♪ Born on the wrong end Of the leash ♪
-♪ He was a dreamer ♪ -♪ And a little schemer ♪
♪ A nutty mutt living a dog's life ♪
♪ But when he'd hear the bell for school ♪
♪ He'd start to drool ♪
-♪ One day he says ♪ -♪ I'll take a chance ♪
♪ Trades his leash For a pair of pants ♪
♪ In a glance, school becomes His favorite pastime ♪
♪ I have buried a bone For the last time ♪
-♪ He says ♪ -♪ I want to be a boy ♪
♪ Ooh, he's bad ♪
♪ He's so over just being rover ♪
♪ I gotta be a boy ♪
♪ He says he's just gonna be a boy ♪
♪ Turns out he's a regular Einstein ♪
♪ And Leonard is treading a fine line ♪
Why can't I be a normal kid like any other?
Now, doodle bug, listen to mother.
♪ I want to be a boy ♪
I hate dogs.
♪ I gotta be a boy ♪
♪ This power pup's gonna be a boy ♪
I do not wish to be a dog.
♪ Now this bowser's ready for trousers ♪
♪ I got to be a boy ♪
♪ His nose is wet but you can bet ♪
♪ This teacher's pet is gonna be a boy ♪
Yes!
[beeping]
Leonard Helperman, commander of the Galactic Space Alliance,
brings his damaged ship into the hostile Zargon war zone
on a mission of peace.
Easy, Helperman, easy. You can do this.
The fate of the universe lies on your shoulders.
[beeping continues]
[Mrs. Helperman] Leonard!
Aahh! Steady, man.
Don't lose your cool.
Oh, doodle bug, where are you?
Oh, no!
Leonard Helperman, I'm calling you!
[electronic beeping]
[Groans]
Oh, there you are.
Oh, great, Mom.
You just made me blow up the whole universe.
Well, I'm sure you didn't mean to.
Do you know what day today is?
Uh-oh-- trick-question alert.
Whenever a mother asks a question a kid can answer,
it means only one thing-- the fun's over.
Um, it's Sunday.
Oh, silly, of course it's Sunday,
but it's the first Sunday of spring.
Huh?
It's our annual vernal-equinox,
get-rid-of-the-clutter- around-the-house-Sunday
yard sale day.
Ha! Told you.
Fill the box, make a buck.
But, Mom--
Don't "but" me unless you're a silly billy goat. Now move, mister.
Ohh.
Pfft.
My, oh, my, a buck a box for ordinary clutter?
Quick, gather up your junk!
There's money to be made at Mrs. H.'s yard sale.
Yard sale? Please, that is so 20th century.
The days of yard sales are over.
We're in the dot-com world of digital enterprise, baby!
I beg your pardon?
We can make a fortune selling our stuff online.
"Welcome to bidtillyourebroke.com,
where one man's junk is another man's jewels."
What did I tell you?
Stick with me, kid.
I'll have you in kibble as big as radishes.
Here. These are for you.
What's this?
Two quarters.
What's this for?
Your share of the buck box.
Two quarters?!
Why, that's the monetary equivalent of 1,100 Italian lira
at the current exchange rate.
That'll get me two chicken-flavored doggy biscuits,
or better yet, a new number-two pencil!
Ooh, wait!
If I put it in the bank at 5% interest, compounded daily--
in 45 years, I'll have-- hey, what's a buck box?
I toss a bunch of old stuff into a box for Mom's yard sale,
and she pays me $1 for it.
Interesting.
And just exactly how do I figure into this equation?
I ran out of my stuff,
so I tossed in some of your old stuff.
Old stuff? The word "stuff" casts a rather large net.
Could you be more specific?
Just some old toys I found in our room.
Have you ever heard the saying,
"one dog's toys are another man's treasure"?
Not exactly.
[sniffing]
Something doesn't smell right here, or more correctly,
something I usually smell I don't smell anymore.
[sniffing]
[gasps]
I-I-I can't seem to find my squeeky burger toy.
Was that a rubbery thingy that looked like a cheeseburger
with lettuce, tomato, pickles, on a faded sesame-seed bun?
Oh, when you squeezed it,
it made an irritating squeaky noise?
Yes, that's it!
Haven't seen it. Would you excuse me for a second?
[door shuts]
That's a quarter. Oh, and that's 50 cents.
