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| - Narrator: On a sunny Saturday morning, the Botsford family is trying something new for breakfast. TJ: Uh, spaghetti and meatballs? Mr Botsford: That’s right, today’s the annual Car Wash Wash-off School Fundraiser! TJ: And…? Mr. Botsford: Well, I was reading this article that said you should eat pasta before entering a marathon. Or a car wash. Keeps morale high and gives you more ooomph! TJ: Ooomph! Oh-- okay. Pass the parmesan cheese, please! Mr. Botsford: And we’re going to need all our strength if we’re gonna beat our rivals-- the Mings! Mrs. Botsford: Hon, the car wash isn’t a competition, and the Mings aren’t our rivals! Mr. Botsford: (laughing) Right! This is all for fun, right kids? Becky: Right, Dad. TJ: Right, Dad. Mr. Botsford: And it’ll be even more fun when we’re named the top carwashing family for the third year in a row! Right, kids? Huh? Who’s with me? (points at his mouth) Smiling? Becky and TJ: Right, Dad. Mr. Botsford: That’s the spirit! Now, who wants more spaghetti? (Exposition Guy opens the front door.) Exposition Guy: He-e-e-elp! Someone is robbing the Gilded Cleaver from the Kitchens of the Past Museum! Mrs. Botsford: Oh dear! But why are you telling us? Exposition Guy: Isn’t this the police station? Mr. Botsford: Nope. This is the Botsford residence. We’re the Botsfords! Exposition Guy: Oh. Sorry. He-e-e-e-elp! (runs off) Becky: (whispering to Bob) That’s our cue! We need an excuse! Becky: That could work! (speaking in a normal tone) Mom, Dad... Bob and I need to go get-- new rubber gloves for the car wash! Mr. Botsford: Okay, hon. We’ll meet you there. Mr. Botsford: Hey! They didn’t finish their breakfast pasta! Becky: Word UP! (They take off.) Narrator: Moments later, on their way to the Kitchens of the Past Museum… wait, did I read that right? WordGirl: Yep, our mayor will let just about anyone build a museum! So, Huggy, someone is trying to steal the Gilded Cleaver. And since a cleaver is a knife used to cut meat, I think I have a pretty good idea who we’re up against. (Huggy shrugs and chatters at her.) No-- no, not Two-Brains. His thing is the cheese, remember? Come on… a cleaver cuts meat, therefore it must be… WordGirl: Uh, alright. Well, there’s an easy, um, hang tight. You’ll see! WordGirl: Hold it right there, Butch-- er? Who are you? Marauder: I, my dear, am the Masked Meat Marauder. Prepare to be dazzled by my never-before-seen powers over meat and meat by-products! WordGirl: You’re not from around here, are you? Marauder: No, I just moved to the city yesterday, in fact. WordGirl: Well, I hate to break this to you, but this city already has a meaty villain. His name is-- Butcher: Alright! Nobody move! It is I, the Butcher. And I’m here to robberate the Gilded Clea-- uh, who are you? (to WordGirl) Who is he? WordGirl: New meat villain. And it’s rob, not robberate. Marauder: New? I’ll have you know I’ve been doing this for years. Certainly longer than pajama guy over here. Butcher: Hey, Bub! This here’s a professional uniform! Not like your getup! Marauder: Just because you don’t recognize a real butcher’s uniform-- Butcher: (laughs) REAL butcher? You’re copying MY act! And stealing my idempity! WordGirl: Uh, I think you mean identity? Marauder: The only thing I’m stealing is that Gilded Cleaver! Butcher: Yeah, I don’t think so, bub! WordGirl: Guys-- Marauder: I doubt you think at all. WordGirl: Uh, guys-- Butcher: Oh, you’re gonna eat those words! WordGirl: GUYS! Butcher: What?! WordGirl: You’re not copying each other, okay? You’re rivals! Marauder: We’re what, now? WordGirl: You’re rivals! Competitors with similar qualities who are both trying for the same goal. In this case, you two rivals are both trying to be the town’s number one meat villain! Marauder: Fascinating. Lovely to meet you both, keep in touch. (he takes off) Butcher: Oh no you don’t! WordGirl: Oh no you don’t! Butcher: PASTRAMI ATTACK! (He fires pastrami slices at the