02x07 - Forbidden Pumbaa/Washington Applesauce

[bunniefuu]

Hakuna matata.

What a wonderful phrase.

Hakuna matata!

♪ Ain't no passin' craze ♪

♪ it means no worries ♪

♪ for the rest of your days ♪

♪ it's our problem-free ♪

♪ philosophy ♪

♪ hakuna matata ♪

Yeah!

Hakuna! Matata!

Timon & Pumbaa!

Hakuna! Matata!

♪ It means no worries ♪

♪ for the rest of your days ♪

♪ it's our problem-free ♪

♪ philosophy ♪

♪ hakuna matata ♪

♪ Timon and Pumbaa ♪

"Captain oinker's pig farm.

Home of Mr. Pig"?

Mr. Pig?

Hey, isn't that you, Pumbaa?

I think so.

I mean, uh, that's
what they call me.

Huh?

Ahem.

We are Mr. Pig.

What, all of you?

He means the royal "we."

Oh. Pleased to
meet you, Mr. Pig.

We are royally Timon an Pumbaa.

I'm a Mr. Pig, too.

No, you're not.

We are the only
Mr. Pig in the world.

You are nobody.

You can't talk to
my pal like that.

I can, but not you.

Where's it written

that you're the only
Mr. Pig in the world? Huh?

What makes you
so high and mighty?

"Mr. Pig is so high and mighty

because for the last 25 years

he's won the Mr. Pig contest."

Oh.

Contest?

The Mr. Pig contest
is about to begin.

Who will win the right
to call hisself Mr. Pig?



the magniforous

and wonderfully
fragrant Mr. Pig,

or that goofball?

Goofball?

The firstest round
in the contest

is the death-defying dive

into this particular
mud down here

from that perch up there.

Okay, now, after you launch,

go into a double backward
gainer twist, and then...

I know how to dive
into mud, Timon.

Oh, phooey!

The next competition
is the battle of the oinks

to determine who
is the bestest oinker.

Challenger oinks first.

Okay, now, remember,
oink from your diaphragm.

Reach down into your soul

and oink with the
passion of ages.

I know how to oink, Timon.

Oink!

Ooooiiiinnnnnkkkk!

Next, we will test each
contestant's stankiness quotient,

as determined by their
ability to break wind.

I know how to... did
I say anything? No.

Go already.

Oh, I'm a loser, Timon.

Vanquished, defeated, a failure,

a sad sack, a schlemiel.

I am loser, hear me weep.

Ah, come on, pal.

You still got the
pigtathlon tomorrow,

and it's worth five points.

Win that, and you win
the whole ball of wax.

I can't win, Timon.

This guy outpigs
me at every turn.

I guess I'm just not
really a Mr. Pig after all.

I wish we'd never
come to this place.

Now I'm honor bound
to see this through,

even though I know
I'm going to lose.

I'll never be able
to call myself

Mr. Pig ever again.

Oh, Pumbaa.

Don't touch me!

And now, we've reached
the final leg of the contest.

Or to be more
precise, the final foot.

Or to be even more preciser,

the final toes.

Toe number one. This
little piggy went to market.

A simple foot race
to the farmer's market.

Are the contestants ready?

Ready.

Pumbaa, I had a brainstorm.

Not now, Timon.

I'm just about to try my
hardest and lose pitifully.

But I know a surefire
way to win... cheat.

Timon, I'm shocked at you.

On your marks.

Go!

Cheating is wrong,

cheaters never prosper,

and I refuse to cheat!

Okay, okay, you won't cheat.

You won't cheat.
Get goin' already.

Go! Go!

Promise?

Promise. Promise.
No cheating will you do.

Now go!

Of course, I can still cheat.

Toe number two. This
little piggy stayed home.

Mr. Pig speaking.

Congratulations!

You've won an all-expense
paid trip to pago pago.

Pago pago? Whoo-haw!

This little piggy
had roast beef.

And this little piggy had none.

Aah!

And this little piggy cried wee,
wee, wee, all the way home.

Wee, wee, wee, wee.

Wee, wee, wee, wee.
Wee, wee, wee, wee.

Wee, wee, wee, wee.
Wee, wee, wee, wee.

Wee, wee, wee, wee.
Wee, wee, wee, wee...

Wee, wee, wee, wee.

Ow!

Ow!

Ow!

- Ow!
- Wee, wee, wee, wee.

Wee, wee, wee, wee.

Wee, wee, wee, wee,
wee, wee, wee, wee.

See, told you cheatin'
was a surefire way to win.

- What?
- I cheated, you won.

Ow! Ohh! Hey!

