Do do do do doo do
Do do do do doo
Billy Dilley, we're subterranean
Billy Dilley, you're such a brainy kid
Billy Dilley, it's fascinating how
Billy Dilley, it's complicated now
Billy Dilley, situation critical
Billy Dilley, I hope it's fixable
Okay. Whoa!
Billy Dilley,
Billy Dilley
We now return to Cheez Cop.
- Hey, we were watching that. - This had better be important.
Don't you mean this had cheddar be important?
Swiss had cheddar be important?
- Swiss had cheddar Brie important? - Guys, it's only the most exciting news
- this summer. - Color me intrigued.
I, Marsha, am pleased to announce...
I am hereby resuming my journalistic career.
I didn't know you had a journalistic career.
Don't you remember, guys? I was an ace reporter
for Gumbert Johnson Middle School.
I've decided to start up my own newspaper,
the Subterranea-Tania Times. Cute and catchy, don't you think?
Now all I need is a cute and catchy story for the front page. Any ideas?
Ooh, Marsha, Marsha! Marsha!
- Go ahead, Billy. - I've got a super subterranean story
for you that you are just going to love.
Come on. Are you ready to have your socks knocked off?
Behold. The mushroom patch.
Do you love it?
- It's fungus. - You're telling me.
There's pink ones, yellow ones, puce ones, clear ones, violet ones.
- Pesky woozies. Shoo. Shoo. Shoo! - Are these woozies out here every day?
As a matter of fact, they are.
To tell you the truth, they're kind of driving me crazy.
Come on. I think they're kinda cute.
What's that?
No! That's definitely going in the gossip column.
Oops! No, I shouldn't.
What's that you're writing in your journal, Marsha?
That's nothing.
A mystery. Marsha, wait!
- Is it about the mushrooms? - Not exactly.
- Then it's something about the woozies. - Never mind, Billy.
Not the mushrooms, not the woozies.
- Was it something about me? - It's private, Billy.
It's for me to know, and for you to never find out.
Why? Is it a secret? Why can't you just tell me? Why?
Billy, don't mess with the press.
She could've written anything in that journal.
She could've written about me, or the mushrooms,
or me and the mushrooms, or me and the woozies,
or just the woozies, or me and the mushrooms...
Anaximander, if I don't read what Marsha wrote
in her journal, and soon, my curiosity will consume me,
growing and growing, till I'm nothing
but a big brain-shaped question mark.
Wandering the night, forever curious.
But Marsha's never gonna let me read that journal.
I'm gonna have to take matters and the journal,
into my own hands.
- Great. To begin my reading. - I'll take that.
Remember to brush in quadrants, Zeke.
I am a hungry... ...baby stalagmite.
My doctor says I can only eat journals,
like that one.
Here you go. Take it.
All right, Billy. If you want my journal, then you'll get it.
I'll never read that journal. No! I can feel it happening.
I'll be a giant question-mark shaped brain in no time.
Hey, Zeke, wanna come outside with me?
Sure, Marsha. Only let's not bring anything with us.
Not even my reporter's journal?
Let's leave it home this time for no apparent reason.
"For Marsha's eyes only. If you aren't Marsha, stop reading."
Not sure what she meant by that. Better keep reading.
"I can't believe what I found out today. My lab friend is royalty."
Royalty? "The woozies have bestowed upon him
"the ancient crown of the mushrooms.
"If he only knew that he is Prince Billy Dilley,
"guardian of the mushroom patch."
I never could've dreamed of reading something this astounding in here.
Well, I guess I do know my way around a mushroom patch.
Make way for the mushroom prince.
Well, Marsha, aren't you gonna say something?
My eyes are down here.
What? I guess you finally read my journal.
As mushroom prince, it is my royal right to read whatsoever as I wish. Amen.
No, no, you're right. A prince is a prince, after all.
Perhaps a royal parade to the mushroom patch in your honor.
Well, if you insist.
Hark.
Dude, I have come to demand the crown of the mushroom prince.
That's fascinat... What? Why do you want it?
That crown no longer belongs to you, Billy.
I'm afraid you're mistaken. Sporling, the royal journal.
Yes, my liege.
"And it is foretold that the woozies have decreed
"Billy Dilley, prince of the mushrooms." Sorry, Zeke. Read it and weep.
My prince, turn the page. There's more.
More? "However, Billy must never learn he's been made mushroom prince,
"because if he ever discovers the truth, say by stealing this journal,
"and reading it without permission, the magic that made him prince
"would be broken"?
