Batman (1966–1968): Season 2, Episode 7 - The Spell of Tut - full transcript
King Tut has relapsed into his kingly ways, this time showing a marked interest in scarab beetles and apothecary potions. Robin infiltrates their hideout to discover their true intentions, relaying what he hears to Batman, but their plan is put in jeopardy when Robin's presence is detected.
A quiet, balmy
midnight in Gotham City.
Not a creature is stirring...
except these creatures.
Though they're barely stirring.
And this creature.
An Egyptian king?
And a tank full of crocodiles?
In our beloved borough?
Yes, my babies.
Sethos, how's my crowning
achievement coming?
Any news from
the Royal Lapidary?
Unless he's behind schedule, he should
be opening that safe at this very moment.
Dig this perfect
blue-white diamond.
Sixty-eight carats if she's an ounce,
or my name ain't Amenophis Tewfik.
The king did not send me, his
Royal Lapidary, for diamonds.
What's going on?
How did you get in here? I can't
have this sort of thing, you know?
I advise you both to remain quite
motionless while I summon the authorities.
Ah. This should be more
to His Kingship's taste.
- What is it?
- A string of amber beads.
Amber beads?
Exactly, Tutly.
With beauties such as these...
His Royal Kingship shall
hatch an infernal scheme...
that within a fortnight should have
all of Gotham City in his royal clutches.
Miss Patrick, a
headache pill, please.
I still don't quite understand how you could
be rendered unconscious by a lead pencil.
Pestle, commissioner.
A lead pestle.
Which my assailants
dropped in their escape.
Hmm.
Uh, no, no, Miss Patrick, I don't
need a pill. It's for Mister, uh...
Oh. Time for your mid-morning
vitamin, commissioner.
Oh, really? Oh, well,
what do you know.
All right, thank you.
Pestle. A lead pestle.
Odd sort of weapon,
don't you agree?
And rather odd assailants, come to think
of it, in their strange Egyptian garbs.
Egyptian?
Well, there can be no
doubt about it, commissioner.
The mad monarch must
once again be on the loose.
And have something even madder
than ever up his fourth-dynasty sleeve.
Gentlemen, I propose
to call Batman.
Yes, commissioner?
A strange and terrible
threat to Gotham City.
An ultimatum from
the remote past.
I think it's King Tut.
We're on our way.
Holy hieroglyphics. This
might mean a battle royal.
Not the first,
Dick, nor the last.
To the Batpoles.
Egyptian garb, amber beads, lead pestles.
Can there be any doubt about it, Boy Wonder?
Only the shadow
of a doubt perhaps...
but certainly worth a
telephone call to Yale University.
That's a sharp idea.
Positively trenchant, Batman.
Miss Patrick.
- Something for you, Batman?
- No. No pills.
No, thank you, my dear. I seldom
resort to medication of any kind.
You see, one's body has remarkable
restorative powers of its own.
Miss Patrick, please, just get Dean Gerber on
the telephone for Batman at Yale University.
Yes, sir.
I would hate to think that our
eminent professor of Egyptology...
had suffered a relapse
into his eerie twin trauma.
You're too soft on hardened
arch criminals, Batman.
But, Chief O'Hara, he really believed
Gotham City was ancient Thebes...
and that he himself was
the reincarnation of King Tut.
Dean Gerber on three.
Uh, you take it, Batman.
Hello, Dean Gerber.
This is Batman.
Batman.
B-A-T-M-A-N.
That's right, Dean
Gerber, in Gotham City.
I'm calling in reference to
your professor of Egyptology.
Oh? When did he
take over the chair?
And his predecessor?
Oh.
Yes, that's what
I was afraid of.
Thank you. Goodbye.
Bad news, Batman?
It couldn't be worse.
The professor fell off the podium during
a teach-in and hasn't been seen since.
Holy sarcophagus. That
means he's a supercrook again.
