Dr. Venture is determined to reinvigorate his social life, and Brock finds out that he must renew his license to kill.
Dr. Venture: Crap, who am I kidding? My looks are going down the toilet faster than an unwanted pregnancy on prom night.
Dr. Venture: Well, I guess this is goodbye. I’ll always remember these last few days as the happiest of my life. Besides the caterpillar part, I mean.
Agent Tester: Well, let’s see here Mr. Samson. On the driving portion you totaled every car but the one you were driving. On the pistol range you refused to use a gun, and, oh, ha, here’s my favorite, on the written you drew the little guy with wings from the Led Zeppelin records.
Brock: Icarus. So, uh, what are trying to tell me here, little man, that you don’t like Zep? [Tester stands and rips the written portion in half]
Agent Tester: My father is General Trayster. You saved his life. The man spoke of you as a god. [pause] And you did not disappoint.
Brock: Oh yeah. I used to babysit you.
Dean: Hear that? I’m in charge. I think it’s just about little Hanky’s bed time.
Hank: Oh, take a bow. [Hits him in the crotch]
Bartender: [To Brock] You got it, ape-drape. [Brock growls] One bud for captain mullet head. [Brock begins to draw his knife]
Bartender: [as Brock leaves] Leavin’ us so soon, hockey hair? [Brock represses a scream because he isn’t allowed to kill him]
Agent Tester: This test will, uh, test your proficency with firearms, so-
Brock: Uh uh. No guns.
Agent Tester: The nine millimeter glock is standard issue to all agents in the field. You’re required-
Brock: Guns are for sissies.
Hank and Dean: Hey Brock!
Brock: Go to bed. [walks past the door dejectedly, then walks back in] Why would you dress like that? [Dean is in his underwear with a number of socks wrapped around his head]
Hank: Dean lost a bet, and now he’s my slave, and he’s refusing a direct order!
Brock: Never welch on a bet, Dean. You be a man. Drink it. [Hank is offering some green liquid with various substances floating in it] Then go to bed. You’re father’s gonna be… coming… [leaves mumbling dejectedly]
Dean: Brock looks like hell.
Hank: Drink it.
Dr. Venture: No. No no no. Bad H.E.L.P.E.R. We don’t do that. [H.E.L.P.eR is eating test tubes] Do not eat test tubes! Come here! [H.E.L.P.E.R. backs away] I’m not playing games here. [A hole burns through H.E.L.P.eR’s stomach] Aw, you don’t feel well? Well what did you expect, mixing acids and bases there.
Dr. Venture: So I said “listen, my Dad invented UNIVAC, so I think I would know!” Well, that uppity T.A. didn’t give me any more trouble the rest of the semester.
Dr. Girlfriend: [forces a laugh] You dog, you.
Hank: [hands Brock a tiny lunchbox] I packed a lunch for you. Bologna and cheese. And cut the crusts off the way I like.
Dean: And I downloaded a bunch of crib notes into your communicator watch. You get stuck on one of the hard questions, you just check what time it is.
Dr. Venture: What you are about to see is a nightmare, inexplicably torn from the pages of Kafka!
(he emerges from under the sheets)
Hank: Holy crap! What happened?
Dr. Venture: Apparently this is the reward I get for years of screwing with super-science. In short, I pissed in God’s eye, and he blinked.
Dean: No worries, Brock. I’ll walk you through the written portion. Question 1: You’re in Prague. A sniper’s in the window above you. There’s an alligator behind you, and a grizzly bear in front of you. What do you do? Do you-
Brock: Back somersault, pry off the alligator’s jaw, use it as a boomerang to take out the sniper. When he falls out the window, the grizzly’ll go straight for the easier meal.
Dean: Uh… the answer’s C.
Brock: [stops] Hank, seriously, you know when I get my license back I can kill you.
Hank: Oh. [Hurriedly removes his foot] Sorry, Brock.
Brock: [He eyes a glass of raw eggs that Hank has given him] Did you spit in this?
Hank: Don’t eyeball me, Samson! Drink it!
Brock: [pause] No.
Dr. Venture: You don’t need a license for operation “Get Me Some”.
The Monarch: Tell him you’re going out with the girls tonight or something, I don’t care!
Dr. Girlfriend: He’s not buying it.
The Monarch: Ooo! Tell him you think it’s moving too fast.
(a stripper performs for Brock and Dr. Venture)
Dr. Venture: Quick, Brock, what do I do?
Brock: Give her a fivespot.
(Venture clumsily puts the bill into the stripper’s thong but fumbles for change)
Hank: (gives Brock a glass of raw eggs) When I’m through with you, you’re gonna eat lightning and crap thunder!
Dean: Looks more like he’s gonna eat eggs and crap….eggs.
Dean: Don’t worry, Brock. You’ll be able to kill guys again in no time!
Brock: Little worried about that hickey, Doc. [Dr. Venture’s is halfway covered in swelling redness]
Dr. Venture: Oh, Brock. I’m not falling in love!
Brock: That’s not what I-
Dr. Venture: And what would be wrong with that if I was? The boys need a new mommy. Rusty needs a new mommy.
Hank: We don’t even know who our old mommy was.
Dr. Venture: Oh, that’s right. I’ve never told you about her. Well, it’s a sad- [horn honks outside] Well, that’ll be Charlene! Gotta run, boys!
Dr. Venture: Oh, you’re back! You didn’t miss much. Oh, one of them [the strippers] was dressed like a cheerleader and said she was 19, but she had a Caesarean scar and her face had more lines on it than a mirror at Studio 54.
Dean: Well, I scored your sample test, Brock. Well, you did better than Hank did, but let’s just say you’ll have to do awfully well on the physical portion.
Hank: No problem. Training begins now! [takes Brock’s dinner and gives him a glass of eggs] Your ass is mine, Samson!
Dr. Venture: Grandpa. How dare they? I’m only 43. I’m still a young man. Maybe a little frayed around the edges, but who wouldn’t be between my work and raising two boys?
Bartender: Hey, if it isn’t Frankenmullet. What can I do you for? [Brock slaps his new liscense to kill on the bar. The bartender turns, looks at it, and Brock launches over the bar at him]