(WIND BLOWING) (YELPS) (INHALES DEEPLY) Ah! Solitude! Whoa! Whoa! Hey, what... (YELPS) Yeesh! (STRAINING) (PANTING)
That felt like rush hour! (GRUNTING) (SCREAMS) (GASPS) Where'd that monstrosity
come from? (SCREAMS) (YODELING) (BOTH GRUNT) (THUD) (GRUNTS) Remove yourself
from my mountain, pink fellow! My new resort isn't for... (SCOFFS) Bunny slopers
like you. You schuss like a wuss! Oh, yeah? Well, you hot-dog
like a weenie! Huh? (SKIERS SHOUTING AND LAUGHING) Aha! Avalanche alert! Clear the
area
immediately! (CHUCKLING) (HORN HONKS) Boy, I must be coming down
with something. (HORN HONKING) (SNOW RUMBLING) Avalanche! (SCREAMS) (SCREAMING) (SEAL BARKING) MUCK LUCK: Stop, seal!
Oh, stop! Come here, seal!
Whoa! Aah! (THUD) Huh? Muck Luck! What brings you down
to this latitude? Muck Luck let sacred seal
get away. Now must either catch seal
or change name and never show face
in village again. Man, that would be awful... (STRAINING) Aah! Oof! ...for all of us. Don't worry. Muck Luck cat
ch seal
with special seal horn. (HORN HONKS) (BOTH GASP) MUCK LUCK: Oh, crud! I'd like
to help you, Muck Luck, but I've got problems
of my own. S'okay! Muck Luck got everything
under control. (SEAL BARKING) (GASPS) Sacred seal! (SEAL BARKING) Ah! Stop, seal! Oh, stop! JEAN CLAUDE:
Gangway, bunny! (YELPS) Oh, dear. Whoa! -(YODELING)
-Aah! (YELLS) (GRUMBLING) I'm having a problem
with this. From now on, trespassers
will be... Snow-coned! (YODELING) -Whee!
-Freeze, Jean Claude! Ha!
Try and make me!
(GASPS AND SCREAMS) (TREES CLATTER
LIKE BOWLING PINS) Hmm! It's a pink thing. (GROWLING) You idiot! You bowled me
into those trees! So what's your problem?
You got a strike! I told you to stay away
from my snow schussing. And I told you
to stay off my property! No, you didn't. Well, I meant to. In Eskimo village... We settle arguments
with big winter sport contest. Muck Luck! Did you catch
the sacred seal? No, Muck Luck taking
lunch break. Blubber, anyone? A contest, eh? Oui! Winner stays! (FR
ENCH ACCENT) Loser goes! Better go rent
your moving van, Pinky. (NORMAL ACCENT) Put your luge
where your mouth is,
slush for brains! (FLAG WHIPS AND CRACKS) (SEAL BARKING) (GRUNTS) Sacred seal! -Whoa!
-Oh, gosh! Whoa! Muck Luck! (SCREAMING) Whoa! Aah! Oof! This time,
Muck Luck won't miss. (SEAL BARKING) Whoa! (YELLING) (YODELING) ANNOUNCER:
And Jean Claude leads
after the luge event. (GRUMBLES) You! (WHISTLING) (CROWD CHEERING) (SEAL BARKING) Come here, seal!
Whoa! Aah! (SEAL BARKING) (SCREAMS
) Aah! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Aah! ANNOUNCER:
And after two events, Jean Claude
still holds the lead. (SNICKERING) Hey! Huh? (SPITS) (BARKING) MUCK LUCK: Sacred seal! ANNOUNCER:
And the Panther finally
gets on the scoreboard. Surrender, squirt! I'm ahead in the points. Then how about we make
this last event double or nothing? Ha! Bet you never jumped
from this high before. -(WIND GUSTING)
-Ha-ha! I've fallen
from higher than this! I want you off my mountain
in five minutes! (SEAL BARKI
NG) MUCK LUCK: Sacred seal! Oh, please, no! Whoa! Oh, crud! (CROWD CHEERING) (YODELING) A new record!
