The Real Ghostbusters

Luigi, jump!

Woah!

Ghostbusters!

Yeah!

And me! And me!

It's another steamy one in the Big Apple.

Mercury headed over 100-degrees.

Can you believe that?

And that's bad news for your nose, folks.

Because this is Day 10 of New York's latest garbage strike.

And I'm telling you people it stinks out there.

Hey, when is it all going to end?

Guys, you just killed Janine's radio.

Well, at least we don't have to listen

to that DJ talking about eating garbage anymore.

Flies, 26. Ghostbusters, 0.

Flies win. Yay! Yay! Yay!

Who's side are you on, Spud?

Next thing we know, you'd be putting out food for them.

Yeah! Yeah!

Excuse me.

Hey, Flyzie-wisey-wisey.

So cute.

Good idea, Slimer.

Better there than on my face.

We wouldn't have any flies if the windows were closed.

What a day for the air-conditioner to break down.

Janine sure picked the right time to visit Alaska.

We haven't had a call all day.

It's even too hot for the ghosts.

Yeah, too hot for ghosts.

Just as well.

Only a complete and utter fool would go Ghostbusting in this heat.

Ah! What a perfect day to grab a ghost.

Now that I've finished my patented Ghost-sucker,

I can finally capture that protozoic low-life called Slimer.

And analyze him bit by cushy bit.

Right, Elizabeth?

Capturing that ectoplasmic slime ball

with my brilliant invention will make me the toast

of the freelance scientific community!

Oops.

My pet seems to be stuck.

I must have forgotten to grease the joints.

Oh, there's no reason to be upset, Elizabeth.

Mmm, my machine probably will rid you

of any little doggy vermin hiding in your fur.

Uh, stop! Oh!

Get down, girl.

Hey, hey, I'm a scientist.

I'm not a chew toy, boy, you precocious poodle!

Down, Elizabeth.

Ugh, we're in here, Elizabeth.

No.

But we must incorporate clever disguises.

So those feeble-minded Ghostbusters don't get suspicious.

I'm word to scientific immortality.

Heal, Elizabeth.

Ouch!

Must you take me so literally?

Ugh. Made it.

Whoa. What an entrance.

I'm right where I wanted to be.

Is this perfect or what?

Boy, oh, boy.

What a boo-cat.

Nothing like New York City in the summer.

I'll get it!

I hope it's the air-conditioning man.

I hope it's Frosty the Snowman.

Oh, hello Ghost-fellows.

I represent the big bibulator vacuum cleaner company.

And you have been randomly selected for a free demonstration.

We don't want any.

Allow me to simulate a filthy hovel.

Huh? What?

Peter, that's Dweeb.

Dweeb?

You mean that second string scientist

who's always trying to snag you?

Here's of course...

Guys, that's no salesman.

It's Dweeb.

Dweeb!

Professor Dweeb to you.

And I come in the name of science.

Slimer is mine!

No, I...Slimer not yours!

Hey, turn that thing off, nail-head.

Help, Egon!

Now, see here, Dweeb.

If my glasses!

Slimer out of here...

No, stop!

You can't escape me, you little gob of goo.

You forget I am a scientist.

With a minor in business administration.

Help! Stop, Egon!

Get Dweeb!

It's impossible for me to understand

how a mental midget like Dweeb

could have us at such a disadvantage.

Simple! He wants Slimer

and he's going to suck up everything in the place until he gets him.

Then let's help Dweeb out.

What?

Cheater.

Not Slimer, all the other stuff.

Have a seat, Dweeb.

Not the chair.

What's a chair without a desk?

Like a man without a country.

Lolly-gag!

It's stuck again, Elizabeth.

Elizabeth?

I...I'd like to thank

the freelance scientist society.

No! Wait!

Elizabeth, is that you?

No, Elizabeth. Heel, heel.

Have a nice day, Dweeb!

Puppy, I am giving you a piece of my mind!

Don't worry, I'll reverse the suction

and you'll be out in a jiffy.

Elizabeth?

I've got you.

No! I've got you!

Got you.

You and me got some business to talk over, Dweeb.

Oh, holy helitosis.

I'm coming, Elizabeth.

I said we got to talk business.

Are you out of your tiny ectoplasmic mind?

I am a scientist.

I do not talk business with ghosts.

Well, too bad.

Because I can give you Slimer on a silver platter.

Oh, you can?

Who better to catch a little ghost

than a big ghost!

And all I want in exchange

is my poor baby brother, the Sleaze.

Who is stuck in the Ghostbusters' dark old containment unit.

Oh, you poor pathetic poltergeist.

Although I find you utterly repulsive.

Why thanks, Dweeb.

Your offer is intriguing.

I assume you have a plan.

Do I have a plan?

Scope this out.

Yay! Slimer Butter!

I'll get it.

Ghostbuster Central!

It's weird buggered Harry.

Uh, and it ate my cat and my shoes.

Uh, please hurry.

Uh-huh. Uh-huh. OK.

Oh, that's their alarm.

They fell for it, hook, line and stinker.

Or, uh, I mean, sinker.

Yeah.

Uh, Phase One completed.

On to Phase Two.

I'm out of here.

See you in Jersey.

What a smell.

What is this place?

It's the Fat Cat cat-food factory.

I'll never let a cat kiss me again.

Place is deserted.

I wonder where everybody went?

They must have closed the plant

because of the garbage strike.

Witness the plethora of bad garbage.

"Plethora?"

It means full or in excess.

I know what it means, Egon.

I just think it's a wimpy word.

If the plant's closed, who called us?

A weird lady.

Man, oh, man, what's that?

That's your standard overheated garbage bag

that's about to go boom!

That's not garbage.