Original subtitles

(quacks)

Come on, Charles.

Don't be chicken.

No! Will not submit to peer pressure!

Ah, stop your struggling, Chas.

Just lay back and enjoy a nice, refreshing...

cigarette.

(fiendish laughter)

(taking long drag)

(coughing)

Damn you, Mambo!

You've been sneaking cigarettes for weeks now.

Frankly, I'm growing tired of the secondhand smoke.

Ha, ha, ha! Don't get uptight, man.

Everybody knows cigarettes

make us look mature, sophisticated and cool

and the best thing about them

is they're so relaxing.

(woman screaming)

(babbling)

(keening)

Aunt Bernice, don't you think

we're a little old for a time out?

I'd say it's time somebody got a good spanking.

No!

I was talking about me.

This is no time for jokes!

This is serious!

Bernice, don't you think you're getting a bit carried away?

I mean, what red-blooded American boy hasn't snuck a few ciggies,

cut a couple of classes, given the home ec teacher

an after-class tongue bath?

You've led a really interesting life, haven't you?

What a long, strange trip it's been.

When children pick up bad habits

it's time to take a good, hard look at ourselves

and place the blame where it obviously belongs--

on the cigarette companies.

And it's about time somebody taught them a lesson.

ANNOUNCER: And now we join

the congressional anti-smoking hearings already in progress.

I also propose that instead of using cute, cuddly mascots

to promote their products

the tobacco companies only employ unappealing spokespeople.

For example, instead of, say, Joe Camel, we'll have...

Sammy Stroke-face...

Randy the Respirator...

and Carcinomi, the Cancer-ridden Clown.

(all shuddering)

We're also all familiar

with the glamorization of smoking,

particularly in old movies and TV shows.

Well, I think I've come up with something

that finally nips that in the bud.

Lights!

Here we see Mr. Humphrey Bogart

perpetrating the myth that smoking is cool.

Play it again, Sam.

Now, watch what happens when we employ a process

called "revisionization."

His cigarette becomes a nutritious, delicious carrot.

Play it again, Sam.

Revisionization comes to us from Germany

where the government uses it to block out all evidence

of their nazi past.

These measures, along with my plan

to banish all smokers to an underground penal colony

are reasonable and rational...

MAN: Some people say that smoking is evil.

Well, we'd like to ask those people:

Are parks evil, too?

The tax revenue collected from tobacco products

goes directly into our nation's parks

and recreational facilities.

So, next time you ask someone to snuff out that cigarette

remember, you're snuffing out a child's happiness.

(crowd murmuring, gavel bangs)

MAN (southern drawl): Forgive me for splicing

my moving picture to the end of yours, ma'am,

but as president

of one of them so-called "evil tobacco companies"

I merely wanted to present the other side of the story.

Rip out his trachea!

String him up by his lungs!

(chortling)

Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are

while in the throes of bloodlust?

(suppressed giggle)

My name's Walt Evergreen,

and I'd like to extend an invitation

for you to visit one of my tobacco facilities.

I think you'll find that, like it or not,

cigarettes are as American as a pie-eatin' jamboree.

(chortling)

Okay, I'll visit your garden of deadly delights,

but I'm bringing my family with me

because this is who pays the price

for your toxic tobacco, Mr. Evergreen--

the average, normal American family.

(woman screaming)

hey, it's your loss, baby.

What the hell are you staring at?!

(snoring)

Kathy Ireland...

Miss Bernice and her kinfolk.

Welcome to Tobacky Land.

It's beautiful!

And they're even more beautiful--

Your own private assistants,

who will happily

satisfy each and every one of your personal needs.

And you're mine?!

Whoa! Check out the size of the boll weevils on you!

Now, I'd be happy to answer any and all questions

regardin' our little cottage industry,

but before we get to the serious stuff

I'd like to give y'all a heapin' helpin'

of Southern fried hospitality.

(chortling)

EVERGREEN: So, I turned and said,

"Don't be afraid, Mr. President.

