should all join hands
and visualize him gone.

I say we pummel the showoff. Where is he?

He's inside lecturing the faculty
about the latest theories on education.

No, no, miss Grotke,

you've got Vigotski confused with Dewey.

You've got to scaffold kids,
mentor their behavior.

Thank you, Jared.
What was cloudy is now clear.

Fraternizing with the enemy?

Add treason to his list of offenses.

That makes nine!

[all talking]

[whistles]
There is one thing we could do.

It's brutal, but it might do the trick.

-What's that, T.J.?
-Instigate a lockout.

A lockout? We haven't done one
since we locked out

that booger-eating kid
back in first grade.

Hey, I got over it, solely.

Guys, it's the only way.

Hi, guys. What you digging?

Can I help?

OK, I guess I'll just
do a little swinging then.

Hi, swinger girl. Mind if I join you?

Sure. We don't have to talk.

-We'll just swing.
-Taken

Taken.

Taken.

[sighs]

Hey, guys, how about -way?

Only got two mitts.

-Want to play pickle?
Want to play leave us alone?

OK, I'll bite.

What's going on around here?

[boy]
Think about it, Jared.

You chose to come in here
and b*at us all at everything.

Guess what? We choose to put a stop to it.

It's a lockout, pal. Get used to it.

You know, I'm actually sort of impressed.

You guys really came up with a good one.

A good one? What's that supposed
to mean, perfect boy?

This happens at every school that I go to.

Eventually the kids
realize I'm good at stuff

and shun me.

Only they all have
their own way of doing it,

tapping my bike, dumping my books,

training a hamster
to use my desk as a toilet.

But a school-wide lockout?

That's a good one.

But before I spend recess in the library

for the rest of the year,

let me just say one thing.

All I wanted was to be
friends with you guys.

I never wanted to show anybody up.

I didn't tell miss Grotke
I knew the right answer

to Gretchen's problem,

or challenge Vince to a foot race,

or spinelli to arm-wrestling.

You guys challenged me.

I mean, what do you want me to do?
Pretend I'm no good?

-Works for me.
-[all] Yeah.

No, I can't do that. Can't you see?
I can't stop being good at stuff

any more than Gretchen
can stop being smart,

or Vince can stop being fast,

or Mikey can stop being
a sweet-souled giant.

Most people don't get that
about me right away.

I'd trade places with any
of you guys any day.

You think it's easy being Mr. Perfect?

You think it's easy getting locked out

or facing down angry mobs
or opening your thermos

to find it full of papier-mâché mix?

Papier-mâché mix! That's hilarious.

We should have thought of that one!
[laughing]

[all] Shh!

You know how people say

no matter how could you get,
there's always

someone out there who's better than you?

For me, it's different.

There might not be anybody better,

but there's always somebody happier.

Anyway, that's about it.
I just wanted to say that

before I was locked out forever.

[Tubby] Wait!

What the--

Tubby want say something to perfect man.

What's that?

[burps]

Kid, you got chops!

[all cheering]

"Finally, it is my passion
for m*llitary miniatures,

the love of a snake named Herbert,

and much, much more

that make me someone extra special.

The end."

My Godness, Gus, that's the longest paper
you've ever written.

Well, I got some pointers from a pal.

We're looking for Jared Smith.

Over here, gentlemen.

Jared, there's been a situation.

The president needs your advice.

-Again?
-Sorry.

Adults. Why can't they learn

to solve their own problems?

But Jared, you can't go now.

Since playing against you,
I have better game.

And feel this muscle I got building
on this arm. Go on, feel it.

Sorry, guys. Duty calls.

Goodbye, Jared. We'll not forget thee.

Whoa. He ex*cuted a perfect barrel roll.

[bell rings]