Original subtitles

(hammer clanking) (rhythmic whirring)

- Uncle Martin, I can't reach it.

Uncle Martin.

- Shh, Tim.

I'm trying to hear the dawn.

- Hear the dawn?

I thought you were supposed to see it.

- That's right.

But on one of my early trips to your planet

I recall my old friend, Rudyard Kipling

saying that it came up like thunder out of China

and crossed the bay.

- And did it?

- I didn't wait to find out.

You see, there was a report around

that I was an unidentified falling star.

- Oh, well you should've been in Hollywood.

There's a lot of those here.

Look, can you raise me up a couple more feet?

- With consummate pleasure.

(rhythmic whirring)

(dramatic music)

- Uncle Martin.

- Oh, I'm sorry, Tim.

I just wanted to give my levitation finger

a momentary respite.

This overexposure to your heavy pre-dawn atmosphere

well, it's--

it's like running one's finger through richly whipped cream.

- Well, would you mind licking the cream

off of your finger and lifting me back up?

I would like to get this antenna finished

once and for all.

- Alright.

(rhythmic whirring)

- Hey, Uncle Martin, come on, now.

(dramatic music)

come on, stop clowning around.

- Tim, I can't help it.

My levitation finger, it's oxygenated

from too much of the sun's rays.

I can't control it.

(panting) It's out of whack.

- Well, get it away from me.

(audience laughing)

(soft dramatic music)

(soft music) (rhythmic beeping)

(theme music)

(soft lively music)

(loud rumbling)

Uncle Martin, would you stop.

You are turning this place into a disaster area.

- I can't, Tim.

This kind of artificial stimulation

that's falling upon levitating finger

produces an electrical effect by knocking out

the free electrons.

- Oh, that's just great.

What'll I do, call the insurance company and tell them

to come on over, our place is being destroyed

by a finger with a California sun tan.

- Well, I think it looks more like the south of Venus.

(rumbling)

- Martin, will you please do something?

- (stammering) Just what would you like for me to do?

- Shove it outside.

- I can't, it would only absorb more light rays.

- Well, it's not exactly the shade

of the old apple tree, but--

- Nevertheless, better an ill breath than no breath at all.

(soft dramatic music)

- Well, Uncle Martin, I, uh--

I got the place all cleaned up.

Look, you've been standing out here like this

for over half an hour.

- Patience, Tim.

It could be days, weeks

even months.

- Well, you can't just stand out here like this.

- Tim, I'm trying to comprehend some way of resolving

this problem as rapidly as I can.

- Uncle Martin, I have great confidence in your abilities

but until you do come up with something

couldn't you route up the old antennas and disappear?

Before you become a tourist attraction?

- An excellent thought.

(soft dramatic music)

- Oh, no.

- It's no use, Tim.

There's a malfunction in my antenna booster.

I can't disappear.

Perhaps I'd better go back inside.

- Oh, no you don't.

You would have that place looking like the last days

of Pompeii in 10 minutes.

- Well, just what would you like me to do?

One doesn't cast off one's finger like an old shoe.

- Uncle Martin, I am just a simple ignorant earth man.

Now, when something goes wrong with me

I take an aspirin.

- Of course.

Why didn't I think of that?

A temporary relief measure.

- Huh?

- A compound of anti cesium and selenium.

It would act as a sedative.

- Oh, sort of a Martian Mickey Finn for the finger, huh?

- Exactly.

- (laughing) Okay, well, I'll get some.

Where in this primitive world of mine

would I find anti cessis--

anti cimus--

what you said?

- Try the medicine chest in the bathroom.

Second shelf to the right.

- Oh.

(soft cheery music) (telephone ringing)

Hello.

Ye--

Oh, hello Mr. Benson.

(birds chirping)

347 Palm Court.

Yeah, right, sir.

Yeah, I've got it, I'll get on as soon as I can.

Right, right, sir. (hangs up phone)

Oh, boy.

Uncle Martin, my editor, Mr. Benson just called.

Some cooky lady called the police department

and said the house was haunted.

Things are flying all over the house.

I don't know, 347 Palm Court.

347 Palm Court?

(rhythmic whirring)

(rumbling) (dramatic music)

Oh, no.

- Oh, oh!

Ah!

(soft music) (rhythmic whirring)

- Here, drink it quickly.

You sure this is gonna work?

- (gasps) It'll only give me a short respite

but it's better than nothing.

- Oh, ooh.

Well, how's it look?

- Well, aside from a slight hangnail

it looks pretty good.

Well, here goes.

(dramatic music)

(audience laughing)

It worked, Tim.

My finger's completely knocked out.

- Oh, boy.

