Original subtitles

# Rej and Rub.

- # They're tiny little bots a long way from home.

- # Rej and Rub.

- # They're tiny little bots a long way from home.

# They miss their daddy. Makes them cry.

# I bet they wish that they could flyyyy.

# They're tiny little bots a long way from home.

# Tiny little bots a long way from home. #

(BIRD CAWS)

- Hey, Rej, we sure are high, man.

- Yes, I am experiencing vertigo

and also terror!

- Yeah, I'm not showing off, but I'm kinda freaked out about how high we are.

And also, not showing off again, but I'm freezing.

Actually, I worked out the higher you are, the colder it is.

- Yes, the temperature up high is very low,

and thusly, I am freezing.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

- Yeah, that's what I said.

I wish it was hotter. (WHIMPERS)

Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold.

Aaah! Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hoooot!

- This heat is most unpleasant.

(FOLK MUSIC)

- Too high, too high, too high!

I don't like heights. This is high!

- Agreed. This terrifying height is most unpleasant.

This terrifyingly low altitude is not optimal.

Fear levels at 97%.

- Way too low.

We're going to crash! Too low! We're going to crash!

- This small distance to the ground is not optimal.

- Aahhh, this is more like it.

Moderate height, moderate temperatures ―

not too hot, not too cold,

not too high, not too low.

- I agree, Rub.

Our current velocity, temperature and altitude is comfortable.

I feel... good.

- Hey, hey, Rej, mate.

- What?

- Hey, um, what kind of bird do you think this is, mate?

- It is most likely a―

- Uh, do you reckon it's a chicken?

- A chicken?

No, that is a ridiculous suggestion.

- Ah yeah, true.

Is it a kiwi, then?

What? A kiwi, really?

You think it is a kiwi?

- Uh, yeah. Why not?

- Kiwis do not fly.

- Ah yeah, true, true.

Actually, come to think of it,

it's most definitely a moa.

- Rub, moa also do not fly,

and they have been extinct for one hundreds of years.

According to my calculations, it is most likely a falcon ― a karearea.

- Yeah, true. Or...

You know, it could be a kiwi. - It is not a kiwi.

- Yeah, true. Well, it either is or it isn't, huh?

- (GROANS)

- While we're up here, buddy, tell me a bit about yourself.

- Well― - Boring! - Let me think.

- Bored! - Where do I begin? - That's boring.

- I calculate... - Bored! - ...a good place to start...

- Boring! - ...would be where we first met... - Bored.

- ...at the dump... - Boring. - ...this morning.

- That's boring. What about before that?

- I have no memories before the dump.

- Right, so you don't remember anything either.

- Correct. We met at the dump. Some events occurred.

You were annoying, and now we are gripped betwixt the talons of a hawk.

- Yeah, no offence, Rej, but, uuuh, that's pretty boring.

(WHOOPS) I have an idea.

Wanna hear it? - No. - Cool.

So instead of us waiting to get hit in the head to have a flashback,

why don't we concentrate and try and have a flashback now?

- Highly unorthodox,

but I will attempt it. - (GROANS)

(GROANS)

Nah, I got nothing. Nothing at all.

- (GROANS)

(GLITCHING)

- Reject.

Rubbish.

Rubbish.

- Rub, I had a memory.

- (WHOOPS) Cool!

What was it? Something great, I bet.

- No, it was very bad.

- Nah, I bet it rules.

What was it? - You are...

rubbish. - Rubbish?

- Yes, Rub. You are rubbish.

- (CHUCKLES) I love gentle ribbings between mates.

If I'm rubbish, you're a giant fart can.

- Rub, you are rubbish.

Rub means 'rubbish'.

- OK, steady on.

As I said, you're a can of farts, old Rej ― the fart can.

- I am not a fart can.

And my name is not Rej.

I was stamped 'Rej' for 'reject'.

You were stamped 'Rub' for 'rubbish'.

You are rubbish.

Look at the stamp on your foot.

- OK, Rej, it's not funny any more.

Friends don't call each other rubbish.

- Friendship has nothing to do with this.

It is simply a fact.

You are rubbish. That is why we woke up at the rubbish dump.

We were thrown out.

- I'm warning you, buddy. Don't call me rubbish again, man. I don't like it.

- Like it or not, Rub, you are... rubbish.

- OK, man, that was your last chance.

No more rubbish. Compre-hende?

- Rub, the professor,

he is the one who threw us out.

- Nah, he'd never do that.

- Rubbish! - That's it, Rej. That is it.

No more. I am not talking to you,

and we are no longer best buddies or best friends or even best mates.

Pffbbt!

(PLANE WHIRRS)

- RT: Hey, hey, come in, Tower.

Are you picking up a massive bird?

(BIRD SQUAWKS)

(REJ AND RUB YELL)

(FUNKY MUSIC)

Captions were made with the support of NZ On Air.

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