Original subtitles

(Kirby) Every year, a mad man is let loose in our town for 24 hours.

No sympathy, no mercy.

(growling)

(chanting) ♪ Cause F, H, U is better than you ♪

♪ We came, we saw, we conquered ♪

(Kirby) You see, when the Forest Hills University lumberjacks

play their bitter rivals, the University of Forest Hills Fire Ants...

(shouting)

It turns my dad into a monster.

You like that? You like that?

(screaming)

- Lock your doors on game day, folks. -(grunting)

(theme song playing)

♪ Hey ♪

♪ Hey ♪

♪ Hey ♪

♪ Hey ♪

(chattering)

Game day is the worst.

Why do people like football so much?

It's just a bunch of over-sized goons

trying to give each other head injuries.

I'm pretty sure we'd all be better off without it.

Speak for yourself!

-(clucking) -Oh, yeah!

What?

Part of the reason you hate football

might be because you're embarrassed about your noodle arm.

It's nothing to be ashamed of.

Some of my best friends are noodle arms. Like you.

I have no idea what you guys are talking about.

And stop saying noodle arm. It's offensive.

Besides, I can throw just fine.

You know, that's my fault...

For forgetting your limitations.

This is fun!

Well, even though you refuse to acknowledge the reality

of your noodle arm, I agree with you about game day.

It's just too competitive.

Think about how many points those teams could score

if they just worked together.

A lot of points.

Besides, the game just distracts people from what's really important...

Tailgating.

Which is why Eli and I are gonna have a nice, competition-free day

of grilling like the grillionaires we are.

Filthy rich with flavor!

(both hissing)

I wish I could spend the day grilling like a grillionaire.

Instead, I have to watch the game

with the most psychotic lumberjack fan in all of Forest Hills.

You make me sick.

I wanna rip off that hat, go to the bathroom on it,

burn it, then feed the ashes to one of your other fans

and hope that they choke on it.

Go lumberjacks!

I should haul your lumberjack loving butt to the slammer.

You know what happens to FHU Lumberjack fans in jail?

They fit right in, because the entire jail is filled with 'em.

Go Fire Ants!

Ah, game day, gotta love it.

What brings you by the house, Sergeant Pounder?

-Your daughter's babysitting for me. -Huh! She is?

Also, all lullabies must be sung two octaves lower than possible.

When addressing him in Spanish, use the formal "usted,"

because he is not your friend.

You work for him. Got it?

If anything happens to Pickles, I will end you...

As professional babysitters.

Go Ants.

I can't believe you agreed to do this.

We should probably back out now before it's too late.

Actually, there is no backing out.

'Cause I sort of pre-spent the babysitting money.

On fake eyebrows.

Thicker is trending and my real ones need help.

You have no idea how competitive the eyebrow game is these days.

It's a harsh mistress, Belinda.

A harsh, thick-eyebrowed mistress.

Please tell me you did not pre-spend our babysitting money

on a pair of eyebrows.

I didn't. I pre-spent it on a dozen pair of fake eyebrows.

Eyebrows made from 100% real kitten hair. So...

Don't worry, as soon as I find the perfect pair, I'll send the rest back.

And I'll totally cut you in on the cash, 'cause we're a team.

(baby wailing)

Oh! Would you mind taking care of that?

I am up to here... In eyebrows.

Question, Kirby...

Do you have any respect for your father whatsoever?

What?

Your socks, Kirby. They're red.

As in "Fire Ant" red.

Dad, you know the clothes I wear

don't actually determine who wins the game, right?

(chuckles)

(sighs) Kirby, let me tell you a story about a waterboy named Buckets,

and a pair of pants

that were a part of the greatest play in lumberjack football history.

Great, I've actually never heard this one before.

(sighs)

Down six, ten seconds left.

I gave a cup of water to our star quarterback, Trace Ruttiger,

and he was so well hydrated that he threw a 95-yard touchdown pass.

Then he gave me the greatest gift one man can give another,

the ol' "atta boy" pat on the backside.

Can I ask what this has to do with anything?

There's a lot of positive energy in those pants, Kirby.

And because I still put them on before every game,

The lumberjacks have won almost half of them.

If anything ever happened to those pants, I'm not sure what I would do.

Something unforgivable, probably.

You're right. I was being ridiculous.

-I'll go change. -Great.

I've have an appointment with Leonard, my professional face paint guy.

Do you mind guarding the shrine while I'm gone?

Those Fire Ant fans have been trying to break my mojo for years.

I'm sure they have.

You know, we make a great team, my fellow grillionaire.

We agree on every tailgating detail, right down to the paper towels.

It's gonna be a great, competition-free day,

and I for one am feeling like a grillion bucks.

Guys, I'm here to service all your meaty needs.

What's your poison? I mean meat.

No poison here, as far as we all know.

-Hot dogs. -Hamburgers.

Burgers over hot dogs? That's insane.

