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"TEST OF FRIENDSHIP"
Written By: Julianne Klemm
Produced By: Tom Tataranowicz
Directed By: Tom Tataranowicz
Executive Producer: Rick Ungar
INTRODUCTORY SUMMARY NOTE
"Test of Friendship" is a bit more standard American animated series fare--heavy on morals stated so plainly that even a mildly retarded chimpanzee could get it. Today's lesson: even if you get in a fight with your friends, that's only temporary, and you can always make up. The diamond in the rough part of the episode is the villain of the piece, Evil Eye Weevil, an extraterrestrial Elvis look-alike who--and I am not totally sure this is scientifically possible, so don't quote me on this--may actually have an ego larger than Vinnie's!
I knew you wouldn't believe me.
EPISODE SYNOPSIS
If you give Lawrence Limburger credit for nothing else, at least make sure that you note this: he's at least smart enough to know that the best time to pull off his natural resource robberies is at night. That's why, at an hour when most sensible people are in bed, we find him at the Chicago trainyards, about to attempt another stupendous heist. With him (as always) are Greasepit and Karbunkle (for once, Fred the Mutant isn't driving the limo. Maybe Limburger finally wised up).
As Limburger's limo pulls to a stop next to the tracks, Greasepit quickly jumps off his three-wheeler and makes his way to the rear of the car. He opens the trunk and begins rooting through it, tossing out swim rings, basketballs, teddy bears, toilet plungers, lit bombs, and baby bottles (which makes me wonder what in the HELL Limburger does in that car). Finally, he pulls out a small Transport Tunnel generator (it looks like a tripod with a small rocket set on top).
"Would you hurry, you misapplied misanthrope," Karbunkle hisses, joining Greasepit at the rear of the limo.
But Greasepit has all the natural grace of a nearsighted hippopotamus, so even before Karbunkle can finish his sentence, the goon is stumbling across the tracks, actually tripping over his own two feet. As if this wasn't bad enough, his greasy hands can't keep a good grip on the machine. The goon finds himself half-juggling the device as he struggles to regain his balance.
"Be careful, you dimwitted disaster! That's a delicate instrument!" Karbunkle orders.
Suddenly, Greasepit bumps into a wooden barrier. He falls, and the Transport Tunnel generator flies out of his hands, sails through the air--
--and lands on exactly the right spot, completely unharmed.
"There!" Greasepit says triumphantly, lying on the railroad track. "Delicately placed right where youse wanted!"
Karbunkle sighs and grumbles, "Greasy-fingered gibbon."
The scientist pulls out a small silver remote control. He points it at the Transport Tunnel generator and clicks one of the buttons. Immediately, a pale blue field emanates from the machine, directly in front of Greasepit.
One of the limo's doors open, and out steps Limburger, who would obviously like to step things up a little.
"If you pathetic poltroons have concluded your little display of ineptitude--" he snaps.
A train whistle pierces the night air.
"--the ore train appears to be on time."
Just a little note here: I rode the rails in Chicago once, so I tell you with the utmost certainty that Limburger's last statement is the most glaring error the writers ever made in this series.
Greasepit, knowing this is no time to lie down on the job--har har!--tries to make his way to his feet. However, the ground is so slick with his own drippings that he quickly slides right into the Transport tunnel--but only to his waist. So while his lower half remains in Chicago, his upper body is thousands of miles away, hanging above a Space Holding Bin. For a moment, the goon looks down at the ruined buildings and whatnot below him, but only for a moment, as he's suddenly jerked back through the tunnel by Limburger.
"My dear obsequious Greasepit," the Plutarkian snarls at his head henchman, "if I wanted you in orbit, I'd have kicked you there myself! Now go man that switch!"
With that, Limburger punts Greasepit across the yard and headfirst into said track switch. The impact does what Greasepit was supposedly to do manually--namely, change the track the ore train is coming in on to the one that leads directly into the Transport tunnel and right into the Space Holding Bin.
"Whoa!" the goon says, dazzled by his performance. "Good job, huh boss?"
It's only then that he notices that his foot has become lodged between the two tracks. Greasepit tugs and pulls, and eventually wrenches it free--sending himself flying in the process.
Limburger and Karbunkle do what they always must try to do around Greasepit--ignore him--and stand together at the Transport Tunnel. Limburger has a small brown rock (presumably, a piece of the ore he's after this evening) in his hand. As always, Karbunkle makes the most of this chance to kiss some ass.
"Yet another ingenious plan, your cream cheesiness," he purrs.
"Yes!" Limburger agrees (who's going to argue with a compliment like that?). "Why soil ourselves digging I can simply steal a whole trainload of iron ore? That train will enter the Transport Tunnel--"
He throws the rock through the Tunnel. It suddenly reappears, just as Greasepit did, above the Space Holding Bin. The rock falls and joins the clutter of stolen land and buildings below.
"--and be instantly transported into space for delivery to Plutark!" Proudly, he adds, "A brilliant plan if I do say so myself. It simply can't fail."
He's really asking for it there, isn't he? It's Greasepit who interrupts his boss's reverie.
"D-duh Boss?"
"Not now, dear boy. I'm enjoying myself."
"That brilliant plan of yours?"
"Yes? What of it?"
"It just got infested--with mice!"
Greasepit points to the oncoming train, and what should be a moment when Limburger can feel victory in his grasp becomes a moment of horror, for ramping and riding their way across the ore-filled train cars are the Biker Mice, singing, "Last train to Chi-town, we'll be jammin' at the station!" to the tune of, obviously, "Last Train to Clarksville."
