Maybe.
Full house.
I will give you the part.
That was for a '69 Charger, no?
There. No charges, OK?
Please, just go.
Take me with you.
Sorry, man.
Here, kid.
So, you see, by applying the basic principles...
of the scientific method to the matter...
we learn very quickly that the myth of the Chupacabra...
is just that... utter crap.
Now, if you apply these same principles to Catholicism...
an interesting thing occurs.
Yes?
"English for immigrants" is in el proximo cuarto, numero 206.
So, anyone else have a question?
OK, then.
Well, I hope my lecture has been as enlightening for all of you as it has for me.
Really, you've all been... great.
Interesting lecture as always, Dr. Venture.
I am only sorry there wasn't a better turnout.
It's difficult to hold the students' attention during Dia de los Muertos.
Oh, right... the crazy dead-people Christmas you people celebrate.
What, is that supposed to be today?
Si.
Oh, great. Fantastic of you to tell me that before I came all the way down here.
So, how do we do this?
Do you guys mail me a check, or do I pick it up at the bursar's office or what?
Hey, doc.
How'd your speech thing go?
All right, I suppose.
One or two of the students really seemed to grasp...
you don't really care, do you?
Nah.
Hola, Senor Samson.
See you back at the X-1 in a couple of hours.
- Hey, Pop! - Boys.
This place is tits! Divvy this.
- We got these boss Mexican hats... - Sombreros!
And these super-cool sugar skulls with our names on them.
Ah, there you are. Your check, Dr. Venture.
Muchas gracias.
Super good.
Very generous of y... oh, pesos.
Great. These zeroes are all meaningless.
Damn it. You people have giant bugs around here.
Ah, that is the monarch butterfly.
They migrate here to Mexico this time of year.
The Aztecs believed they were the spirits of the dead returning home.
Wow, but you're full of helpful information, fella!
And how!
Say, it's not poisonous, is it?
I... You're kidding, right?
No, hijo, he's not poisonous.
That's where you're wrong, Mr. College.
Honey, what are you going on about?
Don't call me that in front of the henchmen.
Keep it professional.
It's my old nemesis, Dr. Venture.
He's obviously followed us down here.
Someone must have leaked our whereabouts to him, but who?
All right. Which one of you sold the Monarch out?
Okay, okay.
I'm going to turn around and close my eyes...
and I want the guilty party to step forward.
No judgments. You won't be punished.
Just want to know who did it, OK?
Traitor!
Dirty bastard traitor! I knew it was you, number...
- 37. - Number 37!
Strike him from the roster, Dr. Girlfriend.
- Speedy! - Yes, Monarch.
You're being promoted.
I want you and a phalanx of no less than three...
and no more than five henchmen to go and observe Dr. Venture.
Find out what he's doing here and whether or not he knows about my...
sinister plan.
- Does this mean I'm getting my wings? - No.
I'm never gonna get those wings.
Someday, Speedy, someday.
Here. How about I let you drive the Monarch-mobile?
Horrible disease-carrying things.
But that might have been someone's spirit, Pop.
All the more reason to get it the hell off me.
Look, don't you kids have someplace to be or something?
Well, here! Go... I don't know, buy fireworks or something.
Just go somewhere that's not next to your father.
I have urgent business to attend to with a colleague of mine, Dr. Guevara...
the top man in his field.
I am sorry, Senor Venture.
- Doctor. - Si?
No, Dr. Venture. What's Mexican for doctor?
Doctor.
As I was saying, I simply cannot write you these prescriptions.
What? Why not?
The quantities you have specified are practically criminal.
You have drugs on this list with completely opposite applications...
you have none of the ailments they treat...
But I have tripolar disorder.
- No. - Oh, come on. Look at this place!
I realize I am a Tijuana doctor and all, but even we have scruples.
I could lose my license to practice Mexican medicine.
OK. I see how it is.
And what would you prescribe for Alexander Hamilton?
- Not much. - OK.
How about if, say...
President Benjamin Franklin were to ask you?
Hey, I've been thinking.
Maybe instead of being super selfish with the money Dad gave us...
we should try to do something good with it.
Aw, crud. Like what, brown-noser?
