And now DreamWorks' "The Penguins of Madagascar."
[exciting music]
♪ ♪
[tense music]
♪ ♪
Okay, double Norwegian Slap 'em
and Grab 'em Poker is the game.
Kings high. Uh, and sevens wild.
Extremely wild.
Double Norwegian Slap 'em and Grab 'em, Skipper?
I don't think I know the rules.
Not to worry, young Private.
You'll pick 'em up as we go.
- Okay, so do I-- - Blam! Private's out!
I am? What did I do wrong?
Well, if you don't know, Private,
I can't explain it to you.
- Rico! - Um...
Blam! And Rico's out!
Ah, man.
Skipper, you're not making the rules up as we go, are you?
Hmm, sour grapes.
Kowalski, you're up.
Kowalski? Hello?
I see it now.
It's simple.
Really?
Then could you explain it to me?
'cause I'm completely flummoxed.
It's so ridiculously simple even Private could do it.
Science compels me.
I must do this thing!
"Even" Private?
"Even"? Should I be insulted?
Nah, why start now?
Ooh, looks like I win big.
Who's up for another round?
Actually, I've got a... thing I have to do.
Um, I gotta go.
I can do it.
I can do it, I can totally do it!
[insane laugh, electricity crackles]
Kowalski?
What?
I was just wondering if you'd like a spot of tea?
Private, I am weaving the fabric of life,
creating wonders neither man nor nature could conceive!
So no tea then?
No tea!
[gasps] Rude.
Oh, you know how Kowalski gets
when he's on one of his inventing jags.
Unfortunately, I do.
Yeah, won't be long before he busts out of that lab
with some screwball device with an unpronounceable name.
That blows up.
That's a given.
- I've done it! - [spits]
I have invented the Churrostifishinitizer!
- [spits] - Unpronounceable, check.
Now let's see about the screwball.
I present the Churrostifishinitizer.
AKA, the glorious machine that finally realizes "the dream."
- What dream? - The dream, Skipper.
- The dream, Kowalski? - Yes!
The! Dream!
And which specific dream would that be?
I don't know.
Kowalski, I wanna make sure I understand what you're saying,
'cause if I'm hearing what you're saying
and you're saying what I think you're saying
and--what are you saying?
The dream, Skipper!
The dream...
[gurgles]
I'm sorry, can someone please explain
what you two are going on about?
Private, I have combined nature's two most perfect foods,
the fish and the churro, into one magical mega-food:
the furro!
Whoa!
Mmm!
It's like everything good in the universe
in a convenient stick form.
Would you two care to--
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, give me that!
Oh, oh, wow.
Oh... so delicious.
If only I could make this moment last forever.
Bite big, Private.
There's plenty more where that came from.
Kowalski, on occasion,
I may have made a smart-aleck remark
or two about your scientific pursuits.
Don't know if you ever noticed.
Um... I caught a few.
Well, I take them all back.
You've done good!
- [bones crack] - Real good!
Mmm--wait. What's the catch?
Wh--when does this churof-- churitif--chomif--
this thing blow up?
Oh, yeah, hey.
What's the ETA on the big boom?
No boom.
I promise there's no catch, no downside at all.
Splendid.
Except for the toxic waste byproduct.
[heavy sigh]
But I got that covered, really.
An elaborate network pumps the toxic waste byproducts
into a convenient dispersal system.
Which is what, exactly?
Uh, that.
[volcano burps]
Makes a nice effect, I think.
- [volcano burps] - Finally.
The zoo is properly celebrating the me-osity of me
with an awesome laser light bubble show.
Eh?
Uh, I'm sure the lasers and lights are coming.
Wait it out. [volcano burps]
I didn't know it did that.
Whatever.
But isn't pumping out toxic waste, um, well, bad?
[scoffs] I'm sure any ill effects
will be negligible.
Mm-hmm.
Well, that's a good question, Private.
Why don't you think of it this way?
They are very tiny bubbles.
[volcano burps, bubble rumbles]
[volcano burps]
What would you gentlemen like for breakfast?
Day-old halibut?
Dried fish biscuits? [snickers]
An old shoe?
- Furro! - Furros!
We want furros!
I don't see why not.
Mmm.
Ya ha yum mmm.
