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TRANSCRIPT: S01E01 - The Pilot Episode Sanction

TITLE: The Pilot Episode Sanction
WRITTEN BY: Javier Grillo-Marxuach
DIRECTED BY: Jeremiah Chechik
DESCRIPTION: Wendy Watson, a struggling artist, is fired from her temp agency after a science experiment goes horribly wrong and is recruited by The Middleman, who solves "exotic problems."

A.N.D. Laboratories. Present Day. 12:15 P.M.

WENDY: Jeez, Mom, what do you mean, what am I doing in a science lab? Well, I happen to be working with the top scientific minds in the country, Mom -- hold on.

Thank you for calling A.N.D. Laboratories: Rescrambling Your D.N.A. How may I direct your call?

This is a really important job, Mom. As a matter of fact, yes. Lots of art school graduates get science jobs. Hold on.

Thank you for calling A.N.D. Laboratories: Rescrambling Your D.N.A. How may I direct your call?

Yes, Mother, I am still dating that guy. And his name is Ben. No, he is not a homosexual. He’s in film school. Hang on.

Thank you for calling A.N.D. Laboratories: Rescrambling Your D.N.A. I’m connecting your call.

ALARM: Contamination alert.

WENDY: Please hold.

ALARM: Contamination alert.

Alarm systems disengaged.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Excuse me, ma’am, but I’m going to have to ask you to step aside.

The human.

The one on my left.

Heck of a mess, huh?

WENDY: Excuse me?

THE MIDDLEMAN: I said, heck of a mess, huh?

WENDY: Whatever. I’m a temp.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Hey, now, the heat’s on its way. Okay, cowgirl, here’s your marching orders. Anyone asks, this was a gas main explosion. I was never here; this conversation never took place.

WENDY: Marching orders? What about the hentai tentacle monster?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Tell the truth if you want but if you do, I’m going to have to root you like a hog and kill you.

Sorry. So, what’s it going to be: keep the secret or death?

WENDY: What do you think?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Ma’am. Specificity is the soul of all good communication.

WENDY: Yes. Duh.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Outstanding. You’re good under pressure.

WENDY: Are you hitting on me?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Just making an observation.

WENDY: Hello, nutjob, party of one.

THE MIDDLEMAN: No, ma’am. I’m just the Middleman.

FIREFIGHTER: Are you alright?

WENDY: Yeah.

Il Mutande Grandissimo Italian Restaurant. 1:00 A.M.

DON CALFARI: What you’re saying is somebody whacked the entire Spaldoni organization.

CALFARI’S MOBSTER: Just like I said an hour ago. Huge bloodbath. Gonna be front-page tomorrow morning.

DON CALFARI: But I did not give the orders to wipe out the Spaldoni family. That is an order that I did not give.

CALFARI’S MOBSTER: Okay, Don Calfari. If you didn’t give the order, then what does that mean?

DON CALFARI: That would mean someone had to give the order. Someone that was not me.

CALFARI’S MOBSTER: So maybe we outta find who it was.

DON CALFARI: So they don’t come and whack us.


It’s like playing Mad-Libs with guns.

Amalgated Temporary Employment Inc. 10:25 A.M.

MANAGER: The police said the explosion was caused by a lighter. Found a silver Zippo lighter with a DC-3 airplane engraving.

WENDY: My dad’s lucky lighter?

MANAGER: So you know something about it?

WENDY: Oh, you don’t think that – oh, oh, come on. I was just fidgeting with that lighter. It’s – it’s – it’s like an O.C.D. thing. Only – only different.

Okay. Look. I have three credit cards that are about to pop at the seams and my mother’s on me 24/7 to quit painting, move back to Orlando, meet a good man, eat fried foods, swell up like a tick and start squeezing out calves like Elsie main-lining fertility drugs. Do we understand each other?

MANAGER: Until we can be certain that one of our temps didn’t burn down her last place of employment while playing with fire, there’s nothing I can do.

WENDY: A: When my father’s DC-3 tragically crashed under as-of-yet unexplained and mysterious circumstances, I swore that I would never lose the only memento he left behind. Which brings me straight to B: I did not cause that explosion.

MANAGER: Can’t find your lighter?

