[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.
[cheerful music]
[heavily distorted guitar music]
♪ Who is your baby? ♪
[makes guitar noises]
♪ King Julien is your baby ♪
[makes guitar noises]
♪ Bay-bay-bay-bay-baby ♪
♪ Babyyyyy ♪
Gentlemen, if I'm known for one thing,
it's my patience.
Hmm.
Actually, Skipper, I think--
Patience!
I'm known for my saint-like patience.
But this time those ringtails have pushed me too far.
♪ Now, blow, big man ♪
[frantic trumpet playing]
[cacophonous noise rock]
It's bad enough when they listen to music.
But it's worse when they make their own.
This calls for measures.
The drasticker, the better-er.
And where should I transfer the lemurs?
What's the furthest point from us?
The petting zoo.
Yeah.
All those tiny grabby hands.
The nose-pickers.
The tail-tuggers.
It's bratatorial combat.
Ha-ha-ha!
The petting zoo! I like it.
Oh, who's gonna be our new neighbor?
Can it be Roger? I like Roger.
Kowalski, I'm in a giving mood.
Grant the boy's wish.
[computer beeping]
Ah! Ah!
Ah.
Whoa! Ah!
Hey, yo, Alice, I don't know about this.
Computer says I'm supposed to transfer the lemurs to--
Are you questioning the computer?
The same computer that spits out our paychecks?
Excellent point.
[groaning] No!
This is a mistaken thing.
We should not be in this cage.
Well, maybe Mort.
- Hello? - Hello, Roger.
Welcome to the neighborhood.
- Thank you, but I-- - You'll find your new home
is outfitted with all the modern conveniences.
Tiki bar, bouncy, throne.
[crash]
[boing]
[clang]
We can fix that. Maybe.
Rico, warm this house with a tasteful gift.
[wretches]
Hey, Roger.
Oh, very nice.
Very classy. Thank you.
Thanks. Um, could I ask one thing?
Doesn't someone else live here?
Not anymore.
[laughs maniacally]
[whimpering]
Everything in my kingly kingdom,
including my kingly kingdom, is gone.
Yeah, but we got other things.
Yeah? Like what?
I found a cotton ball doggy.
Hey, quick question.
Is this guy one of yours?
Mort, get off the sheep.
Thanks. I'm Randy.
Welcome to the land of 1,000 hands.
Uh, yeah, yeah, you can keep your welcomes, Randy,
because I will...
[grunting] Not be...
staying...
phew.
[groans]
Maurice, I am bushed.
You do the tunneling to freedom.
Why? I think it's kind of nice here.
Yes, but fortunately I am king,
so you don't have to think.
You only have to do.
And now what I, your king, wants you to be doing
is dig, dig, dig--
Eh, Maurice, why are they doing
what I am telling you to be doing?
Because you're the king, right?
Obviously.
With a tail like that?
Only a king could have a tail so magnificent.
Yay for the king!
I'm sorry, but King Julien already has someone
who blindly follows him--
wah!
- We're staying. - Yay!
You hear that, boys?
That's the sweet sound of lemur-free living.
- Ah! - [crash]
Ow.
Roger, are you okay?
Well, guys, no. No, I'm not.
It's just this habitat.
It simply doesn't have the amount of swimmable water
that a wide-bodied boy like myself needs.
We've got plenty of water in our pool.
Yeah, dip your skinnies any time you want, neighbor.
Our habitat es su habitat.
Cannonball!
- Ah! - [splash]
- [explosion] - Ah! Toxic gas!
Evacuate!
[clanging and grunting]
It's... [coughing] Stuck.
Let us out of here!
- Help! - Open up now!
That's an order!
[humming]
Oh, no fish.
I don't understand it.
What happened to our lunch?
Guys, you're the best. You're the best.
Leaving that bowl of fish for me?
You're the best.
What was that anyway? Was that mackerel?
This presentation on Dr. Blowhole's lair
is classified triple top secret
for your eyes only and--
Guys, guys! Ooh.
- [thwap] - [clang]
Sorry about that.
[grunts]
No problem.
I just spent three painstaking weeks building it.
Listen. I'm working on an original musical,
"Gator in the Park," okay?
And I'm not sure which lyric is better,
"I have lots of teeth at the end of my snout,"
or, "If you call me cruel names, I'm likely to pout."
