[music playing]
THEME SONG: Toxic Crusaders!
Toxic Crusaders!
I had no friends, no girls would hug
me til I got radioactive ugly!
Toxic Crusaders!
I live in a dump cause the rent's real low.
Got a little pet, Blobbie, and he loves me so!
Toxic Crusaders!
Now me and the boys fight against wrong!
Though we're hideously deformed!
Hey, I'm sittin' on top of the world, with my mop,
to do [inaudible].
Wow!
Toxic Crusaders!
Toxic!
NARRATOR: Instead of the usual toxic dump opening,
this story starts in Dr. Killemoff's penthouse on Island
City, only this time Czar Zosta, the ruler of Smogula,
was there to help him.
Killemoff, our Smogulan scientists
have discovered a huge pool of high smogtane crude
right here in Tromaville.
What spendid news, your plumpness.
Yes, it's a regular mother of a mother lode.
Before this, our spacehsips had no way
of refueling for the long trip back to the planet Smogula.
But now we can start a massive shuttle service
and transport all of our citizens here to Tromavilla.
Excellent thinking, sir.
And where is this reservoir of smogtane fuel?
Right here.
The toxic waste dump?
But that's where the Toxic Crusaders live!
I want you to construct a pumping station on the side
and start the flow of smogtane fuel ASAP.
I don't know, Czar Zosta.
What if the Toxic Crusaders refuse to move?
What's with this guy?
He's always making those predictions.
Just ignore him.
I will ignore him!
Now get to work, and don't bother me with details.
Just do it!
Yes, your czarship.
Right away, sir.
Bonehead, round up the Radiation Rangers
for a special assignment.
It won't be easy, boss.
They're off getting their batteries charged.
May I?
Oh, be my guest.
Don't bother me with details!
Just do it!
NARRATOR: Meanwhile, back at the dump,
us Toxic Crusaders were leaping into the age of electronics.
Isn't this exciting?
I bet we're the only guys in the world who live in a toxic waste
dump and have cable TV.
Ah, yeah.
The best of both worlds.
How's the picture now, Headbanger?
Aw, we're getting nothing but snow.
Snow?
Way cool.
I love skiing.
I think the vertical needs adjusted.
Wrong, No-Zone.
It's the horizontal.
I say vertical!
And I say horizontal!
[crash]
Well, Thunder, still seeing snow?
No.
Stars.
Uh-oh.
My tromatons are starting to quiver.
That means trouble.
Radiation Rangers!
Yo, Toxic Crusaders!
I brought your eviction papers.
Open fire!
Wow.
This isn't good.
OK, Blobbie.
Do your thing!
[howling]
I hate the Toxic Crusaders!
[phone ringing]
Mayor Grody's office.
I'm sorry, but the mayor has his hands full.
Never mind that!
Tell him it's Dr. Killemoff calling!
Oh!
Yes, Killemoff?
What can I do for you?
That's Dr. Killemoff!
And you can do what Bonehead failed at,
and evict the Toxic Crusaders from their dump site!
But they've got a 90 year lease.
Don't bother me with details.
Just do it.
What's wrong, sugar?
I've got to get those Toxic Crusaders off that property.
But how?
I need an evil and despicable scheme
to trick those stupid crustaceans out of that dump.
And you're just despicable enough to do it.
NARRATOR: Mayor Grody came up with a plan,
cause all of a sudden he showed up at the toxic waste dump.
I hate this place.
Every time I come here, I ruin another pair of shoes made
from an endangered species.
Toxic Crusaders, I'm here to make you a proposal.
Forget it, man.
We're not the marrying kind.
Tromaville is growing, expanding--
bursting at the seams.
Kind of like these at of your pants?
Exactly.
And I need citizens like yourselves
to help make it grow.
Eh, gee, we'd like to help, but being hideously deformed
creatures of superhuman size and strength
takes up most of our time.
Gentlemen, I'm talking about glamorous, high paying
executive positions with the city.
For instance, Junkyard, you'll be my vice president
in charge of pooper scoopers.
Sounds tempting.
And Bender and Fender, you will be my joint heads of traffic.
All right!
