N Meet George Jetson N'
N His boy Elroy N
N Daughter Judy N
N Jane, his wife NM
The Jetsons.
Brought to you by...
Our story begins here at the Spacely Space Sprockets factory,
where this faithful dog is patiently waiting
for his beloved master to complete a long day's work.
Oh, boy!
Hold it! Hold it!
Sorry, pal. Things are rough, rough all over.
But we got company rules.
No dogs allowed beyond this point.
Get the point?
Say... aren't you Jetson's dog?
Yeah.
Well... Go right in.
Thanks.
Shee! What ever happened to toy poodles?
Oh, boy, oh, boy. This is the last time I'm gonna work overtime.
Getting home at three in the afternoon is killing me.
Leaving, Mr. Jetson?
Yeah, I'm beat.
When I get home, I'm gonna relax in a nice hot tub
of sound waves.
Goodnight, Miss Ribbits.
Goodnight, Mr. Jetson.
Down, please.
Astro! Oh, no! Now, how did you get here?
Hold it, boy! Hold it!
Easy now, easy.
Astro, what are you doing here?
I missed you.
Yeah. Well, I missed you too.
And I bet the whole family is out looking for you.
Elroy, have you found Astro yet?
Not yet, Mom.
Gee. Do you think he got lost?
I certainly hope not.
Here, Astro. Come on, boy.
Here, Astro!
Gosh, Mother! He just doesn't seem to be anywhere.
I've even looked in the closets.
Poor Astro!
Maybe he got dognapped or something, huh?
I don't know, Elroy.
But one thing's for sure. He's gone.
It's your dad.
Poor dear, he'll be heartbroken about Astro.
They were so close.
Come on, Astro, come on, move over.
Can't you sit in the car like other dogs?
Oh, let's face it, you're a real Astro-mutt.
Yeah, an Ashe-mutt.
Well, we 're home, boy.
Let's go. Heel.
Heel! Heel!
Oh, for the love of...
Now, look, I know we're pals. But you have a distorted view
of a man and a dog relationship. You understand?
Yeah, sure.
- Oh, what's the use? - Going up.
I don't know how to tell your dad Astro's gone.
Break it to him gently, Mother.
Shh, here he comes.
- I'm home. - He's home!
- It's him! - Hooray!
Boy, did we miss you!
Oh, heck. It's only me.
Where was you, Astra?
We've been looking all over for you.
You've been a naughty boy, making us worry like this.
Aw, I'm sorry.
Aw, he says he's sorry, Mom.
Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?
Oh, hello, George.
Hiya, Dad!
Yeah, hi, Dad.
Maybe I ought to grow some long ears and a tail
to get some notice around here.
Oh, don't be silly. We love you too.
Ha. Well, at least I'm running a close second.
'You'll always be number one around here, Daddy.'
Well, that's better.
I love you.
Well, it's nice to be loved, but this is ridiculous.
Why don't you take Astro out for a dog walk, dear?
While I fix dinner.
Not me.
Well, you're going for a walk anyway.
So you can skip that snappy back talk. Now, come on.
Come on! On your feet!
I don't wanna.
What are you blubbering for?
I don't wanna take a walk.
Of course you wanna take a walk. These dog walks are fun.
I wish I had one.
Well, alright.
Hey, wait.
No, no. Astro, come back here.
Astro, where's George?
Help! Help, Jane!
Stop this crazy thing, will you?
Oh, dear. How does that man get into fixes like that?
Hold on, George!
"Hold on," she says.
Shee!
Now, listen to me. You're getting on that dog walk
if it's the last thing you do.
Oh, boy. I must have the only juvenile dog delinquent in town.
Now spare me the sad parting bit. Just go!
Take a walk.
I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry!
Alright, alright. So you're sorry.
You know, if this was on TV, you'd win an Academy Award.
Now what? Come in.
Mr. Jetson?
- Yeah? - My name Is Withers.