[gulps]
Mmm. [laughs]
[groans]
One week of doing nothing but...
[chomps] Eating furros.
And I still can't get enough.
[belches]
Nice vibrato, Rico.
Now to show off my flashy diving skills.
[grunts]
Backflip, tuck and twist.
[wind blows]
[ice cracks]
Maurice, come quickly.
Your Majesty!
Uh, are you all right?
I am not!
Look at all this snow.
Weird...
Where'd that come from?
Who is caring?
Snow means winter, and winter means Christmas!
And Christmas means, say it with me, presents!
Yay, presents!
[laughs] Not for you, Mort.
Me only.
So where are my presents, Maurice?
I hope they are good, but I also hope you kept the receipts
in case I decide they are not so much.
It's not Christmas. It's July.
In fact, whew, it's getting pretty warm.
Wha--? Summer?
That means...
[spits] It's my birthday!
It's my birthday!
So, ha! You still owe me the presents.
Nice try, you greedy.
- [thunder cracks] - [gasps]
Uh, what's this?
You didn't, by chance, offend the sky spirits, did you?
No, what?
The sky spirits love me.
But that's just factual.
Oh, put me on your feet.
I can be your galoshes!
[screams]
Somebody must have offended the sky spirits.
But which somebody?
[volcano burps]
Or somebodies.
Or some fishy, stinking penguin bodies.
Gosh, Lord Good Mannersly, the more smiles I give away,
the more I get back.
Wise are you, prince shares-a-lot.
Live at five, breaking news.
When there's news, we break it.
Weather gone wild.
Reports are filtering in of freak atmospheric disturbances
centered in the Central Park--
Shh, Private.
Let's enjoy these furros
without the lame stream media's jibber-jabber.
Furro, before you,
I didn't know if my hardened heart
would ever love again.
Not like this.
[chomps loudly]
- Ah-- - J'accuse!
- Sky spirits peevers! - What?
Oh, you think you can play dumb, huh?
Well, buddy, we can play dumber.
[moans]
Oh, I am galoshes!
The king thinks whatever it is you're all doing over here
has royally ticked off the sky spirits.
I highly doubt that given they don't actually exist.
[laughs] Then why are they showing
their displeasure of you
by making the weather all whackadoo?
I'm sure you're exaggerating, but just so later
I can be smug and condescending,
I'll pull up our surveillance system,
and good golly, Miss Molly, what is that?
[groans]
I'm freezing my mangos over here.
Oh, it's too hot, baby.
Too hot! [mumbles]
Behold the whackadooness of which I was speaking earlier.
This calls for immediate action.
Who needs a refresher?
Furro? Furro?
Furro?
Oh, yeah, we should probably
check out the weather thing too.
This Roman candle will provide you
with the extra thrust you need to reach the upper atmosphere.
Um, are you sure this is safe?
[screams]
Safe... hmm.
Safe...
[screams]
My hunch, this is Dr. Blowhole's revenge
for his previously foiled series of revenges.
Mm-hmm, yep.
Private will find some dolphin-themed
weather-controlling satellite.
We'll take it out.
- Kaboom. - Right, problem solved.
Private should break cloud cover any moment.
[suspenseful music]
[gasps] Kowalski, are you seeing this?
Not getting a clear picture; what is it?
I--I'm not sure,
but it's definitely not a satellite.
[bubble echoes]
Oh, dear.
[screams]
[beeping]
He'll be okay once his parachute opens, right?
Pa... ra...chute...
Kowalski, tell me you packed the boy a chute!
Well, silk is expensive!
Add that to the cost of the fireworks and whew,
way over budget.
Oh, boy.
Move, men!
Try not to fall so fast, Private!
[screams]
I've got a visual.
Rico, you ready?
[mumbles] Ta-da!
Here he comes.
[screams]
[groans]
Did not account for increased wind shear.
Have a furro; you'll feel better.
[chomps] Mmm, I do feel better.
Localized climate chaos wreaks midtown havoc.
For more, we go to Gil Force in the eye of the storm.
I really could have done this from the studio, Chuck.
Anyway, as any first grader can see, it's wet out here.
Wait, no, Chuck, it--it's sunny.
