02x17 - The Delivery

[bunniefuu]

Last time on Dilbert!

I've programmed this
to find any trace of life,

gather samples,

and return directly
to me when it's done.

Not yet!

The unfertilized eggs
are ready for implanting

in the surrogate hillbilly.

It's artificial
nano-machine DNA.

When do you expect it to return?

The only thing I know for sure

is that it will
return in the end.

In a word, he's... pregnant.

Knocked up?

You'll tell him when
he wakes up, won't you?

Maybe in the third trimester.

Your new health
maintenance organization

will be somewhat less
robust than the old one.

How much less?

They operate out of
an Italian restaurant.

I need to see a doctor,

or at least a
waiter, right away.

Don't move.

I will make a sound wave,

and Juan will create a picture
from the sonic signature.

What's in there?!

Sweet mother of God!

Don't you think you're
overreacting a little?

Gaah!

And now for our
opening title sequence!

Everyone, sing along!

Are you telling me
this is what's inside me?

Oh...

The ultrasound never lies.

That's not ultrasound!

Your busboy drew this sketch

while you made booping
sounds at my stomach.

If you are not satisfied,
I can take it off your bill.

Let me speak with the manager.

I'm sorry, but I don't believe
my baby is a bowl of fruit.

And a carefully
draped tablecloth.

I want a second opinion.

How about a seascape

with light coming
through a wave?

Very beautiful.

I demand to see
an actual doctor!

Your health plan
doesn't cover that,

but I can offer you
fresh ground pepper

warmed to body
temperature under my arm.

Great. I have an
unidentified baby in me,

and my health care plan
doesn't include health care.

Maybe you should sell
your story to the tabloids.

I could never stoop so low.

Here's a woman who
gave birth to 25 babies,

each one the size of a peanut.

They gave her a million dollars.

And a cigar box
to use as a nursery.

I don't need their money.

I still have a job.

I have savings.

For now.

So I understand I'm
gonna be an uncle.

Unless it's a girl,
then I'll be an aunt.

Shouldn't you be swimming
in the sewer or something?

I'm taking a shortcut.

So you're basically
a pregnant woman.

I hope you won't treat
me any differently.

Would you mind buying the cake
for Asok's birthday celebration?

I don't mind.

I suddenly enjoy
shopping for pastries,

but back to my point:

I don't want to be
treated any differently.

Perish the thought.

By the way, would
you mind planning

our next off-site staff meeting?

I'll do it, but only because
I want it done right.

Well, that's the same
reason Alice always gives.

Sucker!

I think we should talk
about maternity leave.

I ever tell you about the
woman who had 25 babies,

each one the size of a peanut?

I fired her before
she delivered.

You can't fire someone
for being pregnant.

That's against the law.

It was strictly for
safety reasons.

I was afraid she'd go into labor

and start spraying those
babies like a Tommy g*n.

Someone could have lost an eye.

That is discrimination!

Don't get your oversized
panties in a bunch, Dilberta.

You got a good month before
your performance goes all to hell

and I fire you.

If I lose my job, how
will I afford this baby?

You should've thought of that

before you became
a freak of nature.

My work will not be
affected by this pregnancy.

No one here will
even know about it

unless you tell them.

I'll try to hold it in.

It's like holding in a sneeze.

I'm gonna break a rib.

Can I tell one person? Just one?

Well, if it hurts that bad,

I guess one person
would be okay.

What?

Dilbert's having a baby?!

Did you see the new coffee mugs?

The skywriters spelled
your name wrong,

but everyone knew
what they meant.

If you give birth to a
hideous alien creature,

would you name it Wally?

Why do you want a hideous
creature named after you?

Some day, I want to turn
on the news and hear,

"Wally destroys a small
town, National Guard helpless."

If it's a girl monster,
name it Alice.

It's not a monster.

It's either an alien
or a cow or a robot

or a hillbilly or an engineer.

Any one of those
could destroy a town.

Not the cow.

If the cow was
part alien, it could.

Well, maybe if it shot
fire out of its nostrils.

Stop talking about
my baby that way.

Please, leave me alone.

All right.

I have to go plan the
off-site meeting anyway.

Um... actually, our
pointy-haired boss

asked me to do it this year.

You're horning in on my turf?

Catfight.

