Original subtitles

Today, May 14th,

as every school child knows is the day when each year

the bunch beetles return to Pangaea.

Yes, the annual migration of billions of these magnificent insects

fills the sky with a breath-taking rainbow of color.

Now, as anticipation builds for the first glimpse of the bunch beetles

anyone with even the smallest appreciation of beauty

is gazing skyward.

"Adjust gas flow meter to desired output."

I'm hungry. Where's the food?

Earl, you've been fiddling with that stupid grill for an hour.

Fran, this is no mere grill.

This is a state-of-the-art, fuel-injected

outdoor meat preparation system.

The bunch beetles will be here any second.

Stop this or you'll miss the beautiful display.

You want to talk about beautiful display?

Look at this LED readout.

We never had to wait this long with the old grill.

There's always resistance to the new, isn't there.

Well, I'm not afraid.

Modern technology may be daunting to smaller minds,

but when I've mastered this Pyromatic 5000,

we'll be eating the future.

Jeez!

Yeah, grilled to perfection.

Look, it's starting.

- Where? - Oh, the beetles!

No, I mean the TV coverage.

Well, Katie, it's mere moments

until the bunch beetles return in what can only be described

as a spectacular panoply of color.

Aren't they the most remarkable little fellas too?

Returning every year on May 14th like clockwork.

And another interesting tidbit:

Bunch beetles eat those pesky cider poppies

that grow so abundantly this time of year.

The poppies are thick this year.

Looks like the beetles are returning just in time.

- Yeah.

My director tells me the beetles are expected to arrive

- just ten seconds from now. - Yeah.

Katie, care to join me in the countdown?

I would love to.

Ten, nine,

eight, seven,

six, five, four, - two, four, 12, nine,

three, two, one, - nine, nine, nine,

zero!

Uh...

Are they really, really small?

That's strange. They've never been late like this before.

- Oh. - Huh.

Uh...

And so we... have an unexpected delay.

Yeah, wow.

Well, it looks like it may be a while. Why don't we eat.

Yeah yeah, let's eat! Let's eat!

Gee, I wonder what happened to them.

Oh, it's just a bunch of bugs.

What possible difference could it make?

Honey, I'm home.

Aaah!

- Ohh! - Ow!

- Ow! - Ooh!

Aah!

As cider poppies continue to grow in fragrant but annoying profusion,

attention turns to the puzzling disappearance of the bunch beetles,

who would ordinarily be scarfing down poppies like nobody's business.

And so, throughout the nation anyone with even the least awareness

of the world around them is asking, "What happened to the bugs?"

What happened to my beer?

I set it right down here and...

Oh! Oh, there it is!

What do you suppose happened to them?

I have a theory.

Maybe they were all halfway here

when they realized they left the stove on and had to go back.

I mean, that always makes me late.

That's idiotic.

Now, stop yapping and help me cut these darn poppies.

Oh, yeah. OK...

Waaa!

Hmm?

Hi. What a landing. So, where's baggage claim?

You're one of them bunch beetles.

Yeah, 'cause we travel in bunches. Where is everybody?

Where have you guys been?

Darnedest thing. I got halfway here and it hits me:

I left the stove on!

- Told ya. - Oh.

Yeah yeah. Well, look it here now.

So start munching. These poppies are growing like crazy.

Hey, I'm not here to eat. I'm on my way to cruise chicks at the big swamp.

What about all the poppies? You guys are supposed to go crazy for these.

Look, I've got one thing on my mind right now and it ain't salad.

So sha-boing! Hello beautiful!

Hey hey, that's my daughter.

I'm just sayin'.

So, the swamp is your mating ground?

Yeah, baby. I've gotta get there pronto.

Us bunch beetles have a very short lifespan.

I've gotta get to the swamp, meet a female and mate.

'Cause in two weeks I'm dead.

Boy, talk about your biological clock.

Yeah, but it's OK, 'cause my legacy lives on.

Billions of bunch beetles, swarming all over the place, eating cider poppies.

Oh, so it's the baby beetles that eat the poppies.

