01x07 - I Want to Be You

[bunniefuu]

We've got an invitation
to the society's annual costume party.

Look, Sprocket,
it's tonight.

Let's think of a reason
not to go.

Calm down, Sprocket.
If you really want to go, we'll go.

But you decide
what we should wear.

You might find something
in that old clothes trunk.

Remember last year?
We went as a cowboy.

I made a terrible horse.

Everybody knew it was me right away.

But I have to admit
you were pretty good.

The cowboy hat you wore
looked terrific.

And the arrow through-the-head joke
was the perfect touch, perfect.

It's too bad
about the boots though.

You should have warned me
about the spurge.

Wolf?

No, Sprocket, we went as
little red riding hood years ago.

It's me, Gobo.

Of course it's you, Gobo.

Now, let me tell you
about this slide stunt I made up.

It's fantastic!

You were scared,
weren't you?

Me? Scared?

Let me tell you about
the slide stunt.

Okay, but first cover your eyes.

-Now what?
-Dark, isn't it?

How can I fall for that!

I think it's over here.
Let's booberate it.

Oh, reddish radish,

water gurgles

garden path

What rhymes with "gurgles"?

Gobo and I are going to practice
the most terrific slide stunts
you have ever seen.

Great!

Let me show you, Gobo.

How about "wiggles"??

I'm writing a poem.
I need a word that rhymes with "gurgles".

You're writing a poem, Mockey?

-Your tail goes like this.
-Watch it, that hurts!

Sorry.

You know me, Mockey.
I'm not too good at poems.

But sliding,
sliding is my specialty.

Actually falling on your face
is your specialty.

It doesn't matter.
It will come to me.

Can I read your poem
when you're finished, Mockey?

Sure.

Now back to the Red and Gobo slide.

You mean Gobo and Red slide.

Watch carefully.

First we stand like this,

only we do it at the top
of the slide.

Wait a minute.

Then we bend back until our heads
touch our tails.

But then we can't see
where we're going.

She'll k*ll us.

I finished it!

Saved by the poem.

We'll do the slide later.
Okay, Red?

Later?

Hi, Boober.
Hi, Wembley.

You wanna hear my poem?

Is it an elegy to
plague and pestilence?

We'll do it later, Red,
I promise.
But I'm ready now.

None of that, exactly.
It's called Ode to Radishes.

-Radishes, my favorite.
-Mine too.

Little radish by a tree,

growing reddish silently

Reddish radish brook that gurgles

garden path where life "unfurgles"

I like it.

Forget it.

It's so wonderfully morose.

Thank you.

Why does everybody think a poem
is better than a good slide?

Nobody said
"Red, show us your slide".

They all said,
"Mockey, read us your poem".

Dreaming of someone
As gentle as the dew

Graceful as a someone can be

Dreaming of someone
And feeling very blue

Because I know
that someone isn't me

And how I wish
I could change myself

Change to somebody new

And how I long
to exchange myself

How I wish I were you

Dreaming of making
A garden in my mind

Where poems grow
like leaves on a tree

Dreaming and waking
And every time I find

That extra special someone
isn't me

And how I wish
I could change myself

Change to somebody new

And how I long to
exchange myself

How I wish I were you

Maybe I ought to go see the Trash Heap.
She'd understand.

Marjorie, you'll love it.
It's a great joke.

Now cover your eyes.

-Now what?
-Dark, isn't it?

Oh, "dark, isn't it".

Hello, Madame Trash Heap,
it's Red Fraggle here.

I've got a terrible problem.

What is your problem?

I have this friend.

Her name is Mockey
and everybody likes her,

specially my other friend Gobo.

He loves her poems.

Your friend sounds like
a nice Fraggle.

It's such a good thing
writing poems.

I, myself, always
wanted to write poems.

Let's see, garbage is brown,
compost is gray...

Even the Trash Heap
wants to be like Mockey.

I know how she feels.

Garbage is brown,
compost is gray...

Ah, yes!

Junk is foul
and so are they.

Marjorie, that was beautiful.

We've never been immortalized before.

Nothing like a good poem.

Now, what was it
that little Fraggle wanted?

Now. Let's see.

Hair down like Mockey's,

a sweater like Mockey's

and the final step,

the voice.

-Trouble.
-Let's go.

Red, look.

I've got this book,
all about disease.

This is great because
now I can find out

what's wrong with me
before I get sick.

Right here on this page
it tells you all about—

What has happened to your hair?

Knock it off!

I mean, what did you say,
little Boober?

Funny hair,
weird voice...

These could be symptoms.

But I'm not sick, Boobey-kins.

These could be contagious symptoms.

Just relax, Red.

We'll have you back
to your own self in no time.

But I don't want to be
my own self,

I want to be Mockey.

Every one at the party
will know it's you right away.

Look!

How about something like this?

If I didn't know any better
I'd think you were a real ghost.

Or a pile of laundry.

But if you go as laundry
what would I go as?

Bleach? Clothes pin?

Forget it, Sprocket,
you think of something else.

Just as I thought.
Red has a disease.

It's called bacterial sulphurosis.

The symptoms are funny hair
and weird voice.

Though rare this agonizing illness
is very contagious.

My hair feels kind of funny.

Nothing's wrong because
my voice isn't weird.

Weird?

La, la, la.

Is it?

It is.

Oh, no! I've got sulphurosis!

Help!

Wait up, Gobo!

Gobo, please, you win!
I can't run anymore.

Then we'll rest.

We can read my uncle
Traveling Matt's postcard.

Wembley, are you alright?

