Original subtitles

- Boy, what a day. - Yeah, I'm beat.

- I wanna go home and die. - Yeah, good night, guys.

Hold it!

And where do you think you're going,

you walking mounds of refuse?

Home, sir. The whistle blew.

The whistle?! That wasn't the "time to go home" whistle,

you leaky bucket of animal droppings.

That was the "keep working or I'll fire your lazy butts" whistle.

You're all pulling overtime tonight.

Overtime, sir?

Well, not technically overtime

since we're not paying anything extra.

You might prefer to think of it as pro bono work.

Watch out!

Oh... Oh...

- Uh, excuse me, are you a tree? - Uh, no, it's me, pally-boy.

Oh, good. I can't see a thing.

I just pushed down Gus and sent him through the mulcher.

- Heads up! - Whoa.

It's madness!

- Absolute madness! - Hiya, Sid.

Hey, you know, Earl, I'm thinking...

A bunch of exhausted guys pushing down trees in the dark...

Maybe this company hasn't got our best interests at heart.

- Hey, bite your tongue, Roy. - Mmm.

This company loves us.

We are its children and it watches over us

like a caring, if somewhat abusive, parent.

Oh, I never thought of it that way.

Thanks for renewing my faith...

in monolithic corporations.

Hey!

Um, Earl...

Uh... Where'd you go?

I'm over here, Roy, under this tree.

Uh, under the tree?

Boy, that must hurt.

Now that you mention it...

Honey, I'm home.

Aaah!

- Ohh! - Ow!

- Ow! - Ooh!

Aah!

- Careful. - I'm fine!

Let me help you. Dad, come on.

I don't need any help.

Get my lunchbox, Fran. I'm late for work.

Earl, are you crazy? You are not going to work today.

You were nearly killed by a tree last night.

Oh, let's not be overly dramatic. It's almost nothing.

Hardly a scratch.

Your foot is broken in three places.

And if I don't turn up for work,

Mr. Richfield will break it in three mo... Ow!

Now, please get out of my way, Fran.

Earl Sneed Sinclair, who are you more afraid of?

Mr. Richfield or me?

- ♪ Hello - Uh, Mr. Richfield,

- this is Earl Sinclair. - Sinclair?!

You mean to tell me I had to extend my arm

and raise an object to my face to speak to you?!

I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sir.

Uh, I won't be able to come in today.

As you might recall, a tree fell on me last night,

powdering the bones in my foot.

Oh, I am so, so sorry.

Come on, come on.

Uh, Mr. Richfield... Uh...

I may need a few weeks off to heal, sir.

Why, of course, Sinclair.

Take as much time as you need.

- You mean... I'm excused? - No... I mean you're fired!

What use do I have for a whiny, one-footed tree pusher?

Now come on in and clean out your desk.

I don't have a desk.

Well, come on in and clean out mine.

And you can scrub my toilet while you're at it.

You're fired!

Fired! Fired!

Fired!

Oh. Uh... That actually went pretty well.

It's not right. He shouldn't be allowed to treat you like that.

I'm with Mom. When someone gets injured at work,

they shouldn't lose their job.

The company should have a program providing for the worker

until he or she is ready to go back to work.

Oh, sure. While they're at it,

they can hand out beads and hold a love-in.

It's time you learned, Mr. Beatnik,

that the world is a brutal place.

No employer's gonna pay me if I don't go to work.

How are you supposed to survive?

That's not their concern.

This is gonna be expensive, Earl.

Months out of work and doctor bills coming in.

Right now we need at least 800 dollars.

Where will we come up with that?

We should demand that they pay.

We should take Wesayso to court.

What?! Ow! Oh...

- Sue the company?! - Come on, Dad.

Just enough to cover your expenses.

- No way! - What are you afraid of?

Mr. Richfield's already fired you. What more could he do?

You show a startling lack of imagination.

We are not going to court,

- and that is final. - OK. Fine.

- Good. - But...

Since you're gonna be home from work tomorrow anyway...

Uh, how about if we go to the movies?

- Aah! Earl. - The movies?

- Yeah. - Mmm-hmm.

Yeah, sure. I'm up for that.

But let's have no more talk about going to court.

Yep, nothing like a weekday matinee

to take your mind off your problems.

Uh, yeah. Yeah, yeah.

Thanks, Dad, for taking us to the movies.

All rise for the case of Earl Sinclair versus Wesayso.

A courtroom! Hey, you tricked me.

- And I spilled my drink. - Order in the court.

