02x09 - The Science Pair

[bunniefuu]

GIRL:
Four, three, two, one!

[ rock music playing]

♪ Every birthday,
my mom and dad would say ♪

♪ "You're another year older,
another year wiser" ♪

♪ But I still go to school

♪ To get an education

♪ I treat each and every day

♪ Like a mini vacation

♪ All grown up!

♪ I really want
to shout it out ♪

♪ All grown up!

♪ I want the world to know

♪ All grown up!

♪ I really want
to shout it out ♪

♪ All grown up

♪ With you

♪ All grown up with...

♪ you.

Molecules in action
make me giddy.

Remember, the density
of the goo has to be

higher than the liquid.

As it sinks,
the light heats it,

causing it to expand
and rise again.

It won't work
unless you make it dense.

You're good.

[ shrieks]

Geez, Lil, try breathing.

I just followed
the instructions-- no big.

Wrong-o.

Big, big.

[ no voices]

Oh, no, not Nicholas again.

Nicholas is
so totally the b*mb.

[ hissing and sizzling]

Duck and cover.

Stat!

STUDENTS:
Ew!

Now seems like a good time
for my exciting announcement.

I give you... the
Science-Palooza Wall of Fame.

Each year, the student
with the best science project

wins a place of honor
on this coveted wall

and a week
at outer-space camp

run by Svetlana Platzmackinoff,

an actual retired
cosmonaut alternate--

and her dog.

[ students murmuring]

Man, I'm totally down
with the zero-gravity,

outer-space camp thing.

I want to win so bad

I can almost taste
the space dust.

Cool your rocket boosters,
Tommy.

I got a project in mind

that's going to knock
everyone's socks off!

[ gasps ]

[ students laughing]

Would you listen
to those guys?

Yeah...

we could win
the space race on pure

girls-are-so-obviously-
smarter-than-boys power.

I think I'm going
to sit this one out.

The whole thing sounds
dangerous.

I'm afraid of heights,

especially outer space,
no-terra-firma-in-sight kind.

Besides, Tommy,

you've got the head
for science.

Yeah, I get it from my dad.

He's...

Pure science genius.

I'm telling you,
the Ride-O-Vac is
going to make

the housewife's life
a breeze.

Ooh, can't wait!

[ machine vacuuming ]

Ooh!

[ shouting over machine]:
I-I think it needs work, dear!

[ shouting over machine]:
So it still has a few kinks!

Turn it off!

[ machine clicks off]

Hope I'm not losing
the old Pickles touch.

TOMMY:
I know it's
ambitious, Chuckie,

but I can do it.

What you got there,
guys?

Just the Tommy Pickles
Palooza project plans.

Say that
three times fast.

Mind if I take a look?

I call it
the Socks-O-Matic.

Got the idea from Chuckie.

Automatically sorts socks
by color and texture

so no has to suffer

a fashion tragedy
again.

Hey, who are you
calling a tragedy?

I see-- you use
your camcorder imaging chip

to distinguish color.

Then servomotors
and advanced robotics

sort the socks
into these bins.

Impressive.

I guess you inherited
my genius gene.

Yeah.

Hey, Dad,

could I pick your brain
once in a while

if I run into a snag?

It's going to be
a huge challenge.

Sure thing, champ.

It could actually be fun--

like the time
with your soapbox derby car.

That wascool.

[ machine begins sputtering]

[ dog yelps]

Trust me, if I had time,
I'd ask.

[ dog continues yelping]

Chip off the old block.

Hi, guys.

Were you able to snag anything
from home, Lil?

My mom's drum set
and dad's old lute.

You heard
of player pianos?

We're making
a whole player band.

That actually sounds
pretty tight--

but not as tight
as my project.

Yeah, it's a...

Secret.

You'll have to wait
for the unveiling

when I take the top prize
at Palooza Scientific.

Puke-o-rama!

Milk's bad as bad gets.

Whoa, worse even.

Uh, guys?

That's your milk.

