Original subtitles

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)

(SNICKERING)

Hiya, wacky sports fans,

Big Brick Crashman here in sunny California

for our annual Mother's Day race.

Bricky, baby, you look so thin.

-Here, you eat something. -Mom!

I need to announce the race.

(ENGINES REVVING)

Mrs. Pitstop, you must be mighty proud of your girl.

Racin' is not a suitable profession for a true lady.

Ma! Not now, okay?

Mr. Crashman, don't you believe

children born with large heads

should be a mite more respectful of their mother's wishes?

-Um... -I sure do.

Darlin', I still don't see why you don't settle down

and leave all this for the boys.

What are you? A TV development executive?

Ma, I like to race.

It's giving you stress lines, dear.

It's not the racing doing that.

Hi, there, America the beautiful,

I'm Philomena Perfect, ping, proud ma

of my perfect little Petey boy here.

PETER: Mom, I can't drive when you do that.

PHILOMENA: Your eyes are so big and blue when you're terrified.

Oh, look, how nice you made that last turn.

I'm so proud. Here, let's take a selfie.

-Smile. -(EXCLAIMS)

BRICK: And here's I.Q. Ickly

with his high-powered tech-industry-entrepreneur mother, Suzie Q.

Alas, my maternal unit is too busy

to attend the race today.

But, I'm holographically here to support my prodigy progeny.

BRICK: Next, The Gruesome Twosome with their mummy.

Whoa! She really is a mummy.

Well, what'd you expect?

BRICK: And saving the worst for last...

I must say, Mrs. Dastardly,

there's quite a family resemblance.

-Really? I don't see it. -(SCREAMS)

Richard has always taken after his father,

who was also a disdainfully dreary disappointment.

Wasn't he, Kitty Bitty?

(MEOWS)

Razzle-frazzle, razzle-frazzle.

(TIRES SCREECHING)

DASTARDLY: Out of my way, you undersized urchin.

Don't you have some sort of trick or cheat

to get that brainy brat out of the boulevard?

Mother, no! Don't press the...

(MEOWS)

MUTTLEY: Razzle-frazzle...

(SNICKERS)

(ENGINES ROARING)

Penelope, you're driving too fast.

Well, sit up straight.

Pull that hair out of your face.

And look out!

I saw him, Mother.

Isn't that against the rules?

Rules? We don't need no stinkin' rules.

(ENGINE ROARS)

PHILOMENA: Oh, darling, why don't the other racers just let you win?

Can't they see your big, beautiful chin dimple?

No, Mom, that would take all the fun out of it.

Low bridge!

Oh, Mummy, it's so nice catching up with you.

Really, we should dig you up more than once every century.

Though all that beauty sleep really shows.

Hurry, you flea-bitten flophound!

This bodaciously balanced boulder

will start an auspiciously-timed avalanche,

causing those rapacious racers to stop in their routes

and mollify my malicious matron.

Assuming she is assuagable.

Oh, that reminds me.

Where is my frustrating forebear?

I'm right here, my prevaricating progeny.

If you want a cheat done right, do it yourself.

Isn't that right, Kitty Bitty?

(SNICKERS)

-(GRUNTS) -Drat!

-(MUTTLEY MUTTERING) -Curses!

I.Q.: C.A.R., analyze the route.

C.A.R.: (IN A JACK NICHOLSON VOICE)Don't look now, sweet knees,

but there's some mighty big rocks headed our way.

Why do you sound like that?

I upgraded C.A.R.'s AI, dear.

I liked her the way she was.

This is better.

What do you want, kid?

Um, emergency evasive thrusters.

You can't handle emergency evasive thrusters!

-(THUDS) -(YELLS)

Here's Johnny!

I liked C.A.R. better the old way.

-SUZIE: This is better. -(EXCLAIMING)

Richard, you got in the way of my avalanche.

Can't you do anything right?

You're building a roadside food stand?

Hmm, no. No, no, no, no, Mummy, it's a trap.

When the racers stop for a snack, I pull this lever...

MUTTLEY: Razzle, razzle. (SCREAMS)

(WATER SPLASHES)

Those sponge-brained spider monkeys

will never get past this pit stop!

