This is a transcribed copy of London, We Have a Problem.
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Previous: "Doggy Da Vinci" Next: "It's My Party"

Hunter: (looking through binoculars) So... this is where they all live... Dalmatian Street. (chuckle) Duh. Now, go on, Cuddles, and check it out.

(Dylan nervously eyes mail slot, calendar with last day circled, clock, and furniture/he whimpers, pants, and slowly wags tail)

Dolly: (drops in next to him) Don't tell me. Today's the day.

Dylan: My new space helmet arrives! Only... the postman's 4.2 minutes behind schedule!

Dolly: Oh, wow, way to dial up the dork.

Dylan: Oh, I plan to. (chuckle) And guess what. Mum says I get to do it all day!

Dolly: Aren't you gonna help with pup care?

Dylan: Nope! Astro-dog training!

Dolly: (sigh) (soft) This is just so... (loud) not fair!

(Cuddles, who is not at their door, struggles to get in/he puts paw on pad/pad rejects him/Cuddles is sprayed with water/he meows)

(Postman walks up to door, whistling)

Dylan: What was that? (doorbell ring/gasp/sparkly eyes) It's the postman! (runs awkwardly to door)

Deepak: Ooh! I hope it's my new Guru Miaow stress balls!

(Dmitris show up one-by-one and laugh at him)

(Dylan opens door)

Dmitris: Postman! Postman!

Dylan: Dyahh! Dmitri 1, let go of the nice postman's leg! (they are seen attacking postman, who is whimpering and trying to get them off) You too, Dmitri 2! Dmitri 3, we've been over this!

Dmitris: Aw!

(door is still wide open/puppies run out)

Puppies: Postman! Postman! Postman! (giggles) Postmaaaaan!

(they knock postman over/his package for Dylan flies to doorway/Dylan is excited/puppies bark in the background)

Postman: (exasperated moan as he finally gets up) I so gotta get a new route!

(Dylan shrieks/puppies run back in and Dylan protects his package)

Dylan: (tears apart package with his teeth) Finally! (we see his warped reflections on helmet/he regains sparkly eyes) My Dogstar 3000! Oh, it's even shinier than I expected!

(He puts helmet on/in Dylan's imagination, we see outer space/dramatic music plays)

Dylan: And so it begins, the mission...

(Mars reflects on his helmet)

Dylan: be first dog on Mars. (zoom out to reveal that he is right in front of Mars) Astro-dog training log, do I.

(music stops/record scratch)

Dolly: (on top of his head) Not so fast!

(back to reality)

Dylan: What?

Dolly: (sigh) At least help with roll-call end.

Dylan: No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

Dolly: (sing-song) Breakfast!

Puppies: (running out) Breakfast! Breakfast! Breakfast! Breakfast!

Dylan: No, no, no! (screaming)

(Pups run Dylan over, knocking off his new helmet)

Dolly: (sing-song) You're welcome!

Dylan: Dizzy, Dee Dee, Dante, 94, 95, 96. (grunts) Oh, no! I think we lost one!

Dolly: Bro, you always think that, but then--

(Dorothy grunts and bites Dylan's tail, obscured by camera)

Dylan: D'ow! Dorothy. (chuckles)

(Dorothy giggles)

Dolly: Right on cue.

Dylan: Phew. Ran out of chew toys, huh? (chuckles/he tickles her with his nose, and she giggles some more)

(chew toys burst doors open on second story/they all fall down stairs at once)

(Dorothy chews her way up growth chart wall)

Dylan: (at his kibble pump bowl station) Kibble pump ready?

Dolly: (laughs while walking up toward hose) Okay, Dawkins. Let's do this.

(Dawkins plays A flat Major chord, 2nd inversion on accordion by pressing single E2 key)

Dylan: Stand by...

(more indistinguishable notes pour out as kibble is sent down hose)

(background behind Dolly and Dylan turns blue with action stars for effect)

Dylan: Incoming!

(Dylan shoots up bowls, and Dolly aims kibble into them)

(bowls land on floor right in front of the hungry pups, and their moist kibble stains the carpet)

Dolly: (flips) Wa-hoooo-hooo-hoooo! (high-fives Dylan with her paw)

(we hear random pups devouring their food in the back)

Doug: Nice shot! (sparkly eyes) I might die of pride...

Delilah: Maybe wait until after your shift.

(during her line, we see Dylan and Dolly eating, and they perk up in despair as they hear Delilah's words)

Dylan: Shift?! But it's the weekend!

Delilah: Doctor Dave got beaten up at Boxercise.

Doug: And half the crew have flu.

Dylan: But what about astro-dog training? (he puts his helmet on and gains sad sparkly eyes)

Well, son, it's kinda-- maybe--

Delilah: Just say it, sweets.

Sorta, well, definitely looks like it's--

Dolly: (chuckle) Cancelled!

Doug: How about a... consolation hug?

Delilah: Try not to lose anyone!

Doug: Bye!

Dylan: No-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!

Destiny: I'm hungry.

Dallas: I want a paw-dicure!

Déjà Vu: Dorothy bit my tail.

Puppies: Dylan! (x6)

Dylan: Gimme a little... space! (walks outside)

Hunter: Hey! Sick helmet!

Dylan: (looks around/barks, "Huh?")

Hunter: That's a serious piece of kit! (knocks on it twice/Dylan smiles)

Dylan: (barks, "That's right!")

Hunter: But dude... Where's your human at?

Dylan: Oh, I'm in charge

Hunter: Ohhhh. You're in charge?

He understands dog? (indistinct barking as yapping puppies fall on top of him)

(Hunter gives a devious look/he switched back to innocent look as a puppy flips up Dylan's helmet)

Hunter: Yeah, I need a little space too sometimes. Totally feel ya.

Dylan: (barks/pup grabs his ear and pulls on it) Ah-ow! Hey, ow!

Hunter: Hey! Wanna hang out and talk... space?

(Dylan emits a prolonged bark in awe/he gets sparkly eyes and smiles wide)

Hunter: (claps) I knew we were into the same stuff!

Puppy: (from above) Cannonball!

(puppies fall onto Dylan)

Dylan: Augh! Not now!

Puppies: (happily jumping from roof) Ball! (x8)

(Dorothy lands on top, giggling)

Hunter: Have to deal with the fam, huh?

Dylan: (with helmet flipped back down, barks, "Well, yes.")

Hunter: Cool. (holds out fist for Dylan to bump) The name's Hunter.

(Dylan struggles to bump back and flails onto the ground)

Hunter: I'm on the top floor. (he points to tall, dark-looking building, which camera lingers on for a few seconds as the music changes to indicate danger) (music changes back) By the way, did you know this thing has a noise cancellation feature? (presses button)

(Dylan sighs of relief/we hear Darth Vader-esque breathing/in Dylan's imagination, we see Mars again)

(back to reality, gross-looking puppy rubs his face on helmet and drags mucus on it)

Hunter: (makes Shaka sign) Check ya later. (walks off)

Dylan: (tries to make Shaka sign with his paw) (grunts and looks proud)

More coming soon...

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