All language subtitles for My.Favorite.Martian.S02E37.Time.Out.for.Martin.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-NTb_Subtítulos01.ENG

(device humming and beeping)

- Hi, I'm back.

I, uh, hope you don't mind
scrambled eggs for lunch.

I dropped one of the cartons

as I was getting out of the car.

- Tim, the dexterity
of your fingers

is surpassed only
by that of a seal

trying to crochet
with his flippers.

- Well, thanks for
the compliment.

I see that you are the
same insufferable self

you've been for
the past few days.

What'd you do, blow
a fuse in your gizmo?

- Please, do not refer
to the CCTBS as a gizmo.

- I'm sorry.

What is a CCTBS?

- The Cathode-ray
Centrifugal Time Breakascope.

- You mean that this thing
can break the time barrier?

- If I can build up enough
centrifugal force, yes.

You see, Tim, I now know
exactly what went wrong

with my spaceship over
England before I crashed.

- England?

You crashed here, remember?

I found you.

- Of course.

But at the rate of
speed I was traveling,

I started my crash
there and ended it here.

Positioning the geographic
locator to place me

exactly where I was
and turning time back

to moments before the
malfunction occurred,

I can make the
necessary repairs,

avert the crash, and
fly home to Mars.

- Which would make you the
little man who was never here.

- Exactly.

With a few more
minor adjustments,

I should be able
to leave tomorrow.

- Tomorrow?

I was sort of hoping you'd
stick around for a little while.

- Yes, yes, well
(clears throat).

We'll have time
for goodbyes later.

Right now, every moment counts.

(device beeping)

- Hey, the first thing you
better do is fix this machine.

Yeah, it's not
12:00, it's 12:15.

- No, no, Tim!

Tim, don't touch that!

(explosion)

- What happened?

Where are we?

- England.

- England?

- When you reset my clock to
what you believed was 12:15,

you sent us back to merry old
England, and I do mean old.

Take a look in that courtyard.

(medieval music)

We are in the year 1215 A.D.

(beeping)

(adventurous music)

(medieval music)

- We are in the 13th century.

- Yes.

- You're kidding me.

You're putting me on.

- Not at all.

- Holy Toledo.

Well, don't just stand
there, do something.

Fix your clock, get us back.

- An excellent thought.

Only, I'm afraid you
can't resolve the breaking

of time as easily as you
can some broken eggs.

Which, incidentally, you
couldn't have scrambled

any better than
you did my CCTBS.

- Broken?

- An understatement compared
only to Columbus saying,

"I think I've found something."

We'll have to check into the
inn and make major repairs.

No, no, no, no, Tim, not
the way we're dressed.

If we ever tried to explain
the predicament we're in,

we'd undoubtedly set a new
record for witch burning.

- Well, you better
have the address

of a good medieval tailor.

I mean, let's face it,
we left in such a hurry

I just didn't have time
to pack the right clothes.

- A fact I can
remedy more easily

than my CCTBS, I assure you.

Now, come over here, Tim.

Now, get behind those shrubs,
take off your clothes,

and place them in a
pile on the ground.

- You're kidding.

(medieval music)

- Ah, we thank thee.

As a matter of fact, we find
the rooms most sufficient-y.

Well, I, uh, didn't expect
the Presidential Suite,

but this place is
furnished in early nothing.

- Yes, for the people
of this era, perhaps,

but in the 20th century,
Tim, each article

would be an antique
dealer's dream.

- Hey.

Hey!

I never thought of that.

Uncle Martin, I
have a great idea.

While you're fixing
that machine,

why don't I load up
with some of this junk.

We can take it back with us.

We can become the Frank
Bucks of the furniture world,

the bring 'em back
unscratched darlings

of the interior decorator set.

- You forget we're intruders
in this era of time, Tim.

We must not upset
history one iota,

even by removing a
piece of its furniture,

no less getting involved
in the events of the past.

- Oh, great.

Well, you make for a
guy to earn a dollar

than the Bureau of
Internal Revenue.

Don't you want to just take back

one souvenir when we get back?

- Assuming we're
able to get back.

Every one of the circuits of
the CCTBS have been shorted,

not to mention burned wires,
condensers, and whatnot.

- Well, can't you replace them?

I mean, you are the
electronic whiz kid.

