The We Like to Move It Crew presents:
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Pop quiz, troops.
What can't we trust?
Three-day-old stir fry mung beans.
Right. What else can't we trust?
- Badgers? - What?
Maybe that's just me.
What I'm getting at is sometimes
we can't trust our own eyes.
- What do you see? - Black nothingness.
Perfecto.
Bravissimo.
Go time.
Stand down, man.
Crudely done, but I admire your moxie.
All right. Feel it.
60/40 cotton-poly blend, with a nylon cross string.
Nice.
Turn down the old think melon. Otherwise...
Catch my drift? Listen to your gut.
Sorry.
That's an anatomical impossibility.
What would you do if we actually were under attack?
Guys, guess what?
Considering barometric pressure and the coriolis effect,
a sunrise assault would be the best course of action.
Excuse me.
What in the world are you guys doing?
I might ask you the same question.
Except for the guy part. What are you doing sneaking about?
Who's sneaking? I'm just heading over to welcome our new neighbors.
No one's seen them yet.
Now I figure they're just shy. Wanna come with?
Not without proper recon.
It could be death a thousand times over in that new habitat.
- Venomous vipers, bloodthirsty... - Badgers?
Flying piranha.
Piranha don't fly.
That's exactly what Manfredy and Johnson said back in Ecuador.
We buried what was left of them with a teaspoon.
Right.
I think I'm gonna go ahead and risk it.
But I do appreciate your raving paranoia.
Anytime, Marlene. Anytime.
I would love to join you in the meeting of the neighbors,
but I am far too busy with...
- What am I far too busy with? - Posing for your royal portrait.
I'm an easel.
Shut up a little, okay?
Shouldn't my muscle parts be, you know, bigger?
Pumped a bit more, yes?
What is that hideosity?
That's Mort.
What?
What did I say?
Shut up a little?
Why is Mort in the royal painting?
Paint him out now before my eyes smell him forever.
My eyes are still stinking of you.
Now go with Marlene and think about what you've done.
But I didn't...
I was there, and now I'm here.
New neighbors.
Is it safe?
It's nice. A little humid.
And a lot dark and spooky.
I didn't notice.
You're just letting Skipper's crazy talk get to you.
New neighbors. Welcome to...
- Did you see that? - I see nothing.
Is someone there? Anyone?
Flying piranha?
Look. Footy-prints.
I know these. They're...
You can do it, mate.
Don't think. Just use your instincts.
Right. Instincts.
En garde.
Wait. Which instincts should I use?
Survival instinct?
Homing instinct? Social instinct?
Should have gone with survival.
Help! Help, help, help!
What is with all the screaming craziness?
I am having trouble concentrating
on the beautifical portrait of myself.
The new neighbors, they... they took Mort.
He's gone.
Who's Mort?
My easel. Right.
I too am gasping in horror.
But on the inside. Because, you know, I need that easel.
From the beginning.
Give me every gruesome detail. I can take it.
We felt like something was watching us.
Then he found these weird footprints.
All of a sudden these squishy tentacles just shot down...
Sucked him up, and he's... gone.
Unknown hostiles with tentacles and feet.
Again? If I had a nickel for every time...
- Describe the enemy's terrain. - It was jungly, so that could be...
They could be from where? South America? Africa? Asia? Maybe Australia?
You gotta focus. You just named four of the eight continents.
There are only seven continents.
I count Atlantis. Trust me, lemur.
If you had my security clearance, you would too.
Guys, we have to save Mort.
Perhaps we should open a back-channel negotiation.
I do not think these are the kind of creatures you can reason with.
Don't worry.
Neither are we.
Secret panel.
Look at you. Impressive.
Rooster's in the hen house. Report.
- All clear. - All clear.
Perimeter secure.
- Not cool, dude. - I told you to leave this to us.
- You didn't. - In your mind, maybe.
Movement in sector victor bravo.
Prepare to give this bogey a real New-York welcome.
Coming this way.
Closing in. Six yards, five, four,
it's right on top of us.
Hello, neighbor.
Thank goodness you are here to help my chunky monkey carry me.
I'm big-boned.
You're putting this mission in jeopardy.
- State your business. - Why, of course.
I am here to give the new neighbors
the wondrous portrait of the wondrous king, me.
And to get back my easel.
I mean Mort.
Look. The tracks.
They're fresh. Analysis.
Reptilian in origin.
Hang on. We've seen these tracks back in Madagascar.
King Julien, they must be...
What Maurice was about to say was...
Ambush! Fall back, men.
I'm coming, Private.
Which one do I save?
Think, Kowalski, think.
Now, don't think, man. Act.
Let's go. Rico.
Private's part of the team.
Then again, Marlene has vital information.
Of course, Private does owe me $5.
Curse you, brain!
- Snap out of it. We're under attack. - I know.
I'm not gonna lie to you, boys. This situation is critical.
Get a hold of yourself, soldier.
Well done, Rico. Saddle up and stay low, gents.
I'm on point.
I'm not one for sappy speeches, men,
but the odds are that not all of us are gonna make...
The precise odds are one in...
It's up to us. Just me and...
And me.
I can't see. I can't think clearly.
What do I do? What do I do?
Turn off the old think melon.
Use your instincts.
Right. My gut says to get my friends back.
Time to listen to that gut.
Even though technically a gut cannot vocali...
I'm doing it again.
- Did I win? - Sure.
Symbolically.
Hey, pal. A little help.
It turns out the hostiles are friendlies.
Chameleons.
We were crazy with them back in the Madagascar.
Aren't they the cutest little jelly beans?
I just want to pinch it.
And will you look how they blend?
Wicked brilliant.
Thank you. I'll have Maurice paint you some wallet-sizes.
They're saying they're sorry
about grabbing us up with their tongues and all that.
But it was the only way they could be inviting us all to the party.
Tongues tickle.
- You speak chameleon? - I've dabbled.
And here you listen with your eyes.
- So, it was all for nothing? - Not at all.
You learned to listen to your gut today.
But my gut said the chameleons were killer carnivores.
But you heard your gut. Even if it was dead-wrong,
you stand tall.
My gut rocks.
It's complicated.