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"Upwardly Mobile"
Written by: Greg Johnson
Produced and Directed by: Tom Tataranowicz
Executive Producers: Rick Ungar and Tom Tataranowicz
INTRODUCTORY SUMMARY NOTE
Season Two continues its string of great opening episodes ("Steal of the Century," "We're Going to Cheesyland," etc.) with "Upwardly Mobile," a humorous and just all-around fun episode. Not exactly deep fare, but very entertaining.
EPISODE SYNOPSIS
A warning to the hot dog connoisseur planning to visit Chicago: you might want to go somewhere else. It's not that the Windy City doesn't have fine franks. Much to the contrary, they're among the finest in the continental US. The problem is, you might have a hard time getting one if you happen to be in line behind one of the Biker Mice from Mars. Case in point: as this episode opens, we see Modo picking up a large tray of hot dogs (probably twenty or so) from a street vendor. Behind him are dozens of hungry people waiting for their eats.
"Sorry folks, sold out," the vendor says.
Modo walks off, oblivious to the sounds of the angry crowd ripping the vendor into little bits behind him. As he strolls, one of the dogs falls off the tray. Of course, Modo isn't about to let food go to waste (his mother would probably kill him). He simply kicks hacky-sack style before it hits the ground and catches it in his mouth before joining his bros in the alley.
"I dunno, bros," Throttle grumbles. "I got me a feelin' deep down that there's somethin's up."
"Aw, Throttle, chill," Vinnie replies, leaning back on his bike. "It's a great day! Not a cloud in the sky, not a scent of Limburger anywhere."
Modo sits down on his bike, holding the hot dog tray in his right hand.
"Yeah, yeah, this is just a day when nothin's shakin'."
Is it just me, or does Modo always get the setup lines?
Suddenly, a small quake rocks the city. Modo falls off his bike, dumping hot dogs all over himself.
"Was it somethin' ah said?" he asks from the ground.
The micro-quake also causes a truck hauling manhole covers to lose one. It starts bouncing down the street.
"Uh oh! Runaway tiddlywink!" Throttle shouts. He takes off after it, chasing it down a winding street. The cover rolls toward a shop window, where a woman is stacking crystal goblets in a pyramid. She looks up just in time to see the cover shooting up toward her. Luckily, Throttle intercepts it and rides off. The woman breathes a sigh of relief-before another tiny earthquake knocks her off her ladder and sends the display tumbling to the ground. Some days, you just can't win.
"Hot dog it, Vinnie!" Throttle shouts, tossing the disk to his bro. Vinnie catches it on his finger, then whips it at Modo, who knocks it back onto the truck with his arm. The mice have no time to celebrate, however, before another quake hits. The street cracks, grows, and branches quickly into a nearby golf course, where two coots in a golf cart fall into it. They become wedged inside.
"Dang divots!" one of the men shouts.
"Uh oh, bros. No time to putter around!" Throttle shouts.
The mice ride toward the crack. As they approach, they shoot their grappling lines into the pit. A second before the bikes stop short at the edge of the crack, the mice leap off them, perform perfect midair somersaults, and dive inside. They catch their grappling lines on the way down, and come to a stop beside the trapped golf cart.
"Hey gents!" Vinnie says cordially. "Just droppin' in--"
"--to say it's time to pull out," Modo concludes.
Suddenly, the ground begins to quake once more, and the crack begins to close.
"Aw man! Better hurry, bros!" Throttle says.
"Yeah!" Modo quips as the opening narrows. "We're about to become one with the Earth!"
Throttle jumps onto the cart's canopy.
"Afternoon, gentlemen."
The golfers are oblivious to the peril.
"Hey, you ain't gonna try to play through, are ya?" one asks the other.
"Yeah! Not when I'm leadin' by one stroke!" the other replies, motioning to his ball, which lies at the bottom of the crevice. "Gotta play it where it lies!"
"Man!" Throttle laughs. "And they call golf a wimpy sport?"
The ground trembles again, and Throttle grabs the golfers out of their cart against their protests.
"'Fraid this is gonna be a short hole, gents!"
Throttle tosses one golfer to each of his bros. Vinnie and Modo whistle, and their bikes begin drawing them up out of the hole. But before Throttle can get up, the ground swells and snaps shut!