Ooh, now that I say it out loud,
it should definitely be the second one.
Okay, thanks, guys.
Man, I'm beginning to see a flaw in this plan.
[all groaning]
Why do they get to touch the royal feet?
Because, Mort, they have soft, furry paws.
But I have soft, furry paws too.
Yes, but they are also cute and adorable.
But I am cute and adorable too.
Mm, yeah, I'm just gonna bottom line this for you.
They're not you.
Stupid bunnies.
Good news, lemurs. You're going back home.
Hooray!
Uh, maybe you penguins are confused.
We are home.
What, this?
This isn't your home.
You belong in a habitat customized
to your specific lemurish needs.
Uh, no, this petting zoo is much betterer.
Look, I've got way more subjects.
Ooh.
Bunnies.
[slurping]
And they do everything he wants
so I don't have to.
Yes, when I saw hop--
They say, "How high?"
Uh, no, they just hop.
Maximum height is a given.
Hop, Fluffy.
[jet engine noise]
See? Mad hops.
So to be honest, we really miss the old kingdom
not so much.
I do.
Forget it.
We didn't need their permission before.
We don't need it now.
Permission? Before?
Fellows, it's time to undue this neighbor swap fiasco.
Just a few keystrokes.
Uh-uh-uh.
I was expecting this kind
of sneaky peter tricking from you penguins.
Touch that computing thingy
and face the wrath of my newest subjects.
What, cute bunnies?
If I am telling them to open up a can of "whup penguin,"
then this can will be opened.
- [all laughing] - Believe you me.
You can't be serious.
You want us to be afraid of Fluffy?
Ooh!
Ah!
Hee-yah!
[grunts]
- Ah-- - [whimpering]
[buzzing]
Ah! Ah!
No, no!
[grunting]
[barks]
[all growning]
[bunnies growl]
Wow. I was totally bluffing back there.
I had no idea you really had such sick booty-kicking skills.
[laughs] Tell you what.
Baby carrots for everyone, that's what.
Yay for carrots!
Punches.
They were so cottony.
It was like a macabre ballet of adorability
and pain.
Well, on the bright side,
at least we don't have Julien singing anymore.
♪ Would love a gator like me ♪
Oh, oh, boy.
Oh, I hit a clam. Hold up.
♪ Me ♪
[grunting]
Ahhhh!
What up, birds?
We're looking for weakness in the enemy.
The little tyrant, huh?
Yeah, last night he told me
to "surrender my puffy wooliness unto him."
Just about surrendered my hoof unto his--
Then our goals are the same.
The only question is the means.
Hey.
You remember how I got kicked out of here, don't you?
Sure, you did a pearly white puncture job on a kid.
I don't think we'll ever get Julien to bite a zoo visitor.
Well, who says it has to be him?
[flapping lips]
Randy, underneath that sweater beats
the heart of a wolf.
I bite the people, and then we go home?
Just a nibble. No skin breakage.
And stupid bunnies stay here?
Exactly.
I'm gonna bite the peoples!
I want two choco bombs,
five gum breakers, and a large slurp soda.
Ooh, and zippy sticks.
Ten zippy sticks.
Skipper, the Vesuvius Twins are sugaring up.
Then they'll be en route to the petting zoo.
Ten-four, Kowalski.
The Vesuvius Twins--perfect.
If anyone deserves Mort's might bite,
it's Park Avenue's brattiest.
Uh-oh, I'm stuck.
Get him off of there.
We need those choppers.
All right, animals.
For petting.
Pull. The biting window is closing.
[wretches]
[groaning]
[kids laughing]
Find your happy place.
[grunting]
[groaning]
[gasps] Ooh, look at those.
Monkey things.
Ooh, fresh meat.
I've changed my mind.
I don't like the petting zoo anymore.
We'll protect you, Your Majesty.
Puh-ha-ha. From what?
These humans are obviously bringing tributes
of tasty snacks to the petting zoo king.
Eh, I accept your offerings.
Ah!
This thing is attacking me!
Get it off! Get it off!
[slurping]
Oh, brain freeze.
No, no, Mrs. Vesuvius.
Lemurs shouldn't even be in the petting zoo.
Frankly, I don't even know how
they got there in the first place.
Stupid computer.
