[jazzy music]
- ♪ Timmy's still an average kid ♪
♪ That no one understands ♪
♪ Chloe's his new neighbor ♪
♪ And she's ruining all his plans ♪
- Ahh!
- ♪ All the wishes ♪
♪ In the world ♪
♪ So why should he care? ♪
♪ Jorgen has reported there's a fairy shortage ♪
♪ So Timmy has to share ♪
♪ His OddParents, fairly OddParents ♪
- More than one? - This should be fun!
- ♪ OddParents, fairly OddParents ♪
♪ Feather suit, nature boots, laser shooting, rescue ♪
- World peace, kale treats,
bunny feet, real neat!
- What? No! Leave me alone!
My fairies! Get your own!
- ♪ OddParents, fairly OddParents ♪
♪ Timmy, beware, you'll have to share ♪
♪ Your fairly OddParents ♪
- Yeah, right!
[triumphant music]
♪ ♪
[pleasant music]
[motor whirring, horn honks]
[tires screech]
- Yee-hee-hee! Did it come? Did it come? Did it come?
Yes!
This is the most awesome thing ever.
- Well, we know he's not looking at his report card.
- Yee!
- Well, he could be, Cosmo.
Maybe Timmy's been studying.
[groans] Who am I kidding?
- Yeah, who are you kidding?
This is an awesome flyer
from the National Federation of Squirrely Scouts.
They're having an invitation-only jamboree
at Lance-a-Lotta Pizza.
- Ooh! That's the most exclusive medieval-themed
Italian restaurant in Dimmsdale.
I love any dining establishment
that has historical relevance and food puns.
They have Chicken Castle-tori and Eliza-beef in bowl.
- Oh, Timmy!
I'm enjoying my new hobby-- mail-swapping!
I take the mail I don't like-- stupid bills and stuff--
and swap it for the neighbor's fun mail,
like this Squirrely Scout flyer from Chloe's mailbox.
They're having a banquet at Lance-a-Lotta Pizza!
I love their Eliza-beef in bowl
with "joust" a dash of cheese.
- Ha! That's a good food pun.
Wait, you took my mail?
- No, silly.
I swapped it!
I left you a big, fat credit card bill
and a strongly worded warning I got from the police
to stop swapping mail.
Look at the cool stuff I swapped for.
I got an acceptance letter to nursing school
and Mr. Somebody's hearing aid.
- Uh, Dad? - [yelps]
Stop yelling at me, Timmy!
[screams]
And now I'm yelling at myself!
I also took the colored pills from Mrs. Lipschitz
that keep her from thinking she's a witch.
- [cackling]
- We have a problem, guys.
- Stop yelling!
Oh, no! I've gone deaf!
- No, you haven't, Dad. We just stopped talking.
- [yelps]
I can hear again. It's a miracle!
- Anyway... according to this flyer,
we don't qualify for the jamboree.
It's only for troops that have Special Flying Squirrely status.
- Ooh, if only we had a scout leader
who could tell us what that is.
- You're the scout leader!
- This is a good hearing aid! I can hear scooters talk!
- You're not wearing the hearing aid!
- Anyway... there are two ways to get
Special Flying Squirrely status.
One is to volunteer at a soup kitchen for 100 hours.
- [shrieks] I hate soup!
There's no way I can eat it for 100 hours.
- The other way to achieve Special Flying Squirrely status
is to explore uncharted territory
and plant the Squirrely Scout flag.
- How hard can that be?
There must be tons of unexplored places.
Why did I never notice those flags before?
- [cackling]
- Ooh!
Looks like the Picklefines just got a fancy package.
Better get swapping. Oh, I hope it's a cheese log.
Please be a cheese log!
- Anyway...
we just have to plant our flag someplace
where no Squirrely Scout has ever been,
like the bottom of the ocean.
[faint fanfare]
Okay. Or the North Pole.
[keys clack]
[faint Christmas fanfare]
Fine, then! How about under my bed?
- This is live.
- That's it, Eric-- this is the last
and grossest place on Earth that didn't have a flag.
- Get out of my room, Eric!
I'm going to Lance-a-Lotta Pizza
if I have to plant my flag in outer space!
Chloe?
[keys clack]
- Looks like outer space is Squirrely-flag free.
- Cosmo, Wanda. [magical pop]
I wish our Squirrely Scout troop could go to outer space.
- [shrieks] The Picklefines got snakes in the mail!
Now I'm in a fine pickle.
Ooh! Ooh, now I want pickles--
and no soup!
[fanfare]
[dramatic music]
♪ ♪
[shrieks] Where am I? How did I get here?
Why does somebody hate the Picklefines?
I have so many questions!
- Relax, Dad.
This expedition is gonna get us a free trip
to Lance-a-Lotta Pizza.
- I'm good!
- This is so exciting!
We'll be the first Squirrely Scouts
to plant our flag in space.
All we need is the rest of our troop.
- Roll call.
Whiny Kid.
[magical pop]
- I'm cold.
I'm bored. I'm--
- You're whiny! That's what you are!
Next up, Kid With Issues.
[magical pop]
- Aah!
I'm having that nightmare where I'm in space in my underwear.
- You're a nightmare.
Last and definitely least, Stuart!
[magical pop]
- A-a-ah-choo!
Oh, no.
I'm in space!
I'm allergic to space!
- I'm allergic to you, Stuart.
You're our weak link!
- This is the part of my dream where I realize
no one's driving the spaceship, and I scream.
[screams]
- It's okay, Kid With Issues.
I'm an official Junior Astronaut.
With me at the controls,
nothing can possibly go wrong. [gas hissing]
[all coughing]
- I found s'mores and a campfire
in the Picklefines' mailbox.
They get a lot of weird mail.
Anyhoo...