- And just where
would you suggest

I get the replacement
parts in 1215 A.D.?

Our only chance is
to try and rebuild

one of the circuits from the
remnant parts of the others.

Give me that knife
over there, will you?

- Well, I uh, I
know it's not much,

but all I can offer
is my moral support.

- Ah, there we are.

- Think it'll work?

- Well, I'm afraid
we're only going to have

one opportunity to find out.

I've got the AQ-12
circuit patched up,

and if the patch holds, we'll
depart exactly at midnight.

- If it doesn't?

No, no, nevermind, I don't
think I want to know.

(men yelling outside)

Hey, cut that out!

- What in the name of Neptune
are you yelling about?

- Well, take a
look for yourself.

The big guy's picking
on the little one.

If someone doesn't help
him, he's a dead duck.

(dramatic music)

- Tim, Tim, come back!

- All right, you (indistinct),

why don't you pick on
someone your own size?

Come on, little fella,
I'll take that for you.

Uncle Martin, if you hadn't
of shown when you did,

I hate to think of
where I'd be right now.

- From the way his sword was
about to come down on you,

I'd say that part of
you would be here,

and the other part of you
would be over there somewhere.

- Well, I just, I
couldn't let gargantuan

clobber the little fella.

Hey, where'd he go?

- Well, with the speed
with which he departed,

I'd say he's somewhere
near London by now.

Unfortunately, if you
hadn't interfered,

he would have beaten
off his attacker,

completed his
mission, and history

would have been spared
this disturbance.

- His mission?

- To deliver this

to the Archbishop of
Canterbury at Runnymede.

- Yikes.

It's the Magna Carta.

- Mm hmm.

One of the most
important instruments

of constitutional
English history.

It guarantees the English
people their rights,

freedom of religion and trial
by a jury of their peers.

- But why were they
fighting over it?

- If you recall your history,

the English barons lead by
the Archbishop of Canterbury

are demanding the
signature of King John,

who prefers that the
Magna Carta didn't exist.

- Oh, I get it, and
junior giant over here

works for the King.

- Mm hmm.

I'm afraid it's up to us now

to deliver it to the Archbishop,

or not only will the history
of England be changed,

but that of the whole world.

- A very noble and
heroic deed, my man,

coming to the aid of
that little fellow

who was being bullied.

I witnessed it all
from my window.

- Thank you, my lady.

- Permit me to introduce myself.

The Duchess of Brimstone.

- Ah, your ladyship.

Um, Martin, a humble sorcerer,
and my apprentice, Timothy.

- Ah, a wizard!

Then perhaps you can
conjure up the cause

of such a happening?

- Oh, well, you see,
King Kong over here,

uh, I mean the big fella,
well he was trying to--

- Uh, throw his weight
around, so to speak, milady.

- The parchment, it has
nothing to do with him?

- No, milady, not a
thing, it belongs to me.

It contains the formula
for certain powers.

- Well, your heroism
should not go unrewarded.

Please be my guest
at supper tonight.

- A great honor, I assure you.

However ...

- Nay, I shall not
brook with any excuses.

At supper then.

Oaf!

Blunderer!

The King shall have your
head for botching this up.

- But Duchess, it
wasn't my fault.

A stranger--

- Ugh, agents of the Archbishop,

posing as sorcerer
and apprentice.

Both half your size at that.

Fortunately for us,
they are still here,

and have the
parchment with them.

- I'll lop off their heads.

- First, Basil, we must get
the parchment and destroy it.

Then, do as you will with them.

I have arranged to entertain
them at supper tonight.

While I do, you shall
slip into their room

and destroy the Magna Carta.

- Suppose they don't stay
put at the supper table?

- This pellet in the older one's
wine will take care of him.

I shall take care of
the younger one myself.

And this time, Basil,
we dare not fail,

or the King will
have both our heads.

(dramatic music)

- It may be considered
ill-mannered to eat and run,

but if we're to
accomplish our mission

and make the midnight ride
back to the 20th century,

time is of the essence.

Milady.

- Gentlemen.

Sorcerer on my left, your
apprentice on my right.

- Oo, what an oaf is here.

I seem to have forgotten
something in my room.

With your ladyship's leave?

- Of course, but first
a toast to the King.

- Shortly, my lady,
I must to my room.