Does your hair hurt?

Listen.

Dear nephew Gobo,

the strangeness of this world
never fails to challenge my resources.

Recently I was walking by a place
that the silly creatures call "a farm".

It was a beautiful day.

I wanted to study
the farm's inhabitants

so I decided to drop in.

I received a touching welcome
from a very distinctive creature ??

and I decided to investigate further.

I put on a disguise.

In all modesty,
it was brilliant.

The farmer was completely fooled.

"Where do you think you're going,
little pig", she said.

It seems my disguise worked too well
so I may stay here longer than I planned.

I wonder if you could
send out for food.

It's always difficult
being something you're not.

Particularly
in the name of science.

Love, your uncle
Traveling Matt.

Gives you something
to think about, huh, Wembley?

This is the worst case of sulphurosis
I've ever seen.

See the beetle sitting on a stone

See the little Thimblebeetle
sitting on a stone

See the beetle
sitting on a stone

See the beetle
sitting on a stone

See the little Thimblebeetle
sitting on a stone

See the little Thimblebeetle
sitting on a stone

See the beetle
sitting on a stone

See the beetle
sitting on a stone

See the nimble, Thimblebeetle
sitting on a pitted, spotted stone

See the nimble, Thimblebeetle
sitting on a pitted, spotted stone

See the beetle
sitting on a stone

See the beetle
sitting on a stone

See the little simple
nimble Thimblebeetle's daughters

doing curtsies like they ought'er
as they sit in sticky spots
upon a pitted, spotted stone

See the little simple
nimble Thimblebeetle's daughters

doing curtsies like they ought'er
as they sit on sticky spots
upon a pitted, spotted stone

See the beetle
sitting on a stone

See the beetle
sitting on a stone

See the little simple
nimble Thimblebeetle's daughters

doing curtsies like they ought'er
as they sit 'n hit n' spit 'n spat 'n flit 'n flatten
flowers on a pitted, spotted stone

See the little simple silly
dimpled pimpled daughters

as they flirt with dirty otters

while they flit 'n flatten spatulas
and ??smack a??, and ??? satin, flatter maddened hatters on a
skitzy kitten stone

See the beetle
sitting on a stone

See the beetle
sitting on a stone

See the beetle
sitting on a stone

See the little Thimblebeetle
sitting on a stone

Something is wrong with Red.

She is doing impersonations.

Yeah, she is doing impersonations.

I think she's acting
really weird.

Crushed rock and stale puddle water.
Could that be the cure?

I think Red's trying to be you.

But why?

We need some stale pebble water.
Wembley, got a bucket?

Not on me.

It all started when she came back
from the Gorg garden.

Do you think the Trash Heap
did something?

I sure hope the Trash Heap
can tell us what's wrong with Red.

Me too.

Gorg's not looking,
let's go.

Dum, dum, dum, dum de die

Catch a frizzy Fraggle and
punch him in the...

Catch another Fraggle and
cook him in a...

Catch another Fraggle and
kick him in the...

Junior

The festival of Gorgs Eve is upon us
and you haven't learned your special vow.

But I need to finish my Fraggle...

Now we'll gather radishes
like Mockey.

Inhale

Inhale

Reach

Exhale

Bend

Fraggle!

...and Mockey sounded like
such a nice Fraggle.

She writes poems.

Poems that everybody likes.

Specially Gobo.

Whoever that is.

So that's it.

We better go find Red
and clear this up.

We never knew
you had it in you.

Boys, I've got everything in me.

No comment.

One more time.

It's as clear as water.
Red is trying to be you.

That's silly.

Not if you're Red.

I should have paid
more attention to her slide.

I didn't realize
it was so important.

I only saw that it was fatal.

Behind the radishes!

Look, I got the Fraggles
in my trap!

I'll get you a nice comfy cage
so don't go away.

Oh, no!

Gobo,
what are we gonna do?

Can you guys get out?

I think so
but we need some time.

Right.

Here comes the Gorg.

Hey, Gorgbelly!

-Who said that?
-I did!

I didn't know bushes could talk.

Well, we can.
And you'd better listen.

Okay, Mr. Bush.
I'm listening.

My ears are wide open.

I've been watching you.

Did you see me
catch the Fraggles?

Not now, Gorg.

Listen carefully!

Yes, sir.

Close your eyes!

Okay.

Now what?

Dark, isn't it?

Now that you mention it,
it is very dark.

Is there anything else
you want me to do?

Run!

Okay. Run!

Mr. Bush!
Mr. Bush?

Was that close!

Red, if it hadn't been for you
we would have been finished Fraggles by now.

If it hadn't been for you

we wouldn't have been in that trap
in the first place.

Gobo!

He's right, Mockey.

I was trying to gather radishes
like you.

I was trying to do
everything like you.

Let's face it:
I make a crummy you.

But you make a great bush.

Gee, thanks!

My hair is k*lling me
and my voice is disgusting.

I'm too young to die.

Me too.

Quick, bring me crushed rock.

You know something?
Red is alright.

-Is she really alright?
-You bet she is.

Wembley, there's hope.

Hi, everybody!

You are looking at
good old Red Fraggle,
master of the slide.

And expert bush impersonator.

Are you ready to try
that slide now?

I'm willing to try.

Nice knowing you.

Come on.

Ladies and gentlemen,
the Red-and-Gobo slide.

Wait a minute.

You did it!

That's it, Sprocket,
you've done it!

You look so handsome,
the spitting image of me.

But do you think people will know
who I'm supposed to be?

Let's go to that party.