All language subtitles for Freaky Stories - 2x11 - The Boy Who Cried Alien Did You Have Fun At the Party The Rich Fart Sewer Swimming Hole_Legendas01.ENG

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Well, hello again.

Us here at Freaky Stories...

eh, we got some real cool
ones here for...you...

[Maurice beatboxing]

Maurice, what're you doing?

Oh, uh, I went to the
dentist and my filling's

picking up radio.

'Cess Pool'... Yeah. ...a
new band from Texas.

Hot sound.

They said, "We'll
give you sidekick,

it'll make life easy"...

This here yarn is true.

Having been recounted to me
by the confidant of a close

acquaintance.

Our tale is one of fisherman who
sailed the world quite happily

Until they found a little scrap
of treasure hunting mappery

They wanted to get
rich, they thought,

Were tired of the
cod they caught.

They dreamed of gold and
jewelry and big fat steaks

in gay Paree.

The navigator viewed
the stars and

drew a course quite readily.

They circumnavigated the
entire globe methodically.

They stumbled on
the isle they sought.

A sub-group hatched
a devious plot

Involving double-crossers,
theft and bloody treachery.

Ha Ha!

They'd let smart Butch
do all the work

and find the treasure spot.

They'd steal the loot
right off of him

and strand him there to rot.

They'd sail off
in the ship alone.

And spend the gold
on stately homes.

And finally girls
would give them more

than just the time of day.

Now, the 'X' was
spotted underneath

a large enormous coconut palm.

They unearthed a
gilded box that held

a most peculiar charm.

A skull was lodged
in limbs on high.

The charm fit in
one of both eyes.

And choosing incorrectly
would precipitate

grievous bodily harm.

What to do?

They had no clue.

Pick left or right?

All the would-be pirates
'gan to quake with fright.

The sub-plot hatchers
schemed again

behind a nearby kumquat bush.

They'd fix the straws to
make sure that the shortest

went to poor old Butch.

They'd make him
climb the tree alone.

To accidents he
was quite prone.

He'd spring the
booby-trap for sure

and leave them all real flush.

With spider charm in
hand Butch headed up

the frightening treasure tree.

And face to face with
skull and bones he chose

the left eye hastily.

Could lead to
riches yet unknown.

Or had unlucky Butch just blown

His only chance at fortune
and be left a quivering mass?

The charm fit in the socket
with a most peculiar click.

It hit some levers
hidden in the tree trunk,

very thick.

A chain reaction was begun.

The tree bent back
and Butch was flung.

Across the isle above the
forest's brilliant canopy.

The rotters laughed
at Butch's demise.

He'd been flattened
by a dead man's eyes.

Arrr!

Meanwhile Butch was flying
high above the palms

and cacti plants.

You'd think he'd be a goner
but you'd never tell

from just one glance.

Though screaming loud,
"I must chose wrong."

He'd soon pick out
a better song

úcause here's where this
tall tale takes on

its last enormous twist.

The cadly trio waited
for the tree to drop

its priceless loot.

On top of fleecing Butch
each planned to shaft his

bosom buds to boot.

But plans this
tree had of its own.

Its trunk flung
open with a groan.

And doused them not
with riches but with

gads of bug-filled sap.
Ha!

Gus screamed, "The tree's
a double-crossing two-way

trapping one!"

Bud yelled, "The map was
set adrift by tricksters

just for fun!"

Our threesome groaned
with goop thigh-high.

"There was no right
to both those eyes!"

"At least Butch
got the worst of it,

said Stanley as he cried.

They all watched
Butch top his arch.

His decent brought comfort
to their wretched hearts.

See the strange thing is
that bad guys never finish

'head of better ones.

And Butch's flight was
landing him in much more

than fresh zebra dung.

Amongst the fungi and
mushrooms were thousands

of mint gold Doubloons.

"The left eye was the
right eye to have chosen"

our guy sang!

And what d'you think did
happen to the wretched

double-crossers three?

They stuck for days beneath
the skull and crossbones

so-called treasure tree.

They did not know
they were alone.

Their ship had
long-since sea-bound gone.

Their riches they
would never see.

Nor stately
homes, nor gay Paree.

Their double-crosses
crossed them back.

Their scheming butts
were stuck in sap.

They'd live their
days on coconut milk,

on this deserted isle.

Arrr!

So. You say your dental work
is pickin' up radio, huh?

Let's see.

[MUSIC]

MAN!!!
What have you got in there?

Uh...just last
week's grill scrapings.

Oh, sheesh!

