All language subtitles for The Flintstones (1960) - S02E08 - Flintstone of Prinstone (1080p BluRay x265 Ghost)

-[boy] Hey, mister, what's your name?
-Fred Flintstone.

-[boy] You a freshman?
-[Fred] I think so.

[boy] A freshman doesn't think, mister.

And your name isn't Flintstone.
It's Mr. Simplesoul. Got that?

Mr. Simplesoul?

-I'm an upperclassman.
-Uh, yes, sir.

From now on, Mr. Simplesoul,
carry a light, the time,

and any upperclassman's books.

And bow in the presence of an upperclassman.

Yes, sir.

What are you?

-A certified public accountant major.
-No, you're not.

Now, repeat after me.

I, sir, am a wiggly worm, sir.

-A wiggly worm, sir.
-A wiggly worm, sir.

-Wiggly worm, sir.
-Is the lowest lump of whale blubber

-in the ocean depth.
-[stammers]

And nothing is lower
than a freshman at Prinstone U.

Freshman at Prinstone U.

Sir. And don't forget it.

Sir. And don't forget it.

[Horn honking]

[theme music playing]

[whistle chirps]

[siren wailing]

[whistle chirps]

[Fred] C-A-T. Cat.

That's four points for me.

[Arnold] All right, I'll just take your cat,
and add A-C-L-Y-S-M.

[Fred] C-A-T-A-C. "Cataclysm?"

What kind of made-up word is that?

[Arnold] Cataclysm. A freak disaster.

That gives me 79 points.

-That gives you a total--
-263. I win.

-Now I better get back on my newspaper route.
-Just a minute, little wise guy.

I just put my last three letters here.

Zarf. That gives me 12 points.

"Zarf?"

Don't tell me you never heard of the word "Zarf?"

What's it mean?

Well, it don't come up in conversation too often.

Let's see.

I Zarf. Uh, you Zarf. He zarfs.

I never heard of it.

Boy, Arnold, if there's anything I can't stand,
it's a sore winner.

Cancel my newspaper subscription.

Okay. You owe me $8.76.

Look, Arnold,

how's about a game of Russian roulette? Hm?

[cackling]

[humming]

Boy, this is hot work. I'm gonna scram.

[humming]

[thuds]

Did the paper boy clobber you again?

That kid has no character.

I wouldn't be surprised if he used loaded tiddlies.

I thought this week it was Scrabble.

It was, but he kept making up words
like "esoteric" and "polopony."

Polopony?

Yeah. P-O-L-O-P-O-N-Y. Polopony.

That's "Polo pony."

Whatever it is,
he made me look like a horse's neck.

And on top of that, he wouldn't allow my word, Zarf.

-Zarf?
-I bet it's in the dictionary.

A lot of words you never heard of
are in the dictionary.

I'll get it and show you.

Okay. I'll glance at the paper.

-Find the dictionary?
-No. My old high-school annual.

Remember her?

Gina Lodabricks. Boy, was she built.

Had every brick in place.

-She used to get low marks.
-Yeah. 35, 25, and 35.

Here's her prediction.

"Gina will go to Hollyrock
and become a great movie actress."

I've seen her last three pictures,
I don't think she's a great actress.

It's too late now. She's already a star.

Let's see who this is.

Let me see, Fred.

"Frederick 'Twinkletoes' Flintstone.

Our handsome football hero

will be one of the all-time-great
college certified public accounting stars."

Fred. What happened?

I lost a little hair.

But, Fred--

Don't "But, Fred" me.
You think I'm happy the way I turned out?

You think I like having a future
you can write on a piece of confetti?

Admit it, Wilma. I'm a big fat failure.

You have been putting on a little weight.

Oh, Fred Flintstone.

What happened to your dreams?

What did happen to your dreams, Fred?

What kept you from going to college?

Only one little thing. I never got out of high school.

Why not?

I'll tell you why not.