Beat that, you pink... Whoa! (BELL RINGING) (CROWD CHEERING) Here.
And don't lose him again. (HELICOPTER WHIRRING) Ah, yes. Solitude. (SEAL BARKING) Seal didn't come to village,
so village came to seal. And he won't
get away again! (HORNS BLOW) VILLAGERS: Oh, crud. PINK PANTHER:
Okay, guys,
stop this puck! (GROANS) (WHIMPERS) -Ahhh!
-(BUZZES) Not bad, Brillo you didn't even hide
your eyes that t
ime. MANAGER: What kind
of captain are you? This team stinks. You win tonight's game
against the Thug Suckers, or you're fired! (PLAYER GASPS) -(STEPS RUMBLING)
-Huh? -(ALL SNARLING)
-We can beat these guys. They're only human. Well, almost human. (ALL SCREAMING) Out of the way pink pants. There's a real
hockey team here. (EXCLAIMS) (GROANS) Whoops, you missed. -(CHUCKLES)
-(SNARLS) -Huh?
-(SNARLING) Whoa! (GRUNTS) -PINK PANTHER: Yes!
-(BUZZES) (CHUCKLES) (INDISTINCT TALKING) So he can skate. He
still needs a goalie. Goalie? Oh... I know the coolest dude
for the job. He's got ice water
in his veins, a frigid stare and he keeps my sodas cold. The mighty The Mighty Bucks
new goalie! Ha! Eh? (CHUCKLES) Goalie? This snow cone? (GASPS) (LAUGHING) When I get through,
you'll be able
to bite that guy back. (ZAPPING) Whoa! Slusho! Old buddy! Oh, happy day! Together again. Say, who are you exactly? I'm you're team captain,
you're my goalie. Ooh! Dream of dreams. What's a goalie? PINK PANTHER:
Al
l you have to do
is stop the puck. I think they look
nice on me. Can I wear them out to dinner? This gives new meaning
to the term "body-check." Hmm. We're gonna have to put
that snow cone on ice. (ALL SNARL) Ice sculptures. (CHUCKLES) Just what the doctor ordered. Oh! Whee! (LAUGHING) Ooh! (LAUGHS) Whee! (LAUGHS) THUG SUCKER: (ON SPEAKER)
Mr. Slusho, Mr. Slusho... Uh, please come
to the parking lot. You left your
car lights on. (EXCLAIMS) Oh, my (EXCLAIMS) car lights. Wait, Slusho. Uh, you
don't
even have a car. Oh. They said I left my lights on. But on what? The love doctor is in. (IMITATING WOMAN'S VOICE)
Dear Slusho! Oh, Slusho! -(EXCLAIMS)
-Ooh! Whee! Ooh! (CHUCKLES) She could melt the ice
right off a snow man. Hello! Would you like
to slalom sometime? Sorry snowball,
little Cubette
has places to go. Cubette! (SOBBING) Cubette? I think Slusho
is getting snowed. (EXCLAIMS) SLUSHO: Come back! My little Cubette! (CHUCKLES) That's right,
slush for brains, keep following the ice q
ueen. Uh, hold on Cubette! I'll save you
from that, uh, brute! (IMITATING WOMAN'S VOICE)
Eh, Slusho, help! (EXCLAIMS) Oh! Something tells me
Slusho doesn't have his mind
on our hockey game. Oh, be brave,
my little snowflake, Slusho is here. Shake your body
you little icicle, -freezer face!