Well, I've had my feet fall asleep from time to time

but this is a new one.

- We're going to have a visitor.

Mrs. Brown.

(knocking)

- [Mrs. Brown] Tim, Martin, it's me, Loralie.

(audience laughing)

Oh, thank heavens you're here.

Martin, you'll never believe it.

You'll never believe it.

There are all sorts of things flying around my house.

- Things?

- Pictures, tables, lamps.

Well, a chair flew right over my head.

- Oh, well, maybe it was one of those wing bat jobs.

(laughs)

- Oh, Tim, how can you joke at a time like this?

- Now, now, Loralei, calm down and sit down.

- Oh, this was the most frightening experience

I've ever had.

The police just left, they couldn't find anything.

- Score one for us.

(telephone ringing)

Oh, excuse me.

Yes, hello.

- I'm sure there's a logical explanation

for all of this, Loralei.

It was probably just a slight earth tremor.

They've been known to create strange phenomena.

- Oh, really?

Do you think that's all there was to it, Martin?

- I'm sure.

- Well, well, yes, Mr. Benson

but, you see, the police haven't found the reason

that things are floating around.

Well, of course I know ghost stories sell newspapers.

You're sending who?

Whom?

But Mr. B--

Wha--

Yes, sir, I'll be there to meet him.

Yes, goodbye, sir.

(hangs up phone)

Mrs. Brown, you'd better go downstairs.

You're expecting a visitor.

- Oh, really?

Who is it, Tim?

- He is a man who will search every inch of this place

until he finds a solution.

Professor F.P. Clemmons

of Fluke University's Department of Psychic Phenomena?

- Oh, that's nice.

The Department of Psychic Phenomena?

Oh, my.

- Oh, my.

Uncle Martin, he's here.

- I know.

And we're going to have to get rid of him

as fast as we can.

There's no telling how soon the anti cesium and selenium

compound will wear off.

- My uncle, the walking time bomb.

- Well, I don't particularly relish the description.

But I'm afraid I must not only concur

but add on a short fuse as well.

- Oh, brother.

And you expect to get rid of Professor F.P. Clemmons

as easily as that, huh?

Look, once he starts on a project

there's no pulling him off of it.

He'll have us under a microscope before you know it.

- Mm-hmm.

And with my spaceship in the garage

that's exactly what we cannot permit.

- Oh, the spaceship, I forgot.

Well, don't just stand there.

Go hide it in a cloud somewhere.

- That would be quite impossible.

As primitive as the professor's earthly equipment might be

by Martian standards, he'd detect my ship

the moment I tried to move it.

- Oh.

Well, don't turn on the motor.

You know, just wave your finger and levitate it out of here.

- It's taking a catnap, remember?

- Oh, yeah, that's right.

Just never awake when you need it.

Uncle Martin, why couldn't you come down

with something simple, like Beriberi?

- I'm sorry, Tim, but, you know, I can formulate

some alternate plan of action.

You'll have to go down there and engage him by audio.

- Huh?

- Well, in your earthly lingo

play it by ear.

- I'm telling you, Professor, you're just wasting your time.

- Mr. O'Hara, in the past 15 minutes

you have elucidated every conceivable reason

why I shouldn't waste my time making these tests.

Now...

If you're quite through

may I continue wasting my time?

- Professor, I mean, a man of your scientific stature

I don't wanna see you spend all of your time

on such an inconsequential little thing.

- Ah, but O'Hara it's the little things

that lead to the big discoveries.

The magnitude of atomic power began

with a tiny, tiny atom particle.

Who knows what earth-shattering discovery

lies right under our very nose?

- Yes, who knows?

- That's why my motto

is "Seek and you shall find the answer to every problem."

Every part has its cover, you know?

- Yes, but a watched pot never boils, Professor.

(laughs)

- Oh, say, how about "Shoemakers stick to your lass?"

That's what my mother always used to say.

- Please.

If I am to find the reason for this disturbance--

- Oh, well, Tim's uncle, Martin

explained the reason, Professor.

- Oh, he did?

Another Einstein, huh?

- No, no, not Einstein.

O'Hara.

The Einsteins live in the next block.

You see, Martin lives upstairs with Tim

and Martin said it was due to an earth tremor, didn't he?

- Oh, yes, well, you know California, Professor.

A little tremor here, a little tremor there.

Why, we're living on top of a cha-cha-cha.

- Mr. O'Hara, it so happens that this area

is built on solid rock.

It's as immovable as a mountain.

(loud rumbling)

- Professor.

Listen.

That sure sounds like an earth tremor to me.

- We shall soon find out if it is.

Where there's smoke, you know?

