Original subtitles

God bless you.

I think the commissioner would support our decision to employ rubber ammo and

tear gas at this point.

He wouldn't want this to get out of hand.

After all, it is his daughter's wedding.

Oh, I am so glad to make contact with you at last.

The commissioner tells me you are a dog and a rabbit -y thing that can be

trusted. I like the weaselly way he talks, Sam. Can we keep him? I have no

for your games.

Here, take this.

You might let it out of your sight.

Whatever you say.

It is extremely valuable information.

The details in detail. The latest details devised by the most diabolical

villainous to date.

The dreaded...

White Crab!

They're onto us! No!

Weak! Help me! Help!

Weak!

Put the microchip on the ground and step back.

Back? Okay. I'm going to reach into my pocket and give you the microchip now.

Nice and slow.

Rebustable corn dog?

What do the geek think of next?

They're pretty strict about the speed limit around here.

Beautiful country, though, isn't it?

that cream in the baking.

Well, hello there, honey bunny.

Gee, Sam, aren't we being a tad familiar?

That's her name, Onionhead. She's the new temp the geek hired to screen her

calls and salt her food and to facilitate this macho spy guy moment.

You really should have that twitch looked at.

Freelance Police, meet Dr. Harry Monkey Features, Chief Operating Director of

ONCLE, the French division of UNCLE.

Pleased to meet you, Mr. Monkey Features.

Loved you in Planet of the Chimps. You may call me M. I believe that you

gentlemen have something that belongs to me.

Just shout when you see it.

The microchip. Give me the microchip.

Oh, yeah.

The walls have ears.

You should talk.

Nice track.

You a member here?

Yes, golf relaxes me.

At least it used to.

The microchip your little friend is carrying contains information vital to

national security.

No fooling. Let's have a look.

A few days ago, we received a disturbing communique concerning the mysterious

disappearance of a handful of tourists.

Paris.

Mexico.

Japan.

We... That isn't too bothersome, is it, Matt? I'm just thankful he did not for

rear projection.

We have reason to believe that agents from TRUSS are responsible for these

abductions, and that the entire operation is under the direct

Trussell's villainous leader, the dreaded Larvo.

You boys are the best and most highly expendable crime fighters we know, and

such, we want you to look into this.

Besides... Young Darla tells me your tuxedos aren't due back until Monday.

where you two are going, you're going to need them.

Quite a day, eh, little pal?

One minute we're toasting the Commissioner's daughter, and the next

embroiled in international intrigue and espionage.

Larvo's tropical hideaway dead ahead.

Any sign of Gilligan or the Skipper?

The perimeter has been compromised.

Release Snowball.

Well, hello, cousin.

The intruders have been eliminated.

Thank you would be nice.

It's Snowball.

Buzzer in.

Oh, you didn't have to get all dressed up for us.

Look, Sam, it's five weapon -toting punks who couldn't cut it at Burger Boy.

And with their career paths greatly limited, they chose to become evil

I'll bet they were even turned down by the military.

Shut up! Shut up!

Clearly, we've shambled into an elaborate trap. But who could have set

I'm sorry, guys.

His credentials were fake.

Brilliant forgery.

Well, well.

If it isn't the monkey from Uncle.

Not quite, freelance police.

For I am... Marvel!

That old parlor trick. We can top that.

Before you were deep -fried to crispy golden brown, I think it only fair to

you in on our little recipe for world domination.

Using this device of my own design, I, Larvo, have developed a method

to extract the most annoying virus known to man.

The obnoxious tourist virus.

Good gosh!

After sprinkling virus bombs heavily over the surface of the planet, millions

will be infected.

Obnoxious, rude behavior will result in fisticuffs and widespread chaos. And

when the dust settles, I, Larvo, will remain standing to rule all.

Initiate the countdown.

60. 59.

58.

57.

Does she really expect us to slip through this?

I don't expect you to sit through anything, Salmon Max.

I expect you to fry.

Lower them in.

Lower them in.

Here, let me.

No, let me. And since you're up, can you get me a vanilla shake, a scumbo jumbo

dog, and a large fry?