Timon, I told you I
didn't want to cheat!

I'd rather lose than
win by ch-ch-cheating.

Pumbaa, keep it down, will ya?

Correct me if I'm wrong,

but did we hear
the word... cheat?

Yes, you did.

My friend cheated
to make me win.

I cannot honorably accept
the crown of the hog.

You... you are the real Mr. Pig.

Hmm. You're not
gettin' off that easy.

Sick 'em, rooster.

The contest rules clearly state

that if the friend
of a contestant

cheats on behalf of the friend,

said contestant's cheater friend

must be punished.

Punished?

You must either, a: Take your
cheatin', rat-thingy pal with ya

and never, ever
return to this place,

leave the rat-thingy
here with us

to be our prisoner forever.

Whew! Well, easy choice there.

Come on, Pumbaa, let's amscray.

Hmm?

What hmm? There's
nothing to hmm about!

Stop hmm-ing!

You can't leave me here with
these savage domesticated animals.

You need me!

You can't be Timon
and Pumbaa by yourself.

You'd be the lion king's
Pumbaa and Pumbaa.

I kind of like the
sound of that.

Oh, I get what you're
doing, Mr. Clever.

Okay, okay.

I promise that I'll never ever,
ever, ever cheat again ever.

Cross my heart, poke my ribs,

see my lips, they tell no fibs.

Okay, Timon, that's
good enough for me.

Eew!

Whoo-hoo!

Whoo-hoo!

c*ck?

There are
c*ck in my hotel.

Filthy, disgusting,
putrid c*ck.

Send someone right away.

c*ck-a-roaches?

No problem.

Perhaps, if you've done a good job
and if you've kept the place spotless,

maybe I'll let you
eat the little bugs.

Ooh, yes.

Yay!

Okay. Do not worry.

We will not eat the roaches

unless you give the a-okay.

What a mook.

When we find them,
we're eating them.

We better be careful
not to mess anything up

in the clean man's hotel, Timon.

Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Come on.

Set your snifter
for c*ck-a-roach

and kick it into high gear.

They've been here, Timon.

Thank you, Mr. Observant.

Pumbaa?

Yaaah!

Pumbaa?

Pumbaa?

My nose is on fire!

Aaah!

Yeowww!

Yaaah!

Ooh!

Ahhh!

Grrrr!

- Hiya!
- Hello!

Grrrr!

Whoa!

Yieeee! Whoa-ohh!

The fires of hate
compressed within the heart

burn fiercer

and will break at last in flame.

Wow.

Neek, neek!

Yaaah! Aaah!

These c*ck
are very clever, Timon.

Well, we'll have to just be even
more cleverer and cleverly outwit them

in a super clever, cleverer way.

Sounds good to me.

Yike!

That sure was a super clever way

to cleverly outwit them, Timon.

Yeah. I'd like to see them

c*ck-a-roach their
way out of this one.

Ooph! Ohh!

Yeow! Yiee!

Yike! Whug!

Oww! Ohh!

Yeggh! Naff!

Ouch! Yeek!

C-rud!

Oh, they're cleverer
than we thought, Timon.

Hello.

Haven't you got
those filthy, disgusting,

putrid roaches yet?

Uh... uh, yeah,

we... we pretty much
got that tied up...

Uh, wrapped up.

The hotel?

Oh, the hotel is, uh...

It's, uh... it's...

It's... spotless. Heh.

Ooh, great.

I'll be right there.

Oy. There's one
fire extinguished,

metaphorically speaking.

Uh, what's a metaphor?

"What's a metaphor"?

For cows to graze in!

Ha ha ha!

Ha ha ha!

The classics never die.

Fire!

We gotta go now.
Playtime's over.

Untie the rope things.
Come on, please!

- Uh-uh.
- Uh-uh.

Only a lucky stroke of fate

can save us now, Timon.

Not gonna happen.

You can forget about that
five bucks you owe me.

Yay! Lucky stroke of fate.

We're alive!

You owe me that
five bucks again.

Hmm?

Gotcha!

Dinnertime.

Yike!

What's with you?

You heard the clean man, Timon.

We only get to eat those roaches

if we did a good job,

e.g., keep the place
absolutely spotless.

And your point is?

This isn't spotless, Timon,

and the clean man

is already on his way back.

Crud.

Voila!

The roaches.

And voila numero dos.

Your hotel, just as you left it,

spotless.

Ooh! Wonderful.

Yes, magnificent.

Perfect. Ooh, yes!

Ta-da!

- Yike.
- Yike.

Yieeee!

Heh.

Oopsy.

c*ck-a-roaches...

Mmm!