Original subtitles

NARRATOR: This is the planet Mars.

In the summer of 1954...

... this planet passed extremely close to the Earth.

So close that a cosmic force was disturbed.

And a baby intended for the Earth was delivered to Mars...

... while a Martian baby went by mistake to the Earth.

WOMAN [ON INTERCOM]: Mr. Wilbur, you may see your baby now.

[BEEPING]

Somebody goofed.

But, Martha, why can't we keep him in the house?

I mean, somebody might see him.

Because he's our baby, Joseph Wilbur, and he needs sunshine and fresh air.

[BEEPING]

[BEE BUZZING]

But, darling, we...

We can't have him talking to any strange bee he might meet on the street.

Joseph Wilbur, aren't you ashamed of yourself?

But it's not fair, Martha.

Anyway, I didn't go near Joe's Bar and Grill.

Well, it's a baby.

So sweet and such a healthy green baby too.

Green?

[BEEPING]

Oh, no.

[WHISTLES]

[SCREAMING]

Darling, I'm so worried about Baby. He's...

He's doing your income tax.

[BEEPING]

And that isn't all, Joe.

Look.

JOE: What does that stand for?

MARTHA: I looked it up.

It's the Einstein theory.

And that's a model of the illudium molecule.

JOE: Oh, uh, yeah.

And I suppose that's our solar system?

MARTHA: Yes, it is.

JOE: Hmm.

Versatile, isn't he?

Darling, it worries me so.

Take off your hat, dear.

I don't think it's good for a baby to concentrate so much.

JOE: Uh, you're right, Martha.

He should play more.

JOE: Okay, young man.

[CHUCKLES]

You mustn't drudge all the time.

There we are.

[CHUCKLES]

Eh, how's if we watch Captain Schmideo?

Now, then, some lucky boy or girl is going to win...

... this interplanetary flying saucer.

And Captain Schmideo wants it to be you.

Now all you have to do is have mother buy Cosmic Crunchies...

... the new wonder cereal made from unborn sweet peas.

And send in a little old measly 12 box tops.

Isn't that simple?

Well, good night, space rangers.

This is Captain Schmideo blasting off.

[TOOLS RATTLING]

Oh, hey, that's pretty good.

He's building his own toy spaceship.

[ROCKET DRONING]

[DOORBELL RINGS]

Yes?

- Well, thanks. MARTHA: Who was it, dear?

Oh, nothing. Just a kind of a rocket with a message from Mars.

Oh, is that all?

I'm always afraid it'll be a telegram from Mother.

BOTH: Mars?

[ENGINE HUMMING]

JOE: Mot! MARTHA: Mot.

JOE: Mot. Wait. MARTHA: Mot.

MARTHA: Mot, come back, Mot. JOE: Wait, Mot!

JOE: Mot. Come back, Mot.

How will I ever get back my baby unless you come back?

[TIRES SCREECHING]

[ELEVATOR DINGING]

MAN: We are a nation of nervous, foolish children.

We dream up little green men from Mars.

We imagine there are flying saucers.

Hm, flying saucers. Ha, ha, ha.

[CHUCKLING] Green men.

[LAUGHING]

[CRIES]

Mot!

JOE: Hey, you, wait! Where's my baby?

Yob. Yob. Where's my Yob?

Bring back my...

WOMAN [ON INTERCOM]: Mr. Wilbur, you may see your baby now.

Mr. Wilbur?

Phew.

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