Yeah, make mine a cheeseburger, a side of rings, and a bucket of chili for

dipping.

Down a fry, taking the last cheese puff.

Cheese puff? What?

This table is very...

We shall meet again.

Judging by the position of the sun and the overabundance of dead fish and oil

slicks in the water, I'd say we're in the main shipping lanes. Heck, we should

be picked up by some friendlies in no time.

Too bad.

I'm in no hurry to be... rescued.

Whim -wham, Sam!

Something ain't right here! Too true, Max.

This isn't The Geek.

We hate to save the world and run, but we've really got to get these monkey

suits back. Looks like our ride is here.

Don't worry, miss. A boat will be along shortly, and that means sailors.

Yeah, you'll get picked up all right.

Did I mention that you'd crack me up, little buddy?

Whatever.

If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I never would have believed it. Who'd have

guessed one wimpy bolt was holding up five tons of colorful roadside

I was right. You owe me one dino -boogie snow globe full of primordial dandruff.

A deal's a deal. Smile for the birdie.

Another warm, fuzzy memory for our scrapbook of America's cheesiest

oddities. Hey, up and rip! This snow globe is dry.

The leaflets are just stuck on the side.

Yeah, well, if you really want to see some wizened -up artifacts, This place

boasts the world's only collection of sun -dried appendixes of the stars.

A frosty dessert says the Duke's appendix is so big that the other

are in orbit around it. Sorry, little pal.

Wagering is disrespectful to the solemn spirit of these celebrity giblets.

Okay, you're on.

Thanks, Sam. I couldn't help myself.

There was more. There's always a tiny speck more!

Don't thank me. I did it for the sake of the innocent passersby who might have

been mortally sucked.

And because it was funny.

Sam, do you see what I see?

Sweet mother of all things hairy and disgusting.

The guidebook said this was fast watch country.

And here's me without my cattle prod.

The Sasquatch, also commonly known as Bigfoot, is a shy, elusive forest

known to photograph poorly and project a horrific stench that will make women

faint and strong men's stomachs turn.

He doesn't smell so bad. Sort of like a wet puppy.

Sorry, that's me. These hip waiters haven't drained from our last trip.

Oh, it's fine, Jojo. Now, I'd like you to go clean out the stock room, if you

don't mind.

He should be headlining, not bussing tables.

I can't believe that the manager of this fine establishment would exploit a

fledgling Bigfoot. Oh, well, the world thinks. Let's blow!

We've still got to check out the mummified mer -boy and the weeping pits

tedium. I think tedium is north of I -5.

No, Max. I believe destiny has led us to this humble highway stop.

A little Bigfoot needs to be in the wild, embraced by its own lanky, foul

-smelling tribe.

We're going to set Jojo free, Max. Free to frolic and forage and eat grub worms

with others of his shaggy ilk.

Ilk? Sounds like a good deed best left to someone who gives a hoot. Let's blow.

Uh -oh. Sam's father's sense of do -gooderism is popping up like a bad

Quick, Max. Where'd we park? We gotta get Jojo as far away from here as

possible. I think we're in luck you, for you got a purty mouth.

Hey!

What are you trying to pull?

Let's keep moving, Max.

Don't make eye contact.

I'm a little insulted that he didn't pick us out of this gaggle. I'm a little

disappointed we don't actually get to eat this way.

Just drive, Sam!

I want to remember this place exactly how we left it.

It's okay, Jojo. Sam's got it in his overstuffed noggin that we're going to

return you to your own time.

Won't that be nice?

He doesn't look thrilled, Sam.

That's because excitement is a human emotion, Max. He's probably just gassy

traveling at high speeds for the first time.

Yeah, mythical creatures hardly ever get to fool around in boss cars.

Hey, don't call Jojo mythical. You're going to hurt his itty -bitty feelings.

But you got a point. It's not every day I get to cruise with a creature of

legend. Present company accepted.

This looks like as good a spot as any.

Here you are, Jojo. Home at last.

You're a free Bigfoot. Go, Frolic. Go eat a grub. Go on, go on and Frolic. And

eat grubs. And Frolic. I knew it. He's gone far from all that high city living.