But what kind of a supercrook would
scoff at genuine diamonds and rubies...
and then have his stooges make
off with a string of amber beads?
Some of them even
with beetles in them.
Beetles, Chief O'Hara?
You mean scarabs
imprisoned in amber?
A lead pestle.
Pestles haven't been made of
lead since the turn of the century.
Does that suggest
something, Batman?
Yes. An apothecary.
A word recently superseded by
that of druggists or pharmacists.
Commissioner, do you have a copy
of the Gotham City classified directory?
Miss Patrick.
No, no pills, please.
Just bring Batman the
classified directory, please.
It would be a pleasure.
I'm afraid the summer relief girl for my
regular secretary Bonnie isn't much of a relief.
She seems eager to
please, a virtue in anyone.
That will be all, Miss
Patrick. Thank you.
Thank you.
Aha. Just as I surmised.
Of the dozens of pharmacies, the
scores of drugstores in Gotham City...
there's only one apothecary.
The Apex Apothecary
Shop in the Pyramid Building.
Doubtless to be
found on the top floor.
Let's pay them a call, Robin.
Meanwhile, in a back room
of the Apex Apothecary Shop...
the demented despot is
engaged in an unholy operation.
What kind of
black magic is this?
An attempt to release the
dead from their ancient tomb?
If you ask me, giving them bugs
the hot-foot ain't gonna do nothing.
Dead is dead, or my name
ain't Amenophis Tewfik.
These are not bugs, Amenophis.
They are scarabs of a species
extinct for at least 4000 years.
Encased in amber, they have
slumbered away the centuries...
in a state of
suspended animation.
And now I shall begin
their shock treatments...
to reactivate their
little nervous systems.
About 100,000 volts, wouldn't
you say, Royal Apothecary?
I concur, doctor.
Power.
- Power.
- Amps.
Amps.
Air. HENCHMAN: Air.
One hundred thousand volts.
One hundred thousand volts.
Oxygen.
Oxygen.
Breathe, my children.
Free yourselves from
the arms of Osiris.
Shake off the shackles
of the sepulcher.
Live.
Live.
Live!
They ain't living.
More oxygen. I'm
going to 200,000 volts.
Failure.
Abject failure.
All my plans...
all my dreams of domination,
crumbled into dust.
I shall end this
miserable existence...
by throwing myself off
the Aswan High Dam.
How about that? That
cockroach is really kicking.
No, it's not. You're just saying
that to make me feel good.
They're all kicking.
Look, Your Kingship, you've got
yourself a batch of real live ones.
I have?
Thank heavens.
I have!
Gee-whiz, Batman, dropping in on
a drugstore might have been easier.
Exercise never
hurt anyone, Robin.
We must always keep the
element of surprise on our side.
What are you doing here?
I might ask you
the same question.
Pursuing enemies of law and
order wherever they happen to be.
Aren't you in the wrong city?
On special assignment for The Daily
Sentinel. You know my aide, Kato.
Robin, the Boy Wonder.
Well, I don't wanna hold you
up from your crime-fighting.
Thank you, and good
luck to you, Mr. Hornet.
Nice to have met you.
Gosh, Batman, what are
they dressed like that for?
They live, they live!
Shh! What's that?
It's the burglar alarm bell
on the main shop window.
Go see who it is.
Don't just stand
there. Go see who it is.
Gentlemen, you might have found
the elevator a little more convenient.
But what form of
curative do you require?
Nothing, thank you.
A nostrum called nothing?
That I do not
carry, sirrah. But...
I do have all
kinds of potions...
lotions...
and notions in stock.
No, nothing.
And, uh, what's
in the back room?
Trolls and ghouls and amulets.
Evil spells that will turn
your bones to celery stalks.
Nevertheless, I think we
should take a look for ourselves.
But, no!
Take another think, Batman.
We took care of them.
We powdered them, boss.
Good. Through the
backdoor, down the fire escape.
