Original subtitles

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)

(SNICKERING)

-(EXPLOSIONS) -(CHAOTIC MUSIC PLAYING)

-(GROANS) -(WHALE SPLATS)

Hey, hey, hey, race fans.

We're here at the Wacky Race Track

with the frankly horrifying aftermath of Dick Dastardly's

latest series of cheats, machinations, and booby traps

during today's race.

Apparently, he even trained a group of delinquent pigs

to wear jetpacks and fire fried eggs.

Ow! Dastardly has really topped himself this time.

-(BEEPING) -(SCREAMS)

(STATIC)

(TIRES SCREECH)

(LAUGHING OBNOXIOUSLY) I win!

I finally win!

(SNICKERING)

Come, my canine companion,

we must claim my champion's crown!

(GROANS AND ROARS)

(SHIVERING)

I believe that trophy belongs to me, thank you, my good man.

-Hello? Hello? Is this thing on? -(MICROPHONE FEEDBACK SQUEALS)

Ladies and gentlemen,

I can only imagine how exciting it must be for you

to witness my victory with your own eyes.

-Mwah! -Hold it right there, Dicky.

You can't take that trophy after the underhanded things you did to win this race!

Perfect, you're blaming me

for those pesky little acts of nature?

You dropped a fishing boat full of fat-free cottage cheese on Tiny!

He's watching his weight!

-(PIRATE MUSIC PLAYING) -(CLATTERING)

We can't find Davy Bones' head!

Why clowns? You know I'm afraid of clowns!

(EERIE WHIRRING)

(SCREAMS)

And I'm afraid of garlic pizza!

-(EERIE WHIRRING) -(WHIMPERS)

A few harmless practical jokes.

Good-natured ribbing between competitors.

Oh, um...

(LAUGHING NERVOUSLY) Hello, Mrs. Barnstorm.

Dastardly, I have finally had enough

of your constant cheating.

From this moment forward

-you are officially banned from all Wacky Racing... -(ALL GASP)

...competion, events, etcetera, etcetera... Forever!

Oh, um, Mrs. Barnstorm, maybe you should think this over.

I know when I'm not wanted. I can take a hint.

I don't need a piano to fall upon my head.

(SINISTER MUSIC PLAYING)

I will find gainfully gratifying employment

in other endeavors than racing.

Madam, I wish you good day.

-(PIANO CHIMES) -Oh, my.

(STRING MUSIC PLAYS)

-(UPBEAT MUSIC PLAYING) -Greetings!

-(COMPUTER BEEPS) -Hi, there!

Welcome to Happy Campers Career Counseling

where we're not happy campers

until we find a perfect place for you.

How may I help you?

This is an auspicious day for you, my good woman,

for today Richard Milhous Dastardly

is available to consider suitable employment offers

commensurate with my stature, experience, and good breeding.

Well, super-duper!

Then we shouldn't have any problem

finding the perfect place for you.

-Okay, I think this job should fill the bill. -(COMPUTER BEEPS)

(ICE CREAM TRUCK JINGLE PLAYING)

-(LAUGHS) -And what may I

create for you, confectionary consumers?

A vanilla cone?

Vanilla? Oh, how drole.

I'm giving you our signature specialty ice cream instead. Muttley!

Huh?

DASTARDLY: One broccoli-fudge ripple ice cream with sardines.

There you go.

This cone is covered in dirt and dog hair.

So it is.

That will be an extra $4.

(CRYING)

Muttley, the street urchins

look like they're about to attack.

Ready the laser cannon.

(OBJECTS CLATTERING)

Boiling oil?

Wasp slingshots?

Candy-flavored harpoons?

Muttley, bring me a weapon, any weapon!

-(WHIRRING) -(CHILDREN SCREAMING)

(CLAMORING)

Uh-oh!

(ALL SCREAMING)

(SEAT BELTS CLICK)

(TIRES SCREECHING)

(ICE CREAM JINGLE PLAYING)

(ALL SCREAMING)

DASTARDLY: What kind of ice cream truck

doesn't carry basic defenses against children?

-(ICE CREAM TRUCK CRASHES) -(PUNCHES THUDDING)

(ENGINES REVVING)

Tiny bored.

Me too.

-Arr. -(SNORING)

(BORED SIGH)

(UNENTHUSIASTICALLY) Yay.

(YAWNS)

Kind of a dead race today, isn't it?

(TIRES SCREECHING)

(SIGHS)

I wonder what Dastardly's doing?

Probably something really exciting.

(HAPPY MUSIC PLAYING)

Look, I'm really more of a race driver.

A driver, huh?

-(COMPUTER BEEPS) -Oh, what luck, Mr. Dysentery

I have a job right here that involves racing!

Racing against the clock.

(METAL MUSIC PLAYING)

(TIRES SCREECH)

-(TIRES SCREECH) -(GARBAGE CAN CLATTERS)

-(CHILDREN SCREAMING INSIDE) -Yes?

Mama Angioplasty's Perfectly Prepared Pizza Pies,

guaranteed delivery in under four minutes.

I ordered that pizza for my child's birthday eight hours ago!

You have a point?

I've been trapped in a house surrounded by 12 third graders

with low blood sugar for eight hours!

Where have you been?

I'm glad you asked.

-WOMAN: You took my dinner to the beach? -It was hot.

You went to Spain and Paris?

DASTARDLY: Where better for Muttley to pop the question?

Your dog is engaged to my pizza?

Well, more engaged to be engaged, really.