I broke the magic!
"And then, Zeke will be made his replacement."
- I'll take that crown. - But you don't even like mushrooms!
Usurper!
Billy, calm down. I made the whole thing up.
- It's a prank, Billy. - But you hate pranks.
I hate pranks on me. I love pranks on you.
- This is treachery of the highest order. - You wanna talk treachery?
I told you, what I wrote in my journal was private,
- but you just had to read it. - I wouldn't have read it at all
if you'd just told me what the woozies said.
But no, you had to keep it a secret. Marsha's secret story.
I was going to put it in the gossip column,
but it would've been too embarrassing for you.
- Embarrassing? Why? - Okay, you really wanna know?
The woozies said you smell like garbage.
Garbage? You must mean my woozie repellent.
- Woozie repellent? - Woozie repellent?
I've been experimenting with a new batch.
"Contains egg shells, banana peels, fish heads, missing left socks,
"and orange rinds for a little citrus zing."
Not quite garbage, but I can see why you might think that.
I absolutely drenched myself with it yesterday.
Which reminds me, we can all probably use some right now.
The woozies can't be far off.
What the... Shoo!
Hey!
What the...
We gotta get outta here.
Don't run off, guys.
You probably just need more woozie repellent..
Wait for me!
Hey, Billy, I'm starting to think that woozie repellent of yours
has the opposite of the desired effect.
"Woozie love. The best woozie bait in the whole world"?
Hey, you're right, Zeke.
I must've affixed the label to the wrong can.
- The wrong can? - The wrong can?
Fascinating. We appear to be stuck tight to a thick coating
of gelatinous mushroom sap.
Speaking of sap, Marsha, I'm sorry I read your private journal.
- I really shouldn't have. - I'm sorry, too, Billy.
I guess we both went too far.
- Lab friends? - Lab friends.
- Lab friends, Zeke? - More like log friends.
Billy, for what it's worth,
I think you would've made a good mushroom prince.
Good mushroom prince?
I would've made
the most super-duperest mushroom prince ever.
You know, if there really was such a thing as a mushroom prince.
Of course, there's such a thing, you nitwits.
Who are you?
- I am the real mushroom prince. - What are you gonna do to prove it?
Are you gonna twirl that little mushroom thingy
with the bells on it?
Exactly.
For being a real mushroom prince, he's not much of a fun guy.
- Here you go, hot off the press. - Captivating.
Now that's what I call food for thought. Sorry. We're all sold out.
- Aw! - Aw!
Wow, Marsha, sounds like your first issue was a real hit.
Thanks, Billy. Next time, I might even print more than one copy.
Yeah, you know, Marsha, now that the mushroom prince's curse
is all worn off, I think I might be starting to miss it.
Speak for yourself.
Butterfly.
Hey, what do you think you're doing?
- Who's there? - Up here, you ninny!
Hi! Didn't see you there at first.
My name is Billy Dilley. What's yours?
Wretcher. Count Wretcher. That's my sludge you're trespassing upon.
Fascinating. Sorry, sir. I didn't realize
that sludge could belong to anybody.
I invented it.
Now skedaddle, you... you... you miscreant.
Gadzooks! Thurston!
- Find out what that blasted commotion is. - Right away, Count Wretcher, sir.
It would appear that a red tumbleweed is at the door, sir.
Thurston, I don't have time for your... What in blazes?
- So do you have a lab partner already? - You again? So,
you'd like to learn more about my sludge, would you?
- I sure would. - Here's a free sample.
Why does nothing work?
Fascinating. Sir. That's... Pfft.
Get out.
Sorry. I was just excited to meet a fellow inventor.
I've never had a friend like that up in the surface world.
Surface world? Tell me more.
It's a vast land with huge cities full of people, beautiful forests,
gigantic shopping malls.
It's perfect. This naive little surface-dwelling simpleton
bumbled into my life at just the right moment
to help me realize my master plan, to travel to the Earth's surface,
and suffocate it in my patented toxic sludge!
- Raymond Wretcher! - Yes, Mother.
You're not playing around
with that horrible, dirty slime again, are you?
- Of course not, Mumsy. - Don't you back sass me.
You know very well that you are not to take your slime
- beyond the confines of this yard. - I know, Mummy, I know.
- Promise me, Raymond. - Fine. I promise.
Are you satisfied?
And it's not slime. It's sludge!
And on Third Street, there's this big vacant lot
- where you can... - Splendid! Splendid, splendid.