Hot dogs are far superior and if you don't get that, you don't get me.

You're right, because I'm a die-hard burger man

and I'm never going to change.

Well, there can only be one official food of the grillionaires,

and hot dogs are the people's meat.

Ask around, Fish,

any red-blooded American with a mouth prefers hamburgers to hot dogs.

(scoffs) We'll just see about that.

-Hot dogs! -Burgers!

(grunts)

What's the point?

(lumberjack) What kind of attitude is that?

You can't just give up like that.

You're right.

Thanks, lumberjack.

The name's Terri, actually.

(Kirby) No!

Come on. Come on.

You are so dead.

I don't get it. What's so important about an old pair of pants?

-Hot dogs. -Yeah, can't you just get another pair?

Hamburgers.

You don't understand what my dad is like when it comes to lumberjack football.

Find a hotel and stay there for a few days until I calm down.

Tibbie dust on my bobble head.

If my dad finds out that I wrecked his pants, I'm dead.

We gotta fix this quick.

The game starts in two hours.

So just make a new handprint.

No, my dad will spot a forgery a mile away.

I'm telling you, the only way out of this

is if we find this Trace Ruttiger guy and get a new "atta boy."

-Atta boy? -You know,

the encouraging pat on the backside.

-Oh! -Ah!

You guys find anything yet?

Nothing. No one's seen or heard from this guy in years.

It's like he's a ghost.

Which is a shame, because it looks like he used to be

a pretty great quarterback.

A man like that probably knew how to enjoy a good hamburger.

-Tomato, fried onions--this guy gets it. -No, he does not.

Kirby is a bona fide dog catcher. Right, Kirb?

Wait a minute.

I think I recognize that guy.

Sorry, boys, but this is 24-hour quarterback camp.

If your parents aren't paying me to teach you to throw a ball,

then you are not my concern today.

But this is really important. I swear.

Tell you what...

You can have a moment of my time, if you can thread the needle...

Through that tire over there.

You're on.

Oh, yeah!

(clucking and groaning)

Oh, gosh. Oh! Oh!

This must be one of those freak injuries that happens

when you're forced to throw a football!

But you know, I'll probably be less likely to sue

if you answer all my questions.

Fine, QB Camp can't afford a seventh lawsuit.

Okay, Buckets. What do you wanna talk about?

I need to find one of your old teammates. Trace Ruttiger.

Listen up,

Trace is a man who doesn't want to be found,

and you boys need to respect that,

because Trace had heart, and heart is something you can't teach.

But don't tell Stavros that. He pre-paid for camp.

Love that heart, Stavros!

Wait a minute. I have an idea. Keep him busy.

You guys were right.

The blindfold really heightens my sense of taste.

This hot dog is not afraid to attack my taste buds from every angle.

-(coach) The rich flavor says... -(Kirby) Atta boy!

-(coach) … the future is unknown.

"Need to meet up for football stuff.

Hurry!" No. "Hustle!"

(Belinda) "Isotropic radiation has a luminosity, L,

equal to 4 pi R squared F."

Pounder's crazy if he thinks reading physics to a dumb baby

is gonna make it any smarter.

I'm in a bit of a bind myself.

I know the rivieras are hands down, the perfect springtime brow.

Can they be more?

I think they can.

Dawn, I really need to use the bathroom.

Can you please watch the baby until I get back?

60 seconds, that is all I need.

Yeah, yeah, get out of here.

Me and what's-his-baby will be fine.

So there's been a bit of a development.

(Belinda) What did you do?

I had to see what they looked like on someone else.

It's not my fault the only glue we have in this house is industrial strength.

You used industrial strength glue?

-You would've done the same thing! -No, I wouldn't have!

"To remove glue, immerse in boiling water or gasoline."

Both super safe, baby-friendly options.

"Or smother the surface generously with household butter."

Guess we gotta butter the baby!

I actually lost my taste buds a few years ago

in a raccoon-related incident. I don't like to talk about it.

-But if you must know-- -Just pick one.

Okay, fine. Hamburgers.

Boom! Mark one down for hamburgers.

Trace Ruttiger?

You're not coach.

This is a set-up.

This isn't about football stuff at all, is it?

And I hustled to get here.

Wait! We just want one atta boy!

Come on!

Come on!

Oh, man, it's almost game time.

We gotta get that atta boy, like now!

Yeah. About that--

Really?

Come on, we just want to talk to you!

(Trace) Not a chance! Now go away!

Oh, there's only 30 minutes 'til kickoff.

My dad's gonna kill me if I don't get him this atta boy.

Look, I know this sounds strange,

but you know my father.

Waterboy Buckets.

I must've given a million atta boys to a million fans...

Then one day a guy has a throwing star in his back pocket.

Why? He clearly wasn't a ninja.

It went right through my hand...

And after that I could never grip a football again.

I had it all.

One atta boy took it all away.

That's why I'll never give another atta boy as long as I live.

So what can I do for your dad?

