07x19 - Quailman's Bad Hair Day

[bunniefuu]

♪ Ba-ba-du-bop boop bop boop ♪

♪ Ba-ba-du-bop boo-doo-bop ♪

♪ Ba-ba-du-bop boo-doo-bop ♪

♪ Ba-ba-du-bop boo-doo-bop ♪

[whistling]

♪ Ba-ba-du-bop boo-doo-bop ♪

♪ Ba-ba-du-bop boo-doo-bop ♪

[chuckling]

[growling]

Hey! Hey! [screams]

[yelps]

[whistling]

[grunting]

Huh? Huh? [screams]

♪ Ba-ba-du-bop Boop bop boop du-bop ♪

[Doug] Dear Journal, the day was here,

one day in the school year

that guaranteed total
and complete humiliation--

School photo day--

and here it was, that time again.

First thing tomorrow
I'd be posing for the picture

that would add one more portrait

to my gallery of horrible hair.

[laughs]

[laughing]

[sighs]

[whistles]

♪ Ba da de bop do bop do de bop ♪

no matter what I try,

my hair always waits until photo day

-to go totally nuts.
-[sighs]

Every year Patti asks me
for my class picture,

and every year I make up some lame excuse

not to give it to her,
so I promised myself

that this year's picture
would be different.

This year I was going to make sure

my hair looked perfect.

I even spent my whole savings

on the best hair-control stuff
$2.87 could buy.

First, a squirt of Macho Mousse
and Caveman Control Gel.

Oh!

Perfect.

Second, the budget model

say-no-to-flippy-hair designer scalp cap.

And third, instead of a pillow,

the amazing hair-raising head hoop.

Finally, just to be safe,

I decided to sleep sitting up.

[alarm buzzing]

Douglas, time for school.

I'm heading down to the recycling center

with Dirtbike, but I left
your breakfast on the table.

[groaning]

[Doug screaming]

I don't believe this!

Bad hair day!

What am I going to tell Patti

if she asks for my picture this year?

I'm running out of excuses.

I bet Quailman would know
how to handle a bad hair day.

[narrator] The dawn
of another peaceful day

in Megalopolis.

The sun is shining,
the birds are chirping,

and citizens everywhere are waking up

to find a pleasant surprise
on their doorsteps--

free shampoo.

"Rosey View." Hmm.

"Guarantees to boost your social life
with twice the bounce

and three times the personality.

Add life to hair
with Rosey View new shampoo."

Wow!

Indeed, who could resist a free product

that promises such results?

But wait, could there
be some sinister purpose

lurking behind these merry soap bubbles?

Could vanity be leading
the citizens of Megalopolis

down a path of doom and destruction?

Is there not one soul among us
able to withstand

this coalition of conceit?

Toss me more of that
free shampoo, will you, Quaildog?

I need to add life to my Quail-like hair.

Apparently not.

[humming]

[squealing]

If a little dab will boost my popularity,

then a big dab ought to make me
positively irresistible.

-[whistling]
-[barking]

Quailman here.

Quailman, it's the mayor.

Megalopolis is in a state
of dire emergency.

Remain calm, sir-- um, ma'am.

Panic is a dish best served cold...

Whatever that means.

Now, what has struck our fair city?

Plague? Famine?
An infestation of fruit bats?

-Worse.
-[Quailman gasps]

Ms. Mayor! Oh, no, your head has exploded.

No, it's simply bad hair,

and I'm not the only victim.

An epidemic of uncontrollable hair

has swept through our fair city.

It won't comb, brush, or untangle.

No one will step foot outside their home

because of bad hair.

I won't step foot outside my home
because of this bad hair.

[Ms. Mayor] See what I mean?

The city has virtually shut down.

Even City Hall is deserted,

and it's all because of this evil shampoo.

Wait, Ms. Mayor. Hold that bottle
a little closer while I zoom in.

"S.T.U.A.R.T. Beauty products."

Aha! That makes perfect sense.