Because I was young, and strong, and stupid.
I wanted fame.

So instead of studying, I went out for football.

Soon, I was the outstanding player
of the class of'41...

forty-two,'43,'44, and'45.

Why didn't you graduate with your class?

I was out standing in the hall
when they were graduating.

I got muscle-bound from football.

Now look at me.

Outsmarted by a 10-year-old boy.

Arnold's only eight.

He couldn't get that sneaky in eight years.

What's this? Hey, listen.

"Is your career on the rocks?
Are you a big fat failure?

Night school wants you.

Prinstone University throws wide its doors

to over 400 big fat failures each year.

Enroll this semester at Prinstone University.

Earn big money.

Have people point at you
and whisper the magic words: P.U."

Wilma, I'll do it. I'll enroll!

How does it feel being married to a schoolboy?

Oh, Fred doesn't start until this evening.

He was up all last night
studying the different courses.

Creative psychology, applied folk singing,
abstract cave painting, you know.

Aren't you jealous of all those young coeds
he'll be sitting next to?

[laughs] No. Fred will be too busy
studying figures, etcetera.

Mm. That's what he'll be studying, all right.

And those etceteras look great in sweaters.

[chuckling]

Fred? Interested in some
skinny young thing in a sweater?

[laughs, then sighs]

On the other hand, that's how I got him.

Betty, do you still have that knit leopard skin
with the plunging neckline?

So you're going to college, eh, Freddie-boy?

I'm proud of you.

It takes a smart man to know when he's stupid.

Yeah. Well, a little self-improvement
wouldn't hurt you any, Rubble.

Hey, uh, did you tell the boss
you're going to night school?

No, but he'll see the change in me.

Wilma!

Why, hello, darling. I didn't hear you come in.

[sniffing]

You aren't burning the stegosaurus again, are you?

I like my stegosaurus rare.

That smell happens to be perfume.

Mm! Yeah. Nice. [inhales]

-Sure clears the sinuses.
-Oh, boy.

[Fred] Oh, Wilma.

Did you put my name on all my schoolbooks?

No. I put an X on them so you could read it.

"I put an X on them so you could read it."

Droll. Very droll.

And what about those ever-loving coeds
sitting next to you in the tight sweaters?

Are you out of your Stone Age mind?

Who's interested in teenagers
except other teenagers?

I'm only going to night school
to get the college degree I missed

playing football in high school.

I'm sorry. You're right.

Imagine, some pretty young thing
being interested in you.

[laughing]

Me. The world's oldest teenager.

-[boy] Hey, mister, what's your name?
-Fred Flintstone.

-[boy] You a freshman?
-[Fred] I think so.

[boy] A freshman doesn't think, mister.

And your name isn't Flintstone.
It's Mr. Simplesoul. Got that?

Mr. Simplesoul?

-I'm an upperclassman.
-Yes, sir.

From now on, Mr. Simplesoul,
carry a light, the time,

and any upperclassman's books.

And bow in the presence of an upperclassman.

Yes, sir.

What are you?

-A certified public accountant major.
-No, you're not.

Now, repeat after me.

I, sir, am a wiggly worm, sir.

-A wiggly worm, sir.
-A wiggly worm, sir.

Wiggly worm, sir, is the lowest lump
of whale blubber in the ocean depth.

-In the ocean depth.
-Nothing is lower than a freshman at Prinstone U.

Freshman at Prinstone U.

Sir. And don't forget it.

Sir. And don't forget it.

[Barney] Fred, old chum, I've gotta hand it to you.

You're the only guy I know who can work all day,

go to school at night,

and still get up fresh as a daisy.

[snoring]

Fred.

Fred.

[stammering] What-- What's up?

When are you gonna tell your boss
that you're improving?

I-- I won't have to tell him.

He'll notice the change in me.

[snoring]

[snoring]

Interest equals principal rate times.

Find the interest for 60 days at 6 percent.