So, by what means exactly did you manage to find your way here
from this surface world of yours,
and can it take us back?
Yeah, we came here in the Cheeserator.
What's it now?
So, what do you think?
We shall leave immediately!
All right! Except we can't.
- Come again. - The Cheeserator, it's broken.
That's why we're still here.
- What is, Billy? - Ew. What's this?
Guys, meet my new best friend. Count Wretcher.
Well, hello. Any friend of... what was your name again?
- Billy. - Billy, is a friend of mine.
- Yeah, I don't trust him. - Nope.
Candy?
So, what do we need in order to fix this behemoth?
Just a few different parts and materials.
We'll go out and gather the things together,
like real partners.
The first thing we're gonna need is a fresh cup of lava.
All you have to do is quickly screw on the cap
before the nutrients escape.
I think I can handle that.!
We need lava fresh from the source.
This is madness.
My extendo-grabber will be right there with you.
Billy, crank faster.
- Ready with the cap. Over. - Okay.
Got it, Count. Row on back.
- Right. There's no oars. - Whoops. Hang tight.
Okay, on the count of 20.
- One, two... - Just throw it, you fool!
Billy!
Help me, you numbskull.
Success. Come on, partner.
What in blazes are these miserable beasts?
They are the mighty Emperor Penguonodon!
In order to fix the Cheeserator,
you need to sneak up to the alpha male,
and harvest the mucus icicle from his beak.
- Why can't you? - Because I'm not tall enough.
Of all the ridiculous, demeaning things I've ever...
Hmph.
- He did it. - I did it!
- That was amazing! - Indeed it was, lad.
The stuff of legends. Victory is...
I think that'll be more than enough Penguonodon mucus,
Count Wretcher.
Sweet dreams, Penguonodons.
Now to combine the materials we gathered into this tumbler,
and we're in business.
I thought you said we needed a few materials.
- That was only a couple. - Yeah. We also needed your left sock.
What? Why bother asking?
Oaky, with a hint of Brie. No, Limburger.
- We did it, Count. - To the surface world!
- Did someone say surface world? - Hey, guys. You're just in time.
Is it true, Billy? Are we really going home?
- Well... - Candy!
- Goodness, no time for chit-chat.
- Work your magic, my boy. - Okay, Count.
If I can pull this off,
the Cheeserator will get a whole new lease on life.
And...
Ta-da! Best ukulele glue in the world.
Ukulele glue?
Well, yeah. I mean, we gotta start the repairs somewhere.
Balderdash! I'm using this to get to the surface world,
one way or another! Surface world, here I come!
If he thinks that ball of goo he just threw in the fuel tank
is gonna start the engine, he's...
- Cheeserator on. - ...absolutely right.
I can finally complete my life's mission.
To travel the Earth's surface and cover it with sludge,
laying waste to the entire surface world.
And you, you will all be covered in it as well.
You were saying?
Probably should get going now. We should, do this again sometime.
Or whatever. Love this crazy thing.
What the...
New target acquired. Count Wretcher.
What? That's me! Not good. Not good!
No! The Cheeserator
has mistaken Count Wretcher for a piece of cheese.
Oaky, with a hint of Brie. No, Limburger.
And the Cheeserator is set on drilling him full of cheese holes.
I can't just sit here and watch my partner get drilled with holes
and then crushed under the Cheeserator.
The Count's castle. That's it.
Don't worry, Count.
I got an idea.
This is it.
Billy! Shoot the Cheeserator!
I'm on it, Count.
Whoa!
Nice knowing you, tumbleweed.
Limburger not found...
- The Cheeserator stopped. - What is that smell?
Sludge.
The sludge masked the Limburger smell that was causing the Cheeserator
to target Count Wretcher.
So Count Wretcher's toxic sludge saved our lives.
And that is precisely why I want to share my sludge
with the surface world.
You said you wanted to cover every single inch of the world with it.
- Including us! - Well... in that instance,
- sludge was just a metaphor for love. - Still don't trust him.
- Nope. - But you, Billy,
you still trust me. Don't you, Billy?
Absolutely!
- Raymond! - Yes, Mother?
It is past your bedtime, young man.
- Coming, Mother. - Welcome home, Count Wretcher.
Not now, Thurston. Not now.
I said you've got the wrong number
For the right guy
I'll do the job for you
Just pay the price
Run, run, run away
Baby, stick to the plan Whoo whoo
Run, run, run away
Catch me if you can