He just wanted to send his regards.

Tell him I said hey.

Slaughter boy was the true heart of the FHU Lumberjacks.

Slaughter boy?

That's what we called him.

Slaughter boy, the waterboy.

That man had a passion for lumberjack football.

Somehow even his water tasted intense.

So, you don't get out much, do you?

Nope.

Game day is the worst.

Everywhere I look, just reminded of how I can't be the man I used to be.

I wish those doctors just agreed to attach my replica hand.

Replica hand?

A perfect copy of my throwing hand.

I wanted to know what it felt like to get an atta boy from my own perfect hand.

(voice) Atta boy!

(baby wailing)

Mash faster! We need to butter the baby and save my brows.

(cell phone ringing)

Oh, it's Pounder.

Sergeant Pounder, (exaggerating) hey!

(Pounder) First of all my time is precious,

so don't make words longer than they need to be.

Something came up and now I have to miss the game.

I'll be back in five minutes for Pickles, and spoiler alert, I'm in a terrible mood.

-(baby continues wailing) -Give it something to play with.

(Pounder) I hear Pickle tears. Make it three minutes.

He'll be here in three minutes.

Why did you give the baby an axe to play with?

That's all I had to work with, and hey, he stopped crying, didn't he?

Dawn, it's glued to his hand.

But, again, he did stop crying.

Yeah, this is bad.

So, you got any cool stuff from your old football days?

Yeah, but I keep all of that boxed away.

Well, it would mean a lot to us, so--

Anything for Slaughter boy Jr., I guess.

But get ready for the water works.

(Eli) What are you doing?

I'm not leaving here without an atta boy.

All right, give me the pants.

I don't have them. Eli?

I specifically asked you guys to grab the pants on the way out.

Wait, you said "pants"? I thought you said "snacks,"

'cause I got those.

-No, I said "pants"! -So you see why this is confusing, right?

-"Pants"... "Snacks"... -Why would I say grab "snacks"?

This is clearly all about "pants."

"Pants"... "Snacks"...

"Pants"... "Snacks"...

You know, I'm hearing it now.

So we can at least agree that this is Eli's fault.

Right? Because that is a classic hamburger man mistake.

Spoken like a man with a frankfurter for a brain.

(both arguing)

Guys...

I think it's time for hamburgers and hot dogs to work together.

Well, it got real in there.

But I found an old water cup that your Dad gave me.

Huh?

What the lumberjack?

Leonard, you are a true artiste.

Time to put on the pants.

Where are my pants?

What the lumberjack?

-(shouting) -Who moved my pants?

(sighs)

(chuckles nervously)

Did you just throw a greasy human hand at me?

(exclaiming)

What happened to my pants?

Dad, I'm sorry I messed up.

I tried everything to get you a new atta boy--

Including stealing my hand.

Uh--is that--

It's been a while, Slaughter boy.

Trace, I have no idea what's going on here

, but I am so sorry about my son apparently stealing your hand?

Don't worry about it.

I mean... Your son has inspired me to come out of hiding,

you know, live life again.

Okay, I'm still not quite sure what's going on here,

but does anybody care that my pants have been ruined?

I'm still out an atta boy here.

Think I can help you with that.

Atta boy, Buckets!

My memories don't do you justice, Trace.

Hey, there's a couple of minutes before the game starts.

-Who's up for some tailgating? -Yes.

Uh-huh!

Hey... Did you draw these?

Not bad for a noodle arm, huh?

I always wanted to be an artist.

I wasn't any good at it, so I just settled for being a big-time football star.

Don't you worry about that arm, kid.

If you can draw like this...

What you can't do doesn't matter.

Thanks, Trace.

Who knows? Maybe he won't even notice.

That baby's wearing the Rivieras. Good luck ignoring those brows.

(banging on door)

Had to leave the stadium before the game started.

Police emergency. There's an axe murderer loose

and all units have been called in for the search.

With a madman on the loose, I don't trust Pickles with anyone else.

Now, how's my special little guy?

(wailing)

This is bad.

-I'm sorry, we just-- -Stop. The less I know the better.

(sniffling) Don't worry, Pickles,

I won't let anyone take you from me...

No matter what you did.

Oh, that was a close one.

Tell me about it.

I almost glued psychopath eyebrows to my face.

Sorry about your pants, dad.

Well, I got a new atta boy, so no harm done.

And seeing how you got Trace here,

maybe you're the real good luck charm, Kirb.

Looks like you'll be spending game day with me for the rest of your life.

Help! Help!

(chuckles nervously)

No, he's gonna-- he's gonna hit his butt.

-I still-- -Oh!

Ah!

(both) Ketchup.

Fish wins again!

We need to butter the-- (stammers)

(exclaiming)

(baby wailing)

I don't know.

You should try the Hamburg-- Hamburger-dogs.

Swedish. I eat 'em all the time. I got a bunch down here if you want.

No, that's just dirt.