- You wouldn't place a
humble sorcerer's needs

above a toast to His
gracious Majesty, would you?

- Ah, uh, no.

- To His Majesty,
long live the King.

(dramatic music)

- Martin?

I mean, master, oh
whiz of wizards.

Martin?

Marty?

- Your master doesn't
seem to be able

to hold his wine too well.

- Yes, milady.

I think best I take him
back to our quarters.

- And miss a delicious supper,
on a night with a full moon?

A fool you seem not.

- Well I uh, I can't, milady.

- Forget my title.

Think of me as just
an average woman.

- Ah, if you're average,

I've been dating
boys all this time.

- All has been done, my lady.

- Good.

We'll bring the news to
King John immediately.

Now go fix the horses.

- Duchess?

Uh, Duchess?

Your ladyship?

Uncle Martin?

Where'd everybody go?

- [Martin] Here, Tim.

Here.

- Where?

Where?

- [Martin] In the goblet.

I'm in the goblet.

- What are you doing in there?

Better yet, how did
you get in there?

- The Duchess drugged my wine.

It would have poisoned a human.

However, on me it altered
my metabolic system

and as you can see, shrank me.

When I came to, I
found I had fallen

into the drink, so to speak.

(indistinct)

- Sorry.

- And to make matters worse,

while I was unconscious
due to the drug,

and you by the lady's wiles,
Basil sneaked up to our room

and burned the Magna Carta.

- Uncle Martin, I think
I need an aspirin,

and a glass of water.

- Understandably so,
but would you mind

using another goblet?

This one's occupied right now.

Tim, I do wish you
wouldn't stare at me

as if I were some sort
of sideshow freak.

- Well, let's face it, up
to now you haven't been

the easiest person to explain.

And now, in this uh, vest
pocket Martian edition,

you're not going
to be any easier.

- Tim, I have no
intention of remaining

an intergalaxial Tom Thumb.

Just as soon as we
get to Runnymede,

I shall get the antidote
that will return me to size.

- Runnymede?

You mean you still
intend to go there?

- We haven't much choice.

The Duchess is there
with King John,

laughing at us right
now, and the only thing

that will bring me back to size

is the exact same
drug that shrank me.

Besides, we still
have to deliver the
Magna Carta, remember?

- Uncle Martin, you have an
ingenious mechanical mind,

but right now, I think one
of your screws is loose.

The Magna Carta was burned
to a crisp, remember?

Now don't tell me you
intend to unburn it.

- Under normal circumstances,
I could revitalize

the carbons and
reconstruct the molecules.

However, in my
present state, I uh,

I don't have enough power.

- Then just what do you intend
to deliver in its place?

- An extremely
reasonable facsimile.

Grab a quill, Tim, and get some

of that parchment
out of the drawer.

(dramatic music)

- You all right?

- [Martin] All right.

- You sure?

- [Martin] Of course I'm sure.

For goodness sake Tim,
stop worrying about me

and find the King's chamber,

or we'll both have
something to worry about.

- Look, why don't we just
give it to the Archbishop

and let him get it signed?

- [Martin] Simply because
once you upset the course

of history, who knows what waves
the splash may have caused.

We'll have to see it
through now ourselves.

- Excellent, my dear Duchess.

Excellent, my dear, excellent.

You have fulfilled
your mission well.

- Thank you, my lord King.

Now all that is left is to
do away with the Archbishop.

- Hmm?

The Archbishop?

Oh, nay, nay, nay.

The lives of men mean
naught to me but ...

(belches)

The wrath of the heavens.

- But Sire, he is the leader
of the rebellious barons.

The champion of
freedom for the people.

He must be rid of if we,
I mean, if your Majesty

is to retain all the
power so rightly his.

- My dear, you're even a
greater scoundrel than I,

without a single
redeeming virtue.

- Thank you, Your Majesty.

I've had an excellent
tutor, Your Majesty.

- Well, after supper, I shall
consult with my sorcerer,

and ensure that the
omens are with us.

- Boy, if that's being
born to the purple,

I'd rather have varicose veins.

- Don't blame the entire
royal family, Tim.

Many a family tree
needs trimming.

Quickly now, slip
me under the door.

- Under the door?

You mean like a telegram?

- Almost.

