this isn't over yet, mr. powers. i have one more trick up my sleeve, don't i mr. bigglesworth?
hello scott, i'm back.
they offered me a free makeover.
share?
ok. i have a vestigial tail.
it's more of a nub, really. the spine just goes on a little longer than it should. also, i've dabbled. i mean, perform fellatio once and you're a poet, twice and you're a homosexual. i remember once i was being fisted by sebastian cabot- but here's where the story gets interesting. he was lactose-intolerant. he could eat red meat all night long, but one sip of milk and it was gastric hell. and i remember we were caught in fragrance delicto by henry kissinger, and you can imagine my humiliation at having hank hear me say, "mr. french, no teeth." one of my greatest disappointments is that i never became a song and dance man. i could have been a quadruple threat, kind of like a despotic ken barry. dancer, singer, actor, and i would possess nuclear weapons, the latter being the most threatening of the four. i once sat on a bus and tried to will myself a menstrual cycle. all i ended up with was a sense of failure and a mild neuralgia in my incisor teeth and perhaps a grudging respect for the weaker sex. i love toe cleavage. for the most part i distrust dogs. i slept in a horse once. it was quite roomy. on second thought, it was the ritz. i named my left testicle 'piss' and my right testicle 'vinegar'. i wrote "it's raining men", or so the christmas babies told me. oh yes, i also made a marzipan voodoo effigy of the fonze while i was in coma after smoking some peruvian prayer hash, but who at the end of the day can honestly say they haven't done that?
no one talks to my boy that way!
i'm ok, i'm ok.
come scott, let's go to daddy's new evil lair.
oh good, number two, i do enjoy a good cuppa joe.
right. perhaps you've confused me with someone who gives a shit. might i remind you that i run the show here? i demand a little respect.
silence! i will not tolerate your insolence! remember what happened last time.
frau farbissina. wie gehts is einen?
how are things?
right on. welcome, unibrau.
oh, i know. i know.
welcome to my private army, oedipus. excited?
kiss your mother with that mouth?
of course you do.
i have so few pleasures left to me, number two. the key to life is to rotate your vices. one day it's executions, another day it's creamy french cheese. it's like frickin' heroin.
cool.
breathtaking. i shall call him mini- me. mini-me, you will sit to my right.
come mr. bigglesworth!
mini-me, something to eat? no?
with a white house intern!
what, that already happened?
this is ri-goddamn-diculous. oh well, how about a frickin' time machine? does the president have a time machine? have i been scooped on that?
alright, time machine it is. as you know, every diabolical scheme i've hatched has been thwarted by austin powers. and why is that, ladies and gentlemen?
no, because austin powers has "mojo".
it's what the french call a certain 'i don't know what.'
no, no, no.
why make trillions when we could make.  billions?
why think small is all i'm saying.
zip it. unveil the time portal!
ladies and gentlemen, i give you the time portal. as you know, austin powers was frozen in 1967. therefore, i time travel to 1969, two years after he was frozen. security will be lax and i'll strike when he is totally helpless.
no, scott, daddy has a score to settle. austin powers is the snake to my mongoose, or the mongoose to my snake. either way it's bad, i don't know animals. but i do know this: this time it's personal. frau, number 2, i'll see you both in 1969. come, mini-me.
ah, here we are mini-me, 1969. number two, you look very youthful and healthy. and frau you look. right.
ok, people, we now officially have a chair problem. if another one of these chairs hits me in the nuts, i'm gonna go postal. mini-me, i want you to meet number two.
mini-me?
shy. low blood sugar. gentlemen, phase two is beginning. i have an operative inside the ministry of defense. by this time tomorrow, austin powers' mojo will be mine.
ha-ha-ha! ha-ha-ha!
ha-ha-ha! ha-ha-ha!
well done, fat bastard. may i have the mojo?
right. charming. fat bastard- you don't mind me calling you fat bastard do you?
alright, fatty-
fat bastard, the mojo?
a gentlemen never discusses money.
vulgarity is no substitute for wit.
right. bring in the money.
mini-me, fetch.
this is ri-goddamn-diculous, we have his mojo.
scott, what are you doing here?
you had your chance, scott. i already have someone created in my image. he's evil, he wants to take over the world, and he fits easily into most overhead storage bins. has anyone seen mini-me? mini-me! mini-mouse? mini-driver? hello! mini pearl? can we put a frickin' bell on him or something?
gentlemen, phase three. we place a giant laser on the moon. let me demonstrate. where's my laser?
