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"Motorcross Trap"
Written by: Ben Mattlin
Produced and Directed by: Tom Tataranowicz
Executive Producers: Rick Ungar and Tom Tataranowicz
INTRODUCTORY SUMMARY NOTE
Okay, let's get this out of the way. This is the stupidest title ever. Ever ever ever. EEEEEEEEVVVVVVERRRRR. Dumber than "Test of Friendship," even. I can understand why it was used. I mean, what else do you call this episode? Limburger sets a trap using the mice's love of motorcross racing as a lure. There's just not much room for a witty turn of phrase. But I mean, come on. Wasn't there a movie out that the writers could've spoofed or something?
But like "Test of Friendship," this is an episode that's much MUCH better than it's title. What seems like a hokey-ass setup turns out to be surprisingly entertaining. Witness: the return of Evil Eye Weevil (and the Pukes of Hazard), the new and improved Loogey Brothers, and Quigley Field in the balance! What's not to like? On your mark…get set…GO!
EPISODE SYNOPSIS
Asked to choose between a pair of equally novel openings, more "Biker Mice" fans would probably pick a Tampa Beach strip club than a graveyard. Given America's prudish broadcast standards, though, we probably shouldn't be surprised that the only hooters we get to see as Limburger and his goons make their first appearance in this episode are owls perched on a cemetery's wrought iron gates. Oh well.
At any rate, this boneyard, apparently located on the outskirts of Chicago, appears to be quite old, or at least extremely neglected. Tombstones seem to have been driven into the ground completely at random. They stick up out of the ground at odd angles, like rotted teeth in diseased gums.
Greasepit gazes up at the gates nervously.
"I don't like graveyards, boss," he whimpers. "They're spooky."
"My corpulent carven, have you never heard of 'voting the graveyard'?" Limburger asks merrily. "It's an old but unfortunately extinct Chicago tradition."
As Greasepit fiddles with a large red box hitched to his bike (getting his lips caught between its edge and the lid), the Big Cheese opens the gates and strolls across the cemetery grounds with nary a hint of fear. He pauses before a stone reading CAPONE and pulls out a yellow pad with a list of names written on it.
"My dear departed Alphonse," the Plutarkian purrs, "how would you vote on my ballot initiative to renovate Quigley Field? Renovate it Limburger style, that is." He cups an ear and asks, "What's that you say? You'll vote yes? I knew I could count on you!"
He turns to three other headstones marked DON CORNEYLEON, BUGSEY SEAGULL, PAUL SHOEBOX, and BOOTLEGGER ZAK, all of who seem to give Limburger affirmative responses. However, as he marks them down, a familiar metal hand knocks one marker over right onto Limburger's foot! The Plutarkian grabs it and begins hopping around madly as Greasepit moves the stone.
Suddenly, ghostly shadows appear on the ground, and a familiar voice calls out, "Boo! We're calling for a recount, cheeseball!"
"Ahhhh! Ghosts!" Greasepit screams. He jumps into Limburger's arms a la Scooby Doo, and the two of them fall to the ground as the shadows approach.
"Not quite, scuzzball," another familiar voice corrects.
The camera pans up, and we see that the phantoms are (you guessed it) Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie casting scary shadows in the moonlight.
"We're gonna make ghosts of your plans!" Vinnie quips.
"That's right!" Throttle says. "Rippin' Quigley Field down to bedrock just ain't gonna happen, you bag of fish guts!"
"Not while we're workin' the district!" Modo adds, his bionic arm sparkling in the moonlight.
"BURY THEM!" Limburger shouts, pushing Greasepit off him. The goon stumbles toward Throttle and Vinnie, who quickly link their tails and stretch them taut. Greasepit trips over them, lands flat on his stomach, and slides into a tombstone. The impact apparently knocks him unconscious.
"Better give up the ghost, cheeseball," Throttle advises. He points out the squadron of news vans approaching the cemetery and adds, "You're gonna look really cheesy on the morning news rigging the vote."
"And we're here to make sure you get all the exposure you deserve!" Modo quips.
Limburger seems strangely unperturbed by all this.
"Really?" he asks. "Well, I'm am sorry to disappoint you, my dear protagonists, but I prefer my profile to remain low. KARBUNKLE!"
Karbunkle emerges from a nearby box vault (strangely, just as if he were rising out of the floor at Limburger Tower via elevator). He holds a test tube full of a yellow liquid aloft (one can only hope that's not a urine sample).
"You called, your cheddary cheesiness?" he asks.
"Kindly detain these doormice, would you?"
Karbunkle is only too happy to comply. He draws the mice's attention to the vial in his hand.
"Behold, my newest invention, capable of bringing inanimate objects to life: Mobility Juice!"