Oh. And they'll be here any minute?

If I get out of here and do my thing.

Well, then, why are we wasting valuable TV time? Come, Roy.

And you doubted my stove theory.

Come on.

OK, cutie, I'm gone.

If you want me, I'm in the book.

No, wait, uh, Mr. uh...

- Stan. - Oh.

Stan. Do you even know where the swamp is?

You kiddin'? Bunch beetles have done this for thousands of years.

We have finely-tuned radar thingies.

So, what, it's through there, past the ottoman?

Uh.. you're lost, aren't you?

I think something's jamming my thingies.

Hey, I'll tell you what, Stan. How about if I take you there myself?

Ya dig me, don't ya? Naah!

Heh...! Oh... Oh.

What is it? You afraid I'm too short for you?

Look, Stan,

you're an insect, I'm a reptile, it's not gonna happen.

So you're saying if I convert...

Look, we came here to find the swamp.

And it's just beyond this thicket.

Yeah, bring on the honeys.

And stop kidding around, will ya?

But... where's the...

Where's the... the s...?

You call this a swamp?

It was right here, but they paved over your mating ground

and put up a wax fruit factory!

Well, I gotta say this is disappointing.

How am I supposed to meet babes without a swamp?

There are no babes to meet.

Where are all the beetles?

Step aside, sister. Oh, it's another one of those bugs.

- I thought we'd killed them all. - Stop!

This is a bunch beetle.

Hey, there's not a bunch anymore. Ha ha ha.

- You killed them all? - Had to.

Ah, this day just keeps getting worse.

Hey, this is a band-new, state-of-the-art factory.

Can't have bugs flying around.

They get sucked up in the intake vents. Messy.

But bunch beetles are a critical part of the ecosystem.

- Huh? - We need them.

Hey, girlie, if we need anything we need this factory.

After all, wax fruit does not grow on trees.

Huh?

Earl, what are we gonna do about all these poppies?

They're growing faster than I can pull them off.

That's because you're relying on outmoded hand-based techniques.

Yeah, relax and let technology create a way.

- There you go. - Wow.

Howard Handupme.

Chaos reigns throughout the city today

as the poppy plague continues to snarl traffic

and interfere with daily commerce.

Get away from me!

This just in.

A Pangaean teenager claims to have solved the mystery

of the missing bunch beetles.

She's standing by right now.

So let's talk live with Miss Charlene Sinclair.

Hi.

- My gosh! That's Charlene! - How exciting!

Did she have to wear those earrings?

Miss Sinclair, can you tell us exactly what you discovered?

Sure. Stan.

- How ya doing? Am I on TV? - Yes.

What is your relationship with Miss Sinclair?

Uh...

Well, that's a very personal question.

- We're just good friends. - She wants me.

- Stan is a bunch beetle. - Mm-hmm.

In fact, he's the last bunch beetle

because all the others were wiped out by the Wesayso Corporation.

Uh, yes, Mr. Getty, I'm watching it right now.

So what you're saying is that Wesayso is ultimately responsible

for the current cider poppy crisis?

Yes, their callous pursuit of profit has resulted in the utter destruction

of an entire ecosystem.

Of which I am a part.

Oh, yes, sir, I agree. It is a public relations nightmare.

We destroyed their mating ground and annihilated an entire species.

All gone.

- And for what? - What?

Wax fruit.

Hey! Hey! Hey! Wax fruit's important.

The ability to manufacture wax fruit is what separates us from the animals.

She is talking about things she does not understand.

She is... She is...

in the kitchen! Out of my way!

What we have here is progress for progress' sake.

Hold on! Hold on! Hey, wait wait! I wanna say something here!

- Da... Daddy? - Huh?

They're interviewing me.

Yeah? Well, it's time for a responsible, opposing viewpoint.

- What? - You're full of it!

Progress is good.

It's progress that put electricity in the toothbrush.

Progress put potato chips in a tennis ball can.

- That's true. - Sure, some sacrifices had to be made.

A forest here, a few species there.

