The Penguins of Madagascar: Operation - DVD Premiere Page #9

---

Twenty-three minutes,

So that's their game.

Blowing us up one by one

with unregurgitatable gut bombs.

Horrified, yet impressed.

lt's so obvious.

I should've seen it coming.

I'm sorry, Rico. I blame myself.

- Not Rico! No!

- Not Rico. Not anybody!

- Kowalski, status report.

- Twenty-two minutes, 46 seconds.

Then we've got 22 minutes and 45 seconds

to get that bomb

out of our buddy's belly.

Rico, my friend, we are gonna

teach you to spew again.

Try to keep it in the bag, please.

Shields up.

Not to worry, men. There's more than one

way to make a penguin puke his guts out.

- Really? How many...

- Seventeen.

Just don't ever ask to see number 12.

I smuggled this

out of the zoo-venir shop.

- A nature documentary?

- Wait for it.

This is Antarctica,

icy home to the playful penguin...

Hey, that looks like Uncle Nigel!

...plump prey for the insatiable

blood thirst of this leopard seal.

- That image will haunt me.

- lt's just a boring documentary.

Bet you can't eatjust one, Mr. Seal.

Well, Rico, I'm sorry it's come to this,

but I had Kowalski whip up

a little concoction called...

...Number 12.

Two scoops of squirrel lint, a dash

of baboon spit, used kitty litter,

one hippo toenail, and anything

we could find in the monkey cages.

Whoa, Mama!

Bottoms up!

Only four minutes, 26 seconds left!

- Kowalski, ideas!

- That bomb is not coming out.

We could send a man inside to defuse it,

if we were about yay tall.

How close are we

to shrink ray technology?

- Seven hundred years.

- Curse you, shrink ray!

Make that 712.

Who is burping up the

stinking fog of lint and spit

and unspeakable things

from a kitten, and...

I don't even want to know

what that part was.

lt smells like the circus!

Am I going to the circus, too?

Why is the circus so dark and slimy?

Hey, there's popcorn down here! Hooray!

- Hey!

- The bird's gone carnivore!

Quick, we must flee!

Maurice, distract them by being eaten!

Tiny lemur, listen

very carefully to Kowalski.

He's gonna talk you through this.

OK.

All right, Mort, you need to

get to the bottom of the stomach.

- Down the spiral staircase?

- Take the elevator. lt's quicker.

- OK. Do you see the time bomb?

- I see an old squeaky toy.

- Oh, I see it. I see the bomb!

- Good!

Very carefully separate the blue

and yellow wires from their sheathing,

reverse their polarity,

then splice both into the ground lead,

which should be a slightly

thicker copper filament.

Am I going too fast for you?

OK. Which of the colors is blue?

- ls this a blue wire?

- No. I believe that's a kidney.

Sorry, amigo. Looks like game over.

I never thought it would end this way,

but I want you to know

I love you, you crazy knucklehead.

l... also... love... you.

ln the same way expressed previously...

...dude.

I love you too, Rico.

And I love this popcorn!

lt's a little wet though.

What is that noise?

I know I'm not good with words, Rico...

...and well,

either are you, really, but...

...l just want to say...

you are my brother.

That's poetry, Skipper.

I don't know about him, but this mush

is making me want to blow chunks.

Do you mind?

Where e'er the sun lays softly its head,

there will the land whisper:

- Rico, Rico

- OK, now that's poetry.

I just want to see a penguin throw up.

Mort, the bomb! Get rid of the bomb!

I got the bomb! Mort is the best!

I am the winner! Mort is so...

Lil' ranger!

We... we won!

And Rico's still alive!

Come here, boys!

He was the only one who

truly appreciated my bottom.

Hey! He's still loving my booty!

Hit it!

Cute and cuddly, boys!

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, Private?

- Black nothingness, Skipper.

Perfecto!

Bravissimo, Private! Rico, showtime!

Yeah, yeah!

Stand down, man! Stand down!

Crudely done, but I admire your moxie.

All right. Kowalski, feel it.

Sixty-forty cotton-poly blend,

with a nylon cross-weave. Nice.

Kowalski! Turn down the old think-melon.

Otherwise...

Catch my drift? Listen to your gut.

Sorry, Skipper.

That's an anatomical impossibility.

Kowalski, 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 figured they're just shy.

- Wanna come with?

- Not without proper recon, Marlene.

lt could be death a thousand

times over in that new habitat!

- Venomous vipers, blood-thirsty...

- Badgers?

- ...flying piranha.

- OK... Yeah, piranha don't fly.

That's exactly what Manfredi

and Johnson said back in Ecuador.

We buried what was left of them

with a teaspoon.

Right... Well, I think

I'm gonna go ahead and risk it.

Yeah, 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...

Maurice, what am I far too busy with?

- Posing for your royal portrait.

- I'm an easel.

- Mort?

- Yes?

- Shut up a little, OK?

- OK.

Shouldn't my muscle parts be,

you know, bigger?

Pumped a bit more? Yes?

Maurice? What is that hideousity?

- That's Mort.

- 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.

- Hello? New neighbors?

- ls it safe?

lt's nice. A little humid.

- And a lot dark and spooky.

- I didn't notice.

OK, Marlene, you're just letting

Skipper's crazy talk get to you.

Hello? New neighbors? Welcome to...

- Mort, did you see that?

- No, I see nothing!

Hi! Someone there?

Anyone? Flying piranha?

Look! Footy prints!

I know these, they are...

Mort, no!

You can do it, mate.

Don't think. Just use your instincts.

Right, instincts.

En garde!

Wait, which instinct should I use?

- Survival instinct? Homing? Social?

- Private?

- Should've gone with survival.

- Help! Help!

What is with all

the screaming craziness?

I am having troubles concentrating

on the beautifical portrait of myself!

The new neighbors, they took Mort!

He's gone!

Who's Mort?

Oh, my easel. Right.

l, too, am gasping in horror.

But on the inside,

because you know I need that easel.

From the beginning, Marlene.

Give me every gruesome detail.

I can take it.

Well, we felt like something was,

you know, watching us.

Then Mort, he found

these weird footprints.

And, all of a sudden, these squishy

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes