Original subtitles

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I'd like everyone to give a round of applause

to that Caped Crime Buster,

that Veiled Vermin, that Slimy Samaritan...

The Masked Maggot!

Thank you. Thank you very much.

Tell me, oh Masked Maggot...

Yesss...

Why do you wear that costume?

What costume?

That costume! That cape, that cowl, that cloak...

Oh, the maggot suit.

I wear it to strike fear into the heart of evildoers.

Ooooh, I'm frightened already.

This is a true story.

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

Oh, Kate thought she was so clever.

She'd lied, cheated and swindled her way across

the North African desert to the Valley of the Kings.

Her card said "Egyptologist",

but "Tomb Robber" was a more apt description.

And now by sheer luck, she'd stumbled on the

resting-place of Memnon the Evil.

Legends told of his vast treasure,

guarded by an "army of gold"...

At the entry of the tomb, Kate unfolded the ancient

parchment that she'd purchased with a bag of fool's gold.

By pressing hieroglyphs of the sun,

moon and the stars, she triggered a latch.

The door hissed open.

Child's play.

As she passed the threshold, she saw a treasure trove

beyond anything she'd ever imagined.

Kate scooped up handfuls of gold,

jewels and diamonds - filled bags of them.

She peered into the darkness of the next room.

Lo and behold, there was indeed an army of gold -

life size figures of people from around the world,

from ancient Egyptian through Phoenician,

Elizabethan - right up to almost modern day.

She was about to step into the chamber,

when a mote of dust twinkled in a tiny shaft of light.

"Ah Ha!" smiled Kate.

She stepped back and plucked a bauble from the ground.

Then gently tossed the jeweled trinket

into the beam of light.

There was a groan - as if the whole temple

had awakened.

Then floors rumbled, walls shook.

And the place where she'd stood moments before

disappeared, leaving a gaping chasm.

She edged her way around the perimeter of the hole.

"Is that the best you can do?"

she whispered to the ghosts in the tomb.

The golden army was wondrous.

Hundreds of men and women from the four corners

of the globe were sculpted in the tiniest detail.

But Kate didn't marvel for long.

She knew that even greater treasure lay in the

burial chamber.

Kate found the secret lever that opened

a huge rock door.

She drew a sharp breath as she entered the vast room.

The sarcophagus of the evil Pharaoh lay at the feet of a

colossal stone figure.

Seated, it was easily 40 feet tall.

In the center of its forehead was a huge ruby,

the legendary "Third Eye of Memnon".

Kate opened her pack and set to work.

Using pitons and ropes she scaled the colossus.

She gazed into its sightless eyes,

as with her knife, she pried the giant ruby

from its forehead.

She was now rich beyond all imagination and in the

coming weeks she'd see the tomb

emptied of its treasure.

Kate raced across the floor when suddenly

the room began to shake.

Earthquake!

She looked back.

Something odd.

Had the statue moved?

Then... without warming - it stood up!

IT WAS ALIVE!

She ran!

Out of the burial chamber, past the army of gold.

Then the pit!

There was no time to go around it -

the giant was coming!

So she vaulted it.

The giant was gaining, but Kate could see the door!

He leapt the pit - she could tell there was no way he was

going to fit through the door.

She was going to make it!

The evil giant drew a magic sword from thin air.

He flung it.

Kate saw it coming... and dodged it.

The glowing sword tilted, swiveled in mid-air!

There was no escape.

Through her greed, she'd been rewarded with the thing

she wanted most.

Gold.

As much as she'd want - forever.

She'd been changed into a golden statue.

The evil One examined his new toy.

Then he carefully positioned her amongst his golden army.

He refastened the ruby but as Memnon prepared to sit,

he paused and looked at the arm of his throne.

"Chalk up another one...", he thought.

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

Memnon, the Evil.

"Friend", you ask?

Employer, actually.

I dust his golden army, every Thursday...

So tell me, Masked Maggot, what crime fighting tools

do you have?

Well, for starters, I have...

my utility belt.

Oh, what's that?

It contains secret stuff, like my maggot aerosol spray.

Maggot aerosol spray?

What does that do?

Well, it makes it smell like I'm here even when I'm not.

Here, have a sniff.

[SOUNDS OF DISGUST]

What's that?

That is my greatest crime fighting weapon of all...

the Maggot Mobile.

Oh, this I gotta see...

right after our next Freaky Story.

This is a true story.

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

Maggie.

