Soul Quest Overdrive

Bert:
Good morning, mam. I'm here to spread the important news. And his name is Jesus Christ.

[the old lady suddenly got a heart attack and then two demons rise up from the underworld tearing the old lady apart]

Mortimer:
[sees the old lady's purse] Guys, I think we were meant to have this.

[the sport pieces find some interesting stuff in the old lady's purse]

Bert:
Let's see what we got.

Mortimer:
Hmm, moth balls, moth balls, moth balls, moths, and a pot some hormones.

Bert:
Ooh.

Mortimer:
Bert, slow down those will give you b*obs.

Bert:
Well, let's roll the dice.

[Bert eats one of the hormone balls]

Tammy:
Bert, no.

Bert:
Just to take the edge off, honey.

[Mortimer sees a man walking a dog]

Mortimer:
Guys, we've got a situation, 2:00.

Bert:
Hang on. Put in my gospel tape.

Tammy:
No.

Mortimer:
Bert.

Bert:
Put it in, b*tch, or the thunder will roll down from the mountain and STOP AT THE SIDE OF YOUR HEAD!

[as Tammy puts in the gospel tape, Bert starts to murderously run over the man walking the dog as they keep going]

Bert:
[singing] Amen! Sing it from the --

[Mortimer and Tammy sees unfinished road right ahead]

Mortimer:
Bert, Bert, Bert, Bert, BERT!

Tammy:
Bert, honey, look out!

Bert:
You look out, b*tch!

[as they fall down from the unfinished road, they crashed into someone's car]

Bert:
Wow. My b*obs are okay.

[Mortimer sees an injured man that's stuck in his torso when the team's van crashed into his car on top of it]

Mortimer:
Jumping juicifer on a pogo stick!

Tammy:
That shouldn't killed him.

Bert:
NO. You saw me driving...you saw him jump out in the road.

Tammy:
LET'S GET OUT OF HERE!

Bert:
Look, honey! See he's fine.

[the injured man vomits blood]

Bert:
That's...normal right?

Mortimer:
I think he's lost a lot of blood. Sir, is this all your blood? 'Cause it's a lot of blood.

Tammy:
LET'S GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!

Bert:
No. I will lift the car off of him.

[Bert tries to lift the car with all his might]

Bert:
I cannot lift this car off of him. I mean, look how big it is. Wait, I have an idea.

[Bert leaves to find something]

Mortimer:
Uh, what was his idea again?

Injured Man:
GET THE F***ING CARJACK, YOU'RE STANDING ON IT!

Mortimer:
Hey guys, what if we used this carjack?

Tammy:
Demonjack. May the vehicle science bathe into the river.

[Mortimer tries to throw the carjack into the river but failed miserably]

Mortimer:
Oh, nachos!

[as Mortimer step inside the van, one of the injured man's intestines flies out]

Injured Man:
[struggling] Get up! Get up! Get up!

Mortimer:
Does anyone want any nachos?

Injured Man:
[struggling] Are those my kidneys?

[sees two buzzards fighting for the injured man's kidneys]

Mortimer:
Um, maybe?

Injured Man:
They look like mine.

Mortimer:
Weren't they're two of them?

Tammy:
Hey everyone, Bert's back!

Mortimer:
Oh, hi Bert.

Injured Man:
Nice cans.

Bert:
Wow! Talk about an awkward situation. [laughs] God said I needed to score some angle dust to lift the car.

Mortimer:
[pauses] So um...where is it? Where's the PCP?

Bert:
Oh, I smoked it.

Mortimer:
...

Bert:
So, uh, what are you guys doing here?

Injured Man:
GET THIS CAR OFF YOU MOTHERF***ER!

Tammy:
Do it baby! Lift the car off him!

[as Bert was about to lift the car off of him again]

Bert:
[to his breasts] God. These close are like a sweltering prisint. Get them off me! No, no I need them. No, I need more. No, I need less. No, I need exactly what I have.

Tammy:
Honey?

[Bert sees a strange light]

Bert:
You guys see that, right?

