Ah-hyuck!
♪ H-h-h-hit it ♪
♪ Like father, like son ♪
♪ You're always number one ♪
[both] Yes!
♪ There's buddies There's pals ♪
Yeah!
♪ You always seem to work things out ♪
♪ Can't you see you're two of a kind ♪
♪ Lookin' for a real good time ♪
Whoa!
♪ A real good time ♪
Aah!
♪ Report to the Goof Troop ♪
♪ And we'll always stick together ♪
♪ Always stick together ♪
♪ We're the Goof Troop ♪
♪ The best of friends forever ♪
♪ Side by side wherever we go ♪
♪ We're always ready to roll ♪
♪ Now gimme a beat ♪
♪ We're the Goof Troop ♪
♪ And we always stick together ♪
Gawrsh!
♪ We're the Goof Troop ♪
♪ The best of friends forever ♪
♪ Now we're calling everyone ♪
♪ Come along and join the fun ♪
♪ Report to the Goof Troop ♪
♪ Baa ba doo da bop baa ba doo bop ♪
Yeah!
[birds twittering]
[dog barks]
Shh!
[wood creaking]
-Max, they're here! -Uh-oh.
[gulps]
Your new glasses!
Oh, let's just send them back, okay?
I don't need glasses.
But, Max, the eye doctor says you got
temporary atigma--uh--stigma-
You got eye strain, Max.
A mistake! A clerical error!
Oh, I don't think so.
He says it's from too many video games.
Six straight hours of laser burn,
seven million points, and a new Spoonerville world record.
Well, Maxie, you only gotta wear them a couple of weeks
till your vision gets back to normal.
Pop, really! I can see clear as a bell!
See you later! I'm going next door to hang with Peej.
Whatcha ya doing in the closet, Max?
I was just looking for, uh, this tennis racquet.
-Whoa! -Hey, look out!
Whew!
You don't like your glasses, do you, Maxie?
Like 'em? Only geeks and nerds wear glasses,
and everybody picks on 'em and call 'em four-eyes.
I wanna show you something.
[straining]
Stuck.
Come on, little feller.
-I won't hurt you. -[crashing]
Ah-hyuck! Got it!
No, Pop! Not that!
Aww, please?
I'll do the dishes, the laundry, anything!
Just not... the album.
Now, Max, the family photo album's nothing to sneeze at.
[sneezes]
[crashing]
Well, that's a pall on the family tree.
Ah-hyuck!
Max, I wanna tell you a story
about a hero who wore glasses--
Your great, great, great grandpa,
Mopalong Goofy.
It all right started the day Mopalong first rode into
Dodgeball City.
I've come to clean up this town.
Howdy, stranger.
You the new sheriff?
Oh, heck, no. I'm the new janitor.
They call me Mopalong Goofy.
Fastest broom in the west.
-[coughing] -[blows]
That's some mighty fancy broom work, Mopalong.
-Well, thanks. -The name's Fester Swollen,
and I'd like to shake your hand.
Shake a leg is more like it.
Lot of dirt on this street.
[groans] That's on account of it's a dirt road, Mopalong.
That's no excuse for untidiness.
Morning, ma'am. Nice hat.
So you see, Max,
Mopalong Goofy had a stigma-- [stammers]
...was nearsighted just like you.
Of course, in his case, it wasn't just temporary.
Great story, Pop. A real heart-stopper.
Well, gotta run, have to organize my sock drawer.
Wait, there's more.
I tingle with anticipation.
Mopalong Goofy swept and polished that whole town
till it sparkled like a brand new spittoon.
Well, howdy there horsy. Ah-hyuck!
Hungry?
Guess not.
You ought think about having that goatee trimmed.
-[horse whinnies] -Pardon me, stranger.
I'm Isadore Eyesore, eye doctor.
I, janitor!
No you don't understand.
-I'm an optometrist. -Don't blame you.
I always try and look on the bright side myself.
No, no, no. [chuckles]
I'm an eye specialist,
and you, my friend, need glasses.
Glasses? That's just plumb loco.
I can see clear as a--
See what I mean?
No, of course, you don't.
And you won't till you get glasses.
My card. Call me anytime night or day.
Forget it! Only tinhorns and carpetbaggers wear glasses,
and everyone picks on 'em and call 'em Four-eyes.
See? That's what I've been trying to tell you, Pop!
Real men don't wear glasses.
Now don't jump to confusions, Max.
There's more to this story than meets the eye.
Ah-hyuck!
[hesitates] Luck 7 salon?