But in the end, wouldn't you trade all that for great advancements like...

like, uh... oh,

like microwave toast?

Yeah! Yeah, you want to talk about progress?

This takes all the guesswork out of making toast.

Hey, wait a second, sir. I'm getting an idea.

Now, what if I could find a concerned citizen

who believes in what we do with all his little heart?

And who would voluntarily take this nasty cider poppy problem off our hands?

Oh, yes sir, I agree. It would be a rare public-minded citizen

who would be that gullible, but...

And I say keep your spotted owl.

Give me a fax machine I can take to the beach.

But I know where I can find one.

As the cider poppy crisis enters its second week,

it now appears a solution is at hand.

An independent task force of concerned citizens has come forward

with a plan to spray the entire super continent

with a powerful chemical defoliant.

At a press conference held earlier today,

task force director Earl Sinclair responded to reporters.

Mr. Sinclair, isn't the word "defoliant" just another name for poison?!

Uh... poison is such a harsh word.

We on the task force prefer to think of it as botanical bye-bye juice.

Just where does this "bye-bye juice" come from?

Uh, it was graciously made available to us

by a concerned industrialist who stands behind us 1,000 percent.

And who would that be?

- Aw, that would be... - Uh... he prefers to remain anonymous.

You're gonna coat the entire continent with poison?

Isn't there some safer alternative?

Like what?

Well, like trim back the vines as much as we can.

Live with a little discomfort,

and hope that nature eventually restores the balance.

That's inconvenient and time-consuming.

My plan is exciting and flashy and high-tech.

Yeah, but have you tested this stuff to be sure it's OK?

Oh, please.

Mr. Richfield assures us that, used wisely, under controlled circumstances,

this defoliant is as safe as mothers' milk.

It's on your head. I'm out of here.

Don't go near that door!

- What? - They're spraying tonight.

No one leaves this house.

Oh.

Huh?

Hey, here come the choppers now!

Hey, listen, they're spraying now.

Whoa!

Look! Pudding!

Oh, goodness. Maybe I should've taken in the laundry.

Well, too late now. Hey, I'm gonna call headquarters.

See how this thing's working.

Come on.

Well, Dad was right. It is killing the plants.

And stripping the paint off the patio furniture.

Good morning. Last night's massive aerial spraying

has succeeded in destroying all the cider poppies.

Unfortunately, it has also killed all other forms of plant life on the planet.

Well, there goes breakfast.

And so it seems the task force's solution to the cider poppy problem

has caused an environmental calamity of catastrophic proportions.

Somebody's in trouble.

Good morning, everyone. Isn't it a beautiful day?

Earl, have you looked outside?

That spray of yours killed every plant on Earth!

Oh, pish posh, Frannie. In an operation of this magnitude

there's bound to be some unforeseen casualties.

But let's not give in to wild hyperbole.

Uh... Well...

Maybe we went a little overboard with the poison.

A little? Your stupid spray killed all plant life.

Hey, what are you complaining about? You never liked salads anyway.

You destroyed the global food chain. No plants means no food at all.

Nonsense, there's a wide variety of commercial snack foods

that have virtually no natural ingredients.

Earl, we can't live on Ho Hos!

I can!

Hey, let's not get panicky.

Our task force tactical advisor

will know exactly how to bring back the plants.

How the heck should I know?

I'm a captain of industry, not a gardener!

Gosh, sir, we really ought to do something.

Folks get a little antsy when they suspect they may never eat again.

Oh, OK. Give me a minute. Uh... All right, all right.

- We're talking about plants, right? - Yeah.

Well, what makes plants grow?

- Um... - Dirt?

Uh... Talking to them in loving tones?

Rain! We've gotta make it rain. That's all there is to it!

But how? Hmm.

I know! Tell everyone to go out and wash their cars.

That always makes it rain.

Hey, we could have everyone take a bath.

Uh... no, wait. That makes the phone ring.

Oh, shut up! I've already got a plan!

If we want it to rain, then we need clouds.

And how do we make clouds?

Uh...

