Unless I'm a complete moron,
you've invented some sort of a...
steel banana?
It's a model rocket.
My journey of self-discovery is ending early.
You may commence bragging at any time.
There's no need to brag.
Stating the facts will be sufficient.
Do as he does, not as he says.
Does what?
As you can see,
I've equipped this model
with a state-of-the-art pico-nuclear propulsion drive,
an artificial intelligence guidance system,
and a super-hardened ceramic casing.
Yes. But can it do this?
Ya-da-da-da-da-da-la-da!
Ta-ta!
I have no further questions.
You're gonna be the envy
of every 12-year-old in the park.
It's not for the park.
It's for unmanned space exploration.
As you know, I have long held firm in my beliefs
that life in some form
must exist in other places.
My pleas for further study have gone largely unheeded.
So I've taken it upon myself
and programmed this to find any trace of life--
no matter how faint-- gather samples,
and return directly to me when it's done.
Ooh, and lookee, it has a button too.
I wish you hadn't done that.
I know where you're coming from.
It'll be okay.
As soon as it collects some samples of alien life,
it'll return directly to me.
[IN ALIEN LANGUAGE]
[BEEPING]
[MUSIC PLAYS FROM RADIO]
Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!
CROWD [GROANING]: Oh! Aw, man!
What a rip-off!
I saw that! I have evidence!
My first dying wish is to live,
but since that's not working out,
my second dying wish is to have an heir to my vast fortune.
Your wife will be my incubator.
Incu... incu...
Well, incu-whatever.
Let's get one thing straight.
It ain't free.
We want a hundred dollars...
in unmarked quarters.
The unfertilized eggs are ready for implanting
in the surrogate hillbilly.
Hey, just 'cause I take money
to make babies for other people,
that don't make me no surrogate.
Actually, it does.
That rocket poached your eggs.
I know it ain't fair to do it this way, Flossie,
but the bulls think you're... well, skanky.
It's artificial nano-machine DNA.
I have synthesized
the very building blocks of robotic life.
So you're saying the robots will be able
to independently reproduce and evolve?
Yes, I am.
[GLASS SHATTERING]
When do you expect it to return?
It depends how far it has to travel
to find samples of new life.
The only thing I know for sure
is that it will return in the end.
[SCREAMS]
[EXPLOSION]
[ELECTRICITY CRACKLING]
You know, it's lucky he has gall stones,
or this thing would've gone right through him.
Is he going to be all right?
Will he regain consciousness?
And don't assume that because I'm his mother
I want a certain answer.
Lab guy says the rocket was covered
with a mixture of genetic material
including alien, bovine, nano-robotic,
hillbilly, and two dozen engineers.
In a word, he's... pregnant.
Knocked up?
I told him this would happen
if he kept playing with rockets.
You did?
I'm very thorough in my warnings.
We'll terminate the pregnancy at once, of course.
Don't try it, buster.
That's my grandson in there.
Or granddaughter.
Or grand cow...
What were the other choices again?
Alien and robot.
Whatever it is, you'd better keep it alive.
This is probably my one shot to be a grandmother,
and I'm not letting anybody get in my way.
His body can't support a baby,
unless we pump him so full of female hormones
it scrambles his gender identity permanently.
You know, if you doctors
stopped worrying so much about the patient
and started worrying more about the family,
maybe we wouldn't be in the health care mess we're in.
But it's not safe.
It's not ethical.
Oh, like you give a damn.
Come on, you know you want to do it.
Hmm. I got to admit, it would be something.
Yeah, we'll put something down on the chart.
All right. What the hell.
You'll tell him when he wakes up, won't you?
Of course.
Swear?
Okay. All right.
[LAUGHING]
Maybe in the third trimester.
My feet are like ice cubes.
Is anyone else cold?
It's exactly 72 degrees in here.
The same as it's always been,
and I might add, always will be.
Well, tell that to my feet.
Ratbert.
I'm afraid of his slippers.
You know what I feel like?
I feel like ice cream.
Does anyone want to share some dessert?
You read my mind.
Would you mind driving to the store and getting it?
I don't want to be seen buying ice cream
until I lose five pounds.
Only five?
Is that nice?
If your feet are cold,
won't ice cream make it worse?
Those are completely unrelated things.
I'll need some money.
Rats don't have money.
I'll give you a check.
A check?
It's a convenience store.
