All language subtitles for My.Favorite.Martian.S02E19.Uncle.Martin.and.the.Identified.Flying.Object.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-NTb_Subtítulos01.ENG

(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)