Original subtitles

Gosh, it's the hotline.

Tiny Human Underground Military Bureau.

Chief Homer J.

Chief on this end. The world's about to be destroyed. Get Tom right over here to

the Pentagon.

Will do, Chief Chief.

What's happening, baby?

Chief Chief needs you.

Hold on, Gil. Don't blow your cool.

Sorry, boss, but the world's about to be destroyed.

Hmm. That could be bad news for a lot of innocent people.

Better have Swingin' Jack fire up the copter.

The war won't end with us around.

No shock.

Knock off the gap, Swingin' Jack.

Fly.

What can be keeping that three-inch tadpole?

He should be here by now.

Bad timing, Swingin' Jack.

Try again.

Oh, that fool.

How I'd like to fire him.

Tom of THUMB reporting, Chief James. On the ball and ready for action.

Where, where the blazes are you?

It's about time you got here.

So what's the end of the world bit this time, Chief?

What do you think?

It's M.A.D. again.

Our agents have uncovered another plot.

M.A.D.

Maladjusted Antisocial

Darn mean. How my blood boils at the mention of that despicable organization

of scientists.

Bent on nothing less than destroying the world for their own gains.

I know all that, Tom.

Sorry, Chief Chief.

Well, what's the gimmick this time?

A device buried two miles underground.

So powerful, it'll blow the world to smithereens.

Smithereens? Golly, that's no joke, Chief Chief.

Why don't you just dig it up and dump it in a pot of water or something?

Can't dig that far in time.

We've only been able to bore a one-inch hole down to it. I see.

Just wide enough for Tom of THUMB.

According to T.T.'s chart here, the hole he bored should be right down below.

Below? But that's a golf course.

Precisely. The seventh hole.

Bring her in, Swingin' Jack, and bring her in good.

Mind if we play through?

Ah!

Close one, Swingin' Jack.

There's always one clown who doesn't get the message.

Just down a few feet more.

Boss, what's that up ahead? A monster.

Good gravy.

A man-eating mouse.

Looks like a job for you, Swingin' Jack.

Me?

Get him with your transistorized ultrasonic paralyzer gun.

Oh, darn.

I left it at home.

Rotten planning, Swingin' Jack.

This calls for quick... thinking.

Luckily,

ventriloquism is one of my many talents.

Once more, man's ingenuity triumphs over the wily mouse.

Push on, Swingin' Jack.

All right, George Swingin' Jack, we found it, and not a moment too soon.

Just to sell it? Immediately.

Yeah, but how?

Be scientific.

Kick the darn thing.

Asshole. And if that doesn't work, run like crazy.

No use.

We're done for, boss.

Tom of THUMB is never finished.

Hey! I stopped it!

I saved the world!

The scientists of M.A.D. are deucedly clever, but not clever enough for

Tom of T.H.U.M.B.

Oh, boss, you were just wonderful, as usual.

Cut the musk, Gale.

Let's get back to headquarters quick.

Right, boss.

Keep them flying.

Or something.