01x05 - Tool and Die

[bunniefuu]

BIG PETE:
This is the Kraftsbilt 2000,

also known as the Gashmaster.

Its 17-inch blade,
with 248 steel teeth,

can slice a telephone pole
in half in 9.2 seconds.

The way I see it,
anything with 248 teeth

should not be allowed
in a school.

If you screw up
using the Kraftsbilt 2000,

or the Nortron F7 grinder,

or the Imprag rotary lathe,

best case,
you'll go home minus a thorax.

You see,
my philosophy is simple.

In a world
where there are literally

10 million ways to mutilate
yourself on a normal day,

why go messing around
with tools?

It was a philosophy
that I based my entire life

and school schedule around...

that is, until one fateful day
last spring,

when the school schedule gods

were in the mood
to bust my clams,

because when my new schedule
arrived,

I saw the one word
that I prayed I'd never see:

"Shop."

? Hey, smilin' strange ?

? You're lookin'
happily deranged ?

? Can you settle to sh**t me ?

? Or have you picked
your target yet? ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Don't you talk back ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?
? Hey, Sandy ?

? Don't you talk back ?
? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Don't you talk back ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy, hey. ?

Tools--

they're loud, they're sharp,

and they can k*ll you.

And what do you end up with

after risking your limbs
and life?

A spice rack.

Is there anything
more pointless in life

than a spice rack?

And is making a spice rack
worth the loss of a body part

that I've come to know
and love?

Obviously, the schedule gods
must think so.

Either that,
or they're into spicy food.

And that's where
my story begins:

in the dungeon that is shop.

All right. Real funny.

Put my head into a vice.

Can you take it out now?

If it's so funny,

why aren't you laughing,
Korn-boy?

Mike, please don't put
his head in the vice.

What are you, his dad?

As a matter of
fact, I am his dad.

Oh.

Luckily,
like a lot of socketheads,

Endless Mike Helstrom
was very easy to confuse.

He was one
of those high school lifers

who always seemed
to be in shop.

You know the type.

Guys with names like Harley
and Fleck.

Well, here's something
you might not have known.

Socketheads rule their turf.

You need a tool...

you come to me.

You need a nut...

nail, screw, bolt, nut...

you come to me.

You need, uh, safety goggles
or a helmet...

you come to me.

And maybe, if you pay attention

and you follow the rules
of the class,

Mr. Slurm-- he might let
you work on a special project.

Questions?

What special project?

( laughs )

If you deserve to know,
you'll know.

What's that
supposed to mean?

Who cares?

I don't want to
have anything to do

with Slurm's
special project.

I'm just going to
sit in the back,

get my "C", and see
you later, shop class.

You know, I heard all about
Slurm's special project.

It's a cryogenic
freezer.

He wants to freeze his
own head when he dies.

ELLEN:
Really?

Uh-uh. It's an antiballistic
fragmentary expl*sive.

What, you guys
never heard of those?

Teddy, you can't make
a b*mb in shop class.

Want to bet?

Besides, I heard that Slurm
wants to get the guy back who...

( footsteps approaching )

Oh, yeah.

There was something I forgot
to tell you about Mr. Slurm.

Nobody knew how he lost it,

but just like
his special project,

practically everyone
had a theory.

I heard he cut
it off himself

so he could be part tool.

Uh-uh. Land mine.

Recon Delta, '67.

Another theory was
that Slurm made his claw

and all its attachments
himself...

( scraping )

...in shop class.

Wood.

Theory and practice.

I couldn't believe
that I actually had

to sit there and listen

to this ratchetbrain
babble on about wood.

And what was the story
with all those attachments?

( buzzing )

And I couldn't figure out

whether everyone else
had been lulled

into a hypnotic trance
by Slurm's sideshow

or if they were
seriously into it.

Hey.

Shh.

Perhaps you could tell us

the most sullen wood we've
discussed so far, Mister...

Wrigley.

Naugahyde?

Mahogany?

Uh, I mean...

...walnut?

So much for vanishing.

Right then, I decided
that I had too much at stake

to cross this guy.
( bell ringing )

It was only the first day,

and already,
Slurm had me pegged.

But while one Pete was busted,
the other Pete was in business.

When he heard
I was taking shop,

he took an after-school job
as an insurance salesman.

Our motto is, "When you
least expect it, expect it."

But Pete wasn't selling
car insurance

or homeowner's insurance.

Pete was in
the dismemberment business.

He had a chart that showed
every body part

and their value in cash
and merchandise.

Bill was the only one
who bit Pete's bait.