"Throttle!" Vinnie shouts.
Suddenly, a new crack appears in the ground, with rays of bright green light shooting out of it. Throttle flies up out of it, pulled by the force of his Knuke Knucks. He slides to a painful-looking stop, then rises and opens his fist, revealing the golf ball.
"You pounded this hole, all right!" Modo laughs.
Throttle tosses the ball to its owner.
"'Fraid that last hazard cost you a stroke, sir."
"Heh heh!" the other golfer laughs. "All tied up!"
"Dang you interferin' do-gooders!" the former leader snaps. "I got two bits ridin' on this game!"
Throttle shrugs and flips the old man a quarter. The old man bites it to see if it's real, and Throttle shakes his head and rides off.
"Man!" Vinnie sighs. "Anybody who says crime doesn't pay--"
"--oughtta try bein' a hero for a while!" Modo concludes.
The mice leave the course and make a beeline for the Last Chance Garage, where the quakes are still going strong, and Charley is hiding under a table to avoid falling objects (with all the tools and stuff she has hanging on the walls, it's a definite hazard!).
"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Vinnie asks.
"Personally, we mice like to rock and roll," Throttle says.
"Quake got ya rattled?" Modo questions with a grin.
"You look a little shaken," Vinnie adds.
The mice laugh boldly before another quake hits. They quickly abandon their bikes in the doorway to hide under the table with Charley.
"Glad you could join me, heroes," the mechanic says sarcastically.
"Hey, we save our bravery for bad guys, sweetheart, not bad vibes" Vinnie explains quickly.
"Shh! Quiet! Here's the news report!"
On the television, we see an empty desk as the anchor begins speaking. The camera pans around, searching for him, and finally finds him reading the copy from under his desk.
"This just in: according to the Limburger Seismological Institute, a major new fault line seems to be forming in a circular pattern around Chicago at this very moment. Prominent businessman and community leader Lawrence Limburger stresses the critical nature of this alarming development."
A piece of stock footage is shown of Limburger putting an arm around a citizen in a neighborly fashion. The fumes from his body knock the man out in a second, and he wilts onscreen, leaving a puzzled Limburger unsure of what to do.
"Limburger is an alarming development!" Modo sneers.
"Shhh!" Charley hisses. "You guys ever heard of being 'quiet as mice'?"
"No," our heroes reply.
"Ask a silly question…"
Throttle points at the screen and says, "Hey bros, check it out!"
This time, we see a reporter (not Tara Diddle, our usual field agent, although this one is still voiced by Susan Silo) in the suburbs. Behind her is a moving van with a large L on the side, and behind it stands our (least) favorite resident Plutarkian.
"This is the scene all over the city: families flee for their lives, assisted only by the noble generosity of Lawrence Limburger," the woman says quickly.
The Biker Mice hiss, and Charley tries to shush them.
"Quiet in the peanut gallery!" she snaps.
"My dearest citizens of Chicago, I beg--nay, implore you to evacuate the area while there is yet time!" Limburger pleads. Beside him stands a homely woman holding an ugly baby. The baby pulls on Limburger's mask, which snaps back painfully. He sneers at the baby, causing its mother to growl at him. Limburger steps back awkwardly, then continues.
"The resources of Lawrence Limburger Enterprises are yours to call upon in your hurried departure. My only concern is for your property--I mean, your safety!"
Limburger snatches the baby and makes kissy noises at it. The baby pulls away and groans, "Oooh, stinky! Change his diaper, mommy!"
That's all of the broadcast the mice see, because Modo puts his fist through the screen.
"That tears it! This quake has got the stink of Limburger all over it!"
"Yeah, it's an unnatural act, all right," Throttle agrees. "We gotta find out how he's doing it!"
"And why!" Vinnie shouts.
"Well, what do you have in mind?" Charley asks.
Rather unexpectedly, Vinnie answers, "I got a plan, sweetheart!"
"Gee, that's a first," the mechanic says wryly.
Vinnie grins.
Soon, we find the mice and Charley riding down the highway outside of the city. They jump over a broad crack in the road.
"What are we doing way out here?" Charley asks.
"Lookin' for a rumble, Charley-girl!" Modo replies.
"Gonna find just whose fault this is!" Throttle adds.
"These puns are startin' to make me quake," the mechanic groans.