- Somebody's cooking and I think it's my uncle Martin.

(dramatic music)

Uncle Martin, Uncle Martin, what happened?

It felt like an earthquake.

- Ah, that's good.

Oh, it was.

Fortunately, not a very serious one

but a quake, nevertheless.

- Oh, well, for a minute there

I thought it was that finger of yours again.

- I'm afraid it was my finger, Tim.

The anti cesium, selenium compound

may deaden temporarily.

But in confining the electrons

the power build-up is magnifying itself.

Naturally, when the compound wears off

the escaping force--

- Could cause an earthquake?

- Or worse.

It could even knock your planet out of orbit.

Although an electron is 1/1,837th of a proton

the M and N shells--

- Uncle Martin, please don't talk to me in shorthand.

What does this mean?

- It means I have to fly my ship out

and get as far away from your planet as possible

before my finger goes off again.

(dramatic music)

I plan to leave as soon as it gets dark.

- Didn't you say that, uh--

that the professor could detect your ship

the minute you tried to move it?

- True, but it's a risk I'll have to take

if your world is to be saved.

- Uh, that one's mine.

- Oh.

- You mean that that finger

could actually end the world?

- I believe Eve needed only one little apple

to get it going.

- How soon do you think you'll be able to come back?

- A good question, Tim.

That is if I'm able to get back at all.

- Do you mean that

you and your ship could go "pow?"

- More like "schwap."

- Well, Uncle Martin, you can't go "shcwap."

- Better I go "schwap" than everyone go "pow."

- Well, you can't.

I mean, well, alright, so you're 400 years old

but you still have a whole lifetime ahead of you.

And besides

we were just getting to know each other.

Or, you know, I mean, you've been helping me and

teaching me things.

- And you've taught me a few things as well, Tim.

But I'm afraid, as someone once put it

"This is bigger than both of us."

(audience laughing)

Tim, Tim, I can't hold on to anything.

- What happened?

- I sprung a leak.

Some of the excess free electrons

are trickling out of my fingers.

- Well, can't you, can't you plug it up?

- I'm afraid not, at least

not the way one normally would a leaky pipe.

Wait a minute.

I could reduce the overload by passing on

the overabundance of free electrons to a weaker source.

Tim, grab hold of my hand, quickly.

- Me?

(stammering) You mean--

- You're the nearest weaker source available.

Now, don't worry, the extra electrons won't affect you.

(gasps)

There, it worked.

- How long do we have to stay this way?

- We'll have to remain joined

until I can take off in my ship.

Now, come on and help me pack.

My shoes and suits are in the closet, there.

(dramatic music)

Tim, Mrs. Brown and the professor are coming up the stairs.

In the living room.

You hold on to my hand and just stand opposite me.

Now, just do as I say.

- Yoo-hoo, Martin, Tim.

- Eh, come in, Loralei.

- What in the world are you doing?

- We're, uh, hand wrestling?

- Uh, yes.

We're trying to do our part in the

National Keep Them Trim Program.

- Ah, well, now that's very patriotic of you (laughs).

Isn't it, Professor?

- Oh, yes, yes.

Now could I get the key?

- Oh, I almost forgot.

The professor would like the key to the garage.

- Garage?

- Yes, he wants to make a thorough search of the premises.

- Oh, he does?

I mean, he does?

- Well, now, that's strange but I can't seem to find my key.

- Key, I can't seem to find mine either.

- Uh, perhaps if you let go of each other's hand

you could check your pockets a little more carefully?

- Let go?

Oh, we, uh, we couldn't do that.

Could we, Uncle Martin? - No, good heavens, no.

We'd lose the grip and once you change your grip

in Indian wrestling, it's an entirely different match.

- Oh, well, don't worry, Martin

I'll hold your grip for you.

- Oh, no, no, no, thank you, Loralei, thank you.

It wouldn't be the same.

Besides, I just remembered I sent my key out

to have a duplicate made.

- Hmm.

- Yes, yes, I sent mine out to have a duplicate made, too

so that if he lost his duplicate

he could borrow my duplicate.

(audience laughing)

- I get the distinct feeling that you gentlemen

are trying to conceal something from me in the garage.

- Oh, nonsense, Professor.

If anything, we desire to cooperate with you

to the fullest extent.

I assure you my nephew will get the key

and open the garage for you the first thing tomorrow.

- First thing tomorrow.

- Very well.

First thing tomorrow.

(audience laughing)

- See you tomorrow, Loralei.

- Oh, I'm not going back to that house of mine

until this is all over.

I'm staying right here.

Even if I have to curl up and sleep in this chair.

(audience laughing) (soft dramatic music)

- Uncle Martin, you are a genius.

