01x10 - Tonight We Love/The Invaders

[bunniefuu]

Well, here we are, enjoying a

brisk February day at the beach.

Nothing like getting away

from a city feverish with sappy

holiday sentiment, right, Sam?

And Valentine’s Day is no

exception.

All that open caring and

public displays of affection are

just too much for a couple of

manly lugs like us to bear.

I got it!

I got it!

It’s for me!

I left this number!

Hello?

Yeah, uh-huh.

Mm, ah.

We’re on our way.

That was the distinctive cry of

a loon mixed with the turbulent

roar of the open sea.

The Commissioner, huh?

Oof.

He says there’s bad trouble

in Washington, Max.

We’ve got to get to the

Sub-Basement of Solitude pronto.

You mean, we’ve got to go

back there?

We’ll take the back streets.

It’ll be fine.

[Police siren wailing]

♪ Sam and Max

♪ Sam and Max

[Phone ringing]

♪ Sam and Max

♪

♪ Sam and Max

♪ Freelance police

♪ Sam and Max

♪ Freelance police

Back, I say!

Get back, you loopy lovers!

Back!

Speak to me, Geek.

What’s the situation?

It’s not good, Sam.

Our commander-in-chief is in

dire need.

You and Max have been called

upon to deliver this to the

White House.

A party cooler!

What’s in it?

If it’s for the President,

I’d say it’s chalk full of extra

crispy flash-fried foods.

If that’s true, all I can say

is, it’s snack time!

No, Sam!

Don’t!

Well, I’ll be.

It’s a throbbing, living heart.

Hmm, a little underdone for

my liking.

We’re delivering a heart on

Valentine’s Day.

How fitting, how apropos.

Say, Sam, up for a little

handball?

I hear it’s great for the heart.

You guys!

It’s an artificial heart, my

latest invention.

A fake heart?

Even better!

And so in keeping with the

phoney nature of this most

special holiday.

Gotta get this to Washington

in less than 15 minutes, or all

is lost.

Can you do it?

She wants to know if we can

do it, Sam.

If we were forced to depend

on the Concord or even a b*llet

train, I’d say, forget it.

But we have something a wee

bit more reliable.

Hello, old girl.

We missed you.

Step it up, Max.

We’ve got to escort this rubber

ticker from New York to

Washington in record time, or we

can kiss its needy recipient

goodbye.

Yes, let’s hustle before

we’re caught-up in the noon-hour

rush of mawkish husbands jamming

the local flower shops.

They’ll be everywhere!

[Bell tolling]

Too late!

What’s missing from this

picture?

Sam, please tell me that our

beloved DeSoto hasn’t been

stolen.

Please tell me I’ll roust from

this waking nightmare to bask in

its chrome-plated splendour once

more.

Sorry, little pal.

I just haven’t got the heart.

Oh, they got that too?

Our car has been stolen!

It’s gone, Sam!

And I never had a chance to let

her know how I really felt.

Goodbye, old gal.

We’ll never forget you.

Let’s try to keep our heads

here, Max.

Maybe it was towed.

No, I think we nipped that

problem in the bud last time

when we shaved the guy at the

towing yard and his dad.

Or maybe whoever stole it is

still joyriding in the general

vicinity.

There’s only one way to find

out.

Over here, boneheads.

It’s our car!

It’s calling out to us.

Over here, boneheads.

Over here, bone...

It’s dying!

Hurry!

Ah!

[Screaming]

It’s being used as a make out

wagon, Sam.

We’ll have to burn out the

interior.

Later, Max.

First, let’s nab these urban

felons before their tongues bind

up and we have to employ the

jaws of life.

Holding tight, little buddy?

Death lock.

Play that car, Sam.

No, Max, they might spatter

all over the new car mats.

Sorry.

What was I thinking?

Not now, Connie.

I’ve got to shake this tail.

That’s my girl.

[Yelling]

This is an unlikely turn of

events.

