[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.
[ominous spy music]
♪ ♪
[rooster crows]
This is it, men.
Although I can't read,
I am certain this postcard is the call to arms
we've been waiting for.
We just need the chimps to confirm.
Confirm nothing, Kowalski!
I can feel it in my gut.
Do you doubt my gut? This gut here?
Do you? Gut doubter?
No, skipper. No!
You know I have the utmost respect for your gut.
Right, and my gut says this is it.
Farmageddon.
Rico, weapons.
[laughing maniacally]
Bring it on!
Whoo!
It says Private's Uncle Nigel
is coming for a visit.
Uncle Nigel? Oh, joy.
Oh.
- [explosion] - My car!
So I was on the hunt for a rare rough-fruited buttercup.
- It's a flower. - Oh.
Circled the globe twice over,
only to find the tricky devil
right there in my own cottage garden.
Dear me.
[laughing]
Wait. What?
Oh, Uncle Nigel, another smashing story.
I'm so glad you found the time to visit.
Well, it was nothing but a skip across the pond.
Well worth it for my favorite nephew.
I had such a doily when I was a lad...
hand-knitted a tea cozy...
hairpin lace doily...
Doilies, doilies, doilies.
We need a distraction.
I am on it.
[humming]
[cuckoo chirping]
[alarm blaring]
Well, how about that?
I seem to have sent the power core into overload.
Clumsy me.
Really, Kowalski?
That's your distraction?
It was the first thing that came to mind.
Distraction?
Nothing, Private. Nothing at all.
Come on, men. Let's go have some fun
with antimatter rods.
Whoo-hoo!
Rightio, lads.
We best get on the--whoa!
No, no, Nigel. Stay with Private,
and tell him more of those delightfully stupefying stories.
All right, then, I shall,
Tell them all. Get them out of your system.
Please.
So just when I thought I'd found the perfect doily...
Right. They're gone.
Now I can proceed with my true mission.
Mission?
Hush, hush, boy.
High probability of dicey.
Dicey?
Uncle Nigel, what are you talking about?
The old spy game.
Why, surely you've suspected.
[gasps] You're a spy?
- Ow! - Well, of course,
Auntie Polly with Colin Beggar
absolutely refused to--
of course I'm a spy, lad.
- What is that? - Ooh,
just a little something the boys in the lab whipped up.
Then Cousin Dickey and Aunt--
ah, my target is indeed somewhere in this Central Park.
But you can't be a spy.
The buttercups, the knitting, the doilies.
Rubbish for the ruse, boy,
the trappings of the deep cover life.
By the by, compliments on your own cover, Private.
No one would ever suspect you
to be anything but a hopeless nancy cat.
I mean, look at this bit of stuff and nonsense.
Brilliant!
And bright.
All--all part of my cover.
[giggles nervously]
[screaming]
Teacups, crumpets, Battenberg.
Right.
Now, my target is the vilest of vermin:
The Red Squirrel.
The Red Squirrel?
[laughing]
Uncle Nigel, there is no Red Squirrel.
He's just a myth.
He's a tricky customer, sure enough.
50 years unseen by any and all.
But that's about to change.
Quickly, lad. A game's afoot.
Uncle Nigel, please.
The Red Squirrel is a fairy tale.
Pay attention, because I'm only going to say this once--
unless, of course, at my discretion
I choose to repeat it.
The Red Squirrel is real.
Uncle Nigel, that's impossible,
because he doesn't exist.
[ground rumbling]
[siren blaring]
But how? I don't-- I can't--
Who's a brave soldier?
You disarm the missile.
I've got an engagement
withsciurus vulgaris.
What an agent, Nigel.
I'm impressed.
Ah!
The sun!
All those years underground,
I got the light sensitivity, and I got it bad.
The Red Squirrel is real? Really real? Really?
Lad, don't make me beak-slap you again.
Right.
Shall we, Red?