WENDY: Okay, you want the truth? Those idiots were working on some whacked-out genetic experiment that went completely bonkers and this monster made out of body parts attacked me and then this middleman guy showed up and told me he’d kill me.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Sorry, ma’am. I warned you.

WENDY: I get it. Thank you.

Corridor to the illegal sublet Wendy shares with another young, photogenic artist. 7:00 P.M.

NOSER: Yo, Wendy Watson.

WENDY: Hey, Noser.

NOSER: Who’s the man?

WENDY: That would be Shaft, Noser.

NOSER: What kind of man?

WENDY: A complicated man.

NOSER: And who understands him?

WENDY: No one but his woman.

NOSER: Right on.

The illegal sublet Wendy shares with another young, photogenic artist. 7:01 P.M.

WENDY: Hey, Lacey. What’s this crud on my X-Box?

LACEY: Can you describe the crud?

Oh, that’s just fake blood. My animal liberation group is demonstrating in front of Lapin Grillé tomorrow. I’ll be throwing buckets of that on the restaurant. Just wait ‘till it dries off.

WENDY: Okay, well, if you break this, you bought it. I was just about to crack the Slovakian torture dungeon level on Gut Wrencher 3.

LACEY: How can you play those games? They’re so testosterone-y.

WENDY: Why would you throw blood at a French bistro?

LACEY: Do you know what Lapin Grillé means?

WENDY: Uh…The Broiled Rabbit?

Wow. Glad I can tick that cause off my list.

LACEY: I’m a confrontational spoken word performance artist. I confront. I speak. Art. What do you do, Dub-Dub?

WENDY: Well, I save the world in my own way. Did I get any calls?

LACEY: Yeah, your mom called to ask if you’re a lesbian. And Ben called, he wants to come later, he has a surprise for you.

WENDY: Did he say anything about world travel, champagne, or diamonds?

LACEY: What’s it like being somebody’s beard?

WENDY: He’s in film school.

LACEY: Oh, this weird temp agency called.

WENDY: The Jolly Fats Wehawkin Temp Agency? Never heard of ‘em.

LACEY: They want to see you immediately.

WENDY: Like right now immediately?


WENDY: Well, then, wish me luck.

LACEY: You’re goin’ like that?

WENDY: I am way over my daily recommended allowance for corporate booty kissing. If they want me now, they’re shopping at the “as is” department.

Jolly Fats Wehawkin Employment Agency. 8:15 P.M.

IDA: Wendy Watson?

WENDY: Who wants to know?

IDA: Don’t get fresh with me, Missy. I’ll split your lip.

WENDY: What kinda temp agency is this?

IDA: The kind that wants to put you in the satisfying and high-paying world of temporary employment. You wouldn’t mind taking some tests first, right?

WENDY: Tests?

IDA: What are you, paralyzed from the neck up? Move it.

WENDY: So. What’s next? Target practice? Obstacle course? Cavity search?

IDA: Don’t let your pie-hole talk ya out of a job, young lady. Wendy Watson, meet your new boss.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Good evening, ma’am.

Jolly Fats Wehawkin Employment Agency, exactly 3 minutes, 10 seconds later.

WENDY: Is this the part where I ask you who the hell you are and what the hell you do?

THE MIDDLEMAN: My. We’ve got our skivvies in a bunch. Lights.

I’m the Middleman. You’ve met Ida. This temp agency is a recruitment front for our organization.

WENDY: Didn’t your test tell you I have issues with authority?

IDA: I’d told you she’d be no good.

WENDY: Can it, Yoda, we’re talking.

THE MIDDLEMAN: I wouldn’t go so far as to refer to myself as an authority figure. I’m more like…an independent contractor.

WENDY: What’s that mean? You build strip malls? Kill people? What?

THE MIDDLEMAN: I’ve never built strip malls. I solve exotic problems.

WENDY: Define exotic.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Well. You ever read comic books?

WENDY: Yeah. I think Jughead’s a real hoot.

Powers, Fell, Astro City, The Spirit, X-Man – old school, not ultimate -- Mouse Guard and The Flash.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Barry Allen or Wally West?

WENDY: Do you want me to leave?

THE MIDDLEMAN: You know how in comic books there’s all kinds of mad scientists and aliens and androids and monsters and all of them want to either destroy or take over the world?