Tammy:
What are you talking about, baby?

[Bert leaves to find where the strange light is coming from]

Mortimer:
Oh, fudge.

Bert:
Oh my. It...it can't be.

[Bert sees an american tank with Jesus Christ]

Bert:
Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ:
Come my son, you are needed in the front lines of God's army.

Bert:
I'm coming, Jesus.

Jesus Christ:
So, you ever been in a tank before?

Bert:
Brrrrrr!

Jesus Christ:
What did you say?

Bert:
Sorry, sorry, I uh, just can't seem to stop shaking.

Jesus Christ:
It's okay. Doctor Jesus is here. [scratches Bert] You wound up like a spring my son. [uses lotion] Let me enlight you.

Bert:
Oh, that's great. [gets scratched real hard] Ow. Ow!

[Bert then realize he's been imagining Jesus as a tiger the whole time while inside of garbage bin]

Bert:
OH MY GOD! I don't understand the symbolism.

Mortimer:
[to Tammy] I'm not touching that thing. You open it.

Tammy:
Here. [puts a lock on garbage bin] Let's just let him rest.

Bert:
PRAISE JESUS!

[Injured Man cuts off his torso with his keys to get out of his crushed car]

Tammy:
Oh, would you look at that.

Injured Man:
Ah, there we go.

Mortimer:
God helps those who helps themselves.

Tammy:
Yay, Jesus!

Injured Man:
F*** you, evangelicals.

[the injured man then gets taken by a hawk]

Mortimer:
You have an ointant weekend, okay?

[Mick tries to catch a rat by using cheese as bait]

Mick:
He's gonna get it.

[as Bert loads up his gun]

Tammy:
BERT!

Rat:
[rat noises] "He's got a gun"! [teleports]

Tammy:
Check out all these awesome african babies.

Mick:
Bloody bastard on a cross. You got to be right batty to waste your quid on something like that.

Tammy:
Why, they must be practically giving them away. We need one. Can we get one? Please?

Bert:
Are you insane? It'll ruin our life. Come on. There are things I need to do. [pops off a couple rounds with his gun in the sky]

Tammy:
But reading this article made me lactate.

Mick:
Cheers to that. Baby has to line up behind me first.

Mortimer:
Tammy, babies are a huge responsibility. You have to take care of them.

Bert:
Whoa, whoa, whoa. [loads up his gun] Are you saying I'm poor?

Mortimer:
No, no, no, no, Bert. No.

Bert:
Fine. Call the african baby broker right now.

Tammy:
Oh, thank you, Bert!

Mick:
Aye, do that. She'll take one look at this dump and haul ass out of here like she's on fire.

Social Worker:
So, you're Mr. and Mrs. --

Bert:
Uh, no. We're not married. Uh, and I'm unemployed. Also I love drugs, and I make porn. You look like a reasonable man. Let's go make some porn over by the stove.

Social Worker:
Okay, yo...you're pushing.

Bert:
Alright. Pretend like you're cooking something. And, oh, what's that? You need a little spice. Where's that nutmeg? Oh, there it is. It's on the floor. Better bend over. Now I'm gonna come in with my rock hard two-inch bo--

Tammy:
Honey.

Bert:
What? I'm directing a scene here.

Tammy:
[to Social Worker] I'm sorry. Can you excuse us for a moment?

Bert:
[to Tammy] What? You're doing great.

Tammy:
[pulls up a knife up against his eye] Now, you listen and you listen good. We've already done the scene by the stove. Can't you have one original thought?

Bert:
[struggling] Baby --

Social Worker:
Hey, uh, what's with all the broken glass?

Mick:
It's fun to make, try it.

[Mick breaks the rum glass into his head]

Social Worker:
You know babies crawl, right?

Mick:
It's like a puzzle for the kids now. You give them a tube of glue and you watch them go. [sniffs]

[Bert and Tammy show the Social Worker a baby carrier made out of disgusting objects]

Bert:
We won this from a homeless man who took this from a store that has hundreds of them, so it's legit.

