Original subtitles

Honey, I'm home.

50 dinosaurs left dead in bite-size pieces.

70-year-old Cora Dubois feigns innocence.

We'll pursue her relentlessly until she breaks down in tears

and confesses to these horrible acts

of unspeakable violence.

- Yeah, yeah! - It all happens next on...

Just Admit It And We'll Go Away.

Ooh, violence.

Hey, where'd the violence go?

You're too young. Watch cartoons.

Give me violence! I want violence!

Gotta have violence!

It's either cartoons,

or we talk about the problems I'm having with my feet.

Ooh, cartoons.

Ahh...

Violence.

Mom, my Creative Writing teacher's making us write a poem

about our innermost feelings,

but I don't think that's really important, so I wrote this:

"My bracelet It's crummy and old."

I wish it were silver Or, better yet, gold

Then I could sell it And buy a big car

And a house and a boat And move far...

away...

- from here." - That's lovely, dear.

- What do you think, Daddy? - Ask your mother.

Oh, boy.

Morning, everybody.

Hey! There's my special guy.

- Uh... - How you doing, kid?

You look strong, you look good. How do you feel?

- I feel, uh... hungry. - Fran, the boy's hungry.

I made your favorite breakfast.

Favorite breakfast.

You know, there's this thing called Middle Child Syndrome.

Charlene, today is a very special day for your brother.

Yeah. Besides, they just love me more.

You!

Hey, hey!

Today Robbie's going to meet the Job Wizard

and find out what career he's gonna have for the rest of his life.

So, Dad, is there anything I need to know?

Well, Son, it's a supernatural experience,

shrouded in an almost impenetrable cloud of mystery.

But here are the bare bones.

Take the C bus to the Mystical Kingdom of the Unknown,

then you gotta get on a tram, they run every half-hour.

Then get off at the stop marked "Destiny."

Wow. So that's where the guy is.

Guy?

Guy? This is no guy.

This is the all-knowing, all-seeing,

all-powerful Job Wizard.

He touches your head, looks into your eyes,

and decides exactly what job you'll have

for your entire life.

Let me see, Rob.

Oh, look. Spokesmodel.

It's obvious. He'll take one look at me and say two words:

rock legend.

You used to say you wanted to be a doctor.

No. That's what you used to say.

Hey, come on, guys. The whole beauty of our system

is you don't have to worry about what you'll be.

The Wizard decides for you.

Uh, excuse me. I'm here to see the Wizard.

- Behind the line. - It's about my career.

Behind the line!

Well, when do I see the Wizard?

I'm the Wizard. Here, take a look at this.

Does this look like tuna to you?

- You're the Wizard? - Yeah. I'm the Wizard.

Name?

I thought this was supposed to be mystical

and magical and shrouded.

OK, bud.

Woo, woo, woo.

Give me your name.

- Better? - That's it?

Well, there used to be smoke and blinding lights,

this voice like thunder,

and that was a wall of flame,

but they cut the budget and cut the budget

and cut and cut and cut, and this is what you get.

Name?

Uh, Robert Mark Sinclair.

Uh...

Ah!

Here we are. Sinclair.

Age 15, good grades, always challenging tradition,

mother a housewife, father a tree-pusher.

So, for you...

Rock legend.

- Tree-pusher. - No!

You'd rather be a housewife?

You're supposed to look in my eyes and make me what I was meant to be.

Like... anything but a tree-pusher.

That's not what I wanted.

This isn't what I wanted,

but we're both just gonna to have to eat it.

Did you eat a boulder?

Hungry. Feed me.

We can't eat until Robbie gets home.

- Look, Robbie's home! - Where?

Ohh! No.

- Got to love me. - I'm trying.

You guys never throw parties for me.

Charlene, you know we love you every bit as much as Robbie.

He's here.

Huh? Whoa! Robbie!

Hey. There's my boy!

We can eat now! We can eat now!

- That's right. - Robbie.