No-Zone, you'll be in charge of painting those yellow lines
of the middle of the road.
Have wheel, will travel.
Major Disaster reporting for assignment, sir.
Oh.
You, Major, will be Tromaville's official Tunisian fruit fly
inspector.
Hm.
International intrigue.
Oh-ho, I like it.
And now Toxie, for your special job--
Gosh, I don't know, mayor.
My schedule's pretty full just fighting new bad guys.
But your city needs ya.
Besides, this will hardly cut into your time at all.
You'll be ambassador for visiting bigwigs.
But bigwigs never visit Tromavile.
That's right.
Well, in the case I accept.
Good.
Start packing.
Packing?
Why?
Important city officials can't live
in a disgusting dump like this.
My limo will pick you up first thing tomorrow morning.
NARRATOR: Mom was so proud of our new careers
that she defrosted a special dinner.
Great grab, Toxie's Mom.
Yes.
Almost as good as army chow.
Why, it's a pleasure to kiss up to you boys
now that you're important city officials.
OK.
But at least let me help you clean up.
And to top things off, I baked a special surprise--
an Yvonne Chiffon cake!
Oh, wow!
[excited chatter]
(SINGING) Even though he looks yucky, my honey man's a yuppie.
He's a mover and a shaker, a real decision maker.
When I see him, I drool like a puppy!
Ow!
Well, Toxie, what do you think?
Mm.
Delicious.
Toxie's mom was right.
The way to a man's heart is through his lower intestine.
NARRATOR: It was time for us movers and shakers to leave
our beloved toxic waste dump, but at least
we were leaving in style.
Still, I couldn't help feeling I was leaving a piece of myself
behind.
I was!
I forgot Mop and Blobbie!
Dr. Killemoff, Mayor Grody here.
Well?
Have you moved the Toxic Crusaders off the dump site?
Yeah.
They're out of your hair, and into mine.
Splendid!
I'll have the Radiation Rangers start building that
pumping station immediately.
Oh, goodie.
The sooner the better.
Wait!
I'm not finished!
Remember, Grody, keep the Toxic Crusaders away
from the waste dump-- or else.
I'm beginning to hate being the bad guy.
NARRATOR: And now these messages.
We now return to the Toxic Crusaders.
Here we are, boys.
Welcome to your new home, Grody Towers.
Oh, now there's a coincidence.
It's got the same name as you.
This dump makes our dump look like-- a real dump.
Just follow me to your luxurious new condo, boys.
Yoo-hoo?
Mom?
Open up!
It's me.
Hello, sonny.
Mom, I'd like you to meet my new administrative assistants.
They'll be moving into the building.
Oh, that's nice.
Which apartment?
Yours.
You've got exactly 5 minutes to pack your junk and get out.
Now hold on!
You're actually planning to toss out
your own dear, sweet mother?
Don't worry, Major.
She's used to it.
But how could you?
She's so old and feeble, and gray haired, and wrinkled,
and-- OK, already!
He gets the point!
You stay right where you are, Mayor Grody's mom!
If our new jobs mean you'll be without a home,
then we don't want them.
Right, guys?
Yeah!
Right!
Toxic Crusaders, back to the dump.
March!
To the dump, to the dump, to the dump, dump, dump!
No! Wait!
I-- I got a better idea.
You can move into the penthouse.
How's that?
It depends.
Who you going to evict from there?
Me.
In that case, you've got yourself a deal.
I can't wait til the Radiation Rangers finish
building that pumping station.
Then I'll be able to kick those Crusaders out
on their toxic butts.
What on Earth?
Those idiots have defaced my priceless antique door.
And they've changed the lock, too.
Open up!
I know you're in there!
Oh, hi, mayor.
Hey, nice shorts.
Yeah.
Having you move in was the stupidest
idea I ever came up with--
Surprise!
Well, what do ya think?
What do I think?
Toxic City Officials reporting for duty, Mr. Mayor.
Gentlemen, you know what your duties are.
So go do them.
Right, your honor!
Toxie, why are you still here?
Cause I've got nothing to do.
That's why I figured I'd go back to the dump
and check on things.