Tammy:
And look, all the mess drops right through the bars. You just hose it down.

Bert:
Straps for safety. Wheels for mobility. Can for money to buy food for baby.

Social Worker:
Let...let...let me stop you right there. I've seen enough.

Tammy:
So do we get a baby? Do we?

Social Worker:
Yes.

Bert:
Awesome!

Tammy:
Oh, thank you.

Social Worker:
And here it comes.

[the Social Worker then squirt out a baby from his arse]

Mick:
That's hitting me, by the way.

Tammy:
He's beautiful.

Bert:
Aww.

Tammy:
He looks like me.

Demon Baby:
Da-Daddy!

Mick:
Bloody hell. Get an ax!

Tammy:
No, get a bottle! He's hungry.

[Tammy slaps Bert]

Bert:
Ow!

Tammy:
You woke him up.

[Mick tries to kill the demon baby]

Mick:
[sharping his ax] Just go the sleep, Mum and Dad. Just have a nap and we can end this. I'm gonna murder that bloody thing. I'm gonna sink this ax so deep in its head.

Bert:
I know what you're thinking. Me, a father?

[Demon Baby sting Mortimer]

Mortimer:
OW!

Bert:
But just look at that face. Don't just want to kiss it? Come on. Smooch it.

Mortimer:
No, no. No, thank you.

Bert:
Kiss it.

Mortimer:
I have enough --

Bert:
Come on. Smooch it.

Mortimer:
No, I'm not a baby person.

Bert:
Kiss it.

Mortimer:
No, no.

Bert:
Yes, you do.

Mortimer:
No. Take it away.

Bert:
Mortimer, come on.

Mortimer:
[sighs] Okay. One kiss. One kiss.

[Demon Baby brutally grabs Mortimer's eye]

Tammy:
Oh, he likes you.

Bert:
Adorable.

Mortimer:
Okay, I got to run.

Tammy:
Oh, wait, wait, wait. Don't go. We haven't opened presents yet.

Mortimer:
I know. I just got to lance these boils and then probably move to the roof.

[Demon Baby pulls one of the plus electric cords]

Tammy:
Look! He's so smart.

Demon Baby:
'Lectric. 'Lectric.

Tammy:
He's learned to control it.

[Bert and Tammy takes Demon Baby at a play date]

Tammy:
Look at that. They're sharing.

[Demon Baby stings one of the other babies]

Bert:
Good hustle. Good hustle. Way to mix it up.

Tammy:
He's such a little jock. DOMINATE! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!

Woman:
Hey, uh, yeah, ah -- I don't want to be one of those overbearing parents, but would it be too much trouble to ask if --

Bert:
Hey, lady, it would be too much to ask, you know? 'Cause your kid needs to step up his game.

Tammy:
[mocking] "Oh, I can't handle venom".

Bert:
[mocking] "Oh, boo-hoo-hoo. Oh, who wants to go to the hospital? Me, me, me". That's you. That's your kid.

Demon Baby:
[growls]

Woman:
Um...why is your baby staring at my crotch?

Bert:
Well, obviously you're menstruating.

Tammy:
He can smell that from a mile away. [to Bert] Just like his father.

[Demon Baby tackles and stings Woman]

Tammy:
You have to let them explore and discover on their own.

Bert:
Hey, you handle your own kid and we'll hand ours, alright?

Tammy:
I don't like the schools in this district.

Bert:
I don't like schools at all.

Tammy:
I want to see what school is like so he can drop out on his own -- You know, make his own mistakes.

Bert:
And he hasn't made one yet.

Tammy:
[laughing] I know. He's a f***ing miracle.

Tammy:
Oh, I love doing meals-on-wheels.

Mortimer:
Yeah, this was actually a great idea, Bert.

Bert:
Yeah.

Mortimer:
Helping people who can't help themselves, giving back to the community --

Bert:
Shut up!

Mick:
Hey, pal. This sh*t tastes like dog sh*t by the way.