Foiled by some oversized

rubber baby buggy bumper.

By my guesstimation, we’ve

got about seven minutes and 30

seconds to repossess our ride

and deliver that plastic pump.

The question is, where would

a lip-locked pair of car thieves

be heading on Valentine’s Day?

It’s couples only here at

Love Land, Max.

As we track down our stolen

auto, these tasteful disguises

will allow us to move freely

about the park.

"Move freely," he says.

In these heels?

You remind me of my Aunt

Trudy, right before they took

away her cutlery.

Step lively there, foxy

momma.

The sooner we find our car and

get out of here, the better.

I couldn’t agree more, Sam.

Never before have I experienced

such whim-whams.

This place is crawling with

slobbering moony-eyed paramours.

Once false step, and we could

topple headlong into some

touchy-feely Valentine’s Day

funnel of love.

Well, what do you know?

The Funnel of Love!

Sam!

Make it stop!

Hold tight, Max!

I mean, sweetie.

Sam!

[Retching]

There you go, little pal.

Let it out.

It was horrible, Sam.

There were twisted bodies

everywhere.

And the screaming.

[Coughing]

You’ve been through a lot,

Max.

I’d ralph too if I saw what you

saw.

Who’s ralphing?

I had to stuff this wig into my

yap to stop the screaming.

Hark!

Are my sensitive dog ears

deceiving me, or am I hearing...

The Geek’s heart.

And our car!

Is it wrong for two unattached

working schmos to express their

love for an automobile in such

a broad and public fashion?

Not as long as we keep one

foot on the ground.

Besides, I think I finally

understand what Valentine’s Day

is all about.

What do you know!

Siamese twins joined at the

lips.

I didn’t know this was your

car when I stole it.

It was just sitting there,

waiting to get stole.

He just wanted to take me to

a nice place and give me this!

Oh, congratulations, you

crazy kids.

It’d be a shame if she said

yes, though.

What with having such a short

time to live and all.

How’s it going, Max?

We’ve only got 14 seconds to

deliver this plastic puppy, or

all is lost.

Fourteen seconds?

No problem.

We’ve got our wheels back.

♪

Hmm.

Sam and Max, Freelance

Police.

Somebody order a heart?

Go!

Gangway!

Heart coming through!

What’s keeping them?

Don’t they know that a young

life is at stake here?

Heart, heart!

Get your fresh heart here.

It doesn’t work!

I failed!

Oh, curse these hands of mine!

[Sobbing]

There she goes.

[Cheering]

Gee, I hate to turn the hose

on this merry moment, but all

this for a fish?

Not just a fish.

The president’s daughter’s fish.

Oh, Lox, you’re all better.

This is the bestest Valentine’s

Day of all.

No, no, child, we mustn’t

handle Lox.

Remember how he got sick in the

first place.

[g*ns c*ck]

My mistake.

On behalf of my family and

myself, I thank you, Sam and

Max.

The White House is a happier

place thanks to your valiant

efforts.

Really.

I think Lox wants to thank

them himself.

Ugh, spare me.

It’s a lousy kissing fish.

I really can’t bear any more

irony today, Sam.

I’m with you, pal.

But show a little respect.

This is the President we’re

talking to here.

Um, whoever owns the

two-toned DeSoto, it’s being

towed.

So much for decorum.

Ah!

Say, you don’t validate, do

you?

[g*nsh*t]

Thank you.

Let’s roll.

Say, kids, who’s ready to

take a slipping and sliding

stroll through the deep, dark

depths of the human body?

Me!

Me!

Lights, please.

Ooh, one of my favourite

organs.

The heart is a fleshy pump

that supplies your entire body

with a life-enhancing sauce.

We can’t show you the sauce

since this is a kids show and

all.

[Bagpipes playing]

Ooh, there’s something I’ll be

having ugly dreams about.

Now, I’d like to introduce an

organ that most folks find

mystifying.