A dust plume in the distance draws the mice's attention to a small caravan of trucks. At the center is a strange motorcycle-like vehicle (dubbed "the Buzz-cycle") with a blazing blue front wheel. Mayhap it's made of energy or something. Whatever it is, it's what's cutting the new fault line around the city, and is responsible for the earthquakes. Who's driving the thing? Greasepit, who cheerfully sings a horribly butchered version of "Born to Be Wild."
Limburger watches from the safety of his limousine. In his hands is a tiny globe, with a disproportionately large Limburger Tower sticking out of it.
"Ah, Chicago," he sighs. "What a pleasant little plot this is. I shall simply cut all of Chicago loose from the Earth, and fly the entire city back to Plutark!"
He tears out the Limburger Tower, and its end lights on fire, as if it did indeed have jets in the bottom. Limburger flies it around the car for a moment, then dumps it in an ashtray.
"Ah, things are proceeding precisely on schedule!"
He hears the sound of motorcycles below, and watches calmly as the Biker Mice roll past.
"Oh, including the inevitable arrival of the resident rodents! Fortunately, their predictability has been planned for."
A small squad of goons races past the trucks and the cutting device toward the mice. Of course, they prove no match for our heroes, who take them out easily (they don't even dignify the attack with witty repartee!). The mice continue past them, barely impeded, toward the caravan.
"If you're plannin' to shake down Chi-town…" Modo growls.
"…then you better be prepared to rumble with the Biker Mice!" Vinnie concludes.
"Rock 'em, bros!" Throttle orders. "Let's whip--"
Suddenly, the trucks come to a dead stop (while Greasepit continues going forward). Their sides drop off to reveal giant machine gun turrets, which turn around and face our heroes.
"--tail," the mice sigh dejectedly. "Uh oh."
They pull to a stop.
"Somethin' tells me they've heard that song before," Throttle muses.
"Yeah, and they're cuttin' in!" Modo adds.
The trucks begin firing. Instead of immediately leading the mice into an attack, Throttle presses a button on his dash, causing a small sidecar to unfold from the right side of his bike (it's really neat, actually). Vinnie picks Charley up with his tail and drops her in.
"Sorry, sweetheart, but this game ain't coed in my book!" Vinnie says as he palms down the screen on her helmet.
"Yeah, time for the big boys to play!" Modo agrees.
Throttle pushes a button on the sidecar, which detaches from his bike and starts driving back down the road by itself.
"Oh yeah?!" Charley shouts as she disappears in the distance. "Well, lemme know if you see any!"
With Charley on her way to safety, Throttle calls out, "Full force radicals, bros! Let's rock--"
"--AND RIDE!" the mice shout, rolling into battle.
Meanwhile, down the road…
"Oooh!" Charley growls, pounding on the sidecar. "Those chivalristic chowder-heads think they can keep me out of danger?"
Just the, she sees Limburger's limo driving away in the opposite direction across the road. The mechanic decides to follow him. She jumps out of the sidecar clumsily and lands in a mud-filled ditch. Undaunted, she pulls off her helmet and clips it on her belt.
"Well, now to find out what Limburger's up to. Let's rock-and, uh, run."
Charley tries to climb out of the ditch, and tumbles down once more.
"Being heroic is harder than it looks," she sighs.
The trucks, meanwhile, are proving pretty formidable foes. Their missile launchers blow giant holes in the highway, finally resulting in a giant pit. The mice are unable to stop in time, and fall in. The goons celebrate, until the mice suddenly pop up out of the crevice, unharmed. Throttle lands on top of one of the round turrets.
"Hey! Wanna go around with me, huh?"
He guns the engine, causing the turret to spin crazily and the goon to get seriously sick.
Modo, meanwhile, uses his bike's laser cannon to blast a huge wave of pavement onto one of the trucks.
"Ain't ya heard? Us bikers can fight dirty."
One of the remaining trucks follows Vinnie, which is exactly what he wants. He presses a button on his dash and laughs, "Land shark away."
No, Vinnie doesn't shoot a "Saturday Night Live" running gag at the goon. Instead, it's a bizarre, sharklike little missile that falls from the rear of his bike. It goes under the pavement, with only its fin visible above the road. The horrified goon can only watch as it disappears under his truck, then resurfaces to take a bite out of his tire. It brings the vehicle to a dead halt, then explodes.