With gums that bad, I doubt she'd even have teeth."

(both laughing)

Oh, Walt, you're such a brilliant conversationalist.

And what a gracious host.

I mean, the generosity you've shown us--

the food, the gifts

the extremely entertaining holograms of Billy Ray Cyrus--

oh, how can I ever thank you?

Miss Bernice, it's reward enough

that you now realize we tobacco industry folks

aren't so bad after all.

Well, unfortunately, tobacco is.

Come again?

While I'm certainly grateful for your incredible hospitality,

nothing could ever change my mind

about the evils of your cursed crop.

I hope you understand, Walt.

I understand completely.

(all gasp)

Man, this vacation keeps getting better and better--

the old bind-and-boink!

(groans)

Now a little slap-and-tickle!

Ow!

(slurring): Now "multiple skull fractures with cerebral hemor..."

You couldn't keep quiet

about the tobacco thing, could you?

I was only doing my job.

How was I supposed to know

Walt's a little bit country,

a little bit Hermann Goering?

(both grunt)

You tobacco thugs may take away our freedom,

but remember that nobody

nobody can take away our dignity.

Listen to the chains sing their happy chain song.

* Doody-doo-doo-doo *

* Doo-dee-dee-dum-dum be-bop bop-a-squee-da *

(laughs)

Is there someone else we can be shackled to?

Quit complaining.

Out of all the people and farm animals

I could be shackled to,

why in the name of all that's nude and oiled

and slides up and down a brass pole

do I have to be shackled to Grandma-ma?

(sobs)

Well, we're certainly enjoying

your little Bataan Death March,

I wish you'd say where you're taking us.

'Fess up, Walt.

What are you going to do--

beat us, torture us, murder us?

And miss out on all the irony?

No, my sweet lady.

I've devised the most insidious plan

you could even imagine.

You see, I want y'all to pick tobacky.

(growling)

Wow! I haven't felt this level of Mason-Dixon sexual tension

since Barney Fife was in the kitchen with Aunt Bee.

Shut up! Shut up!

You all do what I say,

and everything'll go just as smooth

as a lung full of mentholated nicotine.

Break the rules, and so help me God,

I'll be all over you

like Louie Anderson at a bake sale.

And now for the recitation of the rules:

Now wait just a...

Anyone interrupting the recitation of the rules

will spend a day in the box.

(all gasp)

Now, as I was saying...

Just a ruby-redneck minute here.

I've got some complaints.

First off, where are the topless Tantric massage therapists?

The bursitis in my soon-to-be tobacco-picking right arm

hasn't been this inflamed since I bought

the Shannon Tweed laser disc box set.

Secondly, this tar-heeled humidity

is absolutely disgustifying.

How about building an air-conditioned dome,

with naked cosmetically- augmented

trapeze artists overhead,

so one could not only pick tobacco without chafing

but also be delightfully entertained?

Thirdly...

Congratulations, young fella.

You just earned yourself a week in the box.

(all gasp)

(screams) Not the box!

I'm afraid of tight places.

That is to say, certain tight places.

(chuckles)

No! Sweet mother of mercy!

Not the box!

Don't put me in the box!

Don't put me in the box!

No! Please!

(whimpers)

Huh? When did I get a tattoo there?

I'm hot and sweaty.

I'm thirsty and nauseous.

And I miss Teddy.

Oh, we'll be home soon

and you can hug your little teddy bear.

Not my teddy, Aunt Bernice.

Teddy Kennedy.

He invited me to a kegger at the compound.

Will we ever get out of here?

Of course we will.

And you want to know why?

Because our neighbors must have noticed

we haven't been home for a while

and they're going to do something about it.

(all laughing)

Why, I bet the police

are out looking for us right now.

(snickering)

Hey, and let's not forget Cornfed.

He's probably waiting by the front door

till we get back.

(Muzak playing)

We're going to get out of here.

I promise.