Bolt the door behind us.
Here, here.
Too late, Robin. Thanks
to a well-equipped...
apothecary.
Foiled again by
that fat pharaoh.
What's that?
Look. Look.
Holy Frankenstein.
- It's alive.
- Yes.
- But what is it?
- Scarabaeus sacer.
A specie of ancient Egyptian beetle
sacred to the sun god Hymeopolos...
and from which the
term "scarab" is derived.
You should know that, Robin, if
you're up on your studies of Egyptology.
You're right.
Ah. Think of it. Think of it.
An insect like this,
extinct for centuries...
suddenly unleashed
on our community.
I know hieroglyphics
self-taught are a chore, Robin.
But it's a surefire way to unravel
the secrets of the ancient mystics.
You mean you've discovered what
that moonstruck monarch is up to?
I fear so.
Inscribed upon this
ancient papyrus scroll...
is the chemical formula
for abu raubu simbu tu.
Abu what?
Abu raubu simbu tu.
In more modern terms:
CK to the second power
plus OL to the ninth power...
equals KO to the third power
plus 2CL to the fourth power.
CK to the second power?
What kind of equation is that?
In the more modern lexicon of chemistry,
one that has been obsolete for years...
because the most important
ingredient is missing.
Unavailable.
Distilled essence
of scarab lymphs.
- Holy corpuscles.
- Yes.
And this ingredient, combined with
other elements in the chemical formula...
produces a potion capable
of paralyzing the human will.
Tut could put Gotham City under his
power if he can make enough of the stuff.
And get it to the
populous somehow.
- He only has a few resurrected scarabs.
- Unfortunately, Robin...
given the proper climatic conditions,
scarabs are able to multiply a thousand fold.
- Yes, Alfred?
- Just coming to report, sir.
The talking sphinx will be on the
lawn of Wayne Manor within hours.
- Talking sphinx?
- If you remember, Robin...
last year Tut made his royal predictions
through the great stone sphinx...
thus creating
terror in this city.
Oh, of course. How
could I have forgotten?
I recently heard that the
sphinx was being offered for sale.
Sold?
Just when I was going
to have need of it again.
Who purchased
my inscrutable lady?
Millionaire Bruce Wayne.
Yeah, I might have known it.
Sheer spite.
Just because I
kidnapped him last year.
What's he planning to do,
make a reading lamp out of her?
"Mr. Wayne has been
quoted as saying...
he will donate...
this criminal curiosity...
to the Black Museum...
at Scotland Yard."
The Black Museum.
Scotland Yard.
That's the Hall of Fame.
Now I belong to the ages.
Just think of it.
Cheek to jowl with such
great ones of crimes:
Landru, Jack the
Ripper, Lizzie Borden.
- And the Lavender Hill Mob.
- Ha, ha, yes.
Now, I need my unfathomable female
here and now for my royal predictions.
After I'm crowned king of Gotham City,
we can think about the Black Museum.
Oh, we didn't think of it,
Your Kingship. Mister...
I know it, Sethos!
But Mr. Bruce Wayne may have
second thoughts coming very shortly.
When night descends on Wayne
Manor, you too will descend...
and pinch my sphinx.
- Shh. Quietly.
- There's only one light in the house, upstairs.
I don't think anyone's home.
Sure. This sphinx
pinch is a cinch.
Push.
Well, Alfred...
it looks like my young ward and I
are going fishing again for the big one.
Welcome home,
my inscrutable lady.
Soon I'll have a new
prophecy for you to announce.
It's Tut all right, Batman.
I think we're in some
kind of greenhouse.
I know, chum. I've been
getting your messages.
I've tracked you to the old,
abandoned Gizeh Gardens...
at the corner of
Elm and Harvard.
I'll see what else I can find out. You
may wanna call Commissioner Gordon.
Your Majesty.
It worked, Your Majesty.
The experiment is a success.
