Original subtitles

(theme music playing)

NARRATOR: Man lives in the sunlit world

of what he believes to be reality.

But... there is,

unseen by most, an underworld.

A place that is just as real

but not as brightly lit.

A dark side.

(indistinct chatter, shouts)

(grunting)

(indistinct shouts)

(grunts)

(shouting)

(yells)

Lockjaw is looking real mean tonight.

(grunting)

ln his own corner, Basher's in trouble.

lt's the reverse headlock!

Chocolate chip or peanut butter, sweetie?

Chocolate chip, Mom.

(Basher grunts)

(crowd jeering)

(fierce grunt)

(cheering, shouting)

(indistinct shouts, chatter)

Rip his arm off and feed it to him, you puke!

Gouge his eyes out!

-Hit him! -Bite him!

(grunting)

Come on, Basher, give him a hiplock!

(grunting)

(cheering, whistling)

Don't try to wrestle him, you ninny!

Basher's got Lockjaw tied up in his own corner.

lt looks like a great opening for Basher.

Only women fight fair!

But look at that!

Ryan has handed his fighter the brass knuckles!

Another typical dirty move by Ryan!

Come on, Basher, clobber him!

(indistinct shouts, chatter)

Go!

(crowd booing)

(bell clangs)

(grunting)

Cookies?!

Didn't you forget the strained carrots?

-Ooh! -(crowd booing)

(indistinct shouts, booing)

You dirty little slime.

You little...

(yells)

Oh... Whoa!

(rhythmic grunting)

Basher's the top dog now.

That's who they're cheering for-- hah!

lt ain't over yet.

Whoa-whoa-whoa...!

Ooh!

Time for your cookies and milk, sweetie.

Okay, Mom.

Basher Malone is about to administer

the coup de grace with his patented Basher-gram.

And you know what that is--

that's a one-way ticket to la-la land!

(grunting, panting)

(cheering)

(Lockjaw grunts)

Cupcake!

You've had a real vendetta

against the fighters on Tippy Ryan's team

ever since you came into professional wrestling, Basher.

Until l came on the scene,

Tippy Ryan's thugs were the only role models

that impressionable young children had

in pro wrestling.

Kids need a righteous hero, like myself, to look up to.

A square-dealing, straight-shooting,

clean-fighting man.

TlPPY: Heh!

Oh-ho, this must be a humiliating experience

for you, Tippy Ryan.

Basher Malone has degraded, debased, de-maimed

and dismantled every fighter in your stable.

(Tippy muttering)

MAN: Tippy, what do you want to do with this guy?

(indistinct crowd shouts)

Get him out of the ring,

-you jerk! -Ooh!

You help him!

Don't just stand there!

(booing, shouting)

Ladies and gentlemen, this is not a very pretty sight.

(phone ringing)

Yeah?

Yeah, listen, boss...

there's no way l can beat Basher Malone

with the wimps you keep sending me.

l need your top gun-- a skull crusher!

No, no, no, no, listen, boss,

if l get Basher Malone in the ring

with one of your boys from the Fire and Brimstone League,

our troubles'll be over.

Yeah.

(chortling)

And, kids, don't forget what the Basher tells you.

Brush your teeth

after every meal, do your homework,

and listen to your mom when she...

(cigar hisses)

l got the meanest, the slimiest,

the dirtiest fighter of all time,

if you've got the guts, Basher Malone.

What's the matter, you need a note from your mommy?

Any time and any place, you pencil-neck.

Midnight, my gym.

No audience, no refs...

no holds barred.

Don't worry, Mom, l know what l'm doing.

l'm gonna nip this thing right in the bud.

MOM: Though l walk through the valley of darkness,

l fear no evil,

because my son is the toughest son of a gun

in the whole darn valley.

TlPPY: How touching.

Where's your fighter?

(distorted keypad beeps)

(line ringing)

Yeah, this is Tippy Ryan.

Can you send up my special order, please?

Of course l've got an account with ya!

Jerk.

(switches clank, electricity hums)

Who are you?

My job is to get impressionable young kids

to root for dirty fighters like Lockjaw Lukasec!

And my client takes over from there.

Well, l happen to be very good at my work.

30 years my gym has produced a steady stream

of the dirtiest fighters

for the, for the wrestling profession!

My wrestlers have-have gouged and kicked

and maimed their way to the top!

Most important of all...

a whole generation of kids

grew up with these lowlifers as their heroes!

Then you come along...

and now everybody wants to cheer for the good guy.

Everybody wants to cheer for you, Basher Malone.

Everybody wants to wear Basher Malone T-shirts

and walk little old ladies across the street.

They want to look like you, Basher Malone,

they want to talk like you, they want to dress like you!

Worst of all, they want to be drippy Goody Little Two-shoes

just like you, Basher Malone!

Well, you want to fight evil?

l'll give you evil.

l'll give you something that a true crusader

only dreams about.

l'll give you the real thing.

(eerie crackling, whirring)

(whirring grows louder)

(woman speaks indistinctly)

Oh...

(deep, distorted moaning)

(growling)

(growling)

(whooshing stops)

Basher Goody Two-shoes Malone,

meet your next and final opponent...

Trog!