Mission accomplished, boys.
Hooray!
[rattling]
No! I do not want this kingdom!
Take me back to my petting kingdom.
I order you.
Please.
Aw, guys.
I'll sure miss our next door neighborliness.
Right, not gonna be the same.
Still, I can drop by anytime, go for a swim,
sing some showtunes.
Oh, uh...
Oh, yeah, yeah, great. Just--just call first.
But I don't have a phone.
Oh, neither do we. Later.
[rock music]
[glass clinking]
Now, that's a fine-looking poop deck.
I mean, usually I have trouble with my poop decks,
but this poop deck--
[laughing]
Uh. Oh.
Rico, pass me the final hull section.
- Uh-- - Come on, come on, last piece.
Let's cork this vessel.
[grunting indistinctly]
Last piece...
missing.
Weeks of work wasted.
[grunting]
Skipper.
Kowalski, cover the Private's ears.
I intend to use my angry words.
[shouting indistinctly]
Bouillabaisse!
[monkey screeching]
Wow.
I still heard.
Yes, we can give you the manufacturer's address.
We're just not sure why you need it.
Primate, this is a payback operation.
Missing piece payback.
The less you know, the better.
Phil insists there are no missing pieces.
Apparently your model is the S.S. Fiskinlukt.
- Denmark. - Actually Norway.
You don't have a problem with the Norwegians,
- do you, Skipper? - No, I'm ambivalent
towards those fjord-loving
sons of Vikings.
They did invent the cheese slicer.
Well, point for Norway.
100 years ago, the Fiskinlukt sank
in the New York Bay with a full catch
of brine-preserved herring.
Oh, a full catch?
Of tender, mouth-watering herring?
Fish.
Your missing piece represents the breach
that sank the mighty vessel--
a solemn reminder of man's fragile...
[all groaning]
And you're still thinking about the herring, aren't you?
An entire sunken fishing vessel
ripe for undersea retrieval.
[babbling incoherently]
"Ripe" is indeed the word, Skipper.
After 100 years of aging in brine,
that herring should taste somewhere
between nectar of the gods and slap your mama delicious.
[yells unintelligibly]
Ooh! Ooh!
[glass clanging]
[grunting incoherently]
Dial down the psycho, compadre.
There's a time and a place for that kind of madness.
Really? When is the--
18 minutes from now.
In the lower New York Bay.
[submarine horn honking]
[sonar pinging]
Curse these Norwegian charts.
I mean, who measures in metric beard lengths?
Nothing on sonar, Skipper.
Steady.
Just get us within five clicks of that wreck.
Rico's uncanny fish sense should kick in any--
[sniffing]
[gasps] Ah!
[babbles incoherently]
Fish!
Mr. Kowalski, hard to port.
Follow that beak.
[gears clanking and hissing]
Beak!
[sniffing]
[grunts]
[submarine whirring]
[grunting and sniffing]
- Stop. - [tires screeching]
[all gasping]
There she lies.
Kowalski, herring salvage options.
Touchy operation, Skipper.
After a century of saltwater,
that crate could fall apart with the slightest jarring.
The key words here are slow, deliberate--
- [gasping] - Oh, bad Rico! Bad Rico!
Torpedo one.
[water whooshing]
Sweet chester nibbets!
[grunting unintelligibly]
Oh, man.
[iron clinking]
[high-pitched farting noise]
Steady, steady.
[grunting]
[splat]
- His fault. - Wow!
[grunting incoherently]
Whoa, whoa, whoa, ho, Rico!
This is what I'm talking about, soldier.
There's plenty of fish to go around
as long as everyone shows a little self-discipline.
Ah!
[chomping]
Oh, Skipper, you have got to try this herring.
Don't mind if I do.
Huh? [grunting]
[grunting and slapping]
[grunts]
[all grunting and chomping]
[chuckles]
[giggles]
Oh, giggle.
Ah.
[babbles incoherently]
[grunts incoherently]
[groans incoherently]
Wah!
Ha-ha-ha!
I got you--what?
Oh.
Mm, satisfying.
See, Rico, plenty to go around.
Everybody good? You good? You good?
Great, outstanding.
[whimpering]
Gentlemen, send your taste buds into retirement.
There will never be another flavor extravaganza like that
in our lifetime.
[clanging and grunting]
That herring was so good,
it's making me crave even more fish.
[laughter]
Seriously, though, good fish.
[grunting incoherently]
Still hungry, Rico?
I don't know how you could eat ordinary sardines
after all that delicious herring.
[belches]
Sardines?
- Fish! - Whoa! Hey!
- Hey! - Private!
Explain yourself, soldier.
Fish! [laughing maniacally]
Kowalski, analysis.
[laughing maniacally]
Crazy eyes.
Babbling tongue.
Fish!
Uh-uh!
Egad.
I believe our Norwegian herring was a bit too aged.
Never, ever blame the fish, Kowalski.
But don't you see?
Private's contracted Bacterial Pisces Dementia,
a rare brain disease that's turning him
into a fish-craving psychopath.
Hey, that's my thing.
Yeah, we don't need two of those.
Can he be cured?
It should wear off in 24 hours,
as long as he doesn't feed the disease.
That means no more fish of any kind.
Private ingests so much as a single sardine,
he'll be like this forever.
Fish!
- Wah! - Fish!
Fish!
- Fish! - Stop that.
Well, on the bright side,
maybe this will teach Private not to overindulge
in so much brined herring.
[chuckles]
Wait, did you eat as much as he did?
Why, yes, I dooby-dooby did!
Fish!
No. [grunting]
[both babbling]
Looks like we're on psycho patrol, amigo.
No fish for these two for the next 24 hours.
Uh, what about you?
Luckily, my iron constitution
seems to have made me immune to this Pisces Dementia.
Oh.
Seriously.
[both babbling]
No effect.
Ironclad constitution.
Ah!
Fish!
Ah!
[all babbling wildly]
Uh-uh-uh.
No fish.
Feeding time.
Fish!
[all babbling wildly]
Eat up, you disgusting animals.
Wah!
Aw.
- Fish! - Ah, oh.
[all grunting]
[all babbling wildly]
Since when did we get four Ricos?
Hey, what?
How come did nobody tell me it was impressionation Tuesday?
I call I get to be Maurice.
[laughs and clears throat]
"Eh, eh, hey, everybody.
Stop having fun because I'm bored, heh.
And you should be bored too. Heh-heh."
I do not talk like that.
Yes. You. Do.
Now, that's just your robot voice.
End. Transmission.
And I be the King Julien,
which means...
the feet!
[grunting]
Hey, Baron von Greedenstein,
save some for the rest of the flock.
Ooh! [grunting incoherently]
[all grunting]
[wretches]
- Oh. - Oh.
Oh.
- Whoa! - Ooh, kebabs.
- [twang] - Yah!
[whistling]
Great. All full then?
[all babbling wildly]
Whatever, freaks.
Uh-uh. No fish.
Yo, zookeeper lady,
where do you want this truckload of fresh cod fillets?
Aw, no.
Fish!
[all babbling wildly]
This ain't happening. This ain't happening.
[engine revving and tires screeching]
- [tires screeching] - [engine revving]
[grunting]
[tires screeching]
[horn honking]
Fish!
[all babbling wildly]
Get off!
[gasps]
[grunting]
Pull the car over.
Ah!
[horn honking]
[tires screeching]
[sirens blaring]
Ah!
[all grunting]
[boxes clattering]
[groans]
No...
fish.
All right, people, that tuna ain't gonna can itself.
[whistle sounds]
Are you kidding me?
[all babbling wildly]
No.
Oh.
[all babbling wildly]
♪ Fish ♪
Feed me!
[laughing] Yeah, yeah, yeah, you go ahead.
Suckers.
[all shouting]
Owee. Owee.
- Owee. - Owee.
[all yelling wildly]
[groans]
Owee. Owee.
[grunting and crashing]
[diminished grunting]
Rico.
Why is my mouth crunchy?
Ha-ha-ha-ha!
- [babbles incoherently] - Whoa!
- [crash] - [car alarm warbling]
And so for conspicuous bravery
in the face of, uh, himself times three,
I hereby award Rico
this ceremonial smoked Alaskan salmon.
[gasps]
I think we all learned something today
about unrestrained gluttony.
Gimme, gimme, gimme! Mine, mine, mine!
[babbling wildly]
[chomping]
It's Rico's thing.
[tense detective music]