Honey, I Shrunk the Kids Page #2

Synopsis: Wayne Szalinski is your average "nutty scientist", working on a top secret machine that shrinks objects. When it unexpectedly starts working, he's so amazed he forgets to tell his family to be careful. And when they wander into his lab...
Director(s): Joe Johnston
Production: Disney
  Won 1 BAFTA Film Award. Another 1 win & 10 nominations.
 
IMDB:
6.3
Metacritic:
63
Rotten Tomatoes:
75%
PG
Year:
1989
93 min
3,473 Views


If you work out for three months...

you will be throwing farther,

you will be running faster...

and you will be hitting harder

than anybody else on that team.

Go on. Try it. Go ahead.

Um, Dad, you... you know that

weights aren't my thing.

Fishing isn't your thing.

Weights aren't your thing.

Just what is your thing?

I don't know, but I'll

keep you posted, okay?

Fine. Until you do,

you're trying these.

And you're coming fishing

with the family. Is that clear?

I can't hear you!

Yes, sir.

Better.

Now, uh, lift with your legs,

not with your back.

What am I doing wrong, Spike?

Russell, you're not smoking

a cigarette, are you?

No, dear.

You know I've given that up.

- Your stuff all loaded?

- Ready to fire.

- Got the best spot on the lake.

You looking forward to it?

- Tubular!

He's only 12, and he's already

thinking about construction.

- Why can't Russell be more like that?

- Oh, honey, just give him a chance.

Ron Thompson at the plate. Bottom of

the ninth. It's a clutch situation.

Here's the pitch.

Oh, he's swinging like a rusty gate.

He pumps once, pumps twice. Ohh!

He's never been good

on the high outside pitch.

Here it comes. Fastball.

His bread and butter.

Grand...

slam.

Hey, hey, I didn't do it.

- Come on, you dope.

- Hey, nobody has to know.

Nobody saw it but you.

Let's negotiate this.

I'm your brother, Russ.

You're not supposed to fink

on your own brother!

Turn me in, and I'll tell all that

you spend your allowance on... Uuh!

Come on, Russ!

Look, either you tell them

or I tell them, okay?

Okay. You tell 'em.

- Aren't you in the wrong yard?

- Listen, nerd face...

- Tell them.

- What's going on?

- Hi. Um...

l-I'm Russ Thompson

from next door, uh...

Um...

Uh, my brother has something to

tell you, or else I could tell her.

Okay! See, I was playing

with my ball, right?

Well... Well, actually,

it's not my ball exactly.

- It's Charlie Sudzen's.

- Just tell her what you did.

It never would've happened

if their house wasn't so close!

- He hit a baseball

through your attic window.

- He what?

It shouldn't have been closed

in the first place. It's a nice day!

- We'll get it fixed, okay? We'll take

it out of his allowance, all right?

- My allowance? Dream on.

Okay, we'll just have

Dad pay for it, huh?

We'll take it out of my allowance.

Gimme my ball back.

Until you pay,

no man shall pass.

- You got nothin' to say

about it, space boy!

- Cool it!

Nick, take him upstairs and get him

his ball. And clean up the mess.

- What?

- Do it, Nick. I don't

have time to mess around.

Come on. This is what's wrong with

the American system of justice.

So, y... You like to dance, huh?

- How do you know?

- Well...

- You could see me?

- No.

Uh, no, l... Yeah, I could.

But I wasn't watching you. L...

Awesome.

So your Dad's still in contact

with his home planet.

And given that my machine can

substantially reduce...

the size of bulky payloads

and fuel supplies...

the savings to the space program

would be staggering.

Mr. Szalinski, are you

trying to tell me that...

suddenly size is

no longer relative?

Well, that's right, Professor

Frederickson, that all matter is...

made up of not only density,

but of empty space.

And if we can proportionally reduce

the amount of empty space...

in any given object, we can

thereby shrink the object.

Uh-huh. Where's your proof?

When Einstein came up with

the atomic bomb, did they ask

him to prove that it worked?

You, Mr. Szalinski,

are hardly Einstein.

- I picked a name.