-I don't think the pizza's family entirely approves. -(MOANING)

Oh, that's it. You just come in here

and explain to my son's guests why their dinner is so late.

I certainly shall!

After all, what does Dick Dastardly

have to fear from...

(ALL GASP)

(ALL SCREAMING)

Children. Drat.

Cheese it, Muttley!

(ALL SCREAMING)

Ha-ha! Looks like we've given

those repugnant rug rats the slip this time, Muttley!

(TIRES SCREECHING)

(MEAN MACHINE CRASHES)

-(GARBLED ICE CREAM JINGLE PLAYING) -Double-dipped drat!

Well, now, gosh and golly,

I got to tell you, Mr. Dim Sum,

I never met anyone

quite like you. (LAUGHS)

I am one-of-a-kind

(CHUCKLES) Yeah. Well, I've got a job here

that's not very exciting but at least it involves driving.

Oh, is it stock cars? Hot rods?

Drag racing? Oh, let it be drag racing!

(TEDIOUS MUSIC PLAYING)

(GROANS)

I wonder how the Wacky Races are going without us.

Ah!

Excuse me, driver, but you missed my stop.

Oh, my gosh, I know who you are!

You're Dick Dastardly!

I do answer to that appellation.

Could you give me an autograph...

Oh, but of course.

PASSENGER: ...from Peter Perfect?

(MUFFLED GROANING)

(GROWLING)

(STEAM HISSING)

(SCREAMS)

-(TENSE MUSIC PLAYING) -These jobs are not making me happy.

(LAUGHS NERVOUSLY) Well, I know the feeling, Mr. Death-Hugger.

Tell you what, I saw a help wanted sign in a window

of a burger joint down the block.

Why don't you go check that out?

(CLATTERS)

(DINGS)

Number 37. Burger up.

This isn't right.

I ordered

the Corpulent Country Carnivore Super Stomach Stuffing Sunday Special

with pickles, parsnips, parsley, peppers,

pimentos, pork-pie, and parboiled persimmons.

-Madam, that is the Corpulent Country Carnivore... -(CAT HISSING)

Super Stomach Stuffing Sunday Special

with pickles, parsnips, parsley, peppers,

pimentos, pork-pie, and parboiled persimmons.

-Where's the pickle? -Pickle?

-Yeah, it's supposed to come with a... -(TEETH CRACK, GROANS)

You want a pickle?

-(PANTING) -Um...

(GULPS) No.

Here are some pickles!

-(EXCLAIMS) -(ALL SCREAM)

And ketchup! Don't forget the ketchup!

And mustard!

Forks, spoons,

how about Limburger cheese?

Llama tongues, rendered animal fat,

head cheese, yes, yes, take the head cheese!

(LAUGHS MANIACALLY)

-He's gone crazy! -MAN: Get out of my way!

(CUSTOMERS CLAMORING)

(ALL SCREAMING)

(COW MOOS)

-(ADVENTUROUS MUSIC PLAYING) -Ah! Everybody has the perfect place

waiting for them. (LAUGHS NERVOUSLY)

The perfect place for that walking disaster is six feet...

-Ah! -Going somewhere?

Yes. Yes, I am closing the business

and moving to Kathmandu to groom yaks.

And I'm allergic to yaks!

But what about your promise to find the perfect place for me?

-(TENSE MUSIC PLAYING) -(LAUGHS MOCKINGLY) The only perfect place

for a lunatic like you

would be surrounded by other complete maniacs.

Someplace completely and totally insane. Someplace...

Wacky. Yes, I know.

Come, Muttley. I'm afraid this gentle woman can't help us.

(BABBLING MADLY)

(CACKLES) Oh, he thinks he can get a job?

(CONTINUES BABBLING)

That was a nice win today, Penelope.

Yes, ma'am, if you say so.

-(SOMBER MUSIC PLAYING) -Why are y'all so glum?

Dastardly's gone and our raceways

are 100% cheating-free!

They're also free of the thrills, chills, and spills

the danger and excitement of the sport men call racing!

Racing just isn't the same without Dastardly.

Well, I don't like his cheating

but I don't like seeing my racers unhappy either.

Let me think this over.

Hmm, I'm still thinking.

(CIRCUS MUSIC PLAYING)

(GIRL SCREAMS)

Why?

(SNICKERING)

Keep the line moving.

-What is it? -It's a stick.

A balloon stick?

Fine. It's a hot dog.

Move along.

Oh, well, if it isn't the itty-bitty-pretty-petty

holier-than-thou pity committee!

Don't be a negative Nellie, we're here with good news.

Mrs. Barnstorm says you can come back to racing!

-(TRIUMPHANT MUSIC PLAYING) -Huh?

I have grown accustomed to the laughter of children.

(CHILDREN SCREAMING)

Fine, I'll come back. Let's go, Muttley.

-(ZAPS) -(BOYS GASP)

-(SNICKERING) -(BOYS GROAN)

(EXCITING MUSIC PLAYING)

Prepare to consume my carbon emissions,

you cattle-walling compost heaps!

On your mark, get set, go!

(TIRES SCREECHING)

BRICK: And it looks like Dick Dastardly

has chained the other racers to an ice cream truck.

-(MONKEYS SQUAWKING) -And unleashed an armada of flying monkeys

throwing exploding coconuts.

It's good to have you back, old buddy.

Now this is how racing should be.

How did you get the conuts to explode?

All conuts explode if you throw them right.

Isn't that right, Muttley? Huh?

Muttley!

(WEDDING MARCH PLAYING)

-(SMOOCHING) -GIRL: Why?

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