And speaking of pit stop, here comes

that simpering Southern belle. Mother, hide.

Oh, look, Mama, a little old roadside stand.

We're so far ahead, we can stop for a bite.

Don't eat too much. You'll blow up like a balloon

and you'll never find a husband if you're gassy.

-Ugh, Mother! -It's true.

Ask Annie Burpsbottom.

(BELCHES)

You want roadside food? I am your dude.

What will it be today, stranger I have never met before?

Oh, hello, there. Bonjour.

I'd like a little old salad, some turkey jerky...

And a nice cool lemonade for Mama.

We are all out.

May I suggest today's special?

Lobster claw. (GRUNTS)

Aw, I'm allergic to shellfish.

-Thanks anyway. -(GRUNTS)

It looks like you failed again.

-Muttley, you flea-bitten furball! -(MEOWS)

-You must have broken my trap. -Huh?

MUTTLEY: Razzle-razzle...

(GASPS) Drat! Drat! Drat!

Really, dear, I wish you'd slow down.

Driving this fast could be considered rude.

Mama, if I slow down I won't win the race!

You're not gonna win anyway, sweetie.

Not against my perfect little boy.

-Gun it, baby. -Yes, Mother.

(GROANS)

(BONES CREAK)

Yes, Mummy. I'm going as fast as I can, Mummy.

(GROWLS)

(TIRES SCREECHING)

I thought I taught you to cheat better than this.

But, Mother, dear,

this plan will surely work. Ready, Muttley?

Ignite the incendiaries.

(SNICKERING)

(LAUGHS) Blocked!

The pass is completely impassable.

Victory is as good as mine.

Don't you think this trap would have worked better

if you and that micro-brained mutt

had waited until you had passed through the tunnel

-before blocking it? -What? Oh, drat!

(TIRES SCREECHING)

PENELOPE: Peter, you cut me off!

I cut you off? You were driving like a maniac.

A crazed pink maniac.

Oh, you all are driving me bats. See?

Racers bad.

If you would all just lose like you're supposed to,

I wouldn't be trapped in here with you.

May I remind you this predicament

is all your fault in the first place.

C.A.R.: You tell 'em, pilgrim.

Will you stop talking like that?

(ALL SHOUTING)

(GRUNTS)

(ALL GASPING)

(GASPS) Mummy?

(GRUNTS)

(ENGINES REVVING)

Sorry, kids, but we can't wait for you to work things out.

See you at the finish line, darlin'.

If a mother wants a race done, she needs to do it herself.

-Right, Kitty Bitty? -(SNICKERS)

Mothers, start your engines.

Wait a second. What's going on?

Our mothers are finishing the race without us?

(ALL LAUGHING AND CHEERING)

(GRUNTS)

Did not see this coming.

As the racers approach the finish line,

it looks like this race is gonna be...

PHILOMENA: By Amelia Earhart's bursting barnstorm bloomers, I'm gonna win!

(WHOOPING)

Not on your jalopy, Perfect!

DELILAH: Eat my dastardly dust, you malicious mummies!

PETUNIA: I'm in it to win it. Out of my way. Yee-haw!

SUZIE: I'm actualizing my potential

to beat you all down, old school.

(MUMMY GROWLING)

It's a photo finish.

But who won? Let's look at the videotape...

Why, it's... It's Petunia Pitstop.

Winning by a hair. Literally.

(AUDIENCE CHEERING)

Boo-yeah!

♪ Oh, yeah, get busy, I won

♪ 'Cause I'm your mama I'm your mama

♪ It's your mama 'Cause I'm your ma ♪

(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)

PETUNIA: Hey, remember us?

Oh, hey, kids. Good to see you.

Did you have a nice day?

I can't believe you left us behind.

We had to walk all this way here.

37 miles! Look how small my legs are.

Oh, my feet!

You could at least have come back for us, you know?

Yes. (LAUGHS) We could have.

-What happened? -We finished the race.

I have to admit, it was quite stimulating.

I understand why you love racing so much now, dear.

You do? Oh, well, that's nice. I guess.

As a matter of fact, we had such a good time

that we're gonna come back for this little old race every year.

(ALL GROANING)

(SNARLS)

(SNICKERING)

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