My money's on the pink one.

We're not going to fight.

We're going to collaborate

and support each
other like sisters

in this bastion of testosterone.

Yes, that's right.

We are.

Nice dress, Dilbert.

I love what you're doing
with your hair, Alice.

Witch.

tr*mp.

Are you telling me

the company has no
maternity leave program?

Well, we believe
that maternity benefits

encourage unwed
fathers to get pregnant.

That is ridiculous!

Oh-h*-h*, is it?

People die of old age

so they can collect
life insurance.

Explain that.

That's your argument?

That doesn't even make sense.

Hmm.

Mm-hmm.

I'd offer you some,
but I'm selfish.

No wonder you're loopy.

That stuff will rot your brain.

Oh...

You know, Dilbert,
as much as I love

solving employee problems...

I like making this
noise even better.

Wow, man!

That is some... thank you.

So you're saying I'll
receive no maternity benefits.

Mm-hm. Excuse me while I
run back and forth for no reason.

Aah!

I'll tell you what.

If you can squeeze
out the little mutant

during your coffee break,

I won't dock your pay.

I like my chances.

So, what's your story?

Listen up.

I need someone to play

an angry quadrasexual
for a 2:00 taping.

You, report to Studio Triple-F.

Okay, I need cousins
who plan to marry.

Studio C.

And lastly, huge men
who look like women

and date tiny women
who look like men

but are used as handbags.

That's all for today.

Uh, excuse me.

I'm having a baby.

The hospital's one street over.

No, I mean, it would be
a good topic for a show.

People have babies all the time.

What's your hook?

I'm a man.

That's not enough.
What else you got?

Uh... the baby might be an alien

or a robot or a cow or
a hillbilly or an engineer.

Dime a dozen.

Do your friends think
you dress too sexy?

Uh... no one has mentioned it.

If your mother steals
your boyfriend, call me.

Can you help me publish

a book about my pregnancy?

I need the money.

Are you willing to wear
a hidden microphone

and incriminate your friends?

My only friend is Dogbert.

Dogbert is your friend?

Why didn't you say so?

You know him?

We worked together

during the Watergate scandal

when his code name
was Deep Throat.

Don't tell him I mentioned that.

About my book?

I'll help you, but first
we need to stir the pot.

"Stir the pot"?

What you have is a little story.

We need to whip
it into a big story.

How do we do that?

Follow me.

We'd like to see Mr. Big.

He doesn't take visitors.

We're friends of Dogbert.

Go right in.

How much news can you afford?

We want a standard seed story.

You get 10% of the back end.

Sounds fair.

What's a seed story?

I apologize for him.

He was raised in a hollow tree.

A seed story is
one that will grow

into a media frenzy
once it has been planted.

Then the media frenzy
replaces the original story

and becomes the bigger story.

That's how we
manufacture the news.

But my story is real.

I'm a pregnant man
who doesn't know

who the genetic
mother and father are.

That's news.

No, that's just a
fascinating fact.

It isn't news
until we say it is.

Shall we stir the pot?

Now back to you... Insert
name... in the studio.

Clear.

We have a pregnant man,
genetic parents unknown.

I want total saturation.

Let's do it up right.

Tonight on Primeline.

The case of the pregnant man.

Who are the real
genetic parents?

Aliens? Hillbillies?

Robots? Cows or engineers?

Tonight, we take you
to meet this curious man

in a story we call:

A Womb With A Stew.

And you've heard about this guy?

Well, he's sort of a guy

and he's reportedly
a surrogate mother

for an alien-hillbilly,
robot-engineer-cow baby.

What? Wow!

Michael Jackson already has
an order in for three of them.

Part cow, part engineer.

Do you think it'll
spend a lot of nights

surfing the Internet
and milking itself?

Hey, there he is.

Leave us alone. Leave us alone!

How's that?

Very convincing.

Who is Dilbert,

and how will neighbors
take to an alien in their midst?

Americans are asking...

What's going on?

Just have a seat.

And put this on.

Alien's daddy. Dilbert,
can an alien baby...

But he's already
asking the questions.

This is how it's done.

They'll get your side later.

This brings up the
obvious question:

What are your feelings
about the upcoming

landmark custody
battle over your unborn?

Custody battle?