All his natural grub -eating instincts have been bled out of him.

Show him how it's done, big guy.

If that's what it takes.

Grub, grub, grub, grub.

Cool it off, Sam. I think he's getting wistful.

Oh, what happy big foots are we?

Roaming the redwoods healthy and free. My fur stinks a lot like a rug drench. I

don't know this guy. The guy in the park? I've never seen him before.

Well, that did it, Mac.

JoJo's gone. After your little display, I felt the urge to run for the hills

myself. Don't knock it. A guy could get used to dressing this freely.

Sure beats ill -fitting slack.

I wouldn't know.

Oh, yeah.

I'm going to really miss our little JoJo, but it's all for the best. He can

to a strapping nine feet tall and spend his life eluding capture by backwoods

trophy hunters with little or no sense of personal hygiene.

Isn't that cute, Sam?

You can barely see over the dash.

He's resisting our effort to set him free, Max.

Disoriented from living too long amongst the Homo sapiens. The what?

I fear we'll have to hand him back over to his Bigfoot clan in person. It's a

simple matter of tracking down a whole tribe of these elusive half -men.

Succeeding were countless other sensations seeking knuckleheads of fail.

There's a truck coming.

Lot of clips around here.

What luck!

We've stumbled upon the annual Bigfoot bailiwick.

Wow. Surely one of these kindly lunatics can tell us where to find some Bigfoot?

Attention, believers.

This year's finest Bigfoot footage is now being screened in the Elks Hall.

Come one, come all, walk your big feet to Elks Club Hall.

I want focus!

The last entry is from Mr.

and Mrs. Pongo Pigman, a reserved couple, but their vivacious camera work

volumes. Roll, please.

It's amazing.

If Citizen Kane was all about Bigfoots and shot on a handheld Super 8 camera,

uh, hmm, I forgot what I was getting at.

Well, I guess it comes as no surprise that this year... award for excellence

goes once again to the Pygmaeus family.

Our search is over, Max. If anyone knows the whereabouts of a Bigfoot clan, it's

these backwards folks.

Besides

littering

and disturbing Jojo's nap, the brood is destroying perfectly fine works of art.

Next he'll be defacing black velvet hobo painting.

I feel compelled to employ the oh -so -formidable rat gaff.

It came free with our last muffler job.

Make that puppy sing, Max.

Hey, Mr.

Pygmaeus, why so shy?

We just wanted a lead on where to find this little guy's kin.

I mean, sorry.

Gee, buddy, in my experience, a grade four abrasion like that usually has the

recipient bawling like a three -legged longshoreman at a cotillion.

Sam, how can you be so insensitive?

This big old boy probably never got as far as grade four.

Hmm. Take a look at this, Max.

Now I get it. It's a band of super -intelligent circuses, quietly

our utopian society.

Free circuses!

Uh, they're Bigfoots, Max.

My gosh, you're right. It's obvious from their glaring lack of unicycles.

Finally, we can return Jojo to his own kind.

Here you go.

They're rejecting him.

Maybe he smells too human.

Max, come here a minute. And bring your armpit. That's slim, Sheriff.

That's the ones what took my little Jojo. Walked right off with him without

much as a please and thank you. Easy, Festus. We've just returned him this

Bigfoot young 'un to his own kin is all.

Sam, I didn't know you spoke bumpkin.

Bigfoot? What are you talking about, Mungrel?

That's my boy.

Boy? Look at him. Only one of you has hair.

Well, heck, takes after his ma is all.

Come on out, Ma.

Joe Jones back.

Ain't you never heard of Glamorous Gert, the wild woman of Borneo?

I feel dizzy.

All we need now is a turtle boy and a pinhead and we can open our own

Well, Max, I think we've learned a valuable lesson here today.

Never judge a big foot by its saggy cover.

No.

Don't bite your big wet nose in where it don't belong?

No. What then?

When Bigfoots invites you to sit down to grub, they ain't kidding.

Can you pass the hot dog, Sam?

Mine's still kicking.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.