Original subtitles

Six thousand steps to go?

Oh, come on!

That was more than nine steps.

Huzzah!

Ha-ha.

Oh, look at what I found, Sir Dwight.

'Tis my old hunting frock.

Oh.

Many a dragon came undone

at the mere sight of this beauty.

Nice.

We are finally unpacking the wardrobe crates

we brought over from the castle.

It’s as if my world has been reopened to me.

Huh, oh!

Oh, can you believe I ever wore this old thing?

Uh... how garish.

I fear I have outgrown this.

Wow.

Kid-sized armor.

What good would this do me now

if I were I to run into a goblin or an ogre or a troll.

Well, maybe it won’t be a goblin or an ogre or a troll.

Maybe it’ll be something nice.

Like a...

Cute kid with lemonade.

Hey, Mr. Baldric.

We’ll take the whole load.

And the wagon.

Thanks for supporting Lulu’s Lemonade.

Take this, little Lulu...

may it preserve your young life in battle.

Ah.

Ooh!

You want Strawberry Lemonade next week?

Uh, pink, if you please.

Or cherry!

Sir Dwight, make yourself of use

and unpack that crate while I don my Royal Court Robe.

Yeah, sure thing.

Ha-ha.

Baldric, another one of your completely different outfits.

'Tis my burial shift.

When the day comes, Sir Dwight, see to it I am buried in this.

Promise me.

'Kay.

Good lad.

Huh, somebody’s not afraid to make a bold statement.

These.

Guys?

Huh?

Ah!

Guys, seriously.

Does this one make me look overfed?

Guys!!!

Ahhhh!

Ahh, guys!

Sir Dwight has just stolen our jester pants.

Shall we pursue him, Highness?

Something’s amiss.

Well, I can’t possibly give chase

in my Royal Court Robe.

I will change!

Okay, so about a thousand years ago

there was this princess, Gretta, and she was in big trouble

'cause she had lots of enemies and not a lot of friends.

So her court magician, Baldric, cast the champion spell.

It put everyone in the woods to sleep

until a champion would come, break the spell with his kiss,

and deal with Gretta's big, scary enemies.

But that guy never showed up.

Instead...

Ahhh!

...they got me.

Ah!

Ow!

Fence! Fence!

Car!

Road! Road!

Cross at the crosswalk, you maniac!

Ahh.

Hello?!

Are you even listening to me?!

Sir Dwight?

Help!

With what?

These pants!

They have a mind of their own!

How so?

They want to go that way!

Wait, that way.

No, over there!

That way!

No, over there.

T-Turkey bacon’s backing up--

Sir Dwight is unwell.

I was perfectly well until these pants jumped on me.

The pants leapt upon you?

Well see, when you say it like that,

it sounds crazy.

Oh dear.

Oh dear, indeed.

What?

What’s ‘oh dear’?

Clearly you have been seized upon

by demonic pant legs.

Mm.

The devil is in the pants.

What is it with you two?

It doesn't always have to be a demon or a devil.

Maybe there’s a simple explanation.

Such as...?

Such as...

the pants have been cooped up in a crate

and need some fresh air?

Why would pants need fresh air?

Why would pants be possessed?

That is exactly what we need to find out.

Baldric!

Do we have a plan B?

On the count of six,

Highness, you leap out of the way

and Sir Dwight will unhand the pole.

Why six?

Ready.

Six!

Ah!

Haha!

Victory!

Not for me.

Ah!

We must rid you of these pants.

Hey, w-wait, hold up...

Urgh!

They. Don’t. Want. To. Come. Off!

Just in case they do, you should know,

the poop emoji boxers, they were a gift from Nana.

Whoa, what the...

You’re free!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeelp!

That’s a wrinkle.

Make haste!

Is it possible just to keep

the poop emoji thing just between us?

Disperse, peasants!

Move away!

Stand aside!

Scatter!

Run for your lives!

Ahhh!

I am too aged for this.

Gah!

I am so sorry.

So, so, so, so, so sorry.

Sir Dwight, help me!

Ha!

You’re trapped, Devil Pants!

Probably not Devil Pants.

Yield, Demon Leg-wear!

Or Demon Leg-wear.

Well, then what are they and what do they want?

Aw, floof.

Sir Dwight.

Now give it a nice swing and hum your favorite tune--

Oh! I beg your pardon.

Oh, continue.

Hum, hum, hum.

And keep that fish swinging.

Baldie boo, darling...

We’re on our way with a nine hundred and eleven!

Oh!

Hello?

Sorry, dropped my fish.

What were you saying?

O-Oh, keep humming.

Don’t mind me.

And swinging.

Swing, swing, swing.

Baldric... hello?

Better.

No!

Oh, man.

Well, well.

No.

Most disturbing.

You fear the worst?

Always.

Why?

Why always fear the worst?

Tell me all.

We were unpacking our crates of clothes...

Ooh!

Did you find your hunting frock?

I did.

It always makes you look so gallant.

Well, maybe I shall wear it again for you next time.

Baldric/Hexela:

Ah!

We were, as I said, unpacking

and Sir Dwight donned the jester pants.

Yeah, that’s one way of saying they freaking jumped on me.

And then on me.

And now back to me.

Curious.

Oh, hexcellent.