Move the decimal over two places.

Flintstone!

I, sir, am a wiggly worm, sir.

-A wiggly worm, sir, is lower than--
-All right.

-A simple apology is enough.
-[stammering]

Thank you, sir.

[Slate] Flintstone, I've noticed a change in you.

I've been changing, Mr. Slate.

Yes. That babbling in your sleep,
those poached eyes.

-Have you been drinking?
-No, sir.

Well, you're either looped or pooped.

-Flintstone.
-[Fred snoring]

Flintstone.

[snoring continues]

Oh, Fred. I ran into Mrs. Slate

and she said there's someone
your boss has his eye on.

Yeah. All four of them.

She said he was thinking of this someone,

-a college man, for promotion.
-Yeah.

-Do you suppose it's you?
-No.

-Why not?
-He already promoted the guy.

Right over my head.

No. What's his name?

Schuyler Van Slate.

But isn't that Mr. Slate's nephew?

Yeah, yeah. He bumped into his uncle
in the quarry one day

and his uncle took an instant liking to him.

I wouldn't be discouraged, Fred.

It's okay, Wilma. I got control of myself.

Slate ain't gonna upset me.

It's like them upperclassmen down at night school.

Soon as you let them get you mad,
you destroy yourself.

I'll just act like nothing happened,

keep going to school, improve myself,

and rise above it.

How could he do this to me? How?

[man] And so we see we can use
the formula R equals I over PT.

Or T equals I over PR.

Flintstone.

Flintstone.

I'm sorry, Mr. Slate, I didn't hear the whistle.

My name is Siltsby.

And I'm afraid you'll have to stay
after night school again, Flintstone,

and take off that beanie.

[Fred] So I figure Slate promoted his nephew
because he's a college graduate.

But as soon as he finds out I'm going to college,

I'll probably be right up there
on the board of directors.

How do you figure he'll find out?

Why, I'll walk right into his office

and say it right to his face.

And so, Mr. Slate,

with my degree in accounting,
I could be a great help in the front office.

Oh, boy.

If there were only some way I could let him find out
that I'm going to college.

-[Slate] Mister! You, mister!
-[stammering]

-Sir.
-Flintstone, does that beanie say Prinstone?

Why, Flintstone,
you're a chip off the old blocking back.

I played for Prinstone, you know?

Give me the old P.U. shake.

Hullabalee, hullabaloo,
hullagarah for the white and blue.

You for me, and me for you,
we'll stick together for Prinstone U.

So you're a Prinstone.

Well, a boy who's a Prinstone man can't be all bad.

What position are you interested in?

I'd be happy to start as a second vice president.

I don't mean that kind of position.

I mean are you going out for the line
or the backfield?

-Football?
-Certainly.

You're a little bandy-legged and stumpy,

but so was old Red Granite.

Ever play the game before?

Uh, just in the backfield
at high school for six or seven years, but--

Say no more. You'll have no trouble.

A few phone calls, and everything will be fixed.

And, say, Flintstone, you look a little peaked.

Take the rest of the afternoon off. Get in shape.

-And when you hit that line, hit it hard!
-[grunts]

[phone ringing]

Rockwell Quartz, Director of Sports speaking.

Football builds men.

Hello, Rock. This is Seymour Slate,
of the alumni association.

Who?

Seymour Slate. Prinstone,'27.

Right end. Remember me?

Oh, yeah. Butterfingers Slate.

Listen, you tell the alumni association

I'm sorry about last Saturday's game.

With a couple of breaks, we could have won.

That's what I wanna talk to you about.

You've got real talent right under your nose.

Ever hear of Fred Flintstone?

-What's his specialty?
-Running.

His nickname was "Twinkletoes."

What are his measurements?

Starting from the bottom up, about 55, 45, and 35.

Shaped like a bullet, huh?

Where do I find this tiger?

In accounting class.

Okay, Slate. I'll get him out for the team.

