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Eat your heart out,
Millennium Falcon.

Come on, Bob,
you piece of..., faster. Faster!

We're losing it,
you slow ass.

Don't yell at me.
I'm going as fast as I can.

Oh! That's not good.

Welcome back
to the final elimination round

of the galaxy's hottest race
across space.

"The Fifty Million Kronig
Flaming Colossus. "

Hi, I'm Jack Tackleworthy,

and these two honeys
are Trixie and Dixie.

Whoo! Yeah!

Now if you're home watching this
in your recliner

with one hand on a brewski
and the other hand down your pants,

you might be a grayneck.

I don't mean to offend
our mild-mannered alien cousins,

but you know
what happens when cousins marry.

They become contestants.

We've narrowed this week's group
down to just three.

Leading tonight is
Afron Goobie,

flying his spacecraft
the Generally.

Not "General Lee,"
just "Generally. "

I guess the names
Roughly, Basically

and Around About
were already taken.

Lagging behind Generally
is Chode McBlob,

flying his spacecraft Bob.

If Chode wants
a chance at glory,

he better find a way
to get rid of the junk in the trunk.

What do you say, girls?

Jesus Christ, you heard him.
Dump the junk in the trunk.

Captain, I've dumped
every useless thing off the ship

to give us the edge.

Don't even think
about it, testicle breath.

Chode, maybe it's time
you accept defeat.

Never. This is the closest
we've ever come

to making the Colossus final
and I'm not about to give up now.

You won't have to.
The Generally is about

one New York minute
from the finish line.

Come on, people, think!

There's got to be
something we can do.

Uncle Chode, what if we fire
invisible photon rays

at the Generally
to slow him down?

But that would be cheating.

You're firing the photon rays,
aren't you?

Hmm.

We're coming right down
to the finish line.

But what's this?
Looks like an upset.

It appears the Generally
is generally out of this competition.

So it really is age
before beauty.

At least until next week
when Chode McBlob

joins our other five finalists

in the space competition

when "The Fifty Million Kronig

Flaming Colossus" continues.

I'm Jack Tackleworthy,
and I'll see you at the finish line.

We are the champions!
We are the champions!

I guess congratulations
are in order.

Thanks, Six,
but I couldn't do it alone.

No, you had to cheat.

Hey, I'd sell my third nut
to win the "Flaming Colossus. "

Gee, thanks for the visual.

No, you don't understand.
This competition means everything to me.

- And it's not about the money.
- Huh?

I mean it.
I've always come this close

to reaching real fame
and fortune my whole life.

I'm not about to let it slip
through my fingers

like it always has.

Chode, how do you spell "relief"?

R- o-I-a-i-d-s.

I'm sorry, that's incorrect.

It's a real Cinderella story

as first back rookie
Chode McBlob goes long

with five seconds left
on the clock, and it's...

Over!

And the nominees for Best Actor
in an Animated Series are

Willie the Poo
in "Bathroom Humor,"

Buck McNuts in "Buck
the Psychopathic Squirrel"

and Chode McBlob in "Tripping the Rift. "

And the Cartoony goes
to Willie the Poo!

Whoo-hoo!

See what I mean? I even lost out
on the Cartoony to a piece of crap.

That's why this race is
so important to me.

Aw, Chode, that's sweet.

Six, just once in my lifetime
I wanna taste that kind of victory.

Yeah, well, your soup du jour
is the agony of defeat.

Oprah's been pushing this book.
It says you can get anything you want

in life just by visualizing it.

- You hear that, Bob?
- Aye-aye, Captain, I'll try my best.

Ha! Losers always whine
about their best.

There's no shame
in coming in last.

We're not coming in last. There's no
reason Bob can't take us to victory.

Uh, I can think of one,
Uncle Chode.

This time next week
the galaxy's biggest competition

will be underway
and oddsmakers predict a win

for Desmond Dietrich
and his ship the Sonic Boom.

Dietrich claims his
aeronautical design

is not only three times faster
than the speed of light,

but also gets over
50 miles a gallon city,

90 highway.

Whoa!
Look at that hotrod.

I know, and his ship
isn't bad either.

Big deal.
It's gonna take a lot more

than some fancy jargon
and fiery decals to scare us.

Right, Bob? Bob?

I think my main thruster
just shrunk three inches.

- I want it.
- Hey, you beautiful people.

How are you doing?

