Original subtitles

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Oh, my, yes.

The great vault of Sulcus

is the most secure depository in the galaxy.

Would you like to open an account?

On what you might call the contrary.

I do believe I'd like to close them all.

It's a stickup.

It's the Vreedle brothers!

Drop it, Vreedles!

You're outnumbered!

Gametes 'n things closes in half an hour!

M-m-ma Vreedle?

Yeah. Hi.

Can't really chat.

Gonna shoot you all now, steal the valuables,

make a clean getaway-- Like that.

We give up! Take the money!

Don't shoot me!

I'm too young and witty to die!

That's smart.

You've got nothing to lose by cooperating

but money what ain't even yours.

Mm-hmm.

And your dignity and any sense of trustworthiness.

Boid...

And probably your job.

Boid!

What?!

We're supposed to be what you call

persuading him to cooperate.

That's okay.

That's what I was doing.

Pardon my boys.

They're what you call

half-baked.

She's alluding to the fact

that she made us from a clone kit

way past its "best if used by" date.

Ow!

That's private business!

Ow!

I popped out a good one not too long ago.

Pretty boy!

There you are.

Aren't you mama's little, little, little angel?

Yes, you are.

Mama's little angel.

See?

He's beautiful!

Now give me the loot!

Rhomboid Vreedle, go out and collect

all the jewelry--

and find some more pillowcases!

Pbht!

So long, Sulcus!

What?

We promised our daddy we was going straight.

When we joined the plumbers,

we said we wasn't gonna steal, kill,

and blow stuff up and whatnot.

Clearly, boid, we is what you call "recidivated,"

which condition I impute to mother love, for ma.

Boys! Turn right!

Mama's got to pick up a few sundries.

Then we're going to the sol system!

But, ma, boid and my's previous sojourns to that location

were fraught with danger and failures to repossess.

Quit your back talk!

I said we're going to Earth.

Sync and corrections by n17t01 www.MY-SUBS.com

Once again, NASA has reported

sighting an incoming meteor

heading straight for Earth at unbelievable speed.

Scientists worry that the impact could cause

major disruptions to climate.

Oh. Here we go.

Next thing you know, they'll be using it

as an excuse to raise taxes!

Jetray!

About time you got here.

Kevin's scanner spotted a bogey.

We were on our way to intercept.

It's all over the tv,

Gwen-- Even the Toon channel.

I was wondering how

you heard about it.

Uh, t-t-t-this is

Magister Patelliday.

All p-plumbers in this sector,

respond immediately!

This is Ben Tennyson.

We're investigating an incoming

meteor.

It's not a meteor, son.

It's a spacecraft piloted by a

band of interplanetary bandits.

They're armed and extremely

reckless.

You mean "dangerous."

Which is why I kicked it to

you.

Patelliday out.

He's transmitting the

plumber's reports on this case.

Let's get a look at

these "ruthless killers."

Who's my pretty

boy?

Oh! That's right.

You're my pretty boy.

Ma Vreedle?

Ben and aah!

Where are you going?

The other direction.

Nobody messes with ma Vreedle.

As in octagon and

rhomboid Vreedle's mother?

Yep.

She anything like her

kids?

Less stupid, more

mean.

Are you...Afraid of

her?

Yeah.

Who's dumb enough not to be?

Aw, man.

After we're dead, don't say I

didn't warn you.

I'm Ben Tennyson--

The Ben Tennyson.

We need to talk.

Talk away.

I'm not here to cause trouble--

Just a mother looking for a nice

place to nest.

Do not trust her.

All I want's just

a little place to call home and

1.3 billion cubic kilometers of

3-5 saline.

What's 3-5 saline?

3.5% saltwater.

Like the ocean?

Doesn't sound like a problem.

I'd have to look it up,

but it sounds like she's after

all of it.

I'm going have to ask

you to leave.

Here we go.

I suppose I could

just go find somewhere else to

nest.

Or...

Boys!

Blast them out of the sky!

With blithe pleasure.

Ah! Stick's dead!

We got this, Ben!

Spidermonkey!

Like water-skiing without the

water.

Or the skis.

Did we do you proud, ma?

You did okay.

Isn't that right, pretty boy?

Is pretty boy a good boy?

Be on the lookout for a

suitable archipelago.

Well, maybe it's past them

little islands.

Yeah, boid. Could be.

Ultimate Spidermonkey:

Ultimate spider monkey!

We got a

stowaway!

That's okay,

pretty boy.

Mama's gonna beat that monkey

until he's a bag of monkey

juice.

Yes, she is. Yes, she is.

Hey!

Ooh! That's nasty, monkey.

No!

There's Ben!

I love this

planet.

It's juicy!

Seems like I been stealing and

swiping forever.

But now mama's ready to clone!

It's gonna take every drop of

seawater they got on this

planet, but it's worth it-- to

me, I mean.

How many brothers is we gonna

get, ma?

About 3 or 4...

Hundred billion.

These prefab cloning

factories don't take but a speck

of time to assemble.

That there's your best value.

Quit jawing and

keep working!

Pbht! Keep working.

Your older

brothers came from a bad batch.

Yes, they did!

They came from a bad batch.

But when I stole

some fresh mix and made you, I

learned my lesson.

If you just follow the

instructions, they come out

beautiful!

Beautiful!

But kids cost a

lot-- Not just the cloning,

either.

You got to feed them,

"edumacate" 'em...