It worked. Ha-ha-ha!
It worked!
Praise to the sacred baboons.
The cow goddess of Hathor.
Osiris, the holy one.
Oh, yes, yes.
And praise me too.
For the first time since the
golden age of Ramses Junior...
there exists the elixir
of abu raubu simbu tu.
Now may I go back to
my apothecary shop?
Don't be a booby.
There's still work to be done.
First, you must crystallize this
lovely nectar into a powder...
and then insert the
powder into a capsule.
Like so.
And you, Cleo, my lovely
queen of the Nile in exile...
you know what to
do then, don't you?
Yeah, Tut-tut.
I slip it to Commissioner Gordon
instead of his mid-morning vitamin A.
Batman, you better...
That couldn't have made a noise.
I haven't hooked up a
loud speaker system.
Well, I sure heard something,
boss, or my name ain't Ameno... Ooh.
Perhaps we should take
a look, Your Kingship.
The sphinx is hollow,
but it may not be empty.
Good idea, Royal Lapidary.
Release the hidden spring.
We've lost him. He must have
dropped the Bat-radio. It's sensitive.
- Whatever will you do now, sir?
- There's always the Bat-geiger Counter.
Good.
It's picking him up already.
How?
I planted radioactive
Bat-pellets in his belt.
Now, if I can just synchronize
this miniaturized model...
with the parent
Bat-geiger Counter...
ah! We should have
no trouble finding him.
Drag him out.
On your knees, Helot.
On your knees before
the almighty pharaoh.
Never.
What? Never?
You dare to match
your will against mine?
Give him a shot of your bug juice, boss.
That will take the wind out of his sails.
Good idea, Tutling.
We have need of a guinea pig.
Proceed, Royal Apothecary.
Get him, get him!
Get him. Get him!
Watch out for the scarabs!
All right, my young testee.
It will only sting for a minute.
Then your cares
will be over forever.
No!
Holy jawbreaker.
I told you, my lovelies,
if all went well...
you'd soon be dining on something
better than frogs and fishes.
Not much better, granted,
but he'll do for a snack.
I hope you all have
healthy appetites.
Eat your din-din.
midnight in Gotham City.
Not a creature is stirring...
except these creatures.
Though they're barely stirring.
And this creature.
An Egyptian king?
And a tank full of crocodiles?
In our beloved borough?
Yes, my babies.
Sethos, how's my crowning
achievement coming?
Any news from
the Royal Lapidary?
Unless he's behind schedule, he should
be opening that safe at this very moment.
Dig this perfect
blue-white diamond.
Sixty-eight carats if she's an ounce,
or my name ain't Amenophis Tewfik.
The king did not send me, his
Royal Lapidary, for diamonds.
What's going on?
How did you get in here? I can't
have this sort of thing, you know?
I advise you both to remain quite
motionless while I summon the authorities.
Ah. This should be more
to His Kingship's taste.
- What is it?
- A string of amber beads.
Amber beads?
Exactly, Tutly.
With beauties such as these...
His Royal Kingship shall
hatch an infernal scheme...
that within a fortnight should have
all of Gotham City in his royal clutches.
Miss Patrick, a
headache pill, please.
I still don't quite understand how you could
be rendered unconscious by a lead pencil.
Pestle, commissioner.
A lead pestle.
Which my assailants
dropped in their escape.
Hmm.
Uh, no, no, Miss Patrick, I don't
need a pill. It's for Mister, uh...
Oh. Time for your mid-morning
vitamin, commissioner.
Oh, really? Oh, well,
what do you know.
All right, thank you.
Pestle. A lead pestle.
Odd sort of weapon,
don't you agree?
And rather odd assailants, come to think
of it, in their strange Egyptian garbs.
Egyptian?
Well, there can be no
doubt about it, commissioner.
The mad monarch must
once again be on the loose.
And have something even madder
than ever up his fourth-dynasty sleeve.
