02x20 - Driven To Extremes

[bunniefuu]

♪ Someone once told me th♪ On the other side. r ♪

♪ Well, I paid a visit ♪

♪ While it's possible I missed it ♪

♪ It seemed different yet exactly the same ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

♪Till further notice♪

♪ Till further notice

♪I'm in between♪

♪ I'm in between

♪From where I'm standing♪

♪ From where I'm standing

♪ My grass is green.

♪ Someone once told me the grass is much greener ♪

♪ On the other side.

[cheers and commotion from classroom]

I'd recognize that sound anywhere.

Either someone just threw up or we're getting...

ALL: A substitute teacher.

Check this out.

Ms. Zorski has the pan-Asiatic flu.

She's going to be okay,

but has to stay at home for a few days.

[class cheering]

Who do you think we'll get?

[boy grunting]

Who am I, who am I?

[imitating alarm buzzer]

Fire! Fire! Emergency!

I'm just a sub, so run for your lives.

CLASS: Mr. Dorfer.

[all laughing]

[imitating buzzer]

Oh, wouldn't it be great if we got him again!

Let's get one thing clear.

As far as substitute teachers go, I'm your worst nightmare.

And if you think it's going to be a party / while I'm here,

think again!

Now, our first order of business

will be to minimize distractions.

[glass shattering]

Everyone, face the wall, pronto!

[girls gasp]

Boy, recess is, like, the best.

Eh, not so sure, Hoods.

Been way too aware of them lately.

Means nothing's going on.

[animal grunting]

BRANDON: But Mr. Licorice,

you have to do the talent part of the competition.

Otherwise, you'll never win "Best Pet."

Heads up.

Things just got interesting.

[squealing]

All right, but only because you're the cutest monkey

in the whole world-- yes, you are.

Did I hear you say something

about "Best Pet," Brando?

I'm entering Mr. Licorice in the pet show.

He's going to win Grand Prize.

Which is...?

Five hundred dollars.

[gagging]

But, um, you're having a little trouble

with the talent portion, you say.

Not me; Mr. Licorice.

I worked out a little act for him.

I play a pippy tune on the piccolo,

and he dances to it in a little sailor outfit.

[Licorice squeals]

But he won't do it.

You're a bad little monkey-- yes, you are.

[blows raspberry]

Well, no wonder.

It's humiliating.

I'll meet that and raise you, Hoods.

Tell you what-- I'll put together a new act for him

in exchange for a small percentage of the profits...

if he wins, of course.

How small?

Oh, I... you know, %-%, industry standard.

That's called "extortion," Carl.

And I call Mr. Licorice

not doing the talent portion of the pet show "losing."

[grunts]

Well...

No passing notes in class.

No drifting off into space.

No hall passes!

No talking!

No smiling, no laughing, no breathing.

[gasping]

No, wait, you can breathe,

but I better not hear you doing it.

Now, I want everyone to get pen and paper ready for a pop quiz.

[clearing throat]

You, with the overactive pharynx--

words on th-century Czechoslovakian poets

on my desk by tomorrow!

For clearing my throat?

Four hundred!

Want to go for ?

Oh, make it an even .

It's the thought that counts.

[laughs viciously]

And what do you suppose

you have planned for tonight, Miss Chuckle-hut.

Let me guess-- a -word essay

on th-century Czechoslovakian poets.

One more rule--

no exchanging distressed looks with your fellow students.

[thunder rumbling]

[boombox playing "Can-Can"; hands clapping]

[music stops]

Carl, why is Stuart Higsby's monkey doing the can-can

in our living room?

Pet show act.

Not working for you?

It's... lame.

Told you!

But look at him-- he loves the stage.

He may love the stage, but he hates that dance.

[grunting]

[squealing]

Groovin' to the Woodwinds.

This is, like, the best CD.

So, what you're saying

is Mr. Licorice needs a different image, a better act,

something edgy, cool,

no old-school costumes or stupid music required.

Just about anything would be better

than a monkey doing the can-can.

Fine.

I welcome a challenge.

Hey, this is my skirt...

Ew!

Which a monkey's been wearing.

[ringing]

Yes.

You're risking your life, you know--

walking in here not early?

Do you think it's safe to talk?

No! What if Grimley has

hidden microphones in here,

and she's trying to catch us off guard?