Please welcome the pancreas.

The pancreas?

That thing’s just taking up

valuable internal real estate.

Curse you, useless pancreas!

Hold on there, little buddy.

You’re vastly underestimating

the function of the pancreas.

I mean, looky here!

The pancreas can prevent a stiff

wind from mussing my important

documents.

And check this out!

No more wasted saliva.

Wow, I guess I was all wrong

about the pancreas.

Look, Sam, a colourful doorstop!

Hey, pay attention.

All the food we eat meanders its

way through a hose just like

this.

No!

No, it doesn’t!

Now, watch this startling

depiction of biological

function.

Ooh!

Well, that’s about it.

For some reason, I’ve got a

hankering for sausages.

A-B-C ya!

[Yelling]

What’s the hold up on that

Brad the Impaler file, Max?

You know how antsy the

Commissioner gets when he

doesn’t have up-to-date

paperwork to shred.

There’ll be a slight delay,

Sam.

The loose-leaf sandwich that you

filed last winter has evolved

not only a rudimentary central

nervous system, but a woefully

cranky attitude.

Ah, my skin is off!

I’m gone for.

Here’s your file, Sam.

You sound bored, little

buddy.

I’m guessing the filing cabinet

entity has lost its ability to

engage and entertain.

Yeah, these clerical

all-nighters are such a snore.

If only something truly wicked

would this way come.

[Knocking on door]

I got it, I got it!

Hmm.

[g*ns c*ck]

Nobody there.

Must have been some

ruddy-cheeked street urchins

playing tricks on old Sam again.

Bless their delinquent little

hides.

Whoa!

[Knocking]

Now, see here, kiddies!

Who ordered baked potatoes?

Look closer, Max.

Call me loopy, but I think

these bulky little spuds

are in fact otherworldly

visitors from beyond.

It’s been so long since we’ve

had visitors.

I’ll put out the good china.

Please accept these free

samples of earth’s bounties as

a token of our tacky goodwill.

[g*ns c*ck]

Look, Sam!

They’re returning the gesture.

Too bad.

I’ve already got a pimple g*n.

These glossy little space

goobers seem to have a low

tolerance for kitsch.

Obviously not intelligent

life forms.

Let’s not be so hasty, Max.

This is a delicate first-contact

situation with an entirely new

life form.

It requires a more sensitive

form of communication.

Check.

Expertly handled.

I was hoping for a little

more hang time on mine.

Looks like we’ll have to

amend the report to include a

close encounter with some ornery

stumpies.

That’s tech talk for

"height-deficient ETs".

All that physical exertion

has caused me to work up a

froth.

I’m going to go catch a vertical

squirt bath.

That’s tech talk for "shower".

[g*ns c*ck]

I think I’ll just close this

window for no good reason.

♪ Oh, foolish space guys

♪ We kicked your butt

♪ To mess with Earth men

you must be nuts ♪

Where’s that towel?

[Flushing]

[Screaming]

I’m just adding a brief

footnote to our report,

describing our heroics, Max.

How many "A"s are there in

"flagrant"?

Sorry, Sam.

I couldn’t hear a word you said,

what with the shower going and

all that ominous rattling at the

door.

Will the criminal element

never tire of invading our inner

sanctum?

Gee, I hope not.

Oh, boy!

Looks like we have a secret

admirer.

Maybe it’s a willowy goddess

with a stalker-like infatuation

for freelance law men.

[Crying]

Hey, it’s the crinkly wee

envoys from space.

Foolish aliens.

Your puny weapons are no match

for our superior attitude.

The pain is almost euphoric,

Sam.

It’s like falling asleep in a

tanning booth.

Whoa!

Offhand, I’d say we’re dealing

with a couple of tough little

pugs with orders to take over

this island earth by

obliterating mankind two by two.

Look, Sam, they’re trying to

seal us in.

Isn’t that cute?