There's no custody battle.

There will be tomorrow.

Join us tomorrow on Primeline

when we begin
gavel-to-gavel coverage

of the fetus custody
battle of the century

in a story we call:

It's A Womb-derful Strife.

I'm already casting the
miniseries in my head.

I don't know if you
can hear me in there.

Studies have been inconclusive.

Unfortunately,

you're the only one I
can talk to right now.

Don't take this the wrong way,

but I don't mind losing
the custody battle.

I'm not exactly
qualified to be a parent.

I'm more than
happy to let you go

to a better home
with real parents,

but if custody is awarded
to the wrong people...

And there are plenty of those...

I'll protect you

with everything
I've got, little guy.

If you agree, kick twice.

If you disagree, kick just once.

Ooh!

Ooh!

If you at home
would like to vote

on who you would prefer

to be awarded custody
of the mystery fetus,

call 900-555-1234.

Each call is $4.00.

Proceeds will be
donated to someone,

but don't ask to see a receipt.

I hope this doesn't
become undignified.

Please rise for the honorable...

Judge "Stone Cold" Steve Austin!

Since when did Stone
Cold become a judge?

Both sides waived their
rights to an actual judge.

We did?

He's very big with
the teen demographic.

We'll get pickup
on all the networks.

What about justice?

It didn't do well with
the focus groups.

Great.

Austin 3:16 says,
"Order in the court."

Let's have opening
arguments in the custody case

of "Dilbert versus the
aliens, robots, cows, hillbillies,

a billionaire and 17 engineers."

Your Honor, my
clients demand custody

of the baby in Dilbert's womb

or stomach or upper colon.

Wherever it is.

They believe they can give it

a more wholesome family life.

They want to raise
the child together?

They make a very
effective family unit.

For one thing,

he'll never want for milk,

and you've got
your alien technology

for fighting diseases.

You've got your
billionaire's resources,

your robots for domestic chores,

and your hillbillies
for... for... uh...

If you've got a
woodchucks problem,

we'll k*ll 'em and cook 'em.

Exactly, and 17
engineers to explain things,

no matter how much you
insist you don't need to know.

If I may elaborate on that...

You make a strong case,

so let's begin the
character assassination.

Is it true you annihilated
the planet of Nepular Five,

a world inhabited
entirely by teddy bears?

Sometimes, in a meeting,

Dilbert will pick
up Asok, our intern,

and just shake the
bejesus out of him.

So you admit that you chew cud.

All I'm saying is

that when we collect money
to buy someone a birthday card,

it always comes back lighter
after Dilbert has the envelope.

I've heard enough.

I'm prepared to award
custody to the freaks.

Wait. I haven't had a chance
to speak on my own behalf.

We have two more
minutes, Stone Cold.

You've got two minutes.

I'll put plan B into motion.

At first, I felt I was
nothing more than luggage

for the fetus inside me,

but over time

I've developed
feelings for this baby.

I didn't understand
them at first,

but now I know

they are feelings
of motherly love.

Ow!

My only goal is to do
what's best for this baby.

Maybe that means I
don't raise it myself,

but I will never, ever
turn my baby over to them.

They don't care about this baby.

They each have their
own selfish motives.

Whatever you decide,
Judge Stone Cold,

please use your
wisdom and compassion

in making your decision.

Thank you.

You want compassion,
take your a*s to church.

Custody is awarded
to the freaks,

and that's the bottom line

because Stone Cold said so.

No!

Never!

Aaaah!

Ooh.

Ah, oh, boy!

Ah, breathe, ah, ah, ah!

It's coming!

I'm nine months early!

Are we there yet?

There it is.

I think my water's gonna break.

Oh!

There's a lot in there!

We're ready.

Ooh!

Ah.

Hurry!

If this works, you'll
be safe and loved.

Wait!

I'll give you a billion
dollars for the baby.

That's billion with a B?

No!

Oh, my.

Where did you send it, Dilbert?

Think of it as a student
exchange program, Mom.

Did it look like you?

In a lot of ways, it did.

Ever since we sent
our only child away

when we thought our
planet was to be destroyed,

we have been so lonely.

Who knew our planet
would survive the cataclysm?

The weather reports
are never accurate.

Hmm.

I wonder if that's the
package from Dogbert.