The Oblongs (2011) s01e08 Episode Script

The Golden Child

Oblongs, Oblongs Down in the valley where a chemical spill Came from the people living up on the Hill There's a family by the landfill with hazardous foam In their happy glowing home Oblongs lt's Oblong on a breakaway.
He shoots, he scores! Boys, do you mind? l'm trying to work here.
Don't look at me.
l'm just reading Gigantic Ass magazine.
Biff, why can't you be more like your brother and quietly read pornography? l prefer to stay focused on the manliness of sports.
Coach always says: heart, obedience, motivation, opportunity.
-H-O-M-O.
-That spells "homo.
" You don't know how to spell.
Well, l guess l'd better get to work and stuff these beauties in the suggestion box.
Dad, you've been doing that for 20 years.
Have they ever used one of your ideas? Nope, not a one.
But they weren't as good as these: Midday karaoke break, stolen office supply amnesty, payless Fridays.
Yep, today Bob Oblong begins his meteoric rise to the top.
l hope you don't trade me in for a trophy wife with a full head of hair and a functioning liver.
Not on your life, you bald Venus.
Morning, Mom, Dad.
l'm gonna skip breakfast.
l wanna get to school early and learn, learn, learn.
You sure you're not gonna stop and play video games? Goodness no, Father.
Oh, by the way, can l have all your quarters? l lost a paternity suit.
Milo, be careful with those video games.
Addiction runs in the family.
You know your father's a chocoholic.
Hello, Gunther? l slipped again.
-Die, zombie! -Kill the zombie! -Kill him! -Yes! Direct hit! l'm almost at the highest level.
Somebody give me a quarter.
Sorry, l'm saving up for the new Harlequin Romance The Pirate and the Fat Housewife with the High School Education.
l blew all mine on souvlakia.
No! Forget it, Milo.
The game is a gyp.
This is but the blood of a donkey.
She-donkey.
Milo, in recognition of all the money you've squandered here -allow me to comp you a sports drink.
-Cool.
"Das Boost.
" Das good.
lt's just sugar water, but daft buggers like this spend a right bob on it.
Go back to France, you stupid Kraut.
Bob, eh? How much is that in quarters? Ah, Oblong.
Another batch of suggestions.
Good, it's a little chilly in here today.
The suggestion box empties into the furnace? You've single-handedly kept this factory warm for over 20 years.
But l've been hoping for a promotion.
Oh, come on, Oblong.
You're from the valley and there's large chunks of you missing.
But, sir, this company should reward hard work and initiative.
Great idea.
Pop that in the suggestion box.
Get your overpriced sugar water here! Looks like pee, tastes like crap.
Maybe we shouldn't say, "Tastes like crap.
" Milo, these days you need a slick marketing campaign to succeed.
You don't sell the steak, you sell the sizzle.
Please, not over the bowl.
But you're right.
We need a great name and a catchy slogan.
How about "Supersonic Seltzer"? Well, this batch is ruined.
Step right up, folks.
Don't panic, get Manic.
Easy, Milo.
There's two pounds of sugar in every bottle.
You're pretty hyper as it is.
Thanks for your concern, Helga, but l think l know my limit.
Hey, sir, try some Manic.
lt's the hot new energy drink.
When you're done, your wife can put flowers in the bottle.
Not married? Good-looking guy like you? What do you say, want a bottle? Think about it while l chew on your antenna.
l'm sold.
Everyone loves Manic.
l even sold a bottle to Mrs.
Conway, the diabetic and a six-pack to the paramedics who rushed her to the hospital.
l'm so proud of my little capitalist.
Hey, where are Biff and Chip? The dog's eating their dinner.
They each drank some Manic and now they can't stop jitterbugging.
Today in school l made a macaroni pencil holder.
Maybe tomorrow you can make your daddy a macaroni shattered-dreams holder.
Better yet, hollow out one of these peas so l'll have some place to keep my dignity.
