All language subtitles for Class.of.Nuke.Em.High.Part.II.Subhumanoid.Meltdown.1991.1080p.Amazon.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.x264-QOQ

Tromaville, New Jersey, 1986.

Whilst the carcinogous
clouds of Chernobyl

wreaked havoc over
Eastern Europe,

something even more
funky was festering.

A careless leak of toxic liquids

escaped from the Tromaville
nuclear power facility...

Not another leak.

And seeped into the water

supply of nearby
Tromaville High School.

Ptooey.

These horrible,
unmentionable fluids

caused the student body to
mutate and transmogrify.

And worse, it
caused them to dance badly

when The Smithereens showed up.

Some thought they
were OK, but no one

was safe from the
rabid radiation

and its strange
hormone reversing

side effects, not even virgins.

Some of the
students gained superhuman

strength, while
others simply spewed

up mangly, mutant monsters.

Hm.

What the?

Tromaville High
became Nuke 'Em High,

and there was only one
way for the class of Nuke

'Em High to stop the
mutant monster force.

They had to destroy
their school.

But that was
then, and this is a sequel.

Today, through the
generosity of the great, ever

altruistic, multinational
Nukamama Corporation,

the Tromaville
nuclear power facility

has been rebuilt.
Even more altruistic,

the Nukamama Corporation
graciously volunteered

to construct a beautiful
junior college, the Tromaville

Institute of Technology,
on the premises

and inside of the
twin-towered nuclear facility.

The fact that this
was the only way

to get clearance
for the construction

of the nuclear power
plant from the government

nuclear regulatory
agencies had nothing

to do with this
generous contribution

to America's educational system.

Today, Tromaville Tech is
a beautiful, serene campus

where young,
inquisitive minds can

gain a firsthand dose of the
wonders of the Nuclear Age.

Even a fine academic
institution, such as Tromaville

Tech, has its little day
to day idiosyncrasies,

such as daily
malathion sprayings.

Spray those luscious

melons for fruit flies.

Hold still.

Ow.

Limited locker
space, causing students

to wear limited clothing, an
occasional foreign exchange

student that just
doesn't fit it,

and every once in a while, a
messy, but perfectly harmless,

spill of toxic, radioactive
waste materials.

For the most part, however,
campus life at Tromaville Tech

was perfectly normal.

Well, almost normal.

Help me!

We're all going to hell.

Help!

Oh!

Help me!

Get out my way, chief.

This girl isn't exactly
a feather, you know.

What's wrong with your girl?

She looks a little pasty.

Look, we'll have coffee later
and talk about it, all right?

Right now, get out of my way.

And get a hold of yourself.
- Me?

I'm fine.

You're fat.

Hang on, Victoria.

Don't die.

Please don't die.

Diane, this is Troma Tech Times
ace reporter, Roger Smith,

dictating what may well
be my goodbye byline.

Yipes!

Whoa!

Wait for me, girls.

Wait for me.

I think I'm too fat.

Ow!

Whoa!

I'm reporting to you
live, but not for long,

from the scene of the
destruction of Tromaville

as we know it.

If anyone survives this
disaster and finds this tape,

I hope I win a
posthumous Pulitzer.

Or at least I hope you sell the
story as a movie of the week.

Oh, it's the most horrible
thing I've ever seen,

worse than the Geraldo Show.

Why does this world have to be
filled with so much greed, so

much mistrust, so much hatred?

Caused by human
beings with absolutely

no respect for human emotions.

All they care about
is making money.

I know I should be
reporting objectively,

but I can't anymore.

This time it's
gotten too personal.

I'm about to lose the only
person, the only being

that I've ever truly loved.

All because of them.

Please God.

Please don't take
this one life from me.

Show me a way to save her life.

You know, like the
mother who saved her kid

from underneath the
Volkswagen by picking

it up in the parking lot.

Well, maybe not that
miraculous, but something, God.

Please.

I promise to study
harder, not to abuse

any type of recreational
drugs, no more beer

drinking, no more Troma movies.

Anything you want, God.

Just please, give
me the know-how.

Show me the light.

Light the way.

Guide me on the right path.

Show me the right road.

Take me by the hand.

Sing me a song.

Cry me a river.

Um, I mean, I mean I don't
know what I mean anymore, Lord.

Whoever finds this tape, if you
can't get my article printed,

please at least find a way to
save my dearest love, Victoria.

Damn.

Who would've thought
college would

have turned out like this?

a few short weeks ago,
everything on campus

was perfectly normal.

Yes, Tromaville
Institute of Technology

was indeed the finest
academic community

on the face of the globe.

Students came from all
four corners of the world

to tour this state
of the art campus.

Ouch, Grandma.

Pay attention, and
move it, shithead.

It's your fucking future.

OK.

Let's move.

of the nuclear
reactor, which was

operated entirely by students.

Thanks to the
hands-on experience

working with everything from
isotope cores to uranium rods,

our brains were growing,
and our bodies were glowing.

Other fine campus features
included the newly relocated

Richard Milhous Nixon Library,
CPR classes, and, of course,

wonderful teacher
to student ratios.

A proper diet was extremely
important to everyone,

but for some strange reason, the
cafeteria only served plastic

and rubber novelty toys.

