Original subtitles

(SNICKERS)

I.Q., darling, you are a grade-A certified genius.

Have a cookie.

Mmm. Gluten-y.

Ow.

(GROANING IN PAIN)

Drat. (WHIMPERING)

I.Q., dear,

I don't understand why I need to wear more caps.

Isn't my helmet good enough?

No, not "more caps."

"Mo-cap," a common abbreviation

for motion-capture technology.

Those cameras digitally record your movements

so they can be used in a new Wacky Races video game.

What does having a safe dropped on me have to do with driving?

I.Q.:Oh, we haven't started recording you yet.

(SNICKERING)

I hate you.

It's a great way for your fans

to feel like they are really part of the action,

and makes me a load of casharino.

Oh, we get paid for doing this?

(LAUGHS) Not technically.

You see, Wacky Races Unlimited had you sign contracts

that clearly state no matter how much extra work you do,

you never get paid any more.

But, doesn't that remove incentive to do anything

then the least work possible?

Oh, Petey darling,

you just get ready to look pretty for the cameras, 'kay?

You bet. How's this?

(GRUNTING)

Perfect as always, honey bun.

Mrs. Barnstorm.

I'm ready for my close-up.

(WOMAN SHRIEKS)

Huh? Oh, no, dear.

You're just voice talent.

No one wants to see you.

You work in the booth.

(EERIE GROWLS)

BRICK:Isn't that where the dingoes live?

(GROWLING)

But what about my fans?

(CHUCKLES) "Fans." That's cute.

Now, shoo, or we'll replace you with someone younger

who does an impression of you.

Oh, please, anything but that.

(SNICKERING)

Show business...

Seems hard.

Well, it's better than making cartoons.

Now, that's brutal.

(DISTANT HOWL)

So everything I'm doing is recorded in that little old computer?

Indubitably.

Muttley, my canine conspirator... (GRUNTS)

Will you stop that?

Now, clearly, whoever claims the computerized conclusions

on that clanking contraption

will accrue clandestine clues

as to how to completely conquer

my colossally contemptuous competitors.

Huh?

Steal me that computer's hard drive,

you malingering mongrel.

(GRUMBLING)

Y'all know what would be lots of fun?

If someone pressed this here button

and y'all were sucked into that machine

and forced to compete in a race

against an all-powerful, unbeatable opponent.

I don't think you're using the word "fun" correctly.

(CHUCKLES) Well, I meant...

Fun for me.

(LAUGHS)

Pandora?

Sister, what are you up to now?

(SCREAMING)

(ALL SCREAMING)

Good day to be me.

(ALL SCREAMING)

Oh, where are we?

Steubenville, Ohio?

Does this look like Steubenville, Ohio to you?

I don't know, I've never been to Steubenville.

I hear nice things, though.

You incoherent incubus.

We're trapped inside that preposterous prodigy's video game.

Game on, boys and girls.

Oh, wait, does this video game make my head look big?

Let us out of here immediately.

Sorry, Dicky Do,

but the only way out of there is if you win the game against me.

And I have a list of cheats.

Panny, why are you doing this?

To finally beat you, sister dear.

Darling, you have to work on your competitiveness.

Little weird doll-girl says, "what."

-What?-Ha! Nailed it.

So, we're gonna race you?

Well, not exactly me.

PANDORA:You have to beat...

ALL: Us.

(GROANS) Where is that meretricious mutt when I need him?

-(TELEPHONE RINGING) -Huh? Hmm.

DASTARDLY:Muttley, I'm trapped in this computer!

Get me out of here.

I don't know how, you half-brained harlequin.

Just start pressing buttons!

Hmmm.

On your mark.

Get set.

I guess we have no choice but to play Pandora's game.

Okay, sis, it is so on.

Go.

Have to admit,

I like this track.

You said it, Penny.

Tiny like video game.

Huh?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

(GRUNTS)

Razzle-frazzle.

Woo-hoo.

Ha-ha.

(GRUNTS) Ha!

Hmm. They're better than I thought.

Okay, let's try one of these cheats.

Hmm. That one.

This calls for a little boost.

May have been a touch too much boost.

Hmm.

(GROANS)How does he do that?

Are you all right, Peter?

I'm Perfect.

(GRUNTING) Razzle-frazzle.

You think you're so clever.

Let's see you get through this.

TINY:Danger.

This looks like a job for Bone Daddy.

You called?

We need to clear the way.

Why, of course, boys.

I'm always happy to help you get ahead.

Smashing fun.

Rats.

Meh.

Razzle-frazzle. Razzle-frazzle. Razzle-frazzle.

Hey.

(SNICKERING)

PENELOPE: Whoa! Help.

PETER: What's going on?

Everything is dark and twisted and terrifying.

I love it.

Uh-oh. It looks like something has reprogrammed the central processor.

Pandora, did you do this?

No, I'm not even in control anymore.

Well, then, who is?

ALL: Muttley!

What do you think you're doing?

This is my--

PENELOPE: Pandora!

TINY: Stop.

Hey!

(YELLS)

(SNICKERING)

(ALL GASPING)

(LAUGHING)

Well done, Muttley.

You've taken control of the game.

Now, I'm sure to win.

What? No. No!

What are you doing?

Oh, my stars and garters.

Stop this immediately, you mutinous mongrel! Drat.

PETER: Let's get out of here.

PENELOPE:What is wrong with Muttley?

I.Q.:I don't think that's exactly Mr. Muttley.

The computer has reprogrammed itself

with a download of Muttley's personality matrix.

That's what I thought, too.

Oh, drat.

But why is he zapping Dastardly?

Because he can.

Purple man rude.

I think the game computer absorbed all of Muttley's

repressed subconscious resentments towards Mr. Dastardly.

"Resentments"?

Why would that malodorous mutt have resentments towards me?

What?

Drat.

Maybe my sister can help.

(EXCLAIMING AND GRUNTING)

(SCREAMING)

This is why I don't hang out here very much.

(ALL EXCLAIMING)

I.Q.: Look out, guys!

Incoming.

Watch it.

Faster.

Come on.

Sweet pea pudding and potato pie.

(ALL EXCLAIMING AND SCREAMING)

-BELLA: Dead end. -PETER: How do we stop them?

Maybe if Mr Dastardly apologizes for all the mean things he's done,

Muttley's resentments will dissipate.

Me? Apologize?

To that sniveling, simpering, subhuman sycophant?

Razzle-frazzle.

Never.

You got to apologize, Dicky.

Dastardly, say you're sorry.

I'm not.

Razzle-razzle-razzle.

We'll be blasted out of existence.

Small price to pay.

You'll be blasted, too.

Oh. Ah. Well...

In that case, I suppose on some level,

in certain insignificant ways,

there are perhaps a few things I might have done

that may have been somewhat slightly inconsidered.

Razzle-razzle.

That is the worst apology I've ever heard.

Well, it's my first one and I don't mean it.

ALL: Dastardly!

I'm sorry.

(SNICKERING)

(ALL YELLING)

We're out.

Dicky, you did it.

Where's Muttley and Pandora?

(BOTH GROANING)

Oh, good. They're both safe and sound.

This is safe and sound?

Let's take care of that game thingy.

DASTARDLY: Muttley, you traitorous terrier.

So, everything's back to normal

as we wrap another exciting adventure of the Wacky Races.

-(BARKING) -(BRICK SCREAMS)

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