(faintly): I promise.

Oh, if I weren't trying to be cool smoking cigarettes,

none of this would have happened.

Nobody's blaming you, Mambo.

I am! These conditions are inhuman.

This place is going to kill us, I tell you.

It's going to kill us all!

Man, this country living is fine-tastic.

Who'd have thought being shoved in a box

with your ankles behind your ears

could be such a rush?

Anyhoo, I got a few minutes

before being shoved back in the box.

Got it booked for the High Holy Days, you know, and, uh...

No offense, team,

but I've seen peppier-looking roadkill.

Might I suggest a multivitamin?

(sobbing): Don't you see, Duckman?

This place is killing us!

On your feet, Miss Bernice.

Break time's over.

What? We picked every single leaf of tobacco

on this plantation.

True. But we still need some guinea pigs

to test the addictiveness of our new king-sized lights.

Walt, please!

We're not going to make it!

Guess you should have thought of that

before you rode your liberal high horse into town.

You and your kinfolk

gonna be slave to the tobacco industry

for the rest of your natural lives.

(laughing)

That's it!

I've had it!

(gasping)

Lousy stinking screw.

Nobody treats me like that and gets away with it.

ALL: Grandma-ma?!

Guess again.

Rosie O'Donnell?

(whooping)

I'll give you a hint:

Hyah!

Remember a few months back...

when I busted out of Death Row?

And then I pulled a switcheroo with your Grandma-ma,

who just so happens to look just like me.

Ha!

Sure, you caught on and called the cops.

But right before they cuffed me

I pulled yet another switcheroo.

These past few months

I've been pretending to be your Grandma-ma,

but it's really been little old me all along.

Agnes Delrooney?!

Miss me, baby?

Mm-mwa!

(both spitting)

If you're Agnes,

then the real Grandma-ma is rotting away

in some lice-infested prison cell.

(Godfather-like music playing)

Uh-oh, better get going

while the going's still good.

Move it, petunia.

Yahh!

Oh, for God's sake, please, get help!

Dahh!

(screaming)

Argh! My effin' back!

(grunts)

Try to keep up, butch.

Button your lip, Mary.

You fake being catatonic for six months.

Then see how easy it is running for your life.

Okay, people, listen up:

I want a hard-target search of every outhouse,

beach house, warehouse, boathouse, smokehouse,

clubhouse, icehouse, hothouse, white house, crack house,

bathhouse, doghouse, cathouse, reptile house,

halfway house, slaughterhouse,

haunted house, gingerbread house and Joe Eszter-house

in the tri-swamp area,

and people, I want 'em brought back alive.

Aw, who am I kidding?

This is the Deep South.

Let's bring 'em back dead.

(cheering)

(panting)

Hey, Dingleheimer, I want to thank you

for waiting on me hand and foot these last few months.

When I think of all the times I had to shave your shoulders

or trowel boil salve on your hideous white butt

or scrape Fromunda cheese off your toenails...

I remember a certain little thing you seemed to enjoy.

Well, sure, live guppy enemas are always entertaining.

My point, Agnes, is that you stink--

both literally and, uh, the other "'tively."

Save your fancy words, college boy.

The only way you're going to impress me

is getting us out of East Jerkwaterville.

Hmm. I got an idea.

Are you sure this is the only way across that stream?

It is without getting wet, fruit cup.

Now, quit your yapping and pull your weight.

Speaking of weight, things would be a lot easier for me

if Planet Agnes didn't have its own massive gravitational pull.

Why, I oughta...

(yells) (grunts)

(screams)

(grunts)

(screams)

(squeaking)

(moaning): Oh...

(laughs)

Have I told you lately that I hate you?

Oh, I'm deeply hurt.

Please like me, Poindexter.

I want so much for you to like me.

I'd rather drive cross country with the road company of Rent

than spend a second with the likes of you.

Them's fightin' words, limp wrist.

Maybe you'd like to take a swing at me.