Who on earth is S.T.U.A.R.T.?

Not who, what.

S.T.U.A.R.T.--

The Society To Undermine,
Annoy, and Ruthlessly Torment.

I've had previous battles
with these odious scoundrels.

Behind every little annoyance
or irritatingly bad product,

you'll find S.T.U.A.R.T.

Then that explains

why an army of annoying people

wearing S.T.U.A.R.T. uniforms
is surrounding City Hall

as we speak.

They must be planning
to take over the city.

I'm on it, Ms. Mayor.

Never fear, for Quailman's here.

Come, Quaildog, we have a city to rescue.

[barks]

-Huh? [gasps]
-[gasps]

Aah! What?

Aah! Aah!

We can't fight evil looking like this!

[whimpers]

Grab her!

You can't do this to me.

Why not?

Because I'm the mayor of this fair city.

Sorry, you'll have to do better.

Did anyone tell you
you're having a really bad hair day?

I don't really wanna hear this.

The mayor's office is secured.
All is ready for our leader.

Roger that.

And here's number 18.73A!

Oh, boy, when it comes
to your top 10 entrances,

this one makes the list.
What do you think, boys?

-Brilliant.
-Stunning performance!

Aah!

Still very high.

-Looking good.
-No one saw it.

Well, now that we've taken over City Hall,

it's time to start working
on our real plan.

Excuse me now.

I've got to do my diabolical laugh.

Ahem.

[laughing diabolically]

-Huh?
-Huh?

Manufactured by S.T.U.A.R.T.

Grr!

Another of their rotten products.

Megalopolis must not fall

into S.T.U.A.R.T.'s evil hands, Quaildog.

But I can't go out looking like this.

Wait. I have a plan.

Onward and upward to City Hall!

Aah! Oh. Whoa. Oh.

Whoopsie.

But first, let me adjust these eyeholes.

Have you noticed
it's a little hard to see?

-Fly away!
-[yelps]

[crash]

But wait. What's this?

Unbeknownst to our superheroes,
a single shampooed hair,

is embarking on a mission of its own.

Drawn by mysterious forces,

the tainted tendril slithers onward

toward an unknown destiny,

joining thousands of other wild hairs

to form a matted mass of menace which,

for no apparent reason,
divides into three parts.

Soon, tangled tresses
from every drain in Megalopolis

have combined to form a pulsating pustule
of hair gone bad.

[man] Jamming devices now installed
at the TV station, Number 18.73A.

Your infomercial is now on every channel.

Oh, goody, and since everyone in town's

too embarrassed to leave their houses,

they've got nothing to do
all day but watch me selling

our guaranteed-to-be-annoyingly defective

S.T.U.A.R.T. Products.

[Announcer] ladies and gentlemen,
direct from City Hall,

it's the S.T.U.A.R.T. infomercial network.

All S.T.U.A.R.T., all the time.

And here's our host-- number 18.73A.

Okey-dokey. Let's take
a look at our first item.

It's a newfangled paddle ball

with no stretchy rubbery thing
to get in the way.

Oh, wha-- what --

It's on every channel!

Where are all the cartoons?

This really stinks.

Cool. I want one of those.

Quaildog, I'm having a hard time seeing.

You may have to take the lead.

[barks]

-Quailman coming through.
-[woman screaming]

-Sorry.
-[man shouting]

Hmm.

[gasps] Uh-oh, Quaildog,
it's the head of S.T.U.A.R.T.

He's broadcasting
an infomercial to millions.

We've got to stop him.

[barks]

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles offshore,
deep beneath the waves

and seemingly unnoticed by the world,

a million bad hairs are given life

by the unexpected side effect
of the shampoo's secret formula.

Superheroes at 2:00.

No, up there.

Cease your evildoings,
annoying minions of S.T.U.A.R.T.

The good guys are here
in the name of truth,

justice, and the way of the paper bag.

I'll get 'em.

-Aah!
-[crash]

Thanks, Quaildog.

Nice bobbing and darting.

