All language subtitles for Night.Gallery.S01E06.1080p.BluRay.x264-PFa-7

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to
an exhibit of the eerie and the oddball.

Our first offering
this evening, faces...

Paint, pigment
and desperation...

The quiet desperation of men over 40
who keep hearing footsteps behind them...

and are torn between a fear and a
compulsion to look over their shoulders.

The painting is called They're
Tearing Down Tim Riley's Bar.

Pritkin's Plastic Products.

Hold the line, please.
May I help you, sir?

- Randy not back yet?
- No, he had several meetings outside.

With several outside martinis.

When's he due back, Miss Alcott? I have
to talk to him about the Carstair order.

I'm right on top of
that myself, Mr. Pritkin.

I can give you any
information you need, sir.

I thought Lane was handling that. I've
pretty much taken it over, Mr. Pritkin.

Got a full report on my desk.
Just give me a minute, and I'll get it.

Where is he, Miss Alcott?

Well, he, uh, mentioned several
meetings outside. I've no doubt.

Most of his business of
late seems to be outside.

Tell him I want to see him
when he gets back. Yes, sir.

I've got the Carstair material right here,
Mr. Pritkin. Bring it into the office.

- Mr. Pritkin.
- Yes?

- Today is Mr. Lane's 25th anniversary.
- His anniversary? The man's been a widower for 18 years.

Twenty-five years
with the company.

- I wasn't aware of that.
- I only broach it, sir, because,

maybe someone... someone in the
firm took him to lunch or something.

Just a little celebration.

Antoine's? Is Mr. Lane there?

Did he come in for lunch? I
see. But he's not there now.

Well, if he does come in, would you please
tell him to call his office right away?

Yes, this is his
secretary. Thank you.

How do, madam?

Can I interest you
in our line of plastics?

It's 3:00.

So it is. Inexorable
time in its flight.

But what the devil?
This is a very special day.

I know.

On this day, 25 years ago,

having conquered Europe for General
Eisenhower and President Truman,

I doffed my khakis...

and enlisted in the cause
of Pritkin's Plastic Products.

Twenty-five years, Miss Alcott.

That's a quarter of a century.

So, what the devil?
If a fella can't get a

little sauced on that
kind of anniversary, I say,

what good is
motherhood and the flag?

Are there any messages? Yes. Mr. Pritkin
was looking for the Carstair order,

and Mr. Doane took it in to him.

Mr. Doane took it in to him.

Johnny-on-the-spot Doane!

- With assistants like that, who needs assassins?
- But you did most of that report.

Well, what's the difference?

You see before you, Miss Alcott,
a man too old and set in his ways...

And at the moment, a little too deep in his
cups... to do war with the young Turk...

in the cubicle
immediately to my left.

You know where I've
been for the past hour?

Standing on the sidewalk
in front of Tim Riley's Bar.

That doesn't mean
anything to you, does it?

Should it?

It's just an old eyesore that they're
gonna tear down pretty soon...

and put up a, eh, 20-story bank
building with an underground parking lot...

and fluorescent lights
and glass walls and...

And high-speed,
self-service elevators,

and I wouldn't be surprised if they
piped in music too, right in the lobby.

And a year from now,

no one will remember that Tim
Riley had a bar right on that corner...

or that he sold beer
for a nickel a glass or

that he kept snooker
tables in the back...

or that he had a big
nickelodeon, on which you

could play three Glenn
Miller records for a dime.

It occurred to me...

The thought occurred to me...

that there should be
some sort of a ceremony.

Maybe just a convocation of former
beer drinkers and Tim Riley fans...

to hang a wreath and
maybe say a few words.

Farewell, Timothy Riley's Bar...

and Terra planes
and rumble seats,

saddle shoes and Helen Forrest,

triple-C Camps...

and Andy Hardy and Lum &Abner...

and the world-champion
New York Yankees.

Rest in peace, you
age of innocence...

You beautiful, serene, carefree,

pre-Pearl Harbor,
long summer night.

We shall not look
upon your likes again.

Bear with me, please,
Miss Alcott. I, uh...

Well, they're going to tear down
Tim Riley's Bar, and no matter how...

silly and as sentimental that
sounds, I have lost something.

What do ya say, sport?
Have a good lunch?

Dandy.

I took the Carstair stuff in to the old
man. He was gettin' kind of anxious.

Good on you.

Made a few embellishments.
I hope you don't mind.

Be my guest.

That sales pitch you
had in the opening...

- I had to touch that up quite a bit.
- Touch away, lad.