Ow!
Back to the dump?
Why not?
Seeing as how there aren't any bigwigs
visiting Tromaville today.
You want bigwigs?
I'll get ya bigwigs!
Do you clowns remember what you're supposed to do?
Yeah.
We're supposed to let Toxie give us the royal tour,
but keep him away from the dump.
That's exactly right.
But there's something about this that's bothering me.
If it's your girdle, I don't want to hear about it.
No.
It's more like, what if one of them hideously deformed mutants
falls madly in love with me and blows the whole scheme.
Fat chance.
Have you looked in a mirror lately?
Look who's talking, freak face.
Oh, yeah?
Yeah.
Hey, great touch.
The fighting will convince 'em you two are really married.
Toxie, may I present the Ludicon and Lucrious of Bare Butta.
Welcome to Tromaville, your royal hineys.
Here's a fiver.
Take 'em out for a fancy lunch.
Hang on, royal folks.
The Tromabille tour is about to begin.
NARRATOR: Meanwhile, we Crusaders
were busy with our important city assignments.
For instance, No-Zone was painting yellow lines
down the middle of the road.
Well, sort of down the middle.
While Junkyard was taking care of another kind of business.
Hey, you with the pom poms on your paws, show a little class,
will ya?
Merci "barku."
NARRATOR: Meanwhile, Headbanger had his hands
full directing traffic.
Come on!
Come on, move it, dudes!
No!
No, no, wait!
No, no!
I wish you'd make up your mind.
Good old Major Disaster was hot on the trail
of Tunisian fruit flies.
All elms and oaks, front and center.
Hip, hup, hip, hup.
Company halt!
Now drop your leaves and spread 'em!
NARRATOR: As for me, I was showing the Ludicon
and Ludicrous around the town.
How would you like to see Tromaville's
favorite meeting place?
Combination bowling alley and laundromat, the Bowl and Fold.
Sounds pretty neat to me.
Anywhere but the toxic dump.
Our little woman here is allergic to garbage.
Oh, what a pity.
To me it's the most beautiful spot in all of Tromaville.
NARRATOR: Then something happened
that changed the entire course of this story.
And aren't you glad?
Oh!
Hubba hubba!
NARRATOR: The minute No-Zone laid
eyes on the [inaudible] Ludicrous,
he was head over heels in love.
Wait!
Come back!
Now that I've found you, you can't just
limbo out of my life!
Uh-oh!
Whoa!
Hey, what's going on?
This must be love.
Mother told me I'd be knocked right off my feet.
Hey, spokes for brains, that's my wife's lap
you're sitting in.
Oh, just my luck to fall in love with a married woman.
NARRATOR: That night we were all taking a well earned
and much needed bath in Mayor Grody's hot tub.
(SINGING) We're the Toxic Crusaders.
We can clean, and Toxic Crusaders.
Scrub-a dub-a Toxic Crusaders.
Of that we're pretty sure of.
NARRATOR: When suddenly the mayor's
secretary dropped in on us.
Hello?
Am I in the right penthouse?
I'm looking for-- whoa!
Are you all right, little lady?
I guess I should thank you.
I can't believe it.
First you take my condo, now you take my bimbo.
That does it, Mona.
I'm out of your life forever!
Man, go figure.
Faster, you clods!
Faster!
Herr Killemoff, what's taking so long?
It's those blasted Radiation Rangers, Czar Zosta.
I won't tolerate excuses!
You'll finish on schedule, or I'll have your head!
Do you hear me?
Only too clearly.
NARRATOR: And now these messages.
We now return to the Toxic Crusaders.
What did I do to deserve this?
This has gotta be the longest night of my life.
It's also the shortest nap you've ever had.
Now move along, buster.
It's against the law to sleep in the park.
You flat-footed idiot.
I'm the mayor of this town!
I wrote that law!
I know.
You also wrote the one about our not eating donuts on duty.
Now scram, bozo!
What did I do to deserve this?
I mean, besides taking bribes, cheating on my income tax,
and secretly arranging for the take over of Tromvaville
by the smog breathing aliens.
The Toxic Crusaders will pay for this, but good.