Okay, I won't
breathe, I'll just listen.

Stay tuned for the
latest traffic reports,

on the hour...

Wow!
Can you change the station?

Oh, sure!

It's now eighteen degrees.

Tomorrow will be
muggy, followed by Tueggy,

Wengy, Thurgy...

Maybe I can get some music.

I think it's time for another
Freaky Story, don't you?

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of
a friend of mine, Judy.

Now, when were were kids,
Judy had this thing

for chocolates.

Don't get me wrong...I
totally support a person's

constitutional
right to chocolate,

but Judy, well...she had
this completely gross habit

of taking a bite out of each
chocolate in the box and

spitting out the
ones she didn't like.

Which meant that if
Judy ever offered you a

chocolate, you'd be
getting half-eaten,

saliva-coated rejects.

Yummy!

When the rest of us
started dating boys,

Judy started too.

But she just wanted boys to
show up at her door with a

box of chocolates.

And then she sent the
boys home and ate the candy.

Sometimes she'd arrange to
have two or three dates

an evening.

You'd think with so
many chocolate zits,

she'd have a hard
time getting a date.

All I can say is thank
goodness for pancake make-up.

But Judy knew that she
couldn't keep it up.

She needed to find a
permanent sugar daddy,

so to speak, and fast.

Fortunately, along
came Milton Sweet,

a sweaty, nervous geek.

But he had one redeeming
feature...his daddy owned

the SweetTreat
Chocolate Company.

So, a strategically
dropped notebook here,

a few bats of the
old eyelashes there...

Judy had him wrapped
around her little finger.

And after a few
subtle hints,

Milton was doing
his own wrapping.

Wrapping boxes of chocolates
to give Judy as presents.

Of course, Judy would spit
out about ninety per cent of

them, but she
was still happy,

until one day, Judy found
the Ultimate Chocolate'!

Now you'd think finding the
Ultimate Chocolate would

have made Judy ecstatic.

Which it did, unfortunately,
she inhaled the thing in

one point five seconds...then
discovered it was the only

one of its kind in the box!

The others all
had the stupid,

gooey centres she hated.

Judy nearly had
a conniption.

The best chocolate ever!

And only one of them
in the entire box!

She just had to get more.

But it didn't matter how
many boxes Milton gave Judy,

there just weren't enough
crunchy-centered chocolates

in each box to satisfy her.

Finding them soon
became an obsession.

Eventually, Judy realized
the solution had been under

her nose all along.

All she had to do was fight
her way through the mounds

of discarded chocolate
boxes piled up in her room,

then find Milton and
convince him to sneak her

into his dad's
chocolate factory.

There she could have all the
crunchy-centered chocolates

she wanted.

Now convincing
Milton wasn't that hard.

If Judy was
thinking with her stomach,

Milton was thinking
with his hormones.

He figured a night time
tour of a spooky automated

factory would allow Judy to
get closer to her beloved

chocolates, while he
got closer to Judy.

So that night, they
sneaked inside the factory.

Soon they found conveyer
belts for chocolate-covered

cherries, nougat,
coconut...all spewing out a

hundred candies a minute,
all of which Judy hated.

Slowly but surely, they
went through seemingly every

conveyer belt in the
place, coming across every

chocolate covered fruit, nut
or cream on the planet,

but still none of Judy's special
crunchy-centered chocolates.

Until, finally, they came
across one last conveyer

belt tucked away in
the factory basement.

Unlike the others,
it was old and slow

and nearly falling apart.

Judy didn't like the
looks of it at all.

But, in the
interest of science,

she tried one
of the candies.

Eureka!

It had the crunchy,
chewy center she'd been

searching for!

Without even thinking, she
grabbed handfuls and began

stuffing her face.

But...what was the filling?

The sign on the filling
vat said "Raspberry Creme",

but it sure didn't
taste creamy...or fruity.

Overcome by curiosity, Judy
decided to take a peek into

the vat of filling
to see what it was.

And then she spit out her
chocolate faster than she'd

ever done in her life!

Because, inside the
vat, gorging themselves on

raspberry creme filling
and then falling onto the

conveyor belt...

were hundreds of crawling,
squirming insects that had

found a sweet place to nest.

Her crunchy, chewy
centers were cockroaches!

Ugh!

This is a true story.

And it happened to a
friend of a friend of mine,

Judy, who never ate
another chocolate again.

And if I were you, I'd read
the list of ingredients on

your next box of
chocolates very carefully.

I'm trying to get
some decent music here.