[Rock] Hey, mister.

Ever play football?

You can talk, can't you?

Let me hear you say something.

[stammering]

What's your name?

Uh, Mr. Simplesoul.

Save it. I'm not an upperclassman.

Are you "Twinkletoes" Flintstone?

Yes, sir, but I don't play football anymore.
I'm here to study.

Can it. Be at practice tomorrow.

But, sir, I lost out on a high-school education

because I went out for football.

-[boy] Mister, did you drop my books?
-Sir, I--

Be silent when you talk to me, freshman.
Pick up my books.

-All six of them.
-[Fred] Yes, sir. One.

-[paddle cracks]
-Ouch!

Two. Three. Ooh!

-First can I ask the coach something?
-Go ahead.

Uh, will I get to play with the upperclassmen, sir?

Yeah. You can rock them and sock them.

What time tomorrow do you want me?

Glad to have you on the team, Flintstone.
Now, I'd like you to meet

some of the school chums
you're gonna be playing with.

Boys, I'd like you to meet
Prinstone's new quarterback

"Twinkletoes" Flintstone.

Twinkletoes, meet Bronto Kragurski,

Bat Mastodon,

and King Kong Quagmire.

Howdy, uh, chums.

[bones cracking]

[Bronto] Pleased to meet you.

[Rock] And this is Sammy Bog.

[bones crunch]

Sammy's our best passer.

Poor Fred.

He's got to work all day,
practice football all evening,

and study till morning.

And on top of memorizing the signals,

he's gotta keep all those
accounting problems in his head.

Yeah, and he's got such a small head. [giggling]

I don't know what'll happen. He's really torn.

[Rock] Hold it. Hold it.

Quagmire.

What did I tell you to do on this play?

[Quagmire] Uh... when the ball is snapped,

I charge into the backfield.

I grab a handful of backfield men.

I toss them off one by one

till I get to the one with the ball.

-And?
-[Quagmire] And I keep him.

Right. But look. Flintstone doesn't have the ball.

Uh, well, he was gonna pass it, and you said,

"If you see he's trying to pass,

make him eat the ball."

[Rock] So?

Good boy. I thought you forgot.

Yay, Prinstone! Prinstone!
Yay, Prinstone!

What are you shouting for, you idiot?
The game hasn't started yet.

Uh, why wait till the last minute?

Hey, uh, dig those students from Shale.

Look at those shoulders, them legs.

Where? Where? All I see are the girl cheerleaders.

[Barney] That's what I'm talking about. [laughs]

[scat singing]

Poor Fred. I'll bet he's nervous.

[snoring]

Now, this next play is number 28

with running options 12 or 13.

Option 12 or 13 at 3 percent interest.

-Number 8 carries.
-[Fred] Carries.

-The guards open a hole in the line.
-[Fred] Divide by two.

Flintstone!

-Are you listening?
-Yeah, Coach.

The answer is 109 net profit after taxes.

Good afternoon, football fans.
This is Bill Stone bringing you the game

Prinstone versus its archrival, Shale.

And here come our Prinstone boys
out on the field now.

Real champs, every one of them.

Look at that hustle. Look at that spirit.

Oh! That's the visiting team.
And here comes our gang.

There's the touchdown twins
Brick Huntley and Hunt Brickley.

Leading the Prinstone Tigers today
is Fred "Twinkletoes" Flintstone.

Fred's a tremendous fellow, nearly 5 feet tall.

Strong, too.

You can see the muscles bulging out
from under his helmet.

And there's the kickoff.

Good one.

Flintstone takes the ball on his own 2-yard line.

He's at the 10. The 20. Uh-oh. He's hit hard.

A nice tackle by Hunt Brickley, Shale end.

Assisted by numbers 22, 18,

forty-four, 57, and 86.

Let's see what the record book
says about Brickley.

"He wears size 31-E bedroom slippers.