Or at least, it should become a moment of horror. Limburger actually seems relatively unconcerned. I guess there's something to be said for having confidence in your schemes succeeding against all odds, even if they fail 99.99999% of the time.
"Well, if it isn't the ubiquitous Biker Mice," he says coolly. "Greasepit, if you would, please?"
As the mice race ahead of the train (once again, they're singing: this time, it's "trouble ahead, trouble behind", and I have no idea what song that's from), Greasepit suddenly fires a round from an oil drum on his back. While he doesn't hit the mice head-on, he does manage to hit the ground below their tires, causing them to start skidding--
--just as they catch sight of the Transport Tunnel, which they're heading straight for.
"There really is trouble ahead!" Throttle shouts in disbelief.
"I told you the moldy oldie couldn't resist a train of iron ore!" Throttle says as he and his bros deftly avoid Greasepit's shots (having finally achieved traction once again). "Vincent! Follow me! Modo, go stop the train!"
"Oh, yeah, sure!" Modo grumbles, throwing his hands up in the air. "Give me the easy job!"
"You can handle it!" Throttle shouts back as he and Vinnie race off.
Modo glances back at the oncoming locomotive, then uses his bike's jets to flip him and his bike up onto the roof of the train. Inside, the engineers, who have been playing checkers up until this point, wonder what the sound was--until Modo appears in the window (upside down, as he's hanging from the train's roof).
"'Scuse me--" he says (polite as ever).
Both engineers scream. One jumps into the other's arms, scared out of his wits.
"--but would ya'll mind stoppin' the train?"
"It's a train robbery!" one of the engineers shouts.
"That's ridiculous!" the other snaps back. "We're carrying two hundred carloads of dirt!"
"Hit the skids, boys!" Modo shouts, climbing down on the side of the train and punching his fist straight through the wall. The mouse grabs the brake lever and pulls with all his might--which turns out to be too much. The lever snaps off in Modo's hand.
"Uh oh."
Throttle and Vinnie, in the meantime, have grabbed a large wooden plank, which they quickly use to bowl over Greasepit and Karbunkle. Limburger's henchmen go flying, and the mice exchange a high five.
"Two out!" Vinnie chirps.
"Now for the clincher," Throttle agrees.
On top of the train, Modo finishes tying a rope to the back of his bike in a last-ditch effort to keep it from heading straight into the Transport Tunnel. Once the line is secure, he jumps back on his motorcycle and leaps it off the end of the locomotive. The other end of the rope, we discover, is attached to a metal clamp that has been fastened on the train's rear car.
As Modo races in the opposite direction, the rope suddenly pulls taut, and Modo begins sliding backward along the track, trying to build up enough speed and force that he can slow down and stop the train. It seems immediately to be a losing battle, but bit by bit, the train begins to lose speed. But the Tunnel is getting closer and closer!
Modo's back tire glows red-hot. Inches of mud rest on either side of it.
Suddenly, the train's spotlight enters the Tunnel--
--but the rest stays put on the outside.
Limburger decides to cut his losses, and drives off. But not quickly enough, for he spots Throttle and Modo in his rear view mirror. The Plutarkian speeds up, trying desperately to get away from him.
"I'd say it's time for a Big Cheese sandwich," Throttle tells his amigo.
"Oooh, you been readin' my mind, bro," Vinnie replies, grinning.
The two-thirds of the Biker Mice present and accounted for race up to the limo and flank it on both sides. Limburger quickly realizes that he's in for a major hurt if he stays put, so he squeezes out through the skylight and worms his way out of the car. He rolls down a hill and into a river just as his car enters the Transport Tunnel. It ends up in the Space Holding Bin, along with everything Limburger has stolen from Chicago (there's almost a kind of poetic justice in that).
Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie pull up to the side of the river bank.
"Guess you missed your train, sweetheart!" Vinnie catcalls, waving.
"Now the Big Cheese is all wet!" Modo laughs, holding the Transport Tunnel generator under his arm.
As Limburger floats downstream, he curses the Biker Mice, warning them that he'll have their tails for this. The mice just laugh and watch as the Big Cheese goes over a waterfall.
"You can try…" Throttle calls out.
"But it ain't gonna happen…" Modo shouts.
"'Cause we're the baddest mamajammers in the universe!" Vinnie concludes, pumping a fist in the air.
And, as usual, the Biker Mice ride off triumphantly, Limburger's latest scheme foiled.
Mid-afternoon of the next day finds Limburger at his tower.
"Again, we have failed miserably," he moans, wringing the last droplets of liquid from his water-logged mask. He shakes it out and slips it on.
"But why? Why are these infernally infuriating Biker Mice so darn difficult to defeat?"
"Perhaps it's their unique diet of hot dogs and root beer," Karbunkle suggests, "combined with, uh--"
"Don't try my patience, you hydrocephalic head case," Limburger snaps. "I want answers!"
He turns his wrath on Greasepit.
"And you! You were supposed to be my main mouse mauler! Yet you continuously permit them to pummel your posterior!"
"Gee, boss, that ain't fair!" Greasepit answers, trying to defend himself. "It's always three against one (he holds up only two fingers when he says this)! Now, if they was alone…"
"WELL THEY'RE NOT--" Limburger begins to shout. He pauses for a moment, eyes lighting up.
