NARRATOR". A sunny Wednesday morning in Gotham City.
The sort of Wednesday that makes you wish it were Sunday.
And at Gotham City City Hall...
a stream of tourists wend their way in...
to see the curios and trophies on permanent display.
And this, ladies and gentlemen...
is the original charter of Gotham City.
And due to its excessive age and delicate condition...
it has been sealed in this guaranteed burglar-proof display case...
which has been vacuum sealed to protect such a valuable document.
Oh, guide, are you absolutely certain it's burglar-proof?
Absolutely.
And now, if you step this way, please.
Your eggspert has much to learn.
No material can resist my incomparable eggsplosives.
And now, let us make our eggsit.
Impossible. That a criminal could march in...
and purloin Gotham City's most priceless possession right under our nostrils?
But why, commissioner? That's what I can't figure out.
Nor can I, O'Hara, nor can I. What did the witnesses say?
Oh, there's no doubt about it. His description.
- It was Egghead, all right. - The rottenest egg of them all.
Any suggestions, O'Hara?
Well, it isn't so bad facing thieves, murderers, run-of-the-mill crooks, but...
I know it seems we call on the Caped Crusader pretty often.
There's no other way to handle it.
NARRATOR". And in stately Wayne Manor, home of millionaire Bruce Wayne...
and his youthful ward Dick Grayson:
If you'll hold the line a moment, sir...
I will gain his attention for you.
You see, Dick, many years ago...
Gotham City was founded by three families who landed at Gotham Rock.
- The Savages, the Tylers and the Waynes. - Right.
The original land was leased from the Mohican Indians...
for the price of nine raccoon pelts.
Wow, what a deal that was.
Every five years, the lease has to be renewed.
The city charter is very specific about honoring that debt.
Tonight is the night to make payment, so Pete Savage, Tim Tyler and I...
the descendants of the original settlers, have to deliver three raccoon pelts each...
to Chief Screaming Chicken in order to fulfill the obligation.
Gosh, where did you get the pelts?
I had to buy a whole raccoon coat from a very popular crooner of the 1920s...
who'd fallen on hard times.
Had to pay a pretty price for it too.
This one's held up very well for a raccoon.
A matter of grave importance has arisen.
Your attention would be appreciated.
A contract to be, ahem, read.
- I will take care of it immediately, Alfred. - I'll go with you, Bruce.
Honestly, Alfred, those two are so busy.
I'll wager Batman and Robin don't get around as much as Bruce and Dick.
I, uh... I rather doubt that, madam.
- Yes, commissioner. - Dire news, Batman.
Egghead is back with a carton full of crime.
We'll be right there.
To the Batpoles.
Why go to all that trouble to steal the city charter?
Who knows what evil lurks.
He's a tough egg, Batman, the smartest man in the world.
The second-smartest man in the world.
Present company excepted, of course.
He's assuredly the smartest villain we've ever faced.
Any evidence left at the scene of the crime?
None, Boy Wonder. Frankly, we're stumped.
The Gotham City Charter.
What does it say?
Aside from its constitutional edicts...
its purpose is to act as a treaty between the Mohican Indians and the founders.
Holy Bill of Rights.
Maybe Egghead wants to start a war between the Gotham City citizens and the Indians.
I rather doubt it, Robin.
There's only one Indian left.
He'd be outnumbered ten million to one.
I think it has something to do with the leasing conditions.
That probably means Egghead will make a deal...
with Peter Savage, Tim Tyler or Bruce Wayne.
Egghead does not make deals.
Oh, where is Peter Savage now?
Undoubtedly at his home here in Gotham City.
He spends most of his time in Paris.
He's something of a bon vivant and patron of the arts.
But he's always here for the Raccoon Ceremony and to distribute the pelts.
And I think I know where Tim Tyler is.
Probably at Tyler Stadium, watching his team play baseball against the Pets.
That leaves only Bruce Wayne.
I, uh, wonder where he is.
Unquestionably, out doing something inconsequential...
with his youthful ward, Dick Grayson.
You know how those millionaire playboys are.
- Let's go, Robin. - Where to?
To the teepee of Screaming Chicken, last of the Mohicans.
NARRATOR". Meanwhile, behind the doors of an apparently legitimate import firm:
Eggscellent.
I might even go so far as to say eggsquisite.
What you got in mind, boss?
This just looks like some old piece of paper.
That's because you have no foresight, Benedict.
Not everybody is as smart as you are, Egghead.
Not anybody is as smart as I am, Foo Yung. Ha, ha.
Please, don't talk so fast.
What's she following us around for all the time?
I don't like dames on capers.
Fortunately, not everyone thinks like that, Mr. Benedict.
Hi, Eggybaby.
Please, it's Mr. Egghead before other people, not Eggybaby.
My eggsecutive secretary, Miss Bacon, is taking down my every thought.
That way posterity will have on record...
the working of the most brilliant criminal mind of all time.
If I do say so myself.
You gonna publish a book?