John may be a tyrant, but
he's a superstitious man,

and I'm about to deliver
him some bad news.

- What about me?

- Just stay out here and
keep out of trouble, hmm?

- Easy, careful.

- A meal fit for a
king, Your Majesty.

Too bad you don't
behave like one.

- You spoke, Your Majesty?

- No, not I.

The drumstick.

- The drumstick spoke?

- Oh, an ill omen,
I am sure of it.

No doubt due to our planning
to mur, mur, mur ...

Do away with the Archbishop.

- Nonsense, Your Majesty.

Your mind is playing tricks.

The tension of the last
few days has been great.

Some more wine will calm you.

- Careful, Your Majesty.

The wine she serves may
contain something, ah,

to get rid of you as
well as the Archbishop.

- No wine!

- Why not?

- Do not think me a
complete and utter fool.

Your ambitions are not so
easily cloaked as your figure.

- Your Majesty, surely
you don't think--

- Most surely I do think so.

You were not satisfied with
the gifts and the powers

that I lavished upon you,
now you seek to murder me!

- Sire, that is not so.

- [Martin] Then why
do you still carry

the poison pellets
in your purse?

- Who said that?

- The, the, the drumstick.

Oh, what's the difference.

(eerie music)

There, you see?

Do you deny it?

- The pellets were left over

after I killed the
sorcerer at the inn.

- [Martin] That's impossible.

I'm here.

(eerie music)

(Martin gulping)

- No wonder I am cursed.

Trying to kill a sorcerer?

- You have only one
way to rid yourself

of the curse, Your Majesty.

Sign the Magna Carta, and all
will be right in your reign.

- But the Magna
Carta's been destroyed!

- Not when in the
hands of a sorcerer.

Tim!

- You're back!

- Spare the welcome home, Tim.

Time and tide wait for
no Martian and friend.

- Pay no attention to him!

Don't sign it, it's
a trick of some kind.

- Your Majesty.

- I can't let you do it.

My power, yours, they
will fall to the people.

Basil, Basil!

Come quickly, come quickly!

- How dare you!

- Uh oh, here comes
that ho ho ho again.

- I'll leave it up to you
to keep him occupied, Tim.

I've got to make the King sign.

Opportunity knocks but once.

- Uncle Martin, that isn't
opportunity knocking.

That's my knees.

- [John] Give me that quill.

- Madam, where is he?

Where is he?

- Uncle Martin?

Ha ha, you asked for it!

I only wish I could
give it to you.

- Your Majesty.

- Your Majesty, I
beseech you, don't sign--

- Silence, silence woman.

- Don't sign it, Your Majesty.

Oh, Your Majesty.

- I have signed it, I have
signed the Magna Carta.

- Oh, Your Majesty,
let me talk to you ...

- Uncle Martin!

(eerie music)

Well, I uh, I guess
I showed him, huh?

All he really needs
now is a little sticker

that says "don't
open til Christmas."

- The Archbishop is coming.

Well, Tim, I think half
our job is just about done.

- And half of our job
is just about well done.

Take a look!

The inn, it's on fire.

(dramatic music)

- Your Grace, here you
are, with our compliments.

(flames crackling)

(Tim and Martin coughing)

Are you all right, Tim?

- Yeah, fine, but I swear,
if we ever get back,

I'll never complain about
Los Angeles smog again.

- Well, we better find
my CCTBS before midnight,

or we're both ancient history.

Tim, Tim!

Tim, I've found it,
here it is, quick.

Quick, give me your hand.

- Give you my hand?

I can't even find it myself.

- Quickly Tim, quickly.

The hands of the
clock are straight up.

Touchdown, here goes.

(explosion)

- We made, Uncle
Martin, we made it!

- We did, but I'm
afraid the CCTBS didn't.

It's completely melted away.

- Sorry, Uncle Martin,
it's all my fault.

I got you into this
mess in the first place,

and I almost busted up history.

Listen, if you hadn't
written a new Magna Carta ...

- Don't berate yourself, Tim.

Eventually, I'll
build another CCTBS.

And besides, I enjoyed
the little job I did.

As a brilliant
scholar once said,

"Anyone can make history.

"It takes a great
man to rewrite it."

- Whose quote is that?

- Mine.

I often quote myself.

It usually adds something
to the conversation.

(adventurous music)