[bell tolls]
[brassy detective music]
- Hit it. - ♪ Hey-oh, yah, hah ♪
- ♪ Oh, hey-oh ♪ - Yeah.
- ♪ Hey-oh ♪ - ♪ Yeah, oh-hey-oh ♪
[camera shutter clicks]
Cute and cuddly, boys.
[dramatic whistling music]
[brassy detective music]
Punch it, Private.
[engine roars]
[motor whining]
[cricket chirping]
[gasps]
[tires screeching]
Private, what was that?
You could have broken the track record.
[cricket chirps]
Oh, you're welcome, little guy.
Sorry, Skipper.
I guess nice guys really do finish last.
Yep, that's just nature's way, young Private.
Yee-haw!
Hole in one!
- Intruder alert! - Mister, I ain't no intruder.
I am The Amarillo Kid.
Should I know you?
Only if your name is Mr. Tux.
Ooh.
Kowalski, my alias portfolio.
Let's see.
There's Two-Bit Hood Jack the Knife,
International Play Bird Diego Garcia,
wealthy industrialist Lincoln Douglas.
I'm not seeing a Mr. Tux here, Skipper.
Perhaps it was the time
I woke up in that Kyoto hotel room
on a bed of counterfeit Deutsche marks.
I'm Mr. Tux.
[dramatic showdown music]
[chuckles] Oh, yeah.
Well, thanks, young Private.
I think I got this.
Ha!
Well, Mr. Tux, been a long time,
longer than a yellow snake in a bowl of red bean chili.
What?
See, Mr. Tux and me,
we have some unfinished business.
Our Private?
Your business is all finished, isn't it, Private?
No, Skipper, The Amarillo Kid and I
have been on a collision course for a long, long time.
Yeah, that's right.
Longer than a yellow--
Zip it, Kid.
You're wasting your breath.
I'm a different man now.
Man?
But Private's so private-y.
What's this about?
Mr. Tux knows what it's about.
I told you. Never again.
Never say never,
unless it's when you're saying never to say never.
[chuckles]
Armadillos are all just whacked out
from the scorching desert heat.
Well, Private,
what an unexpected dimension this adds to your character.
Yeah. That's--
I don't like it. I like my men one-dimensional.
Works better for me.
Huh? Oh.
Sorry, Skipper.
I was young and foolish.
[sputters]
Sorry. Went down the wrong esophagus.
Here's what we got.
Two eggs, two flapjacks, two strips of bacon,
one smiley face.
Might make you change your mind.
What do you say, Mr. Tux?
Mr. Tux left nothing but a trail of broken hearts
and shattered dreams.
Tell you what. You sure shattered my dreams,
like a big old china plate of dreams.
No, I will not play your cursed game, Amarillo Kid.
Well, we'll just see
about that dramatic pronouncement and such, Mr. Tux.
What does he mean, "game"?
It was brutal combat, Skipper,
and I was the best,
but I walked away before it destroyed me.
Uh, guys?
I think you're gonna want to get out here.
[snorting laughter]
[applause]
Hey, what's the deal?
I'm just warming up on the locals
before I whup Mr. Tux.
Wait.
You mean the brutal combat was...
Mini golf.
[sputters]
Sorry again.
I thought he said mini golf.
No, that's right. Miniature golf.
[sputters]
With the windmills and the neon-colored balls
and the little pencil-y things?
[chuckles]
Oh, you bet you.
Now, if you don't mind,
watch me sink this putt.
Ah, he's made this interesting.
Everybody be interested.
Made it interesting?
You mean you're betting this nut ball?
Technically, I'm losing everything to this nut ball.
But I can't let that distract me from my game.
Julien, he's hustling you.
Oh, really?
Well, what makes you think so?
Look out, clown's mouth.
[clown giggling]
[bells dinging]
I don't know.
Call it a hunch.
Not to worry.
I have already doubled down,
so all I need to do is make this shot.
Doubled down?
But what have you got left to bet?
Nothing that is too valuable,
only my loyalest subjects.
Yippee!
Look, this isn't fair, kid.
That shot is impossible.
Impossible for him, maybe,
but not for Mr. Tux.
I think I might stuff 'em
and put them next to my jackalope,
maybe put little antlers on them too,
call 'em lemurlopes.