You're drinking
my science project.

I'm growing different bacteria

to see which has the highest
reekage quotient.

Phil...

will you ever
grow up?

[ shrieks]

That boy on my arm...

would be the ultimate
fashion statement.

Then you better make room
in your closet

because he's coming
this way.

Oh, my gosh!

Act normal.

Fake it.

Hey...

you're the girl
who fed the club

a volcanic sandwich
the other day?

Pretty trick.

Hey, I-I don't know if
you already have a partner

for the science-dealy-o,
but, uh...

Love to!

[ whispering]:
Would you mind?

I'll make it up
to you.

How about...
Go!

Thank you,
thank you...

Go.

Going.

Sweet.

I was thinking about doing
a sociologistic-ic thingy

on how different peeps,
like, react

to getting spitballed...

and stuff.

Wow...

sounds really...
original.

[ Lil squealing excitedly]

Anyone see Dil?

He's been staying late at school
for science club.

Dil's not in science club.

Yes, but he's the subject
of three different experiments.

Oh.
Oh.

How's the project going?

I'm having a little trouble

getting these servomotors
timed right.

[ whirring]

Calibrating servos takes
some practice.

Here.

[ whirring]

Awesome!

Thanks, Dad.

Hey, I got a few more questions.

sh**t.

Oh, it's so nice to see
father and son

bonding over
wheels and gears.

Would you mind moving
to the basement?

Sure, Deed, no prob
for Team Pickles.

Hey, nice springs,
where'd you get them?

Uh, borrowed them--
let's go.

[ crashing]

[ no voices]

[ mechanical whirring]

[ no audio]

[ Tommy sighs]

Here goes.

[ machine whirring
and beeping]

We so totally did it, Dad!

The Socks-O-Matic sorted
correctly

almost .% of the time.

But I still can't understand

why it doesn't work
on Dil's socks.

Thanks for all your help, Dad.

This little baby is
my first-class ticket

to outer-space camp.

You should really be proud
of yourself, Tommy.

I know I'm proud of you.

We better get to bed.

I promised your Mom
we wouldn't stay up
too late.

Uh, Dad? That was
three nights ago.

[ applause and cheering]

[ fanfare plays]

Where are we going?

PLATZMACKINOFF:
Where better to have
outer-space camp

than in space?

[ rocket engines whooshing]

[ crashing; computer beeping]

Huh?

[ hammering]

Dad?

What are you doing?

I was almost asleep
when it came to me:

why stop
at socks?

Why couldn't we
expand our device

to sort shoes,
earrings, gloves--

anything?!

[ hammering continues]

"Our"?

"We"?

[ hammering continues]

Lil nabbed Nicholas

as her science project
partner!

Oh, she's so lucky.

[ spitball splattering]

Ew!

Ow!

Ew!Ew!
Yes!

Bull's-eye!

Did you get it?

No... I didn't
see a thing.

Whoa.

You are, like,
one of those camera geniuses.

Or something.

Ew!

Uh... yeah.

Maybe I should take
the pics

and you should do
the spitballing.

Okay--

aim for the one
who looks like me,

only way ugly.

[ inhales; begins hacking,
coughing]

It was such a rush
to see my design working.

Now I totally understand
how my dad feels

when he makes
a breakthrough.

And, thanks to your invention,

I now know how it feels to be
fully men's-wear-coordinated.

Nice try, you guys,

but I'm not falling
for your not-so-clever ruse

to intimidate me

into dropping
project Reek-O-Rama.

Yeah, Phil,
that was my evil plan.

Anyway, it's been
a total blast

working with my dad
on my project,

but, uh, you guys
don't see anything wrong

with him helping, do you?

Well, it was
your idea, right?

Yeah.

You did the real work?

Yeah.

I don't see one. You?

Heck no.

Where would I be
without a little help

from my friend,
Mr. Bacterium.

Hey...

thanks for
the saliva sample.

[ laughing]

TOMMY:
Dad?

What happened to my...