I sure didn't,
because there was no way

that I was even going
near the power tools.

The Kraftsbilt is not

a toy, and...

it is not just a tool.

It is the Cadillac of saws.

Use it carefully.

12 years ago, a
Mr. Navie didn't.

One hair of his got caught

around the Kraftsbilt
patented Acu-chrome
spinning driveshaft.

The rest of his scalp
quickly followed.

Who'd like to cut

something with the TS-4...

or as you'll soon be
calling it...

Slasher?

( metal ringing )

Ah, yes.

How about...?

ELLEN:
I will, Mr. Slurm.

Thankfully, Ellen saved
my thorax for the moment,

but what I didn't know

was that Ellen wasn't
really saving me.

She was leaving me,
because within a week,

Ellen had turned
into a Slurmoid.

Did you know
that a blowtorch burns

with the same intensity
as the Earth's core?

If you stare into the flame
long enough,

you can see its soul.

Want to look, Pete?

( snoring )

I knew that Ellen had a history
of going a little, well,

overboard at times,
but this was ridiculous.

I don't think of it
as melting the metal.

I think of it...
as setting it free!

It didn't take long
for me to realize

that I was the only kid
in that class

who just wanted to get a "C"

and get out of shop forever.

It's Danish modern.

( bell ringing )

That is, until our midterm
projects were due.

You are one
sick kid-- "D."

You see, Slurm had
his own way of grading.

Airless. Airless. C-minus.

Ah, the Caligari technique.

Very good,
young lady. B-plus.

He liked it, Pete.

Maybe I'll get to work
on his special project.

I can't believe you want
to work on that thing.

Why not?

It would be an honor.

An honor?
Are you kidding?

Slurm is a...

Ah...

Mr. Wrigley.

Well, well, well,
well, well...

I want everyone to
look at what Mr.
Wrigley has done.

( laughs )

What are you
laughing at, Mike?

Well... I...

There's real...
poetry here.

Yes...

Real feeling,
Mr. Wrigley.

Come with me,
young man.

( amplified heartbeat )

You'll sit here
till the end of the term.

But...

You're going to be part
of my special project team,

right alongside Mike.

Him?
Him?

Me?

For the rest
of the semester, Mr. Wrigley,

you and I
are going to be one.

( bell clangs )

It took me
exactly three seconds

to learn one thing
about Slurm's special project--

There was nothing
special about it.

Use the chop saw
and make me a circular form,

and this time,
Mr. Wrigley,

don't hew the edges.

I had become Slurm's
personal power tool.

I sawed, sanded, drilled,
hammered.

Every day,
my limbs were in danger.

And if that weren't bad enough,

Slurm never told me
what I was working on.

Never.

All I knew was that he kept it
hidden from the world

in a cabinet
that was never opened.

No one else seemed
too concerned about it,

but no matter how hard I tried,

I couldn't stop wondering
what was in there.

It was like

some black hole

that kept trying to suck me
into its whirling vortex.

What was Slurm hiding?

What difference
does it make?

It's a special project.

But don't you think
it's a little weird

that Slurm won't tell me
what it is?

It wouldn't matter to me.

How do they expect me to
work with metal this soft?

It's like cheese.

Maybe it is an antiballistic
fragmentary expl*sive.

I think you're going a
little overboard, Pete.

I don't trust him,
Ellen.

( sighs )

If the special project
wasn't something bad
or dangerous,

why wouldn't he tell me
what it is?

I'm working on it.

If you're really
that worried about it,

why don't you just
ask Mike what it is?

Mike who?

Mike.

Mike Helstrom.

Since when did you start calling
Endless Mike, "Mike"?

Whenever I call him Mike,

he helps me out.

Mike.

Oh, boy, that,
uh, Kraftsbilt

sure does ride
like a Cadillac, huh?

So can you believe

what Slurm has us
making, huh, Mike?

Nice try, carrothead.

How about cutting me
a two-by of ply?

Thanks,

saw boy.

( chuckles )

So much for the

"my friend, Mike" approach.

I thought about going
to the police

or even Vice Principal Lerdner,
but I had no evidence.

They would have just
laughed in my face.

( amplified heartbeat )

Somehow, I had to sneak a look
at the plans

to the special project.

I knew I couldn't do it alone,

so I decided to get by
with a little help

from my friends.

Mr. Slurm.

There's somebody outside
who needs to see you.

To make sure my scheme

went smoothly,
I took out a little insurance.

LITTLE PETE:
Sir,

may I have a moment
of your time?

No, you may not.

( singsongy ):
You'll be sorry.