"Yeah!" Vinnie chuckles. "Just when you thought it was safe to go back on the highway…"
Somewhere far away from the battle, Greasepit has almost completed his task. He can see the beginning of his incision just ahead and approaching quickly, and radios in to headquarters.
"Duh, this is Greasepit speakin'. My goons is givin' those mice the business, and I is just about to make ends meet."
Greasepit's Grunge-Mobile pulls up beside the Buzz-cycle. The goon dives off and lands backward on his bike. The Buzz-cycle continues on for a few more feet, then falls into the crevice it's created.
"Duh, mission accomplished boss."
"Good, good, exemplary!" Limburger replies from his limo. "Now that you've completed your task, return to the Tower. We're all going to-heh heh-do launch."
An image pops up on a small video screen. First we see Limburger Tower, and then a giant tangle of jet engines beneath it. Limburger laughs proudly, unaware that his car is approaching a huge crevice. But before his boss can even take notice of the situation, Fred the Mutant jumps out and slings a large board across the chasm. He then stretches across it himself a few feet away, just in time for the limo to roll over it-and him.
"Please! Studded tires next time!" he moans. Fred then grabs the board and jumps back in the car.
Charley, still stuck in the muddy ditch, spots the limo. It hits a rock and the trunk pops open. Seeing her chance, the mechanic jumps up out of the ditch and hops into the open trunk. Unfortunately, the limo hits another bump, and the lid snaps shut.
"Ugh. Typical."
With one truck left to go, the mice decide to team up.
"Hey bros, time to feed the lions," Throttle says.
Vinnie holds up a grenade.
"Got the main course right here!"
"Chock full of vitamins!" Modo chimes.
"Then let's rock--and RAM!" Throttle shouts.
Each mouse stuffs a grenade into one of the cannons. One giant BAKOOM! later, and the final truck is no more. Our heroes slap palms triumphantly and head back to the city.
"Too bad Charley had to miss out on the fun!" Vinnie laughs.
Charley would probably agree with that sentiment. She's still trapped in the trunk of Limburger's limo, and even worse, she's somehow managed to get herself stuck in a tire. She can't get free, because her arms are trapped, too. Every time the car hits a bump in the road, the mechanic gets slammed into the roof, or bounced against the floor.
"This is like bein' on a bad date," she grumbles.
Finally, she manages to get her arms free (although the tire is still stuck around her waist). Another bump slams her against the side of the trunk. Painful as that must be, it allows her to hear Limburger's plan perfectly.
"Now that Chicago has been cut loose like a giant dirt clod," the Plutarkian explains, "and the rocket's nearly fueled, I can fly this city lock, stock, and pork barrel through the galaxy for the grandest, most triumphant Plutarkian homecoming in history!"
"Ooh! Why that megalomaniac monster!" Charley hisses.
Suddenly, the limo hits another bump. This one knocks the trunk open, and Charley goes flying. She hits the street right on the tire, rolls down the street, crashes through a traffic barrier, and falls in another pit (and yes, it's another muddy one).
"Those mice always make it look so easy!"
At Limburger Tower, preparations are underway for blast off. Limburger's office is filled with large, boxy pieces of machinery and walls of dials and switches, and Karbunkle is hard at work on the main control panel.
"What is the delay, Karbunkle?" Limburger asks. "The transformation of my penthouse into a cockpit should have been completed by now!"
"Just finishing, your unctuous unsightliness. It's a sensitive instrument."
Karbunkle throws a switch, but nothing happens. After a moment, he kicks the panel, and instantly, it lights up like a Christmas tree.
"Oooh, excellent!" Limburger cheers. "Then all we need is a pilot proficient in navigating unusual craft."
"I know just the jet jockey, your gracious gouda-ness!" Karbunkle declares. "Prepare to meet--Jet Blaster!"
He pulls a lever on the Transporter. Out floats an odd, triangular-shaped robotic creature. Flames shoot out of nearly every part of his body, particularly his back and mouth. Every breath and word shoots out fiery plumes, one of which burns Limburger's hair to a crisp!