mini-me, don't chew my laser. not feeling well. he has an ear infection, but tit's ok. no? nothing? anyway, the laser is powerful enough to destroy every city on the planet at will. we'll turn the moon into what i like to call a "death star".
what?
what did you call me?
bless you? anyways, since my "death star" laser was invented by the noted cambridge physicist, dr. parsons. i thought we'd name it in his honor-- the alan parsons project.
what now?
when you get your own evil empire, you can call it whatever you want. gentlemen, allow me to demonstrate the awesome lethality of the alan parsons project. fire the laser!
actually, that was just footage from the 1996 blockbuster motion picture independence day, but it would be a lot like that. what do you think, scott?
shhhh!
shh! shh-shh. shh-shhhhhh-shh. shh- shh! it's morse code. let me decipher.  it says 'shhhhh!'
ssssss. huuuuuh. shhhhh!
fat bastard, in addition to being extremely rotund, you're a vicious killer.
it's an easy job. without his mojo, powers will be. powerless?
get me the president of the united states.
not what i want mr. president, but i will receive. in 12 hours i will destroy washington, dc with a giant laser.
ok, mini-me, why don't you and the laser get a frickin' room. honestly. i will destroy another major city every hour- that is, unless you pay me-
one hundred billion dollars!
don't play games with me. the capitol will disappear if i don't receive
one hundred billion dollars!
come on, mr. president.
"show me the money!"
"show me the money!"
you know, kwan? show me the money? no? nothing?
right. ok, see if you understand this: give me the money or i'm going to blow you to frickin' bits, ok?
talk to the hand!
i did love that, though. cuba gooding jr. was outstanding. oscar speech, very touching.
yeah, baby. very shagedelic. this isn't working. i don't feel anything.
i was just.  right. would it kill you to frickin' knock?
'what if god was one of us? just a slob like one of us?'
how tedious.
really?
right. i object to the last one on aesthetic grounds, but i don't care how you get powers, just bring him to me. ready mini-me? a one and a two and.  me, and my sha-dow strolling down
it's the volcanic sulphurous emissions. we've put up some air fresheners.
i'm just waiting to taunt my nemesis. i have so few pleasures, you know.
ah, mr. powers, ms. shagwell, welcome to my hollowed-out volcano.
yes, the only reason i'm keeping you alive is so you can feel the agony of watching my plan unfold.
oh, is that yours?
you know what they say: finders keepers, loser weepers.
of course. why?
oww! my stomach hurts!
take them away.
you're going the right way for a smacked bottom, young man.
i do actually. it's complicated. usually it's illegal but this buddy of mine.  but i digress. fat bastard, i'm leaving you in charge. i'm going up the moon to hold the world ransom with my giant laser, i shouldn't be long.
he's tucked away safely in his cell. he's harmless without that mojo. guard it with your life. number two, begin the countdown.
has anyone seen my gravity booties? honestly, all i wanted was a frickin' moon base. hello, we're on the moon, no gravity? mini-me? are you alright?
my frickin' mascot is stuck to the ceiling, ok? not good. papa not happy.
somebody get the stick. hold on, mini-me. begin laser-
 begin-
begin laser ignition sequence.
lunar alignment in 6 hours.
position the laser.
get me the president.
mr. president, your time is up. this is your last chance to pay 100 billion dollars or see washington dc destroyed.
pay me 100 billion dollars or see washington dc destroyed!
how about now?
the capital will be destroyed-
could someone shut off that frickin' alarm? i'm trying to hold the free world hostage here. honestly.
100 billion dollars!
oh well, i guess you have one minute to- "show me the money"!
then i suppose you're up shit's crick without a paddle.
aren't you forgetting something?
don't worry, she's not dead.  yet.
it looks like you have a choice, powers: save the world, or save your girlfriend.
we'll see. fire the laser!
damn you, powers!
perhaps you spoke too soon.
you make love to your wife out of duty, your mistress for pleasure, and a roman boy for ecstasy. shit.
before you do that, know this: austin, i am.  your.  father.
no. i can't back that up. i was just grasping at straws. i had nothing. but isn't it interesting, mr. powers, you really have become a product of the nineties.
you're more interested in your job as glorified policeman than you are in love. you won the battle, but i won the war. love means nothing, you've proved it.
what a cowardly response. i'm disappointed really. you have the power to go back in time and save her, but it means letting me go.
well, mr. powers, which is it going to be? me or the girl?
it looks like you have a choice: save the world, or save your girlfriend.
fire the laser!
good-bye, mr. powers, for the last time.