Neon Joe, Werewolf Hunter

Previously on "Neon Joe, Werewolf He-yump"...

You stole my ex-wife and left her for dead!

Joe, don't leave me!

Joe, you're under arrest for the murder of Plaid Jeff.

We find Neon Joe...

guilty of first-degree murder.

The Court recognizes Elon Musk-type

billionaire inventor Vance Dontay.

I'd like to house Neon Joe for free in my private prison.

You got to call him "Big Lair." The last guy to call him

"Big Larry" was never heard from again.

You're trying to get me to convert to Judaism

so you can murder me for being a Hebrew.

The more I study the Torah,

the more I knew that it's the non-Jews

who should all die!

Yuri keeps asking where you keep the hearts

of the werewolves you killed.

Werewolf need his heart to get to the other side.

You help me bust out of here,

I'll get you the eternal rest you crave.

You just did me a solid, and you let me know

if ever I can return that favor.

He'yow!

Say, uh, how'd you know to be outside that prison anyway?

Ah, a little birdie told me, be there midnight on the nose

with a bucket of water, some bleach, and a ride.

I told you,

you ever needed a favor, I'd be there.

Well, whatever the case, let's get down

to the business at hand. Mmm.

Yeah, I've been all around this great land of ours.

I know the rules of the road.

And I know them well.

Rules?

Well, yeah, you...

you give me a ride, I give you a hand-job.

No. No hand-job necessary, friend, no.

You saved my skin with your long bass playing.

I owed you one.

You ain't turning it down

'cause I murdered Plaid Jeff, right?

No. 'Cause I was framed.

Yeah, it's not really my place to judge, you know.

Way I figure it, you take a man's life,

you probably had a pretty good reason to do it,

even when you can't really remember

what the reason was.

Hyah.

Hey!

I got you a change of clothes in the back seat.

Oh, yeah? Yeah.

Oh, he-yump. Look at that!

You got me neon.

Yes, I did.

Neon Joe.

Hyah!

Before Big Lair was killed, he sent an edict

that all members of the gang must convert to Judaism.

I changed Pepe the Frog into a rabbi.

And I got my swastika tattoo turned into a Star of David.

The Torah says mutilating the body is an insult to God.

I don't care. We should change our name

from the White Warlocks to the White Jewlocks.

We'll get to all that.

But I called this minion so we could go about

revenging Big Lair's death.

Should maybe we forgive Neon Joe?

The Torah says we must take an eye for an eye.

You mean an oy for an oy.

There's an old Jewish law forbid us from holding grudges

or seeking of revenge.

But does not it also say, "He who sheds man's blood,

by man shall this blood be shed"?

I say to hell with forgiveness!

Let's kill Neon Joe and leave a nice, long trail of goy blood.

And then repent for the whole thing on Yom Kippur!

- Yeah! - Yeah!

Let's get that goyim!

Oy, oy! Get that goy!

Oy, oy! Get that goy!

Oy, oy! Get that goy!

With Big Lair dead,

I bet anything the White Warlocks

are after Neon Joe, too.

We need to get to him before they do.

Seems they're no longer called the White Warlocks.

What are they called?

The Chosen Oy Vey Matzo Ball Gang.

Sons of bitches converted.

Well, that's about as far as I can take you.

Well, I do appreciate all your help, Joshy.

Yeah.

Sure I can't give you that hand-job?

Yeah.

Look, this ought to be enough

to get you to your final destination.

Well, Mama was right.

Them long bass lessons did pay off some day.

Yeah.

I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you, though.

Well, friend...

you already did.

He-yump.

Well, he-yump.

He-yow!

Hey, cowboy, nice outfit. You need a ride?

Appreciate that.

Name's Neon Joe.

I'm Frank.

Frank, why don't I, uh, get us some road snacks.

That would be great.

All right, he-yump.

I prefer Twizzlers.

What the hell you doing here?

Just because you don't see me doesn't mean I'm not around.

So you've been with me the whole time?

Yeah. Where's my heart?

I'm on my way to get it. Oh, really?

'Cause it seems like you're more interested in getting snacks

and giving hand-jobs. Hey, you know what?

I can't get your heart if I don't get a ride.

And I can't get a ride unless I give a hand-job.

It's the rules of the road.

Seems like you are the only one who knows this rule.

So I's just supposed to pretend it don't exist?

Society got rules.

We don't follow 'em, society crumble.

Everything okay over there?

Uh...

Yeah, man.

Yeah, it cool. I just...

Just getting some snacks.

Probably look like I was talking to myself back there, right?

No, I just talking to my tummy.

See, watch. Hey, tummy, you okay?

What that, tum-tum?

No, you can't have a soda.

You got to have a juice. You got to drink healthy.

Tummy, shut up!

Sometimes I got to get stern with my... my tummy.

Spare the rod, spoil the tum-tum.

I never met a neon cowboy before.

Do you ever worry about your horse

running away from you?

Come on, Frank.

We both know you didn't give me a ride to talk about my horse.

You're right. I do have ulterior motives.

Don't we all?

One hand-job coming up.

I want to talk about my horse.

Oh.

I'm having a little trouble training her.

Sometimes it seems like she doesn't want

anything to do with me.

Huh.

Well, that sound to me like maybe she don't trust you.

Can't say I blame her, though,

if you hold the reins like you hold that wheel.

What's wrong with how I hold the wheel?

Well, you grip too tight.

Makes for a jerky ride.

Want to be loose and giving, but in control.

Let me show you. Let's loosen that belt, huh?

Rules of the road, huh?

You want your heart or not?

Uh... I just talking to my tum-tum.

Yeah, when my tummy get hungry,

I got to, like, talk it down and, you know...

Where are them snacks at?

You seen this guy?

You just missed him.

He left with this horse pervert in a black CRV.

Thanks.

Hey, help yourself to some snacks...

on the house.

I'm one of you.

No, you're not. Nazi scum!

All right, he couldn't have got that far.

Let's get that Neon goy.

I have been with...

a lot of horses.

You know, but, ooh.

None of them compare to Carol.

She is just luxurious, if you know what I mean.

I want our relationship to be more than physical,

but I don't think that she does.

Maybe this is all it could ever be.

Yeah, how about we give all the horse talk a break?

Sure.

I'm getting tired anyway.

Oh, there's a motel.

Oh, great.

Yeah, we check in, I give you a hand-job,

morning, we go our separate ways.

I just need to get some sleep.

You can stop offering me hand-jobs.

All right, suit yourself.

Guess I'll start calling this hand Benjamin Franklin,

'cause a hand-job saved is a hand-job earned.