Karbunkle sprinkles it all over the ground, which sucks up the liquid like a sponge. Seconds later, the whole cemetery begins shaking. To the mice's horror, corpses begin pulling themselves out of the ground and clambering toward them with a hungry look in their yellowed eyes.
"Uh oh, bros! Looks like trick or treat!" Throttle shouts.
Modo blasts one that has gained a grip on his leg and grumbles, "Trick is…"
"…we're the treat!" Vinnie concludes.
The mice start fighting the zombies with their usual gusto, but quickly find the battle ridiculously lopsided in their favor. The zombies' rotted bodies just can't take very much damage, with every kick and punch our heroes land knocking off parts of the creatures' bodies. For example, when Modo tries to throw a zombie over his shoulder, he accidentally rips both its arms off. The puzzled mouse is left standing there, holding the things, not sure of what to do. Finally, he hangs the arms on the creature's chest and pushes it away.
"A revoltin' development if ever ah seen one!" Modo groans.
Limburger's not too pleased with the situation, either. It's understandable. You play Resident Evil long enough, and you get to thinking that an army of the undead would be pretty useful to have around, but noooooooooooo…
"Get them, you decomposing delinquents!" the Plutarkian howls. "Alphonse! Bugsy! Get them! I command you!"
The corpses of Chicago's most famous gangsters are a little offended.
"Hey! Limburger! Youse don't talk like that to us!" Alphonse growls.
"An' another thing, fish-face--don't call me 'Bugsy'!" Mr. Seagull's corpse snaps as his head falls off.
"Youse gotta learn some respect!" another gangster zombie snarls. All the undead swarm around Limburger while the Biker Mice watch, amused.
"Heh! Bros, looks like the moldy oldies playin' at the cave!"
"C'mon, bros!" Throttle shouts, leading them to their bikes.
"But Limburger's still got that phony ballot box!" Vinnie protests as they leave the boneyard.
"Not for long. We'll nail his tail outside," Throttle explains.
"Um, there appears to be a miscount on the vote…" Limburger says hastily as he tries to dial for some assistance with his cell phone. But before he can reach anyone, one of the corpses knocks it from his hand, and they swarm on top of the Plutarkian. Limburger narrowly escapes the melee. In case you were wondering, Greasepit and Karbunkle were smart enough to hide themselves behind tombstones during the fight. As Limburger darts past, Karbunkle asks, "Do we depart, your Roquefort rancidness?"
"Shut up and run!" the Big Cheese snaps.
And they do.
The gangster zombies laugh as Limburger flees.
"Ahh, we still got the touch, eh?" one chuckles.
"Speaking of touch, how's about dialin' for some take-out?" Bugsy asks. He'd do it himself, but his left hand fell off when he tried to use Limburger's cell phone. The first zombie takes it and calls himself.
"Yeah, gimme a pizza, pronto. Pizza for this whole cemetery of deadbeats!"
The graveyard erupts into laughter.
"Those guys are loud enough to wake the dead!" Modo laughs.
"News flash, bro!" Throttle corrects. "They've had their wake-up call."
"Sleazeball parade, comin' through!" Vinnie calls out as Limburger, Greasepit, and Karbunkle zip past. The mice follow, and quickly find themselves head to head with a squad of dune buggy reinforcements.
"Looks like Limburger's turnin' up the heat!" Throttle shouts.
"AOOW!" Vinnie AOOWs. "Let's see if my old motorcross skills are still up to speed!" Come on, you knew one of the mice was gonna make mention of motorcross sooner or later. Nobody's said the word once in the series up till now, so you're gonna hear it about sixty-eight billion times during this episode.
The white-furred mouse races forward, dodging the goons' blasts with short jumps and returning fire in midair.
"They're gaining on us!" Limburger howls. He leans up over the front seat and orders Fred to whip out the secret weapons.
"Oh goody goody!" the little mutant coos happily. He presses a red button on the steering wheel, and a giant cannon emerges from the dashboard--pointed straight at Limburger! The Plutarkian dives down into the seat, butt wagging in the air, and cries, "Not in here! At them!"
"Aww," Fred sighs. "So near, and yet so far."
He presses another button, causing a rack of missile launchers to pop up out of the trunk and fire at the mice. Our heroes avoid them easily, and Vinnie fires a pair of his own back at the limousine.
"Evasive maneuvers!" Limburger shouts.
Fred whips the car around, and Vinnie's missiles nail Greasepit and Karbunkle instead. As the mice ride past the bike's smoldering wreckage, Modo inhales deeply and sighs, "Ah love the smell of fried grease in the evening."
If you hadn't caught on already, Fred is loving every second of this. Danger, destruction, the near certainty of intense physical pain any second--this is his masochistic little paradise. And if you're happy, why not share that happiness the ones you love--or at the very least, with your employer? Fred giddily turns upside-down in the seat, using his hands to work the pedals and his feet to steer. Now it's just a matter of time before the car slams into something, probably Limburger Tower.