Keep up the good work, you’re doing beautifully.

Come.

On the count of eight, we shall pounce on Sir Dwight.

On eight?

Why not NOW?!

A futile effort, I fear.

Guys?

Mm-hm, mm-hm, mm!

Behold.

What?

What?

I can’t see.

Ludicriso.

I thought he was just a bedtime story.

What?

What bedtime story?

Designed to frighten children.

Why would you want to frighten children at bedtime?

This story, I fear, may be based in fact.

You mean to say that Ludicriso is... real?

That’s not a door!

That’s not a door!

Who’s Ludicriso?

A maniacal court jester who lures children to his castle

and makes them into pudding.

That is the one.

Oh, has it been six minutes?

Oh.

Let’s not overdo it.

The fish likes a nice swing and a hum--

That’s a dead fish.

But too much is... just a little too much.

Oh, come on, man!

Ahh!

Ow!

Until we find a remedy,

we must keep Sir Dwight and the pants

contained in this room.

Agreed.

Oh, don’t mind me.

I’ll just be sittin' here banging my head against the...

Ooh!

Hey, kids!

Ahhhhh!

Wow, Dwight.

Those are some fancy pants.

They’re Ludicriso's pants.

A demonic jester.

And a fabulous pudding maker.

This is not how I saw this day going!

Oh!

Ah, ah.

Oh, just got my 10,000 steps.

You okay, honey?

You okay, pants?

I want you to know

I don’t believe everything I hear about people--

Ah!

That was not me.

You know that, right?

Oh dear.

Ahhh!

We’re never going to catch her.

She’ll be pudding by sundown.

Come on guys, that way.

Alder Street.

I’ll call a car.

Okay, Fancy Pants, it’s just you and me now.

Oh!

Gotcha.

Whatever, pants.

You’re not goin' anywhere.

Seat belts, everybody.

Buckle up.

All right, safety first.

Get the pants.

Ah!

Your sadistic master will make no pudding today!

Whoa!

Good gravy, I’m sorry!

Where’d they go?

Ugh, not again.

Get those pants.

Uncle, uncle!

Ancient infirmed one!

No!

No, no!

That way, turn left!

She’s crossing to the park-- go around!

Go, go, go, go!

They’re heading for the woods.

Those are some pants in a serious hustle.

Ludicriso, for certain!

Not for certain at all.

He’ll be dining on Princess Pudding

within the hour.

Eww.

We cannot let the princess reach the woods.

Coachman, halt!

I will flank her from the west.

Lady Nana, from the north!

On it!

Sir Dwight, take the south.

South, south, south...

Okay, got it!

Great ride.

Five stars.

Ah!

Pardon!

Stop right there!

Sir Dwight!

Ha-ha!

Hold it right there.

Easy now, Fancy Pants.

We’re not gonna hurt you.

Oh, I intend to hurt you.

Ah!

Sorry!

Good pants, good pants.

No... no, no, no, no, no!

Ahhh!

Huh?

This is getting really old!

On your right!

Ahhhh, ahh.

Remember when we had that kind of energy?

Love the pants!

Thank you!

Ahhhhhh, ahhhh!

Sir Dwight, no!

I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.

My name is Dwight and I don’t deserve this.

I’ve been Citizen of the Month three times this year already.

Do you know how hard that is?

Ooh!

Sir Dwight?!

Honey bear?

Sir Dwight?

Honeybear?

Spiderwebs!

The cry of a frightened damsel.

Nope, that’s my boy.

This way!

That was a boy?

...and I volunteer at the Woodside Senior Center

every Friday.

And who’s gonna organize the Recycling Fair this September

if I’m a pudding?

Huh?

Ah-ha, we’ve hit a dead end!

Huh?

Are you kidding me?!

Listen, I love your tenacity.

You’re a real go-getter.

A real asset to your crazy jester boss.

I’d like to offer you a job

outside of the kid pudding industry.

I could really use your kind of can-do attitude...

How on earth did Ludicriso’s pants

come among our belongings?

No doubt placed there by our enemies.

I’ve lost his trail.

That it should end like this

for Sir Dwight.

Made into a pudding.

He’s not a pudding yet.

There!

You should know...

I-I have athlete’s foot,

a-and intestinal parasites and rabies!

Nobody wants any of that in their pudding!

Ow!

How is this not hurting you?

Do you smell pudding?

Steel yourself, princess.

We may be too late.

Dwight!

Follow that high, dainty scream!

There’s a psycho jester in there, huh?

Ah!

Noooo.

Oh.

Gretta/Baldric/Nana: Noooooo!

Oh.

Look at that.

A fancy shirt.

Not a maniacal jester cannibal?

Aw, they’re so cute.

They just wanted to be together.

Isn’t that darling?

Look at them all cuddled up.

Perhaps Ludicriso is just a bedtime story,

after all?

I was so certain

those pants had a sinister motive.

Well, see?

Everything in the world is not evil

and trying to kill you.

Sometimes, there is an adorable explanation

with a happy ending.

Now there are two of them and they are eyeing us.

Back. Away. Slowly.

Forget it.

Oh, 32,000 steps.

Good for you, sugar pie.

Yeah, I think I’m good for awhile.

On seven, we scatter.

Seven!