Hans: I am Hans.
Franz: And I am Franz.
Together: And we just want to.. Pump.. [clap] ..you up!
Hans: Alright. But before we can pump you up tonight, we have to answer a piece of viewer mail.
Franz: Ya. Ya. This is a letter we received from a Bill Tompkins. I'll only read an excerpt, so I don't go into his loser details. "Dear Hans & Franz: I have recently seen your.. mo-.. mo-"
Hans: Moronic.
Franz: "..Your moronic show, and have wondered why you don't open your own gym. Maybe you are too stupid." [ crumples letter ] You know, maybe you thought this letter would make us angry; but it only makes us sad.
Hans: Really, ya. We are sad, you know, because anyone who calls us "stupid" is really just jealous. Because their girlfriend looks at us, then looks at him, and realzies she's cuddling up with a little girly-man!
Franz: Ya. Ya, girly-man. Hear me now and believe me later - but don't think about it ever, because, if you try to think, you might cause a flabulance!
Hans: Ya!
Franz: Poor little girly-man, alone in his girly-house!
Hans: Sorry, Mr. Girly-Man, but here's a treat for your girlfriend!
[ Hans & Franz flex their muscles egotistically ]
Hans: Alright.
Franz: Oh, and thank you so much for the letter. [ put crumpled letter in his mouth and swallows ]
Hans: Ya! Ya, don't think for a minute he's not eating it, because beleive me he is!
Franz: That was one delicious piece of girly-man.
Hans: Ya! You know, we're not here to eat. We're here to..
Together: Pump.. [ clap ] ..you up!
Franz: Oh, and by the way, we'd like to take this time to announce the opening of our new gym in Wayne, New Jersey.
Hans: That's right. Ya! It's called the Pumpatorium! Ya! And soon you will meet Victor. He manages our new gym.
Franz: Ya, you know, because we don't have time to babysit you losers. But believe me, we have trained him well.
Hans: Ya! And he's one tough biscuit, believe me! Ya, come on out here, Victor!
Franz: Victor, come on out!
[ Victor runs onto the set ]
Victor: Hey, Hans! How you doing, Franz?
Franz: Yes! do you ever show pity on those flabby losers?
Victor: No! These losers, they need discipline! They're fat, lazy pigs, who should be only dead! You hear me? Dead! Dead! Dead!
Hans: Ya! Ya! Alright. Interesting. Now, tell us, Victor, what would you do with a girly-man who wrote a baby letter?
Victor: Here me now, and here me now, girly-man! Don't be thinking I can't come to your house, and pummel your head with a 2x4 and knock some sense into your fat, lazy lard-filled ass! You should be dead! You hear me! Dead, dead, dead, dead!!
[ Hans & Franz subdue Victor ]
Hans: Alright. Alright.
Franz: Enough talk.
Together: We're not here to talk. We're here to pump.. [ clap ] ..you up!
Hans: Alright, Victor. Alright, thanks for coming down, Victor.
Victor: Okay, I'll see you guys later. Oh, by the way. Your cousin Arnold Schwartzenegger came by today.
Hans: Oh, don't-don't-don't be joking us.
Franz: Ya. You'd better not be pulling my rock-hard leg.
Victor: He did! He said he might drop by. Alright, he might see your show. Okay, see you later! [ exits set ]
Franz: Arnold?
Hans: Coming here?
Franz: Today?
Hans: Today? Oh..
Franz: Oh..
Hans: Oh, I don't believe this!
Franz: We are not properly pumped up!
[ Hans & Franz desperately start flexing and working out their muscles ]
Hans: I don't believe this! Oh no, I can't believe it!
[ Arnold Schwartzenegger enters the set, his pecs bouncing in rhythm ]
Arnold Schwartzenegger: Hello, hello. I am back!
Hans: Oh, Arnold, I can't believe how properly pumped up you really are!
Franz: Ya! You are the embodiment of perfect pumpitude!
Arnold Schwartzenegger: No, no, no.. relax, fellows, relax.
Hans: Hey, Arnold, look at this! [ flexes ]
Franz: Ya! Lok at this! [ flexes more vigorously ]
Arnold Schwartzenegger: Oh, you guys make me sick. [ mimes vomiting ] This is what you have to do. Like this [ demonstrates the proper way to flex his muscles ] That's the way to do it! Look at you guys, how pitiful losers you are! You know something? I hate the way you guys talk! What's the matter with you? I mean, I sent you over here from Austria, to become real hard-core terminators, and look what you are - little termites! I wanted you to become real running men; but you are girly-men. Oh, come on, you make me sick! And look at those legs, they look like little skinny sticks! And those buttocks. Soft, like marshmallow. You guys are lucky you don't have a campfire here in the background. And believe me- [ sees sullen faces ] What's the matter?
Franz: It's no use, Arnold. Compared to you.. we are losers. And not even the grown-up kind, the little baby losers.
Hans: Ya. You know, you could very easily flick us with your ltitlest finger, and send us flying across the room until we landed in our own baby poop.
Arnold Schwartzenegger: I know. I know, you're right. But don't be downing yourself too much now. Listen to me now, and beleive me later: it doesn't matter how much you pump up those muscles, as long as you reach the full pumptential.
Franz: Oh.. okay..
Hans: Ya, I think I understand, Arnold. 'Sank you.
Franz: Ya. Ya, Arnold. You've given us something to hear now, and something to think about later.
Arnold Schwartzenegger: Ya. But now, hear this: "Live, from New York, it's Saturday.. [ claps ] ..Night!"
Thanks for posting that. It is still so funny. I loved it!!