♪ MVA ♪ ♪ MVA ♪
♪ Monsters vs. Aliens ♪
♪ It's us vs. them ♪
♪ Foe vs. friend ♪
♪ Brain vs. B.O.B. ♪
♪ It's a super-freaky job ♪
Oh, yeah, it's freaky.
♪ MVA ♪
♪ Monsters vs. Aliens ♪
[cackles]
♪ Monsters vs. Aliens ♪
♪ MVA ♪
1x28 - I Predict Horror
sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ addic7ed.com ~
Behold... the predictacator!
I'm gonna guess... it predicts things?
Precisely. Infused with every conceivable variable imaginable,
the predictacator will make 100% accurate prognostications.
So it could predict, I don't know, what I'm getting for my birthday?
Or who wins the next world series?
Or this week's lottery numbers?!
You see where I'm going with this? Ah cha-ching.
Absolutely. The predictacator will tell us all that and more.
Uh, if... if I can find it.
- Find what? - The predictacator, B.O.B.
It was sitting right here.
Uh, all I saw was a pink donut, which, heh, tasted a little weird.
Was it gluten free or something?
- B.O.B., you just ate... - Breakfast for dinner!
[laughs] Hey, you put a donut in front of me,
and, by golly, I am going to eat it! No apologies. [loud burp]
Did you see that coming?
Did you see it... did you see it coming?
Ten years of painstaking research,
and it ends up dissolving away in B.O.B.'s belly.
You're taking it well.
Baaaah!
Kinda well.
Wow. Dr. C is a really mad scientist now.
Him? What about me? Color me disappointed, B.O.B.
I was going to make a fortune off that thing.
- Aww, Link. - What?
- You're going to hug a tank. - I'm going to hug a wha... uhh!
You okay, buddy?
[whimpering]
That tank hugged you pretty hard.
"Hugging" isn't the word I'd use, B.O.B.
It was... aah! Just like you predicted!
Maybe it was just a coincidence?
No way. It was the real psychic deal.
Come on, buddy. Tell us who wins the next world series.
I see...
Tonight's episode of Senator Chimp, NYPD will be a... repeeeat!
Okay, starting small. We'll build.
So, B.O.B., what am I getting for my birthday?
No, wait! I don't want to know.
Okay, maybe I do. No! Don't tell me!
Tonight's dinner... will be tater casseroooole!
Pfft. I never get what I want.
And tomorrow's lunch will be some kind of curly pastaaa.
Rotini? Fuseli?
Ah, it's hard to say. It's a little fuzzy there.
Ah, I see what's going on here.
B.O.B. can only predict the future for the next 24 hours.
That's all the future he got
before he fully digested the predictacator.
- And what happens after 24 hours? - He goes back to normal B.O.B.
What? Only a day?!
There's got to be a least one pro game B.O.B. can predict.
Miami versus Cleveland.
Canceled on account of... raaaain.
Nooo!
Pete. You will get a phone call tonight!
Don't answer it! It's a telemarketeeer! [shouting]
Coverton! I have a prediction for yooou!
You will enter a secret rooom!
- You predict the future now? - Yeah. Yeah.
Just... just for a day. I mean, daaay.
Here's a prediction:
I see myself scooting away from a brain-free doofuuus.
Ohh, good for Amy!
- She deserves it. - Amy? Who is...
[Monger on PA] Congratulations to Amy Crevino!
You're area 50-something's employee of the month!
Report to me for your free Pita King gift card.
Wait a minute. How did you know that...
Um, don't want to float there, buddy.
What difference does it... Ohh! [growls]
This is an outrage! If there is to be employee of the month,
it shall be Staaa'aaabi!
[growling]
[groans weakly]
You can predict the future!
So, B.O.B., you say you have a prediction for me?
Yes. I see you entering a top secret room.
- Only General Monger goes there. - R-really? Do tell.
It's called the ultimate weapon room?
Ultimate weapon room?
Are you sure?
Shyeah. I think I know how to read.
Uh, the future.
Yes, yes, you do. Uh, what do you see after that?
Out with it, man! Come on.
I see you wearing a golden crooown!
Ooh hoo hoo. Like a king?
I see people bowing before yooou!
[squeals] I'll be royalty.
And then... much pain and suffering!
Yes! There will be pain and suffering for all my subjects.
- Anyhoo, that's all I got. - More than enough.
Let's go get that ultimate weapon.