And yet, Limburger lets him drive ALL THE TIME. So who's the real masochist?
Vinnie sees the opportunity and takes it.
"If you bros could spare me for a sec…" he says casually, speeding up and then jumping his bike toward Limburger's limo. He crashes through the window, and actually comes to a halt with half his bike inside the car.
"You've been trashed by Vinnie Van Victory! Motorcross champ of the galaxy! My trophy, if you please!"
He whips his tail around the ballot box and picks it up, laughing, "The polls are closed!"
"NO!" Limburger shouts. "Get him! Get him! Activate the cannon!"
Fred giggles and does just as he's told. The huge, dash-mounted cannon pops up once more, but by the time it's in position, Vinnie is long gone. So guess who's right in the line of fire now? Uh huh. Limburger barely has time to shout, "NO!" before Fred fires. One huge explosion later, the limo is reduced to a smoldering rolling chassis with seats. Limburger and Fred are both covered in ash. As a matter of fact, that's just about all that's covering the Plutarkian, since the blast has ripped his clothes to shreds.
"You have immolated ME!" he howls. "Oh, just look at my poor suit!"
Nearby, Throttle and Modo are putting out some flaming wreckage (presumably Greasepit's bike, although frankly, flaming wreckage just seems to appear wherever the mice are).
"Save me some heat, bros," Vinnie calls out as he chucks his prize onto the fire. "I got a box of bogus ballots to burn!"
"And Limburger's crooked scheme is up in smoke," Throttle concludes.
Later, we find Limburger reluctantly tossing away the remains of his charred suit. Come to think, with all the explosions in this series, he probably goes through a small fortune just keeping himself in clothes. Is it any wonder that he's always so pissed off?
"I must rid myself of those infernal mice!" the Plutarkian snarls. "If I could only lure those meddlers into a trap somehow…GREASEPIT!"
The floor suddenly erupts as Greasepit and his three-wheeler burst through on one of Karbunkle's funky elevators.
"Duh, youse bellowed, boss?"
"I need--"
Limburger eyes Greasepit's bike, which has undergone some obvious modifications.
"What in the name of the Seven Stinking Cesspools of Plutark are you doing?"
"I'm outfittin' the Grunge-Mobile for motorcross, boss," the good replies proudly. "You know, so I can beat the tails offa them mice!"
Unamused, Limburger growls, "Motorcross? Motorcycles? I'm sick of hearing about-"
A thought strikes him.
"Hmmm. Motorcross? Of course! What an obvious but diabolically brilliant idea!"
"Duh, thanks boss," Greasepit replies. "What idea?"
Limburger strolls over to the window.
"Those machismo-motivated Biker Mice will never be able to resist that. And to stack the deck even more, I'll hold it in Quigley Field! That way, if I play my cards correctly, I should be able to destroy not only those meddling mice, but Quigley Field as well!"
Limburger laughs and drops down into Karbunkle's lab, where the mad scientist is testing out a new concoction on his pain-loving lab assistant. He drips a single drop of his "Berserker Fluid" into Fred's open cranium. Instantly, the mutant's brain begins bubbling, assumes a doglike shape, and then viciously attacks Karbunkle!
"My dogs are barkin'!" Fred laughs, closing his skullcap before his brain can take a bite out of our resident mad scientist. He bounces around the room for a moment before coming to a stop.
"Once more around the room with gusto, doc!" he giggles.
Limburger arrives with a crash.
"Karbunkle?"
"Yes, your malevolent mozzarella-ness?" the scientist asks.
"Summon--the Loogey Brothers!"
Reluctantly, Karbunkle approaches the Transporter.
"Are you sure, your cultured creaminess?" he asks. "Surely you remember the trouble we had with that rotten pair last time!"
"I do indeed. The carpet is still redolent with the rueful reminiscence of their ripeness. Which is precisely why they would not dare disappoint me again. Besides, I hear they have been intensively training for their fourth consecutive 'Scum of the Universe' championship."
Karbunkle straps on a gas mask and punches in the appropriate coordinates. The Transporter flashes, and suddenly, the Loogeys appear. But they aren't exactly the same stink-fish we met last season in "We Don't Need No Stinkin' City." Bloated tubs at the end of that episode, they're not only back in fighting trim, but they've bulked up considerably as well.
"That is right! No more junk food!" Hacka cries, flexing.
Honka does the same and declares, "Exercise is our life now!"
"My dear stagnant stinkpots, I posit destroying the Biker Mice would be the very best exercise of al!" Limburger purrs.
"The last time they beat us, we were so depressed we binged and gained fifty pounds each!" Honka explains.
"Yah," Hacka agrees. "Through those months of dieting to lose it, the complete obliteration of those vermin is guaranteed!"