Masked Meat Marauder. WordGirl and Huggy get in the way, and the slices pile up around them.) Marauder: Ha, ha, ha. (to Butcher) Is that your idea of a meat attack? Dumping pastrami on people? Butcher: Oh, and I suppose you can do better! Marauder: I suppose I could… Chicken with Balsamic Shallot Puree! Marauder: Au revoir! (runs off) Butcher: Aw, you’re gonna get it! (He stretches his arms out, exploding the chickens off of him. WordGirl and Huggy have also managed to free themselves from the pastrami.) WordGirl: Not so fas-- WordGirl: Great! Two rival meat villains at each other’s throats. (Checks her wrist) Oh, and it’s time for the car wash! WordGirl: Oh, well I’m glad you think it’s delicious. Come on! (takes off with Huggy) Scoops: Hiya, Botsfords! Mr. Botsford: (coldly) Yes. Hiya. Scoops: Hey, Mr. Botsford! My dad said to tell you, um… (reading) good luck, enjoy second place! Mr. Botsford: Huh! How-- nice of him. Scoops: Say, where’s Becky? She’s your best washer! And it looks like your team could use a boost in-- um… what’s that word? Becky: Morale! It means how excited a group of people feels about what they’re doing! Scoops: Yeah, that’s the definition! Thanks, Becky! I was almost late today too. I had to cover a story for the Daily Rag. Becky: (getting her sponge ready) Uh-huh. That’s great, Scoops. Scoops: It was about Mrs. Von Hoosinghaus. Did you know that she bought a diamond-studded grill for her barbecue today? Weird. Becky: Diamonds-studded barbecue grill? (to Bob) I think I know where this is going. Becky: Dad, I’ll be right back. I have to go get some soap that’s --uh, soapier. So the sponges will go faster! Sure to improve morale. Mr. Botsford: Okay, but hurry back. We’re starting soon! Scoops: Soapier sponges, eh? (walks off) Becky: (from offscreen) Word UP! Mr. Botsford: Oh, I wish we had matching t-shirts! (Another shot of the Mings, glaring at him with matching t-shirts.) Narrator: Moments later, at the mansion of Miss Edith von Hoosinghaus… Edith: WordGirl! Thank goodness you’re here. Butcher: For the last time, hands off, bub! I’m taking the grill! Marauder: Maybe you should. You’ll need something to play with now that I’ve replaced you! Butcher: The only thing that needs replacing around here is your mouthwash! WordGirl: Alright! Knock it off, both of you! Butcher: No way! This grill’s mine! I thought of it first! Marauder: Yes, but I got here first, so it’s mine! Baloney breath here won’t give it up! Butcher: Watch it, steak face! Marauder: That’s prime rib, baby! WordGirl: Hey! Here’s the thing-- neither one of you is stealing the grill! I’m taking you both in! Butcher: KIELBASA CRUSHER! Marauder: Filet Mignon with Cognac Sauce! Marauder: Now then, the grill is mi-- Marauder: Huh? Butcher: Toodeloo! Aur--aur--regards! Marauder: Why, that sneaky-- Edith: Well, that was embarrassing! For you! (chuckles) But at least the morale of the party guests seems to be picking up. Exposition Guy: He-e-elp! The Ming family is running away with this year’s car wash! I think the Botsfords might be done for! (walks away) Edith: I don’t remember inviting him… WordGirl: Sometimes we need a little help getting to the next scene. Edith: Oh. Alright then. (walks off) WordGirl: Come on, CHF! Word UP! Narrator: Over at the elementary school, the Car Wash Wash-off is in full swing... Mrs. Botsford: Another satisfied customer! Mr. Botsford: How many is that, son? TJ: Four. Mr. Botsford: Oh, let’s see. (pulls out his car wash diary and flips through it) By this time last year, we had washed-- one hundred twenty-five cars? Sweet David Blaine, that’s not very good at all! Mrs. Botsford: Come on, we’re out here to have fun and work for a good cause! Mr. Botsford: Oh, cause, schmause! This stinks! We’re losing, Becky’s not here, and we don’t even have matching t-shirts! Becky: Hey team, how we doin’? Mr. Botsford: (losing it) Oh, who cares anymore? Becky: (to Bob) Jeesh! Seems like morale sure could use a boost! TJ: I’ll