Oh, volcanoes, you idiots!

They spew off big puffy clouds whenever they erupt.

So all we gotta do is set off a whole bunch of volcanoes.

- Ah. - But how, sir?

We'll drop bombs in 'em.

I don't know, sir. It sounds like we'd be declaring war on nature.

- Exactly! - But sir,

our last great fix solution sort of backfired on us.

Maybe we should think twice before unleashing the unholy fires of hell.

Mmm, extreme problems call for extreme solutions.

This is no time for you to lose your faith in the power of technology.

Right, Mr. Task Force Chairman?

Yes, sir.

Bombs away.

Look at those big, black clouds!

If that doesn't mean rain, I don't know what does.

Ooh, hey, Frannie, could you turn up the heat in here? It's getting a bit nippy.

Frannie?

What's wrong with you guys? This is cause for celebration.

You might wanna hold off on the victory dance, fat boy.

- Earl, you better have a look at this. - What?

Unfortunately, once again,

the task force's latest tactic has gone tragically awry,

as thick black clouds of sulphurous gas and soot now shroud the entire planet,

blotting the sun from the sky and causing global temperatures

to drop precipitously.

So maybe we'll get snow instead of rain.

What's the diff?

When the sun comes out and melts all the snow

we'll have plenty of water.

And then all those plants will come up like gangbusters.

Considering the thickness of the cloud cover,

scientists predict it may be tens of thousands of years

before the sun shines over Pangaea again.

Uh...

Would anybody like a... refreshing beverage?

What are you whining about now, Sinclair?

Sir, I think we may have gone

just an eensie bit too far this time.

I don't know what you're talking about.

This sudden cold snap is a godsend.

Dinosaurs are flocking to stores buying Wesayso heaters,

Wesayso blankets,

and Wesayso old-fashioned hot cocoa mix.

We're gonna have the best third quarter in history.

Uh... sir, I think this could be the last third quarter in history.

Oh, don't turn into one of those environmental doomsayers, Sinclair.

"Boo hoo!" "It's raining acid!"

"There's a hole in the ozone!" "You're hurting Flipper!"

Bah! Bunch of tree-hugging pantywaists!

They're always standing in the way of progress

and it's our job to pave right over 'em!

I think you're missing the point, sir.

The world may be coming to an end!

Well, that's a fourth quarter problem.

We'll drop a bomb on that bridge when we come to it.

Right now, my biggest problem is trying to figure out

what to do with all this money!

Could I have everybody's attention?

There's something I have to say.

First of all,

Stan, I have to apologize to you.

Yeah, sure, whatever.

I realize that building that wax fruit factory

on your mating ground was wrong.

Oh, sure, wax fruit's important, but...

but so are bunch beetles.

Gee, that's big of you Earl.

But I'm still feeling kind of blue.

Maybe if there was someone holding me to her comforting bosom...

Hi.

Ooh! I'll take it.

And I guess I owe the rest of you an apology too.

You know, for bringing on the end of the world

and civilization and everything.

I always knew you'd screw things up.

I just didn't know how bad.

Mother, he said he was sorry.

And I know I put too much faith in progress and technology,

and had too little respect for nature.

But it's so easy to take nature for granted because it's always there.

And technology is so bright and shiny and new.

We understand, sweetheart.

Understand what?

Uh...

Well, little guy, what happened was...

Daddy was put in charge of the world

and he didn't take real good care of it.

And now, it looks like there won't be much of a world left

for you or your brother and sister to live in?

Are we gonna move?

Well, no.

There's no place to move to.

This is the only world we got.

But what's gonna happen to us?

Well, I don't exactly know.

But whatever it is, nobody's gonna leave you.

That's right, little guy. We'll all stay together.

Yeah.

Yeah. Yeah, and hey, I'm sure it'll all work out OK.

After all, dinosaurs have been on this Earth for 150 million years.

And it's not like we're going to just...

disappear.

And taking a look at the long-range forecast,

continued snow, darkness and extreme cold.

This is Howard Handupme.

Good night.

Goodbye.