Original subtitles

(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)