[chuckles]

Someone's a little paranoid.

I think we all are these days.

Who would have thought

one evil sub could squeeze the life

out of an entire school so quickly?

I broke out in hives

after yesterday's tongue-lashing.

[all exclaiming in disgust]

Well, Sergeant Grimley's made me write so many essays,

I'm becoming the poster girl

for carpal tunnel syndrome.

Well, she's just a sub,

and Ms. Zorski will be back soon.

GRIMLEY: Sorry I'm late, but I was getting some really good news

from Principal Milty.

Ms. Zorski's been quarantined by her doctor.

She'll be out another three weeks,

which means we'll be getting some serious learning done here.

[class groans]

[camera flash pops]

CARL: Uh-uh.

Nope.

No way.

But that's my favorite one.

What kind of act will we get out of him dressed like that?

Interpretive dance.

I hear it's sweeping all the pet shows.

That was last year.

And if it's one thing we ain't, it's last year.

Hello.

What have we got here?

Cool shades, edgy outerwear.

All I got to do is combine them with a catchy gimmick

andvoilà,a winner is born.

[squealing]

[whispering]: It's an emergency.

It better be.

Guilty...

guilty and guilty.

It was an emergency.

Is that so?

"Dear Miranda, your tag is sticking out of your shirt,

"which, by the way, is totally to die for.

You're welcome, Courtney."

Thanks, girlfriend.

You call that an emergency?

A fashionfaux pas emergency-- hello!

Only our entire friendship is at stake.

If I found out my best friend let me walk around

with a stray tag, I'd never speak to her again.

For that violation,

you three girls will write a ,-word essay

on the invention of the cotton gin.

[gasps]: That's inhumane.

I don't even know , words.

Talk about sh**ting the messenger.

Seventeen thousand.

A ,-word essay?

That's it!

It's time to get even.

But I'm a total pacifist.

I know!

Let's give her a white Christmas special--

T.P. her house.

[kids cheer]

Sweet!

Like, isn't vandalizing a teacher's house

still grounds for expulsion?

Change the toilet paper to crepe paper,

and we'd practically be decorating it for the prom.

They don't throw you out for that.

So what's the story?

Are you three goody-goodies in or out?

You guys don't want in on this, do you?

I'm all over it.

I can't believe this is happening,

but my vengeful bloodlust

is overtaking my normally peaceful nature.

But Macie...

So I'm in!

That woman's driven me to the brink, Ginger!

Hello!

Woman-waiting- for-an-answer here.

I guess I'm... outnumbered,

so, uh, I suppose I'll be there, too,

armed and not so dangerous.

[kids cheering]

Juice box?

Uh, fresh or concentrate?

Concentrate.

Pass.

Gentlemen...

That's us.

May I present to you

the new and improved... Mr. Licorice!

Wowee!

Ho, ho, would you look at that?

[motorcycle revving]

[crash]

Shake it off, Little L., shake it off.

How is he supposed to win "Best Pet"

if he keeps falling off the motorcycle?

You can't expect him to be brilliant

his first time out.

Trust me, this is going to wow them.

Mmm, I don't know, Carl,

maybe you're pushing him in the wrong direction.

[screams]

I'm not talking the bike, I mean in general.

The can-can wasn't so bad.

Well, I for one refuse to give up.

[moaning]

You hear that, Mr. Licorice?

You're going to have to try harder.

[growling]

[motorcycle revving]

[crash]

Again!

[moaning]

I can't help it, guys, I feel guilty about it.

Ginger, as far as I'm concerned,

no one in the history of our lives

could possibly deserve this

as much as Grimley does.

[groans]: I guess you're right.

Cleaning up a little toilet paper

does seem pretty tame

compared to the t*rture we've been subjected to.

[giggles]

But it's the egg-pelting

that's really going to make a statement.

Egg pelting?

I thought this was strictly a toilet paper thing.

Not anymore.

Word on the street is Miranda's planning a companion prank.

Someone's going to knock on Grimley's door,

and then we'll blast her with raw eggs!

[giggling]

Is it me, or was I

the only one laughing?

Got to admit, the egg thing

does take it to a new level.

Yeah...

This has just moved way outside my comfort zone.

But Ginger, you're already committed.