Come on, Mighty Joe Louis.

You want a piece of me?

Let's go, milk dud!

Hit me with your best shot!

Fire away!

(grunts)

Did somebody punch me,

or was that a gentle summer's breeze?

(shrieking)

(grunting)

(weak chuckle)

(groans)

(hounds baying)

Good news, Captain, we gave the bloodhounds

one of the old lady's undergarments

and after they stopped convulsing

it looks like they picked up their trail!

Well, what do you know?

I guess our little rumba broke our charm bracelet.

And not a momento too soon.

Last thing I need is an attack dog

mistaking my heinie for kibble and bits.

Thanks for everything, Aggie--

the beatings, the put-downs, the incessant loogie hawking.

You shall be missed.

(groaning)

Old Bagnes--

storm troopers right around the bend.

Wouldn't this be the time to bust a move?

I can't feel my legs.

Como?

My legs, you dumb Dora.

I guess I fell funny back there.

Well, you got to do something. Roll! Bounce! Levitate!

Put a fork in me, skeezix.

This bird's done.

Still, I could think of worse ways to go.

Want to hear something funny?

These past few months

have been some of the best times of my life--

being part of a family, and all.

(gulps)

Heck, if I had a family like yours

maybe I'd have gone on to become something respectable--

you know, like a forger or an extortionist,

instead of this old, lost soul.

(dogs baying)

MAN: Whoa, Ed!

Hey, this way!

Well, what are you waiting for?

Go save your family.

Go on! Beat it.

Uh, no offense, Ignatz, but I ain't in the mood for sex.

What?

DUCKMAN (straining): I'm taking you with me,

and I don't want to hear any more lip!

�Comprendo?

(dogs barking)

Hard human targets in sight.

Fire at will.

(panting)

(gunshots continue in distance)

Ya!

Hey! Open up!

Help!

(gun cocks)

(laughs)

You two might as well save your last breath.

You see, we're the tobacco industry.

We've taken on doctors, lawyers, presidents--

and we're still making more money than ever.

Ain't nobody going to help you now.

Tony Randall?!

Good day, madam.

May I be of...

(sniffs)

Young man, this is a smoke-free zone.

Mr. Randall, I happen to be president

of one of them so-called evil tobacco companies.

He's trying to kill us!

Of course he is.

The tobacco companies are vampires

preying on the lungs of our children

and the circulatory system of our society.

He means kill us now.

I've been dreaming of this moment

Mr. Anti-smoking New York City thespian.

Why, I'll bet you're probably Jewish, too.

Be that as it may...

eeka-beeka-boo, my dear.

Eeka... beeka... boo!

I don't believe it!

Tony Randall turned them into bugs!

Orthoptera locustidae, to be precise

although you probably know them

as tobacco-eating locusts.

Fly on, insatiable little ones.

Be fruitful and multiply

and devour every last tobacco plant on this planet.

Holy tamale!

How'd you do it, Tony?

While people always think of me

as Felix Unger or Jonathan in Pillow Talk

they always seem to forget

I was also the star and technical consultant of...

the 7 Faces of Dr. Lao.

The Seven Whazzis of Dr. Whozis?

It's a renter,

available at your local Blockbuster.

Make it a Blockbuster night.

(fanfare)

Hey, Mambo, we're being honored

for busting the tobacco industry

all because you got busted for smoking a cigarette.

Ironic, isn't it?

Don't you ever shut up?

You know, Agnes, for a psycho-thrill-killing

convicted felon-- now conveniently pardoned by the president--

you ain't half bad.

You ain't too shabby yourself, liver lips.

How's about a toast to celebrate

our return to civilization?

WOMAN: Hey! They've got alcohol!

Municipal Health Code 1914

expressly prohibits the consumption

of alcoholic beverages

without posting proper health warnings.

Duckman, Agnes, I'm afraid you're under arrest.

(laughing) (laughing)

MAN: Eeka... beeka... boo!