At Tromaville
Tech, they stressed

a sound mind and sound body,
in a sound gas mask, of course.

Water sports were
especially popular

among the carcinogenic crowd.

Now how's that for a chest, huh?

And they got extra credit too.

In the unlikely event
that a student fell ill,

he received the finest
of medical treatment.

Chopsticks.

Is there supposed to
be that much blood?

Tromaville
Tech was fair to all

its students, poor or rich.

Those who were not endowed, and
those who were well-endowed.

But all communities

have their dirty rodents,
and the Tromaville Institute

of Technology was no exception.

It had a gang of naughty boys
and girls called The Squirrels.

The Squirrels were
led by a suave...

But ruthless leader named Yoke.

Checking for malathion

around your anus, ma'am.

This won't hurt a bit.

Oof.

Get out.

The gang, called

The Squirrels, and their
she-male Squirrelettes,

were without fear when
it came to terrorizing

the students of the campus.

Nothing frightened
the Squirrels.

Nothing except young,
prepubescent boys

on roller blades.

The Institute was directed by
the Dean Okra, who was assisted

by his able-bodied air
woman, Professor Holt,

in charge of the
Science Department.

And, of course, there
was me, Roger Smith.

Honor student by day, and
lover of all women by night.

You stink.

As ace
reporter for the Tromaville

Tech Times, I had a pretty
good eye for detail,

and I noticed problems creeping
into campus life which may

have escaped the untrained eye.

Namely, there just weren't
enough parking spaces.

And freshman seemed to be
freaking out from time to time.

Oh gosh!

No!

I figured
it was nothing to worry about.

It was just that they hadn't
waited a half hour after eating

before going into the
swimming pool, something you

must always be careful about.

Ah!

Ha, ha.

Nothing to worry about.

Hi, Roger.

It's Sophia.

Thanks for the
invite, but that's

the same day I'm going
to the eye doctor's,

so maybe another time, OK?

Hi, Roger.

It's Linda.

Can't make it tonight.

I'm already going
out with Steve.

Sorry.

Better luck next time.

Hi, Roger.

It's Linda.

I asked my friends about
you, and they told me I'd be

better off dating a water bug.

Bye.

Hi, Roger.
It's Jill.

Listen, I didn't have
the heart to tell you,

but Mark and I are going
steady again, thanks to you.

Your phone message made Mark so
jealous, we got back together.

Now we're having sex
about six times a day.

Got to go.

Mark's here, and we're going
to try that position 99.

Nice work.

Your article's on page one.

Thank you, Captain.

Do something about the B.O.
Well, if I can't get laid,

at least I get to
see my name in print.

Stop calling
me, or I'm getting a lawyer.

Want sex bad?

Boy, do I ever.

First come, first served.

Quarter to five.

Better get going.

Roger, you stink.

Roger.

It's me, your mother.

Have you met a nice girl yet?

Cigarette?

Courtesy of Nukamama
Corporation.

Hey.

What about me?

Forget it, buddy.

You stink.

Those are bad for you.

Let me guess your
panty colors, girls.

I swear, I'll guess.

Oh, there's Stinky.

Tonight I'm going to
participate as the subject

in a scientific experiment.

At the very worst,
this experience

shall pick my
journalistic instincts

and provide valuable fodder for
an upcoming newsworthy article.

And if I'm lucky, I
may even get some sex.

More notes for
upcoming articles.

Why is the world turning
into such a violent society?

Today all fun is
centered around drinking

and drugs, loud heavy
metal music, and sex.

At least there's
one bright spot.

Nothing has changed the cute
little Tromaville squirrels.

They're still the innocent
little nut-gathering rodents

that God intended them to be.

What happened to the days when
students walked across campus,

helping each other
with their studies,

and helping each other
to carry their books?

NURSE: Adorable little baby.

Isn't she precious?

Oh, I'm not proud of this
world to which I am an occupant.

I'll give you an A.

YOKE: You better, or next
time I'll use a hammer on you.

Hey, baby.

What's wrong with you?

I don't think I
can hold anymore.

Release my grip.

Someone help my baby!

You're okay, doll.

It's okay.

Pig!

All you men are pigs!

Uh-oh.

No more homework!

No more homework!

Single file.

Hey, you with the flowers.

You're next.

Me next!

I wanna go!

No, me!

Don't take
all night in there.

Next.

Get out of here.

Okay, Smith.

You're number 66.

Remember that.

Take me, take me.

Keep in line.

Single file.

Next.

Hi, Professor Holt. Do we
get any credits for this?

Smith, isn't it?

You get $8, Smith,
and perhaps the most

pleasurable sexual
experience imaginable.

Now when was the last time
you had sexual relations?

Well, I'd say about 25
times in the last month.

Yeah right, Smith.

Might I remind you that we do
not include self-flagellation?

What's going to happen to me?

What kind of an
experiment is this?

Now don't be nervous.

This experiment will
determine several

different scientific things that
you need know nothing about.

I can also assure
you that in no way

will we be judgmental
of your performance

during this experiment,
and we will not

ask you to do anything
embarrassing, humiliating,

or abnormal at any time.

Now get in that next room,
and strip down naked.