To the T.P.-ing, not the egging.

Sorry, guys, I'm un-committing.

Are you sure that's a good idea?

You'd be defying the group--

and you know groups.

They have a way of turning on you when you do that.

Don't remind me.

[Mr. Licorice chattering]

That's good, come on, keep it going.

Work it, work it, work it!

[motorcycle crashes]

Excuse me, I don't remember calling for a break here.

You learn a few more tricks on this baby

and we'll be going home with the whole enchilada.

Attaboy, Mr. Licorice.

Now, that's what I like to see, real initiative.

[motorcycle growls into distance]

Don't come crying to me

when you lose to a tap-dancing ferret!

[Mr. Licorice shrieking]

[loud crash]

MIRANDA: Okay... Applebaum, I got you down for a dozen eggs.

COURTNEY: Here it is, pranksters,

a sample of the toilet paper I'll be supplying.

Courtney, you can't use this.

Why not?

It's quilted.

It has the Gripling coat of arms

stamped on it.

Which makes it a complete identity giveaway.

Ginger, you'll have to bring some.

How many rolls can I put you down for?

Actually, it's supposed to rain tomorrow night, so...

Okay, so T.P.-ing to begin promptly at :,

egging at :.

Okay, look.

I'm here to say for the record

I'm boycotting this whole revenge deal.

[students complaining]

I know I'm in the minority here,

but I think we've taken this too far

and now it's getting out of control.

And just think about it.

How would you like to be assaulted with raw eggs?

No one deserves that, not even Grimley.

[yawns]

All I'm asking is that you reconsider.

[students mumbling]

What about the rest of your peanut gallery?

Are they in or out?

At this point in time,

all I can say is we're Switzerland.

Well, all I can say is

welcome to Loser City, population: three.

And don't even think about squealing to anyone about this.

I can be pretty merciless, you know.

Trust me, girls, she is not kidding.

[sighs]

Well, the worst is over.

Now at least we know where we stand.

Right smack ding-dong-dab in the middle of Loser City.

What do you think, fellow citizens?

Sleep-over at my place tomorrow night?

GINGER: Sure.

Maybe we can even elect a mayor.

Be Best Pet.

Think Best Pet.

Smellit, feel it, own it.

All right, come on now, let's give it another try.

[groaning]

[shrieking]

Mr. Licorice, stop!

[Mr. Licorice shrieking]

You're fired, Carl.

I'm going back to my original idea.

Mr. Licorice, wait!

I saved your little sailor suit!

Oh, did you see that, Hoods?

He totally snapped.

What do you expect?

You drove him to it.

Oh, so now it's my fault

for wanting to win.

Pretty much.

Oh, yeah?

You just wait and see.

He's going to b*mb

at that pet show

and they'll come crawling back,

begging me to train Mr. Licorice for next year.

You know, every time I disagree with you, you totally spaz.

Did you ever notice that, Carl?

Huh?

GINGER: So we took a stand, right?

MACIE:Uh-huh.

I mean, we faced the group, stood our ground.

[nasal spray bottle wheezing]

[stuffily]: Uh-huh.

So, why is it I feel like we didn't?

Okay, if the handle is turned in,

it's a double-scoop hot chocolate,

if it's out it's regular.

Cookies are in the oven, and if it's too cold

my dad will turn up the thermostat.

Look at us.

We didn't take a stand.

Not really.

We're... surrounded by sleeping bags

and warm, comfy drinks.

I mean, if I took a stand, it was a pretty easy one.

Ginger, where are you going?

I think I'm too late to stop the T.P.-ing,

but I still have time to stop the eggs.

I love playing the part of juvenile delinquent.

It's so exhilarating.

[chuckling]

Everyone in position for the egg toss.

I've got the bell.

GINGER: Wait.

BOY: For maximum breakage potential, toss gently,

never hurl.

No, no, I'm not doing this.

Then get out of the way sowe can.

Just listen to me for one minute.

I think what you've done

already more than settles the score.

I mean, how about we just take a few pictures

and call it a night?

Get lost. Out of the way.

[doorbell rings]

Ready?

[laughing cruelly]

Aim...

Fire!

[eggs whooshing, breaking]

What's going on?!

It isn't obvious?

Oh.

"Oh"?

You mean you don't care?