-Oh! -(SPLASHING)
-(EXCLAIMS) (ELECTRICAL CRACKLING) Slusho, the hockey game
starts in a few minutes. Oh! Who can thinks about pucks
at a time like this? I guess this means
you lose the big game. (LAUGHING) (C
RACKLING) I'm crushed ice! My Cubette's in the tank. So is my hockey career. (CRACKLING) Oh! I'm gonna stand out
in the sun and end it all. Wait, the game ain't over
until it's over, buddy. Oh? I never thought
of it that way. He's so smart. This'll jump start
their romance. (SPLASHING) (CRACKLING) (ZAPPING) Say, good looking, did I give you a hot flash, or are you just melting? Oh... You can't melt until
the hockey game's over. Come on! (CROWD CHEERING) (ORGAN PLAYING) The game starts in 30 seco
nds. I'm gonna fry that panther! (CROWD CHEERING INTENSIFIES) (GRUNTING) (BLOWS WHISTLE) ANNOUNCER: (ON SPEAKER)
Panther scores! Mighty Pucks, one,
Thug Suckers, nothing. (GROANS) Ice 'em boys! (CROWD CHEERING) Oh. I love a man who can hold on to his puck. (CHUCKLES) Ahhh! -(CROWD CHEERS)
-(BUZZES) And the Mighty Pucks
score again! (ENGINE STARTS) Huh?
Whoa! Oh! -(FIRING)
-(LAUGHING) Eh? -(CROWD CHEERING)
-Whee! (LAUGHS) -Ooh.
-(GROANS) (GRUNTING) This game ain't over! It's not over till it
's over, I learnt that just today. CROWD: (APPLAUDING)
Slusho, Slusho,
Slusho, Slusho! Oh, yes. (CHUCKLING) For me? (CHUCKLING) Ooh, thank you. Oh, yes. (LAUGHS) (GROANS) Oh, ho. I feel all watery,
maybe it's love. Slusho, get out
of that spotlight! -(BUZZER BUZZES)
-ANNOUNCER:No!
It's the Mighty Pucks, two, Thug Suckers, one. (GRUNTS) Whoa! -(BUZZER BUZZES) -Make that
Mighty Pucks, two, Thug Suckers, two. We have a tie game. Don't you dare hurt
one ice chip on my Slusho's empty head. Ahhh!
(GROANS) Thug Sucker puck
in the side pocket. (PUCK RICOCHETING) (GROANS) (BUZZES) Yes! The Mighty Pucks win
at the buzzer, three to two. (CROWD CHEERING) Panther! You've just won the big game and saved your job. What're you gonna do next? (IMITATING SLUSHO) Ooh, I wanna get a snow cone. (EXCLAIMS) PINK PANTHER:
Come on, baldy. Uh, Mr. La Bamba, uh, just give me a shot. Look, kid,
I told you's, we got a pitcher. Or maybe you's
never heard of... Rex Deball. -(THUMP)
-(MAN SCREAMING) -(CRASHI
NG)
-(GROANING) Of course, we're always
on the lookout
for fresh talent. Okay, kid,
show us your stuff. Uh, excuse me. That's your stuff? Huh, we've known little kids
with stomach flu who hurl farther than that,
eh, Spalding? Readyo, Rex.
(GIGGLES) Face it, kid, when you stink, you stink. Mr. La Bamba,
I really want
a spot on the team, worse than you can imagine. Hmm, okay. I got just the job for you's. (CROWD BOOING) Well,
at least I made the team. You call that making the team? Giving our mang
y mascot
his daily flea dip? I guess you could say
he's a flea agent,
eh, Spalding? (LAUGHS) Ah, ignore him, dink.
He's just a guy
who talks to baseballs. Yikes, oops. Whoa, whoa. Whoa, whoa. Holy Toledo. Can you do that again? Only this time with a baseball
and not through my hat? But I don't know how I... Whoa, yikes. Oops! Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa! And it's foul. I refer, of course, to the pitching
of Rex Deball. But wait, what's this? Baldy La Bamba
is bringing in
a relief pitcher. Oh, that is
a relief
in itself. Rex, you're finished. Oh, coach. Okay. Kid,
this is your big break. Let's see some grit,
some mental toughness, some heart. And then strike
the lousy bum out. Yikes, Oops. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa. ANNOUNCER:
Whoa, what a pitch! Where did the Mutts
find this kid? Oops. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa. (SIZZLING) You're out. (CROWD CHEERING) Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. ANNOUNCER:
The score is tied, a hit by Rex Deball
can win it right here. Uh, here's the pitch. -You're out.
