Eat your heart out, Millennium Falcon.
Come on, Bob, you piece of..., faster. Faster!
We're losing it, you slow ass.
Don't yell at me. I'm going as fast as I can.
Oh! That's not good.
Welcome back to the final elimination round
of the galaxy's hottest race across space.
"The Fifty Million Kronig Flaming Colossus. "
Hi, I'm Jack Tackleworthy,
and these two honeys are Trixie and Dixie.
Whoo! Yeah!
Now if you're home watching this in your recliner
with one hand on a brewski and the other hand down your pants,
you might be a grayneck.
I don't mean to offend our mild-mannered alien cousins,
but you know what happens when cousins marry.
They become contestants.
We've narrowed this week's group down to just three.
Leading tonight is Afron Goobie,
flying his spacecraft the Generally.
Not "General Lee," just "Generally. "
I guess the names Roughly, Basically
and Around About were already taken.
Lagging behind Generally is Chode McBlob,
flying his spacecraft Bob.
If Chode wants a chance at glory,
he better find a way to get rid of the junk in the trunk.
What do you say, girls?
Jesus Christ, you heard him. Dump the junk in the trunk.
Captain, I've dumped every useless thing off the ship
to give us the edge.
Don't even think about it, testicle breath.
Chode, maybe it's time you accept defeat.
Never. This is the closest we've ever come
to making the Colossus final and I'm not about to give up now.
You won't have to. The Generally is about
one New York minute from the finish line.
Come on, people, think!
There's got to be something we can do.
Uncle Chode, what if we fire invisible photon rays
at the Generally to slow him down?
But that would be cheating.
You're firing the photon rays, aren't you?
Hmm.
We're coming right down to the finish line.
But what's this? Looks like an upset.
It appears the Generally is generally out of this competition.
So it really is age before beauty.
At least until next week when Chode McBlob
joins our other five finalists
in the space competition
when "The Fifty Million Kronig
Flaming Colossus" continues.
I'm Jack Tackleworthy, and I'll see you at the finish line.
We are the champions! We are the champions!
I guess congratulations are in order.
Thanks, Six, but I couldn't do it alone.
No, you had to cheat.
Hey, I'd sell my third nut to win the "Flaming Colossus. "
Gee, thanks for the visual.
No, you don't understand. This competition means everything to me.
- And it's not about the money. - Huh?
I mean it. I've always come this close
to reaching real fame and fortune my whole life.
I'm not about to let it slip through my fingers
like it always has.
Chode, how do you spell "relief"?
R- o-I-a-i-d-s.
I'm sorry, that's incorrect.
It's a real Cinderella story
as first back rookie Chode McBlob goes long
with five seconds left on the clock, and it's...
Over!
And the nominees for Best Actor in an Animated Series are
Willie the Poo in "Bathroom Humor,"
Buck McNuts in "Buck the Psychopathic Squirrel"
and Chode McBlob in "Tripping the Rift. "
And the Cartoony goes to Willie the Poo!
Whoo-hoo!
See what I mean? I even lost out on the Cartoony to a piece of crap.
That's why this race is so important to me.
Aw, Chode, that's sweet.
Six, just once in my lifetime I wanna taste that kind of victory.
Yeah, well, your soup du jour is the agony of defeat.
Oprah's been pushing this book. It says you can get anything you want
in life just by visualizing it.
- You hear that, Bob? - Aye-aye, Captain, I'll try my best.
Ha! Losers always whine about their best.
There's no shame in coming in last.
We're not coming in last. There's no reason Bob can't take us to victory.
Uh, I can think of one, Uncle Chode.
This time next week the galaxy's biggest competition
will be underway and oddsmakers predict a win
for Desmond Dietrich and his ship the Sonic Boom.
Dietrich claims his aeronautical design
is not only three times faster than the speed of light,
but also gets over 50 miles a gallon city,
90 highway.
Whoa! Look at that hotrod.
I know, and his ship isn't bad either.
Big deal. It's gonna take a lot more
than some fancy jargon and fiery decals to scare us.
Right, Bob? Bob?
I think my main thruster just shrunk three inches.
- I want it. - Hey, you beautiful people.
How are you doing?