-So how was work today, sweetie? -l found out my career is over.
l'll never be promoted.
Oh, baby, your day will come.
Here, Dad, some Manic will cheer you up.
Here, have some more.
Milo, you're gonna kill him.
Jeez, you're really working fast there, Bob.
Just doing my dead-end job.
Tote that barge.
Lift that bale.
Yes, sir, Mr.
Klimer.
Promotion? No, sir, l don't truck with that.
l just wanna work for the man.
l see you're drinking one of those new energy drinks.
-Mind if l try it? -Go ahead.
l've got a whole case.
Wow! Manic, huh? The name alone makes me feel full of pep and vitality.
Pep and vitality? l've experienced pep, and l've experienced vitality but never have l experienced pep and vitality.
-l like that.
-Can l try some? -Wow, how about me? -What's that? -What happened? -We're done.
We finished today's quota.
l heard a joyous refrain.
What the hell's wrong? We've capped every bottle, sir.
We've turned out enough poison to kill every living thing on the planet.
Sweet.
Let's see those pantywaists down in anthrax pull that off.
-And it's all thanks to Manic.
-Don't panic, get Manic! A sports drink did all this? "Manic", brilliant name.
Love the slogan.
Who makes this? Well, l'll be an unwashed immigrant.
"An Oblong product.
" Oblong, you're a genius.
-What? Oh, no, sir.
You see-- -l was wrong about you.
Maybe you have what it takes to rise above the rest of these morons.
They're getting worse.
Sit down, Bob.
Relax.
Here, have a cigar.
So, what is it you--? Mrs.
Halifax, you know the drill.
Bob, l'll get right to the point.
l want Manic for Globocide.
-Actually, sir, it's not really mine to give.
-You're a cunning negotiator, Bob.
Nads of steel.
Tell you what l'll do you give me Manic, and l'll make you an executive.
An executive? With an office? And responsibility? And a weighted tape dispenser? But you let me take credit with the boys upstairs.
So, what do you say? l say move over, Mrs.
Halifax.
All right.
Here we go, now.
Sweetie, you're getting your butt in the gravy.
l'm just so excited.
l'm white-collar.
l'll have to buy a whole new wardrobe.
How late does Baby Gap stay open? This is so cool.
We're gonna be upper-lower class.
l'll be a magnet for poor chicks.
What a day! Dad gets promoted, and l sell more Manic than ever.
That's right.
You have a sports drink called Manic.
Hey, you know, Globocide is coming out with a sports drink called Manic.
Coincidence? l think not.
l mean, l think so.
-But that'll put me out of business.
-You don't need to sell Manic, son.
l'm quadrupling your allowance.
You can play video games until you're a brain-dead meat puppet.
l love you, Dad! l always knew you'd succeed, dear.
And you did it the old-fashioned way, with hard work and honesty.
-And honesty.
-You said "honesty" twice.
Well, l guess it's because you're so honest.
-My honest Bob.
-l wonder if you could stop saying that.
Me, a valley guy, at the Hill Valley Country Club.
Who'd have thunk it? By the way, you don't celebrate that Yom Kippur, do you? -No, sir.
Why? -Not important.
So, what's your handicap? Well, l don't really think of it as a handicap.
-l mean, what do you shoot? -Oh.
ln the low thousands.
So, Oblong, where did you come up with the idea for Manic? You know, a little spitballing, blue-skying-- -That's a God-awful lie! -What? My ball.
lt bounced off that groundskeeper's skull.
lt's a terrible lie.
Dad, how could you steal my idea? And what is up with those pants? My God, l'm a monster.
Come now, we've all gotten used to it.
Fraud.
Milo.
ldea thief.
l can't take it anymore, Pickles.
The truth must be told.
All right, all right! l'm the one who farted and ruined Christmas.
Mr.
Klimer, l have to talk to you.
Oblong.
Just got the okay to start manufacturing Manic.
l'm the new golden boy.