The two Plutarkians begin laughing madly, and after clothespinning his nose shut to keep the stink out, Limburger joins in.
Now, if you lived in a giant sports arena, wouldn't you want to make use of the facilities every now and then? You know, raid the snack bar between games, use the team's showers and saunas, etc.? Of course you would! And so would our heroes. As Limburger plots to destroy Quigley Field, the Biker Mice are taking advantage of the vacant diamond to play a little baseball. As is always the case when the mice are playing a game, though, they kick it up a notch. This time around, they're playing on their bikes--and making use of their weapons systems at the same time.
Vinnie, who's pitching, loads a ball into one of his bike's front cannons.
"My specialty fastball!" he shouts, firing.
Throttle grins and grips the bat tightly.
"Cooperstown, here I come!" he shouts, hitting a grand slam.
In the outfield, Modo begins chasing the ball, providing color commentary as he goes.
"Holy cow, it's a long fly ball! It's goin' to the stands!"
Modo doesn't let this stop him, though; he just leaps his bike into the stands and begins riding up the steps.
"Modo goes back! Back! Back!"
The gray-furred mouse's attention is so focused on the ball (and his play by play) that he doesn't notice how close he is to the top of the stands until he leaps off his bike to make the catch and finds himself falling over the edge! Modo catches himself just in time, and watches as the ball continues falling to the street, where it hits Greasepit (of all people) in the head!
"Dang pigeons," the goon snaps.
Modo hauls himself back up over the edge and calls his bros' attention to the scene below.
"Game called on account of drips," he says, pointing.
"Oh man!" Vinnie groans. "What's that lubeskull doin' here?"
Throttle uses his helmet's zoom feature to get a better look, and sees Greasepit putting up a giant poster across the street (beneath a sign reading "post no bills").
"There's your answer, bros! It says 'Motorcross championship at Quigley Field'!"
"'Motorcross'? Did someone really say 'motorcross' in my presence?" Vinnie asks, grinning ear to ear.
"It seems that the winner gets a crown of 'Motorcross Champ of the Galaxy,' and…oh man…a year's supply of free chilli dogs!" Throttle continues.
"Free dogs?" Modo asks skeptically. "Smells like bait to me."
"Hey!" Vinnie snaps sulkily. "I already AM undisputed Motorcross Champ of the Galaxy! Who put my title up for grabs, anyway?"
"Hey, chill, bro. It's all a Limburger trap for us, anyway," Throttle reminds him. He seems a little disappointed that the Big Cheese couldn't have made it a little less obvious.
Modo nods and puts a hand on Vinnie's shoulder.
"Yeah. After all, who else but us would enter a motorcross race with nothin' but chilli dogs as a prize?"
Well, since Modo asked, there's the Loogeys, who are enjoying a little arm wrestling match while they wait for orders from Limburger. It's not exactly a fair match, because Honka is tickling Hacka's foot under the table. The trick works; Hacka is quickly overcome (although Honka punching the table into little bits didn't help him any) and is knocked to the ground. On rising, he congratulates his brother on a great cheat, and Honka asks if he wants to go another round.
"Wait, Honka, do you smell something?" Hacka asks.
"Working out will do that, Hacka. That's manly Plutarkian sweat," Honka explains.
"Ach, but this smell is even more yummy that that, Honka!"
Honka sniffs the air and catches the scent.
"Mmm, yummy nums!" he moans, joining his brother at the window. There, they spot the source of the delicious aroma: a hot dog vendor on the street below.
"Roast poodles!"
"That's hot dogs, Honka!"
"The pinnacle of Earth junk food, Hacka!"
The Loogey's steely discipline falls in the face of temptation, and they declare a training break to indulge in their number one weakness. They leap their dune buggies out onto the street below, and almost land on the terrified people below.
Back at the Scoreboard, Charley notices a poster for the motorcross championship. She picks it up, reads it, and recognizes it for a trap instantly.
"What is that stinkball Limburger up to now?" she asks, tearing the poster in two.
"Tryin' to cop my title, that's what!" a sullen Vinnie replies.
"Come on, guys! It's obviously a trap!" the mechanic pleads.
"Sure it is," Throttle agrees. "So?"
"We've whipped that butterball before, and we'll do it again!" Modo reminds her.
"Yeah! Don't worry, sweetheart! Those chilli dogs are as good as ours!" Vinnie declares confidently.
"That's what I'm worried about, wiseguy," Charley grumblers. "You know what they do to your breath?"
"Hey! It's like a petunia!"
A loud crash outside draws the mice's attention, along with an ominous odor.
"Looks who's makin' a grub crawl," Modo sneers, pointing out the window. There, the mice see the Loogeys raiding an abandoned hot dog cart and scaring the shit out of everyone in a two-block radius. Naturally, the fuzzy trio leaps on their bikes to go save the day (and more importantly, their dinner).
