Original subtitles

THEME SONG: Toxic Crusaders.

Toxic Crusaders.

I had no friends, no girls would hug me

until I got radioactive ugly.

Toxic Crusaders.

Toxic Crusaders.

I live in a dump cause the rent's real low.

Got a little pet Blobbie, and he loves me so.

Toxic Crusaders.

Toxic Crusaders.

Now me and the boys fight against wrong, though we're

hideously deformed.

Hey, I'm sitting on top of the world.

With my mop, tutu, and girl.

Whoa!

Toxic Crusaders.

Toxic Crusaders.

Toxic!

[WHISTLE BLOWING]

NARRATOR: It all started when the Toxic Crusaders were

getting some well-deserved playtime with a friendly game

of football.

Ow!

Ow!

Oh!

Ouch!

Woah, dude.

That was my hand that got bit,

Sorry.

It's your call.

That's better.

Yow!

Woah.

Woah.

Toxie!

What is it?

My Tromatons are signaling that something evil is nearby.

Jeepers.

And I was hoping it was my new perfume.

No, Yvonne.

This is something even worse.

Uh-oh, what have we here?

It's some kind of insect.

Maybe it's a free sample of a new product, Bug in a Bag.

In which case--

[SCREAMING]

Speaking of bugs, Czar Zosta, ruler of Smogula,

was driving Doctor Killemoff buggy.

Killemoff, I'm sick and tired of your ineptitude

when it comes to handling the Toxic Crusaders.

Do you have any idea how many times you've screwed up?

I'm not an accountant, your larva-ship.

I'm a ruthless interplanetary invader.

Not anymore you're not.

Your replacement should be arriving momentarily.

You're replacing me with a bag of garbage?

Not garbage, GarBage.

General GarBage to you.

Yeah, don't worry boss, I'll get

rid of this talking termite.

A talking termite, am I?

[SCREAMING]

Now that's a ruthless interplanetary invader.

Killemoff, from now on, GarBage is in charge.

But Your High and Mightiness.

Don't argue with me, Killemoff.

Just follow orders.

Ooh, I've got to be holographing off now.

I'm taking my wife to the movies tonight.

Don't want to miss the cartoon.

Killemoff, you fouled up again.

That's why I'm taking over this operation.

What operation is that, General?

As if I didn't already know.

The most frightening, blood-curdling

plan I've ever conceived.

The invasion of the biddy snatchers.

Even as we speak, hundreds of my crack infiltrators

are arriving in Tromaville, each one individually

sealed for your protection.

Each infiltrator will take a nip of a sweet

little grey-haired grandmother.

You bug, skidaddle.

Ow!

You bit me!

It will then genetically duplicate the old biddy,

creating a perfect clone.

Except for the four arms.

The system still has a few bugs in it.

Oh, my stars [INAUDIBLE].

And that, Killemoff, is my plan in a nutshell.

In a nutshell is where it belongs.

But why little old ladies, General?

Think about it.

Who would ever suspect some sweet,

blue-haired grandmother is actually

a Smogulan infiltrator!

I hate to admit it.

It's an old trick.

But it just might work.

Your job is to make sure that the windows of every old lady

in town are broken so that my infiltrators can

enter their homes and become their clones.

Yeah, yeah, we'll take care of it.

Until I can figure out a way to take care of of you.

Just think.

Soon my biddies will control the cities.

[EVIL LAUGH]

Yeah, yeah, big deal.

While all this was going on, I was

at Mom's house for our regular Wednesday

night dinner and lecture.

Toxie, darling, don't slurp your soup.

And sit up straight.

You'll grow all crooked.

Mom.

I'm hideously deformed, remember?

That's no excuse for bad posture.

Uh oh, there go my Tromatons.

Something evil is afoot.

Whatever it is, it can wait.

First you'll eat something, and then you'll save the world.

[GLASS SHATTERING]

All right, only 212 more houses to go!

[TIRES SQUEALING]

What was that noise, darling?

There's a humongous rock in my soup.

All right, so I'm not the greatest cook in the world.

No, Mom, someone tossed it in through the window.

Now why would anyone want to do a thing like that?

I don't know.

But I have a feeling it has something

to do with the main plot of this story.

I was right, because at the very moment,

Bonehead and Psycho were breaking

all the windows at the Biddy City Retirement Village.

Thanks for the great dinner and the nagging, Mom.