[RADIO TUNING]

Oh man, you should
get pushbutton teeth.

After this story, we'll see
what else Maurice can get.

Don't move, don't move!

This is a true story.

It happened to a
friend of a friend of mine.

Joe was a
travelling salesman.

His territory covered
most of the Omega Sector.

He used to drive
around hawking,

what he called,
'quality merchandise'.

Dime store stuff.
Grav-jiggs and Time Coders.

He liked the ladies.

And the ladies?
They liked him back.

One night he had finished
his last call at my shop.

I'd just placed a big order
and Joe went out for a steak

dinner to celebrate.

He was eating alone
reading the paper.

It was hard to miss
the headline:

"Neuroblock - Killer
Stalks the East Side".

Some nutball was using a
"blocker" on unsuspecting

motorists.

Neuroblockers.
What a way to go.

The thought sent
shivers up Joe's spine.

He paid his tab and
started to leave.

And that's when he saw her.

A vision in red.

Standing at the door.

Gazing out into the night.

The kind of dame that could get
you to do whatever she wanted.

All she had to do
was snap her fingers.

"Excuse me, Mister,"
said the woman in red,

"Could you give me a lift?"

Joe couldn't
believe his luck.

"Sure," said Joe,
"Which way you going?"

"Whichever way you are..."

Joe didn't know whether
to pinch himself or not.

'Cause if this was a dream, he
sure didn't want to wake up.

Joe started the
thrum motors.

It was well past midnight
and the traffic was light

as he pulled out
into the street

and up the East Side Highway.

"It's really
dangerous these days,

what with that Neuroblock-Wacko
out there, he laughed.

She was a real looker.

He turned to steal
another peek at her.

And that's when he came nose
to nose with a NEUROBLOCKER!

Right in his face.

She was the
East Side killer!

"Alright Mister," she said,
"You can pull over here and

don't try anything funny."

Funny was the last
thing on his mind.

Joe knew that if he
didn't do something quick,

he'd wind up just
another notch on the old

neuroblocker.

And he didn't want
to go out that way.

So he floored it.

Jammed the pedal right to
the metal 'til there was

nowhere else for it to go.

The car leapt
forward, ran a red light.

Roared through
an intersection.

It was late at night.
No other traffic.

No witnesses.

"You'll get us both killed!"
she screamed.

"Maybe I will,
but if I gotta go,

I'm not goin' alone,
I'm taking you with me."

The car picked up speed.

Phone poles flashed by like
slats on a picket fence.

Streetlights
flashed out an S.O.S.

"STOP THE CAR!"

"And then what?", said Joe, "Let
you use that blocker on me?

What do ya take
me for, a sucker?

Lady, you're
running out of options.

And we're running
out of road..."

Manhattan's an island.

And Joe's car was chewing
up pavement like it was

last call at an
all-you-can-eat buffet.

The lady in red was starting
to get scared...real scared.

"Stop the car!
You're crazy!

Let me out!", she screamed.

"Drop the Blocker!...and I'll
think about it", said Joe.

It fell to the floor.

"Now listen up.

I'm going to slow down...and
you're getting out."

And with that he
pushed a button.

The gull-wing door on
her side hissed open.

The wind whipped her hair.

The car bled off speed until
it was going about thirty.

"Lady, we're outta time."

"It's now or never",
said Joe as she climbed

into the doorway.

"JUMP!"

And she leapt
into the night.

Joe heard a splash.

Then he stomped the brakes.

The car fishtailed in the
rain and skidded out -

along the pier.

Chewing up railing,
spitting out matchsticks.

Then it came to a rest -

just inches from
the briny depths.

Joe sat for a moment
to collect himself.

Then he drove
back up the pier.

A crowd of late night
rubber-neckers had gathered

around the base
of a lamppost.

Joe didn't look.

Something told him she wasn't
gonna bother him anymore.

This is a true story.

It happened to a
friend of a friend of mine.

Funny thing is, the
"Neuroblocker"

never struck again.

And Joe?

Well, from that night on,
he always travelled alone.

Count is two
balls, two strikes.

Hudson winds up, throws.

Ball three.

Bah! Ball three!
That was a strike!

It was right over...

[GASP]

I saw it!
I saw it!

He's getting TV
on his tonsils!

Ah, you guys
watch the next story.

I gotta see the
eighth inning.

Okay, Maurice, tilt down,
I can't see left field!...

This is a true story.

It happened to a
friend of a friend of mine.

Anna was busy mulling over
how she was going to explain

to her parents when she
returned home that she was

maintaining a
solid "D" average.