"--alone?" he concludes, a smile in his voice. "Ahhhhh, alone! Yes, that gives me an idea!"
He strolls over to the window and peers out thoughtfully.
"The reason those Biker Mice are virtually unbeatable is because they work so well as a team. In order to conquer them, they must be divided!"
"Duh, you mean like cut 'em in little tiny pieces?" Greasepit asks curiously.
"No, you oily oaf!"
The Plutarkian snatches a handful of slime worms from the bowl on his desk.
"We need to make them fight amongst themselves, split up. Then, when each mouse is alone, we'll get them…one…"
He sucks up a single slime worm.
"…by…."
Sucks up some more.
"…one!"
Sucks up the last remaining few. Limburger wipes his mouth with his handkerchief.
"But Boss," Greasepit protests, "those Biker boneheads are best buddies. How're we gonna get 'em to fight each other?"
Limburger casually strolls over to where Karbunkle is standing.
"Karbunkle?" the fish asks.
The scientist pulls a remote control from his pocket (he's either got a bunch of them, or a souped up version of those "four-in-one" jobs) and presses a button. The patch of floor they're standing on sinks down.
As he and Limburger sink down through the levels of the building, Karbunkle says, "I know just the ne'er-do-well for the job, your fragrant fulsomeness. A villain with a hostility ray!"
In the laboratory, Fred the Mutant is sweeping the floors. By divine intervention (or at least, he'd be likely to think so), the spot he happens to be working on at the moment happens to be just where Limburger and Karbunkle land. Fred is squashed beneath the platform.
"Oooh, that's nice," the masochistic mutant warbles happily.
Karbunkle, oblivious to the fact that he's just turned his assistant into a puddle of goo, continues as he strolls over to a large control panel.
"I'll set the Transport Chamber for that master of nastiness, that duke of disaster, Evil Eye Weevil and his Pukes of Hazard!"
The scientist presses the necessary buttons, and the Transporter jumps to life.
"Not Evil Eye Weevil!" Limburger shouts, shaking his head frantically. "He's an grandstanding, arrogant, hostile maniac! He's completely out of control!"
The Transporter gives off a last round of sparks before its doors part to reveal a purple-skinned alien resembling nothing so much as a living skeleton with an over-the-top pompadour. One of his eyes is bright orange and heavily lined with red, as if he hasn't slept in the days (the other looks just fine, if you were wondering).
"Oh, yeaaaahhh!" he croons, riding a nasty-looking motorcycle out of the Transport Booth. His ride is a short one--two seconds later, we see his mangled body lying on the ground.
Another pair of aliens, also purple-skinned, appear in the Transport Booth. Both sport pompadours similar to Evil Eye's. One has bright orange hair and has a mildly retarded look on his face, while the other is more buff with purple hair and sunglasses. Both are sitting in cars approximately the same size as Power Wheels. Neither one looks like they're exactly MENSA material.
The two midget extraterrestrials then race out of the Booth like Evil Eye, and also like Evil Eye, they crash almost immediately after exiting. The entire twisted mess of metal and strange little spacemen rises up into Limburger's office on the same platform the Plutarkian and Karbunkle used to go down into the library.
"Hey Evey!" one of the Pukes (the violet-headed one) cries, meaning Evil Eye, as he pulls himself out of the wreckage. "Is this Kalamazoo? Maybe we'll even see ELVIS THE KING while we're here!"
"Ee-Yeah!" the redheaded Puke agrees.
Evil Eye pulls himself out. Several of his limbs are twisted around in ways that we all know limbs aren't supposed to go. However, he's more concerned with other aspects of his appearance, whipping out a mirror and asking, "How's my hair? Perfect! And I'm still in one piece….sorta."
The alien screams a little (apparently having noticed the odd positions his arms are in). Instantly, the Pukes rush to his air, each one grabbing an arm and yanking on it as hard as they can. Evil Eye screams again ("I-yi-yi-yi!"), and as he does, a bright red beam emerges from the orange eye. It shoots through one of Limburger's window and hits a secretary in the next building over.
For a moment, everything seems totally ordinary (other than the fact that this secretary has a red halo around her head). Not that the boss would notice--he's thoroughly engrossed in his Gameboy (just so everyone knows, that's the series' executive producer Rick Ungar providing the voice of the boss). As her boss talks, the secretary gradually gets pissed, walks over to where he's sitting, and picks him up in his chair, carrying him over to the window. He remains oblivious to his secretary's sudden mutiny the whole time.
"…Oh, and Hiya(?), I'll need more coffee, FYI…could you fill out my drivers' license renewal and the invitations to Jen, Mike, and Morgan's birthday, as in b-day, parties, excellent, oh and love, while you're at lunch, pick up an anniversary gift for Kathy, excellent, oh and yes, and tell Bob that if he doesn't get here on time--"
"SHUT UP!" the secretary screams. "YOU CAN TAKE THIS JOB AND SHOVE IT!"
And with that, she drops him out the window. You gotta admit, the guy had it coming.
A delighted Limburger watches the spectacle unfold from his skyscraper via binoculars.
"Your hostility ray appears to be effective," he purrs. The fear in his voice of the "uncontrollable" Evil Eye is gone, replaced by delight. He may have finally found someone who can take down the Biker Mice. "Might I inquire how long the effect will last?"
"Only a couple minutes," Evil Eye replies. "But that's all it takes for a major fight, right?"
"Wonderful. All I need to do now is to lure those mice from their rat hole."
