Col. Hunter Gathers quotes from The Venture Bros.

This place has gone to hell in a ham sandwich since they eighty-sixed the dress code.

Brando's got us on our bellies and he's reaching for the butter!

Brock

You Colonel Gathers?

(sounding like Hunter S. Thompson) What! Oh no you don't! (tackles Brock and sits on his chest, holding a knife to his throat) What do you want from me? Who sent you, you bastard?

Brock

Personnel! Special Agent-in-Training Brock Samson reporting for duty.

Don't you salute me, you bastard! (stabs Brock's hand with a knife)

Brock

Ow!

Leave that Little John-John crap back in Biloxi.

Brock

Yes sir!

And don't sir me, damn you! You're not in the Marines anymore. This is intelligence. Start using it.

Brock

Okay, Colonel... uuh...

Call me Hunter. Now let me get a good look at you. Good god! They're making 'em big now a days. Don't they know there's a gas crunch on?. Look at the size of you. (reads file) Samson, Brock. Born Omaha, Nebraska to a single mother. Half Swedish, quarter Polish, quarter Winnebago. You lost your virginity at fourteen, have one brother and you enjoy Motocross. (burns file with cigarette) The Brock Samson you knew and were is dead. Happy birthday, Frankenstein! You're O.S.I.'s baby now. Are you prepared to do whatever your country asks of you?

Brock

Yes.

Can you keep your head about you when you're confronted with mind-blowing weirdness at every turn?

Brock

Yes!

Are you ready for anything?

Brock

Yes!

(pause) Are you still ready for anything?

Brock

Yes!

Wrong! (smashes Brock across the knee with a metal pole) Lesson number one: trust no one. Minute God crapped out the third caveman, a conspiracy was hatched against one of them. Get up, damn you! (throws Brock a jetpack) Strap 'er on kid, your training starts now. When I'm through with you, you'll be a member of the elite agency that's been thanklessly defending this big-ass country since the second American Revolution.... the invisible one. Welcome to the Office of Secret Intelligence, Samson!

Brock

(sigh) When do we get to do somethin'?

Stakeouts are 80% of the job, boyo. (Brock touches his fake moustache) Don't pull at that! A convincing cover is the other 20%.

Brock

(sigh) So. No women, no children —

No women, no children. Them's rules. Separates us from the baddies.

Brock

But what if she's an enemy agent?

Uh-uh.

Brock

An assassin?

No.

Brock

A double-agent assassin who just killed the President.

No sir. Non-lethal takedown only. President's not the president anyway, you know that.

Brock

Oh. Hey, how about, you know, uh... a lady Dracula?

You mean, le vampyr? Nosferatu?

Brock

Guess.

Undead. Not technically a woman in that regard, so you got no beef there. Also, fictitious. (Brock lifts a baguette to his mouth) Do not eat that, it's C4!

You see, Brock Samson, we're all one. We all share the same need for shelter, warmth, fulfillment. The secret of happiness lies not in conquest, but in empathy.

Brock

Wooooaaah. Better dolphin!

Samson!!

Brock

Hunter?!

What is all this namby-pamby feel bad about good wet work bullshit?! You're beyond good and evil, Superman! You work for the government.

Brock

What about uhhh, humanity and empathy and all that garbage?

Who cares? You're going to special ops heaven.

Brock

Really?

Really! And it's god damned great! [He flies upwards, clutching Brock to him] The G-Man Valhalla! There's trim and guns everywhere. And we eat steak flavored clouds and poop secrets!

Brock

[Hugging one of Hunter's gigantic Breasts] But you're not even dead. You're a woman!

And you're a tool, boy, a tool! Built for a single purpose by the United States of shut your third god damned eye for a good fucking reason! You can't teach a hammer to love nails, son. That dog don't hunt!

Brock

DON'T! HUNT!

...You saw what he said, he’s not in the Guild of Calamitous Intent. It’s like a businessman’s club or something.

That’s what they said about the Bilderberg Group, son… and then whammo! Berlin Wall comes tumbling down.

No it hasn’t.

Oh, it will, kiddo. It was decided at the last meeting.

Oh, and Hunter, Wayland Flowers called, and he wants his Madam back. BOOM!

Yeah? Well, the Village People called, AND THEY WANT YOU TO GO FUCKING KILL YOURSELF, YOU PRANCING BASTARD!

Brock

Cow's on my side. That's 6 - 2 me.

Monster! I'll catch you yet. [yelling out the window] Show yourselves, you cowards!! This is the farm belt, let's see some action on this side!!

Brock

Cow's on my side. 7 - 2.

Unconscionable bastard!!

Brock

Oh, oh! [pointing out Hunter's window] Cemetery! You lose all your cows!!

[pulls the car over] Damnit, this side's cursed! Your turn to drive, you lurid golem!

Brock

Just keep it up, Billy. We're getting some excellent intel out of you!

What intel? I've been here a day! I haven't done any spying yet!

Sure you have! That new eye of yours? It's actually a 3-D laser-matrix holographic camera! (indicating Billy's mechanical hand) And this little pud puller stores all the data!

You guys wired me?

Are you kidding? Why, you're a walking wire! And right now, you need to walk back in there and do you God-given duty! There are no free hands in this business, son!

But that's cheating!

Cheating is what the spy business is all about, boychik. Why, if we don't keep our eyes on our neighbor's paper, the baddies get the bomb and the whole world goes kablooie! You keep thinking you're here on the G.I. Bill or something, kid? YOU ARE NOT HERE TO WRITE ESSAYS! You're not even in college! You are in the Office of Secret Intelligence, you damn, dirty, crybaby FREAK!

Congratulations lad, you’re a fully matriculated student at State University.

I kinda wanted to go to MIT

[Rips open his shirt] And I wanted to be born with big, beautiful TITS! [to Brock] Make some lemonade with this, will you?

Brock

(to Doc) I'll only be a minute. Will you just wait out in the X-1 with the boys?

You came in the plane? You call parking a supersonic jet in front of a titty-bar inconspicuous?! Who taught you to be a spy, fucking Gallagher!?!

Brock

I'm gonna need some wheels.

(climbing onto the table and thrusting his crotch in Brock's face) You can take mine. But you are not gonna like looking for the keys!

Damn it Shore Leave, you’ve ruined another outfit. Think Betsy Ross works here? I’m the one who has to sew this back together, you clown.

What are you laughing at, Mr. Blood stains on everything?

Brock

You know that he rips those himself. He just tears it off like a Chippendales firemen, every time.

Good god, why?

For one, because it looks super-cool.

You’re an infant.

No way! A thousand times no! I’m not letting those clowns shrink my 40 million dollar secretly funded nuclear submarine to go fight the fucking cavity creeps!

Hank

Then when our dad dies, are you guys prepare to adopt us?

No, but I'm considering a extremely late-term abortion! Samson! What part of secret underground headquarters does that square-head of yours fail to grasp?!

Brock

Look, they live next door, what am I supposed to do?

Wipe their pink little minds and send them back home, like I told you!

Brock

They discover us every other week. I can’t keep doing that, its starting to make them buggy. Listen to this. Dean, what day is today?

Dean

Sagittarius

Brock

Goooooood! Now Hank, what color is my tongue?

Hank

It’s kind of... Wednesday! Like a light Wednesday.