Next?

Now when was the last time
you had sexual relations?

Come on, come on.

Let's go, 66.

Step this way.

Ew, that smell.

Now for your pleasure this
evening, we have a wide variety

of prophylactics available.

We have biodegradable,
inflatable, deflatable,

reflatable, and edible.

And a ribbed condom.

And in your case,
perhaps I might suggest

our special deodorant condom.

Tonight only, we're offering
a special price for our gift

pack of two dozen rubbers.

How much for one prophylactic?

I'll tell you what, kid.

Take this one.

It's on the house.

I only used it once.

Boner appetit.

A little condom humor.

Ta ta.

Good evening, number 66.

In order to make your experience
as pleasurable as possible,

I want you to do
everything I say.

Please remove your shirt.

Very nice.

Now, put on the blindfold
you see on the table.

Good.

Remember, no peeking allowed.

Now turn around,
and sit on the bed.

No peeking, number 66, or
you'll lose your 8 bucks.

Very good, number 66.

I'm Victoria.

I'm Roger.

Hello, Roger.

Hello.

Wow.

No peeking, Number 66.

Oh.

Ah, ooh, oh.

This is most interesting.

Indeed it is.

She's serviced 65 men in
less than three hours.

And she made each one
feel like he was special.

You're quite a
genius, Professor.

Not to mention, a
delectable sex kitten.

Over-aroused buffoon.

I'm not talking about the sex.

I'm talking about the emotion.

Seems like she's not
a subhumanoid at all.

I detect some kind of feeling.

Looks like she's
actually enjoying

the sex with this one Roger.

She seems to be
captivated by him somehow.

Roger Smith has struck out
with every girl on campus.

Maybe she feels sorry for him.

But that's just it.

Being a subhumanoid means
never having to feel sorry.

Ever since I was a young girl,

I'd dreamed of creating
the perfect subservient

being by combining human
and non-human life forms.

While my peers were
into dressing dolls,

I was into combining
chromosomes in search

of the perfect human slave.

That was the whole idea
behind this project,

to create a living,
breathing being that was

unthinking and unfeeling.

Kind of like a New Yorker.

That's a crude comparison,
but yes, that's it exactly.

It took years of painstaking
research and countless attempts

at sexually deranged,
perverted, totally unnatural,

and disgusting experiments.

Will you show me?

You know how I love
it when you show me.

Come.

Feels so good.

It's almost like you've
got a mouth down there.

I began the process of
gene splicing slowly,

first experimenting with denim.

Based
on my early success,

I moved on to Stage Two,
combining human chromosomes

with those of other life forms.

Here, I combined a common lizard
with a member of the Hair Group

for Men.

And this is
the result of combining a Homo

sapiens and a winged insect.

And this is a cross between
a large sophomore

and a trained dolphin
who was bulimic.

Finally, I decided that the
best way to achieve my desired

results was to
tamper with the gene

pool resulting from
the cross mating

of a primate and a human.

Of course, the real breakthrough
came when women discovered

that with gorillas, they
could have sex, even

with their bathing suits on.

Taking these
inter-species chromosomes,

and using a proprietary
method of gene splicing, film

splicing, and
nuclear fusion, I am

able to mass produce
adult and young adult

subhumanoids at the rate
of one every 38 seconds.

In this
incubation chamber,

the subhumanoids develop within
a perfectly balanced ecosystem,

from infancy to full pubescence
in approximately nine months.

They think of me as
their mommy, and quite

frankly, I encourage it.

After all, a subhumanoid's
best friend is his mother.

I'm coming, I'm coming.

Hold your horses, already.

Jeez.

Careful, Professor.

These fumes have quite a
kick if you're not wearing

a protective silver suit.

As you know, my
goal was to create

a breed of superior
beings, living,

breathing, humanoid beings...

With working parts.

Custom made and
genetically programmed

to feel no pain, no emotion,
no weather extremes, no hair

on the face, and to be
superior in strength

to the normal human.

Oh!

Now what do you say?

Thank you.

As you see, Dean Okra, these
artificially manufactured

subhumanoids virtually
have no minds of their own,

and can be used to
perform menial tasks

that the normal human would
find tedious and distasteful,

such as doing windows.

As the subhumanoids
integrate into society,

the quality of life for the
rest of us will improve.

DEAN OKRA: Especially
the quality of life

for the Nukamama Corporation.

Once we use your subhumanoids
to replace the millions

of overpaid, blue collar,
working class scum that

are employed by
our subsidiaries,

our profits will
rise astronomically.

Profits?

You said you were funding
my work to better mankind.

Of course we're
bettering mankind.

With your subhumanoids, we'll
change the world as we know it.

Why should men and
women be forced

to die in wars when these
moronic zombies can die for us.

Why should we be forced to
take on menial factory jobs

when the subhumanoids
can do them for us,

and better than us?

Certainly, you didn't
think we had such base

motives as money and
power in mind when

we agreed to fund your dream?

Besides, soon we
will have the funds

we needed for the
super, bio, chemical,

nucleotron, radiation,
physics laboratory

that you want to build.

Just play along, my dear,
and I will help you become

the world's greatest scientist.