Wait!
- [clown giggling] - [bells dinging]
[applause]
[gasps]
[metal clangs]
I swore.
I swore I would never, ever, ever
play that infernal game again.
[sputters]
Okay, my bad.
I really should just put this mug down.
Private, what could be so infernal about mini golf?
[sputters]
No, it wasn't the game.
It's what it did to me.
[bird screeching]
I started playing for fun.
But I was good.
I was too good.
Pretty soon, every young punk
who thought he could hit a straight putt
came looking for me.
And then one day,
a young Armadillo was playing me tough.
[ball whooshes]
[fan squeaking]
And I started to worry
that for the first time, I might lose.
So I did the unthinkable.
[Whoosh]
[splats]
I just walked away.
[sighs]
So you quit the game?
Yes, forever.
Over an ice cream cone?
It was a double scoop.
Couldn't you just buy the girl another ice cream?
It wasn't just the ice cream. It was me.
The pressure of the competition was making me tart and churlish
and yes, I'll admit it, at times, even a bit snippety.
Well, Private, as utterly ridiculous
as that sounds to all of us,
we're behind you 100%.
[banging at door]
You know what I'm here for.
Sorry, Armadillo.
Mr. Tux is retired, permanently.
Don't make me take Rico off his leash.
[grunts]
I got a date with destiny, mister.
You don't mess with destiny or Texas.
- Both-- - [door slams]
[over loudspeaker] What do you say, Mr. Tux?
Fancy a little game?
I warned you, Kid.
Rico, find the Armadillo.
Do something horrific.
Oh, yes.
Self-destruct sequence initiated.
[electronic beeping]
Our thermo fusion reactor.
[buttons beeping]
Yeah, about that,
I took the liberty of changing the deactivation code.
[chuckles]
So no one gets out of here
until I've had my game with Mr. Tux.
- [beep] - [gates slamming]
You think you can manually override
the self-destruct sequence?
Probably not.
Private, I know you swore never to play again...
If he wants Mr. Tux,
I'll give him Mr. Tux.
Now, you go get him, Private.
We all believe in you.
[all screaming]
Live from the Central Park Zoo
in, you know, Central Park.
Hello, and welcome to the Zoo-sters Cup.
I will be your whispery announcer guy.
You're gonna give me your best game, Mr. Tux,
or this whole animal farm won't be worth more
than a toothless sidewinder on Easter Sunday.
And the trash talk is inscrutable.
He's gonna blow up the zoo?
Ooh! High stakes!
Exciting!
Shh! They're about to tee off.
Quiet in the gallery!
The instruction manual is around here somewhere.
I know it.
Here we go. Got it.
No, wait. This is for the microwave.
Ooh, we have a popcorn setting.
[chuckles]
[applause]
Yee-haw!
Press and hold the start button
for five seconds, then toggle--
I'm pressing the start button!
That's the menu button.
Oh, well, which one is it?
And so our two mini golf gladiators
enter the final hole all tied up,
not like in ropes but, you know, like in scores.
A hush fall over the crowd, and I--
oh, am I right in the way here, a little bit?
[papers rustling]
[sputters]
It was worth a try.
[ball whooshes]
You hit that shot, and you beat me, Mr. Tux.
I guess you best not miss.
Count on it.
[air hisses]
Oopsie.
[chuckles]
- Hey, what was that? - No fair!
I decide what's fair.
And Mr. Tux needs to sink that shot.
Private,
I know I throw the encouragement around like candy.
This time, I mean it,
because I have no choice.
Wait. What is he doing?
But that's the opposite direction.
Here we go.
For the match and the bragger's rights.
And all of our lives.
I can't watch!
But I must peek.
[suspenseful music]
[giggles]
It's all over!
I'm the best. I told you.
I'm fancier than a peacock in a crow flock. Yee-haw!
No, kid, you might want to take back that yee-haw.
Huh? What the--
[all cheering]
[electronic beep]
He did it!
And the stinky penguin wins!
Yay for the Private in the bow tie.
Well, Kid, you wanted my best game.
How's it taste?
Like a tall glass of loser?
[gulps] Kind of.
Nice job, young Mr. Tux.
That last shot, I mean, wow.
The ball had totally stopped.