Dangnabbit, Miss Lily.
I been soaking long enough.
All I wanted was a trim.
Gawrsh, Fester.
This where all the cowboys go every afternoon?
Yep. This here local salon is the only hangout we got.
Well, then you ought to keep it clean.
Saloon? Whoa! Hey, doggy!
Listen up, boys! This ain't a salon!
It's a saloon!
-[cheering] -[gunfire]
No more manicures!
No more facials!
[crowd clamoring]
[woman] He's coming! Mark my words.
Pecos Pete's coming to town!
You gotta do something to protect us, Mayor Baba.
Oh, now, citizens!
Please, please!
I know as well as you that every six months
Pecos Pete comes to town and shoots the new sheriff.
Except this time we don't have a new sheriff.
And that's gonna make Pete mad.
Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to hire a sheriff
for Pecos Pete to shoot.
Trouble is, nobody left in town's stupid enough to take the job.
I stand corrected.
Congratulations, my boy!
You're the new sheriff of Dodgeball City.
Me? Sheriff?
Gawrsh!
Are you making this up, Dad?
Come on, Max.
Who could make up anything this goofy?
So what happened to the last sheriff, Fester?
-On to Boot Hill. -Good for him.
There's no business like the shoe business.
No, uh, don't understand.
He's gone to the last roundup.
Oh, doing some cattle driving, huh?
No! He was shot dead by Pecos Pete!
Same as happened to all the others.
-Others? -Yep!
If I was you and that no-good avocado showed up right now,
know what I'd say?
What's that, Fester?
I don't want to die! Please, Mr. Pete, I don't want to die.
Oh, please, please, please! [sobbing]
But don't worry, Sheriff.
Pete headed south.
I don't suspect he'll be back this way again.
"Pecos Pete heading for town to murder sheriff.
Have a nice day."
Uh... [clears throat]
Time to start worrying, Sheriff.
Pecos Pete is heading this way.
Pecos Pete's heading this way.
-Hold it, Pop? -Huh?
This was supposed to be a story about a hero who wore glasses.
Well, it is, Max.
But Mopalong didn't wear glasses, and he got to be sheriff, right?
Well, yeah. I mean, no.
I'm mean, I'm getting to that part, Max.
Okay? Uh-huh. Pecos Pete's heading this way!
Oh, and me not knowing a thing about sherriffing.
Oh, yeah.
You might wanna check that top drawer--
[narrator] How to be a sheriff.
Ah-hyuck! That's me.
Oh, the sheriff, bastion of law and order
in the early west.
The sheriff relies on rapid reflexes
and keen eyesight.
Therefore, if you're having trouble reading this,
you probably need glasses!
Gawrsh!
Now, where did I put that card?
Found it! Ah-hyuck!
Ah, Sheriff, I'm glad you finally decided to see me...
So to speak. [chuckles]
Now, please read the top line of the chart.
Okey-doke. What chart?
Hmm. There, I'll start you out.
[reading]
Continue.
Gawrsh!
♪ With a woof-woof here And a woo-woof there ♪
♪ Here a woof, there a woof ♪
♪ Everywhere a woof-woof ♪
Now, we're gonna fit you with some nice glasses.
That's too presidential.
Too palm beach.
[chuckles] Definitely not.
Close but no cigar.
Perfect!
Gawrsh! Everything's in focus.
The eye chart and the furniture and--
[gasps] Who's that handsome guy in the glasses?
-That's you! -Gawrsh!
-Thanks, doc! -Yeah, thanks.
Now, I won't go tripping over things all the time.
[screams]
[thud]
[horse neighs]
Well, after all, they're glasses, not a brain transplant.
[narrator] Chapter two-- [clears throat]
The roping, the rustler.
Holding the lasso or lariat firmly in one hand,
the sheriff waves his arm in a circular motion.
Faster and faster he twirls,
his strong arm of the law flinging wide,
his rawhide rope of justice
never tiring, ever vigilant,
his steely eyes searching the horizon for
the ever-present rustler.
[screams]
Only if no rustlers are sighted
does the sheriff know it is safe to stop.
I said stop!
[screaming]
[body thuds]
Chapter six--
saddling up the horse.
[groans]
The western saddle, a marvelous invention
of finely tooled leather.
Perfectly balanced. As light as a feather.
Melding rider and horse into one machine
with the finely-tuned reflexes of a bobcat.
[thud]
Ah-hyuck!
[clears throat]
Even a bobcat needs a bath once in a while.
