But, doc, that tumor's gonna kill him. You've gotta operate.
He won't let me. As an Alvian Scientist, his religion forbids it.
- Well, prayer isn't gonna heal him. - Well, duh.
Are y'all talking about me?
No, once again, we are talking about your tumor.
God, don't give it a name. That gives it power.
- Sir, please. Let Virjay operate. - No.
The Church of Alvis Scientists says prayer heals all.
And so it shall be with my God-canker.
Plus, I finally got a date with Debbie Love...
...and I want it to be perfect.
Now, if you'll excuse me.
Damn.
- Great. So now what do we do? - Well...
- No, it's too risky. - What? Tell us. What is it?
We use the shrink ray to make Deep Diver and a crew very, very tiny.
Then we put them into Shanks.
They shoot the tumor with lasers and... out through his nose.
You really think that will work?
Well, I guess we'll see.
Yeah, a shrink ray. Just like that time on Muppet Babies.
When Scooter had spinal meningitis.
You guys see that one?
Hang on.
So, yeah, I think we have a clip.
What's that, Freddy? Freddy's signaling me.
What?
- You look dynamite, by the way. - Oh, thanks.
How were your holidays? What?
Oh, you're kidding. Freddy says we don't have a clip.
Hey, we're gonna take a break and get this sorted out.
Okay, people. We only have 11 minutes before we go back to full size...
...and if we're still in him, he dies.
So, Sparks, you've got to get the dart in his carotid artery or we won't--
Got it. Thanks.
Thank you.
Oh, crap. How the hell am I gonna find the damn thing and inject it?
Hey, we're gonna take a break and get this sorted out.
Okay, we're in!
- Oops, dart in your ass. - What the hell did you do that for?
Because shut up.
Man, this is nasty. I'm never eating people again.
Oh, my God. Is that poo?
Oh, man, we're in the colon.
- Sparks! - Thanks for calling OnSparks.
- You injected us into his ass. - Yeah, carotid artery.
- That's in the neck. - No. it isn't.
- Yes, it is! - Yeah, I know.
- Damn it! - Hang on a sec.
Thanks for calling OnSparks. How may I help you?
- Oh, my God! - Okay. Okay, just calm down.
My baby's locked in the car--
Ma'am, okay. Will you shut the hell up, bitch?
Dude, I gotta take this.
- Damn it, he hung up. - Never mind that. Look.
Mother--
- Stormy. White blood cells. - Oh, my God!
Let's dance, you bastards.
- Twelve o'clock high, Stormy. - Look out!
- Eat it, eat it, eat it. - They're surrounding us.
There's another one. Shoot it.
- I got one. - Great, kid.
- Don't get cocky. - Shut up.
- Bandits on our six. - Stay on target. Stay on target.
- Look out! - I can't shake them.
Get some, get some. Beautiful, man. Freaking beautiful.
Oh, my goodness. This is beautiful.
- Real romantic. - I only agreed to go out with you...
...because I feel bad you're gonna die soon.
- Just as long as it's not a pity date. - Oh, it's a pity date.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry. This is so funny, okay?
I'm sorry.
Okay.
Breadstick?
- They're coming in too fast. - Quinn, look, there's a cave.
Hang on.
- I think we lost them. - Yeah. It's quiet.
Maybe too quiet.
Knock it off, Stormy.
- Stormy! - That wasn't me.
Oh, my God.
- What? - This isn't a cave.
It's a tapeworm!
Stormy, eighty-six that thing!
What's the matter?
I feel as if a tiny voice just cried out in terror and was suddenly silenced.
Probably just gas.
- Smoked that bitch! - Where in the hell did that thing come from?
No, no, señor. Don't do it.
- Stormy, what the hell are you doing? - Taking out his appendix.
- That's his pancreas, you idiot. - Okay.
- Oh, my God. What is that? - Just my love leaking out.
So how were your holidays?
Okay, people. We're coming up on the heart.
Well, how in the hell did that get there?
No, no, señor. Don't do it.