Well, now, let us eggsamine this more carefully, huh?
There must be a loophole in this charter...
that will enable me to eggstort control of the city.
Here it is. Look at that, my rotten eggs.
"Whereas, and to wit..."
if the price of nine raccoon pelts is not paid to the Mohican representative...
by the descendants of the Savage, Tyler and Wayne families...
and whereas, if it is not paid on time...
said land will revert back to its original owners...
"and/or their legal representatives."
Oh, we've got them this time. We've caught them with their eggs post facto down.
- What's he talking about? - Search me.
- A little slower, please. My fingers hurt. - Eh, mm?
Don't you know who the representative of the Mohicans is?
Oh, you mean that little guy that's got the blanket concession out on the highway?
Eggsactly.
Chief Screaming Chicken...
the last of the Mohicans.
- How? - What?
- When? - Where?
You, you are only person in Gotham City who know traditional Mohican greeting.
I've long been a student of your tribal customs, Chief Screaming Chicken.
What you want with Screaming Chicken?
Tonight's the night when you receive payment on the Gotham City lease renewal.
Me think price too low for Gotham City.
Nine raccoon pelts, cost of living go up and up.
Me want 12 raccoon pelts.
The contract was for nine.
Indian poor businessman.
My cousin, oh... He sell Manhattan for 24 dollars.
Could have got 35.
Be that as it may, Chief Screaming Chicken...
I'm here to make sure you're present at the ceremonies tonight.
It's imperative that you attend.
Absolutely.
Thank you.
Ciao, Chief.
A magnificent eggshibition, Chief Screaming Chicken.
When I'm done with you, you will be able to eggsercise your most eggstravagant desires.
If you give me an eggsclusive lease on Gotham City.
Me no give you lease, not until tonight.
Me honor-bound, if paid nine raccoon pelt.
- And if not? - Me deal with highest bidder.
But don't worry, they pay me pelts. They always do, it is tradition.
Ah, but tonight, one of those men won't show up...
and then the lease will eggspire.
You make mighty big talk, kemosabe.
Kemosabe?
I thought I heard just about everything but.
- Yeah, Screaming, what's that mean? - Me no know.
Me hear it once on radio. Very old word.
It's no use, Robin.
Not a single new egg company has opened in Gotham City in the last few weeks.
I can't understand.
That's his usual modus operandi.
Egghead always has his hideout associated with some sort of egg outfit.
Obviously, he's changed his way of thinking...
and if that's not enough, he's probably changed the way he...
Oh, well, that's it. Of course.
What kind of company sells eggs that you can't fry, scramble or boil?
- A fish egg company. - Right, Robin. Let's see what that brings.
Look at this.
A new egg firm has just opened on Point View Street.
"The Ghoti Oeufs Caviar Company."
"Oeuf" means "eggs" in French, but I don't get this other word at all.
The word is "fish," Robin.
- "Ghoti" is "fish"? - See here, English phonetics.
G-H becomes F...
as in "tough" or "laugh."
O becomes I as in "women."
T-I becomes S-H...
as in "ration" or the word "nation."
Holy semantics, Batman, you never cease to amaze me.
No time for compliments now, Robin. We must thwart some criminals.
To the Batmobile.
Oh, you're making a fine deal, Chief Screaming Chicken.
One hundred dollars a month for life and all the eggs you can eat.
Me 60 years old now.
Me need them pension.
You 60? I hope I look that good when I'm 60.
Well, I have great eggspectations for our relationship, chief.
I tell you what I'll give you as an added bonus:
You may have the import-eggsport concession...
for all genuine American Indian blankets made in Japan.
Oh, heh.
You are one heck of fine pale face. Mm. Yeah.
- You no Indian giver? - Oh, no.
Eggybaby never gave an Indian anything.
Well, I for one am eggshausted.
It's been a trying day, and I must rest my fantastic brain for tonight.
There'll be no rest for the wicked today, Egghead.
Boy, do you guys have egg on your faces.
All the king's horses and all the king's men won't be able to put you together again.
Oh, Batman, you're so lyrical.
Well, that's enough eggsercise for one day, Batman.
You no stop, me give Boy Wonder very short haircut.
You, Chicken, turn chicken?
Have you joined the enemy camp as well?
This is an acid egg, Batman.
One move and I'll drop it on Robin's head.
Nobody could be that rotten.
Don't tempt me.
Ow!
You put all your eggs in one basket, Egghead, a fatal mistake.
Prepare yourself for an eggspeditious defeat.
- That's very apt, Robin. - Oh, glad you liked it.
Well, see how you like this.
- What is it, Batman? - I don't know.
Whatever it is, it's awfully funny.
The yolk's on them, it's laughing gas.
Ha, ha! It's the funniest trick anyone's ever pulled on us.
- Yes. - Ha-ha-ha!
It's even funnier than the Joker.
I can't stop laughing.
And you won't, not until the gas wears off.
- Let's go, boss, before we start laughing too. - An eggscellent idea.
- Let's go after them. - No, no, no.