It's happened before.

But Mrs. Grimley, the students hate you.

I learned a long time ago

not to care what students think of me.

I just have to stick it out until my tour of duty is over.

Now, good night.

[thunder rumbling]

She doesn't care.

At all.

Butthey're going to care.

Miranda, Courtney.

You've ruined their prank, Ginger!

Well, you know what?

I don't care!

You know, even with egg dripping off her face,

somehow she makes that line work.

CARL: Why do we have to go?

HOODSEY: To show support.

But Brandon fired me, remember?

How could I forget?

He was so mad, he even drooled a little.

That's like super-mad.

Anyway, we're not going to support him,

we're going to support Mr. Licorice.

Forget it-- I don't owe that monkey anything.

I fact, I'd say he owes me.

After he does that lame-o act,

he's going to wish he'd stuck it out with me.

Oh, so you're just going to sit here like a sore loser, sulking?

Am not!

Are too!

Fine, fine, fine, fine!

But I want you to know the only reason I'm going

is because of that quasi-freak show atmosphere.

Uh, it appeals to my peculiar nature.

So we're going to sit in the front row, right?

[electronic dance music playing]

[smattering of applause]

EMCEE: Thatwas some impressive hoofing.

Okay, animal lovers, our next competitor

in the talent category is... Mr. Licorice.

[Mr. Licorice grunting]

[simple synthesizer music playing]

[playing piccolo]

[groans]

This is painful.

[laughs nervously]

Mr. Licorice, that's your cue.

Boo!

[crowd booing]

Boo!

[gasps]

Wow.

This could get ugly.

Pass the caramel corn.

[eating noisily]

[crowd booing]

Is it something I said?

I mean, you can tell me later.

Just dance!

Please?

[clears throat]

[playing rapid piece flawlessly]

[booing stops]

Check it out, Carl, he's got...

piccolo soul.

Mm-hmm.

[playing jazzy improvisational piece]

Sorry about your losing, Brando.

Frankly, I think the act

was way too sophisticated for the judges.

Yeah, they think pets should just be cute.

And you have a problem with that?

Brandon, I've learned an important lesson here,

and I hope you have, too.

You can lead a monkey to a banana,

but you can't make him peel it,

chew it and spit it out at zoo visitors.

I have no idea what you're talking about.

I would never make a monkey spit at people.

You tried to make him into something he's not.

Itried to make him into something he's not.

All he wanted to do was jam!

Right!

So we got next year's competition to think about.

This is what I was thinking.

CARL: If we were...

What?

I'm only thinking of the monkey.

Well, you can just forget it, Carl.

[playing jazzy tune]

Ah-ah-ah!

No putting things in your mouth

that you picked out of the garbage.

[Mr. Licorice whimpering]

You try to do a guy and his monkey a favor.

Hey, you know, maybe we should find our own pet.

Train him up for next year.

You know, like a guinea pig.

A guinea pig.

Good one, Carl.

No, I mean it.

We could teach it to sh**t pool...

Traitor.

She didn't squeal to Mrs. Grimley.

Honest!

[desk scraping]

I don't recall giving

anyone permission to turn their desks around, Ginger!

Well, I guess someone

wants to write a ,-word essay!

Bring it on.

I have a lot to say.

[class gasps]

Come to think of it, you better make it , words.

Smart thinking.

You can turn it into a novella.

Daddy knows tons of publishers.

Quiet!

Now that I think of it,

I'm going to have all of you writing ,-word essays

because of that stunt you pulled on Saturday night!

Masks or no masks, I know it was you!

Well, that's just fine!

I have a lot to say, too.

[desk scraping]

Well, just wait until Ms. Zorski

hears about this.

GINGER: Ms. Zorski?

Ms. Zorski?

You, Mrs. Grimley, are no Ms. Zorski.

[students exclaim]

And last time I checked, "substitute teacher"

meant a teacher in place of another teacher--

not a personpretending to be a teacher.

Sure I took a stand, only it was the wrong stand.

We deserve to be punished for the T.P.-ing and the egging,

but especially for not standing up to you

from the very beginning.

How many words so far?

Seventy-seven.

You can't demand respect, Grimley, you have to earn it,

and speaking of demands...

[door slams]

BOY [dully]: Fire, fire, emergency.