- Touch away.
- You puttin' me on?

Me, putting you on? Why
would I possibly want to do that?

Usually when I try to be a little
independent, you step on me.

Usually when you try
to be a little independent,

you're too flamboyant, too
arsty-craftsy and noticeably dishonest.

I step on you, Doane, to keep
you within 10 feet of Mother Earth.

Now, I'll admit you're a hotshot peddler,
but unless you are mildly restrained,

you'll soon be claiming the
moon. It takes awhile, doesn't it?

- To do what?
- To get a rise out of you.

Young Master Doane who has
to draw blood before the 6:00

whistle or else he goes
home and kicks his teddy bear!

All right, pat yourself on the
back. You've gained a point.

You pricked me. You
finally riled the old bull.

But remember, there is a
pecking order around here.

You are still outranked. You are
still my assistant. You are still...

Is this a private altercation,
or may I involve myself?

I think we might excuse you, Miss
Alcott. I'm sure you have some work to do.

Well, Doane? It really
wasn't anything, sir.

Mr. Lane was just
reminding me of his seniority.

Then perhaps Mr. Lane
should be reminded that

seniority doesn't come
from merely putting in time,

not on this ball club.

I judge a man by his current record,
not last season's batting average.

You mean, what've I done
for you lately, huh? Precisely.

And what you've done
for us lately isn't very

much. Oh, you've put in
time, but not much else.

Protracted lunch periods,
considerable martini

drinking and darn
precious little mustard cut.

Candidly, Lane, your assistant here has
left you whinnying at the starting gate.

I want this understood... Your
performance, Lane, has deteriorated.

Your sales have slipped. Your
entire attitude has become sloppy.

I suggest a trial period
during which both you

and Mr. Doane will
share the director's spot.

He'll no longer be
answerable to you.

Oh, you can consult
each other, but any

ideas he has of his
own, he's free to follow.

That understood? Clearly.

Incidentally, uh,

I'm reminded this is your
25th year with the company.

This little unpleasantry notwithstanding,
I just wanted you to know...

that you have my
congratulations.

I hope the next 25 years
bring bigger and better things.

Something else, was there?

Perhaps you're waiting
for the funeral oration.

Look, young Mr. Doane, why don't
you and I just level with each other?

I'm on the way down,
you are on the way up.

We're just passing
each other in midair.

I'm looking at a threat, you
are looking at an obstacle...

and that is a lousy basis for any
mutual, friendly back-scratching.

Can I get you something?

I had in mind a fancy gold watch,
properly engraved on this anointed day...

Something like, "Well done,
good and faithful servant."

You know, on an
anointed day like this,

a man shouldn't have to
spend the evening alone.

I've got a steak in the freezer
saved for special occasions...

and a couple of Idahos
suitable for baking...

and a great salad
dressing I make myself.

What do you say?

I say that you are
a very dear lady.

I say thank you, but
no, thanks. Why not?

Oh, the syndrome of the 25-year
man who did not get the gold watch.

He's too full of himself,

he's too sorry for himself
and he makes lousy company.

- Another time?
- All right.

Miss Alcott?

You are a good lady.

That's because I work
for a very good guy.

They're closed, Randy.

Don't I know it.

Yeah, I know how you feel.

The first arrest I ever
made was in Tim Riley's Bar.

Couple of guys arguing
over whether Carl Hubbell...

could throw faster
than Lefty Gomez.

And if that don't date me, then
I'll join Tim Riley under the sod.

First date I ever had
with my wife was in there.

When her father found out
about it, he practically had a stroke.

Yeah, don't I remember
her. Katy, Katy Dunovant.

She was a lovely,
lovely lady, Randy.

That she was.

When I got back
from the service,

they gave a surprise
party for me in there.

My train was late.

When I finally got here, my old
man had fallen asleep in the corner.

I'll say one thing... the old boy
could put away a keg of the stuff.

And many's the night I sat
here with him while he did it!

And while I did it!

Oh, things going
well for you, Randy?

I'm 48 years old. That makes me six years
younger than my father was when he died.

Yeah.

Well, when I first
met you in here,

I had a spring in my step
and arches in my feet.

And my one ambition in life...

was to capture Al Capone.

Mmm!

But one morning I woke up...

and found that I'd
run out of vinegar.

All I wanted was Epsom salts.

So now I walk a little slower,

and I pray for quiet nights.

And I keep reminding
myself that I...

I'm flatfooted and
slower than molasses,

but I'm still a lot
faster than Al Capone.