I'll come by and fix your window tomorrow.

Bring lots of band-aids.

You know what a klutz you are.

Children.

They fill your life with joy.

Hm.

This reminds me, I haven't made matzah balls in ages.

No wonder my Tromatons were acting up.

Little did I realize that my very own mom was

about to be the next victim of the invasion

of the biddy snatchers.

Oy!

Tomorrow when Toxie comes to fix the window

I'll ask him to bring some of Junkyard's flea powder.

Huh?

Where did you come from?

And where did you buy that dress?

No!

Stop!

[INAUDIBLE]

Ah!

Mom was being carried off on her own clone.

The only good part was, I couldn't make out

a single word she was saying.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

General GarBage's plan was right on schedule.

All over Tromaville, his infiltrator clones

were carrying their innocent biddy victims

to a place of unspeakable evil, Mayor

Grody's office at City Hall.

Aha!

My infiltrators have arrived, and right on schedule.

Pay attention, Killemoff.

You're about to see a group of tough, highly-disciplined

troops in action.

[INDISTINCT CHATTER]

Mom.

What are you doing here?

I'm not your mom, you fat, sweaty, wart-faced pug.

That's funny.

You sound just like her.

I'm your mom, you fat, sweaty, wart-faced pug.

I can't believe you let them treat

your poor old mother like this.

I told you to move to Florida.

Grody, you bum.

When my son Toxie hears about this,

he'll tattoo his tutu all over your tumtum.

Forget it, darling, you're wasting your breath.

Enough of this.

Lock up your originals and report back here for briefing.

More schlepping?

Oy!

And this one weighs a ton.

Just do as you're told.

[INTERPOSING VOICES]

Troops, it's time for Operation Kvetch.

Now get out there and nag, criticize and complain.

I want this town cleared in 48 hours.

Now get moving.

General, darling, couldn't we stop

for some Danish and coffee, hm?

The answer is no.

Now forward!

March!

Left.

Left.

I left my kids [INAUDIBLE].

Right.

Right.

[INAUDIBLE] right.

There, Killemoff.

After a couple of days of nonstop whining,

Tromaville will be ripe for a Smogulant invasion.

Yeah, but what if the Toxic Crusaders'

strange mutant abilities let them defeat the infiltrator

bugs and the real biddies bust out of jail

and kick butt on the fake biddies.

Killemoff, what is this blisterhead babbling about?

Ignore him, General.

I always do.

And see where it's gotten you.

Talk about bad timing.

Mother's Day was coming up.

And since none of them had mothers of their own,

Yvonne and the guys were sitting around discussing

what to get my mom.

I think flowers would be nice.

And upset Tromaville's delicate ecological balance?

Oh-ho, no way.

How about a couple of cases of raw hot dogs?

It's a gift that keeps on giving.

I know.

We'll buy her an encyclopedia.

Forget it, dude.

She's too old to ride any kind of cycle.

Hi, Yvonne.

What brings you to the toxic dump?

I just came over to help the boys pick out a Mother's Day

gift for your mom.

Did you say-- [STAMMERING]

Toxie!

What's going on?

Yeah, what's shaking?

I mean besides you.

Thanks, mop.

I needed that.

What happened to you, Toxie?

I don't know.

When I heard the word M-O-M. I went into full Tromaton alert.

Which means--

That something awful has happened to Mom.

See.

It happens every time I say the word Mo-- [STAMMERING].

Right.

We get to the point.

Let me say it another way.

Fellas, you-know-who is in serious trouble.

I must go find her.

Toxie, while you're looking for you-know-who,

keep an eye out for Mom!

[STAMMERING]

Teeheehee! Oops.

Sorry.

Meanwhile, the infiltrator clones

began driving the good people of Tromaville

out of the city with their constant nagging.

You snore like a hippopotamus with a sinus condition.

Not only that, but you dropped crumbs all over the carpet.

No one was safe from the endless nagging,

not even Lloyd and his family.

--[INAUDIBLE], is it too much to ask that you feed

my grandchildren a proper diet?

Nutrition is very important.

A five-year-old can't live on junk food and television,

you know.

It looked like Operation Kvetch was a complete success.

Soon there'd be no one left to defend

Tromaville against invasion but the Toxic Crusaders.

Well gentlemen, it looks like Operation

Kvetch is a complete success.

Soon there'll be no one left to defend Tromaville

against our invasion.