Now, while all this was going on,
Pecos Pete was getting closer and closer.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch,
or should I say the lucky seven saloon,
Mopalong was having himself a nice cool sarsaparilla
when suddenly...
[screams]
Hey! How come every time I walk into a saloon,
the music stops?
Come here, Lily. Give Pecos Pete a little smooch.
Whoa! Wowee! What's your cologne called? Six days in the saddle?
Ah-hyuck!
[Pecos Pete] Oh, wise guy, eh?
What are you laughing at, pilgrim?
Ah-hyuck! Six days in the saddle.
-I gotta remember that one. -[Pecos Pete] Listen, you greenhorn.
You better-- Well, now...
If it ain't the new sheriff.
Time to trip the light fantastic, tinhorn!
-Huh? -Dance!
Oh, golly, thanks, but I think I'll sit this one out.
Gotta a couple of bunions, and you actually do smell pretty bad--
[laughing]
-Hey! -Shall we dip?
Who you calling a dip?
This must be one of them new fangled dance steps, huh?
Sheriff!
I'm calling you out!
Now, Pete, just 'cause I danced with you
doesn't mean you can run my life.
Meet me at high noon at the Okeydoke Corral.
Okey-doke.
Seems like a real nice feller.
Don't you know who that was?
-Dance instructor? -Pecos Pete.
-The outlaw. -He is?
Who are you, the tailor?
No, I'm the undertaker.
Do you prefer a pine box or something in spruce? [chuckles]
[Goofy] Well, Max, the sun was blazing high in the sky.
the clock tower said ten minutes till noon.
Mopalong Goofy headed for his last roundup--
The gunfight at the Okeydoke Corral.
-You're late! -I got lost.
Your directions were terrible.
You ready to gunfight?
Gunfight? Sure.
Just let me review that chapter real quick.
Gun slinging...
[muttering] Oh, here we go!
-Gun fighting! -[Pecos Pete] Gimme that!
You don't need no book.
Oh, sure I do. That's why I got the glasses.
Glasses? Real men don't wear glasses!
Hey! Give those back!
Oops.
Aww, they got all broke.
But how am I gonna know what to do if I can't read the book?
You just listen to old Pecos Pete.
We walk ten paces, turn around and shoot, got that?
Almost.
What was that third part after we turn around?
Shoot!
Okey-doke.
Not yet. First we walk ten paces, see?
But you told me to--
I know what I told you! Now do what I'm telling you!
Sorry. It's my first fight to the death.
Ah-hyuck!
Get moving.
One, two, three, four--
[Goofy] Five, six, seven--
Eight, nine--
Hey, where'd that idjit go?
Psst. Hey, stranger,
you seen Pecos Pete?
-Yeah. -Where?
Right here!
[gunshots]
Whew!
[guns cock]
Why did the chicken cross the road?
I'm being riddled by bullets.
Oh, sheriff! Is that you?
-Yup! -[gunfire]
[clicking]
[rattling]
Uh-oh! Out of bullets!
Come on out, you liver-bellied coward!
I'm really in a pickle now.
Hope these are the high-caliber 'cukes.
-[groans] Gherkins! I hate gherkins! -[gunshot]
I got it! I got it!
[overlapping shouts]
Okay, Pete! Reach for the sky!
Sure that pickle's loaded, sheriff?
[laughing]
Say hasta la vista, Mopalong!
Well, ouchy!
Say!
All right, Pete!
You better give it up.
I don't need a gun to beat the likes of you.
I like a dead man with a sense of humor.
-[cries out] -[bullets firing]
[explosion]
Well, Pecos Pete,
looks my four eyes beat your six-guns.
Ah-hyuck!
[slams]
Oh, you're not leaving us, are you, Mopalong?
Yep. My work here is done.
Oh, it can't be true!
Please don't go, my little pumpernickel!
Oh, I got to, Miss Lily.
A lot more towns need cleaning up.
Y'all can take care of yourselves now.
-Bye-bye! -So long!
[harmonizing] ♪ Bye-bye ♪
And Mopalong Goofy rolled off into the sunset, Max.
But that wasn't the last of him.
He went on to bigger and better things.
He later won the Stanley Cup,
discovered break dancing,
healed up and taught Beethoven the nose flute.
[sighs] What do you think about wearing glasses now, Max?
Well...
-Wow! -Gawrsh.
Wait'll Peej gets a load of these babies!
[Goofy] Whoa! Max! Max, wait a second!
Max!
♪ Gimme a beat ♪
[theme music playing]
Yeah!