Now, she'd had a strange life -

never known any other children.

It's on account of how she was raised...

You see, her parents were famous Biologists working on

ways to save the endangered animals of the rainforest

and the like.

And because of that, Maggie'd spent her entire

life on expeditions to lush tropic rainforests or dry

African Savannah.

Not that Maggie was lonely or lacked for anything.

There were always lots of people around.

But they were all grown ups, who never had any time to

play with her.

And that's where Maggie's Monkey came in.

Truth be told, he wasn't really a monkey.

He was a gorilla.

A four hundred and eighty-six pound Bull

gorilla Maggie decided to name Mister Bigglesworth -

and he was Maggie's best friend.

Whenever she needed someone to talk to,

laugh with, or even a kind shoulder to cry on,

Mister Bigglesworth was there for Maggie.

He helped her with her correspondence school

lessons and her gymnastics, but I fear,

he was no help at all when it came to ballet.

But alas, all good things must come to an end,

for one day, when Maggie received her correspondence

school graduation diploma, a sad realization dawned

upon them.

She'd done so splendidly well at school that she'd

won a full scholarship to the University.

But she'd have to leave family and friends

to further her education...

As she packed her things and prepared to leave for the

University, tears began to well up

in the great ape's eyes.

Maggie tried to comfort him, saying that she'd write and

send photos - but it just didn't seem to do the trick.

Mister Bigglesworth was inconsolable.

Months passed as Maggie began her studies

at the University.

Finally, Maggie's parents received her

first report card.

They opened it with great expectations,

but she wasn't doing nearly as well as they'd hoped.

It was quite obvious to all that Maggie was homesick

for Mister Bigglesworth too.

Her troubles compounded themselves during

the second semester.

She'd fallen so far behind that it appeared that she

was in grave danger of flunking out.

And it was with that feeling of trepidation that she

returned home during spring-break.

They greeted her at the airstrip.

Everyone was there; her parents,

the other biologists and of course,

Mister Bigglesworth.

They had a marvelous time - everyone exchanged stories,

bringing each other up-to-date on goings on at

school and in the field.

But most of all, Maggie was just happy to be home with

her dear friend, Mister Bigglesworth,

for it seems he had been in a deep state of depression.

No amount of bananas could erase his perpetual frown.

They'd spent a marvelous two weeks;

hiking, swimming and playing together as if they'd

never been apart.

But then it was time for Maggie to return

to University.

Mister Bigglesworth cried as she packed her bags.

He was so heart-broken, he was unable even

to see her off.

He must have gone to some remote corner of the jungle

to cry his ape eyes out.

They waited as long as they could,

but no one could find the great ape - and the weather

was closing in, so Maggie left without saying goodbye.

The weeks passed and Maggie'd made a dramatic

reversal at school.

The marks on her essays and written work rebounded

to their former stellar heights.

So much so, that the school decided to award her the

prize for Most Improved Student.

Her parents were thrilled - and they made the long

journey to the University for the awards presentation.

But when they got there, they realized that Maggie

would ask about Mister Bigglesworth

and how he was doing.

And the problem was - the monkey was gone -

and they feared the worst.

The great ape was so distraught at the loss of

Maggie's company that he had wandered off into the jungle

- possibly never to be seen again.

So they attended the ceremony and watched with

great pride as Maggie accepted her award.

As they walked back to her dorm room,

her mother asked, "Um, Aren't you going to ask

about Mister Bigglesworth, dear?"

"Oh, he's fine", Maggie said happily

as she opened her door.

For inside sat the great ape,

happily pounding away at her typewriter.

"Hey!" she said.

"Is my book report ready yet?"

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

Maggie - who with the help of her friend,

Mister Bigglesworth, "monkey'd around" all the

way to a Doctorate in English Literature.

Nice car, Maurice...

Oh, That's Masked Maggot.

Don't give away my secret identity.

Oh, your secret's safe with me.

[CHUCKLE]

Oh, nice tires.

Yeah, Mag wheels.

Get it, "mag'? [CHUCKLE]

I get it, I get it...

Oh, Oh, What's that?

Oh, That? That's a Rocket launcher.

Un, hunh, and that?

Oil slick.

Hmmm, Oooo! Ooh! And what about THAT one?

What does that thing do?

Would you like to give her a try?

Oooo, Would I?

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine... Lou.

Now, ever since he was a little guy,

Lou'd always heard tales about what a great sheriff

his Great-Gran'dad "Buffalo" Bob had been.