Gentlemen, I propose
to call Batman.
Yes, commissioner?
A strange and terrible
threat to Gotham City.
An ultimatum from
the remote past.
I think it's King Tut.
We're on our way.
Holy hieroglyphics. This
might mean a battle royal.
Not the first,
Dick, nor the last.
To the Batpoles.
Egyptian garb, amber beads, lead pestles.
Can there be any doubt about it, Boy Wonder?
Only the shadow
of a doubt perhaps...
but certainly worth a
telephone call to Yale University.
That's a sharp idea.
Positively trenchant, Batman.
Miss Patrick.
- Something for you, Batman?
- No. No pills.
No, thank you, my dear. I seldom
resort to medication of any kind.
You see, one's body has remarkable
restorative powers of its own.
Miss Patrick, please, just get Dean Gerber on
the telephone for Batman at Yale University.
Yes, sir.
I would hate to think that our
eminent professor of Egyptology...
had suffered a relapse
into his eerie twin trauma.
You're too soft on hardened
arch criminals, Batman.
But, Chief O'Hara, he really believed
Gotham City was ancient Thebes...
and that he himself was
the reincarnation of King Tut.
Dean Gerber on three.
Uh, you take it, Batman.
Hello, Dean Gerber.
This is Batman.
Batman.
B-A-T-M-A-N.
That's right, Dean
Gerber, in Gotham City.
I'm calling in reference to
your professor of Egyptology.
Oh? When did he
take over the chair?
And his predecessor?
Oh.
Yes, that's what
I was afraid of.
Thank you. Goodbye.
Bad news, Batman?
It couldn't be worse.
The professor fell off the podium during
a teach-in and hasn't been seen since.
Holy sarcophagus. That
means he's a supercrook again.
But what kind of a supercrook would
scoff at genuine diamonds and rubies...
and then have his stooges make
off with a string of amber beads?
Some of them even
with beetles in them.
Beetles, Chief O'Hara?
You mean scarabs
imprisoned in amber?
A lead pestle.
Pestles haven't been made of
lead since the turn of the century.
Does that suggest
something, Batman?
Yes. An apothecary.
A word recently superseded by
that of druggists or pharmacists.
Commissioner, do you have a copy
of the Gotham City classified directory?
Miss Patrick.
No, no pills, please.
Just bring Batman the
classified directory, please.
It would be a pleasure.
I'm afraid the summer relief girl for my
regular secretary Bonnie isn't much of a relief.
She seems eager to
please, a virtue in anyone.
That will be all, Miss
Patrick. Thank you.
Thank you.
Aha. Just as I surmised.
Of the dozens of pharmacies, the
scores of drugstores in Gotham City...
there's only one apothecary.
The Apex Apothecary
Shop in the Pyramid Building.
Doubtless to be
found on the top floor.
Let's pay them a call, Robin.
Meanwhile, in a back room
of the Apex Apothecary Shop...
the demented despot is
engaged in an unholy operation.
What kind of
black magic is this?
An attempt to release the
dead from their ancient tomb?
If you ask me, giving them bugs
the hot-foot ain't gonna do nothing.
Dead is dead, or my name
ain't Amenophis Tewfik.
These are not bugs, Amenophis.
They are scarabs of a species
extinct for at least 4000 years.
Encased in amber, they have
slumbered away the centuries...
in a state of
suspended animation.
And now I shall begin
their shock treatments...
to reactivate their
little nervous systems.
About 100,000 volts, wouldn't
you say, Royal Apothecary?
I concur, doctor.
Power.
- Power.
- Amps.
Amps.
Air. HENCHMAN: Air.
One hundred thousand volts.
One hundred thousand volts.
Oxygen.
Oxygen.
Breathe, my children.
Free yourselves from
the arms of Osiris.
Shake off the shackles
of the sepulcher.
Live.
Live.
Live!
They ain't living.