WENDY: In comic books, sure.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Well, it really does work like that.

WENDY: Get out.

THE MIDDLEMAN: You already forgot what you saw?

WENDY: And you’re the superhero?

THE MIDDLEMAN: I never wear tights…

WENDY: I’m crushed.

Can I ask you a question? Was it you or me who took the stupid pills this morning?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Now that’s just rude.

WENDY: Well, dragging me down here to answer the brown courtesy phone isn’t?

IDA: This is a waste. She’s a slacker.

WENDY: Have you been helped?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Don’t mind her. She’s had the cranky something awful since her appearance processor got stuck on Domineering Schoolmarm Version 2.0.

WENDY: English?


WENDY: Trippy.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Dagnabbit, that’s why you’re here! You witness something completely out of the parameters of reality and didn’t even flinch. Observe.

WENDY: How’d you film that?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Real-Time Situational Recording Archive.

WENDY: Why of course.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Look right there. That slimy tendril grabs you and what do you do?

WENDY: Grab a letter opener and stab it.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Exactly. 90% of the population would’ve dumped their cargo and screamed madly before becoming lunch. The other 9.5% would’ve keeled dead of a heart attack, but not you. You accepted the reality of the monster, incredible though it was, took the necessary steps to survive, and through it all, your stress levels remain normal.

IDA: Ten bucks says she's smokin' reefer.

WENDY: Does Rosie have an off switch?

THE MIDDLEMAN: A high threshold for the unexplainable and a reflex to fight off an extra-normal danger will make you a perfect candidate for our organization. Can you handle a firearm?

WENDY: I happen to be a pacifist.

IDA: I’m tellin’ ya, she’s a hop-head.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Callouses on the thumb and index finger? X-Box. Judging by the distribution, I’m guessing Raging Carnage, Primal Combat, and Gut Wrencher 3 are your favorites. You probably have better hand-eye than a bush sniper. How are your martial arts skills?

WENDY: Non-existent.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Ida? Schedule her a three-month intensive with Sensei Ping. Oh, and buy him first-class airfare this time. The flight from Muhan makes him real surly.

WENDY: I don’t want a three-month intensive with Sensei Ping. I’m an artist. I only wanna temp so I can paint.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Well…gosh. Don’t you want to fight evil? Monsters? Robots? Aliens?

WENDY: Not if I have to join the paramilitary version of Amway.

THE MIDDLEMAN: This is a tremendous opportunity for someone of your skills.

WENDY: Skills? I avoided a giant rectum and got rejected by every temp agency in town cuz the cops think my dad’s lucky Zippo caused that explosion.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Sorry about the Zippo. That was just a recruitment tactic.

WENDY: You gave the cops the Zippo?

IDA: Sensei Ping’s on his way. First-class.

WENDY: You framed me.

THE MIDDLEMAN: I needed to make sure you’d come here.

IDA: By the way, the money just cleared for the Italian restaurant job on Arthur Avenue. They want you there. On the double.

WENDY: I loved that lighter.

THE MIDDLEMAN: If you join up, I won’t frame you for anything else again. Scout’s honor.

WENDY: Go to hell.

IDA: You owe me a dollar.

The Corridor To The Illegal Sublet

NOSER: Yo, Wendy Watson.

WENDY: Hey, Noser.

NOSER: Feeling kind of hungry.

WENDY: You mean hungry like the wolf?

NOSER: Nope.

WENDY: Hungry heart?

NOSER: Nope.

WENDY: Hungry eyes?

NOSER: Nope.

WENDY: Hungry hippos.

NOSER: You’re the only who gets me.

Wendy's Illegal Sublet

LACEY: Yo, Dub-Dub.

WENDY: I gotta hit the joystick, Lacey. I got some serious aggression to work out.

LACEY: Speaking of joysticks, Ben’s here.

WENDY: Ben? Cool.

God, am I happy to see you. If my day sucked any harder, I’d be inside out. Hey, buddy.

Buddy? Buddy?

Okay. This is usually the part where you kiss me back. What’s the camera? We makin’ a movie?

BEN: Uh. I guess you could say that.

WENDY: Kinky. Should I bust out the feather boa and the accordion?

BEN: It’s – it’s not like that. See, my friend Eddie came along.