Bert:
Come on. That's delicious chicken and kibble. Just pressed into the shape of tiny steaks.

Mortimer:
You're going to serve it to them in a bowl?

Bert:
Hold on. I haven't activated the gravy yet.

[Bert pees in the bowl of tiny stakes]

Bert:
Mmm. See? See?

Mortimer:
[sighs] Well, at least it's protein.

Tammy:
Alright, let's do it.

Bert:
But Tammy, uh, you might lose shotgun, and then Mortimer's --

Mortimer:
No, no, no. It's cool. It's clearly dog food. I'm just gonna go chill in the car.

Bert:
YES!

[Mick eats the elderly dog's food bag]

Tammy:
No, that's for the old people.

Mick:
PUNK'S NOT DEAD!

[Mick bounces around the van like maniac and then smokes]

Tammy:
[realizes] Gross. It is dog food. [eats one of them]

Mortimer:
Yeah, I said that. I-I know that.

Tammy:
But why?

Mortimer:
Because he's gonna steal stuff from old people because we don't have anything.

Tammy:
...That's stealing.

Mortimer:
Tammy, the needs of the many. Outweigh the needs of the few. That's from "Star Trek".

Elderly Man:
Who's there?

Bert:
Hey, it's your birthday. [rings doorbell] Come on, open the door. look what I've got.

Elderly Man:
[opens his door] So hungry. Gimme. Gimme.

Bert:
Hey, now don't eat it all at once, alright? It's got to last the weekend, okay?

Elderly Man:
Give me food.

Bert:
Now, I'm just gonna set it over here in the heating vent. [slams down the dog food on the ground downwards] This way the aroma can waft through the house.

Elderly Man:
Come close. Let me smell your hand deeply to judge you friend or foe. [sniffs]

Bert:
Uh, can I use your bathroom for just a jiff?

Elderly Man:
Wait. Wait.

Bert:
No.

[Bert sees more pills in the Elderly Man]

Bert:
Come to papa. [eat one of the pills] Son of a b*tch. [to Elderly Man] Flea meds? Oh, man, I'm barely getting trails off of this. What's this? A slobbery tennis ball?

Elderly Man:
Throw it. Throw it. THROW IT, PLEASE! THROW IT!

Bert:
No, I'm not gonna throw it, because that would make you happy.

Elderly Man:
Do you like lipstick?

Bert:
What do you mean? [sees the Elderly Man coming to tackle] OH, GOD!

[Mortimer sees the Elderly Man trying to hump Bert]

Mortimer:
[clears throat] Um, nice to meet you.

Elderly Man:
Now roll up a newspaper and swat me. I've been bad. But first, let me leave something on the floor. [looking at Tammy] Let me earn it.

Mortimer:
Uh, my name's --

Elderly Man:
Mortimer, right?

Mortimer:
[surprised] Yeah.

Elderly Man:
And your name's [sniffs Tammy's butt] Sammy?

Tammy:
Uh, Tammy.

Elderly Man:
Mm. Threw me off. You must have been clenching your buttocks. [grabs and sniffs Tammy's butt again] Ooh. Smells like someone's a big fan of "The Boss".

Tammy:
I love Bruce Springsteen.

[police sirens wailing noises outside the window]

Elderly Man:
Oh, would you excuse me. [to the police cars] Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! W-what are you doing? W-where are you going? Where's the fire? I hope you put it out! I HOPE YOU PUT IT OUT! It's gone. They left.

Mortimer:
Uh, maybe we should be going too, right Bert?

Bert:
[stealing more stuff] Oh, no, we've still got time.

Bert:
[sees a collar] Wow, you're into this, huh?

Elderly Man:
Oh, no. I broke out of that when I fled Dog Planet.

[dramatic music plays]

Elderly Man:
Oh, god, they know I'm here. BARK! BARK! BARK AT THE MOON! BARK! BARK! BARK AT THE MOON!

[Elderly Man unzips himself revealed to be a dog alien in disguise the whole time]

Mortimer:
Um, we should go.