-Struck
him out. Now the pink kid
steps up to the plate. The pitch is on its way. Yikes! Oh, yeah, yeah. ANNOUNCER:
And the kid connects. The Pink kid
has rallied the Mutts to their first
ever victory. How about them Mutts? Steal my glory, will he? I think not. Why, Rex Deball, ha ha. Are you being a poor sport? Uh, shut up Spalding. I wasn't talking to you. ANNOUNCER: Greetings
from Mutts Stadium, where once again
the visiting team is positively powerless against Pink's prodigious
pitc
hing prowess. Ball, please. Sure thing, pal. Whaa! That does it! Now we're gonna have
to play dirty. ANNOUNCER:
Mutts enter World Series, pitching superstar to visit ailing kid fan. Are you (CHUCKLES)
Little Elmo? PINK PANTHER: Yoo-hoo! Little Elmo? Uh, are you...
(WHEEZING AND COUGHING) ...the Pink kid? The one and only, my lad. Aw!
I was hoping for Rex Deball, but I guess you'll do. Elmo? You know the Mutts
are in the World Series? Hey, I may be sick,
but I'm not stupid. Well, I'm gonna
win
the Series, and I'm gonna win it for you,
Little Elmo. And that's not all. You know
that special treatment you need to correct your lisp? Special treatment? Well, I'm gonna pay for it. And here are
the doctors now. Wait, Sing a Song of Sixpence. See? I'm cured, see? It's okay, it's a miracle. No! Ah! No, no. You think the coach
will let me play today? BALDY:
Don't let me down, kid. It's the final game
of the Series and I can practically taste
that trophy. It tastes like metal with some writing
on it. Mmm-hmm. Okay, Dink,
time to play ball. So, that's your secret. Let's see how you pitch without that itch. It's the last game
of the World Series folks, and the Pink kid
is pitching for the Mutts. (CROWD CHEERING) MAN:
We love you, kid. WOMAN:
You are the greatest. No flea can withstand the power of flea magnetism. Right, Spalding? Huh? Huh? ANNOUNCER: Oh, no. Something's
wrong with the kid. Baldy La Bamba has no choice
but to take the kid out and put Rex Deball
in the game. Your pi
tching days
are over, pal. You and your mutt
are finished. We've been itching
for this moment,
right, Rexie? Rightyo, Spalding. Itching? Dink, the flea,
it's fled. You haven't got it,
have you? My flea. Ah-ha. Uh-oh. (CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY) Kid, get your carcass
out there, you're up next. Score tied, bases loaded
with two outs. The Pink kid's pitching
has gone the park. But can he still hit
the long ball? Here's the delivery, strike one. Strike two. Oh, man. ANNOUNCER: He swings. Hooky s
mokes,
look at that ball go. Incredible. The Muttville Mutts
win the World Series. (CROWD CHEERING) WOMAN:
Oh, oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh. Well, I guess
it's the showers
for us, Spalding. Well, Dink,
I may have lost my flea, but I still swing
a mean piece of number. (DOG BARKING) -(TIRES SCREECH)
-Yes! My patented
three bank shot. (SNAPS) Happy-happy birthday, Mama,
X-X-O-O. Love, Johnny. I'm sending you
a present for your birthday. I love you, Mama. -(CROWD CHEERING)
-(MARCHING BAND PLAYING
) (GROWLING)
But I hate (ECHOING)
football! Every year
those scum buzzards have the big game
on your birthday. But not this year,
Buster Brown. No, no. Nay, nay. Uh-uh. No. (LAUGHING)
Ball-y. JOHNNY: How about
a little foot-gumball? Hello, pretty colors.
Hi, hi, hi. (LAUGHING) When Johnny's big
gum bomb goes off, buddy, game's over! Por fin. Seven years
to digest it, pal. (CLOCK TICKING) (SIGHS) (EXCLAIMING) Yo, blue boy.
(LAUGHS) Excuse me, my fine man.
I've got a special present
here for my ma
ma. Not to worry, citizen. Nothing will stop the mail. I am a professional. Whoops! And now to see
that football season
starts off with a bang. (LAUGHS) Uh-oh.