Ah, look after yourself, Randy.

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny♪♪

You'll be joining Mr. Doane
as of next Monday morning.

Doane? His secretary Miss
Trevor handed in her notice.

Getting married or something. In any case,
she's leaving. You will assume her duties.

Mr. Blodgett. Hmm?

- What about Mr. Lane?
- Mr. Lane?

Well, I've been working
for him for two years.

I'm not sure what the arrangement will
be. You'll have a replacement, of course.

But as of the moment,
Mr. Doane needs you

next Monday morning.
Requested you personally.

- But what if I don't wish to work for Mr. Doane?
- What's that supposed to mean?

That's supposed to mean he's
done everything but wear track shoes!

Regrettably, in my capacity
as personnel director,

I have neither the time nor
the inclination to listen to your

personal assessment of the
executives of this organization.

I'll put it to you bluntly,
Miss Alcott. You either

show up for work with
Mr. Doane Monday morning,

or this afternoon at the
cashier's for your severance pay.

Which will it be,
please? I'm very busy.

Got the word, huh?

Loud, clear and irrevocably.

Close the door.

If it makes it go
down any easier,

- I feel a lot worse about this than you do.
- I seriously doubt that.

Well, you have a choice. You can tie
yourself to a rocket or to a groundhog.

There is so much handwriting
on the wall around this

place, it's beginning to look
like a gigantic men's room.

And that's it?

Well, there's a...
there's a lot more to say.

A couple of items
having to do with...

how grateful I am to you for
everything you've done for me.

But unfortunately, I am stone-cold
sober now and not given to loquaciousness.

Well, you do know that, don't
you, Lynn? How grateful I am to you.

Hurry up, Lynn. We're going
to open the present. What is it?

Open it!

It's a chafing dish!

♪ For she's a
jolly good fellow ♪

♪ For she's a jolly good fellow
For she's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪
♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ Which nobody can
deny Which nobody can♪♪

Well, sir, what's the
first day been like?

The first day?

Just wanted you to know
I'm keeping my eye on ya!

You're going to become our number-one
salesman, Randy. Numero uno!

The company'll be moving into
plastics soon. It's the coming thing.

You're gonna move right on
up with us! Right up in front!

Mr. Lane? It's your wife, sir.

You want to take it on
your own phone? My wife?

Katy, honey! It's Randy!
Did you call me, Mr. Lane?

Who is this? It's Lynn,
Mr. Lane. You buzzed me.

Is there something wrong?

No, no, no. Nothing wrong.

I'm a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ Yes, I'm a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ For I'm a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny
Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ Oh, I'm a jolly good fellow
Yes, I'm a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ Yes, I'm a jolly good fellow♪♪

You'd better be the night
watchman, buddy, or the equivalent.

Night watchman?

I outrank every night
watchman in the world!

I am, late, a sergeant,
2nd Platoon, "B" Company,

508th parachute infantry,
82nd Airborne Division.

I have just recently returned,
V.E. Day being behind us...

Then why don't you come with
us, and we'll celebrate the event?

It isn't every day the war ends.

Well, I would like to accommodate
you, Officer. I mean, I genuinely would.

But the festivities
are right here.

In a few moments, Timothy Riley is going
to accompany my old man on the piano.

My old man is going to sing
"It's a Long Way to Tipperary."

Now, I grant you, it may be
unharmoniously harmonious,

but what they lack in symmetry
they make up with gusto!

- You gonna come with us, buddy, or...
- I'll take care of him. I know him.

You know him well enough to explain
to him he can get 30 days apiece...

for trespassing and
being under the influence,

plus tack on 90 more
for breaking and entering?

I said, I'd take care of him.

Before you say one word, Officer
McDermont, I must report to you...

that I am the sole custodian of
$11.80 worth of Antoine's finest bourbon.

Okay, Randy, fine. Now,
listen. I'm just gettin' off duty.

My car is parked less than
a block away from here.

So what do you say to
a nice little ride home?

Aren't you gonna stay around for
the party? The party is over, Randy.

Over? Where's everybody gone?

They've gone to their
respective rewards.

The party's been over for 25 years.
Come on, laddie. Let's go home.

No, no. Officer McDermont,
this is where it is, right here.

This is where what is, Randy?

The best years of my life.

It may be that you decide to call
downtown for the psycho squad,

but something... different
has been happening to me.

I keep getting
beckoned to by ghosts.

Every now and then it's 1945!
How do you like them apples?

And if you think that sounds
nutty, get a load of this.

I wish those ghosts would stick
around. They're the best friends I've got.