$2. A nickel. Thanks so much.
Mom, where's my buck box?
What? Oh, I sold it.
To who?
To whom, dear.
To whom?
Why is it "to whom," dear?
Because "whom" is the object of the preposition "to,"
as in, "to whom did you sell it?"
Okay, okay, so, to whom, um, did you sell it...To?
Huh?
Oh, honey, I've been so busy, I haven't the slightest idea.
[man] Excuse me, ma'am.
[crashing]
What's going on in there?
The mutt's going manic.
I wouldn't go in if I were you.
[glass shatters]
Alas, poor squeeky burger toy.
I knew it well.
[high-pitched Southern accent] Oh, fiddledeedee.
Is that you, squeeky burger toy,
standing in the shade of a magnolia tree?
Why don't you come up here on the veranda,
and cool yourself with some sweet tea?
[normal voice] Show me... squeeky burger toy!
[imitates buzzer] Oh, I'm so sorry.
That is incorrect, but thanks for playing.
[sniffing]
Hey! That's the record-setting fur ball
I coughed up last winter.
I wondered where it went.
["Pop Goes The Weasel" plays]
[squeaking]
Spot, snap out of it. It's no big deal.
You haven't played with that old squeeky toy for ages.
Oh, really? No big deal?
Well, if recent usage is the criteria
for what we keep and what we get rid of,
then I guess you won't mind
if I toss this into the yard sale.
Ahhh! No, not Lamont!
Ah, Lamont, Lamont, Lamont.
Everything's gonna be okay.
No one's gonna take you away-- not ever.
I rest my case.
Okay.
What's our first item up for auction?
How about that shredded catnip mousy?
"For sale-- one used catnip mouse."
Whoa, whoa, you kidding me? That's it?
"One used catnip mouse"?
You got to make your description sing.
It's got to cry out, "buy me! You can't live without me!"
Well, I suppose I could say it's gray.
Gray? Move over, P.T. Boring.
Let a real salesman show you how it's done.
"Willing to sacrifice
one-of-a-kind mouse-shaped plush toy--
unrivaled aromatherapy for cats in popular color.
Don't miss this rare opportunity."
Well, that sounds a bit wordy to--
[computer dings]
Oh, look-- a bid!
[dinging]
Gracious! More bids-- one right after another.
You were right.
See that? It's a ding-a-linging feeding frenzy.
I'm telling you, we're in the money, baby!
[snoring]
Okay, Leadready, you're just going to have to find
something to replace squeeky burger toy.
[buzzer sounds]
What have I done to my best friend?
How can I live with myself?
How can I ever rest?
[snoring]
This is crazy.
You don't need a squeeky burger toy or anything else.
Just go to sleep,
like you-- you never even heard
[crying] Of a-- of a squeeky... burger toy.
Christmas!
"Just a small token--
it isn't a lot,
but know that we love you, our new puppy Spot."
[squeaks]
[squeaking]
Oh, come to me,
my beloved squeeky.
Hey! Let me out! Come on! I can't breathe!
I'm getting claustrophobic here!
Pretty Boy! Blech!
From a cat, I expect that kind of treatment, but you--
I am so sorry.
Do you know how hard it is
to get dog slobber out of feathers?
No dry cleaner will even consider it.
All right. This isn't so bad. I'm going to school.
I've forgotten about my squeeky burger toy.
And once I step foot inside the hallowed halls of learning,
my mind will be consumed with the flames of knowledge.
[squeaking]
Did you hear that?
I didn't hear anything.
That squeaking sound.
Dog ears, my boy-- we may not have opposable thumbs,
but we have superior hearing.
It's my squeeky burger toy!
How can you be sure?
Because these ears never lie!
[squeaking]
Darn. They lied.
[squeaks]
[squeaking]
That incessant squeaking--
it's driving me mad-- mad, I tell you!
[laughing]
[squeaking]
My ears are playing tricks on me.
Well, maybe "tricks" is the wrong word--
"deceiving," "deluding," "defrauding"?
No, "tricks" is the right word.
I must ignore it.
Accept the loss of my squeeky burger toy
and move on with my life.
Who am I kidding?! I've got to look!
[squeaking]
Would you please control your rat?
That squeaking is driving me crazy!
Oh, that isn't coming from Tammy.
It's coming from this.
[squeaking]
I got it at Leonard's mom's yard sale,
and it's my new favoritest toy in the whole, wide world!