WENDY: Whoa. Hideous kinky. Hi, Eddie.

BEN: Eddie is taking Professor Howard’s Cinéma Vérité class with me.

WENDY: The class you’re flunking?

BEN: Yeah. Professor says it’s cuz I don’t have any pain in my life.

WENDY: I could punch you.

BEN: It’s not – that kinky. Fire it up, Eddie!

I just think that you and I should, you know, be…just…friends.

WENDY: You’re breaking up with me for a class project?

BEN: How does that make you feel?

WENDY: We – we’ve been dating for a year. You said the L-word that one time.

BEN: I – I was drunk.

Does that – that hurts? Look, tell the camera.

This is painful for me, too, you know? I am the victim here. My dad is a lawyer. We have money. I’ve never worked for anything. No pain in my life. The professor stood me up in front of the class and he said that. You have any idea how that stings, to know that you have no hurt on the inside?

WENDY: So, you wanna know what it’s like to have pain in your life? Fair enough.

BEN: Ow! Ow, that hurts!

WENDY: Is this showing a little about the meaning of pain or you need some more?

BEN: Ow! That was a digital camera!

You – you are psychotic!

WENDY: You still don’t get it, do you?

Out! Get out!

Il Mutande Grandissimo Italian Restaurant. 11:45 P.M.

THE MIDDLEMAN: F.B.I. Night shift.

POLICE OFFICER: Wanna donut?

THE MIDDLEMAN: That would ruin my appetite, Officer.

POLICE OFFICER: Excuse me. This kid says she’s with you.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Special Agent Watson. Slacking off the dress-code, I see.

WENDY: Oh, I don’t do dress-code after sundown.

THE MIDDLEMAN: It’s bad apples like you that put Mr. Hoover in a dress. Yeah, she’s on the job.

Ida had this address on her desk. Photographic memory?

WENDY: Abstract expressionist.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Swell. Last time we talked, you weren’t exactly…nice. Why the attitude adjustment?

WENDY: Well, I heard you take care of exotic problems.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Define exotic.

WENDY: No job, no money, no sense of reality now that I know comic book evil roams the world.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Shoot. That is an exotic problem.

WENDY: I heard that when comic book evil strikes, you’re there to cover it up.


WENDY: You said you’d shoot me if I told anyone about that monster I saw.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Test of honesty.


THE MIDDLEMAN: What makes more sense? That a monster trashed a science lab or that a gas main exploded? If I hadn’t planted your Zippo, some pink-skinned normal would’ve still come up with a rational explanation. People want to believe reality’s normal. The ones who don’t are freaks. And no one believes them, anyway.

WENDY: Well, who do you work for?

THE MIDDLEMAN: I got recruited the exact same way you did. And when the last middleman hired me, he never said and I never asked. Ida was already there; so were all the weapons and gadgets and things. Sometimes a box comes in with more weapons and gadgets and things. I don’t know where they come from. They just do. Maybe Ida runs the show, maybe it’s the conspiracy. Maybe it’s God. I’m just the middleman.

Dog-gone cops, always miss the big clues.

WENDY: A banana peel?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Someone’s eliminating mobsters in an algorithmic way. The pattern suggests advanced intelligence, something far more sinister than a wise guy.

WENDY: Define sinister.

THE MIDDLEMAN: You wanna know, you gotta sign up.

WENDY: Yeah, why not?

A mob-infested alley in a seedy neighborhood. 1:15 A.M.

MOBSTER: Get over here. You gotta piece? Eh, he looks clean boss.

DON: I heard you saw the killer.

CALFARI'S MOBSTER: You’ll never believe what I saw.

DON: You wanna tell?

CALFARI'S MOBSTER: It was – it was –

No! No!

Middleman’s Headqua – Whoa! Freaky!

WENDY: Whoa! Freaky!

THE MIDDLEMAN: That Ida doubles as a scanning electron microscope?

WENDY: That you hired me to be a superhero and I’m staring at a computer.

THE MIDDLEMAN: That’s how most crimes get solved. Don’t you watch TV?

IDA: Heads up, slackers, we got a live one.


WENDY: Jiminy what?

IDA: DNA match for genetically engineered ape spit.

WENDY: Oh, don’t point that at me! I don’t want to have a flipper baby!