- Nonsense, my boy.

It's simply my normal superior Martian intellect.

Loralei is sleep in the living room.

I had to devise some excuse.

If she wakes up and sees you tip-toeing past her this way

she'll merely think you're sleep walking.

You ready? - All set.

(mysterious music)

- [Martin] Here we go.

And be careful, Tim.

I may be a Martian but I don't have eyes

in the back of my head.

- Okay.

(soft mysterious music)

(light switch flickers)

Alright, easy, now.

Easy.

(audience laughing)

- [Martin] Ouch.

- [Tim] What's the matter?

- [Martin] Look where you're going.

You stepped on my foot.

- [Tim] Sorry.

- [Martin] For goodness sake, Tim, watch it.

- [Tim] But I didn't know you were so close.

(sniffles)

Here.

You better move a slight in so I can open this door.

Careful, now, careful.

Wait till I close the door.

Alright, easy, now, easy.

Now, watch out for the stairs.

Careful.

- [Martin] Look out, you're knocking me off my ba--

(loud thud) (dramatic music)

- Uncle Martin?

Uncle Martin.

(thud) (audience laughing)

- [Loralei] What's going on down there?

- It's Mrs. Brown.

Give me your robe.

And hold on to my hand.

- Uncle Martin, look, I'm really sorry

about dropping you down the stairs.

I mean, I didn't mean to.

- Don't cry over spilled milk.

There's enough water in it already.

Just hurry.

- Martin, Tim, what happened?

- Oh, well, you see, Mrs. Brown, um, uh

Uncle Martin tripped.

- Well, what are you doing out at this time of night?

Ah, still, uh...

hand wrestling?

- Of course not.

- Well, what were you two doing out here

catching your death of cold?

- Oh, well, we, uh...

came out to watch the dawn come up.

- At eleven o'clock at night?

- We like to get an early start.

- Well, what Tim means, Professor, is that

we thought we'd take in the stars, you know and study them

and watch them disappear.

- Why, Martin, I didn't know you and Tim

were interested in the stars.

- Oh, yes, Loralei, we're very interested

in the heavenly bodies.

- Oh, really, which one?

I mean, which heavenly body are you studying tonight?

- Oh, uh...

that one.

- Stars?

And it's cloudy and going to rain?

There's something strange about all this.

- Oh, whatever do you mean, Professor?

(rumbling) (dramatic music)

- Professor.

Those sounds.

They're coming from my house again.

Ah!

- Oh, brother.

We're dead now.

- On the contrary, Tim, everything's under control.

- But your hand, Mrs. Brown's house.

- I know.

I did it purposely to get them inside.

- You mean your finger's not out of whack anymore?

- When I pointed it towards the sky

that produced the lightning, which, in turn

reduced the electrical count in my finger

bringing it back to normal.

- Oh, whew.

Then you won't go "schwap."

- Nope.

- Uncle Martin, if I wasn't a grown man

I think I'd cry.

- Thank you, Tim, for your heartfelt concern.

But time is of the essence.

We still have to put Loralei's mind at ease

and solve the professor's problem.

- The professor's problem?

- Mm-hmm.

If we are ever going to get him to leave

we're going to have to satisfy him

with some sort of scientific explanation.

- Well, lets hope it isn't a friendly Martian.

- Have no fear.

My electrical discharge gave me an idea.

I'm going to have the good professor

discover ball lightning.

- Ball lightning?

You're putting me on.

- On the contrary.

It's been a scientific theory here on your earth

for some time.

A rare form of lightning known to lift weights

dive down chimneys.

Now, let's see.

It should be approximately 25 centimeters in diameter

and singly ionized.

(rhythmic whirring)

Round and round it goes.

And it comes out here.

Now, to get it inside the house.

(rhythmic whirring) (dramatic music)

Well, shall we join the others?

(audience laughing)

(dramatic music)

(rhythmic whirring)

My, my, one would think the place was struck by lightning.

- Heavens, what's that?

(rhythmic whirring)

- I don't believe it, I...

I just don't believe it.

- What is it, Professor, some sort of an electrical charge?

- Yes, but what it looks like, I don't believe exists.

There's no such thing as ball lightning.

- You mean that's what's been causing all the damage?

- But ball lightning is only a theory.

- You better look out, Professor.

Here comes that theory after you.

- Professor!

(loud boom)

Professor, are you alright?

- Yes, yes, I--

yes, I think so.

You know, for 30 years, every night when I come home

my wife says, "What's new?"

(laughs) Oh, boy, will I have an answer tonight (laughing).

(audience laughing)

Oh, boy (laughing).

(theme music)

(dramatic tune)