More oxygen. I'm
going to 200,000 volts.
Failure.
Abject failure.
All my plans...
all my dreams of domination,
crumbled into dust.
I shall end this
miserable existence...
by throwing myself off
the Aswan High Dam.
How about that? That
cockroach is really kicking.
No, it's not. You're just saying
that to make me feel good.
They're all kicking.
Look, Your Kingship, you've got
yourself a batch of real live ones.
I have?
Thank heavens.
I have!
Gee-whiz, Batman, dropping in on
a drugstore might have been easier.
Exercise never
hurt anyone, Robin.
We must always keep the
element of surprise on our side.
What are you doing here?
I might ask you
the same question.
Pursuing enemies of law and
order wherever they happen to be.
Aren't you in the wrong city?
On special assignment for The Daily
Sentinel. You know my aide, Kato.
Robin, the Boy Wonder.
Well, I don't wanna hold you
up from your crime-fighting.
Thank you, and good
luck to you, Mr. Hornet.
Nice to have met you.
Gosh, Batman, what are
they dressed like that for?
They live, they live!
Shh! What's that?
It's the burglar alarm bell
on the main shop window.
Go see who it is.
Don't just stand
there. Go see who it is.
Gentlemen, you might have found
the elevator a little more convenient.
But what form of
curative do you require?
Nothing, thank you.
A nostrum called nothing?
That I do not
carry, sirrah. But...
I do have all
kinds of potions...
lotions...
and notions in stock.
No, nothing.
And, uh, what's
in the back room?
Trolls and ghouls and amulets.
Evil spells that will turn
your bones to celery stalks.
Nevertheless, I think we
should take a look for ourselves.
But, no!
Take another think, Batman.
We took care of them.
We powdered them, boss.
Good. Through the
backdoor, down the fire escape.
Bolt the door behind us.
Here, here.
Too late, Robin. Thanks
to a well-equipped...
apothecary.
Foiled again by
that fat pharaoh.
What's that?
Look. Look.
Holy Frankenstein.
- It's alive.
- Yes.
- But what is it?
- Scarabaeus sacer.
A specie of ancient Egyptian beetle
sacred to the sun god Hymeopolos...
and from which the
term "scarab" is derived.
You should know that, Robin, if
you're up on your studies of Egyptology.
You're right.
Ah. Think of it. Think of it.
An insect like this,
extinct for centuries...
suddenly unleashed
on our community.
I know hieroglyphics
self-taught are a chore, Robin.
But it's a surefire way to unravel
the secrets of the ancient mystics.
You mean you've discovered what
that moonstruck monarch is up to?
I fear so.
Inscribed upon this
ancient papyrus scroll...
is the chemical formula
for abu raubu simbu tu.
Abu what?
Abu raubu simbu tu.
In more modern terms:
CK to the second power
plus OL to the ninth power...
equals KO to the third power
plus 2CL to the fourth power.
CK to the second power?
What kind of equation is that?
In the more modern lexicon of chemistry,
one that has been obsolete for years...
because the most important
ingredient is missing.
Unavailable.
Distilled essence
of scarab lymphs.
- Holy corpuscles.
- Yes.
And this ingredient, combined with
other elements in the chemical formula...
produces a potion capable
of paralyzing the human will.
Tut could put Gotham City under his
power if he can make enough of the stuff.
And get it to the
populous somehow.
- He only has a few resurrected scarabs.
- Unfortunately, Robin...
given the proper climatic conditions,
scarabs are able to multiply a thousand fold.
- Yes, Alfred?
- Just coming to report, sir.
The talking sphinx will be on the
lawn of Wayne Manor within hours.
- Talking sphinx?
- If you remember, Robin...
last year Tut made his royal predictions
through the great stone sphinx...
thus creating
terror in this city.
Oh, of course. How
could I have forgotten?
I recently heard that the
sphinx was being offered for sale.
Sold?
Just when I was going
to have need of it again.