THE MIDDLEMAN: There’s only one place in town that could’ve come from. Let’s kick the tires and light the fires.

IDA: Hey. Anybody wanna unplug me?


Simionics Animal Research Laboratories. 10:45 A.M.

DR. GIBBS: We don’t get very many visitors from the Department of Sanitation.

THE MIDDLEMAN: That’s why they call them surprise inspections, Dr. Gibbs. My associate and I are going to have a look around.

GORILLA: “Man has climbed Mt. Everest, gone to the bottom of the ocean. He’s fired rockets to the moon, split the atom, achieved miracles in every field of human endeavor.”

WENDY: Oh, no. It’s Gorilla Grodd. Run for your life.

DR. GIBBS: Hardly. These Western lowland gorillas are genetically engineered. Their higher brain functions are controlled by one of the most complex computers in the world. Next to them, most people have the IQ of an oyster.

WENDY: Genius primates. Because that’s a problem that needed solving.

THE MIDDLEMAN: And what do we have over here?

DR. GIBBS: This is Zippy. We had to boost his IQ three times to get him to stop painting those damn soup cans.

WENDY: It’s not bad for a classical realist.

DR. GIBBS: Art snob.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Uh, what about this one?

DR. GIBBS: Spanky was one of our failures. We don’t like to talk about him.

THE MIDDLEMAN: You want to take a look?

DR. GIBBS: You can’t go in there. Stop. You can’t go in.

THE MIDDLEMAN: See anything hinky?

WENDY: Define hinky.

THE MIDDLEMAN: You define hinky.

WENDY: Okay. Hey, you see that spot over there? Where the paint doesn’t quite match?

Are you comin’ or not?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Well, dagdiggity.

DR. GIBBS: I had no idea.

WENDY: What the heck were you teachin’ Spanky?

DR. GIBBS: How to pilot space shuttles.

WENDY: Because again, that’s a problem that needed solving.

DR. GIBBS: I’ve never even seen this place.

THE MIDDLEMAN: How does an experimental primate get Scarface, Good Fellas, and The Sopranos?

DR. GIBBS: All of our apes have mail-order and Internet privileges. But we should have seen this. Spanky's mind is controlled by the main-frame like all the other subjects.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Swell. Where’s Spanky now?

DR. GIBBS: Spanky never did learn how to control the re-entry simulator. His pod tore through the laboratory ceiling and crash landed miles away. It was a tragic loss.

WENDY: He sleeps with the fishes.

Parking Lot

THE MIDDLEMAN: Spanky must have found a way to break free from that mind control computer and escape from Simionics.

WENDY: But Gibbs said he died in re-entry.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Maybe Spanky crashed that pod to cover his escape. We have to find him lickity-split.

WENDY: How ‘bout we just let Spanky keep killin’ wiseguys? I mean, isn’t he doing the world a solid?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Who would you rather have earning millions of dollars from all the rackets in the city – a lunk-head goomba who’s gonna blow it on showgirls, shiny suits, and Greek revival marble nudie statues? Or a genetically-engineered super genius primate with knowledge of advanced computer systems and astroscience?

WENDY: Well, when you put it that way.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Listen up. It’s all been fun and games up ‘till now, but there’s something about you I must know.

WENDY: Yeah?

THE MIDDLEMAN: You like country?

Andolini Social Club. The city’s most notorious den of wiseguys. 12:15 P.M.

WENDY: What is this place?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Andolini Social Club. The city’s most notorious den of wiseguys.

WENDY: Do you have a death wish? Cut out the twang, Gomer.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Time to mount up.

WENDY: You’re not just going to waltz in there and ask them to rat out the big boss.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Yes, ma’am. Right after I slide up to the bar and order me a tall glass of milk.

WENDY: Did you skinny dip in the stupidity pond? I – I’m not going in there.

THE MIDDLEMAN: I didn’t ask you to. The path I walk, I walk alone. Keep it warm, Dubby.

WENDY: ‘Dubby’?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Oh, and I almost forgot. There’s some things I need you to hold onto.

WENDY: You’re going unarmed.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Didn’t I tell you how I got this job? Oh. Well. Just – be careful with that.

MOBSTER: Hurry up, Joey!

MOBSTER: This way, Petey!