Hi, everybody. I'll be in my room.

What's the matter, Rob? Were they out of rock legends?

Yeah.

Oh, Rob.

Oh, look at this, everybody.

Oh, my gosh, they've killed him.

- Ohh, dear. - What? Huh? What?

Give.

Yes! This is great! This is fantastic!

Son, you've got yourself a great job.

I'll be proud to have you working by my side.

Ugh. I feel sick.

Of course you do. It's natural to be nervous.

You're poised on the brink of a great adventure.

You're gonna be a tree-pusher.

Gosh. I wish I was in your shoes.

You are, Dad.

Ohh! Yay for me.

Hey! Sinclair and Sons, unskilled laborers.

- The future looks bright. - Not to me.

Hey, if you don't believe me, ask your mom. Franny.

Oh! Uh... Well, uh, Robbie,

it may not be the most glamorous job in the world,

it, um, may not be a job you brag about to strangers

or even admit to in public, but it's a nice job,

and, um, I'm sure it will be very, uh...

very... nice.

Yeah!

Well, that certainly sounds appealing. Where do I sign up?

Ha, ha, ha. Well, you can't.

They don't hire bitter, shriveled-up old ladies.

Right. They usually only take big fat slobs.

She'll be dead soon, Son.

Tomorrow you'll come to work with your dad,

and I'll show you first-hand how great your life is gonna be.

Another selling point.

And, you know, Son,

we tree-pushers do a lot of good for society.

Oh, yeah? Like what?

Well, for instance, the rainforest is expanding.

If we weren't here to push it back,

it would take over the Earth,

and everyone would get giddy from all that extra oxygen.

Uh, but...

what really makes the job special is your co-workers.

These guys are great.

And funny? Don't even ask.

Sometimes we get to giggling so hard,

we forget to go home.

Morning, guys.

Oh, I hate this stinking job!

Just once I wish I'd wake up dead.

See? Kidding already. Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho.

Guys, you know my son Robbie.

We just found out he's gonna be a tree-pusher like us.

- My condolences, kid. - What a waste of a life.

Hey.

Hey, guys, come on.

This is the kid's first exposure to tree-pushing.

Let's tell him about the good things.

Yeah, please.

All right, um... Uh...

Oh, boy.

Come on.

My wife's not here.

Yes! Yes!

And you get to work with your hands.

What?

Come on, guys.

You're forgetting about the sheer thrill of the job.

Hey, Robbie, come with me.

Look. A tree.

Nature's wonder.

Tall, majestic, alive for a thousand years.

Wow. Yeah.

Now it's dead.

There's something you can be proud of.

Dad, has it ever occurred to you

that you guys are just bulldozers with hats?

Firstly, it's a helmet,

and, second, a bulldozer's just a dumb machine

doing the same stupid job over and over

with someone else at its driver's seat

telling it what to do.

Sinclair, you big dope, get in here!

Or I'm wrong.

Now!

Ohh! Excuse me, Son.

Sinclair, I just looked out my window

and saw something that made me very unhappy.

Do you know what that was?

Uh, others enjoying themselves?

No. I saw you push down a tree without getting its roots!

- Do you know what that means? - Um... I get cake?

No, you thundering boob!

It means the tree's going to grow back!

And if we wanted them to grow back,

we wouldn't push them down in the first place, would we?

- No, sir. - What?

- No, sir! - That's right.

And to help you learn that,

you're gonna come in here on weekends

and do nothing but pull up roots until you get it right.

But root-pulling is a job for rank beginners.

What could be more humiliating?

Wearing this hat while you do it.

- Well, I did ask. - Uh-huh.

Uh, in its own way, Son, even that was rewarding.

He's making you wear a hat?

Oh, and what a hat!

Notice the lacework and the delicate silk flowers.

And, oh, look at the little ladybug.

Ha, ha, ha...

Son, I hope this doesn't diminish the respect you have for me.

No, no chance, Dad.

Ohh, my career is a sham!