With the help of those
delightfully delinquent

Squirrels, we've
almost completely

integrated the subhumanoids
into campus life.

Yes, Professor Holt, your
babies are everywhere.

Soon we will allow them to
spill over into Tromaville

Proper, and then the world.

But, but...

No buts.

Trust me.

I am your friend.

All right, all right.

You can carry my books,
just stop choking me.

Diane, I don't know
what's happened to me.

I've never felt this way
before, but last night I

met someone, and
ever since, I can't

seem to get her off my mind.

All around me those
asshole Squirrels are

terrorizing the student body...

But I don't care.

All I can think
about is Victoria.

If I only knew her last name,
or, or where I could find her.

You deserve to die.

This will teach you
to do better than me.

Toxie, where'd you come from?

Toxie!

Wait a minute, wait a minute.

Cut!

What is that?

Who is that guy?

Help me, help me.

Get him off the set.

I'm getting boned again here.

I can't believe this.

I'll handle it.

Melvin, Toxie, baby.

You're killing me here.

We're trying to shoot the sequel
to Class of Nuke 'Em High.

You're supposed to be on Stage
C on the other side of the lot.

-OK.

Come on now.

Everybody back to one.
Let's go.

Come on, one more time.

DIRECTOR: Roll sound,
camera, and action.

Diane, this is lovelorn
ace reporter, Roger Smith,

trying to distract myself from
thoughts of the lovely Victoria

by covering the sports beat.

COACH: Come on.

Look to the drive,
look to the drive.

Bring it back now,
right behind you.

All right, Amy.

Amy, over here.

Amy, I'm open.

As you know, ever since the
unexpected arrival of transfer

student, Amy... Diane,
make a note to find out

what this girl's last name is.

Anyway, ever since
Amy has arrived,

the Tromaville Tech basketball
team, women's division,

has won every game
they've played.

And quite frankly, watching
Amy here at practice,

it's no surprise.

She is an incredibly
gifted athlete.

Diane, you're not going to
believe what I just saw happen.

Nothing
to worry about, girls.

Don't get excited.

She just had a little too much
exercise after a big meal.

Well, well, well.

If it isn't our
little ass reporter.

That's ace reporter.

Yeah right, your dork.

You guys are all sick.

You act like cretins.

We are cretins.

You're sick.

You're so right, Roger.

We are sick cretins.

How disgusting of us.

Yeah.

And sick people never
forget their enemies.

Diane.

Hi, Roger.

Hi.

Have I got a tape for you today.

Is Professor Jones in?

Who?

Professor Jones.

I don't know.

Let me see.

Hello?

Professor Jones, are you in?

Hello?

Hello?

Smith?

Are you ill?

Honey, we don't go to
print for another 24 hours.

You don't mean to tell me
you actually intend to hand

something in before deadline?

Well, I certainly don't
want to ruin my reputation,

but this time I think
I've got a real scoop.

You wouldn't believe what I
was witness to this afternoon

on the basketball court?

Oh.

In my office now.

It's time you learned what
journalism is really about.

Now what's this
about basketball?

Since when are you following
the sports beat, Smith?

It was incredible, and
I saw the whole thing.

Our star player goes berserk,
tears a backboard off the pole,

attacks the other players,
and melts down into a gob

of goo right before my eyes.

This is major news,
Professor Jones.

You actually saw this,
this melting person?

Absolutely, ma'am.

Saw it with my own
eyes, turned right

into a big mess of green goo.

Did you notice anything
unusual about this person

before you witnessed
this so-called meltdown?

Well, she was acting sort
of strange and zombie-like,

kind of subhuman.

So you'd say you witnessed
a subhumanoid meltdown?

Well, yeah.

I guess you could call it
that, a subhumanoid meltdown.

think there's a place for such
a story in our publication.

Come back when you've got
something really juicy.

But it really happened.

It's the truth.

Well, nobody wants
to read the truth.

I don't understand.

There's no money in the
truth, you journalist jerk off.

People want to read gossip.

Slimy, dirty, sleazy gossip.

That's where the money is, my
friend, in rumors and lies,

in falsehoods and exaggerations.

Do you know how much a
Pulitzer Prize-winning writer

as a reporter earns a year?

Bup-kiss.

Forget about the truth.

Go out there and bring me some
dirt, and get out of here.

Diane, I know I am sick with
love for my sweet, unknown

Victoria, but I'm really
going to be sick if I

don't get something to eat.

Today's specials are
dolphin head salad, dolphin

burritos, and dolphin burgers.

I'll talk to you later.

Can I have the
lizard if you don't want it?

They're very low
in saturated fat.

Hey, it's Smith,
that asshole reporter.

You again?

Hey!

Put some
beer cologne on him.

You thirsty?

Spill in aisle six.

Please dispatch the
janitorial staff.

Allow me.

I must clean up.

Watch it, that's glass.

Oh, look.

You're a mess.

Let me help.

Hey, watch it.

Victoria?

Don't you remember me?

It's me, Roger.

Hello, Roger.

It's me, Roger,
from the experiment.

You know, last
night, you and me?

Professor Holt's experiment.

Professor Holt?

You were with Mommy Holt?

Well, sort of, I mean
she introduced us.

You and me.