[whimpering]
What's your nefarious plan this time?
The toxin in that missile will make acorns grow so large,
they will destroy all other plant life.
[laughing]
50 years planning, and you come up with that?
I like acorns.
A lot!
- Hi-yah! - Ooh!
Oh, yes.
Oh, dear.
Surrender, Red.
Sorry, Agent Nigel,
but I have a previously scheduled launch date.
[laughing]
Oh, nasty place for that launch button.
Private! Get off of there, lad!
No, I can--
Ah!
Ooh! Ow!
Ooh!
Throwing yourself into the bowels
of the beast. Gusty move.
And--and a completely intentional one too.
Totally not an accident.
50 years of my life--kaput!
You birds are so annoying.
But The Red Squirrel will rise again.
Blast.
Guys, guys, guys, you won't believe it.
Uncle Nigel and I fought The Red Squirrel.
You called it, Private. I don't believe it.
The scenario seems unlikely,
given The Red Squirrel's lack of existence
and Uncle Nigel's--
Ah!
Dear. Crushed my crumpet.
Um, that.
No, Uncle Nigel, tell them
about The Red Squirrel.
It's okay. You can trust them.
He's really a dashing and not at all daffy spy.
Yeah... right.
[laughing] Oh, my boy. Are you having a laugh?
Good show.
Oh, I can't say I understand it.
Perhaps we can decipher it all over a cupper and biscuits.
Private, would you mind?
What?
Fine.
That boy and his imagination.
Tall tales and short stories, eh?
Hmm. [ticking]
No!
Ooh!
Uh, what--what happened?
I am what happened--
The Red Squirrel.
Impossible. You don't exist.
Right. You go on thinking that.
Meanwhile, I've incapacitated
the world's greatest penguin agent,
and now there is no one who can possibly stop my mad plans.
[laughing maniacally]
I may be locked up, Red,
but I'm hardly incapacitated.
Who is talking about you?
I am speaking of super-secret Agent Nigel.
What?
Secret agent? Me?
You've got the wrong fellow, old bean.
Guess the ruse is up.
Oh, well, had a good run.
You? You actually are
a super-secret agent?
Hello. Welcome to the show.
You're late, but we saved you a seat.
I guess we owe Private an apology.
I'd rather it was cash.
Private?
Had some trouble with the kettle, but--
hello?
[gasps] Oh, no.
No matter.
This private penguin,
he is bumble-headed ninny.
He is nothing.
Huh. The old rube has fallen for it.
He actually believes Private's nancy cat front.
Um... ooh.
Oh, Princess Self-Repectra, what do I do?
How can I possibly stop Red Squirrel all by myself?
- [squeaks] - Hang about?
Where is that trapdoor?
Maybe it was this one
or this one.
I thought for sure it was one of these--
ooh!
Ooh.
Ugh!
Oh.
Here comes our rescue, boys.
[laughing] Is this how you come to fight, with a toy?
Yes. Yes, it is.
Brilliant!
Even in the heat of battle,
he's a complete fancy pants.
Dedication to a cover story, that's what that is.
[chuckles nervously] Yeah.
Ah!
Yah! Yah!
You realize how ridiculous you look with your horned pony?
You're just jealous I have a Lunacorn and you don't.
What? Of course not.
It is soft and weak, like you.
Jealous.
Ooh!
I am not jealous.
In fact, I am going to rip it apart right before your eyes.
Actually, it was your eye I was thinking about.
What do you mean by--
ah!
So bright.
Top-notch work, Private.
Ah!
Well, Red.
Shall we finish this?
Another time, sodo svidaniya.
[beeps]
Nuts. That squirrelly son of a gun has slipped away.
Yes, but we've seized his secret base.
[alarm blaring]
Which is apparently set to self-destruct.
[explosion]
- Ooh! Again! Again! - Sorry, Rico.
An evil lair can only self-destruct once.