Limburger scans the city and surrounding area, then pauses at a wildlife refuge. He ponders telling the media that he's planning to destroy it.
"But Boss," Greasepit asks, "won't that make people mad?"
"It's a ploy, you pathetic palooka!" Limburger snaps, turning away from the window. "A ploy to lure out those meddling mice!"
"Oh, oh, a ploy!" the goon cries, feigning a sudden burst of intelligence. "I knew that." He then turns to Evil Eye and whispers, "What's a 'ploy'?"
At Quigley Field, meanwhile, the Biker Mice and Charley are enjoying a freewheeling game of soccer. Very literally a 'freewheeling' game of soccer, as they're all on their motorcycles.
Charley heads downfield toward the ball, then passes it with her front tire to Throttle. He doesn't see it coming, however, and the ball hits him smack in the head. The tan-furred mouse comes to a screeching halt and pulls his helmet off, obviously in pain.
"This game's really rough on the old antenna," he moans, rubbing them.
Play goes on around him, however. The ball is lying stationary on the field, and both Modo and Vinnie try to get it (in all fairness, Modo does call it). The two of them race for it, neither one willing to just pull back and let the other one get it. As a result, they slam right into each other.
Fortunately, nobody's hurt, but boy, are they pissed.
"You big lummox! Watch where you're goin'!"" Vinnie shouts, whole body tense with anger.
"Watch it yourself!" Modo snaps back. "I had the ball!"
Throttle intervenes before a fistfight gets underway.
"Bros, chill," he counsels. "It's a friendly game, remember?"
Vinnie drops the fist he was drawing back to punch Modo with and murmurs, "Yeah. You're right, it's cool."
Modo grins.
"Sorry, Vinnie m'man!"
He punches Vinnie playfully.
"Didn't mean to wreck the game!"
Another punch.
Vinnie grins back.
"Naw, it's my fault!"
He socks Modo.
"Tell ya what--you get a free kick!"
Another punch.
But before Modo can answer with another haymaker, the mice hear Sweet Georgie Brown, their favorite DJ, break through the music with an urgent news bulletin (for those of you who don't know what Sweet Georgie Brown's voice sounds like, think "California surfer beach bum", and that'll give you some idea).
"Whoa! We interrupt this rockin' set to bring you a bummer news flash, buddies! The Big Cheese, Lawrence Limburger, has just announced his plans to clear-cut the Limburger Wildlife Pres-er-erve! Looks like wipeout time for our furry friends in the forest! Later bros!"
"Now that really stinks!" Vinnie cries, pounding a fist into his open hand. Apparently it was a little harder than he meant it to be, because he winces immediately afterwards.
"Yeah, just like Limburger," Throttle agrees.
"Nobody hurts furry friends while we're around!" Modo growls, mounting his bike. "Let's go cream his cheese!"
The four of them pump their arms in the air, ready for the upcoming fight, but Charley quickly discovers that there's something wrong with her bike. She tells the mice that she'll have to head back to the garage before she joins them at the Preserve.
"Hey sweetheart," Vinnie says with a wink, "room for two on my bike."
"Yeah. You and your ego," she zings back.
Throttle and Modo laugh.
"I guess she told you, loverboy," Throttle taunts.
"Funn-ee. Let's roll!"
"Save that forest, guys!" Charley shouts, waving. "I'll catch up with you later!"
"It's time to Rock--" Throttle calls.
"--AND RIDE!" the mice shout, zooming out of the Field.
Soon, the Biker Mice arrive at the Limburger Wildlife Preserve. The Big Cheese watches them zip through the woodlands through a pair of binoculars. He laughs ominously.
"It seems the bait was successful," he says proudly from Limburger Tower (this time, he had the good sense to keep his distance from the mice). "Our little lab rats are headed right for the trap."
He scans another area of the forest, this time homing in on a long wooden ramp, at the end of which is Evil Eye Weevil and the Pukes of Hazard.
"But from this trap there will be no escape!"
He laughs us into the commercial break. When we come back, Limburger is still looking through the binoculars, and he provides us a bit of a plot recap.
"Those motorcycle-riding morons are about to undergo their greatest test--a test of friendship. A test I'm ensured they shall fail."
"You know, bros," Throttle comments as they continue riding through the wooded expanse, "somethin' seems to be wrong here."
"You mean, like, trees?" Modo asks.
"Yeah," Vinnie agrees. "If Limburger was gonna cut this place down, you'd think he would've started by now."
"Maybe he had a change of heart," Modo suggests.
"He doesn't have a heart," Throttle murmurs, pulling to a stop. His bros pull up beside him.
"No. I think it's somethin' else."
"Like what?" Vinnie asks.
"Like a trap."
Meanwhile, back on the ramp, Evil Eye is getting ready to begin the operation that (Limburger is praying) will split the Biker Mice for keeps.
"Aw, you sure you guys don't wanna try it?" Evil Eye asks the Pukes in a mocking tone. He twists the gas, and emits a cloud of gray smoke right in his henchmen's faces. Instantly, the two of them are covered in black ash.
"The thought of it just makes us sick," the purple-haired Puke replies.
"Ee-yeah," the redhead coughs.
"Oh, that's right," Evil Eye laughs, pulling on a helmet-that only protects his carefully coifed do. "Ah forgot. You weenies don't have the stomach for it like ah do!" He laughs some more. "Ooh, it's great bein' the greatest daredevil in the galaxy!"