They named a sandwich after me in the commissary.
That should be my son's sandwich.
Milo, l brought you here to set things right.
l stole your idea for Manic.
l'm sorry.
l just wanted to be a success.
lt's okay, Dad.
They think l created Manic.
Gentlemen, you've been summoned by the board of directors.
Little boy, you created Manic? Sir, this is all my fault.
Please don't blame my son.
Blame him? He may very well be the Corporate Messiah.
-What now? -The Corporate Messiah.
The founder of Globocide, J.
P.
Globo, foretold that he would reincarnate as a skillet-faced child and lead us to record profits.
All this because of Manic? lt's nothing but sugar, Pixie Stix and hummingbird food.
Exactly.
People like Manic because of the label, the name, the slogan.
You're a marketing genius.
A kid of Oblong's? Don't make me laugh.
Because you're so funny, and charming and sexy.
Shut up, Klimer.
My son, the Corporate Messiah? Not so fast.
First he must prove himself by passing the test.
Milo, stop fooling around with the company mascot.
You have a test to take.
Which among these pens was J.
P.
Globo's favorite? This one.
l'm sorry.
lt was this one, the third from the left.
No, wait.
Look.
l told the maid a thousand times, "Don't move the sacred objects.
" Hail, Milo.
Hail, Milo.
Hail, Milo.
Hail, Satan.
Sorry.
Got swept up in the moment.
The Corporate Messiah? lt's true.
He picked the pen, and he's got the skillet head and everything.
lf he thinks we'll treat him differently, he can kiss our three-cheeked ass.
-Yeah, kiss it.
-Kiss it.
Get him down there.
Pucker up.
Boys, stop making the Corporate Messiah kiss your ass.
Okay, whatever.
He's the Corporate Messiah.
-Let's go pick up dinner.
-lt's not quite that simple, dear.
You see, they wanna groom Milo to become CEO.
So they want him to live at corporate headquarters.
What? He's just a little boy.
Our little boy.
l know, but Milo's got a chance to actually make something of himself unlike the rest of this family, who are on a bullet train to Zeroville.
Which, of course, is the last stop before Success Town.
-Bob, l don't want to give Milo away.
-We're not giving him away.
We're giving him a future.
What about it, son? You wanna make me the proudest father in the whole world? -Sure, Dad.
-Attaboy.
You're going to be a great man someday.
Now, go pack your rubber sheet and let's go.
Milo, let me show you your new home.
-Wait, can't we hug him goodbye? -Of course you can.
That's what the rubber arms are for.
-We'll miss you, bro.
-l'll miss you too.
-Kick his ass.
-Time to go.
-We love you, Milo.
-He can't hear you.
l think Milo's suffocating.
Oops, wig in the air duct.
-What are you doing? -Clearing my trophy case for Milo's future awards.
No big deal.
All l had in there was my half-punched ticket from the Dairy Queen Sundae Club.
lf they hadn't closed, you would've had that free topping.
Yeah, but enough of my triumphs.
lt's Milo's day in the sun.
-Prepare to get soaked.
-Yeah, super soaked.
l must have done something to deserve this.
l accept my punishment with quiet dignity.
You're doing it wrong.
Milo always fights back.
Hey, let's go soak Grammy, at least she gurgles and moans.
l miss Milo.
You push a head that big out your birth canal, you're changed for life.
l miss the little diablo too, but we're doing what's best for him.
You're just making it harder on yourself.
Let's get on with the lesson.
Stop fidgeting.
-You're a CEO.
-l'm a CEO with ADD.
Your plant leaked mustard gas into the community and Mike Wallace is outside your door.
Do you A, close the plant, B, launch an investigation -or C, blame it on the foreign guy? -l wanna play with my friends.
Not allowed.
You'll play with Reynolds from Accounting.
-He's under direct orders to be a hoot.
-Hey there, young fella.
-You wanna toss cards into a hat? -l wanna play chariot race.