I'm an attorney, representing the fabulously wealthy
J.P. Gottrockets.
Um... do you have a dog, Mr. Jetson?
What do you think this is? My mother-in-law?
Is your dog five feet nine, weight 115
and answers to the name of Tralfaz?
Tralfaz?
Yuck!
My dog's name has been Astro ever since we found him.
Yeah, Astro!
His name is Tralfaz, and here is his pedigree to prove it.
What's wrong, George?
- Who's Gottrockets? - What does that man want, Dad?
Oh, this character says Astro isn't our dog.
That's right.
Mr. Gottrockets sent me to bring Tralfaz home.
Tralfaz?
Yuck!
You can't take Astro. He's happy here.
Yeah, I'm happy here.
Ha! You see? He's happy here.
He'll be happier with my fabulously wealthy client.
Tralfaz will have the very best.
A split level doghouse, heated doggy pool,
seven course doggy meals three times a day,
his own fur-lined fire hydrant.
He will live in the lap of luxury.
Well, of course. If that's what Tralfaz... I mean, Astro wants.
You don't want any old private swimming pool, do you, Astro?
You don't want any old lap of luxury, do you?
Hmm... Uh-uh.
Yippee! He stays!
Well, that settles it.
Astro and I have our differences, but if he leaves
it'll be over my dead body.
It may take a court order for that.
But I'll get it.
Yeah, well, fine. In the meantime, buzz off, will you?
I shall return!
Thank you.
Mmm, I wonder if I made a mistake.
But what'll we do when Mr. Withers returns, George?
Yeah, he'll try to take Astro again.
Well, I could make it rough for him and let him take Astro.
- Huh? - George, be serious.
Hey, uh, couldn't we just kind of hide Astro?
- Elroy, you're a genius. - I am?
A regular chip off the old block.
Operation "Hide Astro" is about to begin.
And so, while operation "Hide Astro" goes into action,
we go to the modest suburban flat
of Mr. J.P. Gottrockets,
where J.P. awaits the next move in the deadly game
of "Astro, Astro, who gets Astro?"
Well, Withers. I presume you found and returned
my dog Tralfaz.
Well, uh, eh...
Not exactly, Mr. Gottrockets, sir.
Not exactly? Now see here, Withers.
I didn't get to be filthy rich by permitting my property
to be poached on indiscriminately.
Oh, let's see.
Should I get a Miami, Honolulu, or a Riviera tan today?
Oh, I guess a three-second Miami tan will do it.
You'll pardon my saying so, sir,
but the dog seems to be happy, uh, where he is.
I want that dog returned at once.
Or you'll wind up back on TV night court.
Is that clear?
Oh, no! Oh, no!
Not that, sir! I'll do it.
Of course, it will mean a custody fight in court.
I'II fight it down to my last billion.
Now get moving.
Get a habeas corpuscle or something.
At once, sir. A what, sir?
Meanwhile, back at the Jetson home.
George, do you really think it'll work?
Oh, sure it will. With this old jacket and this hat
we'll pass him off as our Uncle Charlie.
Not a bad fit, huh?
Now remember, Astro. You're Uncle Charlie. You got it?
Got it.
Now, nobody sits like that.
Get up and sit like a man.
Like this?
Who is it?
It's me, Withers.
I've got a court order to repossess Tralfaz.
Ooh. It's that mean man.
Oh, George. What'll we do?
Quick, Elroy. Open the closet. Astro, you go hide in there.
Okay.
Now, remember, don't make a sound, Uncle Charlie.
Ouch!
Shh! Don't yell.
Ouch.
All set, Dad.
Okay, now everybody act natural.
Well, hiya, Mr. Withers.
Have you seen Ash-0?
Don't give me that.
I've come for the dog.
Ah, well, you see, he ran away.
Look, I've got no time for hide-and-seek games.
Where are you hiding Tralfaz?
I tell you, he ran away.
Would I lie to you?
Yes. You know, the last place anyone would hide a dog
is in the closet.