Word was, that Buffalo Bob had been the "rootin'-est

tootin'-est" Sheriff the town of Dry Gulch had ever

seen - and every one in Lou's family had tried to

live up to his shinin' example.

Why, there was the story about how Buffalo Bob

single-handedly brought the evil Hodgins' gang

to justice.

Or, the time that he'd stopped a bank robbery while

giving a talk on traffic safety to Miss Sugarloaf's

grade school class...

and not missin' a beat.

Oh, there were lots of tales about the sheriff,

but the most telling is how ol' Buffalo Bob met his end

- while staring down the meanest,

most vile evil-doers ever to darken the doorsteps

of Dry Gulch.

Seems they'd been on a crime spree and the bad guys were

a-makin' their getaway.

Sheriff Bob was in hot pursuit when all of a sudden

the bad guys got stuck on the train tracks.

They were stuck fast - and the way those bad guys were

wedged in - they couldn't open the doors to get out.

Well, wouldn't you know it, but the 5:15 from Capital

City was a-barreling down the tracks straight at the

bad guys' get-away car.

They were trapped.

There was no escape.

And that's when Sheriff Buffalo Bob

sprung into action.

He hopped into his police car and started a-pushin'

the getaway car off the tracks.

The train was getting' closer - and closer.

So, Sheriff Bob shifted 'er into low gear

and floored it.

The getaway car popped right off the tracks.

The bad guys gunned the engine and took off,

leaving Sheriff Bob in a cloud of dust.

That's when he realized that now

HE was stuck on the tracks.

Well, Buffalo Bob always wanted to be remembered as a

great lawman - and he certainly got his wish...

So now Lou was tellin' his pals all about the exploits

of his Great-Gran'dad when they decided to visit the

sight of the old train wreck.

It was Friday the thirteenth,

- the thirty-second anniversary of Buffalo Bob's

untimely undoing - and the boys drove "Ol' Betsy",

Lou's rusty old pickup truck to the level crossing.

They figured they'd wait for a couple of trains to pass,

and kick around some dust to look for bank robber's

loot or something.

It was 'round midnight when the boys decided

to call it a night.

The old rattletrap chugged forward a couple of feet and

then died - dust in the carburetor or something,

And wouldn't you know it? Right on the tracks.

Well, this "weirded" out the boys real good.

They hopped from the pickup and started a-pushin',

trying to get her off the tracks.

But she was stuck tight.

[distant train whistle]

"Wazzat?" asked Lou.

"Dunno", said Frankie as he looked at his watch.

Couldn't be a train this time o'night.

But then he realized the second hand wasn't moving.

His watch had stopped.

An' that's when they saw the bright headlight of the

train - off in the distance - coming straight at them.

"Hurry guys!", screamed Lou.

"We's gotta get Ol' Betsy offa the tracks!"

Lou jumped into the car and tried to start the motor.

It turned and turned but wouldn't catch.

"C'mon Lou! It's too late.

Leave it!"

But Lou kept turnin' that key!

Then it was too late.

The guys closed their eyes as the train roared past.

When it was gone, they waited for the cloud

of dust to clear.

They opened their eyes and looked down the track.

Ol' Betsy was sitting on the other side of the tracks.

"Lou! How'd you get her started so fast?"

"I didn't", said Lou.

"I thought you guys pushed me..."

"Uh. No. It wasn't us..."

"Gee. Felt like I was drop kicked by a mule..."

Lou got out and they walked around to look

at the back of the truck.

There on the tailgate, were a pair of handprints.

Like someone with superhuman strength had been

pushing back there.

Then Lou noticed something a-lying in the dirt,

glinting in the moonlight...

He bent down to pick it up.

It was a badge from the Dry Gulch Sheriff's Department.

The same kind that his Granddad Sheriff "Buffalo" Bob

would have worn that night.

The one that was never found...

...until now...

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

And Lou's still got that old Badge.

And he wears it with pride - in his new job as Sheriff

in the Town of Dry Gulch.

Where he always stays on the right side of the tracks.

Now, tell me, oh Masked Maggoty one,

what does, uh, what does this little button here do?

Which button there?

The little red one, right there.

Oh the, oh the [CHUCKLE] that little red one.

I wouldn't touch that one if I were you.

Oh? And why NOT?!

[SPRONG!]

Ejector seat. [LAUGH]

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine

It was a night in December, In the year of our Lord,

Eighteen Eighty-Eight,

While terror haunted the streets of our town,

The unwary met a grim fate.