Oh, man.
Thanks for the hospitality, chaps.
I'll let everyone at HQ know what a bang-up job you all did.
Especially you, Private.
You almost had me convinced
you were a plush-hugging twirl-about.
Well, you know, the funny thing about that is,
- Private actually is a-- - Grateful.
Grateful for everything I've learned from you, Uncle Nigel.
[tranquil orchestral music]
♪ ♪
[meowing]
Oh, yes. L.O.L. Indeed.
[chuckling]
[phone rings]
What is it?
And you're certain of this?
I'm afraid so. This came straight
from Alice's office. It says he has
something called Ofu-Olosega.
Hmm. Exotic and hard to pronounce.
I don't like it.
Skipper, the document appears to be authentic.
Yes, without a doubt, it's paper.
Let's not jump to conclusions on incomplete facts
or fax paper.
Remember what happened to Manfredi and Johnson.
The order was to smother them with affection.
Ooh. Only hurt the first-half.
That's why we double check.
It's kind of hard to read. Something about Maurice
having only 24 hours left.
Skipper, it's true.
Maurice has only until tomorrow morning...
to live.
Get out your handkerchiefs, people.
Hey, wait. Wait for me.
What is being so important,
and why did I have to find some busyness
to keep Maurice away?
I sent him to the park to gather walnuts.
[laughs]
And I am hating walnuts, so...
he's gonna be in so much trouble when he returns.
It's gonna be great.
Take a seat, ringtail.
We've got some bad news.
It appears that Maurice has tofu-bola-sagway.
And he only has until tomorrow morning.
Until what exactly?
[choking]
[crying]
No! It cannot be.
I cannot lose my bestest friend
in the whole wide world.
Best friend? But you're always--
What? Ordering him around
and berate-ifying him?
You know nothing of the subtleties of friendship.
[crying]
Sorry, ringtail.
The grim reaper is one foe I can't fight.
He's got no face. It freaks me out.
Well, someone's going to have to tell Maurice.
Can we avoid the call for volunteers?
It always ends up being me.
Wait. Hold up. Why does he have to know?
Why don't we all just make sure that Maurice's last day
is the best he's ever had?
Marlene, that's a brilliant idea.
Maurice, here, let me help you.
So how was your day?
Pfft!
Walnuts. [coughs]
Thank you.
But, King Julien, you sent me out
to get those walnuts.
Yeah, you know when you love something
and you hate it at the same time?
- No. - I do!
Well, I would love and hate for you to be comfortable,
so sit upon my throne.
Ugh. Here, you do it.
I'm tired.
What's going on?
Am I in trouble?
Trouble?
[whimpering] No.
Can't two buddies just be hanging out, man?
Buddies?
Yeah, you know, buddies.
Come on, let's go toss the old...
coconut around like the old times.
You and I have never tossed a coconut or anything anywhere.
Oh, that did not just happen.
It's go time.
Who's throwing coconuts over there?
[sighs] That was close.
Oh, no! What have I done?
Do not be pounding on my doomed buddy.
Do it to, you know, mort instead.
Ah, please don't.
Yo, we ain't pounding nobody.
We're just having fun with our good friend Maurice.
What was that "doomed" part you were saying back there?
Have a banana. Have two.
They're full of potassium and whatnot.
Look, fellas, I don't want to be ungrateful.
I just want to relax.
Hey, Maurice. Let me carry you home.
What is wrong with everyone?
Why are they all acting so nice?
And creepy?
Maybe they know you're going to die...
your hair!
I mean, you're dyeing your hair.
Yes. I mean, no.
I mean, what?
Skipper, I wish there was something
we could do for Maurice.
- I know, Private. I know. - Aww.
I was just taking with Mason and Phil.
We may have found a cure for old rutabaga.
This flower, the Dendrobium orchid,
- it must be the cure. - All right.
Where can we find one of these tropical beauties?