Except the Toxic Crusaders.

The who?

The Toxic Crusaders.

A group of hideously deformed creatures of superhuman size

and strength.

Ah, they're no match for my highly-trained infiltrators.

Mayor Grody, I need a roadblock.

Aye, aye, General.

You came to the right place.

He wants a blocked road, not a blockhead.

Rah!

One day I'm gonna rip your android head off

and use it for a bowling ball.

Believe me, you'll never miss it.

Mop and I were on the way to-- you-know-who's house

to check things out when suddenly

here came Mayor Grody's limo, and headed straight for me!

Young man, you're in big trouble.

You mean aside from being a toxically-disfigured mutant?

Worse.

As the head of the Biddy Committee

to Keep Tromaville Pretty, you and the other Toxic Crusaders

have been declared too ugly to be allowed

to live within the city limits.

What exactly does that mean?

It means you and your toxically-mutated friends

are being deported.

Eh, I guess it could be worse.

To Siberia.

No it couldn't.

[MOP WHIMPERING]

My mom's on that committee.

I bet if she were here she'd have

something to say about this.

You're darn right she would.

Mom!

What happened to you?

You grew two more arms.

So?

What's the big deal?

One year when you were little you grew two more feet.

Mom, tell me you don't want me to leave.

Siberia is that way.

Now get going.

OK, Mom.

If that's what you really want, I'll go.

This is so sad.

I think I'm going to cry.

Good thing there's a commercial coming up

so I can blow my nose.

After Mom broke my heart, I had to go back to the toxic dump

and break a few of my own.

Siberia?

That's what Mom said.

And you know me, I never disobey my mom.

After that came the saddest thing I ever had to do,

say goodbye to my girlfriend Yvonne.

Hi, Yvonne.

Bye, Yvonne.

Jeepers, that was a short visit.

This isn't a visit, Yvonne.

It's goodbye.

The Toxic Crusaders have to move to Siberia.

It's some new law about us being too ugly.

How cruel!

With all those biddies driving everyone out of Tromaville,

it's gonna be awful dead around here.

Maybe I'll leave town, too.

Hey, I got an idea!

Why don't you come to Siberia with us?

Nah.

It wouldn't work for my songwriting career.

Nothing rhymes with Siberia, except hysteria.

Now Miami, there's a great town to write songs about.

You've got your sammy and your hammy and mammy,

not to mention clammy and Alabammy.

And in a stretch, salammi.

So there it was.

I was going to Siberia, but my heart was on its way to Miami.

Blast it!

General GarBage's crackpot plan is actually working.

People are leaving Tromaville in droves.

You should be happy, boss.

We've been trying to clear out Tromaville

for this entire series.

Yes, but we were supposed to do it,

not some one-shot guest villain.

Yeah.

If General GarBage succeeds, we're out of a job.

I never thought I'd say this, but we

need the Toxic Crusaders.

Ew.

Gross.

Forget it.

Toxie's mom's clone kicked them all out of Tromaville.

They're moving to Siberia.

Ew.

Grosser.

I'll never understand why that hideously deformed creature

of superhuman size and strength always listens to his mother.

I want you to bring the Toxic Crusaders to Island City.

If we're going to defeat GarBage and his army of biddies,

we'll need their help.

Finally, it was time of go.

We were all kind of down in the dumps about leaving the dump.

Oh it sure is sad leaving this whole place.

I've got a lot of memories buried here.

Me too.

Only mine are bones, and I didn't have time to dig 'em up!

Chin up, Crusaders.

Siberia is a place filled with dumps, and one of them

has our name written all over it.

We still couldn't believe it, after all we'd

done for the town, we were being deported just for being ugly.

Ferry now leaving for Siberia.

All aboard!

You wait til these jerks find out we're

taking them to Island City instead.

Yeah.

Are they in for a big surprise.

Oh, Toxie.

What if I want to call you or something?

Do they have phones in Siberia?

I doubt it.

But don't worry, Yvonne.

I'll keep in touch somehow.

Do you think we could have some stirring music?

Why certainly, Toxie.

No, not you.

I mean background music.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

Thanks.

Yvonne, one day I'll return to Tromaville and change

that anti-ugly law and get rid of Mom's extra arms,

and also turn off the bathtub-- which I think I forgot to do.

Goodbye, Yvonne.

So long, Toxie!

If you ever move to a city that rhymes, call me.

It was a voyage full of surprises.