"We lift off in thirty minutes!" he growls in a gravelly yet simultaneously breathy voice. This time, the flames melt off Limburger's mask. Still, the Plutarkian seems fairly unperturbed. He simply rubs his palms together, cooing, "…And counting…"
The Biker Mice return to the garage, and are surprised to find that even though Throttle's sidecar has apparently arrived without a problem, Charley isn't with it. A few moments later, the lady herself stumbles in, covered in dirt, filth, and grime and reeking. Vinnie, being the sensitive guy that he is, laughs and says, "I like the grunge look baby, but I'm not sure if 'Eau de Plutarkian' is your brand of perfume!"
"Real funny," she grumbles. "But if you think this stinks, you should hear Limburger's latest scheme."
"Sweetheart? You know somethin'? We don't."
"That goes without saying. Limburger's cut Chicago loose from the Earth so he can blast it straight into space! He's got rockets fueling under his tower right now!"
"We gotta scrub that mission!"
"And get to the bottom of this!" Throttle shouts. He walks over to a trio of covered objects in the corner and lifts the sheets off, revealing the giant diamond-studded drill attachments for the mice's bikes last seen in "The Reeking Reign of Head Cheese Part Two."
"IT'S TUNNEL TIME!" the mice crow.
The mice quickly drill their way beneath Limburger Tower. There, they see thousands of barrels strewn about, and giant rockets that are almost completely fueled (under heavy guard, of course).
"Wow! Charley-girl wasn't kidding!" Vinnie cries.
"Yeah! There's enough fuel down here to move the Windy City to the next galaxy!" Modo notes.
"Well, let's give 'em an early ignition!" Vinnie laughs. The cannons pop out of his bike, and Modo's as well.
"Don't scratch the itch, bros," Throttle cautions. "We blast this bunker, all Chicago goes with it!"
Unfortunately, Limburger's goons, who have just noticed the mice, are far less concerned about (or at any rate, aware of) the danger. They immediately open fire on the mice, and Throttle calls for a strategic retreat back the way they came.
"Oh, man! We ain't gonna run, are we?" Vinnie groans.
"Just takin' the firefight to a less flammable location, Vinnie my man! Let's rock and ride!"
Limburger watches it all from his penthouse.
"Jet Blaster, my dear hothead, I realize it's not in your job description, but how are you at…roasting rodents?"
The Plutarkian produces a wad of bills, and Jet Blaster snatches it up eagerly.
On the street, the Biker Mice burst up from underground.
"First step: find the Big Cheese!" Throttle shouts.
"Yeah! An' toast his tail!" Modo chimes.
Suddenly, a wall of flame blasts the mice.
"Uh, speakin' of toast…" Vinnie murmurs.
Jet Blaster appears before the mice, a monstrous vision of metal and fire.
"You will be destroyed!" he growls.
The robot quickly goes about proving his supervillain credentials, breathing plumes of flame at the mice. He incinerates mailboxes and just about everything else, but the mice manage to avoid his attacks.
"Whoah! Hot stuff!" Vinnie remarks.
"Let's trash this toaster! Battle mode, bros!"
All the extra cannons pop out the mice's bikes, and they open fire on Jet Blaster, but to no avail: the lasers bounce off his metallic skin. Nothing in the mice's arsenal does any damage. Stunned, they streak past, and are nearly immolated by the seemingly impervious robot.
"Ah think that boy's been eatin' too much taco sauce!" Modo quips, narrowly avoiding another attack.
"Yeah! Even Limburger's breath isn't that tough to take!" Vinnie remarks.
"Phew! You said it!" Throttle agrees. "Time to scrub his mug, bros! Let's rock--"
"--AND RIDE!"
They head for the elevated train tracks, Jet Blaster in pursuit.
"AOOOW!" Vinnie shouts. "He's hot on our tails!"
Modo grabs his tail, flaming thanks to the last attack, and laughs, "Yeah, literally!"
"Time for the hothead to meet cold steel, bros!" Throttle says quickly, thumbing up at the tracks overhead. The mice use their bikes' jets to jump up through the spaces between the track ties. Jet Blaster tries to follow, but, just our heroes had planned, he's struck by an oncoming train. He splats against the windshield like a bug, annoying the conductor.
"Dang dragonflies get bigger every year!" she grumbles, pulling a switch. The wipers brush the buster robot off the train, dropping his remains unceremoniously to the street below.