- Oh! Oh! - Tough to say.
They're found throughout the Philippines, Borneo,
Australia, New Guinea.
We could never get there in time.
Right over here! Right over here!
Would you look?
- The orchid! - It's in the florist's shop.
Huh. Who'd have thunk it?
Hey.
I am peeking a boo.
Hello!
Stop it! I just want to be left alone.
Everyone's so--
Touchy? Mushy? Royal?
No, that last one would just be me.
- Snack? - And checkers.
I don't even know how to play,
so letting you win should be easy.
- Whoa! - Hey, how about a footsy rub?
Huh? Or maybe
you would like to wear the royal crown.
You're bugging me to death.
Mort, you should know better than to do the bugging...
[whispering] To death.
But I did not do the "D" word.
[laughs nervously]
Is this not the best day you've ever had
in your whole short, miserable...
uh, happy life?
My wh--
Target in sight, skipper.
Attack stack man.
[groans] It's locked.
Private, looks like you'll get your chance
to volunteer after all.
[sighs]
I believe now I know why "volunteers" ends in "teers."
Ugh!
This place is impenetrable.
Kowalski, more options, less excuses.
Hmm.
I got to admit, this is pretty nice.
So then you might say this is the best day of your life?
Sure. Okay.
But this throne is a little hard when you sit on it for long.
I bring the pillows.
Yeah, here's some cushy for the tushy.
No, that's not what I'm talking about.
- What I need is-- - More pillows.
Hey, comfy now?
Yeah, dandy.
Please stop!
[sighs] That "working" was hard.
- Whoa! - [splash]
What was that splishy-splash sound?
[intense spy music]
Right on target.
Steady, steady.
[sneezes]
Oh! [sneezes] Oh!
[sneezes] Oh!
Man down.
Pull him out of there!
The security around that orchid is insidious.
Why are you staring at me with your beaks frozen
in sickly grimace?
[screaming]
Okay, I've had enough of this.
I want to go to bed.
I'm dead tired.
No, do not be saying that.
No sleeping or lying down of any sort,
especially not the "dead" sort.
You--you need to be shaking your groovy thing.
[thumping dance music]
Are you kidding--
Be shutting up and getting down.
Ready for Operation Corsage.
Then let's go to the prom.
Nailed it.
Now just a little-- no, back.
To your left. Right.
Up. Down.
No, your other down.
Maybe a curlicue.
Skipper, we've got it.
Good work, Private.
Fine. Do it the easy way.
[slowly] Work that booty.
I can't. I just can't.
Yes, you can, Maurice.
The beat won't stop, so neither should--
[both crying]
Why?
He has so much to live for. Look at him.
So much more booty shaking to do.
So much more getting things done and doing things for me.
We're--we're too late.
[snoring]
Oh. He's still breathing.
Quite loudly.
[coughs]
Okay, I've had it.
Everybody's been bugging me all day long
and keeping me up all night.
I'm fed up! What's going on?
Part mammal, this document addressed to you
informed us that you were dying from awful saliva.
Your one hope was the Dendrobium Orchid.
- What? - No need to thank us.
All in a night's work.
Maurice.
Another junk fax came for you.
"Maurice, you have only 24 hours to live
the life of your dreams on the island of Ofu-Olosega."
Hey, that's the home of the Dendrobium Orchid.
- Whatever. - Oh.
Oh, thank goodness you're being okay.
Oh, I was so worried.
I was catering to your every need.
I fed you all my yummies,
even my walnuts.
[coughs]
And you--you are the one who got me these.
Oh, hating them.
You thought I only had 24 hours to live?
Yes, and now I am giving you only 24 hours to live
after what you've put me through.
So it was all a misunderstanding.
The best kind of misunderstanding:
fueled by tragedy but loaded with high jinks.
Oh, well.
On the bright side, Rico's set for the prom.
[mumbling melody]
[tense detective music]
♪ ♪