I feel a lot more comfortable with
them than I do with these live, warm,

flesh-and-blood bodies I ride
up and down elevators with.

Randy, why don't you tell
me all about it in the car?

Because I want to tell you about it here!
Now, I rate something more than I've got!

Where does it say that every morning of
a man's life he's got to Indian wrestle...

with every hot, young contender off the
sidewalk who has an itch to go up one rung?

McDermont, I've put in my time. You
understand that? I've paid my dues.

I shouldn't be hustled to
death in the daytime and then

die of loneliness every
night! That's not the dream!

That's not what it's about!

Okay, Randy.

Come on. I'll drive you home.

I want to go to 67 Bennett Avenue.
Hey, wait a minute. You don't live there.

The devil I don't. You used to live there.
Now you live in a high-rise on Norton.

I don't live there. I just wash my
socks there. I live at 67 Bennett Avenue.

It's a two-story,
white-frame house. Katy and

I bought it six months
after we were married.

That's empty now, Randy. They're
tearing down the whole block, every house.

They're gonna build
an apartment complex.

Humor me, Officer.
Drive me there anyway.

Ehh, well?

They sure don't build
'em like they used to.

Hmm. I'll walk from here.

I can... I can walk from here.

I'm sober now.

Okay. But don't go
knockin' any doors down.

The next time you get a collar on, I
won't be around to help, you know.

Get some sleep.
Good night, Randy.

Supper's ready, Randy. Randy,
will you wipe your shoes off?

You're tracking mud
all over the hall carpet.

Good night, Randy
darling. Randy my love.

Randy? Randy?

Randy?

- You lost?
- But I thought you might be.

No, I live here. Correction...
I used to live here.

I know it's presumptuous, but...

But when you didn't come back
from lunch, I was concerned.

I remember you were
mentioning Tim Riley's Bar.

By the time I got there,
though, I saw the...

policeman putting
you into his car.

I followed you. You followed
him because you were concerned.

And Mr. Pritkin? Was
he concerned too?

Go ahead. Tell me.
Well, he was upset.

Upset! Yes, I can well imagine.

And I'm sure our
Mr. Doane put in his oar too.

With unholy glee. And I'm
sure he reminded Mr. Pritkin...

that as of 10:00 this morning,
I had left the premises.

I am on the way out, Lynn. I
expect you know that, don't you? Yes.

Katy and I bought this place...

six months after
we were married.

Katy was my wife.

It must have been quite lovely.

Oh, it was. We had a
lot of plans for this place.

Well, she had a lot of plans. But
then she died not long after that.

You loved her very much.

To the depth and breadth and
height that my soul can reach.

Which is from Browning,

who is passé, and...

now only quoted by
lachrymose aging men.

Have you had anything to eat?
I've had considerable to drink,

which more than compensates
for what I haven't had to eat.

But I do thank you for your
concern. It's very much like you.

You think I'm
playing den mother...

because... because
I feel sorry for you?

No. No, that's not
what it's all about.

Enough. Enough already.

I am obviously past
prime, but I am...

I'm not made of pig iron. Please
don't make it too tough for me, huh?

I... I think you're
going to need a ride.

What's the matter?

- It was raining that night too.
- What night?

She had a miserable cold. Couldn't
shake it. Wouldn't go to the doctor.

When I got home, my next-door
neighbor was waiting for me.

They... They tried to
reach me, but I was out.

Would you believe it? I'm selling
plastics, and my wife is dying.

Please get in!

Katy? Katy, I'm coming! Stay
there, Katy! I'm coming, Katy!

I'm coming, Katy!

Katy...

Mr. Lane? I got here soon as I could.
One of my neighbors told me that...

I'm afraid you're
too late, Mr. Lane.

It was pneumonia.

We did everything
we could, but...

I'm sorry. Mr. Lane's
apartment isn't answering.

Thank you.

I could've saved
you the trouble.

Your boss spent the night in the city
jail. Little squib in the morning paper.

Good morning. Good morning.

Mr. Pritkin? Yes.

- I'm afraid we're minus our sales director this morning.
- Mr. Lane's sick?

I imagine so, after spending
the night in a drunk tank.

Should you hear from
Mr. Lane, Miss Alcott,

tell him I should very
much like to see him...

at his earliest convenience.

Miss Alcott, just a
little suggestion...

Always play the favorite. That
applies to thoroughbred horses.

And you, Mr. Doane,
happen to be a jackal!

And as of this moment,
you are unemployed!