- Hang on. I'm gonna smoke that bitch. - No, no, no. Stormy, wait.
Honey, you need some damn Rolaids.
Don't eat medicine.
- Oh, my God. - We're going too fast.
- Slow down. - Debbie, see if you can lock it down.
- We lost lateral control. - You idiot!
That block was holding back a tsunami of blood.
- Yeah, till I smoked that bitch. - We're gonna crash into his brain.
Tum-ens? Well. I like me a tight ass. And a man who can speak French.
Yeah, well, all right.
Way to go. We crashed into the language center of his brain.
Thank you.
Hey, if I could just reintroduce the time-limit parameter here.
We got five minutes, people.
Hang on. I'm gonna back out of here.
- Try rocking it, dude. - Would you shut up?
Hey, hey, hey. That's my line, tumor face.
Okay, we're pulling free.
- Mother-- - Hit the brakes.
And you there, bootylicious, I couldn't help but notice your mouth is empty.
Shanks, are you gonna let him talk to me like that?
- Yeah, how about it there, lumpy? - Hey, hey, hey. I don't want any trouble.
Way to go, Minnie-Can't-Driver. Now we're in his testosterone gland.
And then I'm gonna shove your broke-ass leg bones down your damn throat...
...and toss your guts like a freaking salad.
- Damn it! - Gad, I'll drive the damn thing.
- I can do it. -"I can do it." Watch and learn.
No, no. You shouldn't have had to seen that. You're a lady.
Well, you show me a woman who doesn't get turned on...
...watching her man beat the ever-living **** out of somebody...
-...and I'll show you a lesbian. - You mean, you like that?
Well, let me put it this way: I'm glad I'm wearing a wet suit.
- Yup. You look real puny. - No. I--
Never mind. Get the check, baby. I got an idea for dessert.
- I mean, it's an automatic, for God's sake. - Go to hell.
Oh, and there's the tumor.
- I said, there's the tumor, Quinn. - Quinn? Who's Quinn?
- My name's Minnie-Can't-Driver. - Really? Because I thought it was:
"Hey, I ain't getting any tonight, and even if I was...
...I'd probably be too drunk to get it halfway up."
- Oh, I want an Indian name. - Hey. Time-limit parameter?
- Ninety seconds. - Okay. I'll hold us in position, and Stormy--
- Not Stormy. I'm He-Who-Smokes-Bitches. - Whatever. Just light it up.
- Yeah. Just light it up. - Oh, I don't know.
The Church of Alvis Scientists frowns on--
That crazy-ass church of yours frowns on everything.
Can't drink, can't smoke, can't go to the doctor.
- Interracial dating, oh, that's a huge no-no. - See? Now, that's too bad...
-...because I'd really like to see you again. - Really?
Well, it might be because I ain't never been this messed up before.
- But, yeah. - Well, hell. Then I renounce my religion.
Take that, tumor.
Let's get out of here.
- Get out of here. - I'm serious.
- Your tumor's gone. - Well, I'll be dipped.
Hey, why don't you pack us another **** in case I got any colorectal polyps?
Hang on. We've only got 30 seconds to exit through his nose...
...before we go back to full size.
- Hurry, Debbie. - Don't worry. I'll get us there.
"Oh, don't worry. I'll get us there.
And then I'll have sex with all of you."
Yeah, you keep on being a little bitch.
- We're getting close. I see boogers. - Here we go.
- We hit something. - Good driving, whore.
- You've only got 10 seconds! - What the hell's blocking his nose?
Hey, check this out. I'm a walrus.
Shanks, you so crazy.
Oh, my God!
Hey, we're gonna take a break and get this sorted out.
What's that, Freddy? Our producer, Freddy, ladies and gentlemen.
Freddy, how were your holidays?
What? You don't have a promo cued up?
Apparently, Freddy's still on vacation, folks.
Must be why he's sucking on that daiquiri like it's got cancer vaccine in it.
Do we even have the live feed?
[ENGLISH]