Original subtitles

Kellogg's, the best to you each morning from Kellogg's.

brought to you by Kellogg's your best choice in cereals the best to you each

morning

In the town of San Chihuahua, during the early days of old California, law and

order was denied the people who struggled under the oppressive rule of a

military tyrant.

Sergeant, go see what that fool Peon has pinned to the wall.

See, General?

It say, Sheriff Wanted.

That's very funny.

Someday... Someone will come and get rid of you, General Pat Gaius, you

oppressor. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, there appeared an avenging figure.

Olé!

Caban!

And justice suddenly vanished into thin air.

Oh, is this figure, they suddenly appear as if from nowhere?

It is none other than the hero I was telling about, El Caban.

He calls himself El Capone.

Like Santa Claus, there is no such a person as El Capone.

Oh, no?

What do you think this is? Another head?

Go, collect more taxes.

Si, General. And keep telling yourself, there is no El Capone.

Si, General.

There is no El Capone.

Olé! There is no El Capone.

Meanwhile, in a fine old hacienda nearby, there lived a fine old

gentleman, Don Fatigo, and his beautiful daughter, Senorita Rita.

Good morning, father.

Good morning, my beautiful daughter.

Prepare yourself for a surprise.

I have sent for the best guitar teacher in the country for you.

Oh, father, you are a fine old hacienda. I mean old gentleman.

At that very moment, the new music teacher and his assistant approached the

fine old hacienda.

In reality, he was the famous lawman, Quickdraw McGraw, and he is also El

Cabong. He's going to bring law and order to this town.

Tell me, Quickdraw, why do you hide behind the mask of El Cabong?

Because nobody will take my unmasked face seriously.

Learning how to play the cabonger, uh...

I mean, the guitar is easy.

Listen. Oh, I won't be at the Roundup, Nellie, because I'm such a square.

Here, you try it, Senorita Rita.

Gracias, Senor.

Oh, I won't be at the Roundup, Nellie, because I'm such a square.

Oh, that's excellent. For the first try, Senorita Rita.

I don't think so.

What do you want, you oppressor? I have come to ask for the hand of your

beautiful daughter.

For the 117th time, the answer is still no, you handsome villain.

You heard the lady, so get.

What? You dare talk to me like that, you horse face?

smarts on account of that sword is pointy anyone else dare like to try

putting me out how about you shorty do you dare huh oh you can stay for

dinner for all i care i dare you villain you don

fatigo why you little

Say, Quikstra, don't you think this look like a job for you-know-who?

Well, I give up, Baba Louie. Who?

You, Quikstra. You are El Cabong.

I am?

Oh, yeah, that's right. I am.

I almost forgot.

I better make a fast change.

And now, Don Patigo, I demand your daughter's hand in marriage.

Will El Cabong do instead?

Was there ever any doubt?

You had broken my final guitar on the gentleman's ass, you owe.

Sorry, lady, but there are certain occupational hazards connected with

being a masked hero.

And here's another occupational hazard.

What?

Say, that is not being very sportsmanlike, you know.

Oh, my final chandelier.

Give me mine.

Number five sword, Bubba Louie. Here you are, Quickstrap. I had it all ready for

you. And now, you villainous oppressor, you shall feel the pointy sword of El

Tabung.

You,

watch that final expensive vase.

You mean this one?

That's right.

Watch it.

Yes, sir, Senor Don.

Whoops. Sorry.

You clumsy fool, you. I told you to watch that final bass.

Touché. And a touché to you, too. And don't you forget it.

Careful of my final priceless antique table.

And my final genuine bone china teapot.

I'll give him my famous elk a shish kebab lunch.

This gets him every time.

I can't stand it any longer.

Neither can I.

All together now.

Uh-oh.

Ouch, ouch.

This is no way to treat a masked hero.

We are without a mask. It's the same old quicksand.

Chiller. Greetings, lovers of spine-chilling stories.

If you were the scary type, do not watch this show.

You had best go prune a daffodil or something.

Snoop is right, folks.

This is a real scary story.

Honest. It all started one day whilst I was admiring me fabulous butterfly

collection.

I like me fabulous butterfly collection, which I am admiring.

Snooper Detective Agency.

We solve your case without rhyme or reason. And also make keys during the

dull slack season.

Snoop speaking.

I need help. Could you come to Creepy Mountain House right away?

Pardon me, doubtful Thomas Attitude, but you don't sound needy for help.

I don't?

Well... Help!

You convinced?

Yeah, especially me left ear.

So after a visit to me left ear doctor, Blab and I jumped in our car and... Oh,

boy! May I tell it, Snoop? Huh? May I?

Pray do, Blab.

It was midnight when we arrived at Creepy Mountain House.

Are you the private eyes I called?

We are.

I hired you to get rid of some unwelcome tenants in my haunted house.

Well, uh, you're a ghost.

Why don't you just scare them out? I tried that, but they scared me out

instead. Are you sure they're human-type people? Just plain folks?

I'm positive.

In that case, I'll just slap them with a writ of habeas vacancy. That'll get them

out.

Oh, dear.

The door chime.

Don't disturb yourself, sweetheart.

I'll see who it is.

Yes? What can I do for you?

Whereas you moved into this house that was already preoccupied, I therefore,

and to wit, slap you with this writ of habeas vacancy.

Who is it, darling?

Not that silly ghost again.

No, Precious. Just some gentlemen who insist we move out.

Isn't that funny?

Blab, do you dare laugh at a writ of habeas vacancy?

I couldn't help it, Snoop. He made me laugh.

Well, laugh this off.