At last I have something
to thank you for,

because not to have to work for
you is my most cherished ambition!

Well, Miss Alcott. Are you gonna
give him the message or am I?

You put your hand on that doorknob,
and I'll break it off at the wrist!

You can add another to my
long list of accomplishments...

I now have a record of arrest.

I know. A great deal can
happen to a man in 24 hours.

Mr. Lane's office.

It's Mr. Pritkin.

Randolph Lane here.

Yes, sir. No, I understand, sir.

Yes, I... I know all
about corporate images.

Well, that, too, Mr. Pritkin. I realize
the value of good public relations.

I understand, sir. I'm
close to an expert on that.

Well, if I vacate my office in, say,
uh, 10 minutes, will that be all right?

Fine.

And thank you, sir,
for telling me yourself.

The well-known ax.

One stroke.

I don't think there's anything else
around here that belongs to me...

or that I want to take with me.

When you do your housecleaning
for Mr. Doane, perhaps you would...

If you find anything of
mine, just send it... I won't

be working for Doane or
for anyone else around here.

Wherever you go,
that's where I go.

I'm afraid that won't
be possible, Lynn.

You see, where I'm going, I
don't think they'd let you in.

Good-bye, Lynn.

I've been late... A little
bit too late all my life.

So now I'm going to stake a claim
on a few of the better memories.

And for this particular... date,
I'm not gonna be late at all.

Oh, Mr. Lane?
There's a call for you.

Mr. Lane no longer works here.
Mr. Lane no longer lives here.

Mr. Lane is no longer available.

And if anybody else
should ask, Mr. Lane

has gone to a homecoming
at Tim Riley's Bar.

For Randolph Lane who has
just departed the premises,

one small, lonely
word on his behalf,

since nobody else
seems to give a damn.

- Now, listen, Miss...
- In exchange for 25 pretty good years,

you've given him the boot
and the back of your hand.

Now he's alone, tired
and a little frightened.

Maybe the least you
could've given him would've

been a gold watch. That
wouldn't have been so bad.

But just a word... a gentle
word would've been better,

when all he really needed
was that one word...

to let him know
that he had worth.

That much you
could have given him.

That much, Mr. Pritkin,

you should have given him!

Uh, wait a minute.
Hey! Wait a minute!

Welcome home, Randy.
It's good to see you.

It's good to see you,
too, Tim. Awful good.

Randy! How are you, son?

I'm fine, Pop. I'm just fine.

Hello, darling.

Katy!

Oh, how I've missed you.

♪♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ For he's a jolly ♪♪

Oh, forget about them!
Don't think about them at all.

Come on, everybody! This is where
it's at! Right here! This bar, now!

I'm back. Don't you understand?
It's 1945, and I'm back!

- Come on! Everybody, please sing!
- Randy...

Come on, Pop. Give us a
couple of choruses of "Tipperary."

Tim, play the piano.
Everybody... Everybody sing!

How about that, Randy? They're
tearing down Tim Riley's Bar.

- That's what they're doing, Tim.
- Yep. That's what they're doing.

Katy, you sing for
me! Please, sing.

♪ Should auld acquaintance be forgot ♪
Oh, no, Katy.

No sad songs on this occasion. This is a
homecoming. ♪ And never brought to mind ♪

- Oh, no, Katy, no!
- ♪ Should auld ♪

♪ Acquaintance be forgot ♪
No. We're gonna be married, you and I.

♪ And days of auld lang syne
♪ We're going to buy a white

house with two stories.
That's what's going to happen.

Don't you see? And I'll tell you one
thing. I'll tell you something right now.

♪ For auld lang syne,
my dear ♪ We'll change

it all. It's gonna
be right this time.

I'm not gonna lose you,
Katy. I swear to God,

I'm not gonna lose you.
♪ For auld lang syne ♪

♪♪ Hey, wait a
minute. Wait a minute!

Listen to me! I can't stay here.

I have no place here. I'm
an antique, a has-been.

I have no function,
no purpose here.

If you dessert me, I'm marooned!

I can't survive out there!

Don't go away! Come on back!

Pop? Tim?

Don't you see? They've
stacked the deck that way.

They've got it fixed so you
get elbowed right off the earth!

You don't know what it's
like out there! I tell you,

the whole bloody world is
coming apart at the seams.

I can't hack it! I swear
to God, I can't hack it!

♪ For auld lang syne ♪

Katy, I can't lose
you. You're all I've got.

- I've... I've lost everything else.
- ♪ For auld lang ♪♪

Hey, mister!