[slurps]
Like it?
[computer dinging]
Oh, my goodness.
Look at the money pouring into our auction account.
Think of the fabulous treasures I can buy
with my newfound wealth,
although I do feel somewhat guilty
basking in this good fortune
while my friend spot is so miserable.
Hold it! Am I a generous genius or what?!
I bet someone is selling a squeeky burger toy
I could buy for spot.
Let's see-- "squeeky burger toy."
Aha! "Willing to sacrifice to right buyer--
squeeky burger toy--
hand painted
by renowned Burmese squeak-toy artist Piango.
Still in original packaging.
Don't miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Hee hee hee! I can use the money from our auction account!
Ohh, better keep this a secret from that selfish Pretty Boy.
He'll want to keep all the money for himself.
Okay, litterlover bids...
Hot diggety!
There's an identical squeeky burger toy up for auction.
Let's see-- "willing to sacrifice"-- good.
"Renowned artist Piango"-- very good!
"Once-in-a-lifetime opportunity"--
oh, yeah, count me in, baby!
Ohh, I better not tell Jolly I'm using money from our account.
Cats only think of themselves-- me, me, meow!
[computer dings]
I see the bidding's already started.
Well, I'll just up the ante.
Spot, my canine compadre,
your squeeky burger toy is as good as replaced.
[squeaking]
[laughing]
You really should stop doing that.
Oh, yeah? And why is that?
Because it's loaded with germs
that you're spraying into the air.
So? I like germs.
[squeaking]
It'll ruin your bite.
[crying]
It's just a baby tooth.
It's habit-forming.
I can quit any time I want to,
but I don't want to.
[squeaking]
You deserve a better toy than that.
[panting] What could be better than this?!
[squeaks]
[alarm blares]
Hey, I didn't know it could do that.
It can't!
[laughing]
Scott, no!
What's wrong with him?
Nothing.
He's just a little tense about the state-capital test.
Okay, that's it!
Look, I am prepared to offer you a sum in the amount of $10
for that squeeky burger toy.
$10?!
Scott, what are you doing?! That's not worth $10!
He's right! This squeeky toy is priceless!
You know, it's people like you
thinking everything is for sale
who make me want to hurl!
Heck, I think I will!
No!
Okay, but I'm keeping little Ian
for the rest of my natural life.
[Mrs. Helperman] Okay, class, settle.
Scott, Leonard, return to your seats.
Everyone, clear your desks.
It's time for the state-capitals test.
Maybe taking the test will get your mind off of you-know-what.
The mental challenge
of remembering all 52 states and their capitals
should be just the diversion I need.
There are only 50 states.
Then I should do very well.
Oh, nervous about the test, Scott?
Not me, 'cause I've got little Ian to bring me luck.
Eyes on your own work, class.
Ready?
Number one--
what is the state capital of... Illinois?
Illinois-- Spring-- Springy-burger-field? No.
Kentucky.
Kentucky-- let's see-- squeeky-Frankfurt-toy.
I wonder if they make those.
Delaware.
Delaware-- ha! That's easy.
"Dover" rhymes with "rover,"
and rover's got a squeeky burger toy.
[squeaks]
Utah.
Utah-- Squeek Lake city!
[ticking]
[bell rings]
Everyone finished?
Do you need more time, Scott?
Scott?
No.
I need my squeeky burger toy!
[echoing] Burger toy! Burger toy!
Oops. [chuckles nervously]
Did I say that out loud?
[rings]
Okey-dokey. Recess, class.
All right, nothing to be concerned about.
Just the pressures of the test-- that's all.
Nothing to see here. That's right, move along.
Are you all right?
Oh, yeah, I'm pretty sure I aced that test.
Squeeky burger.
[sniffles]
Why does Scott want a stupid, squeaky, disgusting dog toy?
What's up with that?
It's like he's not even American anymore.
[growls]
These clothes-- they're so restricting.
Scott, get a grip.
You're gonna blow your cover. Everybody's staring.
-[gasps] -[gasps]
Must be that rash acting up again.
Scott used to be so cool. Now he's weirder than eeuw-an.
♪ I got a squeeky burger, you got none ♪
♪ Neener ♪
[crying] I want my squeeky burger toy!
[laughs]
I got a squeeky burger toy!
You can't have it.