You there, take your seat.

Your Honor, I object on the grounds

that you were supposed to be a movie.

Who are you?

- Who filed this case, anyway? - I did, Your Honor.

Uh, Robert Sinclair,

filing on behalf of my father, the injured party.

I'm perfectly all right... Ow!

Uh, this is a personal injury suit

against the Wesayso Company for 800 dollars.

Uh, a tree fell on him at work.

It was all my own fault.

I wanted them to drop it on me.

I asked them to. I begged them.

I see. And who here is speaking for the Wesayso Company?

I believe, Your Honor, that would be me.

- Earl? Honey? - Uh...

I'd like to take this opportunity

to call my first witness.

So I told Mr. Richfield that Earl was under a tree,

and we needed some guys to help lift it off him.

Hmm. And how did he respond?

He said we should wait another hour

and rescue him on our break.

Wasn't he even the least bit concerned?

Well, he did ask about the condition of the tree.

- Uh-huh. - Why you little...

- The jury's watching. - I know!

Hi.

- No further questions. - Hmm.

Now, Mr. Hess, did you actually see this alleged tree

fall on Mr. Sinclair?

Well, yeah... No... It was very dark.

So how do you know this is how he broke his foot?

Maybe he injured it on the ski slopes

while wintering at some fabulous resort.

Oh, I don't think so.

Earl wouldn't go wintering without telling me.

- We're pals. - Oh, you're pals, huh?

Tell me, Roy, are you close enough pals

that you might tell a lie to help your friend?

Sure.

Close enough pals that you'd conspire with him

in constructing an elaborate scam to discredit his boss

and defraud the Wesayso Corporation?

- Uh, uh... Um, um... - Let's face it, Mr. Hess.

You're a liar! You wouldn't recognize the truth

if it landed on you like a big tree. Would you? Huh?!

Would you Mr. Hess?

If, indeed, that is your real name!

Oh, my stomach hurts.

Mr. Judge, could I be excused now?

Yes. Yes, step down.

I tried to dissuade him from going out that night.

"Earl", I said, "Go home and rest."

- Hmm. - He's like a son to me, really.

And how did he respond to your overtures of kindness?

Oh, he was belligerent. I couldn't stop him.

Of course, I've counseled him many times about his drinking.

I see.

Well, it's clear, sir, you did all you could.

Your witness.

Mr. Richfield...

Hmm?

Do you actually expect anyone here to believe

- you're a cuddly... - No further questions!

Uh... Uh, yeah.

OK. Uh, I think that's enough for now.

Hmm.

I don't know what all the fuss is about.

My foot feels better than ever.

Oh, sure, it bends in a couple of extra places, but, uh...

I see that as a bonus.

Does this alleged injury prevent you from doing

the normal things you otherwise like to do?

Oh, only a few minor things: Golf, bowling...

- taking my kid for a walk. - That's right.

- What? Who's that? - Over here.

Daddy was supposed to take me for a walk.

Then he said, "No." His foot hurt.

- Now... I'm sad. - Aww...

Hmm?

Uh, um, I... I've heard enough. Uh, no further questions.

Uh, if I may, Your Honor, I'd like to call my final witness.

And you like to go to the park?

Oh, yeah!

It's my bestest, funnest, most favoritest thing.

- Aww... - Huh?

But, now, Daddy can't take me.

He has a bad boo-boo.

I want Daddy to be all better...

- Aww. - I love my Daddy.

Your Honor, I rest my case.

Mr. Foreman, has the jury reached its verdict?

We have, Your Honor.

Hmm.

We find in favor of the plaintiff, Earl Sinclair.

Hey, all right.

Wha...?!

I bet they give us the whole 800 dollars.

And at what amount do you fix the penalty?

Well, we think it's wrong

when big companies push little guys around.

Especially little guys with sweet,

adorable kids like that one.

So this time, we little guys are pushing back.

Wesayso has to pay Earl Sinclair...

- Eight hundred dollars. - 800 million dollars.

What?!

800 million dollars?

Plus 23 dollars in court costs.

Wha...? Very well...

Congratulations, Mr. Sinclair. Court is adjourned.

Ahh...

This is a DNN news update.

Earl Sinclair of Lower Pangaea

became our nation's newest super millionaire this week

as a result of a huge jury award

in his landmark suit against Wesayso.

The jury awarded Mr. Sinclair 800 million dollars,

just because he's an average guy going up against a big, faceless corporation.

As one juror expressed it,

"I hope somebody does the same thing for me someday."