The footsteps of doom,

Rang down cobblestone streets,

Through snow and through sleet and through rain,

As lone newsboy shouted to rare passersby,

"Old Jackie has Stricken Again!'

Inside of the cozy Lamb and Scythe Inn,

The cry of the newsboy rang out.

But on that night, my dears,

The poor guests and the staff,

Were riddled with worry and doubt.

A mysterious lodger, Had moved in - up the stair.

He reeked of evil and fear.

He dressed like no other,

With filth-matted hair.

You were wary, when he drew near.

Agnes the barmaid, a rare beauty 'tis told,

Held their attention fast,

As she told how The Stranger arrived,

At the Inn, a few nights past.

She told them how he appeared at the door,

In robes that were filthy and tattered,

But she had no spare room,

Just a chamber up the stairs

It was quiet was all that it mattered.

He dragged a large sack, To the top of the stair,

Refusing the food and drink offered.

Then reached into his pouch, And plucked a gold coin,

Which Agnes put into the coffers.

The pub-goers listened in dread silent awe,

As the barmaid spun her dark tale.

Then, sensing a look of fear in her eyes,

They spun 'round and saw Lodger pale.

He emerged from the shadows - descended the stairs.

Then he stood - clad in red cloak and hat,

He nodded a silent 'good evening' to all,

Then left. That seemed to be that.

Seizing her chance, Barmaid summoned her daring,

And lead a group up to his room.

Pushing the old wooden door aside,

They ventured on into the gloom.

The room, it was dark and cluttered with things

With almost no room for a bed.

And that's where she found - the in-fernal list,

With all their names written in red.

The names thus inscribed,

Caught in Agnes' throat

Could he be the "Jackie' they fear?

For at this dark hour,

With no one about,

The question: Did he lurk near?

Down cobblestone streets

He stalked through the night.

Peering through window and curtain.

Then he would pause, To add to his list.

Then a "check' - just to make certain

Later that night he returned to the Inn.

The jovial room now drawn quiet.

He stole up the stair

Paused and gave them a wink

That quite nearly started a riot.

The pub-goers summoned the Constables near.

The mob charged the stairs in their wake.

Lanterns, torches and pitchforks were waved.

And one bore an old wooden rake.

They'd pound down - that locked door.

There'd be no escape.

They'd capture the fiend, sure that night!

It's four stories down to the cold streets below.

He won't put up - much of a fight!

The door wouldn't open. They beat it again.

The hinges, they rattled and clattered.

But finally under the pounding onslaught,

The wood crumbled and splintered and shattered.

Oh! The room, it was empty.

The desk, it was bare.

The window was open, But He wasn't there.

The mob turned, They searched,

They scoured the room,

Searching for clues,

The "What', "When', "Why' and "Whom'.

Then candlelight fell upon his dread note.

They folded it open, To read, what he wrote:

A line down the middle dividing it twice.

Into two portions, The Naughty and Nice...

Then a shivering breeze, Blew in through the room.

Brought a sound from outside,

Had he fall'n to his DOOM?

They looked down from the window,

To the dark streets below,

Searching where his old body had fallen.

Then much to their shock,

Heard a cheery 'Hello',

Couldn't see from where he was callin'.

Then Agnes the Barmaid, Looked on not in fear!

For he rode in a sleigh, Pulled by tiny reindeer.

As he soared through the night,

Above old London-town,

A shower of bright gifts, Came a-tumble-ing down!

A doll and a horse, And a train and a toy,

A nice gift for every Good girl and good boy.

For there 'bove the snow, Covered rooftops he'd jingle.

He waved and he laughed, He was old man Kris Kringle!

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

And so, Agnes the Barmaid Swept out the dark room.

She opened the windows To dispel the gloom.

But while cleaning the chamber,

Dear girl got a fright,

When she opened a cupboard,

And found him that night!

Old Saint Nick, he lept up, Chased on down

to the streets. For the Lodger had mugged him,

And stolen the treats.

As he soared through the air,

Screamed with evil delight:

"Merry Christmas to all,

And to all a good night! [EVIL CHUCKLE]

Oh, are you okay?

[GASPING FOR AIR] Oh yeah, yeah.

I'm just a little bruised, like...

ALL OVER MY BODY!

Larry, do you know why I'm wearing this

purple and green outfit?

To look silly?

No... to hide the bruises.

Doh!

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