I meant to say sunny as a spring--
- [thunder cracks] - [whimpers]
That sounded really close!
Now hailing; it's hailing!
- Ow, ow, ow! - [screams]
Ow, ow, ow.
Now it's coming down cats and dogs.
Or whatever these things are.
- Hello! - Can I come inside now?
Well, I've thoroughly analyzed the data,
and I know who is to blame for this local climate change.
Blowhole, right?
I was right about Blowhole, wasn't I?
No, Skipper, not Dr. Blowhole.
He is still in an aqua park and thinks his name is Flippy.
[laughs] Oh, yeah, that's right, Flippy.
Hans then!
Never trust a puffin.
Not Hans either.
- Red squirrel? - Nope.
Then who is our weather villain?
Skipper, the villain is... us!
Get 'em! Wait, what?
Us and our...
furros!
[heart beating]
At the rate this freak weather is expanding,
the entire state of New York will be covered within the hour.
[both gasp]
North America in 12 hours.
[both gasp]
The entire world within a day!
[both gasp loudly]
And the Milky Way galaxy in 6.7 million years!
What? It's a big galaxy.
Oh...
The first step to solving this crisis
is to stop using the Churrostifishinitizer.
Immediately and forever.
Ever.
[deep voice] Ever.
[deeper voice] Ever.
That's not gonna happen.
Local climate change, ha!
I call local climate change
the greatest hoax ever perpetrated
on the penguin populace.
I mean, have you ever seen a more beautiful summer day?
Oof!
Okay, so maybe the weather is acting a little... hinky.
I'll grant that.
- Good, I-- - But!
How do we know this is penguin-made, huh?
Well, there's plenty of--
I propose a 50-year study.
50 years, Skipper?
Good point, Kowalski. Better make it 100.
Meanwhile, I'll furro it up.
[eats loudly]
Skipper, that thing up in the sky is 56% ionized fish oil,
41% crystallized churro sugar,
and 3% tartaric esters of diglycerides.
Diglycerides?
I know! My trademark ingredient.
There's no denying it.
Our Churrostifishinitizer is to blame.
No.
No, no, no, no!
I love my furros.
And I'll gnaw the wing off any man
who tries to take 'em from my cold, wet, flippers!
Now, Skipper, listen to reason.
Sorry, I can't hear reason.
[laughs]
Operation toxic takedown.
We'll fly three snub-nosed fighters
to the bubble and then launch--
Question. Three flyers?
Yes, our old rocket ship might make the journey,
but it would be a tactical error
to place all our eggs in one basket.
No, I mean, three flyers?
Are we sure Skipper won't help?
[eats loudly]
Yum, yum, yum!
Yeah, pretty sure.
[humming]
That do anything?
Nuh-uh. Still snowing.
What? [sighs]
I've done the funky booty, the booty scooty,
the electric rump.
Those sky spirits must be mighty steamed.
Well, my booty's pooped.
I shall have to make some other sacrifice.
Sacrifice?
Yes, Mort, sacrifice.
- [thunder booms] - Um, I am running away now!
Come back, Mort!
The sky spirits must be appeased.
To your fighters!
We've got to launch
before the weather changes again.
Fighters? To fight what?
A hoax?
The only way to fight that is with good,
old-fashioned horse sense.
Something you three sorely lack.
You know what I say to that, Skipper?
I say, neigh! [snickers]
Seriously, though, science is on our side, Skipper.
I only wish you were too.
[bones crunch] Ow!
Ooh, I--ow, that really undercut the moment.
All fighters, launch! Ow.
- Here we go. - Ooh.
Ah! Ooh!
Well, good luck. Fighting a fairy tale.
- [sighs] - Save me!
- Protectify me! - Oof!
Ugh, sad eyes,
I was in a rare moment of introspection.
Oh, how was that?
Eh, not for me.
Aha, my little sacrificial lamb
is no longer on the lam.
Now go appease!
Whee!
Mort, you are so preposteriorous,
even the sky spirits don't want you.
Oh, hey, Skipper, uh, shouldn't you be doing something
stupidly dangerous with the other stinky penguins?
Yeah.
Maybe.
Kinda.
Uh...
[electricity crackles]
All right, set up for your attack run.
Prepare to unleash chemical-dispersing fury.