I don't know.

Something about this money thing really bothers me.

Are you kidding, Mom?

We brought an evil, uncaring corporation to its knees.

We're taking back the obscene profits

the fat cats stole from exploited workers.

I guess. I only hope your father

plans to use that money responsibly.

I'm rich! Rich, rich, rich!

Hey! Get out of my pool!

- Earl, what are you doing?! - I'm drowning... in money!

It's my turn! Tell him.

I wanna play in the money!

That's the baby's pool. Get that money out of there.

Oh, relax, honey. I'll buy him a new inflatable pool.

Olympic-sized, with a jewel-encrusted water slide.

This is obscene!

I'm beginning to think the jury awarded you way too much money.

Too much money?! Please...

There's no such thing.

All we needed was enough to cover our expenses.

So they gave me enough to cover my body...

and paper the walls of my house.

But all that money had to come from someplace.

Mom, it came from Wesayso.

There's plenty where that came from.

Yeah. Fran, I thought you'd be happier for me.

Finally, an average working guy gets his just desserts.

And how about all the other average working guys?

Well, I guess I get... their desserts too.

I think you're being awfully selfish.

Fran, this is not about what you think.

This is about me and my happiness.

And if you can't climb aboard my happy train, fine.

I'll towel off and go and visit my real friends at work.

They appreciate my good fortune.

They still look on me with respect and love.

That bum, Sinclair! I hate his guts.

Yeah, crushing his foot. He's so lucky.

We have to work our butts off

while Earl sits around counting money!

Oh, come on, guys. Be fair.

For someone with Earl's limited math skills,

counting can be very grueling.

Huh?

Hi-ho, peasants!

- Whoa! - Hey, pally-boy. Yeah.

Hey, Ralph, take a picture of me with my best friend, Earl.

- Oh, yeah. OK, smile. - Cheese.

Wow, it's in solid gold. Classy.

Looks like you've made wise investments.

Sinclair!

You got one heck of a nerve showing your face around here.

I oughta bite your head off and suck the blood

out of your neck like a sports bottle.

You can't touch me, sir.

- Otherwise I'll sue you again. - Nice.

Very well...

Then, why don't you step into my office?

You can be part of my little announcement.

Due to our recent multimillion dollar setback,

Wesayso has been forced

to reduce the size of its workforce.

Are you're gonna miniaturize us? Neat.

My apartment will seem so much roomier now.

Oh, shut up!

You aren't being shrunk. You're being fired.

- Everybody's fired! - Huh?

Get outta here! Now!

Sir, I realize the company's having a tough time,

but is this cutback absolutely necessary?

Why don't you ask your pal, Sinclair, there?

If I'm not mistaken, all this is his fault.

Yes, it's all Earl Sinclair's fault.

In order to pay him his huge jury prize

without cutting any executive salaries,

the Wesayso Corporation has been forced to lay off

tens of thousands of low-level workers,

while at the same time,

raising prices on all Wesayso products and services.

Wow, Dad. Looks like Mom was right.

Wesayso isn't suffering at all.

They're just making consumers pay for all the money you got.

Son, don't believe everything you see on TV.

This is just another lie

propagated by the left-wing media.

Earl,

I was just at the market and the prices are ridiculous.

This loaf of bread cost 300 dollars.

- What about that, Dad? - Oh, come on.

That must be that expensive bread

with the butter baked right in.

Earl, you've got to do something.

I've got no problems.

What about everybody who lost their jobs?

Hey, if folks are poor, maybe they deserve to be poor.

This will teach them to work hard and save their money.

Oh, you mean like you did, Dad?

Hey, anybody here need some yard work done?

They raised my rent this month, and I need some extra cash.

Of course, Roy, how much do you need?

Uh, 15 thousand dollars.

- 15 thousand?! - I supply my own tools.

- Earl, give him the money. - Uh, what?!

- Give it to him, Dad. - Uh...

Uh... I could... I could just give him the money,

but... would that really be helping him?

- Yes. - Uh...

I'm sorry, Roy, but it's a lot more complicated than that.

You see, it's my responsibility to provide you with incentives.

Otherwise, slovenly idlers like you

might never get off the dole.

- Um... Thanks. - Excuse me, Mrs. Sinclair.

It's awful hot standing out there on the freeway off-ramp.

Could I have something to drink? Please?

- Why, certainly, Sid. - Thanks.

- Champagne! - Don't we have anything else?

- Nope. Sorry. - Just champagne.