A-1, buddy, A-1.

I can tell you're a man of taste
and sophistication.

Yeah, and I can tell you're
a first-class bullshit artist

looking for a fat commission.

Don't mind her. She was raised
by a rabid pack of hyenas.

No sweat, no sweat.

I like someone who says

what's on its mind.

If you see anything you like,

I can offer you some
creative "feenance" packages.

Is it "feenance" or finance?

That first one sounds fancier,

like you're not about to get boned
by a balloon payment.

And I don't wanna spend
more than 500,000 kronigs.

I hear you, brother!

Perhaps you'd like
to step into my office.

- So we got a deal?
- No, you didn't tell me

you had a bankruptcy
on your credit report.

Yeah, but that was,
like, six weeks ago.

Please, you gotta help me.
I gotta win that race.

I'll do anything.
Have a heart.

I'm a used-car salesman, hello!

That's it. We're finished.

You know, Uncle Chode,
instead of getting a new ship,

maybe all we need
to do is retrofit Bob.

Whip, this is gonna take
a lot more than a wax job

and a can
of That New Ship Smell.

I got a friend... Sergio.
He's got a chop shop.

- I don't believe it.
- It's true. It's in the barrio.

No, that you've got a friend.

Sergio, chop shop, barrio?

Why do I get the sense we're dealing
with an illegal operation?

Chode, if you're planning
to go through with this crazy idea,

don't you think you owe it
to Bob to tell him first?

Tch! Are you ever gonna tell me
where your "off" switch is?

So you see, Bob,
in order to win the race,

we have to give you
a little makeover.

Makeover, why?

Because I've never been so close
to winning 50 million kronigs before...

I thought you said
it wasn't about the money.

And a victory of this kind.

Captain, I may not be
state of the art,

but I thought you appreciated me
for what I am.

I do, but take Six.

I appreciate her
for who she is:

Gigantic boobs,
an ass that goes on forever

and great in the sack.
But if she looked like a dog,

do you think I'd put up with her cutting
remarks and annoying conscience?

- Well, I...
- Of course not.

And right now when it comes
to speed, you're a dog.

Bob, let's face it. Everyone can use
a bit of improvement at some point.

I'm thinking of someone
right now.

Are you sure all that...
is gonna win the race for me?

ЎAy cabrуn! Just wait till I show you
how my homeys juiced up the inside.

Let me guess,
a pair of fuzzy dice

hanging off
the rearview mirror.

When the McBlobs came to us,

he and his ship were
in sad shape.

But with a little help
from my interior designer Pedro

and my main engineer Javier,

we were determined
to get his ship together.

So what do you think?

It looks like Ugly Betty
exploded all over this place.

- I like it.
- Listen to what you got under the hood.

Double-turbo main
warp thrusters capable

of speeds up to five times
the speed of light.

Five times?
I thought the record was three.

You stand corrected, but rest assured,

there's nary a ship
in the galaxy as fast as me.

Bob, is that you?

I detect surprise
in your vocal patterns, Six.

Perhaps I can explain. Master Sergio
upgraded my virtual memory.

So from now on,
you're gonna sound like

someone shoved
a dictionary up your ass?

Precisely. I'm faster,
stronger and smarter

than any ship in the galaxy.

And an ego to go with it, I see.

It's a side effect
from all the virtual improvements.

See, Bob just doesn't believe
he's unstoppable.

He is unstoppable.

You hear that, Six?
I smell victory in the air.

But for some reason

it seems to smell
like refried beans.

Chode, how are we going
to afford all this?

Relax, we're golden.
I found ourselves a sponsor.

What do you think?
Before you respond,

Pucker Up not only paid
for everything,

but they're gonna pay us another
hundred grand after we win the race.

To be divided equally
among the crew.

I love it, Captain.

It makes you look
dashing, studly,

dare I say it,
like a real winner.

Pardon me, Captain.

Aperitifs and hors d'oeuvres
are being served on the Lido Deck.

I think that's French for booze
and pretzels in the mess hall, gang.

You're all invited
to my pre-victory party.

Whoo-hoo, yeah!

Please stand by for system reset

in three, two, one.

System fully restored.

Behind me stands
the six fastest contestants

for the galaxy's
ultimate competition.

This is "The Fifty Million Kronig

Flaming Colossus"!

Chode, you started out
this race sorrier

than a grayneck in a Winnebago
without a beer.