It's a $5.00 purchase.
Who writes a check for $5.00?
I give up. Forget it.
If you must pick on every little thing I do,
then I don't want any ice cream,
or cupcakes. or anything sweet and delicious.
I'll just go to my room and put on my socks.
Fine!
Tiny.
And those two...
They make me...
[GROANS]
[VOMITING]
[HUMMING TUNE]
[HUMMING CONTINUES]
Huh?
[LAUGHS]
And now the Chapstick.
[SMACKING LIPS]
Mm... SASSY!
[ALL WHISPERING]
We heard about your accident with the rocket.
Some day, you'll look back at it and laugh.
We already started.
[LAUGHING]
[COUGHING]
But seriously,
are there any aftereffects?
None that I know of.
The air is so DRY in here.
Doesn't it wreak havoc on your skin?
No. No.
Moisturizer?
No, thanks. No, thanks.
Who wants a peppermint?
Peppermint?
Moisturizer?
That's not a briefcase, it's a fricking purse!
What else do you have in that thing?
Not much.
My romance novel,
some moist towelettes
Chapstick, extra pair of socks
in case mine get a ru--
I mean, uh, ripped.
You know how socks can get ripped.
No.
I do.
You mind if I borrow those?
Keep them.
You're my witness.
And I got these at the drugstore.
They're EXCELLENT FOR ABSORBING...
spills.
Oh, my God!
I just have to try one test.
Dilbert, would you like to date me?
Not in a million years.
Yup. He's a woman.
As you know,
our older employees--
the ones with the highest salaries--
are not dying at the rate we'd hoped.
We've decided to reduce health care benefits
to speed up the NATURAL process.
Dilbert, are you listening to any of this?
Actually, yes.
I've SUDDENLY developed the ability to multitask.
An hour ago, I was talking and thinking and typing
at the same time.
Men can't multitask!
Only women can multitask!
And lately, I've started to appreciate conversations
that have no meaningful content.
Is anyone else cold?
I am.
You can borrow one of my afghans.
This is PRETTY.
Did you make it yourself?
I WISH.
As I was saying,
your NEW health maintenance organization will be...
somewhat less robust than the old one.
How much less?
They operate out of an Italian restaurant.
How can doctors work in a restaurant?
They don't HAVE doctors per se,
but IF YOU TIP THE WAITERS ENOUGH,
they'll remove your appendix
and PUT IT IN A DOGGIE BAG FOR YOU.
They also have early bird specials.
They're VERY service-oriented.
Sometimes, I go there just for the sponge baths.
What IS our maternity leave policy?
Our maternity leave policy is that if you FEEL maternal,
you should leave.
BOTH: That's discrimination against women!
Every day, this company becomes
less family-friendly.
Little by little,
you chip away at our dignity.
You COULD get a job some place else.
Wally, I'm not asking you to solve my problem.
That was a plea for empathy!
You could BUY SUPPLEMENTAL HEALTH INSURANCE.
Stop trying to solve my problems.
I'm just sharing my feelings.
Dilbert, if I wasn't so completely consumed
by my OWN problems,
I might be persuaded
to think there was something wrong with YOU.
Anyway, here's their pamphlets.
It's also a takeout menu.
They DO delivery.
And may I recommend the prostate exam marsala.
[SMACKS LIPS]
Mm.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for my appointment.
I'm having dermabrasion and tiramisu.
DILBERT: I feel DIFFERENT
since my accident with the model rocket.
Mm-hmm. Go on.
For example, I no longer love my computer.
I see it simply as a tool
for increasing my productivity.
Hmm...
This morning,
I pumped my own gas,
and I noticed for the first time
it makes my hands smell.
Ah-ha. And what do you think of performance reviews?
I hate them!
I never cared before,
but now the thought of being criticized
drives me crazy.
And do you constantly
find yourself wishing you could take a nap?
Yes!
Do you know what's wrong with me?
Yes. You've turned into a woman.
[CHUCKLES]
No, seriously.
[CHUCKLES]
I'm serious. You're a woman.
That's impossible.
Well, I can prove it.
Now...
Tell me what you're wearing.
White short-sleeve shirt, red and black necktie,
black Capri pants, white socks, and black shoes.
What does that prove?
It proves you're a woman.
A man would have to look.
Wally?
What are you wearing?
Uh... I don't know.
I'll give you a hint.
It's the same thing you wear every day.