Don't step on the crack,
don't step on the crack. Uh? (SCREAMS) -(WHISTLING)
-Yo, heads up! Incoming gum bomb. (SCREAMS) -(WOBBLES)
-(SINGING)
♪ It's your birthday ♪ It's your stupid birthday
Yeah, it's your birthday
Boy, you're really old ♪ (SPITS) Nice breath, clown boy. No. Oh, no! I've mailed
the bomb to Mom. I gotta get
that pack
age back. Return to sender, baby. -(BEEPING) -(MAN ON PA)
Calling postal person
Panther. Be on the lookout for
Johnny Chucklehead. He's suspected of
double-licking his stamps and impersonating
an envelope. Mr. Chucklehead won't get
anything past me, sir. You can count on it. Ooh, my little baby.
Hi. Hold on. Hello, my little... Baby. Hello, my baby. Hello.
Oh, cha-ching, buddy. -(GROANING)
-(EXCLAIMS) Trying to tamper with
the mail, were you? Oh, hi. (CHUCKLES)
Glad I caught you, babe,
y
ou look super. Look, I need to get
that little package back 'cause there's been
a terrible mistake. Hold it! You're in violation of
code 4308-2. "Participating in
post parcel pandemonium "perpetuated on
postal personnel," period. (GROANING) (HOWLING) I'll get you.
(HOWLING) (GIGGLING) Yeah, the old weather master
XJ 9 oughta put a pink kink in your tail,
buddy boy. (EXCLAIMING) -Help!
-(BEEPING) Postal person Panther. You're not letting a little
rain interfere with your mail
delivery, are yo
u? Of course not. (EXCLAIMS) He's getting away. (GROWLS)
I don't like this. A little snow oughta frost
your pumpkin, pony boy. Yoink! JOHNNY: Hey! Hey! (EXCLAIMS) Talk about a snow job. (SCREAMS) (SHIVERING) (GRUNTS) Time to call in
the professionals. (DOGS BARKING) (LAUGHING EXCITEDLY) (DOGS BARKING) (EXCLAIMS) (AIR WHOOSHING) Oh, yeah!
This, this is going to be bad.
I have an instinct. (EXCLAIMS)
Oh, fire hydrant on my head.
Dogs coming. Not a good thing. (EXCLAIMS)
This is wrong. -Get off of
me.
Hey stop that.
-(DOGS CONTINUE BARKING) Come on guys,
I don't have any medical. Go! (BLOWS) Never mess with
a postal worker. Hey, Mama will help me.
Mama will clean me. G-gone to Miami? Without me?
Sh-she doesn't love me. (CRYING) But she will, after I stop football
on her birthday. And I'll let him do
my dirty work for me. (DOOR OPENS) -Special delivery...
-Super, gre-great super. Thanks buddy, just a second. I've got
another package for you. (GRUNTING) Needs some stampage.
Stampage, stampa
ge. I need this delivered to
the stadium right away. It-it's the game ball. Uh... Why do you have
the game ball? Oh, I make them.
(CHUCKLES) Somebody has to make them. See, here's
the ball for next week.
(CHUCKLES) It's not finished yet.
Say hello to Kevin. (GRUNTS AND SQUEALS) (MARCHING BAND PLAYING) Game ball delivery. Put it on the x-ray conveyor. (ELECTRONIC WHISTLING) (ALARM BLARING) Hey, that's a bomb. Hey, what do you got
in your pockets huh? (KEYS JINGLE) There's more than
one way to col
lect the mail. (MARCHING BAND PLAYING) Hey, that was easy. -(RUMBLING)
-Huh? -(BEEPING)
-Postal person Panther. Have you delivered
all your parcels promptly? Um... Working on it, sir. (GRUNTING) (GRUNTING) Tennis, anyone?