- You have, however,

managed to shrink one thing...

the size of this audience.

Gentlemen, ladies, I don't know

about you, but I'm going to lunch.

Wayne. Wayne.

- Oh, uh, hi, Dr. Maynard.

- Don't take it too hard, Wayne.

It will take time to convince

people without proof.

I appreciate it.

Thanks a lot.

By the way, you were right

about the electric flea collar.

The extension cord was a bad idea.

What could be taking them so long?

I am not missing the mall today.

Nick!

- Nick...

- Ron?

- If you guys are hiding up here...

it's not funny.

Nick, you know what Dad said.

You're not supposed

to be playing up here.

Where are we?

God, what happened?

- Amy!

- Russ!

Amy!

- Nicky.

- Ron?

- Nick, what happened?

- We're all the size of boogers!

Be quiet, Quark!

- Nick, what did you do?

- Me? It was his ball!

- Shut up, wimp!

- We have to get Dad.

He'll know what to do.

Nick, if that's Paul Tate,

I'm gonna kill you.

Can somebody get that?

- What's that?

- It's Dad's thinking couch.

Amy? Nick?

Hello?

It's not for you.

What is it, Quark?

Nick!

- Listen.

- Are you guys home?

Sounds like Dad.

He'll fix us.

Mr. Szalinski! Up here!

- Up here, Dad!

- Quick, over there by the door.

- Okay? Get that side.

- Anybody up there?

- Nick!

- Get off and give us a hand!

Nick? Amy?

Hey, Amy, your date's here.

- Oh, gross.

- Watch out for the crack!

Hurry up. He's coming!

- Right here!

- Szalinski!

- Dad! Dad!

- Mr. Szalinski!

- Down here!

- Help!

- Help!

- Help!

- Help!

Where's my couch?

What is he, deaf?

Don't you get it?

We're too small. He can't hear us.

Dad!

I don't believe this.

What a day.

Ow!

This is all your fault!

- Five years...

- No, Dad, it works!

- Szalinski, don't do it!

- No! Mr. Szalinski!

- Dad!

You don't even work!

Don't!

- Run!

- Run.

Run, Nicky! Keep up!

Dad!

Stay there!

There's glass everywhere here now.

- No!

- Dad! Run, Nicky!

No! Back the other way!

Go!

- Help!

- Help!

No!

Help! Somebody!

Not now, Quark.

Szalinski, do they pick up your trash

the same day they get ours?

Ow! Nick?

- I'm over here.

- Then whose arm is this?

I don't know, but I'm not waitin'

around to find out. Move over.

- Ow! Watch it!

- Look out.

Oh, my God.

Reminds me of the backyard.

Something tells me we're

not going fishing this weekend.

- That should make you happy.

- Blow it out your shorts, Ron.

Dad can fix us, right, Nick?

L... I think so.

- Oh, great.

- We just have to get back to the house.

I'm never goin' back to your house!

I'm goin' home.

Come on, Russ.

- Russ?

- Tell me the truth.

- Could your Dad help us?

- Russ! We're supposed to go fishing!

Yeah, right!

How are you going, as bait?

What a witch!

Russ, you comin' down, or what?

Well, we can't stay here.

Well, I think we should

stick together.

Well, come on.

Nicky!

I don't think we're

in Kansas anymore, Toto.

I don't think we're in

the food chain anymore, Dorothy.

Come on, Ron.

We're gonna go with them.

What? You let a girl

tell you what to do?

Look, Ron, down here,

you're gonna listen to me.

From now on, you're gonna

do what I say! Run!

Great Sir Russell Thompson,

stalking the rogue butterfly.

Knock it off, Ron.

We're now a quarter

of an inch tall...

and 64 feet from the house.

That's the equivalent

of 3.2 miles.

That's a long way,

even for a man of science.

Nick, I've got six hours to get home,

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote

Ed Naha

Ed Naha is an American science fiction and mystery writer and producer. He was born June 10, 1950 in the town of Linden, New Jersey. His first known publication was artwork that appeared in the first issue of Modern Monsters magazine, dated June 1966. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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