With that, Evil Eye takes off up the ramp, jets blazing. Another cloud of smoke covers the Pukes. Soon they're burnt almost black as pitch.
"Just burns me up when he does that," the purple-haired Puke sighs.
"Ee-yeah," the redhead answers.
Evil Eye flies off the top of the ramp, just over the heads of the unsuspecting Biker Mice.
"Wa-hoo!" he howls. "I'm a lean, mean, hostility machine!"
Suddenly, his hostility ray begins beaming from his orange eye. It covers the Biker Mice entirely. Only when they notice it fully covering them do the threesome look up. They watch Evil Eye pass overhead, but he's too high up for them to get a good look.
"Whoah," Throttle grumbles, a dark rumble in his voice, which all the mice have abruptly picked up, along with the same glowing red halo the secretary from earlier had. "Somethin' ugly just flew by."
"What, like your face?" Modo growls.
"Nah," Vinnie retorts. "Like your mom's."
Throttle laughs darkly while Modo's eye begins glowing bright red. He grits his teeth, showing just about every one in his head as he does. Frankly, I didn't know mice had such sharp, nasty-looking teeth until now. The boy is pissed.
"Yee-hah!" Evil Eye howls, coming down from the apex of his jump. "Time to bail out!"
He presses a button on his bike's crankcase and waves his arms triumphantly as he prepares to come in for a landing. A short gray cord shoots out the end, but nothing else. Abruptly, Evil Eye realizes that something is wrong. He grabs the cord and shouts, "Hey! What'd you weenies do with my parachute?!?!"
The Pukes watch from a distance as their boss crash-lands into a grove of trees. The two of them are thrown up into the air by the force of the ensuing explosion.
"Aw, shoot," the one with the glasses remarks, wiping his glasses sadly on his shirt. "We forgot to pack his shoot. Dang me! He's gonna be so mad, he won't take us to Graceland!"
"Ee-yeah," the other Puke sighs sadly.
After a moment, Evil Eye slinks away from the crash site. Once again, he appears to have been picked up and smashed by an uncaring hand. His arms and legs are bent at awkward angles, and yet, he's still walking somehow. Smoke is pouring off his body. But his single precaution against injury worked--his hair looks almost perfect.
"Still in one piece…" he murmurs. "…sorta…"
He screams and falls into a heap.
Back to our heroes…
"So what was that stupid thing anyway?" Vinnie snaps, looking over his shoulder.
"Aw, who the heck cares, you moron?" Modo replies angrily. "Maybe it was a UFO!"
"Shut up, you ugly idiot! UFO's have white lights! Not red lights!"
"Hey, you're the stupid one, thinkin' you're so great when all you are is a lame-brain clown!"
Before they can come to blows, Throttle backs in between the two of them, separating them. However, he's been affected by the beam, too, and is in no mood to hear any of it.
"SHUT UP! Both of you, just shut up! You're buggin' me!"
"Well excuuuuuuse me, Mister Big Shot!" Vinnie shouts back, grabbing Throttle by the vest and jerking him right into his face.
"Yeah!" Modo agrees, although he's probably mad now because Vinnie got to yell at Throttle first. "Who put a knuckle-head like you in charge, anyway?"
What makes this fight different than the previous one is that none of the mice's usual good humor is there. They're mad as Hell, and if not for the sudden appearance of Charley, one of them might very well have ended up dead (except for those pesky FCC regulations). As is, she shows up, and is very much puzzled by the mice's behavior.
"Hey, guys, what's going on!" she demands.
"AW, SHUT UP, CHARLEY!" the three mice shout simultaneously (the one thing they seem to agree on).
"WHAT?!?!" the mechanic asks, stunned.
Throttle bats Vinnie's hand off his vest, then proceeds to grab one of Vinnie's bandoleers and makes him listen.
"Listen up, hot head," he growls. "Why don't you just take your temper tantrum somewhere else? I'm sick of you always spoutin' off!"
"Well, I'm sick of you always ordering us around!" Vinnie shouts. "I'm outta here!"
And with that, he is. Vinnie rides off angrily for God knows where.
"Good riddance!" Throttle cries after him. He then turns his anger on Modo.
"And you! If you had half a brain behind that muscle you'd be dangerous! Hit the road, Jack!"
"Oh yeah?" Modo snarls. "Well, next time you need muscle in a fight, you're on your own, pal!"
The two mice ride off in separate directions, leaving a very much befuddled Charley sitting alone in the woods without a clue as to what's going on.
"What's the matter with you guys?" she asks after they're gone. The mechanic pauses a moment, then says thoughtfully, "Somethin's wrong here."
Just then, the Pukes ride past her, apparently running for their very lives.
"I'm gonna catch you little Pukes!" Evil Eye screams.
"Evil Eye's right on us!" the glasses-wearing Puke howls. "Head for the Limburger Tower!"
Charley watches as Evil Eye races past her, hot on the Pukes' trail.
"I should've guessed. When something stinks, you can bet Limburger's at the bottom of it."
She revs up her bike and races off. Unlike the mice, she's not mad at anybody--she just knows she has to find them quickly before something happens.
We find Throttle on the freeway, still with that red halo around his head. An ice cream truck has just moved into the left-hand lane, which happens to be the lane Throttle was in. You can imagine the effect it has on his mood.
"Hey, you gear-grindin' goof!" he yells. "If this icebox was movin' any slower, it'd be a glacier!"