They’re like a pair of shiny

industrious doorknobs.

Yup, just as I thought.

These spry little beggars intend

on engaging us in a

close-quartered death match.

Beats doing paperwork.

Well, better get cracking, I

guess.

Watch this, Max, you’ll like it.

Can this be of any use, Sam?

It’s my old fully-functional h*

scale nuclear reactor.

It sure gave model railroading a

welcome touch of urban peril.

Give me a hand, pumpkinhead.

We’ve got to make this

radioactive rat trap look a tad

more inviting.

Ooh, paste.

Dance contest.

Come on in!

No cover for ladies and tiny

space-dwellers tonight only.

Now, remember, kids, never,

ever place foil-wrapped invaders

inside a functioning nuclear

reactor.

Unless you really, really

want to.

Poke a fork in them, Max.

I’d say they’re done.

Shall we sell the TV rights

to the autopsy?

Ah!

Theirs or ours?

Boy, they’re really on there.

This would be a good time to

scream and stumble about in an

overt display of blind terror.

Okay.

[Screaming]

[Wheezing]

[Screaming]

I knew that old sandwich

would come in handy some day.

After all, why waste food

when food could waste unwanted

guests?

[Yelling]

Nice work, Max.

The interstellar invasion has

been officially quashed.

[g*ns powering up]

Um, I hope for our sake it’s

the mould creature wielding that

flaming torch.

Conventional methods have

failed us, Max.

We’re down to our last few

evasive measures.

You’re certain?

We have no other choice?

None.

Prepare to resort to over-paced

sight gags and hijinx a plenty.

Is Tierra del Fuego far

enough?

Try Bora Bora.

It’s easier to spell.

Whoa!

Resilient little pustules,

aren’t they?

Makes you feel kind of

insignificant, doesn’t it, Max?

I always feel that way about

you, Sam.

[Honking]

[c*ck g*ns]

Ah!

I don’t know about you, but

these glossy finger puppets are

starting to get on my nerves.

Perhaps if we took a short

walk, they’d be gone when we got

back.

♪

[Screaming]

[c*ck g*ns]

Well, hello, there.

It’s becoming painfully clear

that we’re up against a pair of

indestructible metal maggots who

will stop at nothing to ensure

that we come to a slow and

tortuous end!

And I was griping about being

bored.

[Knocking on door]

Oh, please.

If I know my running gags,

those Mylar-garbed mites should

be waiting for us on the other

side.

[c*ck g*ns]

[Screaming]

Comedy can be so cruel.

[Sniffing]

I smelled baked ham.

♪

Mission accomplished.

It’s quality time.

Thanks.

That’s nice.

[c*ck g*ns]

Our comfy chairs!

This has really gone too far,

Sam.

You said it, Max.

They forced us to stoop to a

level of senseless retaliation

that even we have never dared

approach.

Promises, promises.

I kid you not, Max!

I love it when you said, "I

kid you not, Max."

I mean, Sam.

Next time, longer fuse.

They’ve won.

We’ve been beaten, little pal.

Bested by a pair of

anti-social carnival prizes.

How humiliating.

Could this be the end for Sam

and Max, Freelance Police?

[c*ck g*ns]

GEEK: Nice!

Excellent work, guys.

That was fun!

Your virtual combat training

module is the ultimate

videogame, Geek.

The simulated 3-D carnage

makes me tingle like a prom

queen.

Yeah, the boys at NASA seem

to like it.

I designed this virtual

simulator so that space cadets

could safely practice tactical

manoeuvres against potentially

hostile life forms.

And what could be more

potentially hostile than me and

Max?

We have creamed the enemy,

and it was us.

I just hope the kids at home

weren’t emotionally scarred from

witnessing what appeared to be

our horrifyingly graphic demise.

Me too.

We’ll need their keisters parked

at the tube in time for our next

episode.

Oh, you old softie.

[g*ns c*ck]

♪