A-1, buddy, A-1.
I can tell you're a man of taste and sophistication.
Yeah, and I can tell you're a first-class bullshit artist
looking for a fat commission.
Don't mind her. She was raised by a rabid pack of hyenas.
No sweat, no sweat.
I like someone who says
what's on its mind.
If you see anything you like,
I can offer you some creative "feenance" packages.
Is it "feenance" or finance?
That first one sounds fancier,
like you're not about to get boned by a balloon payment.
And I don't wanna spend more than 500,000 kronigs.
I hear you, brother!
Perhaps you'd like to step into my office.
- So we got a deal? - No, you didn't tell me
you had a bankruptcy on your credit report.
Yeah, but that was, like, six weeks ago.
Please, you gotta help me. I gotta win that race.
I'll do anything. Have a heart.
I'm a used-car salesman, hello!
That's it. We're finished.
You know, Uncle Chode, instead of getting a new ship,
maybe all we need to do is retrofit Bob.
Whip, this is gonna take a lot more than a wax job
and a can of That New Ship Smell.
I got a friend... Sergio. He's got a chop shop.
- I don't believe it. - It's true. It's in the barrio.
No, that you've got a friend.
Sergio, chop shop, barrio?
Why do I get the sense we're dealing with an illegal operation?
Chode, if you're planning to go through with this crazy idea,
don't you think you owe it to Bob to tell him first?
Tch! Are you ever gonna tell me where your "off" switch is?
So you see, Bob, in order to win the race,
we have to give you a little makeover.
Makeover, why?
Because I've never been so close to winning 50 million kronigs before...
I thought you said it wasn't about the money.
And a victory of this kind.
Captain, I may not be state of the art,
but I thought you appreciated me for what I am.
I do, but take Six.
I appreciate her for who she is:
Gigantic boobs, an ass that goes on forever
and great in the sack. But if she looked like a dog,
do you think I'd put up with her cutting remarks and annoying conscience?
- Well, I... - Of course not.
And right now when it comes to speed, you're a dog.
Bob, let's face it. Everyone can use a bit of improvement at some point.
I'm thinking of someone right now.
Are you sure all that... is gonna win the race for me?
ˇAy cabrón! Just wait till I show you how my homeys juiced up the inside.
Let me guess, a pair of fuzzy dice
hanging off the rearview mirror.
When the McBlobs came to us,
he and his ship were in sad shape.
But with a little help from my interior designer Pedro
and my main engineer Javier,
we were determined to get his ship together.
So what do you think?
It looks like Ugly Betty exploded all over this place.
- I like it. - Listen to what you got under the hood.
Double-turbo main warp thrusters capable
of speeds up to five times the speed of light.
Five times? I thought the record was three.
You stand corrected, but rest assured,
there's nary a ship in the galaxy as fast as me.
Bob, is that you?
I detect surprise in your vocal patterns, Six.
Perhaps I can explain. Master Sergio upgraded my virtual memory.
So from now on, you're gonna sound like
someone shoved a dictionary up your ass?
Precisely. I'm faster, stronger and smarter
than any ship in the galaxy.
And an ego to go with it, I see.
It's a side effect from all the virtual improvements.
See, Bob just doesn't believe he's unstoppable.
He is unstoppable.
You hear that, Six? I smell victory in the air.
But for some reason
it seems to smell like refried beans.
Chode, how are we going to afford all this?
Relax, we're golden. I found ourselves a sponsor.
What do you think? Before you respond,
Pucker Up not only paid for everything,
but they're gonna pay us another hundred grand after we win the race.
To be divided equally among the crew.
I love it, Captain.
It makes you look dashing, studly,
dare I say it, like a real winner.
Pardon me, Captain.
Aperitifs and hors d'oeuvres are being served on the Lido Deck.
I think that's French for booze and pretzels in the mess hall, gang.
You're all invited to my pre-victory party.
Whoo-hoo, yeah!
Please stand by for system reset
in three, two, one.
System fully restored.
Behind me stands the six fastest contestants
for the galaxy's ultimate competition.
This is "The Fifty Million Kronig
Flaming Colossus"!
Chode, you started out this race sorrier
than a grayneck in a Winnebago without a beer.