Who purchased
my inscrutable lady?
Millionaire Bruce Wayne.
Yeah, I might have known it.
Sheer spite.
Just because I
kidnapped him last year.
What's he planning to do,
make a reading lamp out of her?
"Mr. Wayne has been
quoted as saying...
he will donate...
this criminal curiosity...
to the Black Museum...
at Scotland Yard."
The Black Museum.
Scotland Yard.
That's the Hall of Fame.
Now I belong to the ages.
Just think of it.
Cheek to jowl with such
great ones of crimes:
Landru, Jack the
Ripper, Lizzie Borden.
- And the Lavender Hill Mob.
- Ha, ha, yes.
Now, I need my unfathomable female
here and now for my royal predictions.
After I'm crowned king of Gotham City,
we can think about the Black Museum.
Oh, we didn't think of it,
Your Kingship. Mister...
I know it, Sethos!
But Mr. Bruce Wayne may have
second thoughts coming very shortly.
When night descends on Wayne
Manor, you too will descend...
and pinch my sphinx.
- Shh. Quietly.
- There's only one light in the house, upstairs.
I don't think anyone's home.
Sure. This sphinx
pinch is a cinch.
Push.
Well, Alfred...
it looks like my young ward and I
are going fishing again for the big one.
Welcome home,
my inscrutable lady.
Soon I'll have a new
prophecy for you to announce.
It's Tut all right, Batman.
I think we're in some
kind of greenhouse.
I know, chum. I've been
getting your messages.
I've tracked you to the old,
abandoned Gizeh Gardens...
at the corner of
Elm and Harvard.
I'll see what else I can find out. You
may wanna call Commissioner Gordon.
Your Majesty.
It worked, Your Majesty.
The experiment is a success.
It worked. Ha-ha-ha!
It worked!
Praise to the sacred baboons.
The cow goddess of Hathor.
Osiris, the holy one.
Oh, yes, yes.
And praise me too.
For the first time since the
golden age of Ramses Junior...
there exists the elixir
of abu raubu simbu tu.
Now may I go back to
my apothecary shop?
Don't be a booby.
There's still work to be done.
First, you must crystallize this
lovely nectar into a powder...
and then insert the
powder into a capsule.
Like so.
And you, Cleo, my lovely
queen of the Nile in exile...
you know what to
do then, don't you?
Yeah, Tut-tut.
I slip it to Commissioner Gordon
instead of his mid-morning vitamin A.
Batman, you better...
That couldn't have made a noise.
I haven't hooked up a
loud speaker system.
Well, I sure heard something,
boss, or my name ain't Ameno... Ooh.
Perhaps we should take
a look, Your Kingship.
The sphinx is hollow,
but it may not be empty.
Good idea, Royal Lapidary.
Release the hidden spring.
We've lost him. He must have
dropped the Bat-radio. It's sensitive.
- Whatever will you do now, sir?
- There's always the Bat-geiger Counter.
Good.
It's picking him up already.
How?
I planted radioactive
Bat-pellets in his belt.
Now, if I can just synchronize
this miniaturized model...
with the parent
Bat-geiger Counter...
ah! We should have
no trouble finding him.
Drag him out.
On your knees, Helot.
On your knees before
the almighty pharaoh.
Never.
What? Never?
You dare to match
your will against mine?
Give him a shot of your bug juice, boss.
That will take the wind out of his sails.
Good idea, Tutling.
We have need of a guinea pig.
Proceed, Royal Apothecary.
Get him, get him!
Get him. Get him!
Watch out for the scarabs!
All right, my young testee.
It will only sting for a minute.
Then your cares
will be over forever.
No!
Holy jawbreaker.
I told you, my lovelies,
if all went well...
you'd soon be dining on something
better than frogs and fishes.
Not much better, granted,
but he'll do for a snack.
I hope you all have
healthy appetites.
Eat your din-din.