How did you do it, Private?
Well, let's just say
nice guys don't always finish last.
[cricket chirping]
[dramatic instrumental music]
[laughing]
That's--[laughs] Classic!
All right, then, Skipper?
At ease, Private.
I was laughing at a little joke in the mission files.
[laughs]
Is it a funny one?
Oh, yeah.
Ooh, can I see it, then?
Classified.
What's classified?
[laughs]
Oh, classic!
What? Why does Kowalski get to see it?
Well, he's got top secret clearance.
We can't go showing our classified material
to just anybody.
Rico, you got to see this!
[laughs]
That's classic! That's classic!
Rico too? How's that fair?
Sorry, Private.
But some files are too private for a Private.
Well, then perhaps it's time I got a promotion.
- [gasps] - Uh-uh.
Let the promotion test begin.
Um, what test?
Tonight, you go mano a mano
with the most fearsome beast in the concrete jungle.
A badger?
Exactly--what?
No, not a badger.
It's a secret, okay?
Mysterious and deadly secret.
He doesn't know what he's saying.
Give the boy a chance to back out.
Ah, there are no take-backs in this unit.
Rico, hit the snooze.
Blah.
[explodes]
[gas hissing]
[whimpers]
[groans]
[screams]
Stay frosty, Private.
The mystery beast can smell your fear.
So can I.
[sniffing]
That is fear, right?
[straining]
And I'm supposed to fight this secret beast
taped to a dumpster, am I?
No, Rico just thought that would be fun.
[chuckles]
[yelps]
[grunts]
What's this?
The concrete jungle survival guide.
Audiobook version.
[over radio] So you're about to face a beast
more horrible than your worst nightmare.
Congratulations, random listener.
Let's work on that.
Wait.
Does this mean you're not coming with me?
Well, this is your promotion test, Private.
No backup. No supplies.
You don't even get to know where you are.
I know where we are.
I drawed a map on the way.
You did not.
That's a kiddie menu you found in the gutter.
I live in the hamburger.
What in the name of Custer's muster?
Bah!
Oh, yes, we're here for the camping-out party.
I got my booty all warmed up
for the banjo sing-along campfire dancing.
Check it out. Yeah.
Yeah, keep checking.
This ain't no campout, ringtail.
Yeah?
Then how come you got the fireplug poncho
and a dress made out of artsy-craft supplies?
- Hey! - This is standard-issue
urban jungle camouflage.
Uh-huh.
So who wants to sing the Kumbayas
till the sun comes up?
No Kumbayas.
This is penguin versus nature.
Private's lucky if he lives to see another sunrise.
Sorry?
It's a rite of passage, Private.
If everybody survived, it would be a, uh...
Kowalski, clever turn of phrase options?
A wrong of passage.
[rimshot]
Fine. See if I care.
But you will miss some happy camping, my friend.
27 minutes to midnight, Private.
You better play that tape
before the beast goes on the prowl.
[gulps]
Less than half an hour?
How am I supposed to--
[wind whistling]
[gulps]
Key one to defeating the beast:
surveillance.
Binoculars, anything to track your enemy's movements.
Ooh. Aha.
Instant telescope.
- [screams] - Thank you, dumpy penguin.
You see, mort, in camping,
you can build a fire
with nothing but a pirate looky tube.
Don't you need sunlight for that?
Why would I need sunlight to do this?
Make fire now, you looky tube!
This one's defective.
Key two: camouflage.
If the beast can't see you,
he can't hurt you.
Okay, how did Rico make his newspaper disguise?
Artsy-craft supplies!
What are you doing?
[chuckles] Check it out.
King Julien crossing the Delaware...
Avenue, right?
[whimpers]
Key three: weapons.
You need some.
Well, obviously!
And that's a whip.
Or I could make a bow and arrow.
- [ping] - Banjo string!
all: ♪ Julien is the king of the ocean ♪
Stay on key, Mort.
Will you stop that?
I need that string!
It's nearly midnight,
and I've got to face some horrible--
- Private. - [screams]
This is how you prepare
for the fight of your life?
No! I w-w-wasn't!
Kowalski, commandeer that banjo.
Ready or not, Private,
it's time to meet the enemy.
And since you like banjo music so much,
we're gonna do it in song.