Hey-hey-hey, champ,

just in time
for the first test run.

[ toys squeaking]

[ machine whirring]

[ machine beeps]

[ machine beeps]

[ machine beeps]

[ machine beeps]
[ machine beeps rapidly]

STU:
Hey, hey... whoa!

[ machine whirring rapidly]

Wow.

Maybe I really have
lost my touch.

Nah, no way, Dad.

I-I think
it shows promise.

Really?

Hey, what if
we attach something

to help regulate
the centrifugal force, like...

maybe a lazy Susan.

Yeah, but where
are we going...

Mom has one.

You mean
the good silver one

she guards like
Fort Knox treasure?

Yeah, that one.

We couldn't!

Could we?

Project's on perma-hold
otherwise.

LIL:
Ergo, from this data,

we broke down the reactions
according to social group

and concluded that...

absolutely everyone
hated being spitballed.

Cool.

No, not cool.

It means we didn't
prove anything.

Well, so what?

We got to spitball a bunch
of kids in the name of science.

That rocks.

Nicholas, you seriously
have to take this seriously.

How can I take anything
seriously

with that seriously
bad stench?

[ sniffing]

Oh... has your father
been cooking

with Slovakian cheese
again?

[ all sniffing]

[ screaming]

PHIL:
What are you
doing?

[ screaming]

I cultured them from
mold under the kitchen sink,

leftovers from the fridge,

and-- my favorite so far--
Lil's gym socks.

[ gasps]

[ laughing]

I'll take care
of that.

You should get to bed.

But we have to work on it
together.

We're a team, remember?

Sure we are.

Just making
a few adjustments.

It's still
your vision, right?

Yeah.

[ softly]:
I guess.

Should we go back
to my original plan?

You know, keep it simple.

Sure thing, Tommy.

Just minor tweaks.

[ crashing]

Okay, semi-major
tweaks.

I've got to admit,

Nicholas on your arm does
make a statement.

Yeah, it says...

I'm hanging with
a blithering idiot!

Huh?

I've decided to drop
the spitball project.

Instead, I'm doing a case study
on Nicholas entitled,

"The Mind of the Mindless."

Works for me.

Kimi, I'm really sorry
I blew you off.

I should have known better

than to choose
eye-candy

over functioning
brain cells.

No worries.

The player band was
pretty much a bust anyway.

Worked great once,

but after that
one big success,

the instruments refused
to play together again.

Hmm. I'll take a look.

I work well
with difficult things.

Speaking of which,
where is Phil?

CHUCKIE:
They were worried

his project
could be infectious.

Don't say
"science project."

Not going well?

My dad started out helping,
then pretty much took over.

I'm totally caught; I really
want to win this thing, but...

Why not just ask him
to back off?

You should see him.

He's having so much fun.

And-and it's a blast
working with him.

I guess I just don't want
to mess that up.

I know what you mean.

My dad still hasn't
gotten over the day I told him

I could button my own shirt.

Ugh.

[ crashing]

[ machine whirring and beeping]

Do something!

[ growling]

I can't.

I don't know how--
it's not mine!

It's not mine!

It's not mine!
It's not mine...

I have to tell him.

[ whistling]

Hey, Dad?

Can we talk?

What's up, slugger?

Ready for your big day?

Um, well...
about the Science-Palooza.

You know my original plan
for the Socks-O-Matic?

Sure do.

Pure genius!

Wait till you see it now.

That's what
we should talk about.

I finished it!

Wasn't easy,

but it was
worth it.

We're going
to win.

Stu Pickles is back!

[ laughing maniacally]

Who says I've lost it?

Uh... no one.

Hey, Tommy, you okay?

Uh, just a little tired.

Oh, my, Tommy.

I had no idea you were doing
something so elaborate.

Neither did I.

Mom? Uh...

New look?

Someone took the motor
out of my hair dryer

and absconded
with my shoes.

I'm innocent.

Guilty.

Uh, we don't want
to be late.

I promise, Deed,
my absconding days are over.