Finally, Throttle manages to get around the left side of the truck. The driver happens to be looking at a map, which explains why he accidentally cut Throttle off.
Not that this makes any difference.
"Get off the road before I--"
Suddenly, the red halo disappears. Throttle seems confused for a moment, as if he'd just woken up from a dream.
"Whoah," he whispers in his normal voice. "What happened?"
The driver of the ice-cream truck puts down his map.
"Um, sorry," Throttle apologizes, not entirely sure what's going on. "Uh, ride free, citizen!" His proclamation lacks its usual oomph. The truck moves away from the mouse (the driver probably making some obscene hand gestures while he's at it), leaving Throttle to contemplate the strange situation.
"Man, something is wrong. Something is really wrong here. I gotta find Vinnie and Modo and figure out what happened to us."
He exits the freeway and begins making his way through the city.
"But where am I gonna find 'em? By now they could be anywhere!"
"Excellent work!" Limburger compliments Evil Eye back at his tower. "For once, the mice stand alone."
The Pukes are not quite so happy as their employer, however. Evil Eye has caught them, and is holding them off the floor by their hair, one in each hand.
"Dang, you dog tick!" the purple-haired one snaps, trying to free himself. "Let us go, you meany!"
"Aw, pipe down, you pipsqueak, before I pack my pipes with the pair of ya!" the reconstructed supervillain retorts.
Limburger scoops a handful of slime worms out of the bowl on his desk.
"Business before pleasure, my dear Evil," he chides, sucking down a worm.
Evil Eye drops the Pukes and pulls out a gold-framed mirror.
"Now, just let me check my hair," he says, preening. "Oh, yeahhhhh."
"Each of those mice are alone now," Limburger reminds them (in case they had somehow forgotten). "But you three are not."
He pokes Evil Eye in the chest.
"Bring me those Biker Mice," the Plutarkian shouts, "or I'll send you all home on tricycles!"
With that, Evil Eye and his stooges race out of the bottom of Limburger Tower in search of their quarry.
Just as Throttle did, Modo has managed to cool down. Like a lot of people, after an extreme emotional outburst, he's drained, and finds himself sadly thinking about what just happened. Unlike most people, Modo chooses to do this at a farm, surrounded by cows. Oh well. I've heard stranger methods of stress relief.
"Hey, little doggies," he sighs, resting his elbows on his bike's handlebars. "Ah'm sure you're happy. Ah bet you never had your friends never said mean stuff to you. An' ah bet you never said mean stuff to them, either."
A solitary cow approaches, chewing its cud and gazing at Modo with something almost like interest (similar mentality? After all, you don't come much more serene than Modo, and animals don't come much more serene than cows).
Modo draws himself up.
"Ah don't know what happened," he declares, "but ah'm not gonna let it lose me my best friends!"
He throws his arm around the cow's neck and draws it close, like a co-conspirator. "Ah'm gonna find 'em, and ah'm gonna make out with 'em right now!"
Hee hee. Just making sure you were awake. That should read, "and ah'm gonna make up with 'em right now!"
"Well isn't that just sweet like honey?" Evil Eye's voice asks from offscreen.
Modo looks up. Standing within a few yards of him are Evil Eye and the Pukes, rubbing their knuckles in anticipation of a good fight.
"But the problem is, mouse," the walking skeleton continues, "you gotta stick around for my first act."
He gazes into his mirror.
"Oh yeah! It's gonna knock you out, baby!"
The Pukes (the only one who are actually doing any work) pull out a tree by the roots and hold it over their heads.
"Hey, mouse-boy!" the one with the purple hair shouts. "Ever eat a pine tree? Many parts are edible."
"Ee-yeah!" agrees the other.
They pitch the tree at Modo. He shoves the cow out of the way, and raises his arm cannon--but too late. The tree lands directly on top of him, knocking him off his bike and to the ground. Modo weakly tries to sit up, but can't. He falls backward, unconscious.
This looks bad…
Vinnie, meanwhile, is still working off his anger. He's the most hotheaded of the mice, so perhaps it's no surprise that he's still got that bright red halo around his noggin as he leaps his bike off a freeway ramp and into the sky.
"I'm still the baddest mamajammer on six planets!" he shouts, coming in for a landing on top of a large tractor-trailer. He touches down, still fuming. "I'm Vinnie! Vinnie the awesome! Who needs Throttle and Modo? After what they said to me, hey, forget it! Who needs 'em?"
Suddenly, a pair of doors on the roof of he truck open up. A pair of large metal clamps shoot out, clasping Vinnie's front and rear tires. The mouse stares in horror.
"Well, well, well, hey mouse," Evil Eye shouts up from the truck's cab, "right now, I'd say--"
"--you do!" the purple-haired Puke shouts.
Suddenly, the trailer rises several feet. Vinnie looks over his shoulder and sees an elevated freeway directly in the truck's path. If the trailer wasn't elevated, he and his bike could easily slip beneath (or at least, he could lie down on his stomach and slide under, although his bike would get banged up). But now, there's no way in Hell that's gonna happen.
But our boy is quick to act. Vinnie quickly gets off his bike and leaps off the top of the trailer. As he does, he lights a pair of his flares and throws them. They break half the supports holding the trailer up. It tips over underneath the overpass, causing the truck to tip on its side and wreck.
Vinnie, unfortunately, didn't make it through clean. He lands hard on the pavement, rolling a few feet before coming to a stop.
"Not one of my better landings," he grumbles weakly.