Bert:
Hang on, this is cool.

[all the dog aliens shoot the entire place up]

Dog Alien:
Everyone, everyone gather around. Everyone feel free to clean your genitals in my home. It's a sanitation issue.

Mick:
This is nae so impressive. I can lick my own balls.

Bert:
Pfft. No, you can't.

Mick:
I'll show you, pal. [stabs the garden scissors in his body]

[Mick does surgery by removing the team's ribs]

Tammy:
Where am I?

Bert:
Hey, you removed all our ribs.

Mick:
Aye, so you can lick your balls. Enjoy.

Bert:
[tries to move] Yeah, I think you removed some of our muscles, too, idiot.

Mick:
Look, I'm not a surgeon, per se. I'm more like a roadie for Marilyn Manson. Well, was.

Mortimer:
Um, for the record I didn't really want to be able to lick my balls.

Mick:
Well, you should've made it clearer when I was courting you, you wee prick.

Tammy:
Do you think we could get our ribs back?

Bert:
[hears dog noises] Yo, what the f*** is that?

All Dogs:
RIBS! RIBS! RIBS!

Dog Alien:
[holding all the ribs] I ask you, who among us is a good boy?

All Dogs:
WE ARE!

Mortimer:
Hey, did you guys know Michael just finished a set in London and had no panic attack?

Tammy:
You're kidding. That's great.

Bert:
He's the f***ing king of pop, you b*tch. [pulls the gun on Tammy]

Rich Guy Divorcee:
Hey, I'm wacko for jacko too, a**holes, but what the hell are you doing?

Bert:
Uh, destroying your ex-wife's house like you paid us to?

Tammy:
We turned that house into a gazebo.

Bert:
See? Right here. [shows the plan on paper]

Rich Guy Divorcee:
She lives two blocks down. You can see her house from here. I DREW you a picture.

Bert:
Oh. Oh, we must have the wrong house, then.

Rich Guy Divorcee:
God, yes, I know, retards.

Tammy:
Mick, he called you a retard.

Mick:
What in the --

[Mick light himself on fire to break down the Rich Guy Divorcee's house]

Mick:
REATRDS ATTACK!

Rich Guy Divorcee:
No, please, no don't! MY GUNPOWDER COLLECTION!

[the Rich Guy's house was then blown to smithereens]

Tammy:
Whoa. It's beautiful.

Rich Guy Divorcee:
Moo, moo, sea cow! Just came by to redecorate the house I had to give you. Fire away!

[the inanimate object team fires golf balls at the Rich Guy's divorced wife's house]

Bert:
Whoa.

Mortimer:
That is totally boss.

Mick:
Hello, hello.

Bert:
Damn.

[Robot Ex-Wife approaches]

Rich Guy Divorcee:
Whoa. Where's the baby weight? You been working out, huh? Did you lose it so you can whore it up all over town? Oh, man, I miss you.

Robot Ex-Wife:
Get ahold of yourself. How are the kids?

Rich Guy Divorcee:
They, uh...they converted to Mexicanism.

Robot Ex-Wife:
Oh, no.

Rich Guy Divorcee:
Hola.

Robot Ex-Wife:
We hardly ever talk. Oh well. [lasered his divorce husband]

Bert:
HEY! That guy owed us 10 grand. What are you gonna do about it?

[Robot Ex-Wife crushed his divorced husband's head]

Mortimer:
I don't think she's about to pay us 10 grand.

Tammy:
[to Bert] Oh, baby, get her. Get her, baby. SICK HER! SICK HER!

Bert:
Uh, alright, Tammy. Alright, well, we don't -- [pushes Tammy back away from Robot Ex-Wife]

Tammy:
What are you looking at, you shiny b*tch?

Bert:
Come on, Tammy. Come on, baby.

Mick:
You can do this.

Bert:
Alright.

Mick:
Just go psycho like a bloody chimpanzee.

[Bert headbangs the robot with his pinhead then leaves immediately]

Bert:
Okay, let's go I killed her.