Not now, old chum.
In our condition, it won't do us any good.
Here, here.
Here, take this.
It's a sad pill to neutralize the laughing gas. Ha-ha-ha!
It'll clear our minds.
Well, he may have won the first round...
but we're going to fight fire with fire.
Robin...
we'll never beat Egghead with brute strength.
We must... We must out-think him.
That poor, misguided redskin, Chief Screaming Chicken...
is obviously under Eggheads influence.
Therefore, it stands to reason...
that the lease to Gotham City must be close to being in Egghead's greedy hands.
How do we stop it from happening?
Egghead must prevent either one or all three of the millionaires...
from delivering their pelts in order to break the lease.
- Shall I call Tim Tyler and Pete Savage? - I'll do it.
The machine is attuned to Bruce Wayne's voice. Klondike 57589, please.
Gosh, Batman, I've never seen you use a telephone directory.
- How do you remember all those numbers? - Elementary, my dear Robin.
I simply transpose the numbers into letters.
For example, Pete Savage's number is the name of a girl that he and I used to date.
Holy IT&T.
Hello?
Hello, Pete, Bruce Wayne here.
I'm calling to see whether you'll be attending the anniversary celebration tonight.
It's the Raccoon Ceremony, you know.
Certainement, I'll be there. You're grand marshal this year, aren't you?
Heh, yes, it should be fun. It's nice to have you back in town, Pete.
Be it ever so humble, there is no place like Gotham City.
Au revoir, Pete.
Very good, Mr. Savage.
Everything sounds good there, let's try Tim Tyler.
Quentin 65701, please.
You can't make a word out of that one because of the one and the zero.
Things don't always work out like we want them to.
When that happens, I simply depend on my well-developed memory.
When was the last time you called that number?
- Yesterday. - Sally, you're a whiz, Batman.
- Tim Tyler speaking. - Hello, Tim, this is Bruce Wayne.
Bruce, how are you?
- Are you attending the ceremony tonight? - Wouldn't miss it if it meant my life.
- Oh, that's swell. See you there. - Right.
You demonstrated uneggspected good sense, Mr. Tyler.
What do you want from me, Egghead?
I am just a poor major-league baseball team owner.
How about season tickets? I love halfbacks.
How eggsasperating.
Oh, what a beautiful night.
Mercy alive, do we look sharp?
Have a good time, boys.
And don't stay out too late, you know how I worry.
I wonder where our official escort is.
- Dick, do you have the pelts? - Here they are.
But I doubt if Chief Screaming Chicken will be there to claim them.
Not after all he's done.
Still, we must live up to our part of the bargain and deliver nine pelts before midnight.
I'll never understand why Chief Screaming Chicken decided to put in with Egghead.
He told me once that he worked for a while as a bottle washer.
He had an argument with a boss who told him to go back to his own country.
- But this is his country. - Ha-ha-ha.
Exactly.
And you wonder why Chief Screaming Chicken is dissatisfied.
- Your escort, sir. - Thank you, Alfred.
- So they got you too. - What do you mean?
This is a trap, Bruce. Egghead is driving this limousine.
And we walked right into it.
We can always get out.
- There's no handle on this door. - That's correct.
So get ready for an eggsotic eggsperience.
There are several reasons why I called this meeting, gentlemen...
aside from the obvious one of keeping you all from the anniversary ceremonies...
when Chief Screaming Chicken appears to collect his raccoon pelts.
It has occurred to me that one of you is Batman.
- How exciting. - Yes, you see this fiendish machine?
Well, it's one of my own inventions.
For lack of another name for it, I call it an electro thought transferor.
It sucks every shred of information...
from the mind of the person sitting under that apparatus...
and places it in the brain of the one under this one.
- How ugly. - How disgusting.
How eggshilarating.
Long ago, my superior intellect deduced that Batman must be a person...
who was a millionaire and didn't have to work...
because crime-fighting is such an eggspensive hobby.
- Which one is it, Eggybaby, hmm? - Please, please, Miss Bacon.
All of you are approximately the right age, in your early 30s...
but I have eliminated you, Mr. Tyler, because you are left-handed.
No, the Caped Crusader is not a port-sider.
And you, Mr. Savage, are out because of your accent.
So aside from a couple of aging rock 'n' roll singers...
you, Mr. Wayne, are the only Gotham City millionaire...
who is athletically inclined with eggsessive agility.
Therefore, you must be Batman.
You realize this is all a waste of time.
Not at all, Mr. Wayne.
My machine has a rather eggscentric and ugly side effect.
In removing all of the knowledge from your brain...
it will leave you an empty-headed fop.
There's no use struggling, Mr. Wayne...
you're being held there by an electromagnetic force.
I'm leaving. Things like this give me a headache.
All right, Benedict, turn on the machine.
It will take a moment or two to warm up...
and then we shall see if my eggseptional logistics are correct.
But even if I'm wrong about your being Batman, Mr. Wayne...
your brain will be utterly destroyed.