It was a policy
I knew would deliver.

Getting Slurm out of my way
was the easy part.

It was diverting Endless Mike
that made me a little squirmy.

( machine jams and stops )

( screaming )

Korn.

Our research shows
that 47% of all people

who experience
one misfortune

will experience
another.

Aw, geez,

I'm sorry.

I guess I should have used
the chop saw, huh, Mike?

Didn't I tell you

never to cut against the grain
of the wood?

Didn't I?!

SLURM:
Mr. Wrigley...

I forgot to tell you.

The project's over.

What?

Yes, it's finished.

You've completed
the requirements
for this course.

But...

I said it's finished,
Mr. Wrigley.

Now, return
to your regular table.

So I was free,

free from being Slurm's sl*ve.

I should have been the happiest
I've ever been.

But for some strange reason,
I wasn't.

Could Slurm have known
that I was on to him?

And now was he trying
to keep me

from getting too close
to his secret?

( grinding sound )

I just couldn't shake
the sinking feeling

that I had helped Slurm
build something evil.

Who knows what that twisted
psycho had had me working on?

If only I had proof
of what he was up to,

I'd nail that freak show
for sure.

So on the night
before our final class,

I decided to find out
for myself...

once and for all.

( screaming )

( saw turns off )

Who's there?

Who's there?

I know somebody's

out there.

( screaming )

Ah, Mr. Wrigley.

I've been waiting for you.

Good.

'Cause there's something
I want to talk to you about.

I want...

I demand to know
what I've been working on.

You demand?

Come into my office,
Mr. Wrigley.

Sit down, Mr. Wrigley.

Are you comfortable?

Now, what is it exactly
that you're looking for?

You know.

The antiballistic
fragmentary expl*sive.

Or that cryogenic chamber.

Cryogenic chamber.

( chuckles ):
Wow. That's a new one.

Cryogenics.

Tell me what it is!

Relax, Mr. Wrigley.

Calm down.

Are you comfortable?

Stop asking me that.

Well, I want to know,
because I am very comfortable.

I have been ever since
you finished building

this air conditioner
for my office.

That's it?

An air conditioner?

That's the special project?

Oh, Mr. Wrigley, give yourself
a little more credit.

This isn't just
an air conditioner.

Look. It has three settings:

low, medium,

and over here we have high.

I prefer medium.

You feel that?

Ah...

( inhales sharply )

Medium.

But that's not fair.

Fair.

You have no idea
what fair is, Mr. Wrigley.

What's fair is when someone
thinks it's worthless

to take shop and so he makes
worthless things

because he has no respect
for the wood

or what he can do with it.

What's fair is for that
worthless student

to get an "F."

Now, what's not fair

is when something's
taken away from you

at a very young age,

before you have the chance
to discover its power.

Every year,
there's one just like you.

And every year,

we make a little deal,

and in the end,
everyone's happy.

I get what I want,

and you get your "C."

SLURM:
Now, there's one more favor

we can do for each other.

Don't bother coming
to class tomorrow.

You don't want to be here,
I don't want you here.

Besides,
you couldn't make
a chopping block

if you tried.

So take your "C"
and see you later.

Wrigley,
what are you doing?

Making something.

( chuckles )

Well, make sure
you turn off the light

after you make it.

And, uh, Mr. Wrigley,
don't forget

to turn off
my air conditioner
when you leave.

Don't worry,
it won't hurt you.

I worked like mad
all through the night.

And as I worked,

I couldn't help
but think about,

well, everything: Mr. Slurm,
his hand, his special project,

and the feeling of being
worthless in someone's eyes.

But I knew the truth.

Pete Wrigley was better
than that.

And it was time for Slurm
to learn it, too.

The next morning, I was ready
to get the grade I deserved.

( bell rings )

Metal never looks as lovely
as when it's been set free.

Excellent job, Miss Hickle.

"A."

Well...

Mr. Wrigley.

It looks like you've used
the five-eighths bit here.

Seven-eighths, sir.

Oh, yes,
I can see that.

And this was cut
with the Kraftsbilt 2000.

Just the base.

Really?

On a piece
that narrow.

Hmm.

I could never
get it to do that.

Nice touch,
Mr. Wrigley.

B-plus.

Okay. So maybe I didn't exactly
slay him,

but at least I proved
that I could do it.

And I guess that's what
Mr. Slurm wanted me

to learn all along.

He just had his own way
of teaching me.

And even though I still think
that tools are loud, sharp,

and can k*ll you...

when you make something
you're proud of,

sometimes it's worth the risk.