"Hey, didn't you stinkfish learn anything last time?" Vinnie taunts from the hilltop (one obviously made for dramatic entrances).
"Yeah. Like the good guys always win?" Modo asks.
The Loogeys are undaunted.
"You Biker Mice are not scaring us!" Hacka declares.
"Yah! We came prepared! Look!"
Honka points behind the mice, and Throttle, like a dope, does just that. Honka pulls out a pistol and sucker-blasts him off his bike and right into a culvert full of running water.
"Oh man," Throttle groans. "I don't know what hurts worse--my backside, or the fact that I fell for a moldy old trick like that!" He makes it up the lip of the culvert, and then falls back down, aching.
The Plutarkians celebrate what amounts to their first real victory over the mice.
"Stink like a stinkbug--" Honka laughs.
"--sting like a bee!" Hacka cries.
"We are a team!"
"The Loooooogey Brothers!"
"You just made a big mistake, garbage-breath!" Vinnie shouts.
"Yeah!" Modo snarls, eye glowing bright red. "Nobody blasts our bro!"
The two mice race toward the Loogeys, who remain still until the very last second, when they dart away to reveal a large wall behind them. Vinnie and Modo are moving too fast to stop, and slam into the thing. The force knocks them off their bikes, they go flying, and land right on top of Throttle in the culvert (and he was almost out, too!). Bad enough to have been tricked, but even worse when the one they fell for is one they use all the time on Limburger's goons!
"You sissy rodents are not so much!" Honka declares as the two of them pull up beside the culvert.
"And when we're through with you, you'll be even less!" Hacka agrees.
The two of them pull out a pair of pistols and blast the mice. Now, most villains, if they had the heroes in such a spot, would probably use lasers and just kill them. Not the Loogeys. Instead, they hit the mice with what can only be described as stench rays. Clouds of noxious green gas issue from their weapons, choking our heroes. All things considered, they probably would've preferred lasers.
As the mice choke on the gas, Hacka says quickly, "We'd better slip away, Honka."
"Yah, but we'll be back, you so-called Biker Mice, to finish the job at the motorcross!"
The Loogeys zip away. After a few moments, Vinnie crawls up out of the culvert, covered in green slime.
"Oh man," he coughs. "Defending my motorcross title might be a little trickier than I thought."
Later, at the Last Chance, Charley is hard at work repairing the damage the Loogeys did to the mice's bikes while the guys enjoy some root beer (rather sloppily, I might add; they drip and spill it everywhere!).
"Well, I hope you guys have learned your lesson," the mechanic remarks.
"What lesson, sweetheart?" Vinnie asks.
"That this motorcross contest and you mice obviously don't mix."
Throttle chokes on his root beer, and coughs, "You kiddin'?!"
"Look what they did to our rides!" Modo snaps, squeezing his can of root beer so hard that the soda flies across the room and splashes Vinnie (see what I mean about being sloppy?).
"Not to mention my pride!" the white-furred mouse adds, wiping his face clean. "We gotta pay Limburger AND the Loogeys back big time!"
The mechanic rises.
"Well then, I'm coming, too."
Vinnie shakes his head as he reaches for another root beer.
"Sorry, Charley girl, but this is strictly hero stuff."
"But I--"
"Besides, it's way up there on the dangerous scale, babe," Throttle interrupts. "Check this out." He hands her a newspaper and points out an article on the race and reads, "'As a special safety precaution, no stadium tickets will be sold'."
The mechanic looks thoughtfully at the paper.
"Hmmm. Very suspicious. Limburger's obviously planning to destroy both you and the stadium."
Vinnie pours himself a very sloppy root beer.
"Leave the subtlety to us. We'll just have to destroy him first."
"I've heard THAT before," Charley sighs bitterly. "Guess I better keep the garage open overtime."
With the contest drawing nigh, Limburger, decked out in football regalia, gives the Loogeys a pep talk in Karbunkle's lab. He motions toward a blackboard covered in complicated plays and explains, "Gentlemen, the game plan is as follows: prepare to polish off those pestifilous Biker Mice and PULVERIZE Quigley Field in the process. And now, since too much of a bad thing is never enough, allow me to introduce the reinforcements. Ringers, as it were."
Karbunkle draws back a curtain and announces, "Evil Eye Weevil and his cretinous compatriots, the Pukes of Hazard!"
Yup, it's a regular season one reunion! The purple ego and his stooges are back and ready to whoop heinie!
"With their assistance," Limburger continues, "Quigley Field and the Biker Mice are as good as flattened!
Natch, cue villainous laughter.
"Is this thing on? Oh, cool!"