My life has no meaning

and I've got nothing that goes with this hat!

Why are you stuck in a boring, dead-end job?

I don't know.

Why does your boss yell at you?

Can't figure it out.

Why is your life such a complete mess?

Stop picking on me.

Why ask why?

Drink alcohol.

Nobody likes a thinker.

You may not be able to change your life,

but you can change the way you look at it.

Alcohol. The more you drink, the less you think.

I brought you some lunch, dear.

Oh, swell. Did you bring any alcohol?

The TV said I should be drinking more.

Alcohol is not the answer. It only makes things worse.

You just need to cheer up.

And I made you your favorite dish: food.

Ohh, I can't eat.

I can't go to work. There's no point.

My life's a sham.

Earl Snead Sinclair!

Sometimes you make me so mad!

OK, OK, I'll eat!

But, uh, do you have a dress to go with this hat?

You have a wonderful life and a wonderful family,

but if you can't see that for yourself,

you can just stay in bed forever!

This can't be all my life has come down to.

I wanted to be something better once.

I hope he picks me.

God, I need this job.

I'd give anything to work with a choreographer of his stature.

He's so massive, yet so graceful.

You're gonna sweat, and you're gonna hurt,

but you're gonna thank me

because I'm gonna make you dancers!

Now, 5, 6, 7, 8.

Yes! That's it. Come on, energy.

That's it. Point those toes.

Straight line, straight line.

Give me pizzazz. Give me smiles.

Kick, and turn, turn, turn, and, yeah!

Oh, those talented tootsies.

Stay together, stay together. Energy.

Come on, kids. Sell it to the cheap seats.

You got it. Take us on home.

Oh, sparkle. You dazzling gypsies...

Yes! Ha ha. OK.

Hey! That was my home!

Oh, sorry about that, little guy.

Oh, it's hard to get mad at someone with such a horrible job.

♪ Hate my job...

Oh, kid, what the heck are you doing?

Oh, well, it was kinda boring just pushing down trees,

so I was trying to figure out a kind of pulley system

that would do twice the work and...

Whoa, kid. Let me explain one of the fundamentals of work.

- Don't do so much of it. - What?

How many trees you knock down so far?

- Seven or eight. - Oh! Ouch!

No. Listen, junior, you gotta pace yourself.

You're making the rest of us look bad.

- Pace myself? - Yeah, you know, get a rhythm.

Knock down a tree, have a donut,

talk to your friends, look for a new tree;

boom, lunchtime.

So what's the rush? The trees aren't going anywhere,

- and you're not going anywhere. - Well, yeah...

Hey, guys. Want a donut?

Uh, no, thanks, Mr. Turtlepuss.

Kid, take one now.

Uh, OK.

Don't anybody move.

Oh! Run!

Hide, hide, hide, hide.

Why aren't you knocking down trees?

Well, I was... uh...

- What's that in your hand? - Oh, these? Donuts.

Would you like one?

Nobody eats donuts during working hours

while I'm in charge!

Oh, Mr. Richfield, don't you think you're overreacting?

This is just a misunderstanding.

There's no reason for this tension

between you and your employees.

If you were just a little more willing to listen

and a little less quick to yell,

this would be a much better place to work.

Hmm. Interesting theory.

Step inside and let's discuss it,

and, uh, bring your bright ideas with you.

See? All it takes is communication.

- Ahh. - Nope.

Hey, guys, I thought we weren't gonna play hide-and-seek until after lunch.

- Shh! - Nobody tells me anything.

No, Roy, it's Earl's kid.

He's in there with Richfield.

What? Richfield will eat him alive! We got to do something.

Well, find your own tree. This one's mine.

Aw, gee.

Earl. Earl!

♪ One ♪

- ♪ Singular sens... ♪ - Earl, wake up.

- What? What? - Roy just called from work.

- Robbie's in trouble. - Robbie? What's wrong?

- He wouldn't tell me. - He wouldn't tell you!