"Technologies collide!" Vinnie laughs.
Throttle revs his bike.
"Time to cut to the chase, bros. Meet you at Limburger Tower! There's somethin' I gotta do!"
He rides off alone without another word. Vinnie shrugs and says, "When you gotta go, you gotta go." The two mice ride toward Limburger Tower.
In said tower, we find Karbunkle making a few last minute adjustments to Limburger's chair. Since the building will be flying perpendicular to its current position, he has to set the chair so that Limburger is currently sitting vertically, not horizontally.
"Just a few hundreds more pounds of pressure, your bloated belligerence," the scientist explains, "and you'll be sitting pretty." Under his breath, he adds, "If that's possible.
Suddenly, Greasepit runs into the room, shouting, "THEY GOT JET BLASTER! THEY GOT JET BLASTER!" He slips on his own grease and slides right into Limburger, who's launched out of his chair and smack! into his giant VidCom screen. High Chairman Camembert appears on the screen.
"Ahh, Limburger! Good thing you called! Let's have the Plutarkian Greeting, double time."
Camembert turns and presses his butt against the screen-right against Limburger's face.
"If anything could possibly make a Plutarkian lose his worms, this would be it!" Limburger grumbles.
They perform the greeting at double speed, then…
"WHY ISN'T CHICAGO ON ITS WAY TO PLUTARK?!?!" Camembert bellows. The sheer force knocks Limburger off his feet.
"Why, whatever do you mean, my distinguishably dishonorable High Chairman?" Limburger asks, rising. "We're right on schedule! Liftoff is in--uh--sixty seconds!"
He shoots Greasepit a look, and the goon begins broadcasting a rather unorthodox countdown.
"Duh, T minus sixty seconds and counting! Duh, fifty…um…nine seconds? Fifty-two sec--oh, no, wait, lemme start--I mean, uh, fifty-six and countin'--and uh--eighteen--hello NASA, do you read me?"
Camembert watches suspiciously.
"Hmm. Well, not one second late, understand, Limburger? If I don't see that skyline out my window tomorrow morning, I'm going to personally--"
Limburger mutes the transmission. The audience should probably be grateful. He nods attentively and smiles, all the while thinking, Oh, shut your gassy yap up, you scatological scion! Finally, he turns the sound back on.
"--until you squeak!" Camembert concludes. "Are we clear?"
"As crystal, your glutinousness."
"Good! Have a stinky day!"
The VidCom turns off, and Limburger turns to his subordinates.
"Time for a drastic departure from our previous plans, my unworthy employees," he says quickly. "If Jet Blaster is no longer available to pilot this craft to Plutark, I shall simply have to attempt it myself." He chuckles. "I must confess, I've always fancied myself in the role of fighter jockey. Hmmm. I wonder what this one does?"
Limburger presses a button, and sets off a number of alarms. He frantically begins pressing more buttons to try and turn them off. Eventually, he manages the trick.
"Uh, no. Perhaps this next button…"
Karbunkle and Greasepit look at each other in alarm, then scramble to their suits and buckle every seatbelt available.
"Duh, t minus forty-two seconds and still countin'…" Greasepit begins. "Uh, duh, forty-eight…forty-three, hut, hut! Hike, hike! Uh, duh, no, wait, that ain't it. Lemme start over. Sixteen…fifty-nine…three…no, naw….lemme see here, where's my slide rule…?"
Outside, Vinnie and Modo wait impatiently for their absent bro, severely tempted by the flocks of goons and high-powered weaponry guarding the tower. Finally, Vinnie turns and says, "Man! Look, I'm tired of waiting for Throttle! Let's heat things up before I fall asleep!"
"Yeah, he snoozes, he loses," Modo agrees. "We got tail t'whip!"
The two mice mount their bikes and begin an all-out offensive on the tower.
Inside, Limburger is still trying to figure out the control panel. He presses a square button, and offscreen, we hear a toilet flush.
"Oooh, that's a good one to remember," he notes.
Suddenly, he spots the ignition button. He listens impatiently to Greasepit's countdown, still stuck at "Eleven-teen," then interrupts, "Three-two-one-zero!" He hits the ignition button, and, after a bunch of lights flash and sirens go off, absolutely nothing happens.
"Blast!" Limburger curses. He grabs a microphone. "The ignites have failed. Initiate manual ignition procedure!"
Below the tower, Fred listens with glee.
"My life is complete!" he laughs, racing over to the rockets. He strikes a large road flare against the ground, igniting it, and holds it up to a gigantic fuse. It burns and starts the rockets. Their flames toast the little mutant, who, quite frankly, couldn't be happier. He croons, "Fly me to the moon," as he ignites another set of rockets (and gets toasted again).
Outside, Throttle and Vinnie take out the goons and cannons easily. Unfortunately, it does nothing to stop the rockets, as evidenced by a sudden earthquake.
"Looks like this might be a rising real estate market," Vinnie comments.
"And away we go!" Limburger cries, pushing the final lever.
The entire city shakes, then begins rising quickly out of the ground.
Vinnie and Modo glance around, uncertain of what to do, when they suddenly hear Throttle's voice.
"Gang way, goons! I got some cuttin' up to do!"
They turn and see their bro at the wheel of the Buzz-cycle, slicing easily through the goons' dune buggies and weaponry (riding without his helmet, very dangerous!). He cruises up beside Vinnie and Modo and asks, "Hey, what are you bros waitin' for? Let's rock--"
"--AND RIDE!" they chorus.
Throttle turns and begins racing toward Limburger Tower.
"Stand clear, bros, 'cause I'm about to cut the cheese!" he shouts.
"Eww! Bad!" Vinnie groans.
Throttle uses the Buzz-cycle to describe a circle around Limburger Tower while the Plutarkian watches, horrified. Cut loose from the rest of the city, Limburger Tower blasts off for Plutark alone-accidentally hitting the moon instead. Chicago falls back into place with a gigantic THUD.
"Fly free, Limburger!" Throttle crows.
Hours later, our heroes and Charley are enjoying a moonlight cookout next to Lake Michigan. On the radio, Tara Diddle informs listeners that Chicago has returned to normal, and citizens are returning to their homes. Charley yawns and turns it off.
"What a day, huh?"
"Uplifting," Modo agrees.
"My spirits were raised," Vinnie replies, stretching.
"My, my, pretty lofty discussion we're having," Throttle adds.
"Not to mention corny," Charley says with a grin. "But speakin' of high-brow, I wonder what the Big Cheese is up to?"
As it happens, a severely PO'd Limburger is chasing Karbunkle and Greasepit across the lunar surface.
"Curse you clumsy cretins! Come back here!"
Limburger snags a golf club from a sack lying next to the American flag as he bounds past.
"I want to demonstrate a new game I've invented! You play it with a club and a couple of empty heads!"
Still swinging, the Plutarkian and his henchmen disappear in the distance.
(duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh!)
MY FEELINGS ON THE EPISODE
Hands down: this is one of the best Season Two episodes. It's a tight, fun adventure, hilarious, and just totally fun overall. No character building, no serious moments-just fun.
"Upwardly Mobile" is very smartly written. If you ignore the implausibility of a little thing like the Buzz-cycle being able to separate Chicago from the entire rest of the planet, and that of a set of rockets being able to lift an entire city into space (and if you can't suspend your disbelief at least that far, you shouldn't be watching this show), then it's one of the funniest episodes of Season Two. This one is absolutely packed with puns (including the clever one in the title), along with some slightly racy humor (Charley's "bad date" joke). Visual gags also abound. My personal favorite was the news footage of Limburger, with both the fainting citizen and the growling momma. The action is pretty good too. While Jet Blaster proved a one-note bad-guy (albeit a really neat-looking one), the way the mice beat him was something clever and new (especially rewarding because it draws on the unique urban characteristics of Chicago). A cleverer invention was Throttle's sidecar, which also appears in "Back to Mars Part One." That thing still amazes me. It's so cool! Overall, Bravissimo, Greg Johnson! Bravissimo!
The animation on this one was also high quality throughout, and especially high in a few places, like the scene in the Last Chance following the first quake. And the shot of Throttle in the Buzz-cycle has always been one of my favorites. The music is about average, and the voice acting is typically good. Just since this is in my notes, I feel the need to share it with you as I wrap this one up: Limburger's license plate reads "Limbo."
Bizarrely, for an episode I liked this much, I just don't have much to say about it. It's just damn fun.
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