Fred the Mutant's voice booms over Quigley Field, which has become a muddy dirt track in preparation for the race, complete with ramps, wooden walls, and short hills. The stands are empty, but numerous motion-sensitive cameras have been set up all over the grounds to capture the action. Whether the scheme to destroy Quigley and the mice works or not, Limburger's going to make a killing in the pay-per-view department.
"Okay! And to all you race fans safely at home, welcome to the Motorcross Champ of the Galaxy contest! The contestants have taken the field, and--ooh, what a handsome group they are! On the inside track are those self-proclaimed 'Scums of the Universe,' those pungently fun fellas, the Loooooogey Brothers!"
Hacka and Honka flex for the nonexistent crowd.
"Evil Eye Weevil and his Pukes of Hazard!"
Evil Eye primps.
"Thank you, thank you very much. Ohhhh yeah! How's my crowning glory?"
He runs a comb through his hair--and accidentally pulls it right off his head! But hey, that's what assistants are for. The bespectacled Puke pulls out a hammer and nail and promises to fix the situation post haste.
"There's that hometown trio with the unusual name, the Biker Mice from Mars!"
"RIDE FREE, CITIZENS!" the mice shout, pumping their fists in the air.
"Oooh, this promises to be a combustible race!" Fred laughs in the box. He notices a string on his finger and pauses momentarily for a commercial. As the mutant zips off, Charley enters, disguised as a cleaning man with a mustache. When are the mice gonna learn you just can't keep this woman from joining in? She tears off the fake soup strainer and winces. "Owww! How do those mice stand their whiskers?" she wonders.
A thumping sound from the box's closet draws her attention. Charley opens the door and finds the usual cleaning guy tied up inside.
"Stosh!" Charley cries, pulling the tape off his mouth. "What happened?"
"'Twas some greasy galloot, clonked me on top of me noggin'," he replies in a thick Irish brogue. "And look! That handsome lad was with him!"
Through a skylight, we see Fred stringing explosives all over the place. Now we know what the string was for.
"Come on, Stosh!" the mechanic shouts, grabbing his wrist. "He's gonna blow up the stadium!"
They disappear just as Fred returns. He accidentally (?) tangles himself in the microphone cord and gives himself a powerful shock.
"Oh, hi, welcome back," he says quickly. "And just in time! There's the flag!"
On the track, Greasepit waves a pair of checkered banners over his head.
"Why don't I ever gets to have no fun?" he moans. "I'm tired of always getting' ordered around! 'Wave the flag! Start the race! Don't pick ya nose'! I coulda been a contender!"
With that, the goon drops the flags, and is immediately run over by all seven riders.
"STELLA!!!" Greasepit groans.
Vinnie takes an early lead. When the redheaded Puke comes up beside him, intent on blasting the white-furred mouse with a cannon, Vinnie pops a boot into his opponent's exhaust pipe. A second later, the dune buggy blows up, and the Puke goes flying into the stands.
"All right! Kickin' out the toe jams!" Vinnie laughs.
"Let's how all of Chi-town how it's done, Vin-man!" Throttle calls out as he and Modo ride up beside their bro.
Limburger watches the spectacle from the safety of a private box.
"With those loathsome Loogeys and that egomaniac Evil Eye Weevil in attendance, this stadium's legitimate destruction is virtually assured. However, succeeding in business requires forethought and underhandedness. So just to make doubly sure those vapid vermin do their fair albeit unwitting part in the destroying the stadium AND themselves…"
He puts down his binoculars and glances overhead, where Karbunkle is loading a sinister looking dart into a rifle.
"One dose of my Berserker Fluid will turn those racing rodents into raging maniacs!" Karbunkle cries (would the change be noticeable in Vinnie?).
Below, Throttle shouts, "Let's rock--"
"--and rabidly rampage," the scientist giggles.
"Not so fast, Doctor Demented!" Charley says from behind. She kicks Karbunkle in the back. The rifle is knocked from his hand, and all three darts are fired. They richochet wildly around the room before Stosh deflects them with a trash can--straight at Karbunkle's rear end. The mad scientist jumps up in pain, breaking a vial of mobility juice in the process.
Down in the box, Limburger watches for signs of change in the mice.
"What is taking that confounded Karbunkle so long?" he wonders.
Just then, Karbunkle falls from his perch and lands in Limburger's champagne bucket.
"What? What are you doing?" the Plutarkian demands.
Karbunkle rises slowly, foam dripping from his lips.
"Cease your salivating, you sniveling sycophant!" Limburger orders.
Suddenly, Karbunkle leaps up, knocks the binoculars from Limburger's hand, and begins attacking him like a wild dog! He bites, rips, and tears at anything he can get his hands on. Limburger tries to flee, but can't escape the confines of his box.
Charley smiles as she watches overhead.
"All right! Shredded stink-face!" she laughs.