Last night, remember?

Of course.

Roger.

Wow.

Like, you can't believe
how cool this is.

I'm so glad I ran
into you like this.

After last night, I
wanted to see you again,

but I didn't know how.

And there's so much stuff I want
to tell you about myself that I

don't know where to begin.

Um, I'm majoring in English.

Uh, I'm a reporter for
the Troma Tech Times.

You know, the newspaper?

Uh, Professor Holt's
experiment was the first time I

ever volunteered for anything.

I love Mommy, or Professor Holt.

Well, did I tell you
that I was Professor

Holt's favorite student?

You are?

You mean, Professor
Holt likes you?

Likes me?

She loves me.

What do you think she wanted us
to get together for last night?

Wow.

That's so interesting.

Hm.

You know, Victoria, Professor
Holt's always telling me

I should meet a nice girl.

You know, get a girlfriend.

Really?

Yeah.

And so,
Victoria became my girlfriend.

Use this.

This should knock him out.

I've never
fed squirrels with a girl

before.

I didn't know what
I was missing.

I've never felt like this.

I feel kind of dizzy,
and sick at times.

I'm experiencing something
that's very strange.

Love can be a
very strange thing.

Love?

Is that what you call it?

That's what I call it.

Hm.

Hm.

Love.

Roger, love is a many
splendored thing.

You know, Victoria?

Love makes the world go round.

All you need is love.

Whee!

Oops.

Victoria.

Victoria.

Victoria, are you OK?

Wow.

Love hurts.

Victoria, I'm sorry.

Stop it.

Don't you know anything, Roger?

Love means never having
to say you're sorry.

Come on.

Now it's my turn to spin you.

Whoa!

Oops.

Dear Roger, it's really
fun being in love with you.

I've never done anything
like this before.

I have to meet Professor
Holt at 4 o'clock.

Maybe I can meet you after, and
we can do that sex thing again.

You know, like in
the experiment.

Signed, Victoria.

Mm, Vicky.

Blow in my ear, and I'll
follow you anywhere.

Hey!

Why are we being sprayed?

We aren't fruit.

Look, kid.

I'm just doing my job.

Nothing more, nothing less.

They told us to get rid of the
malathion, so we're doing it.

Well, I heard that
malathion stuff wasn't

supposed to be good for you.

Don't be such a pansy.

The test results
aren't even out yet.

You got plenty of time to
worry about it, pretty boy.

Let's go.

You,
my virgin subhumanoid,

my virgin subhumanoid, it's
time for you to learn to mate.

Yes, Mommy Holt.

And you my subhumanoid with
melon heavy breasts, it's time

for you to teach the
subhumanoid virgin how to mate.

You are subhumanoid virgin.

I am subhumanoid woman
with melon heavy breasts.

You must mate now.

I said mating time,
not feeding time.

Oh God, you can't get
good subhumanoids anymore.

Professor, this
one is showing early signs

of the meltdown syndrome.

My baby, I must
figure out why this

is happening to you
before it's too late

and innocent people are harmed.

Oh, my poor beautiful baby.

I must discover...

Holt
was desperate to save

her beloved subhumanoids, and
in secret, she worked tirelessly

to develop an
antidote which would

bring the creatures back to
their beautiful natural selves.

Hello, my little subhumanoids.

Mommy's got to get a little,
little specimen from you.

It'll hardly even hurt.

Yes, see now
that wasn't so bad, was it?

Yes, that's right.

There we go.

That's right.

That's right.

Good little subhumanoid.

That's right.

Mommy's gonna make
you all better, OK?

Professor
Holt was racing against time

to save the subhumanoids.

This
essence of subhumanoid

should stop them
from melting down,

if I can just get
them to swallow it.

Hello, Dean Okra?

This is Janice Jones.

Yes, that's right, the blond.

Listen, is everything all right
with your special project?

One of my reporters,
Roger Smith,

says he witnessed a meltdown.

Sounds like some of
your subhumanoids

may be malfunctioning.

Yes, that's right, Smith.

Yes, of course I will.

Right away.

When Holt's research determined

that the bald, melon-heavy
female subhumanoids were

the high risk group,
she immediately

tried the antidote on them.

Look what Mama Holt's
got for you, some candy.

Now open up wide.

Come on now.

Good girl.

Now I know it tastes
awful, but the serum

culled from the
sapherical remains

of your melted down brother
will act as a coagulant,

and counteract and inhibit the
spontaneous meltdown syndrome

that seems to plague you.

That's a good girl.

Holt!

Let me in!

Let me in immediately.

Oh, that fat fart.

I can't let him know about this.

Coming!

Now, what's this I hear about
subhumanoids malfunctioning?

I've received several
disturbing reports.

And even a few of
my Squirrels tell me

that you've been using
them to help dispose

of a few of your mistakes.

Well, there does seem to be a
slight flaw in that last batch,

but I'm working on it.

I just need a little time.

Foolish woman!

There is no more time.

I've already reported to
the board of directors

that campus integration
is a complete success.

They're expecting me to deliver
the subhumanoids for phase two

on Friday.

Friday?

It's not enough time.

It'll never be ready.

It's much too dangerous.