Tater casserole. Just as B.O.B. predicted.
I don't get what's the big deal.
Just make another predictacator. We'll get rich!
Perhaps this all happened for a reason.
Maybe there are some things man is not meant to know.
Man, yes. But what about fish-man, I ask you?
He's tough, greedy... I mean gritty. Come on, Doc!
Link, knowing ruins the surprise of living...
Just like Susan's birthday conundrum.
Okay, you brought it up, so I'm just gonna say it:
I want a sparkly, impractical birthday gift.
Like... like a bedazzled cupcake or something.
Not a video game that you actually want!
You said you liked Max Mayhem 8: Ultimate Mayhem.
And not a box of cotton swabs.
It was a practical gift! You have an ear wax issue...
especially when you're Ginormica.
Uh... I have to go clean... something.
- Your ears? - Whatever!
Then I see us turning a corner,
and you squealing in a high-pitched, embarrassing kind of way.
Squealing? That's hardly my...
[squeals]
- Told ya. - U.W.R.
Those initials must stand for "ultimate weapon room"!
Whoa, whoa. Wait, buddy!
That hallway is loaded with secret booby traps!
Of course. Monger wouldn't leave the ultimate weapon
where any Tom, Dick, or Klangnarg could just walk away with it.
[chuckles]
Oh, all-seeing B.O.B...
Do you suppose you could predict the traps for me?
- I totally see me doing that! - Excellent. [chuckles]
Make way for King Coverton the First, ruler of the planet Earth!
Which I may rename "Covertown."
- Coverton? - No, Covertown.
- "Covertoid." - Covertown.
- "Owverton." - You know what? Never mind.
- "Cow versus Tongs." - I said never mind, B.O.B.!
Let's just get this coronation started.
- Now, you'll warn me before I... - Freeze!
[shuddering]
"Ray" is the next word I was going to say.
A freeze ray is going to hit you. Curse my dramatic...
pauses!
[groaning]
Yes. Curse them.
[grunts]
Perhaps I wasn't clear, B.O.B.
I need you to tell me about the traps,
all the traps, before they happen.
- Got it? - Got it!
Well, you got the freeze ray... you saw that one.
Then the floor drops out.
Then, it's just me, but I would not inhale
that blast of knock-out gas.
- And that's it? - Pretty much.
Excellent. Let's begin.
- Freeze ray dodged. - Now the floor drops.
What need have I of a floor when I have my hover...
[screaming] Ohh!
Forgot about "whatever that thing is."
I sincerely mean it when I say "whoops."
[grunting and panting]
Anything else?
I wouldn't breathe that knock-out gas.
Right!
Ppuhh!
Personally, I think it's much worse than the puke-your-guts-out gas.
Puke-my-what?
[gasping]
Did I forget to mention that one too?
- Yes! [retching] - Silly me.
Works as advertised, right?
[vomiting]
Doc?
El doctore?
You here? Good.
If he won't make me a new predictacator, then I will.
How hard can it be?
[liquid sloshing]
Nice. Now, add a little bit of this.
Aah! Oof!
And we didn't even need the predictacator
to know this would happen.
Indeed. Link, you are quite predictable.
[grunting]
The golden crown will be mine!
Do not go insiiide!
Wait. What do you mean? You said I would get a golden crown!
People would bow down! Pain and suffering and pain!
You will definitely get a crown and all that if you go in.
But I'm just saying, you really shouldn't.
Let me phrase this so even you understand:
Get out of my way, you insipid jiggle bag!
At last... the ultimate weapon is mine.
An automaton that will conquer the Earth for me.
All bow before King Coverton!
[laughing maniacally]
Last time! I really think you should leave.
Silence!
Ultimate weapon robot, I command you to do my bidding.
[whirring and clanking]
Ultimate Whoopin' Bot activated.
Uh, "whoopin'"? You mean "weapon."
No. Whoopin. Let's wrestle.
Say what to who now?
[grunting and shrieking]
Oh, "whoopin'," not "weapon." [laughs]
Well... close.
Ha! Oh, man.
[grunting]
No, it's not remotely cl...
Aah! Ohh... oh, boy.
[growls] Warm-up routine completed.
Initiating pummeling protocols.
No, don't initiate...
[shrieking]
You dropped this.
Why would Coverton mess with my personal wrestlin' trainer?
It's too dangerous.
That's why I've got all those traps to keep people out.
You'd think B.O.B. could've warned the guy.