Um, Kowalski, just wondering,
are even more chemicals really the answer here?
You know, Private,
if this were a problem involving,
say, fluffy kittens,
I'd bow to your knowledge and experience.
Have those kittens lost their mittens?
Those silly billies.
Stay with me, Private.
This is science,
so what say we all listen to the scientist, hmm?
Oh, okay then.
Right, now on my mark, attack!
And fire!
And now we just wait for science to do what it does best:
solve problems...
with chemicals.
Mm-hmm, feeling pretty smart right about n--oh!
Uh-oh.
Kowalski, what's happening?
It would appear that we have possibly,
maybe, perhaps, uh, supercharged the bubble?
[all scream]
Eject!
Kowalski, we don't have parachutes... again!
I had a budget, and somebody just had to have seat warmers.
Sorry.
Brilliant. Now we're doomed.
Not on my watch.
- Skipper! - You came!
You finally believe my conclusions
on local climate change!
Hey, whoa, slow down there, bellbottoms.
I still think this whole mess is some kind of anti-furro hoax.
But if you men are willing to risk your skins
on nothing more than a few thousand pages of hard data,
well then, you're not doing it without me.
- All right! - Yay!
Um, Skipper?
How did you manage to get this ship airborne by yourself?
Uh--Ringtail!
I told you not to touch anything.
And I did not touch anything!
I touched everything.
Maurice, Mort, keep touching all the thingies!
Mm-hmm, on it.
I am a button-pusher.
Not that button!
[engine sputters]
Um, what just happened?
We're in the bubble and...
yep, out of fuel.
- Thanks. - You're welcome.
[suspenseful music]
So what happens next?
We just drift here forever?
Oh, now?
Well, we'll run out of air eventually,
or be torn apart by the bubble's violent energy.
- Or possibly-- - Forget I asked, okay?
Uh, I could sacrifice Mort if that would help.
[all gasp]
Men, I suggest we go down as we lived:
eating delicious furros.
Furro, furro, furro.
I don't know, suborbital travel gives me the munchies.
They really were delicious.
- Mmm, true. - Yep.
Hmm, how bad can it be? [chuckles]
[gags]
[wretches]
It is snack-sized--[gags]
Putridity! [gags]
You know what? I'll pass.
And to think, these little delicious treats
have been the downfall of us all.
Skipper, are you acknowledging--
Well, of course I am, Kowalski.
I was in denial, because I simply did not want
to give up my furro-loving lifestyle.
What's the point fighting it?
I admit it.
Furros caused this mess.
We--no, I, caused this mess.
Although the official record will say Kowalski.
Right.
If only we had some gas, some kind of potent fuel
to reignite the engines.
If, if, if.
Ooh, seriously that furro... [stomach grumbles]
Is not agreeing with my delicate inside parts.
[burps]
Oh, see what I mean?
Oh, man, that's a gassy one, Your Highness.
A gassy one? Could it be?
Nitrogen, fish oils and, yes, diglycerides!
The lemur's mammalian furro belches
are a perfect rocket fuel!
Mammalian furro belches?
Really?
Fine, you're the science guy.
Here, feed them and capture their out-gassings
in this fuel tube.
We'll escape and maybe, just maybe,
burn off the toxins in the process.
Eh, I did not care for the furro's tastiness.
Did he not get that?
- Hey! - Eat and burp, Ringtail!
I don't want...
[happy mumbles]
[burps]
More!
[burps]
Keep 'em coming.
We need more furro gas.
[whimpers]
[gags and whimpers]
Ugh, it tastes like a foot...
that stepped in--[gags]
Earwax.
[burps and giggles]
I like how degusting they are!
[burps]
- [screams] - [burps]
- Bring it, Ringtail. - [stomach gurgles]
Bring the big one!
Okay, hold on.
Let me work it up.
[burps] Go get your big brother.
Go get your bigger brother.
[massive burp] [gauge dings]
That's all I got.
Maximum capacity!
Hang on!
[alarm blaring]
[all cheering]
Mama Earth, I owe you an apology.
I won't let anyone ever hurt you again.
Especially not me.
[burps]
Excuse me.
Had a straggler.
Sorry, Mama Earth, not much I can do about him.