Ah, what a fine day for a surprise Tunisian fruit
fly inspection.
Hm.
There's something suspicious looking about this sassafras.
Atten-hut!
Present arms!
Oh, my.
This is the fattest fruit fly I've ever seen.
I'm gonna need a larger specimen bottle.
NARRATOR: Meanwhile, poor love sick No-Zone couldn't
keep his mind on his work.
All he could think about was the Ludicrous of Bare Butta.
Oh, my ravishing lyrotund Ludicrous.
I can see us now.
Darling!
Fly into my arms!
[screaming]
Hold on!
You're not the Ludicroussa.
Neither of ya.
You idiot!
I oughta write you a ticket for this!
Hey, chill out, man.
Can't you see the dude's in love?
I'll give you love, you addle painted add-on!
Ouch!
Hey!
Take that!
What that guy needs is a couple of girlfriends.
NARRATOR: No-Zone's love affair was playing
heck with my assignment, too.
[screaming]
Hey, cut it out.
We're getting car sick back here.
Barf bags!
You think of everything, don't you, Mop?
Mm-hm.
NARRATOR: That crazy No-Zone was even more in love
than I thought.
The toxic dump?
Hey, wait!
No, turn around!
You're going the wrong way!
Sorry, folks, but it's against the law to cross a yellow line.
Killemoff's gonna have our skulls.
He told us to keep this jerk away from the dump.
I warned you one of them might fall in love with me
and botch things up.
You and your woman's intuition.
NARRATOR: Something weird was happening.
The closer we got to the dump, the more my Tromatons
started kicking in.
And then I saw why.
Our cozy little shack was history!
A pumping station.
I'll bet my Tromatons Dr. Killemoff is behind this.
Dr. Killemoff?
Who's Dr. Killemoff?
Well, he's the guy we work for, stupid.
Don't you remember?
Shut up, you bug brain.
I'm sorry, your royal lewdnesses,
but I'll have to drop you at a movie or something.
I've got a protest to organize.
No cruddy crude!
You're too late.
The first airship crammed with huddled masses
of Smogulons, yearning to breathe gunk, is about to land.
WOMAN: Attention, passengers.
We are approaching Tromaville.
Please put your antenna in an upright position,
and if you've got'em, smoke 'em.
Radiation Rangers, remove all trespassers from the area!
Let's show these bozos what weak, defenseless women
are made of!
Right on, Toxie's mom!
Way to go, sister!
You might as well give up, Troma villians.
The Smogulon airship has arrived with fresh troops.
Killemoff's right.
Maybe we should surrender.
No way!
A Toxic Crusader doesn't know the meaning
of the word surrender.
Actually, there are lots of words a Toxic Crusader
don't know the meaning of.
Don't worry, men.
My tree troops have been preparing
for just such an emergency.
All trees, present [inaudible]!
Hip and hut!
And hip!
TOXIE: Great work, Major Disaster!
The Smogulons will never find this place now.
And just to make sure--
That's not fair!
You're cheating.
We're not finished yet.
Junkyard, help me out with this ancient battle
song I just wrote.
Wait, babe.
Let's pump up the volume with these killer amps.
Why thank you, Fender.
(SINGING) Oh, how we love to fight, whether we are wrong
or we are right.
Sometimes it's just for sport, especially when we fight.
Oh, yeah!
WOMAN: Due to emergency conditions,
we'll be returning to Smogula.
Hey, that's the second time in this episode
we've amplified sounds to defeat the Radiation Rangers!
I say when you've got a good thing going, stick with it.
They did it again!
Don't worry, boss.
I'll handle them Toxic Crusaders!
Starting with the head Tox!
Say goodbye, blister brain!
That sure is a strange custom, your heinyness.
In our country, we just wave goodbye.
Like this.
Aw, Bonehead, you bone head!
Now eat my laser blasts.
Oh, Mop!
You-- you made the supreme sacrifice for me.
[giggling]
You're alive!
Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,
thank you, thank you.
Yuck!
See that?
I warned you everything would go wrong.
But would you listen?
No.
Aw, shut up.
Ludicons.
Go figure.
[theme music]