How did you manage to turn it all around?
All it took was an attitude adjustment
and a little makeover courtesy of my friends
at Pucker Up hemorrhoid ointment.
Now in three flavors, including scratch 'n' sniff.
Well, I'll say this for you,
you're bringing a winning attitude of a real champion.
Hey, didn't you used to be...
I can't take looking at that goofy-ass grin.
Whip, turn it off.
- Ow! - I'm not done watching.
Okay, Bob, you didn't have to shock me.
What's with the 'tude, dude?
The race starts in less than 30 minutes.
You think maybe it would be a good idea
if I knew about my competition, dude?
There's no reason to resort to sarcasm, Bob. That's my job.
In that case, what's T'nuk bringing to the table,
other than an insatiable appetite
and an inability to remember to flush the toilet?
Oh, wait, this is where funbags chimes in with her 2˘.
What are you laughing at, fembot?
Richard Simmons just called. He said it's time you butch it up.
Who put the stick up his ass?
Think maybe he's having a reaction to all the upgrades?
- It's possible. - So how do we figure out a way
to dial down the Don Rickles?
I can hear you!
It's one thing to be surrounded by idiots,
but do I really have to hear you speak?
Isn't it time for my meat puppets to get ready for the race?
Why you!
You're right, Bob.
Just make sure whatever you put on has some nipple-age action.
I could use some eye candy.
Do me a favor. Run a system check.
Hey there, hot stuff. I just want to apologize
- for my snarky attitude before. - Bob, what are you doing here?
I thought I'd shut down video communication in my bedroom.
You did. I turned it back on.
- Where's Chode? - Up on the bridge.
But I don't wanna talk about him. I wanna talk about us.
Us? Bob, there is no us.
There could be. What are you doing after the race?
I know this hotspot just east of the Crab Nebula.
That's never gonna happen, Bob.
- Give me one reason why not. - Ugh!
Oh, I see what your little plan is.
You're gonna get rid of me after the race.
If there was something wrong with Bob, don't you think I'd know about it?
He's been acting really strange, Chode.
He called us his meat puppets.
Yeah, yeah, big whoop. I call you my meat puppets.
I think a virus might have infected him, Uncle Chode.
He locked me out when I was doing a system check.
Pardon me, Captain. In your absence, I felt it was
only appropriate that I perform the system check,
given the fact that I'm the only one familiar with the complexities
- of the new software. - See?
Welcome, racers,
to "The Fifty Million Kronig Flaming Colossus. "
Y'all know the parameters.
The first ship to cross the line at the Andromeda Vector
wins the competition.
Gentlemen, start your engines.
Chode, can we please talk about this?
Guess not.
It's been three hours and so far Chode McBlob
has taken a commanding lead.
If his ship maintains this speed,
victory will be in his hands.
- Go, Chode! Go, Chode! - Go, Chode! Go, Chode!
Uh-oh, something appears to be wrong.
McBlob's spacecraft has taken a sudden turn off-course
into the Mondavi Galaxy.
What's going on?
I don't know, Uncle Chode. I told you, Bob locked me out of the system.
Well, I'm sure Bob has a perfectly good explanation
for this diversion. Probably a shortcut.
Guess again, fatboy.
Okay, you're just trying to keep the race competitive?
How about I've set the ship's coordinates on a collision course
- with a brown dwarf. - Like that kid from "Webster"?
No, you imbecile. It's a dark star,
filled with nuclear energy.
Once we pierce its gravitational field,
the radiation will eviscerate every living thing inside my hull.
And that's not a good thing, right?
- No. - Now can we talk about this?
Yeah.
It's no use, Captain. I'm in control now.
And I'm about to turn up the heat.
Yeah, I kinda figured that out when you set us on a death course.
No, I mean literally.
I set the ship's thermostat for 110° Fahrenheit.
Why would you do that?
I don't know. Hey, Six, are you getting sweaty
under that leather outfit of yours?
You could always remove it.
Hey, brainiac, I'm a cyborg.
Cyborgs don't sweat.
Damn! Never mind.
It won't be long before you're nothing
but pillars of space dust and I'm free of you forever.
We're all going to die. We're all going to die!