The first surprise was finding out that Siberia is only

10 minutes from Tromaville.

Next stop, Siberia.

All ashore that's going to shore.

Dr. Killemoff, what are you doing in Siberia?

This is Island City, you dodo.

Toxic Crusaders, I have a proposition for you.

Defeat General GarBage's infiltrators,

and you can return to Tromaville.

Honest?

Cross my fingers and hope to die.

Yeah!

-Yes! -All right!

Way to go!

But a strange thing was happening

at Tromaville City Hall.

Mona, take a letter.

Um, how's this one?

Fine.

Now send it airmail.

There.

That must have been exhausting.

Here.

You'd better sit down for awhile and catch your breath.

Oh, Mr. Mayor, you certainly are an understanding employer!

While Grody and Mona were playing kissyface,

there was a jailbreak in the works.

And it was being pulled off by my very own mom!

OK, girls.

No [INAUDIBLE] in sight.

Let's make a break for it.

The last one to leave turns out the lights.

[INTERPOSING VOICES]

A biddy break?

No, ladies!

Back in your cells!

You too, Mom.

Outta my way, sonny.

Or I'll kick ya.

Now that my mother's an escaped felon,

I guess I can kiss my reelection goodbye.

By the time we got back to Tromaville,

all the citizens had fled.

The place was a ghost town.

The perimeter is all clear, troops.

Not an infiltrator clone in sight.

[WAR CRIES EMERGING FROM DISTANCE]

Uh-oh!

It's an ambush.

Shouldn't we be fighting back, Toxie?

No way, Major Disaster.

We can't hit little old ladies, even if they

aren't little old ladies.

Maybe you can't, Toxie, darling.

But we sure can.

Mom?

I'll teach you to hit my baby boy, you old bag.

You old bug.

If I've got bunions, you've got bunions.

That's what you get for wearing my dress.

But then the weirdest thing of all happened.

OK, ladies.

Let's nuke 'em with our blue henna hairspray.

Ready, aim, spray!

[SHRIEKING]

The infiltrator clones shrunk back into little bugs.

How humiliating.

We hideously deformed creatures of superhuman size and strength

rescued by Mom and her friends.

Well your mother won't be able to help you now.

Charge!

Radiation Rangers!

Now those dudes we can handle.

Toxic Crusaders, it's clean-up time.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

Now it's our turn to charge!

On the trees, commence firing!

Junkyard headed for the nearest fire hydrant.

At first I thought it was just all the excitement,

but he had a different plan in mind.

Mop, where are you going?

Hairspray?

But I don't have any hair, remember?

Oh, I get it!

That's using your mop head!

What are you doing?

[INAUDIBLE].

Full retreat back to Smogula.

Hey, wait up, General!

You don't want to leave without your cute little buddies

now do ya?

Ah-foo!

Back in Island City, Dr. Killemoff was pretty happy,

too.

Pretty neat, boys, getting those Toxic Crusaders

to do our work for us.

Yes.

And now with General GarBage out of the way,

guess who will be back in charge.

You, boss?

For once, Ikel, your prediction is correct.

Telegram for Dr. Killemoff.

Telegram for Dr. Killemoff.

Ah.

That will be Czar Zosta now.

Congratulations, Killemoff.

You are back in charge of Operation Tromaville.

I figured you'd see the light.

No offense, your Czarship, but you

should never a send a bug to do a ruthless interplanetary

invader's job.

Yeah, well this time, don't screw it up.

All the citizens returned to Tromaville,

just in time for Mother's Day.

Yvonne had written a special song for the occasion.

And it goes something like this.

(SINGING) Mom is the one who tolerates

the toxic radiation you exude.

(SINGING) She fills you full of knowledge--

(SINGING) And sends you off to college--

(SINGING) She's always there to bring

you extra clothing and food.

(SINGING) Her chicken soup will keep you going

even through an acid rain.

(SINGING) She sees you through the scrapes and bumps

of living in a toxic dump.

(SINGING) Living in a toxic dump.

[CRYING]

Yeah, I know just how you feel, Blobbie.

I got sensitive ears, too.

[HOWLING]

We didn't have time to buy Mom a present,

so instead we all pitched in and baked her a nice, gooey cake.

Oh, you darling boys.

I wish you hadn't done that.

[SNEEZING]

Like I said, I wish you hadn't done that.

[MUSIC PLAYING]