[ crashing]

Starting now.

[ buzzing]

TOMMY:
Whoa...

weirdness abounds.

[ magnetic hum]

I rest my case.

[ laughing maniacally]

Ew.
Ew.

ALL:
Ew...

Wow, I can't believe Phil
actually out-weirded Dil.

Come on, Tommy,

why don't we get
this party started.

[ groans]

[ music begins playing]

I can't believe

we actually
pulled it off.

Yeah, thanks to your
last-minute mondo help.

And without even compromising
my ultra-revealing project.

[ laughing]

[ gasps]

Hi.

Uh...

Light's better over here.

Uh... okay.

Anyway...

I just came by to tell you
what an idiot I am.

You know, for not taking
our experiment seriously.

Oh... that.

Yeah, I kind of
only proposed it

because I thought
you seemed happening

and I wanted
to hang.

So, sorry.

Really?

Tight.

Uh, I mean,
that's cool.

Uh...
Let's dance!

[ mechanical whirring]

[ machine beeping]

[ students murmuring]

TEACHER:
Tommy Pickles.

If any other kid had entered
a masterpiece like this,

I would have suspected
foul play.

Mr. Beaker, the truth is,
I didn't make...

[ Beaker yells]

[ coughing]

[ gasps]

Do something.

[ machine beeping rapidly]

I'm trying, but it's not mine!

Of course it's
not your fault, Tommy.

People shouldn't
get too close

to a delicate
machine!

[ machine beeps once]

[ sighs]

It's the time
we've all been waiting for:

the naming of this year's
Science-Palooza winner.

[ cheering]

Here to make the announcement,

I'm proud to introduce
my friend and colleague,

Major Svetlana Platzmackinoff.

[ audience cheering]

[ barking]

And her dog.

PLATZMACKINOFF:
And the winner is...

[ softly]:
Not me, not me, not me...

Tommy Pickles!

[ cheering]

What?!

That stinks!

ALL:
Thatstinks!

You did it, Tommy.

You won.

Didn't you hear?

[ barking]

AUDIENCE:
Speech! Speech! Speech!

Speech! Speech! Speech!

Uh...

I'm very proud of
my Science-Palooza project,

but... that isn't it.

[ all gasp]

I got help creating
the sorter.

Maybe a little too much help.

My invention just does socks.

So... I can't accept a prize
I don't deserve.

[ one person clapping]

[ audience cheering]

[ barking]

I'm so proud.

Uh, hi, Dad.

I'm sorry.

But at the last second
I just couldn't do it.

I hope you're not
too disappointed.

But you could have gone
to outer-space camp.

We won.

No, Dad, youwon.

And it wasn't
supposed to be "we,"

it was supposed to be... me.

But you asked for my help.

And I wanted it,

but even though
you didn't mean to,
you took over.

I just wanted it to be
the best project I...

I just said "I," didn't I?

I know I should have
said something sooner,

but I didn't because
working with you was

some of the best fun
I've ever had.

In fact,
I have some ideas

for our next
father/son project.

Sorry I got
so carried away, sport.

I didn't mean to.

I bet your Socks-O-Matic
would have won.

Yeah, considering the new
winner's project stunk.

PHIL:
Just think--

a solid week
of outer-space camp.

All thanks to my prize-winning
"Ode To Lil Deville."

[ screaming]

[ higher-pitched screaming]

[ glass breaking]

Ah...

PLATZMACKINOFF:
Mr. Pickles?

BOTH:
Right here.

[ barking]

You call me tomorrow.

My cosmonaut comrades and I

have been looking
for machine to sort
rocket-engine parts.

Who knows difference
between bolt and nut?

I send you postcard
from outer-space camp.

Come, Trotsky!

[ barking]

DIDI:Oh...

that round
silver thing

on top of the sorter

looks a lot like
my good lazy Sus...

Stu!

Tommy!

DIDI:
Oh!

STU:
Who says I've lost it?

[ laughing maniacally]