[trembling] Squeeky burger...
[laughter]
Hey, leave Scott alone. He's having a bad day.
Wait here. Don't move.
I'll be right back.
[toy squeaks]
[laughing]
Hey, he didn't lock it.
It's not breaking and entering
if I don't break anything to get in.
Then, it's just entering.
[squishing]
Oh, gross!
My squeeky burger toy!
Oh, hallelujah! The prodigal toy has returned!
♪ Hallelujah ♪
♪ Hallelujah, hallelujah ♪
♪ Hallelujah ♪
[gasps] Someone's breached the fortress of slime.
That's mine! Gimme little Ian!
♪ Halle-e-e-e-lu-u-u-jah-h-h-h ♪
Scott, stop it!
[growls]
I mean, the growling.
Oh, right.
All right, break it up, boys.
This is a schoolyard, not a hockey rink.
What's going on here?
Scott took Ian's squeeky burger toy.
Yeah. He's been after it all day.
Because it's mine!
No, it isn't, Scott! It's mine!
I'd expect this from Mr. Wazselewski,
but you, a relatively normal child,
claim ownership of this disgusting dog toy?
Yes.
Ian, can't you just let him have it?
It means so much to him.
Well, yeah, I could, if I wanted to,
but...I don't, so I won't!
This is very suspicious.
I think I can explain.
I know it doesn't make sense--
a 10-year-old boy wanting a dog's squeeky burger toy.
But, you see, I've had it since I was a little pup-- boy.
It was given to me by my very best friend,
and it's much more than just a toy to me, much more.
It's my connection
to memories of happy times and warmth.
We all have things like this
that buy us refuge from a scary world
and remind us of a time when we felt safe.
Yours may go by a different name--
Binky, Blankie, Wubby, Lovey.
It may be as ratty as an old piece of blanket
or as silly as a worn-out Teddy bear,
but whatever it is,
it's something you know
deep in your heart you will always love,
and I'm proud to say I love my squeeky burger toy!
What, am I alone on this?
Does no one else have an attachment to something silly?
No, you're not alone.
I love Lamont.
I love my Mrs. Fluffington.
I love my Bunkie.
I love my Fuzzy Muzzy.
I love Wubby.
I love Mr. Goiter!
[warbles]
[all] Eww!
And I must confess, I love Señor Dingle.
[meows]
Yes, Tallulah, I love you, too.
[computer dinging]
Oh, no!
Someone else is bidding on the squeeky burger toy!
Well, nobody outbids Litterlover.
Try this on for size.
What?! This nudnik thinks he can outbid me?!
No way, José!
Hey, what are you doing?
Well, I wasn't gonna say anything,
but I'm bidding on a one-of-a-kind
original Burmese squeeky burger toy for spot,
but some joker keeps raising my bids.
What?! I'm bidding on a one-of-a-kind
original Burmese squeeky burger toy for spot,
but some joker keeps raising my bids.
You're Greenandmean?
You're Litterlover?
So, you're the one who's been driving up the price!
Me?! You were driving up the price!
All our profits are gone! You spent our nest egg!
I should have known.
You're the only one dumb enough
to pay $50 for a squeeky burger toy.
Oh yeah? It takes one to know one.
[computer dings]
Look, someone else just put in a higher bid.
Oh, no, do something!
We've got to get the squeeky burger toy for--
[beeping]
Oh! Auction closed-- final bid-- $51.
Oh, great.
Thanks to your incessant cat yammering,
someone else got our squeeky burger toy.
Hey, it takes two to yammer.
But on the bright side,
we now have all the money back in our account.
You make a very good point.
Hey, check it out-- a partially eaten seed ball.
I need that!
Ooh! And someone's selling
an indoor grass planter that I just must have.
Boy, I really thought after that speech you gave
Ian would give you back your squeeky burger toy.
It was one of my best, if I do say so myself.
What's the matter, boy?
[growling]
Easy, boy.
Oh, what's wrong, puppy? Are you unhappy?
Well, here. Have a chew toy to play with.
I don't need that old thing, anyway,
'cause I just outbid a couple of doofuses on the Internet
for this!
Pretty neat, huh? [laughs]
♪ I got a squeeky burger, you got none ♪
♪ Neener ♪
I'm sure there's a lesson in there somewhere,
but for the life of me, I can't figure it out.
Just keep walking before he changes his mind.