I mean, with those powers, he must've seen this coming.
See, Link? Predicting the future isn't all that.
Yes, I'm sure Coverton agrees.
See, buddy? Just like I predicted:
He's bowing down to you as he puts the golden crown...
on your tooth!
[muffled] That's not what I was promised!
Don't forget the pain and suffering.
[drill whirring, Coverton screaming]
Oh, did I call it or whaaat?
1x29 - Destroy Chickie D!
sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ addic7ed.com ~
298, 299, 300.
Ooh, feel the burn.
[grunting] The only person you're cheating
is yourself, Coverton.
Yeah! Hit the pool for some laps.
Best exercise there is.
[slurps] Oops. Need a refill.
[grunts]
Ah, too far away.
[upbeat music]
[squeak]
[laughing]
Stop that noise, blob!
You are disturbing my lifting of heavy things.
Get used to it, Sta'abi.
B.O.B. likes watching TV on the treadmill.
What are ya gonna do?
It makes him feel like he's walking into the picture.
Ooh, guys! I'm in the best chicken restaurant ever!
Even the commercials.
Male announcer: [on TV] Get your chicken on
at one of seven Chicky Ds chicken shack locations!
Impossible.
Announcer: Ginormous portions! Free wet-naps!
Complimentary bone buckets! It's all at Chicky Ds!
We'll see ya there.
"Chik...ee-Dees"?
[wailing] Chik-ee-Dee!
That sounds like the cry for chicken.
I'll answer that. Just let me towel off and...
Ohh!
What was that about?
Ptuh! My theory: My male awesomeness has stirred strange,
new feelings in our little Sta'abi.
What? You've seen my pecs. Check it.
[grunts]
[exhales]
[alarm droning]
Stand down, Sta'abi.
Can't have you out here, raisin' a ruck... hey!
[grunting and shrieking]
Somebody stop that alien! And by somebody, I mean my Monsters!
Sta'abi, come back!
Look, if this is about the treadmill, you can use it if you want.
Okay, guys, time for some soccer!
Goooaaal!
Ooh!
Gotcha!
Okay Sta'abi, everything's gonna be...
[chomp] Ow! She's biting my finger!
Release me! I must destroy this "Chik-ee-Dee"!
Chicky D? Like the chicken shack Chicky D?
Just such a giant fowl bird attacked my home world.
Peck-peck-pecking everything!
I still remember his chilling battle cry.
- Cock-a-doodle-do? - How did you know that?
Sta'abi, Chicky D isn't from space. He's a restaurant mascot.
That there is a cosmic menace of similar physique
is nothing more than an astronomically improbable coincidence.
No! It is space chicken!
And I will have my Ragma'thooth.
- "Ragma'tooth"? - Ragma'thooth!
Is that anything like Growl'nkoot?
Eh, is more like Vrana'deet. Or maybe Amaba'ti?
Ohh, Amaba'ti. Say no more.
Anyway, I will have my Ragma'thooth,
Vrana'deet, and Amaba'ti, all on Chik-ee-Dee!
Sta'abi, until you face reality,
all you're gonna have is standard issue prison eats!
Mm, will there be pudding for dessert?
Butterscotch. We aren't animals.
Do not forget the spoon.
[slurp] Uck!
There is no meat in pudding? Loser food.
Chik-ee-Dee! You will taste my Ragma'thooth!
And maybe some Vrana'deet too!
Astounding. Sta'abi tunneled first to the armory,
retrieved her weapon...
then to her locker for a change of clothes...
then to the mess hall,
where she destroyed our entire stock of pudding...
Why the butterscotch? Why?!
[sobbing incoherently]
...before tunneling out of the base. And all with this.
She's off to destroy that roadside rooster.
Which one? Aren't there are like seven Chicky Ds in the area?
Put out an A.P.B. on Sta'abi. I want to know if anyone sees her.
Hut hut hut hut hut hut hut hut hut... hyuh!
[snarling]
Sta'abi's gone? Aww.
I was bringing Vorn for a visit.
Maybe he can track Sta'abi.
Link! B.O.B.! Take the mega-mutt and find her!
Both: Aye-aye, Gen... whah!
Susan, get on the interwebs and yodel, or goggle...
or... uh... whatever they call it!
We'll hit every Chicky Ds in the state.
Way ahead of you, General. Got 'em all mapped out.
- Great. Hop on. - You're kidding, right?