But you don't look too bright, so I'll check in the closet.
Uh-oh, he's gonna find Astro.
Hello.
Oh, that's our Uncle Charlie.
He's a little on the eccentric side.
What's eccentric?
With a face like that, I'd hide too.
Good heavens. What a dog face.
Eh? Dog?
Yoo-hoo! Uncle Charlie?
Alright!
Oh, don't! No! Uncle Charlie, wait!
My! What a long tail you have, Uncle Charlie.
Uh-oh.
Quick, Astro. Run for it!
Oh, no, you don't.
Excuse me, but did you see a big dog go by here?
He went that way.
He went that way? Thanks.
Oh, the things I go through
for a measly million dollar retainer fee.
Hey! That was Tralfaz.
Alright, wise guy. You're coming with me!
I'm warning you.
I never give up.
Help! Help!
Quick, George! Do something.
Here comes that terrible man again.
Elroy, find another hiding place for Astro
while I keep that guy from coming back.
Where, Dad? Where?
Where shall I hide him?
How should I know? Put him in the..
Ah. There you are.
You know, I think we're carrying this dog-lover bit too far.
Come back here, dog.
I've got you legally cornered.
Oh, no!
They've gone right through the window.
There they are on Astro's dog walk.
It's no use, Tralfaz.
I'll track you down like a legal beagle.
And when I hit this stop button, he better be a flying beagle.
Huh?
Yow!
Pretty sneaky, Jetson.
But I'll be back.
Now, where's that car control unit?
Ah, here it is.
Calling my car. Calling my car.
Falling due south on north side of building.
Get down here right away. Over.
Of all the dumb cars, where were you when the electronic brains
were passed out?
I'm through being reasonable, Jetson.
You forced me into this.
I'm serving you with this summons.
Okay, so you did.
Now, make like the wind and blow.
Very well.
But remember, the wind ofjustice blows an "I window
for those who deal in chicanery.
Now what's that supposed to mean?
I don't know, it's just something I picked up
in law school.
What do we do now, dear?
Oh, I don't know.
It'll take a Perry Spacen to save Astro now.
Hear ye, hear ya. This court Is now In session.
The first case is J.P. Gottrockets
versus the Jetsons.
You may proceed.
Shouldn't we have hired an attorney, George?
We can't afford one.
Well, the Jury-vac doesn't look too sympathetic.
Oh, don't worry, when Astro starts hamming it up
this will be an open and shut case.
This better be an open and shut case, Withers.
Or you'll have an open and shut job.
Y-yes, sir.
Will the plaintiff please take the stand?
Your Honor, my client, the fabulously wealthy
Mr. Gottrockets, maintains that this pedigree
bearing the name of Tralfaz, alias Astro,
and fitting the description of the said animal
is sufficient and conclusive proof
that the dog is the property of said client.
And briefly, Your Honor, that is our case.
We will now hear from the defendant.
So you see, Judge, Astro has been with us so long that...
I object, Your Honor.
The defense is imposing undue influence on the court.
Objection sustained.
That means scram!
Would the defense care to call any witnesses?
Ah, yeah. I'd like to call Astro to the stand.
Mr. Astro. Will you please take the stand?
Will you tell the truth, the whole truth, etcetera, etcetera,
and like that?
I M...
I object again, Your Honor.
The witness is a dog.
Overruled.
The court is not concerned with the personality of the witness.
But Your Honor, he's a real dog.
You know, bow-wow. Woof-woof-woof and so forth.
Oh, yeah. So he is. Objection sustained.
Oh, nuts.
The clerk will strike the dog's remark from the records.
And the Jury-Vac will disregard the dog's testimony.
Now, Elroy, I want you to take your time and tell the court
just how you first acquired Astro.
Well, you remember, Pop.
It all began one day down at the playground.
I was playing in the sand box, looking for mineral deposits.
I had just dug this swell hole, when all of a sudden
in rushed this big dog.
Help, save me! Help, help!