You wanna get outta
here? You're in the way.

Come on, buddy! We're
on overtime as it is.

Back it up, back it up!

Hey, Mac! Move it, will ya?

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow
For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ For he's a jolly good fellow ♪

♪ Which nobody can deny♪♪

Randy Lane, it
occurred to some of us...

Your friends...

That a man shouldn't have 25 years
go by without being remembered...

and thanked...

and reminded that he's held in
deep affection and sizable esteem.

It's to my discredit, Randy,
that I ask you to forgive me...

if I haven't told
you this before...

and more than once.

To the past 25, but much more
important than that, to the next 25!

Welcome, art lovers. We
offer for your approval...

a painting which has to
do with what happens to

men who take a walk
into nature's marketplace,

and exchange certain
powers for other powers.

The blind, we're told, for example,
develop an extraordinary sense of touch.

In this case, the story of a man
who perfects the art of killing.

Our painting is
called The Last Laurel.

Marius? Dr. Armstrong is here.

My eyesight isn't impaired,
Susan, only my legs.

Now get out and close the door.

- What's the problem tonight, Marius?
- The friendly bedside manner approach.

There's no need
for that, Doctor.

My condition stinks,
and it's still unchanged.

I don't want to appear
ungracious, Marius, but why

was I asked to drive 30
miles to come here tonight?

The bridge is out.

I had to come across
on the ferry, and I'm

told that mine was the
last car allowed over.

You'd think, wouldn't you,

a man who was
cracked up on a freeway,

a man who'll be crippled
for the rest of his life,

forced onto his back,

you think he'd be spared
any further indignities.

Your point, Marius?

Just where does it say
in that oath of yours...

that you can walk into a man's
house and rob him of his wife?

You're aren't serious, are you?

What do you think, Doctor?

I won't even honor that
question with an answer.

I summoned you here
simply to inform you...

that all that hanky-panky
is a matter of record...

and that I have every
intention of dealing with it...

in my own unique fashion.

Now, get my wife in here.

- Mrs. Davis?
- "Mrs. Davis?"

Oh, why not "Susan," Doctor?

After all, that's what you
call her when I'm not in view.

Susan, now that
the bridge is out,

I'm afraid our good friend has
no choice but to spend the night.

A development, I'm sure,
which pleases you to no end.

- Marius, that's not true.
- Oh. Your lover boy will be in the bedroom across the hall.

While that former
decathalon champion...

Now a half a man...

Lies here incapable of
doing anything about it.

Could you both do me a favor?

Get out of my sight!

I'm sorry.

Don't be.

It's happened before.

Even a teenager who
delivers the groceries.

Marius is convinced
that I'm playing the field.

Only with you... Yes?

Where you're concerned, it's
lately become an obsession.

All he talks about,
all he thinks about...

I can live with his fantasies.

- I'm having trouble with my own.
- What do you mean?

Last night I woke up.

It was almost dawn.

I thought I heard
something. I sat up in bed,

and I swear to you,

I saw Marius walking out of my
room. Susan, that is a fantasy.

He can't get onto his feet, let
alone move an inch without falling.

I wonder.

How peaceful you look, Marius.

How totally in repose.

But they wouldn't sleep so
well if they knew, would they?

If they realized what I've
been able to accomplish...

To be able to leave my body
through sheer force of will.

To be able to shed that
crumbling, useless frame...

Just like kicking off a shoe.

Mind over matter,
buddy. That's all it is.

Just like going back into training...
Learning, practicing, perfecting.

A man gets a
power for a purpose.

There's a plan to things.

Dig this one, old friend.

I'm going out there and get
my wife's sewing scissors,

and I'm going to
stick them very deep...

into the jugular of a certain
young doctor across the hall.

And what will the
police call it? Homicide.

What else could it be?

There lies poor Marius
Davis with his withered legs.

And the only ambulatory
human being in the house...

is his comely young wife.

They may not give laurels
for what I'm going to do,

but, baby, this is going to be one
championship performance all the same.

Check that, Marius.

See what I can do...

just by concentrating my will.

But that one was for vaudeville.

Now comes the money play.

Now, that took some real doing.

Now, this was some trick...

To be able to pick up objects.

Oh-ho-ho! Beautiful.

Oh, this is beautiful.

Dr. Armstrong, I hope
your insurance is paid up.

Oh, now you've paid, buddy!

Now you've really paid in full!

What could I have...

Ohh, God!

I'm in the wrong room!

Marius, what's the matter?

Marius Davis doesn't
live here anymore.