Well she never was
one to fret about much,

but it was quite a quandary
she found herself in.

Of course, it was
completely of her own doing.

Her sorority sisters made
jokes that the "D" stood for

day dreaming, as that seemed
to be what Anna did best.

They weren't much
for offering sympathy.

In fact, they voted Anna
sloth of the school term,

and awarded her the
task of cleaning the

sorority house attic.

She came across
an old trunk.

Her idle curiosity
got the best of her

and she lifted the lid.

Inside, Anna found
a yellowed letter.

It was dated
March Seventeenth,

Seventeen Eighty,
and was addressed

"Dear Mother and Father...".

Anna, not all that anxious
to undertake the job of

cleaning, couldn't
help but read on...

"I'm sorry I have been
remiss in writing you this

term, but if you bear with
me I will try to explain...

The trip went well, the
carriage was well appointed

and the horses
were strong and true.

The countryside
was beautiful.

However things took a
dramatic turn when our

carriage was held
up by a highwayman.

The last thing I remember he
was slicing the air with a

razor sharp rapier, then
I believe I must have

lost consciousness."

"It seems I had been
kidnapped by the masked

bandit who I came
to know as Rodrigo,

and together we sailed off for
adventures on the high seas.

Unfortunately the
accommodations were less

than desirable.

In fact I was
tossed below deck,

with little food and water.

Oh, how I longed to feel
the warmth of the sun

on my face.

Then one day my
wish came true,

though it was
not as I expected.

And any romantic notions I
once had about life at sea

where quickly quelled, for
it was a hard life indeed.

I was awarded the duty
of swabbing the deck.

It was a task that
became more grueling

as the days wore on.

"Soon I decided it was time
for a change of scenery,

and set a plan of
escape in motion.

But first, of course, I had
to dispatch the pirates

in a bare-fisted
battle to the death!

I was lucky enough to secure
passage on another vessel.

Then when it seemed our
hopes were to be dashed like

so many storm-bound ships run
aground on a rocky shore,

we found a hospitable port.

Actually, it was more of
a tropical paradise...

As I drank in
the rare scents,

I slipped down
into the cool water.

Once I ridded my body
of the swamp leeches,

we were welcomed to the island
by a tribe of natives.

Oh, how colourful they were,
with their bright face paint.

They were nice enough to
treat us to many of the

local delicacies,
like beetle larva,

spider's eggs, and
their traditional staple,

which appeared to be some
kind of exotic noodles.

At first we thought the
natives were trying to tell

us that the dish would
help make us smarter.

Imagine our surprise when
we realized that we were in

fact eating real brains!

Thus the final chapter of
our journey ended with a

fond farewell to our new
found friends and a hasty

return to our ship.

We were lucky enough to
procure some oars for the

return voyage and were
picked up along the way by a

Galleon of Spaniards
and ferried

back to the continent.

As we are now safely
back in the country,

I'm writing to let you know
that Rodrigo and I plan to

marry and would
like your approval.

He really is a wonderful man
once you get to know him.

And anyway,
he'll do for now.

Your loving daughter, Emma.

P.S. - Just to let you know,
I arrived at school on time

and without incident and have no
immediate plans for marriage.

I am failing French
and Social Studies,

though, and wanted you to
see these marks in their

proper perspective.

Love, E."

This is a true story.

It happened to a
friend of a friend of mine,

Anna.

And it gave her an idea.

In fact it inspired her
to pen a very imaginative

letter of her own.

"Dear Mother & Father..."

Okay, Michelle writes
from Sudbury: [AHEM]

Dear Larry, my big
brother scares me,

ooh, by telling
me we have ghosts.

Is there such a
thing as ghosts?

You bet there is.

Oh come on, Maurice,
don't scare the little girl.

No, no, oh yeah.
Wait here...

Huh, believe this guy?

Wooooo, wooooo...I am
the ghost of Ted's Diner.

I don't believe this.

So, Mr. Ghost, you gonna
scare me or somethin'?

Oooo, if I can't scare you, I'll
bring all my ghosty friends.

They're even scarier than me.

Oooo, look at me, I'm
shivering in my boots.

Now don't you
worry, Michelle,

ah, I happen to
know this here ghost.

Watch this.

Cootchie, cootchie,
cootchie, coo.

[LAUGHING]

Oh, I see you found him.

Yeah and I'm ticklin' him too--

Ahhhhhhh!!!

So, how you doing?

Oh, not bad... you know,
scarin' some people,

ghostin' around a bit...

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