Gee, fella, what is it?
What's wrong, boy, huh?
The dogcatcher.
The dogcatcher'
Quick boy, into this hole. I'II save you.
Here, put on this hat and try to act natural.
Okay.
Hey, you kids seen a stray dog around here?
- A dog? - Uh-uh.
Okay, thanks.
We did it. You're safe, boy.
Thank you. Thanks a lot.
You're welcome. Uh, don't you have a home of your own?
Uh-uh.
Would you like to be my dog?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Then I brought him home and he's been mine ever since.
Except now, I'm gonna lose him.
Now, now. Now, now.
Now, see here, any more outbursts like that
and I'll have to clear the courtroom, understand?
And in conclusion, I would like to point out
to this intelligent Jury-Vac that the defense has failed
to refute the claims of my client.
That the pedigree is absolute proof
and therefore, the dog is the property of my client.
Thus, we rest our case, Your Honor.
The jury, having heard the evidence, will now
scientifically deduce its verdict.
Do you think we have a chance, dear?
Well, put it this way.
You can start calling Astro by his new name Tralfaz.
Has the Jury-vac reached a verdict?
Yes, Your Honor.
I might add, Withers, your job hangs in the balance.
The jury awards the dog to Mr. Gottrockets.
Hooray! We did it! Hooray! We did it! Yippee!
Good work, Withers. Yourjob is safe.
For another month.
Oh, you're all heart, sir.
Thank you, sir.
I'm sorry, old pal. I... I did my best.
Of course, the defendants will be permitted reasonable
visiting hours.
Case closed.
Come on, Tralfaz. We're going home.
I've got your room all fixed up for you.
So long, Astro.
Goodbye, Astro.
It won't be so bad.
You'll be a rich dog from now on.
Yeah. And we'll visit you every chance we get, Astro.
You can forget that Astro stuff.
From now on, your name is Tralfaz.
Tralfaz.
Yuck!
And so, Astro, that is, Tralfaz
was doomed to a life of dull, depressing wealth and luxury
at the home of the fabulously wealthy Mr. J.P. Gottrockets.
He had everything a dog could want.
A private doghouse with all necessary
or incidental accessories.
And outside, he had his own private, circular dog walk.
The finest foods were readily available at paw's length.
How about that!
But poor Astro was not happy.
He felt lost In the lonely new world.
And he missed his beloved Jetsons.
Only two things made Astro happy.
One was his daily romp with Gottrockets.
Down, boy. Down! Down! Heel! Heel! Down!
Yeeowch!
Ooh, that's six pairs of pants you've ruined this week.
The other thing that made him happy was visiting hour.
Tell me, how are they treating you, pal?
Not bad.
Then, one day..
Oh, Tralfaz. It's visiting hour again.
Hi, Astro.
- Hello, boy. - It's us, Astro.
Here, boy.
Yippie!
Alright, Astro.
I'm glad to see you, too.
We sure miss you, Astro.
I miss you, too.
Just look at them, Withers. I think we've been wrong.
Taking that sweet dog from those nice people.
Would we hurt our corporate image if we gave him back?
It would make everybody happy, sir.
Besides, it could make things a lot easier
on my personal image.
Oh, I agree, sir.
And I'll arrange the papers right away.
Well, so long, pal. We'll be back next week.
Oh, Mr. Jetson. One moment, please.
Mr. Gottrockets has decided to present Tralf... Astro
to you as a gift.
Huh?
Here are the papers, sir. Astro is now legally yours.
Why, it's true.
Astro belongs to us.
Come on, boy. You're going home.
Yippie!
I'm going home. Yippie!
Rippie! I mean, yippie!
Give Mr. Gottrockets our thanks, Withers.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye.
N For he's a jolly good fellow N
N For he's a jolly good fellow N'
Which nobody can deny NM
The Jetsons.
Brought to you by...
Help! Help!
Jane, stop this crazy thing.
Jane!
Help! Jane!