Original subtitles

(rousing orchestral fanfare)

- Now look O'Hara, it is not my fault if you misunderstood.

- I didn't misunderstand anything,

you deliberately told me the wrong time.

- You know something?

This is why Uncle Oliver doesn't promote you O'Hara,

you've always got an alibi.

- Alibi?

I'll alibi you.

I'll break you in two.

- Oh, well come on now, do me a favor, hit me.

- Oh, this is one favor I'd be glad to do.

You know something, I owe you an awful lot Freddy Carson,

and I'm going to start paying you off right now.

(magical gong)

(audience laughs)

- Hollering for help already, huh?

You yellow O'Hara!

(growls) (audience laughs)

- Well what did you do that for?

- Tim, a bloody nose never settled anything.

- Well maybe not, but on him,

it would sure look good.

(audience laughs)

- You Earthlings never cease to amaze me.

Your ultimate argument is always,

"I can lick you with one hand tied behind my back."

(audience laughs)

- Alright, Uncle Martin, no lectures, please,

I'm not in the mood.

- In other words, to use your own phrase,

put up or shut up.

- That would be nice, yes.

- Very well, let's review the situation.

The basis of the conflict between you and Freddy

is that you're both up for promotion to journeyman reporter.

- Yes, well you can forget it as far as I'm concerned.

Freddy has the inside track.

- You mean because he's Mrs. Burns' nephew?

- Well, that and a lot of other things.

Have you noticed how closely he sticks to Burns,

just like glue, and he's always buttering him up,

and telling him what a nice guy he is.

And he's always laughing at everything Mr. Burns says,

it's always so funny.

It's disgusting! (audience laughs)

(draw slams)

Come on Martin, let's go home.

(playful orchestral interlude)

(magical music)

- Who you tuning in on Uncle Martin?

That's eavesdropping!

- [Martin] I know.

- [Tim] What's he saying?

- He is saying that osso bucco is a far superior dish

to grenadine of beef.

Your Mr. Burns, is a gourmet.

- Oh, well that solves my problem.

(audience laughs) - Now, maybe it does.

Don't let opportunity slip through your fingers.

- Opportunity for what?

- For buttering up the boss,

like he's never been buttered before.

It so happens, that back home,

I'm known as the L'Escoffier

of The Martian Master Chef Society.

We'll invite him to dinner.

I'll prepare a meal that is literally out of this world.

Martian strew! (audience laughs)

- Isn't that a little far to go just for the ingredients?

- To the gourmet the staples are unimportant.

I can substitute foods from Earth.

The important thing is the condiments.

The spices, which give an exotic piquancy

to an otherwise simple comestible.

Those I have in the spaceship.

Between slathering on the butter,

and attacking his palate,

we'll have him begging you to accept that promotion.

(audience laughs) (playful musical interlude)

(high pitched beeps)

(otherworldly music)

(high pitched beeps)

(whimsical orchestral theme music)

(playful orchestral music)

- After a meal like that, it would be a desecration

ever to eat again. (audience laughs)

- Well, thank you very much Mr. Burns.

We have a saying around here,

that nothing is too good for my boss.

- Thank you Tim, I'm flattered.

Now, let us see if I can still stand up.

(laugh) (audience laughs)

- That's re--

That's funny!

Let's see if I can still stand

up! (audience laughs)

(slaps)

- That's strange, I feel like I'm going to--

(hiccup) (audience laughs)

Gotta stretch my legs.

(hiccup) (audience laughs)

Excuse me.

(slow paced orchestral music)

(audience laughs)

(slow hiccup)

(audience laughs)

Ex

cuse

me.

(slower paced orchestral music)

(audience laughs)

(slow laugh)

(slow hiccup)

(audience laughs)

(audience laughs)

- Mr. Burns?

Mr. Burns, can you hear me?

- What did you put in the stew?

- Nothing.

Except a little ground whifflebark.

- But what happened?

- I don't know?

Apparently some sort of chemical reaction

from mixing my Martian condiments with your Earth food.

- Well, we all ate the same thing.

- You didn't, you didn't eat your salad.

- You ate it, now why aren't you like him?

- Tim, I was raised on whifflebark.

- Oh, well what do we do?

Call a doctor?

- This is a Martian syndrome.

Your Earth doctors wouldn't know where to begin.

(magical music)

- What's the matter?

- Testing for brain waves.

- Can he hear us?

- Ssh!

His mind is a complete blank.

- Yeah, well I know exactly how he feels.

Uncle Martin, do you realize what you've done to me?

You've petrified my boss!

(audience laughs)

- I'm aware of what I've done.

I'm also aware of the fact,

that if anyone should see him in this condition,

there will inevitably be some sort of investigation,

which could expose me as a Martian.

- Well, what can we do about it?

- It's very simple.

All we have to do is cure him.

- Do you mind if I ask how?

- First, we break down all the chemical elements involved

into basic formulae, reassemble them into compound formulae,

and determine their inter-reactions.

- You do that. (audience laughs)

You know what we should have done?

We should have taken him out to dinner.

That little Hungarian restaurant down on the corner?

All he would have had now is heartburn.

(audience laughs)

- Of course!

That's it!

- What?

What, what, what?

- Are you in anyway familiar with the homo cycle,

and hetero cycle sub classifications of chemical compounds?

It was a ridiculous question. (audience laughs)

Suffice it to say, that all we have to do is counteract--

(magical music)

Mrs Brown.

- Do what to Mrs. Brown.

- Yoo-hoo everybody!

Did Tim get promoted yet?