Oh, I know Roy. He's just protecting you.

If Robbie wasn't in a horrible accident,

then he was probably eaten by predators.

Huh?

Oh, and, uh, try not to worry, honey. I'm sure it's nothing.

Wha...

I'm coming, Son!

Hang on, Robbie! Daddy's coming!

Hey! Where are you going?

Oh, Roy, where's Robbie?

I've got to save my son no matter what the danger.

Volcanoes, floods, earthquakes.

My own personal safety is secondary. Where is he, Roy?

In the trailer with Richfield.

On the other hand, he's 15 years old. He's lived long enough.

You're not just gonna stand there, are you?

Nnnn... No, I'm going.

Just come in in about 20 minutes.

- And bring a mop. - Huh?

Nobody tells me how to run things around here,

especially not the idiot son of one of my idiot employees!

If I want to ask advice about anything, I'll ask myself!

Mr. Richfield, while you're taking a breath,

- if I could say something. - Go ahead.

It's all right yelling at me, sir,

but something about you yelling at my children seems wrong.

- That's what I like about it! - He's such a sensitive kid.

He's not used to such a loud job.

Well, he better get used to it.

He's gonna be a tree-pusher, isn't he?

- Maybe not. - Huh?

I know that taking the job you're given

is a time-honored tradition, but maybe...

and it kills me to say this...

maybe that tradition is... wrong.

What?

I don't think my son is right for this job,

so if you don't mind, I'd like to take what's left of him

and find him a better job.

All right, go ahead. Fine.

Yelling at the kid

wasn't nearly as much fun as I thought it would be, anyway.

Look at this.

Nothing.

He's a little overwhelmed, captain.

I guess you're right. Boo!

Aah!

Welcome back, Sinclair.

Thank you, sir, always a pleasure. Go. Go, Robbie.

- Go, go, go. - OK.

Thank you, Your Bossness.

Go before he eats us.

Someone has to scrape the gum off the chairs.

From now on, that's gonna be you.

Number 42!

All right, you grand, all-knowing, phony Job Wizard,

we're not going to take you controlling our lives anymore.

Take a number, wait your turn.

- Yes, sir. - Right. Yeah.

- Number 98! - All right, you grand,

all-knowing, phony Job Wizard, you...

You're tired of me controlling your life.

Yeah, that's right. And we're not leaving

until you give my son a better job.

But I already gave him a job.

But you gave him the wrong one.

He's no good at tree-pushing. He's got too much self-esteem.

- He hates the job. - It's good enough for you.

Yeah, it's good enough for me,

but I want something better for my son,

I want him to have the job he wants.

You think I wanted this job? I always wanted to be a dancer.

Ooh.

But I'm stuck here,

and he's gonna push trees.

Well, you gave it a shot.

No, it's wrong.

What would be so bad if everybody got to pick their own job?

Follow their own dreams, control their own destinies.

- Yeah. - What would happen

if the whole world got to do exactly what they wanted to do?

There'd be anarchy.

What would happen if I slipped you 50 bucks?

Bang. No anarchy.

Excellent, Dad.

Here's your blank job certificate.

Pick whatever you like.

Huh? Yeah.

See, Son? The system works.

Ahh, thanks, Dad.

So, what job are you gonna pick?

Mmm, I don't know.

I might take a couple of years to think about it.

See ya.

Do you really want to be a dancer?

5, 6, 7, 8.

- Yes! - Step, roll, step.

You got it.

Come on.

Turn, kick, step. Make 'em love you.

- Mother! - Hop, hop, hop.

Yeah.

- Back, forward, back. - Yessir, yeah.

Sell it.

Ha-ha-ha. Hey!

Mom, he's stretching out my leg warmers.

Oh, let him have his fun, dear. Aww.

Take it on home, Wizzie.

- All right. - Watch that tail.

Yeah!

Oh, Earl.

Very nice.

Yeah!

♪ Always leave them wanting more ♪