"Dratted kids! Always spillin' their soda pop everywhere!" Stosh snaps from behind. Charley turns and watches as he starts to mop up the mess made by Karbunkle's sudden exit. Suddenly, though, his mop comes to life, sprouts limbs a la "The Sorcerer's Apprentice," and begins tidying up the box itself! For a moment, Charley is as puzzled as Stosh. Then she recognizes the yellowish liquid on the floor as the Mobility Juice the guys had told her about earlier. She picks up an unbroken vial and smiles.
"This gives me an idea."
This episode just has not been kind to Limburger's wardrobe. One suit destroyed by the explosion in his limo, and now, Karbunkle has torn another to shreds! The Plutarkian will be lucky if that's the damage he has to deal with, because his (really) mad scientist is still on the rampage! Limburger tries to force him back with a table, and Karbunkle chews it into splinters! Finally, when the box's door handle breaks off in his hand ("How quaint"), the Plutarkian simply smashes through the glass and runs, Karbunkle hot on his heals.
Wasn't there a race going on? Oh yeah! Vinnie is still in the lead, despite heavy missile fire from all sides (well, we can assume that Throttle and Modo aren't firing on him. Probably). He shoots up a ramp and flips three times before landing.
"Still better than the best!" he crows.
Suddenly, the Loogeys pin him on both sides.
"You are good, mouse--" Hacka says.
"--but we are best--" Honka declares.
"--and best is better!"
The three of them blast off into the sky together. The Loogeys try to blast Vinnie with their stench rays again, but he jumps off his bike out of the way. Their shots blast each other instead, totaling their rides and covering them in ash as they fall. Throttle and Modo watch from below as they fall.
"Here come the toilet bowl twins," Throttle says.
He and Modo pull out a pair of grenades and toss them on the ground--precisely where the Loogeys land a second later.
"Uh oh, Honka."
"You said it, Hacka."
B-KOOM!
The Loogeys are blown sky-high and out of sight.
"Whoo! This is bang-up action, fans!" Fred laughs. "Evil Eye is gaining ground!"
Vinnie turns and looks back at Throttle and Modo, who are trailing behind.
"Almost over, bros! And--surprise, surprise!--looks who's in the lead!"
Suddenly, Evil Eye passes on a dirt embankment.
"It ain't over until the fat Elvis sings! Oh yeeeeeeeeeeeah!" he coos.
The…damn, I'm not sure what Evil Eye is…jumps and fires his hostility ray at Vinnie. But before it can connect, Evil Eye crashes into a large metal post. He groans and slides down to the ground, body crumbling into pieces as he does. The Biker Mice blow past him.
"That freak needs a week in traffic school!" Throttle laughs.
Modo grimaces.
"Yeah, well, speakin' of schools, we're about to get a lesson on humility…"
He points, and we see Vinnie shooting ahead of them. He breaks the tape at the finish line, arms held over his head in triumph.
"We have a winner," Fred sighs sadly before Charley and Stosh jerk him out of his chair.
"AHHHAAAAAAAAAHAAAAH!" Vinnie crows. "Erect a statue! Secure a hall of fame! Give me a girl to kiss!"
His bros watch from behind, severely less thrilled about the outcome.
"He won," Modo grumbles.
"Yeah," Throttle agrees, propping his head on his handlebars. "Oh well. At least we know what the main topic of conversation is gonna be for the next six months."
In all this time, Limburger hasn't been able to get away from the rabid Karbunkle, who is currently clamped to the Plutarkian's boxers. The terrified fish dives into his limo, which is waiting outside. There, he continues to wrestle with Karbunkle.
"We have to get out of here!" Limburger shouts, pushing Karbunkle's head into the seat.
Just then, he notices that Fred has been bound and gagged in the front seat, and that the entire limo is filled with dynamite. Charley and Stosh have been busy, to say the least. Limburger hears a thump as Modo throws Evil Eye and the Pukes of Hazard into the trunk and closes the lid.
"Hey, cheese face?" Charley calls from outside. "Hold this."
She throws a vial of Mobility Juice into the car, which Limburger catches as the mice drive away. He looks around, wondering what could possibly happen next, when he hears the Loogeys screaming as they fall toward the ground.
"How sickeningly apropos," he sighs.
The Loogeys land squarely on top of the car. A second later, a detonator goes off, and the whole mess is blown straight back to Limburger Tower. They strike the roof, making a huge crater. Limburger lands on the top of the pile, where he--rather luckily--has been able to catch the vial of Mobility Juice in his open palms. The very second he breathes a sigh of relief, though, Fred pops up and knocks it out of his boss's hand. The vial falls and shatters on the ground.
"Not that!" Limburger moans.