Now to render these opponents
helpless and stupefied

with my Quaileye.

Whoa.

I think I just stupefied myself. Ow!

[groans]

♪ Yo, yo, send your dough ♪

♪ For this boombox radio ♪

♪ Here at S.T.U.A.R.T. ♪

Hey, these things aren't
supposed to fall apart

until we sell them.

Oops. Ahem.

Well, our next item's a real winner.

A 2-for-1 sale going out
to the tip-top bidder--

Those fine feathered foilers
of fun foul deeds--

Quailman and Quaildog,

all wrapped up for immediate delivery.

A wonderful addition
to any security system,

or simply use them
as delightfully decorative lawn ornaments.

How humiliating.

[barks]

Ah, our winning bid comes from...

The alliance of villains
defeated by Quailman.

$29,000 for the dog,

and a buck and a half for the boy.

-[scoffs] Talk about your cheapskates.
-[barking]

Meanwhile, down at the city docks,

something stirs beneath the waves...

something evil.

[screeches]

A gigantic...

[screeches]

...hairball.

[roaring]

The hirsute horror rises from the sea.

[roaring]

Yes, S.T.U.A.R.T. Products,
where the name goes on

instead of the quality
going in to anything we make.

[all gasp]

What, is my hair on crooked?

Aah!

Oh, my, look at that.

A giant hairball is moving
through the city.

Bet we could sell that for a lot of money.
Let's go get it, guys.

-Move it!
-Fast, troopers! Move it!

Come on, boys! Move! Move!

[roaring]

Aah!

Way to go, S.T.U.A.R.T. troopers.

You've got that hairball
right where you want him--

Completely under control!

-[indistinct chattering]
-[screams]

This is humiliating, Quaildog.

The bad guys are out there
fighting the monstrous hairball,

and we're stuck in a bird cage
waiting for someone to change our paper.

[whining]

Look at all the trouble
these bags got us into

just because we were too embarrassed
to let anyone see our bad hair.

Well, I've had it.

We can't let vanity control our lives.

It's time to rip off these bags,

Fly this coop, and save our city.

Fly away!

[gasps] Whoa!

Talk about bad hair.

That is one mean-looking hairball.

Well, Quaildog,

looks like we'll have
to fight side by side

with the brave troops of S.T.U.A.R.T.

[yelling]

Then again,
we've always worked well on our own.

OK, hairball,

your tangled rat's nest
of destruction ends here.

[roars]

My Quaileye will now render you

helpless and stupefied.

I'm, uh, having a little
trouble aiming, Quaildog.

Do you happen to see where its eyes are?

Aah!

Wrapped tight. Can't move.

Pulling us to...

hairy doom.

[roaring]

Quaildog, we've got no time to lose.

Do something.

-Aah!
-[Quaildog howling]

Uh! Lucky these recyclables were here
to save us from the fall.

All right, my canine companion,

now gnaw these loose.

Good. Good. Good.

No! Ow, ow, ow, ow! Stop! That's me!

How will we ever escape
these titan tresses?

Ah, a beauty salon. How convenient.

Come, Quaildog,

We'll make short work of this problem.

Hair spray, hair sheen,

"Lovely Hair"...

Aha! "tangles be gone hair loosener."

Can you reach it, Quaildog?

[barks]

Aah!

Ow, ow, ow, ow! Stop!

That's hair tightener!

Please release me! Let me go!

[sirens blaring]

My fellow Megalopolites,
I may not be your mayor--

though consider me a write-in
for the next election-- Vote for me!

But I'm begging you people,
go fight that big hairy guy.

Do it and I'll end your bad hair day

by greasing every palm
with free cream rinse.

[narrator] The brave citizens
respond as one

to this desperate call to arms.

But the shaggy invader has the power

to create spheres of servitude--

Projectiles which cause hair

to turn against the very body
that gave it life.

Aah!

Thus, the brave citizens,
held c*ptive by their bad hair,

watch helplessly
as their city is annihilated

by a big fuzzy thing.

