According to all known laws
of aviation,
:
there is no way a bee
should be able to fly.
:
Its wings are too small to get
its fat little body off the ground.
:
The bee, of course, flies anyway
:
because bees don't care
what humans think is impossible.
BARRY BENSON:
(Barry is picking out a shirt)
Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
:
Ooh, black and yellow!
Let's shake it up a little.
JANET BENSON:
Barry! Breakfast is ready!
BARRY:
Coming!
:
Hang on a second.
(Barry uses his antenna like a phone)
:
Hello?
ADAM FLAYMAN:
(Through phone)
Barry?
BARRY:
Adam?
ADAM:
Can you believe this is happening?
BARRY:
I can't. I'll pick you up.
(Barry flies down the stairs)
:
MARTIN BENSON:
Looking sharp.
JANET:
Use the stairs. Your father
paid good money for those.
BARRY:
Sorry. I'm excited.
MARTIN:
Here's the graduate.
We're very proud of you, son.
:
A perfect report card, all B's.
JANET:
Very proud.
(Rubs Barry's hair)
BARRY=
Ma! I got a thing going here.
JANET:
You got lint on your fuzz.
BARRY:
Ow! That's me!