You got a better idea how to cover that much territory?
Fine.
[all shouting]
Ah. Full moon, full tank of fuel.
Perfect night to hunt me down a fugitive.
You're really excited by the thought of a manhunt.
- It's vaguely creepy. - Good.
Okay, then...
"The chicken will blow you away"?
You dare mock Sta'abi?
11 miles down Route 9... to Chik-ee-Dee's doom.
General Monger! Come in, over. I just found...
[snarling]
It's a nice night... for a drive, over.
Yeah, thanks for letting us know. Over. That was pointless.
General! There it is!
The highway 17 Chicky Ds!
You gotta tell your order into the chicken beak around back.
- At ease, citizen. - Speak into the beak.
[chicken beak clucking]
Listen up, Government needs intel, pronto.
Would you like tater wedges or deep fried root beer with that?
We just need to know if you've seen anything weird tonight.
[scoffs] You're flying a jet pack in the drive-thru.
That's pretty weird.
I'll take that as a negatory.
- Off to the next Chicky Ds! - General, wait!
You can deep fry root beer? For reals?
- Sta'abi was here. - Nice deduction, Sherlock Boneless.
Route 9. That's just over...
No, not agaaain! [indistinct shouting]
Mmm! Mmm!
They totally found a way to deep fry root beer.
Seriously, you should try this.
Negative. It's unnatural.
[on radio] Susan!
Sta'abi's heading for the Chicky Ds on Route 9!
[grunting]
Repeat, Route 9!
[grunting]
Roger that, Link!
Chik-ee-Dee!
At last I have found you!
Awake, Chik-ee-Dee! Face your Ragma'thooth!
Seriously? You are going to be this way?
Hey! Stop pretending you can't hear Sta'abi. It is rude!
[whooping]
[slurping] Oh, Sta'abi.
Down, Vornicarn!
Now is the time for me to destroy this foul fowl!
It's just a statue. And a bad one.
Ragma'thooth!
That is private property!
[both shout]
Ohh! [gulp]
Ragma'thooth.
Sta'abi! Stand down!
Or you're going to have to answer to the Chicky D company!
Ragma'thooth! [munching]
Daah!
We're gonna need one doozy of a cover story.
Better think of something good, because Sta'abi's not leaving
- till she fights that chicken. - So let's give her a fight.
You got a crazy, ridiculous, borderline-bonkers plan, don't you?
- Yep. - Frankly,
I'm not comfortable with any other kind.
- Right. B.O.B., distract Sta'abi. - Love it!
Hey, Sta'abi. Guess who?
[shatters]
I'm blue, see-through, and smell like candy.
- Away, blob! - Whoa!
It's "B.O.B.," not "blob." Common mistake. Heh heh.
All right... crazy, ridiculous, borderline-bonkers plan is a go!
[crashing]
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
[screeching and yipping]
Chick-ee-dee. At last you wake.
Now I have the Ragma'thooth!
Sta'aaaabi!
[clucking]
Oww! [groans]
Oh, dear! We were so wrong!
That statue really was the terrible
intergalactic chicken, Chick-ee-Dee!
Oh, good point, Link. Yeah, Susan is the big chicken!
In that, uh... for not helping Sta'abi fight
the terrible chicken, Chick-ee-Dee!
Sta'abiii!
[gasps] You will fall, space fowl!
Uhh! We're crossing that border into bonkers...
All of this is just another commercial for Chicky Ds.
Heh. Didn't corporate tell you?
[laughs, slurps soda]
[clucking]
Ow! I mean...
Bawk!
Now is the time of the Vrana-deet!
Gah... ahh... ah-ah-ah!
Time to wrap this up.
[shouting]
Gah!
- Yeah! - Yay! Yay!
Sta'abi did it! She saved us from Chick-ee-Dee!
Hey, hey! Come, Vornicarn.
Chick-ee-dee is vanquished.
[slurps]
Ugh. This was good Ragma'thooth.
I resolved many issues. Feels good. Closure.
Now we can go back to base.
Great. I can only lie to that guy for so long.
- Commercial? - Yep! Commercial.
- So what about all the others? - What others?
Well the other Chicky Ds. There's like six other locations.
- Right, guys? - No! Well, you see...
- The thing is, they're not really... - More Chik-ee-Dees?
[snarling] Chik-ee-Dee!
Sta'aaaabi!
Oh, you go, girl! Heh.
What?
sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ addic7ed.com ~