Not as dangerous as it will be
for you if you do not live up

to your obligations, Professor.

And I would hate to lose someone
as intelligent and attractive

as yourself.

But as you know, my
dear, first and foremost,

I'm a company man.

Oh.

By the way, I
promised Yoke I'd let

him borrow a couple
of subhumanoids

to entertain the Squirrels.

Why don't you send
over these two?

Unbeknownst
to Professor Holt, Dean Okra

and his Squirrel
gang were subjecting

the subhumanoids to constant
mental and physical abuse.

Allow me to introduce Harvey!

Harvey, fetch me a brew!

In the
eyes of Yoke and his cretinous

followers, subhumanoids weren't
even second-class citizens.

Thank you, Harvey.

You see how fine an
associate this man is?

They were treated

as slaves, destined
to serve the whims

of the so-called superior race.

I don't think I'm
thirsty anymore,

so why don't you have the beer?

Thank you.

So eager to please,

he didn't even know he
was hurting himself.

You like that, don't you?

Tastes great.

Less filling.

Unaware
of the abuse they suffered

elsewhere, Holt tried
to save her babies

from meltdown syndrome.

Attention students.

Be aware that
there will be nude,

bald women being led through the
plant by Professor Holt. Please

show them the
respect they deserve.

While that
fat egghead, Yoke, was feeding

glass to poor, innocent
subhumanoid Harvey,

Professor Holt continued to
try and perfect her antidote

to the subhumanoid
meltdown syndrome,

but time was running out.

All right.

We having fun?

Harvey, you having fun now?

Harvey, he's enjoying this.

Oh my God.

Meltdown alert.

Meltdown alert.

Attention all meltdown
squad members.

Meltdown alert in section seven.

What happened to Harvey?

Oh!

Oh, ow!

Ooh, ee!

Oh!

Ow!

Ow!

No, no, no!

Professor
Holt, Dean Okra,

please report to section seven.

so much
vermin to see all of a sudden...

What about the girl?

Victoria?

What girl?

This Harvey guy was
the only sub we got.

I thought I told you
to send the girl too.

I did.

I don't know where she is.

What happened to Victoria?

I don't know.

I never saw her.

Oh, my poor subhumanoid.

Where are you?

Of
course, I knew where she was.

I can't believe
you're here with me.

I'm glad you feel that way.

I do too.

But I must leave now.

Wait.

Don't go.

Just stay a little longer.

I can't, Roger.

Why not?

You don't know what
I'm going through.

I've never done
anything like this.

I lied to somebody just
to be with you tonight.

Just my luck.

You've got a boyfriend,
and I'm the fling.

You don't understand.

I've never done this before.

I was programmed to
think that I couldn't

have any feelings, that I could
never feel anything for anyone.

Programmed?

What are you talking about?

I must go.

I love you, Victoria.

I want to see your beautiful
maiden fern in the light.

Oh!

Oh, oh.

Wait,
Victoria, come back.

YOKE: There she is!

Grab her!

No!

Look who I found,
now just returning.

According to campus
security, she

was seen leaving the
lowlife's room of Roger Smith.

You intentionally disobeyed
us to be with that idiot?

Just because
Victoria had lips on her belly

didn't stop me from loving her.

I had to find her.

What explanations do you have?

Victoria is
extraordinarily intelligent.

I've been observing
her for some time.

Her increased exposure
to the human members

of the student
body have resulted

in some unexpected reactions.

Oh crap, Holt.

I made my way inside and followed

the obnoxious,
high-pitched whine

of Dean Okra's voice, which
was emanating deep from within.

You've been encouraging
this thing all along.

You never did have
the guts to nurture

a true race of subservients.

This Victoria's tainted
and worthless to me now.

Terminate her before she
gives the other ideas.

You can't do this.

It's murder.

Murder?

It's only a subhumanoid.

Holy cow, what's this?

Looks like Sally Land's mother.

It was like
something out of a science

fiction movie, but it was real.

It was unbelievable.

Our little romantic
interlude had brought

me face to face with the
horrifying byproducts

of a corporation gone mad.

The whole thing made me
want to projectile vomit.

This will completely
fuck up my plans

for the Nukamama Corporation.

Sorry, Professor.

Destroy it.

Roger, help me!

Don't you see?

She's fond of him.

Oh, that's just great.

Now we have a subhumanoid
love story taken away.

Stop saying it.

My subhumanoids are
living, feeling beings.

They're not things.

I resign.

I don't want to have anything
to do with you or this murder.

Let the blood be on your hands.

Thank you.

I accept your resignation.

Good.

I will leave at once.

Oh, no you don't.

You can resign, but
you cannot leave.

Take them both away.

Hey!

What are you doing
there, Stinky?

Ah!

Oh!

Up yours, buddy.

Diane, I'm on to
something big, real big.

I'm in the basement
of the power facility,

and it looks like
the love of my life

and Professor Holt
are in grave danger.

They're being held
captive by Yoke

and those delinquent Squirrels.

Hey.

Hey, wait a minute.

Something's wrong.

Right now, I'm looking at
another beautiful student

being held against her
will by three stooges.

Uh, Gesundheit.

Wow.

It's even bigger than I
imagined, much bigger.