Their only hope-- Quailman and Quaildog.

[people screaming]

-[whines]
-Aah!

Are you following
the directions, Quaildog,

like lather, rinse, repeat,
or gently massage?

Uh! Quaildog, what are you doing?

[Quaildog] Just as you suggested--
gently massaging.

[laughs] That tickles.

-[barks]
-It worked.

I feel much better about myself now.

Hmm, which gives me an idea
about that hairball.

Find me a wrought-iron fence, Quaildog,

while I go tame this wild hair!

Hello, hairball. I think we both agree

that you're having a bad hair day,

But who isn't? Look at my hair.

-[roars]
-Exactly.

But I can help. Look at this.

[roars]

Don't be alarmed.

It's not as bad as you might think.

See? Your hair is your best feature.

In fact, it's your only feature,
but never mind that.

All you needed was a little styling.

And see, you're not really bad,

just misunderstood--

A good hair day trying to get out.

For a hairball, you look great.

[barks]

Thank you.

And looking great can make you feel good.

Just don't go overboard
worrying about your appearance.

OK.

So, how about freeing the hair

of the good citizens of Megalopolis?

OK.

[narrator] And the happy hairball
recalls his spheres of servitude.

Aah! Ooh.

Wow.

So, all's well that ends well, or is it?

[man] Hair spray copter in place.

[Man 2] Mounted hair spray unit in place.
We're going to turn that hairball

into one gooey glob
of frozen hair follicles

With a blast of aerosol spray.

Aerosol spray-- That does it.
It's no longer a simple matter

of a mad hairball ransacking the city.

Now they're attacking the ozone.

Those scoundrels.
Wait. I've tamed the beast.

We can now all live in harmony. Aah!

Well, so much for living in... harmony.

[roars]

Look what I brung to the shindig.

The only way to get rid
of unwanted hair permanently--

Mount baldy hair remover.

[roars]

[narrator] Quailman and Quaildog
sacrifice their own hair

to save their newfound friend.

-Oh, my.
-[barks]

Ha ha! Never you mind
trying to control my hair,

'cause I got a convertible top.

Huh?

Aah! Talk about a hair-raising chase.

Get me a stylist quick.
I'm telling. Stay away.

Aah!

And so, the giant hairball
drifts out to sea

with a new do and a new business idea--

Hair club for weird
mutant things from the deep.

You know something, Quaildog?

That hair has a nice wave to it.

[whimpers]

Porkchop, I've spent way too much time

worrying about looking great
for the class picture.

So what if my hair
isn't perfect? Whose is?


[Man] OK. Funnie, Doug, you're up.

Say beets.

[Doug] Beets.

[boy] What is with my hair?

[girl] It has to do with wearing
the wrong shoes, you know?

[laughs]

Your hair is haystack, no?

This stinks! I look like a loser!

Ew. I look terrible.

[Doug] Hey, Patti.

Oh, hey, Doug. Did you get your pictures?

Yeah. Um... think I could
have one of yours?

Mm, crummy photo.

I don't know. it's pretty awful.

Let me see.

Oh, I think you look nice...

I mean, in your picture.

Well, you do, too,
but this picture is very --

Thanks, Doug. I get one of yours
this year, don't i?

Mine? Well, you see,
Grandma Funnie has a lot of dings

in her refrigerator door
that she needs to hide,

so I promised her all my--

Oh. Well, OK.

Anyway, got to run. I'll see you later.

Hey, what do you know?
I found an extra picture.

You want it?

Promise not to laugh at my hair, though.

Hey, it's a nice one.

Really? You think so?

[Doug] So, Journal, it's fine
to care about how you look,

but obsessing about it can, well,

make little flaws seem like giant ones.

I don't see anything wrong
with your hair at all.

-You don't?
-No. The spinach in your teeth, though,

now, that's another story.

-[Doug] Huh?
-[Patti laughs]

Just kidding.

[Doug] Oh.

[both laughing]

[scatting]