How did you manage
to turn it all around?

All it took was
an attitude adjustment

and a little makeover
courtesy of my friends

at Pucker Up
hemorrhoid ointment.

Now in three flavors,
including scratch 'n' sniff.

Well, I'll say this for you,

you're bringing a winning attitude
of a real champion.

Hey, didn't you used to be...

I can't take looking
at that goofy-ass grin.

Whip, turn it off.

- Ow!
- I'm not done watching.

Okay, Bob,
you didn't have to shock me.

What's with the 'tude, dude?

The race starts
in less than 30 minutes.

You think maybe it would be
a good idea

if I knew
about my competition, dude?

There's no reason to resort
to sarcasm, Bob. That's my job.

In that case, what's T'nuk
bringing to the table,

other than an insatiable appetite

and an inability to remember
to flush the toilet?

Oh, wait, this is where funbags
chimes in with her 2ў.

What are you laughing at, fembot?

Richard Simmons just called.
He said it's time you butch it up.

Who put the stick up his ass?

Think maybe he's having a reaction
to all the upgrades?

- It's possible.
- So how do we figure out a way

to dial down the Don Rickles?

I can hear you!

It's one thing to be surrounded
by idiots,

but do I really have
to hear you speak?

Isn't it time for my meat puppets
to get ready for the race?

Why you!

You're right, Bob.

Just make sure whatever
you put on has some nipple-age action.

I could use some eye candy.

Do me a favor.
Run a system check.

Hey there, hot stuff.
I just want to apologize

- for my snarky attitude before.
- Bob, what are you doing here?

I thought I'd shut down
video communication in my bedroom.

You did.
I turned it back on.

- Where's Chode?
- Up on the bridge.

But I don't wanna talk about him.
I wanna talk about us.

Us? Bob, there is no us.

There could be.
What are you doing after the race?

I know this hotspot just east
of the Crab Nebula.

That's never
gonna happen, Bob.

- Give me one reason why not.
- Ugh!

Oh, I see
what your little plan is.

You're gonna get rid of me
after the race.

If there was something wrong with Bob,
don't you think I'd know about it?

He's been acting
really strange, Chode.

He called us
his meat puppets.

Yeah, yeah, big whoop.
I call you my meat puppets.

I think a virus might have
infected him, Uncle Chode.

He locked me out
when I was doing a system check.

Pardon me, Captain.
In your absence, I felt it was

only appropriate that
I perform the system check,

given the fact that I'm the only one
familiar with the complexities

- of the new software.
- See?

Welcome, racers,

to "The Fifty Million Kronig
Flaming Colossus. "

Y'all know the parameters.

The first ship to cross the line
at the Andromeda Vector

wins the competition.

Gentlemen, start your engines.

Chode, can we
please talk about this?

Guess not.

It's been three hours
and so far Chode McBlob

has taken a commanding lead.

If his ship maintains this speed,

victory will be in his hands.

- Go, Chode! Go, Chode!
- Go, Chode! Go, Chode!

Uh-oh, something appears
to be wrong.

McBlob's spacecraft
has taken a sudden turn off-course

into the Mondavi Galaxy.

What's going on?

I don't know, Uncle Chode. I told you,
Bob locked me out of the system.

Well, I'm sure Bob has
a perfectly good explanation

for this diversion.
Probably a shortcut.

Guess again, fatboy.

Okay, you're just trying
to keep the race competitive?

How about I've set the ship's
coordinates on a collision course

- with a brown dwarf.
- Like that kid from "Webster"?

No, you imbecile.
It's a dark star,

filled with nuclear energy.

Once we pierce
its gravitational field,

the radiation will eviscerate
every living thing inside my hull.

And that's not a good thing, right?

- No.
- Now can we talk about this?

Yeah.

It's no use, Captain.
I'm in control now.

And I'm about
to turn up the heat.

Yeah, I kinda figured that out
when you set us on a death course.

No, I mean literally.

I set the ship's thermostat
for 110° Fahrenheit.

Why would you do that?

I don't know.
Hey, Six, are you getting sweaty

under that leather outfit
of yours?

You could always remove it.

Hey, brainiac, I'm a cyborg.

Cyborgs don't sweat.

Damn! Never mind.

It won't be long
before you're nothing

but pillars of space dust
and I'm free of you forever.

We're all going to die.
We're all going to die!