[Bert, Tammy, Mortimer, and Mick get transported to another place when the Robot Ex-Wife zaps them]

Mortimer:
What...what just happened?

Tammy:
Did we die? Is this heaven?

Mick:
Check out the loot. This must be the planet of robot ex-wives, by the way.

Bert:
This is where we live now.

Tammy:
We're rich. But why? How?

Bert:
Well, Tammy, clearly this is our reward for being so good at what we do.

Tammy:
Oh, that makes sense.

Bert:
[sees a big TV] Alright come to papa.

[Robot Ex-Wife grabs Bert]

Robot Ex-Wife:
Our people need golf instructors.

Bert:
Sure. I'll, uh, get right on that.

Robot Ex-Wife:
And it is time for my lesson. [takes Bert with him]

Bert:
Hey, hey! Hey, hey!

Mortimer:
Guys, I-I have a bad feeling. We clearly do not know how to play golf.

Mick:
You're right. We do not know how to play golf.

Tammy:
Mm, what's that? I couldn't hear you over all this fur.

Mortimer:
Hey, Mick, weren't you saying something about Robot Ex-Wives?

Mick:
See, it's a whole planet of gold diggers. They marry rich guys and then divorce them for the golf instructor. They think we're rich.

Mortimer:
No, Mick, they don't think that at all.

[after Bert got done doing sex with Robot Ex-Wife]

Robot Ex-Wife:
Very satisfying.

Bert:
Ugh.

Tammy:
Did they make you their king?

Bert:
If by king you mean, I just had the most brutal sex in my life. Then yes.

Mick:
Och, you lucky bastard.

Tammy:
Bert, how could you?

Bert:
I admit that I am truly gifted when it comes to sex.

Tammy:
It's true.

Bert:
I have the stamina of a centaur in the sack.

Tammy:
I get so tired.

Bert:
I've served more beef than Burger King, but any more of this, and it will kill my Whopper Jr.

Mortimer:
Guys, I n-never told you this, but...I'm terrified of having sex with a robot.

Bert:
There's no shame in that, Mortimer.

Tammy:
Oh, did something happen to you when you were young?

Mortimer:
Just drop it, Tammy.

Mick:
I'll bet it did, you randy bastard. Did you get your ram jacked?

Mortimer:
I mean, it wasn't a robot, but it was a man in a silver shirt.

Robot Ex-Wife:
You have pleased us tremendously. And now we will all go on a cruise.

Robot Ex-Wife:
A sex cruise.

Robot Ex-Wife #2:
The evening orgasm variety show will begin in five minutes. Prepare all captives for complete genital exhaustion.

Mortimer:
No.

Tammy:
Not again, you robot b*tches!

Bert:
[gathers weapons and ammo] Good thing I stole this. Now let's get the damn out of there.

Mick:
I'm staying, guys. This is it. This is my new life.

Bert:
Sounds good.

Tammy:
Okay. It was nice being your friend. Bye.

Tammy:
Do it, baby. Blow them to hell.

Bert:
Hey, this is a lot like "The Love Boat", huh? Except everyone dies.

Mortimer:
Bert, save the drama. Just shoot.

Bert:
Sayonara.

[Bert blows up the sex cruise]

Bert:
YEAH! WOO-HOO-HOO! YEAH [sees Mick falling from the explosion] Whoa.

Mick:
Legendary spam gasm. Did you see what my crotch did?

Tammy:
At least we're all safe.

[all the four gets eaten by a big fish]

Bert:
Hey, chief, how those food stamps coming?

Mortimer:
I think they look pretty convincing.

Tammy:
Oh, thank god. I'm so hungry.

Mortimer:
You know, this would have gone a lot easier if you didn't mainline all out printer cartridges.

Bert:
Yeah, I was tattooing the inside of my veins. Check it out. Fresh ink.

Tammy:
Ooh, you look dangerous. Like on TV. TV dangerous.

Tammy:
Where the hell have you been?

Mick:
I was jumping up and down on a dead cow by the train tracks, and then, I don't know, I think I blacked out.