We're not moving and that's that.

Now run along.

I must finish knitting this spiderweb sweater for Junior.

And I must read the rest of my gruesome comics book.

Come on, Blamp. We'll start in by moving the furniture out.

Right, Snoop. Hey, Snoop, isn't the baby cute?

You look just as cute outside, Blamp.

Blamp, help!

Cut him off!

Enough cuteness for now, Blab.

Help me roll up this rug.

Right, Snoop.

After we take the rug out, we'll... We'll what,

Snoop? Snoop?

late tribulation experience.

Look,

Snoop. He's mixing some sort of a chemical potion of some sort.

May have a kitty chemistry set he got for his birthday.

I have a spot.

any reading done.

Quiet, Junior, quiet.

Thank your wolf monster and go to your room.

You mean you didn't get him

out? We were lucky to get ourselves out.

Oh, dear.

What'll I do now?

I'll be a homeless...

Dickens' Scary Ghost, and that's final.

Television studio, say listen, how would you like to put on me life story?

According to the papers, they're loading the skies with all sorts of hardware,

like rockets and missiles and all that outer space stuff.

Ah, give me the good old days when the fastest thing in the air was a

hummingbird flitting from flower to flower.

It's someone at the door.

Coming, coming.

Hello, Harold, my boy.

Is Augie coming to Benson's birthday party?

Come right in, Harold, and I'll see if he's ready.

Augie, Harold is here.

Augie, are you there?

I'm in here, dear old dad.

The square root of the hypotenuse divided by... Harold's outside waiting

to go to Benson's birthday party. I know, dear old dad, but can't you see

I'm terribly busy?

Terribly busy doing what, my son, my son?

I'm rechecking Einstein's theory of relativity.

My boy, I'm sure that Einstein went over it himself several times and found it

okay.

Au contraire, naive dad.

I do believe I've caught old Albert in a slight error.

Hey, Augie, are you coming to the party or ain't you?

Will you tell Harold I'm not going to the party? That's a good old dad.

I will tell him no such thing, because you are so, too, going to that party.

But, Dad, parties are for kids.

I'd only be in the way.

Marky, my boy, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. So get going,

dull Marky. Oh, very well, Dictator Dad, since it's only next door.

What did you get for Benson's present?

A book on advanced mathematics as applied to nuclear energy.

I hope he'll enjoy reading it. If he don't, he can always use it as a

doorstop.

Hi, Augie. We're going to play games at Benson's party.

Yeah, big deal.

Come on, let's get it over with.

By now, my son Augie is probably the life of the party.

After all, he's a chip off the old block.

Why, I can still remember them parties.

I'd make the big entrance, and everybody in the room would look up. As I paused

nonchalantly before bowing to the ladies, I would hold the bow as the

crowd applauded.

And then I'd... Ouch!

Dad, I didn't know you were coming to the party.

We're playing pin the tail on the donkey.

The donkey is your dear old dad.

You came back like a homing pigeon.

It's like I said, Dad.

I'm not cut out for fun and frolic. I'm the studious type.

I'd be less than a dad if I didn't help my boy in his hour of dire need.

Hockey, I heard a funny story that would liven up any party. Listen to this.

What has four eyes but cannot see?

The answer is Miss Size B.

Four eyes.

Get it?

Why aren't you laughing, Augie?

Because in the first place, the joke is based on a play on words, which makes it

a childish pun.

And in the second place, my boy, you're going right back to the party and make

everybody laugh with that joke.

Well, if you say so, Father.

He'll thank me later for making him tell that very funny joke.

I got a thousand of them. A thousand of them.

Mark, what are you doing here?

Did you forget the funny joke?

I wish I had, father of all vaudeville days.

You mean you told it?

I mean I told it. And I laid a great big egg.

Well, maybe it was over their pointy little heads.

Oh, no. They got it.

But the new generation with their pointy little heads also have very sharp

brains. Well, that's that.

Thanks anyway for the assist, Dad.

Augie, wait. I got an idea.

Oh, not another unfunny story. I couldn't stand it.

This can't miss, Augie, my boy.

It's my old vaudeville routine.

And do not applause until I am done.

As you wish, dear old Dad.

Folks, on my way to the theater.

A panhandler stopped me, and he said he hadn't had a bite for a week.

So, I bit him.

Pisk, pisk, pisk. Poor dear old dad.

And then, I go into my fancy dance.

Well,

back to Einstein.

Doggy, come back here.

Now go and lay him in the aisles. Why fight it?

And don't forget the rickety tick, the rickety tick, Augie. It gives the act

class.

Hello, Dad.

Well, how did it go, Augie, my illustrious son?

Another egg, my disappointed father.

Rickety tick and all.

Gosh, Augie, I don't know what else to suggest.

Oh, well.

That takes care of future parties.

And now, back to my studies on time and space.

If I let him quit now, he'll grow up to be a hymen.

Okay, wait.

It's no use, well-meaning dad. I don't know what to do at parties.

Give it one more try, Augie, my son, my son.

But what'll I do?

There's man to man, my boy, and there's father to son.

The best advice I can give you is to always be yourself.

Now go, my son, and remember.

Yes, dear old dad.

Augie has been gone a long time, and it's so quiet at that party, something

tells me I'd better go check.

Well, what do you know?

Augie is being himself.

Gosh, Augie, tell us more about rockets.

It's all very simple, really. The amount of thrust is determined by the size of

the rocket fuel explosion.

the volume of which releases the rocket and propels it into outer space.

That's my boy of tomorrow who said that today.

Choice in cereals, the best to you. Each morning has brought you quick...