He tries to push himself to his feet, but makes it no further than hands and knees. The impact was so brutal that Vinnie passes out. As he does, the red halo around his head disappears (makes you wonder how long it would've gone on if he'd remained concious!).
Evil Eye stumbles out of the wreck. Given how he usually comes through crashes, do I really need to tell you what condition he's in? I didn't think so. He makes it about halfway across the screen.
"Hey, thank you very much," he titters wearily. "And my hair--is perfect."
He sighs and collapses.
"Hey, boss-man," the purple-haired Puke asks, "you need a Band-Aid? Or some stylin' mousse?"
"Ee-yeah?" the other adds, grabbing Evil Eye by the pompadour and hauling him up to eye level.
"Shut up and grab that mouse," the villain sighs.
Throttle is the only one of the mice yet uncaptured. He's still searching for his bros, although he's had exactly zero luck in that endeavor. We find him at the Last Chance Garage, once again coming up empty.
"Hmmm. They're not here, either. And I already checked the Scoreboard hangout."
"Throttle!"
He turns to the sound of the voice, and sees Charley pulling up. She stops beside him.
"I've been looking all over for you!" she cries, a note of urgency in her voice. "Something's happening!
"Yeah, I know. Have you seen Vinnie and Modo? I'd like to talk to them." He pauses sadly, then adds, "We kinda had words."
"That's what I'm trying to tell you!" the mechanic explains, pulling him out of his depression. "Limburger's imported a new villain called Evil Eye!"
"Evil Eye Weevil?" Throttle asks, stunned.
"You've heard of him?"
"Yeah. He had a stunt show on Mars for a while. He's also got a hostility ray." The mouse laughs bitterly. "Oh yeah. That would explain a whole lot."
Throttle palms on his face-shield.
"Hold the fort Charley-girl!" he announces. "I gotta ride!"
The mechanic tries to join him as he starts to ride off, but he stops her.
"No!" he shouts. More softly, he adds, "Believe me, Charley, I appreciate that."
Dramatic pause.
"But this is between me and the guys."
He clutches her hand tightly, then rides off.
Limburger could not be happier with the way things are going. He's got Modo and Vinnie in his office, but for once, they're not attacking him. They're locked in old-fashioned stocks, hands and heads trapped so that they can't escape (and apparently to make them uncomfortable as well--that looks like it hurts!). Their bikes are chained up nearby. His foes are almost conquered! But, more to the point, things are going the way he planned for once!
"Two vexatious vermin down," the Plutarkian purrs, "one to go!"
Greasepit notices something behind them.
"B-boss?" he stammers.
"One's all it takes, you rancid cheeseball," Vinnie sneers from across the room.
"Especially if it's Throttle!" Modo growls.
"What are you rodents implying?" Limburger asks.
"M-Mr. Limburger, sir?" Greasepit says nervously, poking his boss in the back to get his attention.
"Not now, dear boy. I'm gloating."
"Boss!"
Limburger turns around angrily and shouts, "WHAT?!"
Greasepit points at the window.
"That's what they mean."
The Plutarkian looks out and gasps.
There, sitting atop the roof of a neighboring building, moon at his back, headlight streaming out into the night (and all this to the "William Tell overture"/"The Lone Ranger Theme"), is Throttle, very much uncaptured and ready to whip some serious tail. The moonlight glares off his helmet.
You just know Limburger is thinking, Aw, shiiiiiiit.
Throttle leaps his bike off the top of the building.
"AAHHH!" Limburger screams, running around like a chicken with its head cut off. "Battle stations! Battle stations!"
Throttle bursts through the window, knocking down Evil Eye as he enters the room. The mirror flies out of Evil Eye's hand and goes skidding across the rug.
"Gotcha now, mousie!" Greasepit shouts, charging at Throttle. This comes to naught, however, as Throttle lands a punch on Greasepit's chin that sends him hurtling across the room. He lands on top of Evil Eye and the Pukes. A cool note: this is one of the first times we get the "stuff splashing on the camera" bit. In this case, it's Greasepit's grease staining the lens.
All minor annoyances now taken care of, Throttle whips his pistol out and blasts Vinnie and Modo free. They look very glad to see him (and no, not in that "is that a whatever in your pocket or are you just happy to see me" kinda way. Don't be such a damn pervert!).
"That's our bro!" Modo shouts, using his arm cannon to blast he and Vinnie's bikes free.
"Don’t just lie there, you lazy louts!" Limburger shouts. "Get them!"
Greasepit obliges, getting off Evil Eye (and slamming his head into the carpet in the process).
"Get off me, you big gob of grease!" he snaps. "You broke my leg!" That Evil Eye is for once more concerned with a broken limb than his hair is shocking.
"I'll set it for ya, honey," the purple-haired Puke coos.
…
I'm not even gonna touch that one.
"Don't move, slimeballs!" Throttle warns.
"Or you're cheese soufflé," Vinnie adds.
Modo just glares and grits his teeth.
The Pukes set about trying to fix their boss's wounds, pulling on an arm and a leg in opposite directions. Evil Eye shoots out another round of his hostility ray, meaning it for the mice.
But this time, they know what's going on. Vinnie quickly grabs Evil Eye's mirror and uses it to reflect the beam away. Instead of hitting the Biker Mice, it hits Limburger, Greasepit, Evil Eye, and the Pukes. Evil Eye continues to fire, his rays bouncing all though the room.