Tammy:
You were supposed to be foraging for food, Mick.

Mick:
I thought you said I'm supposed to get laid. 'Cause that's something I did.

Tammy:
Now what are we supposed to eat?

Bert:
Ooh, what about my band-aid collection? Everyone has a different story.

[Mick suddenly starts to feel sick]

Bert:
What's up with him?

Tammy:
Oh, my god. Roll him over. Hold him down.

Bert:
No.

Tammy:
Put-Put your arm in his mouth.

Bert:
No. No, thank you.

Tammy:
Put your foot in his eyeball. That's what you're supposed to do. Push on his brain. Push on his brain!

[Mick swallows out a plate of spaghetti]

Bert:
Whoa!

Tammy:
Wow.

Bert:
Viva Italia!

Tammy:
Who ordered Olive Garden?

Mortimer:
Hey, guys I'm do-- What the hell?

Bert:
I know. Mann from heaven.

Mortimer:
More like guts from hell.

Tammy:
Wait, baby. Do it for us. Try a flavor.

Bert:
I'm just high enough to try.

Mortimer:
No. Bert, do not eat that.

[suddenly the spaghetti starts to come to life as a monster]

Bert:
I have the ability to piss off food.

Mortimer:
Uh, speaking of piss, gee, ah, I have got to pee. See you guys.

Bert:
Coward.

Tammy:
Well, that was pointless. No food. I'm starving.

Bert:
Let's just sleep it off. We'll eat in our dreams. Where you can order whatever you want.

Tammy:
But what about him? [to Mick]

Bert:
Ah, pfft, I've seen worse. If he's not dead, he'll be fine.

[Mick literally coughs out many spaghetti items from every area of his face]

Tammy:
[singing] Grate, grate, grate the cheese, grate it all night long --

Bert:
What the hell? My beauty sleep. Someone is taking it.

[Bert sees Tammy grating the cheese]

Bert:
Honey, what are you doing?

Tammy:
[hypnotized] I'm grating this cheese. Romano and parm...zee-an...cheese.

Bert:
Yeah. I see that. it's 5:00 in the morning.

Tammy:
[hypnotized] Yes. it is. When else does one grate cheese?

Mick:
[hypnotized] Punch. Punch. Pass me that dough. This one's ready.

Bert:
You've never cooked a day in your life.

Bert:
[hypnotized] Oh, look. Those are some pretty tomatoes. Must DICE them!

Mortimer:
[gets out of the bathroom] Hey, guys. You're still alive. Is it gone?

Bert, Tammy, Mick:
[hypnotized] Join us.

Mick:
[hypnotized] By the way.

Mortimer:
Oh, I forgot to flush. See you. [gets back to the bathroom]

Mortimer:
Guys, I figured it out. He's an Italian Alien. An it-alien, if you will. he has come here to cook dinner for the pope in 1912, and he needs to know if we can send him back in time. So I ask you, can we send him back in time?

[Tammy starts to exhale another noodleball onto Mortimer]

Mick:
[hypnotized] The Beacon.

Tammy:
[hypnotized] Let the gastranomicon begin.

[Bert, Tammy, Mortimer, and Mick start to grow beards after the spaghetti assimilation]

Tammy:
My insides feel like they've been cored out by Satan.

Mick:
See, me, I feel like I feel every morning, hungover as sh*t ready for a fight, and gagging for a pint.

Tammy:
How come we all have beards?

Mick:
Look at that. I can make a wee braid.

Tammy:
And why is it so luscious?

Mortimer:
Stop. Stop cooking. I figured it all out. The It-Alien inhabited your bodies to cook its grandmother's old recipe for human disaster.

Bert:
What?

Mortimer:
[scoffs] Don't you see? The RV is a breeding ground for the master race of Noodlezoids.

Tammy:
Ugh.

Bert:
Oh, come on.

Mick:
Noodlezoid my ass.

Tammy:
If you want attention, just say so. Just say, "Hey, I need a hug", okay?