(EXCLAIMS) (GRUNTING) -(CROWD CHEERING)
-(HORN BLOWING) Panther one, bone-head zip. -(THUMPING)
-(EXCLAIMS) -(THUD)
-(SCREAMING) I hate it when I get cocky. (SNAPS) 35... 54... Extra-large... Um... Hike. Tag. You're it. (GRUNTING) (SQUEAKING) You know, I've always been
an at
hletic supporter. (EXCLAIMING) (GROANS) Touch... Down.
Oh... (CLOCK TICKING) Yikes!
Bomb's away! Happy birthday, Mama.
Oceans of love now.
(CHUCKLES) -(AIR WHOOSHING)
-I hope this
finds you in Miami. Huh? (GROANS)
(EXCLAIMS) -(CLOCK TICKING)
-Hey, that's my football. Why, I-I-I...
Oh, boy... (SCREAMS) Where's our football? -(JINGLING)
-(VARIOUS ANIMAL SOUNDS) Hey, look over there. He's got your ball. -(SCREAMS)
-(GRUNTING) -(SCREAMING)
-(GRUNTING) (EXCLAIMS) Help, I've been blindsided. (CLOCK TI
CKING) (WHIMPERS) (CHOKING) (GROWLING) Whoa! (BOTH GROANING) -(BEEPING)
-Postal person Panther. You're out of uniform. Sorry, Chief. But I'm having
some minor problems. (CLOCK TICKING) (GASPS) Yeah! Now try to find
the bomb, little Mr. Mail Boy. (CHUCKLING)
I love this part. (EXCLAIMING) Whoa! Fetch, boys! (LASER FIRING) Eeny, meeny, miney, moe,
catch an explosive by the... -(CLOCK TICKING)
-Ticking clock! Yikes! So witness. (CHUCKLES)
A few more seconds... -And it's bubblegum
blast off buddy.
..
-(CLOCK TICKING) Well, the word "oops"
leaps to mind.
(CHUCKLES) (EXPLOSION) (PINK PANTHER THEME
PLAYING) Mr. Chucklehead.
You failed to put proper
postage on this package. I'm returning it for
postage due. (SINGING)
♪ It's your birthday
It's your stupid birthday ♪ It's your birthday
Boy, you're really old ♪ (SPITTING) Get off me, clown! Think about a day job. (GRUNTS) DIRECTOR: Listen up, wannabes. In order to become
Beefy Barbarian, you've got to be
buff, tough... -(GROWLING)
-(BOTH GRUN
T) ...and desperate
to get on TV. The rules are simple. Beat the reigning champion
Attila the Killa in a sudden-death
obstacle course. (GROWLING) If you win, you become
the new Beefy Barbarian. If you lose, we'll notify
your next of kin. So, who wants to put
their life on the line for a TV show? ALL: Ooh, me, me, me!
Me, me, me! Okay, I want you, you,
you, and you. Ah! Hey, what about me? (LAUGHING) I've seen veggie platters
with more meat on 'em. Oh, yeah? Brains will beat brawn
any day, and th
is guy's
no rocket scientist. Hey, was that an insult? (GROANING) (GRUNTS) Next! (CLATTERING) Hmph! Hey, Attila! Yeah, you! Let me see you try that
again, pal! (PUNCHING, SCREAMING) (CRASHES) (THUD) (GRUMBLING) All right,
so you got lucky. Take th-aa-at! -(CLATTERING)
-MAN: Man, you stink! It's the garbage. No, I mean your style. If you want to beat
Beefy Barbarian, you need me, to train ya! (SNIFFING) A bath wouldn't hurt,
either. I don't need a trainer.
I can outsmart Attila. Ah, he'll eat you
for breakfast and still have room
for flapjacks! I know.
I trained him. Then why do you
want to train me? Ah, the bum dumped me when he became
a hotshot TV star. Besides, I'd love
the challenge of taking
a pink bag of bones and turning 'em into
a Beefy Barbarian. Was that an insult? Darn tootin' it was. -(DOG BARKING)
-(CAT YOWLING) The most important part
of athletic conditioning is stretching. Peak performance comes
from being loose. Whoa! I felt that.
Yaaai! Uh-huh, yeah.