Now l wanna play Ontor.
You're the evil Vartex.
l must atomize your z-rays.
My crusty old nipple! That's enough.
Reynolds has another play date in Sector D.
Visitor for the Corporate Messiah.
-Mom! -Hi, sweetie.
-How's everything going? -Capital.
Bullish.
ln the black.
-Milo, are you happy here? -Sure.
-l mean, Dad's proud of me, right? -He's always been proud of you.
Even when l locked him in that guitar case? Hey, he got to go to Farm Aid, didn't he? Well, l'm gonna make it up to him.
As soon as l'm CEO, l'm giving Dad -that promotion he's always wanted.
-Time's up.
Milo's due at the big stockholder meeting to kick off the worldwide launch of Manic.
You'll have a blast, Milo.
There'll be an omelet station.
Bye, Mom.
Bob, we have to talk.
Pickles.
Just in time.
The inaugural batch of Manic is coming off the assembly line and all thanks to our son.
Bob, this was a big mistake.
He's a boy.
He should be out doing the things he loves, arguing with the mailbox, eating hair.
You can't get to the top without making some sacrifices.
Don't you get it, Bob? He's living your dream, not his.
That's a big, fat fib.
-What's going on? -New company policy midday karaoke break.
l'm fixing to rap.
That was my suggestion, but it got burned up.
How did they know? Good Lord, Pickles, you're right.
He is doing all this for me.
How could l have been such a fiddly, faddily fool? -Excuse the string of F-words.
-So, what do we do? Pickles, l want you to go home and move my pottery wheel out of Milo's room.
-l'm bringing our boy home.
-Yes! My baby's coming home.
And no more lopsided salad bowls.
l've changed my mind.
l want my son back.
Too late.
You signed him over to us, my burrito-shaped friend.
Oh, Lord, what have l done? -Your presence is not welcome here.
-Activating ejection system.
You haven't heard the last of this! Thank you.
James, they won't give Milo back.
lf only l could convince them he's not a marketing whiz.
Not now, Bob, we've got trouble.
Why is everyone acting so hinky? l thought it was because Roland was singing Hall and Oates -but it's the Manic.
-The Manic? The new stuff coming off the line doesn't work like it's supposed to.
We've all lost that happy feeling.
But it's the same sugar water Milo was making, only in different bottles.
What could be different? Aside from the bottles, of course.
-Do you think it's the bottles? -Do l think what's the bottles? -What's different.
-That's what we're trying to figure out.
Gadzooks! Maybe it has something to do with the bottles.
Kids, you've got to tell me where Milo got the bottles for Manic.
Sorry, that's confidential information for members only.
Fine, l'll become a member.
First, you must go through the traditional initiation.
Careful, l walk with that.
Morphine? So you cleaned these bottles out and filled them with Manic? Exactly, except for the cleaning out part.
Do you realize what this means? Milo's not a marketing genius, He's a drug pusher.
And so, as we prepare to sell this overpriced belly wash -to the gullible of many lands-- -Stop! Stop! l'm coming! Listen to me.
No one is going to buy Manic.
People only liked it because the original batch was full of morphine.
No problem, we'll just add morphine.
Never mind.
Now, for your entertainment, the comedy stylings of Reynolds from Accounting.
So-- Then the boy's not a marketing genius? Nope, l'm just a plain old marginally disturbed kid.
Great.
Now what do we do with him? l have a suggestion.
You could tear up his contract and return him to his family.
Capital idea.
lf only we had a way to get more suggestions like that.
-You could put up a suggestion box.
-l like it.
Let's keep an eye on him.
He's a comer.
-Did you catch his name? -Yep, it was Phil Dorchester.
No, it's Bob Oblong.
Oh, well, l'm sure they heard me.
Dad, l hope l do as well as you when l get into the business world.
Thanks, son.
Morphine.
What a rascal.
BloodLogic [ENGLlSH]