THE MIDDLEMAN: Hi there. Milk?

WENDY: Uh…no.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Too bad. It’s good for the bones. This is our new friend, Tino. Say hello, Tino.

TINO: How ya doin’?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Tino runs all the rackets in town. The only way he’s still alive is if he’s in good with the new boss, right?

TINO: Hey, I’m not openin’ my mouth.

THE MIDDLEMAN: I think I’ll have myself some milk.

Wanna put that back for me? Thanks. What were we talking about when I left?

WENDY: Uh, you were gonna tell me why you got this job.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Right! See, I was a Navy SEAL. You know, they teach us over 456 ways of causing pain.

TINO: I want a lawyer! I got rights!

THE MIDDLEMAN: Know what, that was some darn fine cow squirt.

TINO: Oh! Son of a bitch!

THE MIDDLEMAN: Anyway. My team got stuck in a colossal hairy fur ball back in the Gulf and this jerk CO radios for me to bug out and leave my men behind so I did what any self-respecting squid would do. I saved my men, got back to the base, and kicked the crud out of that little weasel. Pardon my French.

Wanna talk?

TINO: Go to hell!

THE MIDDLEMAN: I’m parched. I could use another cool, refreshing drink of milk.

TINO: Oh! Alright! Alright! I’ll talk. The big boss set up shop in a strip joint over the bridge. But no one’s ever laid eyes on him and that’s all I’m sayin’. I got rights!

THE MIDDLEMAN: Oh, you got rights. After we’re finished up driving you over to the FBI and you’re gonna rat out every wiseguy and scam you’re aware of, kapeesh?

TINO: And get myself plugged?! No way!

THE MIDDLEMAN: Why don’t you keep Tino company while I get myself a refill.

TINO: Wait! I’ll talk. I’ll do it. I’ll do it.

WENDY: So you hit your commanding officer.

THE MIDDLEMAN: I have issues with authority.

Jane’s Coconuts Gentlemen’s Club. Somewhere over the bridge. 2:13 P.M.

SPANKY: Tell the Senator that he can have my answer now. My offer is this: nothin’. Not even the fee for the gaming license, which I would appreciate if he put up personally.

MOBSTER: Hey, Boss. Someone’s messin’ with our security.

SPANKY: You, check it out! You, get me a banana!

THE MIDDLEMAN: The jig is up, Spanky.

SPANKY: Say hello to my little friend!

THE MIDDLEMAN: Tino’s turned in state evidence. Right now he’s with the Federales and warblin’ like Patsy Cline. It’s time for you to stop acting like a mobster and start acting like an ape.

SPANKY: Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!

WENDY: It’s nothing personal, Monkeyboy.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Just business.

SPANKY: I’m never going back to prison!


WENDY: I gotta ask somethin’.


WENDY: How can a Navy SEAL not cuss? I mean, you’re all ‘darn’ and ‘jeepers’ and ‘criminy’. What’s up with that?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Profanity cheapens the soul and weakens the mind.

WENDY: Well, maybe, but every once in a while, you could let out a [BLEEP] or a [BLEEP].

THE MIDDLEMAN: You kiss your mother with that mouth? Huh? Huh, garbage mouth? Yes, you.

Oh, [BLEEP].

WENDY: What?

Metropolitan Zoo and Wild Animal Park. 2:47 P.M.

WENDY: Okay, this isn’t a problem. We can still find the big boss cuz he’s wearing one of those – the –

THE MIDDLEMAN: Strap on electronic voice boxes?

Wendy’s Illegal Sublet. 3 Hours Later.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Sleep with one eye open. That gun-totin’ ape’s still at large.

WENDY: I’m still not talking to you.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Apes throws feces, Dubbie. That’s a fact of life.

WENDY: Quit callin’ me [BLEEP] Dubbie.

NOSER: Yo, Wendy Watson. Who’s that mighty, mighty girl?

WENDY: A brick house.

NOSER: What is she doin’?

WENDY: Letting it all – uh-oh.

MIDDLEWATCH: Alert. Alert.

WENDY: You have a gun on you, Noser?

NOSER: War is not the answer, Wendy. Only love can conquer hate.

WENDY: Oh, what is going on? Yee-ahh!

BEN: Ow! You hit me in the head!

WENDY: Are you bat-guano insane?