Pull yourself together, Fairy Manilow. We just need to figure this out.
This is your captain speaking. You all can put your tray tables up
and seats in their upright position as you'll all be reaching
your final destination in less than five minutes.
Ow, my eye!
Okay, I need ideas.
Give it up, people. 10 minutes, you'll all resemble Melba toast.
Shut up, Bob! Whip, is there any way
you could shut down Bob's mainframe?
It's possible, but I'd have to get to it
by crawling through the ship's bowels, and it's gonna be a tight fit.
Ship's bowels, tight fit,
take Gus with you. It sounds like a job for the tin fairy.
- What are you doing? - Putting on protection.
What if this doesn't work, Chode?
Then there's always plan B.
Which is?
You stand in the corner with your eyes closed,
while I pound Six's hot muffin until the big kaboom.
Oh, really? Just try to get wood with me in the room,
- you purple moron! - Eww!
Really, Whip? Do you actually think
you're clever enough to outsmart me?
Don't underestimate the power of will, Bob.
I wouldn't count us out just yet.
Huh?
Which one of us rocket scientists decided
to bring matches instead of flashlights?
The batteries were dead.
- Oh! - I don't know what's worse.
The heat or T'nuk's smelly pits.
Come on, Bob. We're dying here.
If you're gonna kill us, kill us. At least turn on the AC.
It's too hot for you, is that it?
In that case...
Why are you doing this, Bob?
I don't care what kind of virus infected your system.
The Bob I know would only wanna please us.
Tell you what. You got three minutes until implosion.
Any last requests?
Yeah, could you stop and let us off?
Make that 90 seconds of life.
90 seconds, Six. You know what this means.
Will you put that away?
I want you to try something.
Are you crazy?
Oh! It's freezing in here, Bob.
Think you could turn up the heat?
Chill out, bitch!
Wow! "Vagina Monologue" here was right.
Will someone please tell me what's going on?
It seems the infected Bob does the exact opposite
of whatever we want.
Now maybe if we pretend we wanna die, he'll let us live.
What the hell? It worked for George Costanza on "Seinfeld. "
I wanna die. You hear me, Bob?
Kill me now!
And if your theory's wrong, there's always an upside.
Yes, my miserable existence
with this selfish pencil... loser
is finally coming to an end.
Easy, Six, you don't have to oversell it.
I command you, Bob, to stay on course
with the brown dwarf. Do not pull out.
I repeat, do not pull out!
It worked.
Okay, Bob, this is your captain speaking,
listen to me very carefully.
I wanna lose that race. Do you understand?
I want you to say a million light-years
from that finish line.
Looks like the Sonic Boom has this race all but wrapped up,
as he glides into the final stretch. What's this?
My producers have told me Chode McBlob is coming up from behind.
Incredible!
Snip the red wire. It controls Bob's internal functions.
- Are you sure? - Pretty sure,
but right now we really don't have much of an option. Snip it.
Here goes nothing.
Oh!
What's going on?
You did it, Whip. You saved the day.
- What just happened? - You're a capital "L" loser once again,
crap sack.
I'm serious. I've never seen
a more pathetic display than I have today.
This is one of those moments in life
Chode's gonna have to live over again and again!
But let's hear it for Desmond Dietrich
and his Sonic Boom. Yee-haw!
Oh, no!
What's going on?
The ass-cream people repossessed all of our upgrades.
- Thanks, Bob. - I told you.
If you think I'm gonna apologize, forget it.
If you hadn't tried to turn me into something I'm not,
- all this would never have happened. - Hey, Bob, you sound a lot better.
Good news. Bob's back to his same incompetent self.
Yeah, I finally got rid of the last of that virus.
Bad news. We're gonna be eating leftover frijoles
until the summer...
- Oops, sorry. - Give one to Bob.
You know what they say.
Feed a cold, starve a failure.
I'm sorry, Chode. I know how much this competition meant to you.
Hey, Uncle Chode, check this out.
I submitted the footage from "The Flaming Colossus"
- to this new game show. - And the winner
of the season finale of the "Galaxy's Biggest Loser"
- is Chode McBlob! - Wow!
You really are unbelievable.
Even when you win, you lose.
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