Before I even try to describe the next part, just let me say that it's much more effective as visuals than words. The Tower quickly comes to life, with its windows becoming giagantic eyes and its doorway a mouth, and sprouting limbs. It smells the stinky mess on its head, wretches, then tears itself out of its foundation and sprints down the street to Lake Michigan, where it dives in to relieve itself of the smell. It's the sole time the Tower destroys itself.
The mice watch from the shore. Charley sits behind Vinnie, holding his trophy.
"AOOOW!" the white-furred mouse laughs. "Chilli dog time, bros! My treat!"
"Man, good thing you scored the prize instead of the Loogeys!" Throttle comments.
"Yeah, you know what eatin' chilli dogs does to them," Modo laughs.
With a hearty cry of "RIDE FREE CITIZENS!", our heroes zip off to enjoy their hard-earned meal.
In the lake, a smoky brown bubble rises to the surface and bursts, releasing the potent stench of three Plutarkians.
"How disgusting!" Limburger groans.
(duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh!)
MY THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE
If you can get past the title (see above), "Motorcross Trap" is a little gem of an episode. It's got a unique charm in that the story grows out of the cast, not Limburger's latest insidious scheme. Granted, the sudden interest everyone has in motorcross is a little too quick to slip under the viewer's radar, but the rest of the episode is a good overall. Given that this is, to the best of my knowledge, Ben Mattlin's first script for the series, it's very well-written (hell, it'd be well-written even if it wasn't), peppered with subtle jokes and good representations of all the characters (although I wouldn't say we get much in the way of character development). The reference to Chicago's slightly unsavory voting record in the opening scene caught me by surprise (how often do you see something like this in an American animated series?), but in a good way, the race at the heart of the episode is well-balanced with the action going on around it (Charley's sabotage, and Limburger and Karbunkle's attempts at the same), and the destruction of Limburger Tower is one of the most inventive in the entire series.
The only major problem I have with the writing is that it skirts one of the issues at the heart of the episode. Ready? Okay, Limburger is getting ready to gut Quigley Field. Quigley Field is the mice's home. BUT NOBODY EVER EVEN BRINGS IT UP! Heck, in the middle of the episode, the mice are sitting IN THE SCOREBOARD, discussing it with Charley, and it never comes up in their conversation?! I guess you could attribute it to the mice's confidence that they're going to pulp Limburger's team in the race, but all the same, this is a legitimate concern that should've been brought up. I guess Mattlin just wanted to stay focused on Vinnie's concerns about his title, so it's understandable, but it doesn't make sense. This one definitely goes in the "Bloopers" section.
I had one small problem with the race itself (which, like I said earlier, could've been really hokey): we didn't really get to see the mice competing with each other. Granted, given that they know it's a trap, and that winning the race is a secondary concern to saving the stadium, we shouldn't expect to see Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo seriously racing one another for what's essentially a worthless title ("But," asked the pale poet between sips of emerald absinthe, "aren't they all?"). But…I kinda sorta wanted to see that. Vinnie still probably would've won, of course. I mean, which of the mice would you expect to whip ass at motorcross, given their various talents? And whose bike was obviously made for racing? I rest my case. Oh well. At least Vinnie's little speech at the end of the race is funny.
I was really glad to see the Loogeys, Evil Eye, and the Pukes again. Almost all the Season One villains are thawed out and put into action again during this second run of episodes, but I was doubly glad that these five were brought back, and that we saw them acting in character (and with their original voice actors). Sure, Tunnel Rat had an interesting motif, and 'Lectromag was probably the most powerful antagonist Limburger called in early on, but the Loogeys, Evil Eye & Co. were the ones with real character. You can't forget these guys. They're goofy as all get out, and they're a lot of fun to watch.
That said, I think that putting them all together in the same episode was a mistake. It's not that their characters didn't mesh well (although there wasn't any interaction between them that I could see)-it's just that it overloaded the show with bad guys, which meant that somebody was going to be underused. So in "Motorcross Trap," Evil Eye and the Pukes function as little more than quick cannon fodder, reduced to the level of goons for the duration of the episode. Don't get me wrong-I enjoyed the little pre-race scuffle with the mice, and it would've been hard to use EE and the Pukes without rehashing the whole "hostility ray" thing again. But given that, it probably would've made more sense to use the Loogeys alone, and have the two of them competing for a longer period with the mice (ironically, Karbunkle coming up with two inventions during the space of the show-Mobility Juice and Berserker Fluid-doesn't weigh things down a bit).
Last but not least, as far as the production values go, everything in the episode was about average (which means better than the average American cartoon so there Nascar frickin' Racers), although the animation was slightly sub par. And I'm still wondering why Stosh, who originally had sort of an old-timer voice (back in "The Reeking Reign of Head Cheese Part One"), suddenly developed an Irish accent. It's a little wonky.
Long story short: don't judge a book by its cover. "Motorcross Trap" is terrific, in spite of or maybe because of what it could have been.
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