Likes rocky road ice cream,

and leads the Poison-Ivy League
in razor blade commercials."

It's a long pass to Flintstone.

He's on Shale's 40-yard line.

The 30. The 20. The 10!

[thuds]

He's over. He's over.

Flintstone scores for Prinstone.

The kick is good, and that is the end
of the quarter with Prinstone leading 7 to nothing.

[marching band playing]

Poor Fred.

He's been playing so rough with those boys,
I hope he's not overdoing it.

[Barney] Oh, don't worry about Twinkletoes, Wilma.

Here he comes for the second quarter.

[snoring]

The teams are lined up, folks.

There's the kick.

Shale quarterback, Pale O'Lithic returns the ball.

What speed. What deception.

The Prinstone players can't touch him.

[thuds]

Wow, folks, what a tackle!

Flintstone came out of nowhere
to drop O'Lithic with a toe-tip trip.

If I hadn't been watching,
I'd have sworn it was lying there all the time.

But then, I can't see a thing
through these glasses anyway.

[Stone] The score is 19-13, folks.

And with two minutes left to play,
it looks bad for Prinstone.

It's fourth down for Shale
on their own 20-yard line.

The ball is snapped.
O'Lithic is fading back to throw a pass.

It's a beauty!

[snoring]

Flintstone intercepts on his own 30-yard line
and is stopped on the 50 by the Shale team.

Fourth down, 40 yards to go.

And with 20 seconds left in the game,
Flintstone's calling the signals.

Sixteen, carry three to balance sheet.

Forty-nine to double entry, minus 20 for trial audit.

Hey, look at that.

Fred must be calling some new kind of signals.

Fourteen thousand decimal 12

minus original capitalization of 5000 at 6 percent.

[Betty] Why are all the players
standing around so mixed-up?

Less depreciation at 4 percent per annum. Hike.

[grunts]

With ten seconds to play, Flintstone makes
a last desperate touchdown attempt.

His deceptive signal calling has
momentarily confused the Shale defense.

Flintstone is approaching the goal line.
Will he make it?

He made it.
Hey, Mr. Slate, old Twinkletoes tied the score.

Yes. But we need the extra point to win.

The crowd is hushed
as Prinstone goes into the final huddle.

How's about trying to bunt the run-in?

Bunt? That's baseball.

Uh, yeah, but I bet it would take them by surprise.

Uh, how about, uh, trying a field goal?

-[Fred] Can you kick one?
-[stammering] I never tried.

Look, it's easy.

I'll hold the ball for you, and when I nod my head,

you kick it between the goal posts. Got it?

Uh, you hold the ball,
and then, uh, when you nod your head,

I kick it between the goal posts. Got it.

Prinstone is in kick formation.

The ball is snapped.

Flintstone holds for Hammer Slag.

Hammer Slag races toward the ball, and...

It's a beautiful kick. Flintstone is going up, up,

and over the goal posts.

[thuds]

There's the signal gun ending the game,
and Prinstone wins 20-19.

-[crowd cheering]
-Yay, Prinstone!

Yay, Prinstone!

Prinstone!

[Slate] Good boy, Flintstone.

I told you I appreciate a man with spunk.

You're in line for a bigger job. Worthy of your talent.

Fred, did you hear that?

A promotion?

You mean I'm finally getting out of the hole?

No, no, no. You can keep your regular job.

After 12 years, you're finally getting the hang of it.

It's just that I liked the way
you went to bat for the football team.

So, I'm forming the Gravel Pit Packers,

a professional football team.

And you're gonna be my quarterback.

I am?

Only this time
you won't have to play with schoolboys.

This time, you'll be playing with men.

Mrs. Flintstone?

Mrs. Flintstone, where are you going?

Get yourself a new quarterback, Mr. Slate.

I'm putting Twinkletoes to bed.

[theme music playing]

[yawns]

Wilma!

Wilma!

Come on, Wilma, open the door!

Wilma!