Don't give that slacker my champagne.

If he's thirsty, let him go and suck on the hose.

Earl Sinclair, you caused all this.

It's time you stopped spending money on champagne,

and started giving it to your friends who need it desperately.

But giving money to two or three friends

isn't going to solve the underlying problem here.

Yeah, that's right. Keep it up, I'll make it worth your while.

These economic problems are too widespread.

The only way we can help everybody is to get Wesayso

to lower their prices and hire back all their workers.

Yeah. You hearing this, Fran?

And how could we get them to do that?

Dad has to give back all the money.

Are you nuts?!

- Dad, it's the only answer. - It's not the only answer.

There's another perfectly good answer.

- No, I won't do it. - Don't you see?

That money is our leverage to force Wesayso

to re-hire all the workers

and lower prices back where they were.

But... But, it's my money.

I wanna keep it.

But it was a stupid jury award.

How can you enjoy that money

when millions of others are suffering?

Tell the truth, Earl.

Doesn't that expensive champagne

leave a bitter taste in your mouth?

I thought it was because I just brushed my teeth.

You came to do what?!

We came to return the money. Right, Dad?

Uh... Yeah.

- We don't want it anymore. - What?

It was ill-gotten gains and we're troubled

by the widespread hardship it's caused.

- Robbie more so than me. - Huh?

- You wanna give it all back? - That's right.

Well... Fine, leave it by the door.

Have a nice day.

First Wesayso has to agree

to hire back all the laid off employees

and lower all the prices it raised.

- What?! - That's the only way we'll give it back.

Lower prices? Never, never, never.

Keep your lousy money. We don't want it!

Oh, well. Too bad. You tried.

- Thanks for your time, sir. - Hold it, Dad.

Mr. Richfield, you've gotta lower prices.

Millions of folks are suffering.

Well, whose fault is that?

You take 800 million from us,

we just take it right back from everybody else.

- That's terrible! - No, it makes sense to me.

Well, I'm heading home. Come on, little ones.

Wait, Dad. We can't let him do this.

Now, you've heard him. He's made his mind up.

- Oh, look. A door. - Wait.

- We've gotta convince him. - Watch me go.

- You. Don't go anywhere. - Huh?

Hold it, Dad.

- I'll see you at home, son. - What?

Watch out!

- Oh, jeez. - Jeez.

Dad, are you OK?

Oh, sure. That was hardly a bump.

Whiplash! Oh!

I've hurt my neck. I'm gonna sue.

- Whiplash! - Hmm?

Order. We'll have order.

Members of the jury,

Have you reached a verdict?

Yes, we have. In the case of Richfield versus Sinclair,

the jury finds in favor of the plaintiff,

- B.P. Richfield. - Oh! The pain is so great.

If only there were some way to ease the suffering.

And how many millions is his award?

Well, we figure it should be a whole bunch.

'Cause, after all, his painful neck injury prevented him

from helping his mother with the home canning.

Oh, uh, by the way, thanks for the, uh, preserves, ma'am.

Oh, don't give it another thought.

Go wait in the car, Mom. I'll take you back to the home.

- Oh, no. - So we award Mr. Richfield,

say, um... Oh, 800 million dollars.

Ahh! Another 800 million?!

OK, that tears it. I am sick to death of these absurd awards.

Nobody on Earth deserves 800 million dollars!

You didn't taste her apple chutney.

Be quiet, you!

I am the judge here, and nobody is getting any more

crazy jackpot awards in my court.

All right, we're going to straighten this out

once and for all. You, Sinclair...

You give back all the money you got from Wesayso.

- Do I have to? - Yes.

Well, then, I'd be honored, Your Honor.

- And you, Richfield... - Huh?

Wesayso has to lower its prices and hire back all its workers.

Oh... Well, I'll...

Speak up, Bradley. You have such a lovely speaking voice.

OK, Your Honor.

Bradley?

Fine. That sorts that out. Am I forgetting anything?

What about these two? They've been making goo-goo eyes

at each other ever since the opening arguments.

Yes. I am sick to death of this beating around the bush.

Why don't you two just go ahead and get married?

Will you be mine?

- Wha... Yes. - Ah.

I now pronounce you husband and wife.

Wow, what a happy ending.

Well, I think that settles everything. Court is adjourned.

And those of you interested can stick around

for some wedding cake.

Well, there it goes.

Is a judge allowed to do all that?

I think he just did it.

You're not too disappointed, are you, Earl?

Are you kidding? There's cake!