"Too much bad karma in here, bros!" Throttle says quickly.
"Yeah, let's skedaddle!" Modo agrees.
"Let's Rock N' Ride!" Vinnie shouts.
The mice bust a hole in one of the doors and soar out into the night sky.
Inside the tower, things are going from bad to worse. Evil Eye is still firing his ray, and everyone is feeling the effects of the first blast, as indicated by the decorative red halos and generally pissy mood.
"Control yourself, you pompadoured poltroon!" Limburger shouts, smacking Evil Eye over the head with his cane (actually, I'm not sure if the ray did have an effect on him).
"Aw, shut up, you reekin' porkball!" the skeleton snaps back.
"Yeah!" one of the Pukes shouts.
Evil Eye turns on them.
"And by the way, next time you guys yank my leg, I'm gonna use your for lowes rings (?)!" (If you can figure out what Evil Eye is going to use them for, please e-mail me).
"We were just doin' our job, you bully!" the orange-haired Puke snaps (the first words he's said other than "Ee-yeah!" through the entire episode).
"Yeah! W-We wouldn't even work for you if you weren't Elvis's alien brother!" the other agrees, holding up a tabloid reading
ELVIS ALIEN BROTHER FOUND
"Well, ah never wanted to hire you little Pukes in the first place!" their employer retorts.
"OH YEAH?!"? both Pukes ask angrily.
The orange-haired one takes a swing at Evil Eye, but he catches his fist and throws him across the room, right into Limburger. The Plutarkian grabs the Puke by the legs, holding him like a baseball bat, and advances on Evil Eye. The walking skeleton responds by grabbing the other Puke in a similar fashion. The two of them then proceed to beat the snot out of each other. Their battle is so violent that Limburger Tower can actually be seen shaking, and the arguments heard from outside.
And the Biker Mice listen with pleasure.
"Music to my ears," Modo laughs.
Throttle nods.
"Yup."
"Only one more thing could make this night perfect," Vinnie adds.
Just then, Charley pulls up, the Transport Tunnel generator from the previous night strapped onto the back of her bike.
"Hey, guys! I was just thinkin'--you got any use for this?"
Throttle and Modo look at Vinnie, and the three of them grin.
"Yep!" the white-furred mouse replies.
"Just the ticket!" Throttle agrees.
Soon, the Transport Tunnel generator is strapped on to the front of Throttle's bike. The Biker Mice ride up the side of a building, the generator's beam guiding them as they go.
"We're back--" Throttle calls out.
"--we're bad--" Vinnie adds.
"-we're mice-" Modo shouts.
"--AND WE'RE MAD!" the threesome concludes as they leap into the air and straight toward Limburger Tower.
Inside, Limburger and Evil Eye are still going about their battle royale when Limburger looks out the window and sees the mice flying past. His red halo disappears.
"Oh, please, no," he whimpers. "I'm very tired."
Throttle unties the rope holding the generator on his bike. It falls toward the ground, but with Limburger Tower in its beam. The entire building disappears, and when the generator strikes the ground, the impact breaks it into a million pieces.
Limburger Tower then shoots out of a corresponding portal into the Space Holding Bin, where it slams into the hulks of other buildings, utterly destroyed once again.
"Oooh," Limburger sighs sadly. "This has been a most distressing day."
"Well, that takes care of Limburger!" Vinnie announces triumphantly as the mice gaze at the empty lot where his tower once stood.
"At least, till he finds his way back!" Modo adds.
"Which, knowin' him, won't take too long."
"Check it out!" Throttle interrupts. "We can still catch the Chicago Nubs game!"
"Yeah! Can't wait!" Modo cries. "They're my favorite team!"
The Biker Mice and Charley ride off.
"I can think of one I like better," Charley says with a grin.
"Yeah?" Modo asks. "Who?"
"The Biker Mice from Mars!"
They all whoop it up, popping wheelies and disappearing into the night. And in the background, one can hear Lawrence Limburger weeping.
(duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh!)
MY FEELINGS ON THE EPISODE
I'll admit, I was a little jaded on this episode when I started working on the summary. Frankly, I'm sick of preachy cartoons that try and teach moral lessons so blatantly that you can see it coming from a mile away. And for God's sake, look at the title. "Test of Friendship" is lame-ass. I know, I know, it applies perfectly to the episode. But it sounds so damn stupid!
But as I watched the episode, I realized that even if the episode does strive to teach a lesson, it also does it in a very entertaining way. It's a funny episode! Somewhere along the line, I forgot that, but I rediscovered my affections for it as I was working on this. "Test of Friendship" is pretty funny, and it does define the mice's friendship a little better. On one hand, you know they're going to be chums again by the end up the episode, but it's nice to see them fight a little bit, even if they had to be provoked into doing it. Evil Eye and the Pukes of Hazard are welcome additions to the mice's rogues gallery. The animation is pretty good, too. Don’t let the title throw you. This is a good episode.
Now for the "this is how you can get it part!" If you hadn't figured it out from my other reviews (or if you've just never read down this far), all thirteen first-season episodes are available on videocassette. The tape is named "We Don't Need No Stinkin' City", and also contains the other episode of the same name. E-bay is a great place to pick up the first-season tapes, usually at a bargain price. Simply enter "biker mice" in the search field, and a listing of available Biker Mice products will be given. Amazon.com is another good place to go looking. Searching through Yahoo and AltaVista might also turn up video sources online. You won't regret your search. Good luck!
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