Well, take a look at old H.E.L.P.eR. there.
He's pretty beat up, don't you think?
Well, sure. He looks like...
a dried-out turd on a bad stretch of road. Why?
Hasn't H.E.L.P.eR. always been there for us?
Hasn't he always been, well, super helpful?
Sure, he's great.
Well, do you see what I see?
So you want to buy him car paint?
Leave the thinking to me, Albert Ein-steen.
Let's get 'em!
What? Whoa. No. That's not the plan.
Boss just wants us to observe Dr. Venture.
He's been trying to get that bastard for years...
and what better way than to kidnap his kids?
I'm sure to get my wings if we pull this off.
Bring the Monarch-mobile around.
There they are! Go!
Dad's gonna be so super surprised when he sees...
Mayday! Mayday!
Why?
Guys, heads up.
We got company.
He's got Speedy. Nail him, boys!
Finally. Jeez.
Come on, Speedy.
Wow. He's really on there good.
Wow. That sucked.
What were you thinking?
Bringing them here? Who told you to do that?
Well, we thought that...
Actually, it was Speedy's idea.
Great. So it was Speedy's idea.
Super idea, Speedy. Where is he?
He didn't make it.
What do you mean?
Brock Samson got ahold of him, and he...
Samson. Jeez.
I don't need to hear the rest.
Poor little guy.
He was this close to earning his wings, too.
But see? That's what I'm talking about!
Now Venture will send Samson after the rest of us...
and he'll go totally sickhouse on our asses.
I like my ass, gentlemen.
Samson won't be a problem, sir.
You... no way. Is he dead?
Well, this changes everything.
Without his walking Swedish murder machine...
the good doctor will have to do just what I say, won't he?
Take them to the holding cell.
Hello. This is Dr. Venture.
Attention, Dr. Thaddeus Venture.
This is the Monarch speaking.
I'm currently unavailable right now...
but if you'd like to leave a message, you can do so after the beep.
Thanks, and have a scientastic day.
Attention, Dr. Thaddeus Venture.
This is the Monarch speaking. I have your boys.
If you ever want to see them alive again...
Damn it!
No!
Oh, for the love of... not again!
Wait a minute.
One...
two.
This is serious.
Brock! Come in, Brock!
Brock, seriously, this is an emergency.
Don't screen me.
Oh, H.E.L.P.eR., thank... what the hell happened to you?
Yes, yes. Just...
OK. H.E.L.P.eR.
Just get me back to the X-1.
Where are we?
You're supposed to be the super sleuths. You figure it out.
We're in the belly of the lair of the Monarch's hideout!
Correct, clever boy.
And with you two in my clutches...
I finally have your father right where I want him.
What's your problem with our dad, anyway?
Well, l... he's my nemesis, my archenemy.
I don't think Pop thinks you're his archenemy.
Come on, I'm sure the walls of the Venture compound...
are practically caked with the lingering curses of the Monarch's name.
No.
I've never even heard him mention you.
Hey, I always thought Baron Underbheit was Dad's archenemy.
Underbheit? Why, that dime-store Dr. Doom isn't fit to...
just you wait till your father calls me back!
That should just about do it.
Let's see if I'm half the genius I think I am.
Good news. Looks like I am.
H.E.L.P.eR., you are now my personal walking, talking electric kidney.
Crap.
I'm gonna have to find a more long-term solution.
H.E.L.P.eR., stay close to me. Come.
Kidney!
"No cure."
"Transplant from a healthy donor of the same blood type."
Of course! One of the boys.
Where the hell are the boys?
Boys? Hello? Hank, are you there? Dave? Dean?
Attention, Dr. Thaddeus Venture. This is the Mo...
Listen. You boys don't have any special way...
of getting in touch with your dad I should know about, do you?
I can't seem to get ahold of him.
We usually use our two-way satellite-linked communicator watches.
No. I tried that already. He's not answering.
I've left, like, a hundred messages.
Jeez, you'd think he cared a little more about his kids.
I mean, I'm sure he's worried sick about you two.
He's probably on his way right now...
with the whole Mexican National Guard or something.
It's just a little further, H.E.L.P.eR.