I've seen enough to
know this is more

than I can handle on my own.

I've got to get out of here
and get reinforcements.

But first, I should
take one last look.

Hi, girls.

Beautiful day, isn't it?

Get lost.

Yes, indeed.

Beautiful day to get rid
of some radioactive waste.

Wow.

What was that?

Gee, check it out.

What's that green stuff, man?

Mm.

Wow.

Mm, mm.

Hey, this stuff is great.

Is Jones in?

You gotta type this
right away, Diane.

The only way for us to save
Victoria and Professor Holt

is to use the power of the
press to rally the students

against Dean Okra
and the Squirrels,

and all this weird shit
that's been going down.

Stop the presses.

Diane is typing
the most important

article I've ever written.

Oh really, Roger?

Here you are, Roger.

All finished.

Thanks.

Thank you.

These are all
unqualified, unbelievable,

unadulterated rumors.

Dean Okra is holding Professor
Holt and another woman hostage

in the basement of
the nuclear plant?

Mm-hm.

Secret rooms full of
ungodly mutated creatures?

Mm-hm.

A girlfriend with a second
mouth on her stomach?

Yeah.

Roger, this is fabulous,
absolutely fabulous.

This is just the
kind of highbrow pulp

I've been talking about.

You don't believe any of it?

Of course not.

But I'm gonna print
it on the front page.

Congratulations.

Thanks.

That
stuff tasted weird.

What's going on?

I'm dizzy.

Can I clean your
office, Ms. Jones?

Sure.

Cleaning and dusting.

And der...

Are you all right?

Wow.

Never expected
Professor Jones to fall

for my writing like this.

Help me.

Help me.

Help me.

Help me, I say.

Help me.

Roger!

No, wait, wait.

Roger!

Roger.

Stop, Roger.

Hey, watch it, pretty boy.

Come back, Roger.

Help me.

Roger.

Come back, Roger.

You seen a ghost, chucklehead?

What a butthole he is.

I think he's more
like a shithead.

Yeah.

Hello.

Oh yeah.

Punch him.

Hm, nice ass.

Hope you're all right.

Gee, thanks.

No problem.

Oh boy.

Have I got a headache.

Oh.

Move
your ass, Roger.

Close the door.

Got a cold beer?

Who are you?

What are you?

I am Murray, your janitor.

Murray?

I just saw you a while ago
cleaning the newspaper office.

The time has come
for us subhumanoids.

Subhumanoid.

Yes, birthed
and programmed by your Dean

Okra and Professor Holt.

What about Victoria?

She is one of us.

Damn it.

She would melt down, like I.
Get off your brainwashed ass,

Roger, and get to
the nuclear plant

right away to see
if she can be saved.

How can I save her?

What's to keep her from
turning into a hideously

spherical glob like you?

If you want any help,
watch the insults, Roger.

Professor Holt found
an antidote which

will save Victoria's melon-heavy
breasts from melting down.

You and me?

Against Okra's security guards?

We'll need help.

Rally your friends.

Well, rally anyone you can find.

And then raid the power plant.

Holt and Victoria are
being held inside.

Damn it, you're right.

With you along, I've got
the balls to stand up

against Okra and the Squirrels.

Let's get ready.

Meltdown alert.

Come to sector C.
Melon-heavy meltdown.

Clear the way.

Meltdown squad's here.

I can handle you.

You look like my mother-in-law.

What the?

Take that.

That's for the professionals.

While the little greenie

weeny and I rallied the
troops, the Squirrels partied.

The Squirrels never dreamed
that little people could

be so outraged at
corporate greed,

and take things into
their own little hands.

They call
the nuclear power

plant a student-run reactor,
but are we really running it?

What if I told you that
Dean Okra was really

using the reactor as a cover?

A front?

While he surreptitiously
manufacturers

an artificial race of
subhumanoid creatures

that will eventually give him
and the Nukamama Corporation

the ultimate power
to control our lives?

Yeah, tell us
something we don't know.

All right.

Did you know that the vast
majority of these subhumanoids

are unstable, and are
capable of violently

melting down at any moment?

Leaving this?

Hello.

It's true.

Everything Roger says is true.

Look!

Even my makeup's running.

Oh, look at me.

I must look so horrible.

If you're with me, come on.

Gather weapons.

We're storming the reactor.

Keep still, kid, you wet bot.

Jesus, kid.

I need windshield wipers.

Well, the
union promised us overtime.

Show me how to stop it.

You must tell me how to stop it.

Never.

Can't you see your
dreams are fading away?

My dreams are crumbling.

Years and years of painstaking
research is melting away.

Our precious
nuclear knuckleheads

are melting away like so many
popsicles on the pavement.

That's right, Dean.

Oh!

Status normal.

Status normal.

Roger said to pick up
the nearest chainsaw

and knock out the
nuclear reactor's

central control panel.

Hey, take it easy.

We need it for the next film.

Danger.

Danger.

Look at the size of those eyes.

Ew, look at the
size of its teeth.

Look at the size of those nuts.

We're gonna die anyway,
so let's keep on screwing.

Ay yi yi yi yi yi yi yi oh!

No!

Whoa!

Oh!

No!

No, don't eat me.

Don't eat me.