I'm feeling pretty
loose. Really, I am! Hey, you're not even
halfway to limber. You need more
dynamic tension. (STRAINED) I got all
the tension I need
right now, thanks! (GROANS AND YELLS) I hope I'm cleared
for take-off! Whoa! Aah! (CRASHING) Gimme a pull-up! (GROANING) (PANTING)
How was that? Terrible. So, while I set up
your training table, do 999 more. Ah! (HUMMING) The best way to bulk up is through exercise
and eating right. Now, what do you like
on your deep-fried hoagie? Mayonnaise, mustard,
lard. The usua
l. (SIGHS) Thank you. Hey, no cheating
in my gym! When you cheat,
you only hurt yourself... (STRAINING) Yiii! -(GRUNTS)
-Aah! (CRASHING) ...and sometimes
your trainer. This'll tell us what kind
of shape you're really in. (WHIRRING) Faster! Faster! Good! Now, keep that up
'til I get back. (WHIRRING) (HUMMING) (CHAINSAW BUZZING) Oh! Oi!
(PANICKING) (YELLS) Hey... That... Hurts! No pain, no gain. Whoa-oh! I am starting to look
rather buff. The only thing buff
about you is your tail. We've got one l
ast
desperate hope. It's a car wash. Used to be.
Now it's "the Bufferator". Builds your pecs, lats,
triceps, biceps, and abs all at once. What, no hot wax? (WHIRRING) Huh? Aah! (SPUTTERING) (GRUNTING) How was it? Anybody ever make it
out of that thing alive? (GROANING) (THUD) Whoa! (YELLS IN SURPRISE) Whoo! (GASPS AND YELLS) Ahh! It's working! You're a sculptured Adonis. You're the Panthenator. DIRECTOR: Let's have
a big barbarian cheer for today's contestant,
the Panthenator! CROWD: (CHEERIN
G)
Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah! So, we meet again,
you backstabbing, double-crossing,
good-for-nothing bum! Hey, are you
one of my fans? You don't know me? I made you what you are! Mom? Coach!
I was your coach! (SCRATCHING) Okay, barbarians,
take your marks! Hey, you may look
all muscle-y wussle-y, but underneath,
you're still a pipsqueak, you know what I'm saying? Whoa! Oh, boo. DIRECTOR: Get ready... -Set...
-(GROWLING) -(GROWLING)
-Go! -Yeow! Oof!
-(THUD) You're going down,
Panthenator. (LA
UGHS) (GROANING) I knew we should have
trained harder. (CROWD CHEERING) And Attila heads into
the rope-a-dope well ahead of
the Panthenator. -Huh?
-(BUBBLING) (CROWD CHEERING) (LAUGHING) Here you go. Catch, okay? (YELPING) It's a one-barbarian race as Attila reaches
cannonball-istic run! (CLANGING) Whoa! (YELPS) Hey. Hey, batter, batter,
batter, batter. Swing! The Pinkster shoots! He scores!
Okay, eh? Ooh! Bad break
for the Panthenator. Blasted Attila right into
our final event. It l
ooks like
Attila the Killa will remain
Beefy Barbarian! Don't give up, kid.
Come on. Go get him! Whoa! Wait! The challenger
isn't out of it yet! CROWD: Panthenator! (CROWD CHEERING) You're mine,
meat for brains. You pile of fluff,
I'll pulverize ya! Neither contestant
wants to fall here or they'll end up in
the dreaded poodle pit. -Huh?
-(BARKING) Who dreams up
these dumb games? Whoa! (TIRE SQUEALS) PINK PANTHER: Yo, Attila! Hey, how do you do that? You don't have time
to hear about it.
It's a long "tail." -(THUD)
-(DOGS BARKING AND GROWLING) (CROWD CHEERING) Incredible! This pink cream puff is
our new Beefy Barbarian! I have you to thank,
Coach. Nah, you were right,
ya bum! Using your tail
was using your head. Brains beat brawn
after all. ATTILA: Whoa!
Nice fluffy dogs! Aah! Hasta la vista, Attila!
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