say! The Mings are ahead one hundred twenty-eight to four! With only thirty minutes left! Becky: Thirty minutes? Piece of cake! Let’s-- Exposition Guy: He-e-elp! The Butcher is on TV! Butcher: This is the Butcher! With a message for my so-called rival, the Masked Meat Marauder! See this? This is the priceless Ye Olde Butcher Shoppe porcelain figure! Whoever steals it first gets to stay in town! The loser has to pack up and ship out! Got it? Marauder: Wait just a minute now. Butcher: Hey! Split screen? Marauder: Why do you get to choose what we steal? Butcher: Get off my TV! Becky: Oh, whoops! Uh, we need, uh, a new spray bottle! This one’s acting funny. (sprays it into Bobs face, and he covers his eyes.) See? Be right back! Hang in there. (walks away with Bob.) Butcher: Ha-ha! You missed! CORNED BEEF KAPOW! Marauder: Pathetic! Chicken a la King with Dijon Vinaigrette! Butcher: Missed again, you-- misser. WordGirl: Hold it right there, Butcher, a-and also the Masked Meat Marauder! Butcher: PORK CHOP CHOP! Marauder: Venison Sausage with Cranberry Mousse! WordGirl: Huggy, incoming! (She blocks the pork chop attack with her cape, and Huggy eats the sausages.) Marauder: Hey, no fair! Did you know he could do that? Butcher: You got a lot to learn about those two, bub! WordGirl: Time to-- pack it in, meatsters! Butcher: I don’t think so, WordGirl! We have you surroundered! Marauder: We? I’m not helping you, you’re my rival. And you give meat villains a bad name! Butcher: Alright, have it your way! MEATBALL MAYHEM! Marauder: Ripple Roasted Peking Duck! WordGirl: Elevator… (She jumps out of the way with Huggy, and the meat attacks land on both of the villains.) Butcher: Ah, great! Way to go, steakface! Marauder: (tasting the meatballs) You know, with a splash of tomato sauce and some penee, these wouldn’t be half bad. WordGirl: Tell them what they’ve won, Sarge! Sergeant Henderson: A long stay in our special meat villain jail cell! Except there’s only room for one! Let’s go, Butcher! Butcher: (perking up) Really? You’re picking me? Hey, thanks! In your face, Marauder! Sergeant Henderson: We’re shipping you out, Marauder! There’s an empty jail cell in the next city over-- Meatropolis! Butcher, Marauder, and WordGirl; (together) Meatropolis? Sergeant Henderson: Yeah. (reading from a flyer) There’s twenty-three butcher shops, a hamburger parade every Sunday, and no superheroes or superhero monkeys. Marauder: Sounds quite nice, actually. Butcher: No fair! I wanna go to Meatropolis! Sergeant Henderson: Yeah, hello? Exposition Guy: Help! The Botsford family is about to lose their car wash wash-off to their rivals, the Mings! Sergeant Henderson: I don’t think that’s a crime. Exposition Guy: Oh, sorry. Never mind! (hangs up and runs off) He-e-elp! WordGirl: Gee, those Botsfords sure sound like a nice family! Uh, coincidentally and in no way related, we we have to go now. Heh-heh. Uh, goodbye. Word UP! Narrator: And with just one minute to go, the Botsfords trail the Mings one fifty to twenty. Looks like the Botsfords can kiss their title goodbye! Narrator: But what’s this? The Botsford tally is going up! Up, up! Thirty cars… Fifty cars… Eighty? Ninety? One hundred? TJ: Mom! Dad! It’s Becky! Narrator: Just look at her go! One twenty! One thirty! One forty! One forty-five! And that is time, everybody! Put down your sponges! (Becky drops her sponge.) Mrs. Botsford: Great job, sweetheart! (The Mings look on in disbelief.) Mr. Botsford: Way to go, Becky! Must have been the spaghetti we ate for breakfast! Narrator: The final tally is… One fifty-two to… one fifty-two! It’s a tie. Mr. Ming: Congratulations, Botsford. Mr. Botsford: You too. Mr. Ming: You’re going down next year, Botsford. Mr. Botsford: Come get some, Ming! Narrator: So, car wash slash meat battle fans, for a sure-fire boost in morale, and action adventure entertainment with no rival, tune in to the next exciting episode of WordGirl!
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