What the hell Brock is doing all the way out here...
when we need him most is beyond me...
but he is going to get a hot little earful when...
I'm gonna go check on those boys.
- What? - Nothing.
No. I know that sigh. What?
When we entered this relationship...
we both agreed that we were both people who did not want kids.
I... what do you expect me to do with them?
I thought their father would show up in no time.
Do you know he's never even told them he loves them?
You know what I think?
I think you're trying to compensate for the loss of your own parents.
You never talk about that.
You want me to talk about it?
Fine. I'll tell you all about that fateful summer...
the summer of the monarchs.
I was a mere eight years old...
practically a caterpillar by butterfly standards.
My parents' private jet crashed in New Jersey's fabled Pine Barrens...
minutes after takeoff from Newark Airport.
Miraculously, I survived.
My parents were not so fortunate.
When I came to, I was surrounded...
by the most enchanting monarch butterflies.
In time, they took me in as one of their own.
They became my foster parents.
These were the halcyon days.
I'd play with my butterfly brethren.
I learned the mysterious secrets of their ancient ways...
supping as their own young do on a steady diet of milkweed...
thus assuring my toxicity to this day.
Then, one fateful morning in September...
I remember because it was right around my birthday...
I was ecstatic by autumn's approach because it meant the leaves of the trees...
would be orange enough for me to build even more convincing monarch wings.
I awoke and looked for my monarch family...
but I couldn't find them.
I searched for days, but no sign of them.
It was like losing my parents all over again...
only much quieter.
So I wandered to the nearest highway, took the first bus to New York...
and claimed a fat inheritance.
It was only later that I learned that monarchs migrate south for the winter...
here, to Mexico.
Oh, Tenderoni, that's the only real reason I've come to Mexico...
to find my foster parents.
My big plan, all that work I've had you doing...
it was just an excuse.
Do you hate me now?
Oh, Sweetie. Butterflies only live about nine months.
What?
But those boys downstairs are alive, and you're right.
They do need a father.
So you go down there and you love those boys and never let go.
Oh, Brock.
How did this happen?
Where was I when you needed me most?
I know, H.E.L.P.eR.
He was like an angel, my beautiful guardian angel...
and this is where it got him.
Brock! You're alive!
It worked! My shrine worked!
It's not all superstitious nonsense.
What?
Oh, God, you're a zombie or something.
I never should have played God!
The folly of it! The hubris!
Boys.
Where are the boys?
Double damn it!
Hank, you said the double "D" word.
How are we ever gonna get this gate open?
Which one of my special boys is in the mood for piping-hot cookies?
Get him!
Oh, so you want to wrestle, eh?
No, you don't.
Nope.
Supposed to be right around here.
He was really specific in all those messages he left.
Got it.
So, what's the plan?
How long can you live if you're not hooked up to him?
Oh, I don't know, a couple hours, maybe, but they'd be very uncomf...
Come on.
H.E.L.P.eR., you drive. Keep her steady.
- Wait a minute. Where are we... - Get in my car.
Quit screwing around.
What the hell was that?
Chupacabra. They're all over Mexico.
No way.
You had me scared for a minute there.
Get his legs!
No fair! It's two of you against one.
I don't know if there's enough Monarch love to go around.
Holy crap!
What is going on here?
Minions! Where are you?
You get the boys. I'll take care of these guys.
Are you sure? There's an awful lot of them.
They hit me with a truck.
What's all that noise?
No time for questions, baby.
Fire up the smaller escape cocoon...
ingeniously housed inside this larger cocoon headquarters!
- Dad! - Dad!
We knew you wouldn't let us down.
Just in the nick of time, too.
Monarch was getting all creepy uncle on us.
You're the best dad in the whole world.
Yes, yes.
Go, Team Venture!
And so your father needs for one of you to donate a kidney...
so that I can keep on living and doing the "best dad in the world" thing.
But... which one of us, Pop?
Well, I haven't decided yet.
I know. Rock, scissors, paper!
- You're on! - Once, twice, three, shoot!
What happened? I thought I had picked rock.
So did I.
And I picked two beautiful kidneys.
I feel freaking amazing.