There's tutoring,

pianny lessons, 'cause you got

to figure a couple billion of

them is gonna be gifted, just

like a couple billion is gonna

breathe in seawater and drown.

That's what you might call a

bell curve.

Back to work!

Now mama's got her career

marauding and plundering and she

got the family she always

wanted.

It's true!

With careful planning, a girl

can have it all!

Let her rip, boys!

Here come the seawater!

There go the clone batter!

Mama just made

the perfect little angel.

Little angel.

Mama just made

the perfect little angel again!

Little angel.

This is aerobic.

For me, too.

Don't know how much longer I can

hold it.

Close enough.

Don't move a muscle, not even

a twitch.

Dang it, boid!

We aims to blast 'em, so

flexation is what you call

"immaterial."

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday!

You can't sneak up on me.

I'm a mother!

Aah!

I call these my

apron strings.

It's getting late, Tennyson.

Aah!

Time for mama to

put you down.

Pbht!

Pbht!

As you can see, ma has

already began to infest the

universe with

pretty boy Vreedles.

Here!

Sadly, octagon's right.

We was a bad batch.

Aaaah!

I got one.

You're supposed to be

plumbers now.

I thought you two were better

than this.

Begging your pardon, but we

ain't never been better than

anything.

Pbht! Pbht! Pbht!

As much as I would like to

see precisely how a pretty boy

blows up--

You're right.

Ma would never forgive us.

This is what you

get for interfering with my

healthy nesting instinct.

Wait!

Are you recording this?

What's that, now?

A video of the birth--

Births-- As a keepsake?

That'd have been

nice.

Wish I'd have brung my camera.

Oh, well.

I've got a camera-- in

my watch.

What kind of mother doesn't want

a video of her kids' birth?

Is that

important?

You have to show them

where they came from, or they'll

grow up with, uh, no sense of

self.

Did promise

myself this batch was gonna be

gentlemen thieves.

Hi, little angels!

This is your mama on the day you

was born.

Wait.

I'll give you a cue.

Big chill!

You tricked me!

You just getting

that now?

The apple really doesn't fall

far from the tree.

Come out, missy, before your

friend gets disincorporated.

Family first, they says.

We're family, too.

We're all plumbers.

Ain't that nice?!

Ain't it?

On the contrary, rhomboid.

We now got us a dilemma, between

what you call filial duty and

the more fraternal type.

That's it.

Who's your real family-- An

intergalactic order of

peacekeepers or a bunch of

pretty boys?

What was that for?!

I was trying for a

non sequitur and went too far.

Rhomboid, this is one of them

rare problems that can't be

solved with violence.

Oh, no!

It's nature versus nurture

what lies in the crux of the

issue.

I don't want none of either!

Octagon!

Rhomboid!

Come step on this moth!

Aw, ma!

We is locked in mortal combat!

Do what you're

told, 'fore I eradicate your

sorry hides.

I don't need you anyway.

The new models are out!

Ma tried to blow us up!

Which seems somewhat uncalled

for.

What are you gonna do

about it?

Yeah.

What are you-- A man or a

Vreedle?

We don't get the reference.

I ain't so dumb as to blow up my

own works!

You're dumb enough

that it was worth a shot.

Wait! I'm a mother, too.

You are?

Yes.

So I know how you must feel.

Oh, yeah?

Where are your kids?!

I don't know--

In deep space somewhere.

That's probably not the best

example.

But I understand.

You want to see your kids

succeed, to go further than you

did, to...

Ohh! Ahh! Ohh.

No more playing

on my sympathies, of which I

don't have much, anyway.

No sympathy.

No sympathy. No sympathy.

No sympathy.

You know what

else?

Pulped Necrofriggians make the

best baby food.

You boys look like you got

something to say.

Put the baby down and kick it

over to me.

What I believe rhomboid meant

to say, ma, is you done brought

us up to live by a code.

No, I didn't.

Well, then, pa?

Doubt it.

Well, somewhealong the

way, we acquired a code.

And the offing of a whole planet

don't rightly reconcile with

said code.

You're telling me

that I can't kill 6 billion

strangers to make

3 hundred billion Vreedles?

What kind of justice is that?

I don't rightly know.

Nunh-Unh.

This may require further

research.

What does the policeman

say?

You're under arrest!

My own sons turn

on me?

Ow!

I'll murderlize

every last one of you!

Then I'll murderlize your

wretched pa!

And then I'll murderlize

everybody you know!

Ma, you are overreacting

considerable.

I'm

overreacting?!

I'm overreacting?!

That strikes one as ironic,

right there.

You misbegotten

traitors!

Octagon and rhomboid Vreedle,

how could you turn on your own

mother?

Well, pa always said there's

more than one side to a Vreedle.

Pbht!

That's the last of

them.

We'll see that they're

brought up in the appropriate

orphanage.

Or zoo.

I trust you fine folks will

forget what you seen here.

What?

I didn't see anything.

Me neither.

We broke our oath of service

to the plumbers and tried to

help our mama commit genocide.

I swear, boid, your uptake

leaves much to be desired.

At any rate, my brother and I

thank you for overlooking what

one might call a temporary lapse

into our old brand of

peccadillo.

Family stuff can get

complicated.

Oh, yeah.

No question.

Let's go.

And I would have gotten away with it, too,

if it weren't for my meddling kids!

You're grounded!

You're all grounded!

Boid, this is gonna require one boatload of therapy.

Sync and corrections by n17t01 www.MY-SUBS.com