NOSER: Man, my axe!

WENDY: Sorry.

BEN: Why does it smell like monkey poop in here?

WENDY: What do you want?

BEN: I just – you know. Wanted to say that I’m sorry about that whole movie thing. I – I’m such a dolt. I thought that it would be art? Seemed like a good idea at the time…

WENDY: So did the Carter administration.

BEN: I’ve looked at the tape and watching you throw things reminded me of the time we accidentally overturned that chestnut roaster on Madison Avenue and the vendor started screaming in Spanish.

WENDY: Then he started throwing stuff and we had a chestnut war.

BEN: It made me miss you. So I wanted to say I’m sorry. To ask what it would take for you to take me back.


BEN: Ow – ow, you’re breaking my arm.

LACEY: Hey, now! Violence!

WENDY: Let him go; he’s okay.

THE MIDDLEMAN: You sounded the alarm.

WENDY: Not cuz of him. Ben, are you okay?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Ben!? The video camera guy? I oughta crack your skull for that alone, you stringy-haired coffeehouse beatnik!

BEN: Where did you dig up this jarhead?

LACEY: Hey, Dub-Dub, who’s your boyfriend?

WENDY: He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my boss.

LACEY: Really? Lacey Thornfield. Charmed.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Delighted, ma’am.

LACEY: You know, I’m a conceptual artist.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Some have said that about me, too.

WENDY: Ugh, do I have to hose you down? And you two hormone jockeys: outside.

BEN: [BLEEP] gorilla! I – I saw a gorilla holding a gun!

WENDY: Get a hold of yourself, man! What’s easier to believe: a gorilla holding a gun or a…big…hairy guy doing a drive-by?

BEN: A big…hairy guy? A big…hairy…guy. Yeah.

THE MIDDLEMAN: You could have mentioned the hostile.

WENDY: I would have, had you not barged in and started hitting on my roommate and then beating up my boyfriend.

BEN: I’m still your boyfriend?

THE MIDDLEMAN: What do you think? I’ll take care of the big hairy guy.

LACEY: You’re getting paid more than nine an hour for this job, right?

The Alley Behind Wendy's Illegal Sublet

WENDY: Where’s the big boss?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Pondering his evil ways. Look what I found.

WENDY: You smashed his voice box. So where’d he get a brand new one with the lab’s trademark stamped on the side?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Well, either he snuck back into the lab and stole a new voice box or –

WENDY: – Or he never escaped at all and Dr. Gibbs lied to us.

THE MIDDLEMAN: I bet all his secrets are locked up in that mind-control computer of hers. I better mosey on down there.

WENDY: Well, what about me?

THE MIDDLEMAN: You’ve seen more harm’s way than an untrained operative should have to.

WENDY: Hold it right there, Tex. I’ve been shot at. I’ve been pelted with ape dung. You practically killed my boyfriend.

THE MIDDLEMAN: He’s a door-knob.

WENDY: And now you’re leaving me behind?

THE MIDDLEMAN: This is re-gosh-darn-diculous. You weren’t exactly dying to go into that mob hang out, am I right?

WENDY: Yeah, but I had a choice in that. So rule number one: Never, ever give me the ‘Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do’ speech before you strap on your six-gun and leave me back at the ranch making tea with Ida, the prune-faced android. Two: you don’t crack my boyfriend’s skull. And three: You don’t date my roommate. Got it?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Now that’s just mean. I’m single. I’m – I’m eligible.

WENDY: Just drive.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Are you ashamed of me?

Simionics Animal Research Laboratories.

WENDY: Is there a reason we’re repelling down to the computer?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Should be able to access the mainframe through this IO port.

WENDY: Feel that? Kind of a strange tugging feeling. Whoa! Ow! Get your filthy paws off of me, you damn dirty ape!

DR. GIBBS: I knew you weren’t from the Department of Sanitation.

WENDY: Gibbs! You’re the one who sent Spanky to kill us! You’re the one who let him out of the car! It was you!

DR. GIBBS: Drop the gun or your gun turns to scrap metal.

WENDY: You’ve been controlling the big boss.

DR. GIBBS: Of course I have. These apes don’t have a single thought that I don’t control through this computer. Drop it. Before your associate knows what it feels like to be a banana.