I bet you're allergic to s'mores,
aren't you, Stuart?
- Actually, they're the one thing my system
can tolerate.
- No shares-ies!
- I'm locking onto the nearest asteroid.
Get ready to plant our Squirrely Scout flag
and go to Lance-a-Lotta Pizza,
where I'm gonna celebrate at their
Off with Your Head of Lettuce Salad Bar.
- Ooh. I'm having
their Leaning Tower of Pizza
with pepperoni and Black Plague olives.
- I did the math! And we have a 90% chance
of never making it back to Dimmsdale.
So there's a 50% chance we'll make it.
- And there's a 100% chance you're bad at math.
- This is the part of my dream where backpacks talk about math.
- Oh, silly Kid With Issues,
backpacks don't talk-- only scooters do.
Ooh! Let's pump up the space jam with some music!
[eerie chimes]
Eeh, what's going on?
There's no tunes, and I feel a little light in the loafers.
- You just turned off the Gravity Stabilizer.
[beeps, Gravity Stabilizer charges]
- Focus. Think pizza.
Keep your eyes on the pies.
- That's an excellent food pun, Timmy,
but if you'll excuse me,
there's marshmallow goo jammed in the controls,
and I have to keep us from hurtling
into that giant ball of fiery gas known as the Sun!
- Oh, no!
I forgot to put on my sunblock!
- No worries, you'll burst into flames before you get a sunburn.
[all screaming]
- Eeh, it's getting hot in here.
On the upside, the s'mores are cooking themselves.
[thermometer tone ascends]
[glass cracks]
[all screaming]
- [straining]
- Aah! I need new underwear!
- Aah! I'm getting a heat rash.
- Aah! I burned my tongue!
- [grunts]
Ha ha! [fanfare]
[all cheer]
Okay. We're no longer hurtling towards the Sun.
all: Yay!
- Also, we're half a million miles from Earth
and almost out of fuel.
all: Boo!
- Yay!
- It's okay.
We can save fuel if we get rid of some extra weight.
- Stuart, I'm gonna ask you to take one for the team here.
- You can't throw Stuart out, Timmy's Dad!
- I would never throw him out! He's a child.
I'm asking him to jump out voluntarily.
- It's all good. We have magical fairies.
If things get really bad, we can just wish ourselves out of here.
- Oh, Timmy!
I lightened the load by throwing out your useless backpacks.
[sad fanfare]
[pensive tone]
[both scream]
[both screaming]
[panting]
- Okay, this is not a problem,
'cause Cosmo and Wanda still have their wands.
[dramatic fanfare]
[both screaming]
- Stop screaming! - You're screaming!
Why can't I scream?
- Ooh, I love ice cream,
especially at Lance-a-Lotta Pizza.
I can never decide between the root beer moat
or the ice cream sand-wench
[buzzer sounds] - Oh!
We're coming up on a small planet.
Or you might call it a "planetoid"
or perhaps a "dwarf planet."
No, it is a planetoid. Although, technically--
- Just land so we can plant the Squirrely Scout flag
and have pizza and jousting!
- Fine.
- Hey. I just realized
we haven't been wearing our seat belts.
- Weak link!
[triumphant music]
♪ ♪
- This is perfect.
We have just enough fuel to make it back to Dimmsdale
before the jamboree.
All we have to do is take a selfie
planting the Squirrely Scout flag.
[whimsical fanfare]
Off it goes.
- You know what I just realized?
This is the first Squirrely Scout trip ever
that my dad didn't totally mess up.
- Oh, Timmy!
I swapped mail with someone named The Glorg.
I traded Stuart, who's technically male,
for The Glorg's subscription to "Purrrfect Kitten" magazine.
Ha! Kittens!
[rumbling]
[casual organ music]
- [yawns]
[slurps]
[munches]
[lackluster fanfare]
No kittens?
[roars]
- It's hard to blame The Glorg.
Who would want Stuart?
- [roaring]
[all screaming]
- Actually, this is kind of cool.
We discovered life on a planetoid.
Well, actually, it's more of a planet, but technically--
- Less talking, more running!
- It's hard to run without my arch supports.
Someone stole them from my mailbox!
- Swapped!
- [roaring]
[feet screech]
[lively dramatic music]
[all screaming]
- Oh, this is my bad, gang.
I realize now that swapping mail is a bad hobby.
I'll never do it again!
- Probably won't have a chance anyway,
'cause The Glorg's holding a spork!
[all scream]
- [moans]
[fanfare] - Wait a minute!
He's got a coupon to Lance-a-Lotta Pizza.
- Well, what do you know?
They have franchises in Dimmsdale, Bakersfield,
and Glorgitron Five.
[medieval fanfare]
- Says here, "With six guests,
Glorgs eat free."
He doesn't want to eat us.
He wants to eat with us.
He's actually a big sweetie!
- Or he's cheap.
- Don't mess with The Glorg, Timmy.
- Um, excuse me, Mr. The Glorg?
Just a heads-up--
I-I can't digest cheese.
- Oh, weak link.
- Up top, Glorg!
[jazzy fanfare]
[all cheering]
- We finally made it to Lance-a-Lotta Pizza.
And it was totally worth almost bursting into flames
and being eaten by The Glorg.
- Look, Timmy, I got the Sword in the Calzone.
It's a little bit of a reach as a food pun,
but it's delicious.
- Hey, we didn't order the root beer moats.
- They're on us.
- We got a coupon.
It's Talking Backpack Tuesday, so we eat free.
- Timmy, don't tell The Glorg,
but I still have his copy of "Purrrfect Kitten" magazine.
- Hey, you took my kittens.
[roars]
- Swapped!
Run!
[all screaming]
- I'm too full to run.
both: Weak link.
[dramatic fanfare]