Oh. Is it blue?
[DISGUSTED GRUNT]
[GASPS]
Asok, what clothes are you wearing?
Um... I don't know.
Possibly a parka or some sort of sweater?
Is that close?
[DISGUSTED GRUNT]
Loud Howard,
what color is your shirt?
Is it a loud color?
What's wrong with you?
Are you all brain-dead?
No, we're male.
You seem very upset.
Maybe you could take a pill for that.
Stop trying to solve my problems.
You're all so...
[GRUNTING IN DISGUST]
Do you want to hear the most ridiculous thing?
It's what I live for.
Our director of human resources thinks I'm a woman.
[CHUCKLES]
Is that funny or what?
Looks like you need bigger pants.
I don't need bigger pants.
I need smaller pants.
That way, I'll have incentive to lose weight.
[GRUNTS]
But in the meantime,
I'll have to wear something else.
Where did I put my sewing machine?
You don't own a sewing machine.
Really?
Mom,
can I borrow your sewing machine?
Mine doesn't exist.
It's in the sewing room, dear.
Did you tell him yet?
I'm waiting for the third trimester.
That's not going to work.
We have some major adjustments to make here.
I need time to ease into the grandmother thing.
And, besides, I could use a good laugh.
I hear you.
There. That should be roomy enough.
I didn't even know I could sew.
How do you like my new shirt?
I made it myself.
I wouldn't call that a shirt.
Of course, it's a shirt.
I made it extra long
so you can't tell I'm not wearing any pants.
It's an innovation.
It's a dress.
You're just jealous,
but don't be.
I'm planning to sew you one of these for your birthday.
Dilbert, I think Dogbert wants to tell you something.
Really? What?
Sit down.
Ooh!
I wasn't gonna tell you this
until the third trimester,
but I see you're coming right along there, so...
What are you talking about?
Dilbert, you know that experimental rocket
that had its way with you?
I wouldn't put it that way.
You will when we tell you what we know.
The rocket had genetic material
from a variety of sources.
A wide variety.
Quite varied.
Maybe you could name a few.
Hillbilly.
Space alien.
Robot.
Cow.
And several dozen engineers.
Wow. Do I make a good life-seeking rocket or what?
But that's not the best part.
What's the best part?
[ITALIAN ACCENT] Table for one, obviously.
I need to see a doctor,
or at least a waiter, right away.
What is your problem?
Do I have to say it
in front of the other customers?
Yes, you do.
I'm pregnant with an alien baby,
or perhaps a cow,
or a hillbilly, or a robot.
I recommend Dr. Eduardo, table four.
He handles our nut cases.
I'm not a nut.
If I were a nut,
would I be dressed like this?
Good point.
In that case, I recommend...
Dr. Eduardo, table four.
That's more like it.
[COUGHS]
My name is Eduardo.
I will be your doctor.
May I get you a beverage?
Ginger ale, please.
And what seems to be your problem?
I think I'm pregnant.
[GASPING]
Hmm.
Say "ah."
Ahhh.
I don't see anything down there.
[MUMBLING] I don't think you can see it that way.
Take off your dress.
It's a shirt!
Yes. I will be right back with your drinks.
Great.
Nothing to read but this menu,
and it's probably been handled
by a million sick people already.
We can't afford an ultrasound machine,
but our busboy, Juan, is the next best thing.
Don't move.
I will make a sound wave,
and Juan will create a picture from the sonic signature.
[SONIC PINGING]
[PINGING CONTINUES]
What's in there?!
Sweet mother of God!
Don't you think you're overreacting a little?
Gaah!
NARRATOR: Next week on DILBERT...
LOUD HOWARD: What? Dilbert's having a baby?
The baby might be an alien, or a robot, or a cow,
or a hillbilly, or an engineer.
Dime a dozen.
Do your friends think you dress too sexy?
DILBERT: Can you help me publish a book
about my pregnancy?
I need the money.
Follow me.
How much news can you afford?
Tonight, we take you to meet this curious man
in a story we call...
A Womb with a Stew.
Michael Jackson has an order in for three of them.
Join us tomorrow on Prime Line
when we begin gavel-to-gavel coverage
of the fetus custody battle of the century.
Please rise for the honorable...
[ECHOING LOUDLY] Judge Stone Cold Steve Austin!
Austin 3:16 says order in the court.
[MOANING]
It's coming!