[dramatic banjo music]
♪ Pull up a seat and set a spell ♪
♪ While this spooky tale I relate ♪
♪ About the meanest mess of steel and wheels ♪
♪ Man ever did create ♪
♪ The bus called Graveyard Eight ♪
[gags]
Ooh.
♪ Runs midnight to dawn, no driver inside ♪
♪ Fueled by evil incarnate ♪
♪ Never slowing down as it prowls the town ♪
♪ Plowing animals down to their fate ♪
♪ Better run from Graveyard Eight ♪
Look out!
Whoa!
♪ So hear and fear and keep the kids clear ♪
♪ Of this express to the pearly gates ♪
It got two of my uncles and six of my cousins,
and they were all from upstate.
True story.
both: ♪ The bus called Graveyard Eight ♪
Yah! [whip cracks]
So the bus is haunted,
and you want me to fight it.
A bus?
And come home with a nifty souvenir to prove it.
That'll put some feathers on your chest, eh?
Um, I don't think I care
about that classified joke anymore.
Good hunting, Private.
If all goes well,
we'll see you alive at dawn,
of course, with the prementioned souvenir in hand.
And if not, well...[sobs]
You'll be--you'll be fine.
B-but I'm not ready!
[whimpers]
Any more advice, survival guide audiobook?
This recording will self-destruct right now.
[roars]
Good luck.
Here, bus.
Here, bussy, bussy.
Please be a nice haunted bus.
[screams]
I caught a wall! Yay!
What are you doing in the street?
Obviously we are sewer fishing, duh.
But the Graveyard Eight.
Uh, grape jar... what now?
The haunted bus that runs over animals.
Mm, never heard of it.
Perhaps if you gave it a catchy jingle
or perhaps a theme song.
Look out!
Shh. I'm in my fishing zone.
Really?
'Cause I'm not catching jack-a-doodley
with this worthless fish stick.
[yelps]
[laughs]
I have caught something!
[all scream]
No. This is your test, Private.
[all screaming]
[grunts]
[yelps]
Ooh, whoo, ah!
[screams]
[thud]
Yes! Ooh!
all: Help!
Hang on.
I think I can get you free.
No, no. I know this camp time activity.
Only way to untangle is to work as a team.
So everybody shut it.
And I will be the team.
[screaming]
[straining]
Oh, the foot is in my face.
[chuckles] I did it.
Goody for you.
We just need something to cut the line.
Just hang on. I'll be back.
[grunts]
[ding]
[growling voice] 5th Avenue.
Washington Square.
[gasps]
No driver.
I know. Spooky, right?
[both screaming]
[chuckles]
I thought this was where
we steal the other camp's mascot.
What? Are you completely--
we are not camping!
Oh, ho!
Somebody's working
on his sourpuss grumpy grouch activity patch.
[chuckles]
It's you, by the way.
[groans]
Just find something sharp and pointy
to cut the fishing line.
Sharp, pointy, perfect.
[metal squeaking]
[screams]
[chuckles]
Lucky day!
I found us something sharp and pointy.
I win!
[yelps]
[shouting]
Oh.
We have to hurry, Julien,
before the Graveyard Eight claims Maurice and Mort forever.
And yet here you are talking, talking, talking
and doing nothing, nothing, nothing.
Well, there's still one part of the bus
I haven't searched yet.
[ding]
7th Avenue.
Ooh.
[steering wheel squeaking]
[whimpers]
Yah-ha!
Ooh!
No pets on the bus.
Ooh!
[screams]
[tires squealing]
[yelping]
[laughs]
Again, again!
[whimpers]
Sharp and pointy.
Off!
- Whoa! - Come on!
I love camping!
Jump!
[tires squeal]
Hooray for the Private!
Amazing!
Yeah, that was pretty good.
Kowalski, promotion analysis.
Private risked his own safety
to free helpless captives from a demonic bus.
That's plus 17 points.
They were all lemurs. Minus 20.
But he did bring back one primo souvenir.
Well, congratulations, young Private.
You've been promoted to private...
first class.
- Yippee! - Way to go!
Of course, we'll still call you Private.
First class is implied.
Enjoy your classified joke access.
[giggles]
Ooh.
Mm?
Yeah, I don't get it.
[brassy detective music]