THE MIDDLEMAN: I don’t get it. Why the mob?

DR. GIBBS: Money. Fast, tax-free cash money. This is a federally funded lab. Every year the government is less and less interested in making smarter apes. And every year they slash my budget. Without money, I will never fulfill my dream.

THE MIDDLEMAN: What dream?

DR. GIBBS: To build an army of genetically engineered super apes and take over the world.

THE MIDDLEMAN: – and take over the world. Let her go, Blofeld, or your secret lair’s a grease stain.

DR. GIBBS: Don’t be stupid. You’re low hanging fruit and Spanky’s a surgeon with that gun.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Then he might as well shoot. Because if there’s one thing I hate more than scientists trying to take over the world, it’s scientists who twist innocent primates with computer enhanced mind control to live out their sick and perverted fantasies of criminal power.

DR. GIBBS: Ventilate him.

ALARM: Computer shut down.

DR. GIBBS: No-o-o-o!

THE MIDDLEMAN: Put ‘em up, Gibbs. No more monologuing or I Swiss cheese you on principle. I tell ya, some chuckleheads always trying to take over the world.

WENDY: Is it true what you said? That if there’s one thing you hate more than scientists trying to take over the world, it’s scientists who twist innocent primates with computer enhanced mind control to live out their sick and perverted fantasies of criminal power?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Why would I lie about that?

WENDY: It’s a very specific thing to hate.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Self-knowledge is the gateway to freedom.

WENDY: And what happens now?

THE MIDDLEMAN: We stick Dr. Evil with a tranquilizer dart and the gun that killed all those mobsters in her hand and let Johnny Law do the algebra.

WENDY: Hm. And what about Spanky and his gang? I mean, they’re just innocent apes who got kidnapped, experimented on, mind-cracked by a supercomputer and forced to do evil. They didn’t know what they were doing. They don’t deserve to live in a lab.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Our work on this planet is done. We’re just the middlemen.

WENDY: Know what, can I make a call?

THE MIDDLEMAN: It’s a free country.

WENDY: Hey, Lacey. It’s me. About those animal liberation dudes you’ve been hangin’ with…

Television Screen

REPORTER: A federally-funded lab was disgraced and a leading researcher arrested when animal rights activists exposed the illegal mind control experiments. The apes in this lab are being returned to the wild by an animal rights organization and it’s all because of this young activist.

LACEY: The moment we heard about the egregious abuses of these so-called scientists, we alerted the authorities. Now these defenseless apes will go to a safe sanctuary back in the wilderness where they belong.

REPORTER: Right. Now can you tell us why you’re carrying that sign?

LACEY: Uh, Fr – French cuisine kills bunnies. Fr – French cuisine kills –

The Alley Behind Wendy's Illegal Sublet

THE MIDDLEMAN: I gotta hand it to ya. I had no idea your roommate was so well-connected in the primate liberation community. You did outstanding work tonight.

WENDY: Yeah, sure I did.

THE MIDDLEMAN: You disagree?

WENDY: You ever read comics?

THE MIDDLEMAN: As a matter of fact, I think Jughead is a real hoot.

WENDY: Ever read Batman? Well, the Joker had a nickname for Batman’s sidekick. Robin, the Boy Hostage.

THE MIDDLEMAN: That’s very clever.

WENDY: Yeah, I was held at gunpoint by a gorilla while you did your Dudley Do-Right thing.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Maybe the next time I want to handle something by myself, you’ll listen.

WENDY: I wouldn’t count on it.

THE MIDDLEMAN: Then I’ll just tie you to the car. Oh, yes, I would. Oh, and uh, one more thing, Dubbie.

WENDY: You’re not going to stop calling me 'Dubbie' are you?

THE MIDDLEMAN: Not a gosh darn chance in heck.

Wendy's Illegal Sublet

WENDY: Yeah, as a matter of fact, Mom, I do have a brand new job. Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s more of a freelance thing. Yeah, I get plenty of time to paint and a great work out. My boss? You’d really like him. He's into guns. Just like Dad.


So happy to find this -- thank you! Awesome!

(Btw, in the line "WENDY: Is there a reason we’re repelling down to the computer?" I'm pretty sure it should be rappelling. Hope you don't mind me pointing that out. :-)