Victoria, my love.

I finally found you.

I'm here to save you.

Meltdown.

Meltdown.

What now?

Switch to natural gas.

I don't want to die.

NUN: We've lost another
pair of melon-heavy eyes.

Kiss your ass goodbye.

Kiss your ass goodbye.

I ran for
my life like everyone else,

except that I had to carry 140
pounds of subhumanoid beef.

As I
held my beloved in my arms,

I could feel Victoria
starting to meltdown.

I could also feel some pretty
painful cramps in my biceps.

Soon, instead of lugging around
a beautiful, blond subhumanoid,

all I would have
in my arms would

be a disgusting green ball
of goo with a hideous grin.

Hey, make way, make way.

We're gonna die.

Let me out of here.

Let me out of here.

Oh, after you, ma'am.

After you, ma'am.

Melon-heavy breasts first.

Thank you.

Make way, make way.

Let me out and open this door.

Oh, blimey.

What's going on here?

Oh!

Ew!

Cheerio.

Gotta go now.

Bye.

Now, here I am.

Oh God.

Oh, what's happening?

Oh no!

Don't!

Roller blades.

Oh, blimey.

Roller blades, get away.

It seemed
like the end of the world,

or at least the
end of this movie.

No one was safe.

Not even the chairman of
the Tromaville Savings

and Loan, who had
donned a ski mask

in order to complete
the pillaging

of the S and L's funds.

Diane.

Huh?
Oh.

Professor, look out.

No, please.

Put me down.

Help.

Hold your fire, hold your fire.

Put me down.

Not your mommy.

Don't you wink at me.

I'm not your mother.

Put me down.

Help.

Well, Diane.

If you're still around to get
this tape, that's my story.

My sweet Victoria, you
were filled with such love.

And green stuff.

Uh-oh.

Looks like this is it.

Professor Holt. Professor
Holt. Professor Holt. It's me,

Roger Smith.

Victoria's about to meltdown.

Is there anything I can do?

One teaspoon a day for
the next three weeks,

and she should
develop an immunity

to the meltdown syndrome.

Really?

Thanks.

Ugh.

Ugh.

You're gonna die, you
mutated, radiated squirrel.

You're gonna die, squirrel.

You're nothing but a
mutated, radiated rodent.

He gave us the finger.

He gave us the finger.

He's a crass squirrel.

Victoria?

I thought I'd lost you.

Roger?

Sh.

It's all over Professor
Holt gave me the antidote.

As Victoria gained strength

from Professor
Holt's antidote, I

too felt stronger and stronger.

Now there was real hope.

Humans and
subhumanoids could live

together, and move
forward together

to build a better Tromaville.

It was up to us, the
youth of America,

to strive together to
create a more perfect union,

with liberty and
charge cards for all.

Unfortunately, only
Victoria had the antidote.

Hm.

I wuv you.

was just that little matter
of the huge, rabid, drooling,

flatulence-ridden, urinating,
and projectile-vomiting,

mutant, humongous squirrel.

This is Tromaville one to base,

Tromaville one to base.
Come in, please.

Roger, Tromaville one.

This is base.
What's your 20?

We have sign of the squirrel,

and are approaching
with a decoy.

Repeat, we are moving
the decoy into position.

10-4, one, Tromaville one.

We copy.

Proceed with caution.

We do not want the
squirrel to get

the decoy until the
reactor's have been cleared.

Roger, base.

He sees the decoy.

Repeat, the squirrel
sees the decoy.

He's coming this way.
Careful now.

We only get one chance.

Here he comes.

He's going for the decoy.

He's, he's going
for the giant acorn.

He's right on our tail.

Jeez, is he a big mother.

OK.

You're doing great.

Now lead the squirrel
away from the reactors.

Roger.

We're leading him
away from the reactors

and toward South Tromaville.

Not
South Tromaville.

Lead him to North Tromaville.

I live in South Tromaville.

The hell with that.

I live in North Tromaville.

I tell you what.

I'll lead the squirrel
to East Tromaville.

That's where my
mother-in-law lives.

Perfect.

My mother-in-law lives
in East Tromaville too.

Is it gonna work?

Is the squirrel
gonna follow you?

Base to Tromaville one.

Come in please.

Base to Tromaville one, come in.

Is the squirrel
gonna take the decoy?

Is the squirrel gonna
move to East Tromaville?

Come in, please.

This is Tromaville one.

How the hell should I know?

You'll have to wait and find
out in the Class of Nuke

'Em High, Part Four.

We're only supposed to
lead the squirrel offscreen

in this movie.

Class of Nuke 'Em High,
Part Four?

You must mean Class of
Nuke 'Em High, Part Three.

This movie is only the Class
of Nuke 'Em High, Part Two.

What?

Part Two?

Are you sure?

I'd swear my contract says Class
of Nuke 'Em High, Part Three.

Contract?

You have a contract?

How come I don't
have a contract?

All the actors have contracts.

Actors?

What actors?

I'm a licensed air
traffic controller.

Yeah right.

And I suppose that's
a real squirrel

about to grab my tail rotor...

Tromaville one.
Tromaville one.

Come in, please.
Come in, please.

Tromaville one, do you read me?