Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

- But, George, they're Elroy's friends. - Jane, honey.
...to my delicate $500,000 ReferentiaI UniversaI DigitaI Indexer?
- Gosh, Pop. That's not very far. - That's right. We'll be there in no time.
But we'll take a chance. He may not be too busy.
Let me see. Okay, R.U.D.I. boy. I knock with six.
Honey, you know I don't like calls during work.
Watch. Geronimo!
- On the rim of that crater. - That's not a crater, Mr. Jetson!
Overnight hike!
Aloha, auf Wiedersehen, arrivederci, and hasta la vista.
- But we get a bellyache - We're the Space Cubs of Troop 54
Jetson!
Well, it worked. Tomorrow, I'll talk to you about that early vacation you wanted.
- And another. And another. - Hey, what do you think you're doing there?
- You come from around here? - Lived here most of my life.
"Decided not to wait for you to save us, so returned to camp ourselves.
- No good. I've got three. - Oh, no. Not again.
...five, and so forth.
It looks like you men are lost, but don't panic.
What kind of homework are they handing out?
"Moon Port. " "Moonhattan Tilton HoteI."
Ttttttt Zxxdddd1123
But I thought you liked Stanley. He's a big basketball hero, isn't he?
Hey, what troop is that, Pop?
Okay, Cubs. Prepare for weightlessness.
- You were, Big Buddy! - I was? I was?
- Oh, George. Isn't that a shame? - Now, now, now. Forget it, Jane.
Oh. No, Elroy, I can't tie those knots.
It says "Troop Zlgph, Martian and Chowder Club. "
All the space truck drivers stop there.
Oh, that's the First Aid Merit Badge for soothing Mr. Jetson's hysterics.