Pull yourself together, Fairy Manilow.
We just need to figure this out.

This is your captain speaking.
You all can put your tray tables up

and seats in their upright position
as you'll all be reaching

your final destination
in less than five minutes.

Ow, my eye!

Okay, I need ideas.

Give it up, people. 10 minutes,
you'll all resemble Melba toast.

Shut up, Bob!
Whip, is there any way

you could shut down
Bob's mainframe?

It's possible,
but I'd have to get to it

by crawling through the ship's bowels,
and it's gonna be a tight fit.

Ship's bowels, tight fit,

take Gus with you.
It sounds like a job for the tin fairy.

- What are you doing?
- Putting on protection.

What if this doesn't work, Chode?

Then there's always plan B.

Which is?

You stand in the corner
with your eyes closed,

while I pound Six's hot muffin
until the big kaboom.

Oh, really? Just try to get wood
with me in the room,

- you purple moron!
- Eww!

Really, Whip?
Do you actually think

you're clever enough
to outsmart me?

Don't underestimate
the power of will, Bob.

I wouldn't count us out just yet.

Huh?

Which one of us
rocket scientists decided

to bring matches
instead of flashlights?

The batteries were dead.

- Oh!
- I don't know what's worse.

The heat
or T'nuk's smelly pits.

Come on, Bob.
We're dying here.

If you're gonna kill us, kill us.
At least turn on the AC.

It's too hot for you, is that it?

In that case...

Why are you doing this, Bob?

I don't care what kind
of virus infected your system.

The Bob I know would
only wanna please us.

Tell you what.
You got three minutes until implosion.

Any last requests?

Yeah, could you stop
and let us off?

Make that 90 seconds of life.

90 seconds, Six.
You know what this means.

Will you put that away?

I want you to try something.

Are you crazy?

Oh! It's freezing in here, Bob.

Think you could
turn up the heat?

Chill out, bitch!

Wow! "Vagina Monologue"
here was right.

Will someone please tell me
what's going on?

It seems the infected Bob
does the exact opposite

of whatever we want.

Now maybe if we pretend
we wanna die, he'll let us live.

What the hell? It worked
for George Costanza on "Seinfeld. "

I wanna die.
You hear me, Bob?

Kill me now!

And if your theory's wrong,
there's always an upside.

Yes, my miserable existence

with this selfish pencil... loser

is finally coming to an end.

Easy, Six,
you don't have to oversell it.

I command you, Bob,
to stay on course

with the brown dwarf.
Do not pull out.

I repeat, do not pull out!

It worked.

Okay, Bob,
this is your captain speaking,

listen to me very carefully.

I wanna lose that race.
Do you understand?

I want you to say
a million light-years

from that finish line.

Looks like the Sonic Boom
has this race all but wrapped up,

as he glides into the final stretch.
What's this?

My producers have told me
Chode McBlob is coming up from behind.

Incredible!

Snip the red wire.
It controls Bob's internal functions.

- Are you sure?
- Pretty sure,

but right now we really don't
have much of an option. Snip it.

Here goes nothing.

Oh!

What's going on?

You did it, Whip. You saved the day.

- What just happened?
- You're a capital "L" loser once again,

crap sack.

I'm serious.
I've never seen

a more pathetic display
than I have today.

This is one
of those moments in life

Chode's gonna have to live over
again and again!

But let's hear it
for Desmond Dietrich

and his Sonic Boom.
Yee-haw!

Oh, no!

What's going on?

The ass-cream people repossessed
all of our upgrades.

- Thanks, Bob.
- I told you.

If you think I'm gonna apologize,
forget it.

If you hadn't tried to turn me
into something I'm not,

- all this would never have happened.
- Hey, Bob, you sound a lot better.

Good news. Bob's back
to his same incompetent self.

Yeah, I finally got rid
of the last of that virus.

Bad news. We're gonna
be eating leftover frijoles

until the summer...

- Oops, sorry.
- Give one to Bob.

You know what they say.

Feed a cold,
starve a failure.

I'm sorry, Chode. I know how much
this competition meant to you.

Hey, Uncle Chode,
check this out.

I submitted the footage
from "The Flaming Colossus"

- to this new game show.
- And the winner

of the season finale
of the "Galaxy's Biggest Loser"

- is Chode McBlob!
- Wow!

You really are unbelievable.

Even when you win, you lose.