(growling)

(growling)

(whirring)

He's accustomed to a much warmer climate down there.

Folks...

show time.

(growling)

All right, come on, come on, both of you.

Now, on my left...

he weighs 267 pounds,

he's the challenger,

from Good Ship Lollipop Land...

(Trog growling)

...Basher Malone.

TlPPY: You might say that

Trog is a true product of his environment.

His weight rises

with the inverse ratio of the purity of his opponent's soul.

By that, l mean... the more sinful his opponent,

the heavier he becomes.

(beeping)

And some of those sinners down there,

he has hit as high as 80,000 pounds.

My boy is as pure as the driven snow.

his fight will be two falls out of three, winner take all,

and if you win, Basher... (chortles)

l will close up shop

and send all my fighters

back to where they came from.

But if my fighter wins, you, Basher,

retire from the ring forever

and Trog takes possession of the title

and Trog becomes the idol of millions and millions

of impressionable children.

Oh, Basher, no.

Oh.

(Trog grunts)

l just wanted to wish you good luck.

(Trog growling)

-MOM: Basher! -(Trog growls, Basher groans)

(Trog laughs)

(both grunting)

(groaning)

-Yeah, yeah, yeah. -(Trog growling)

(grunting)

(coughs)

All right, Trog, yeah, get him!

All right, get him down there!

Come on, baby, do it for me, come on.

(Trog laughing, Basher groaning)

Trog T-shirts, Trog coloring books, Trog dolls!

Ursula dolls!

Yeah, children playing with Trog and Ursula dolls together!

Yeah, yeah!

l love it!

(groans)

You can't let him win, Basher.

Think of the children.

(Trog laughing, Basher groaning)

The Basher-gram, the Basher-gram.

(both grunting)

Send him back where he came from.

(both grunting)

The harder you strain, the heavier he gets.

My Basher's a good boy.

The Greeks call it hubris--

the sin of excessive pride.

Basher Malone

has a very high opinion of himself.

Don't you, Basher?

(both grunting)

Yeah, with Basher's ego,

l figure Trog ought to top 900 pounds before he's through.

(both grunting)

-(Trog laughing) -Whoa!

(both grunting)

(laughing)

Good night, lrene.

(laughing)

(Trog growling)

(Basher groaning)

(Trog chuckling)

(Trog laughing, growling)

''Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.''

(chuckles)

What am l gonna do?

l can't win without my Basher-gram.

There's more than one way to skin a cat.

l've been working on some strategy.

l don't need no strategy.

l'm the best there is.

Nobody can beat me two out of three falls.

(growling)

(Basher groans)

(Trog growling, Basher groaning)

All right, put him away, put him away.

(Basher yells)

(both grunting)

(Trog laughing, Basher groaning)

(laughter)

(Basher groaning)

(whooping) Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Go, go!

(Trog grunting)

URSULA: Oh... oh!

(Ursula grunting)

You look a little peaked.

How about some ice-cold lemonade?

(Trog screams, Ursula gasps)

Just trying to be helpful.

(grunting)

(Trog screeching)

(both grunting)

(sobbing)

(Basher grunts)

One, two, three!

(Mom cackling)

(Tippy wheezes)

(groaning)

But, sweetie, you haven't had your cookies and milk.

l don't need no cookies and milk,

and l don't need my Basher-gram.

l'm Basher Malone and l can lick anybody in the place.

Pride comes before the fall, young man.

That could be just what they're counting on.

-(dismissive groan) -So you're such a big shot now,

you don't have to listen to your mom anymore.

(groaning)

Oh, baby, oh.

(Ursula moaning, Trog growling)

(both grunting)

(Basher yells)

(both grunting)

Basher, no, you can't lift him.

(both grunting)

(Trog laughs)

(Basher grunts)

(Trog laughing, Basher groaning)

What? What?

Ah, yeah, yeah, yeah!

(Basher straining)

(growling)

(grunting)

No, not milk! Aah!

(sizzling, hissing)

(screaming continues)

Oh, baby.

(growling): Oh, no... Oh, no...

Oh, no.

You're the only friend he ever had.

(growling)

(Trog chortles)

(both grunting)

(Trog laughing, Basher groaning)

One, two...

Finish him off, you wart head!

(both grunting)

No, no, you don't, no more tricks.

Time to get rid of this once and for all.

Mom...!

(Trog chuckles)

Mom!

Get out of the way!

Mom, l need you.

(Trog grunting)

(Trog grunting)

(Trog whimpers, Basher grunts)

(Basher laughs)

(Trog whimpering)

Get out of the way! Come on, move it!

(Tippy muttering angrily)

Move it!

(chuckles nervously)

l... l think you dropped this, young lady.

Bon voyage, Tippy Ryan.

l'm gonna send you to Hell, one piece at a time.

Basher, it's not for us to judge.

Sorry, Mom.

Basher, don't litter.

(Trog grunting, Tippy screaming)

(coin clinks)

When's the last time l took you out to dinner?

Never.

Well, l just happen to know a place

where the steaks are so big, the waiters all wear trusses.

Oh.

l'll take mine rare.

You got it, Mom.

NARRATOR: The dark side is always there.

Waiting for us to enter.

Waiting to enter us.

Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight.