All language subtitles for Bubba Ho-Tep (2002) (ENGLISH)

I was dreamin.

Dreamin my dick was out
and I was checking to see

if that infected bump on the
head of it had filled with pus again.

If it had, I was gonna name
that bump after my ex-wife, cilla,

and bust it by jackin off.

Oh, man.

Or I d like to think
thats what Id do.

Dreams let you think like that.

Truth was, hadnt
had a hard-on in years.

Oh, man.

My god, man. How
long have ibeen here?

Am I really awake now, or
am just dreamin Im awake?

How could my plans
have gone so wrong?

When the hell are
they gonna serve lunch?

Considerin what they
serve, why the hell do I care?

If Priscilla discovered I was
alive, would she come and see me?

Would we still wanna fuck?

Or would we merely
have to talk about it?

Is there, finally and really,

anything to life other
than food, shit, and sex?

Well, goddamnit.

How could I have gone from
the "king of rock and roll" to this?

Old guy in a rest home in east
Texas with a growth on his pecker.

And what is that growth, man?

Cancer? Nobodys talkin.

No one seems to
know... Or wants to.

Makes you wonder, doesnt it,
what kind of life this old guy had?

Huh?

What kind of life he had, you know.
His kids, his grandkids, his legacy.

Look at him now.

Oh, who gives a shit?

Huh?

Well...

Hmm.

Make you comfortable.

Oh!

Im gonna squish you, cockroach!

Gaspsi

Help me.

Easy, easy, easy.

You know, I was thinkin...

What? You gonna get
all weepy on me again?

No, I was merely gonna suggest

that you use some
of this here deodorizer

and spray it on that corpse
because shes smellin pretty ripe.

Ugh! Good idea.

Excuse me, miss?

You gonna throw
all that stuff out?

Yeah.

Could I have one of
them pictures of bull?

Maybe his... his purple heart?

I mean, he was
pretty proud of that.

And maybe that... That
tin of chocolates there?

Isuppose.

The revealin of her panties
wasnt intentional or unintentional.

She just didnt give a damn.

She saw me as so physically
and sexually non-threatenin,

she didnt mind if! Got a
birds-eye view of her love nest.

It was the same to her as a
house cat sneakin a peek.

I felt my pecker flutter once like
a pigeon havin a heart attack...

Then it laid back down
and remained limp and still.

Course, these days, even a
flutter was kind of reassurin.

Thank you.

Say...

Bull your kin?

My daddy.

Never seen you here before.

Ive only been here once
before. When I checked him in.

Thats three years
ago, wasnt it?

You and him friends?

No, we was just roommates.

I mean, he never felt
good enough to say much.

I just hated to see what was
left of him go away so easy.

Seemed like an all right guy.

Mentioned you a lot.
Youre... youre Callie, right?

Yeah.

Well... he was all right.

But not enough so youd
come and see him, though.

Dont lay some guilt
trip on me, mister.

I did what I could.

I mean, if it hadnt been
for medicaid or medicare,

whatever that stuff was,

hed have been in
some ditch somewhere.

And I sure didnt have the
money to take care of him.

My own daughter...

Lost long ago to me...

If she knew I lived, would
she come and see me?

Would she even care?

You couldve come and seen
him. They dont charge you for that.

Mind your own business.

I was busy.

Well, well, well. If it
isnt my favorite patient.

How are you this
morning, Mr. Haff?

Im all right.

But I prefer Mr. Presley or
Elvis. I keep tellin you that.

I dont go by Sebastian
haff anymore, okay?

Im not tryin to hide anymore.

Well, of course I
knew that. I forgot.

Good morning, Elvis.

Did you know we have a
celebrity here, miss Thomas?

Elvis Presley. You know,
the rock and roll singer.

I thought he was dead.

Well, actually, Elvis is
dead. Mr. Haff knows that.

Dont you, Mr. Haff?

Hell, no. Im right
here. I aint dead.

Yet.

Now, Mr. Haff!

I dont mind
calling you "Elvis."

But youre a little confused
and you like to play sometimes.

You were an Elvis
impersonator, remember?

You fell off the stage and
broke your hip... when was it?

Twenty years ago.

It got infected and you were
in a coma for quite a while.

You came out with
a few... Problems.

Look, I was just impersonatin
myself, okay? I couldnt do nothin else.

I dont have any problems.

Youre tryin to say my
brains messed up, arent you?

Why would you wanna
be somebody else?

I got tired of it.

I was hooked on pills, you know.

I wanted out.

And this boy Sebastian
haff, he was an Elvis imitator.

He was the best of
em. He took my place.

Problem is, he had a bad heart.

He liked drugs, too.
Liked them more than I did.

So it was him that died,
not me. I just took his place.

But why would you want to
leave all that fame, Mr. Presley?

All that money?

I dont know. Cause it got old.

The woman I loved,
Priscilla, she was gone.

The rest of the women...
Were just women.

I mean, the music
wasnt mine anymore.

I wasnt even me anymore.
Just this thing they made up.

And my friends...

Well, they were suckin me dry.

So I took a little road trip
down to nacogdoches...

To check out this
Sebastian haff.

Its all right, boys.
Just wait here.

Oh, my god.

I didnt think youd really...

Its all right, boys.
Just another freak.

Lets split.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
- Sorry, man.

King, I got it. I got it.

Its all yours, baby.

So isigned everything
over to Sebastian.

Except for enough money to
sustain me if things got bad.

I was determined to
make myselfa new life.

A better one.

But me and Sebastian,
we had us a deal.

If I wanted to trade
back, hed let me.

Yo, Sebastian!

It was all written
up in the contract.

The thing was...

I lost my copy in a
barbecue accident.

But that wasnt so bad, either.

I was makin new friends
and enjoyin myself.

Cheers!

Oh, my god. Did
you see that thing?

What in the Sam hill?

It just went up like that.

- Now, Elvis.
- There she is. Bobs your uncle.

Dont carry it too far.

You may just get way out
there and not come back.

Oh, fuck you.

Shit.

Get old, you cant even cuss
someone and have it bother em.

Everything you do is either
worthless or sadly amusing.

Well...

Ive got what I want.

The clothes can go to
goodwill or salvation army.

Very well. And Im sorry about
your father. He was a nice man.

Yeah.

It was nice to meet
you, Mr. Presley.

- Get the hell out.
- Now, now.

Ill be back later
to do that little...

Thing that has to
be done. You know.

- Shh!
- Elvis!

Poor bull.

In the end... Does
anything really matter?

No one here ever listened to me.

Except this one guy...
Only he was certifiable.

Thats where they
took a piece of my brain.

They got it back in
DC in that goddamn jar.

I got a little bag of
sand up there now.

Jack... no offense, but...

President Kennedy
was a white man.

Thats how clever they are!

They dyed me
this color. All over!

Can you think of a better
way to hide the truth than that?

I was livin simple.

The way haff had been.

Going from town to
town doin the Elvis act.

Only I felt like I
was really me again.

Can you dig that?

Were diggin it,
Mr. Haff... Mr. Presley.

Women were throwin
themselves at me

cause they could
imagine I was Elvis.

Only, I was Elvis playing
Sebastian haff playing Elvis.

It was all pretty good.

I didnt mind the
contract being burned up.

Didnt even try to go back
and convince anybody.

Then I had the accident.

I was gyratin, see,
takin care of business,

and then my hip went out.

Id been havin trouble with it.

Damn, its cold in here tonight.

No way. Thats it.
This time, I make it.

No more pissin
and crappin the bed.

Shake it out...

There we go.

Whoa!

Man... that is one
big bitch cockroach.

All right, man. Lets go.

Damn.

Hot damn!

Got you, you six-legged bastard.

Even a big bitch cockroach
like you should know...

Never... but never
fuck with the king.

Whoa-oh-oh-oh!

Hey! Is anybody out here?

I think we got some major
bug problems in this place, man!

Oh, man...

Hey, Jack?

Jack?

Hey, man, you okay?

What the Sam hill is that?

Mr. Kennedy?

Hey, man... youre on the floor.

No shit.

Who are you?

Look, Im...

Sebastian. Sebastian haff.

Did you see him
go by in the hall?

He scuttled like.

- Who, man?
- The one they sent.

- Whos "they"?
- Oh, you know who.

No, Jack, I dont. Come on, man.

Lyndon Johnson.

Castro, maybe.

They sent somebody
to finish me off.

I think maybe it
was Johnson himself.

Real ugly. Real goddamn ugly!

Look, man, president
Johnsons dead.

Shit. That aint gonna stop him.

Get his feet.

So, you say you
heard a... a noise?

Well, a sounds a sound, you
know? I mean, I heard something.

It was like a... I dont know.
Like a... like a scuttling.

- A scuttling sound?
- Yes, sir.

Were you awake or were you in
bed when you heard this noise?

I was in bed first, then I was awake
cause the damn bugs woke me up.

Alright? You got
bugs all over this place.

Bugs... well, Mr. Haff, what kind
of bugs have you been seeing?

Look, man, do I look like
an ichthyologist to you?

Just big damn bugs, all
right? The size of my fist.

The size of a peanut butter
and banana sandwich, man.

What do I care? I got
a growth on my pecker.

Okay, Mr. Haff. Dont
worry about a thing.

Well call the exterminator tomorrow
and well take care of the problem.

Good. Thank you.
Thank you very much.

Its time for that
little thing again.

A doll like this handlin me
without warmth or emotion...

Twenty years ago.
Just twenty, man.

I couldve made with a curly-lip smile
and had her eatin out of my asshole.

Doctor says this cream
ought to do the trick.

Corticosteroids.

Should heal the
inflammation, stop the pus.

Where d my youth go?

Why didnt fame hold
off old age and death?

Why the hell did I leave
the fame in the first place?

Do I want it back?
Could I have it back?

And if! Could... Would it
make any damn difference?

Mr. Haff!

Huh?

Lord almighty.

You old rascal.

I think you better take
a cold shower, Mr. Haff.

Thered been two
presidential elections

since I had a
boner like that one.

What gave here?

Then I realized what gave.

I was thinkin about
something that interested me.

Not my next meal or
goin to the crapper.

Id been given a
dose of life again.

You get in there with
me, Ill take that shower.

You silly thing.

Come on, now. Why
dont you pull on it a little?

You ought to be ashamed.

Where at? Where at?

I havent seen my kids.

Its an ambush!

Under the bridge. I saw
him under the bridge.

Its an ambush!
Tonto, my boots, Tonto!

Thats my friend kemosabe.
We used to play cards together.

- My boots!
- Now he doesnt even know who I am.

Daddy.

Baby?

Sebastian.
Sebastian! Its loose!

Whats loose?

It. Listen.

Jesus Christ. Whats that?

I thought it was lyndon
Johnson, but I was wrong.

Ive come across new evidence
to suggest another assassin.

Assassin?

Hes after another
target tonight.

Come on, I wanna
show you something.

I dont think its safe if
you go back to sleeping.

For Christ sake, man.
Just tell the administrators.

Suits and white
starches? No, thank you!

I trusted them when
I was back in Dallas,

and look where that
got my brain and me.

Im thinkin with sand here.

I mean, I pick up some
waves, maybe, from my brain,

but someday, who knows?

Somebody might just disconnect
the battery at the white house.

Oh, yeah. Thats something
to worry about, all right.

Listen here. Listen.

I know youre Elvis.

There was a rumor, you
know, that you hated me.

But I thought about that.

If you hated me, you couldve
finished me off the other night.

What I want from you is that
you look me straight in the eye

and assure me you had nothing
at all to do with that day in Dallas,

and that you did not know Lee
Harvey oswald or Jack Ruby.

Look, man...

I had nothing to do with Dallas.

And I knew neither Lee
Harvey oswald nor Jack Ruby.

Good. May I call you
Elvis instead of Sebastian?

You may.

Excehent

you wear glasses to read?

Well, I wear glasses
when I really want to see.

Get them. Come on.

Come on. Right down the hall.

The Walker was
swingin along easier now.

Not even like needed it.

Damn, this here Jack was a nut.

Maybe I was nuts, too...

But there was an
adventure goin on.

Its in here.

In here.

Thats it?

I mean, were investigating
a scuttling in the hall,

trying to figure out who
attacked you last night,

and you bring me in here
to look at stick pictures

on the shithouse wall, man?

Look close.

Its Egyptian.

Right-a-reen-o.

Hey, youre not as stupid
as some folks made you out.

- Thank you.
- Now, I copied this down yesterday.

I came in here to take a shit because
they hadnt cleaned up my bathroom.

Saw that on the wall,
took it back to my room,

looked it up in my books,
and I wrote it all down.

Now, this top line
translates roughly into,

"pharaoh gobbles
donkey goobers."

And the bottom line,
"Cleopatra does the nasty."

Say what?

Well, pretty much. Thats
the best I can translate it.

All right, so, one
of the nuts in here...

Present company excluded...

Thinks hes tutankhamun or something,
comes in here, writes hieroglyphics.

Big deal, man!
Whats the connection?

Why are we standin
here in the toilet?

Well, I dont know what the
connection is, exactly... not yet.

But that thing caught
me asleep last night.

And I came awake just in time.

He had me on the floor.

I had his mouth over my asshole.

A shit-eater?

I dont think so.

He was after my soul.

Now, you can get that out of any
major orifice of a persons body.

I read about it.

Oh yeah? Where, man? Hustler?

The everyday man or womans
book of the soul by David webb.

And they got pretty good
movie reviews in there

about stolen soul
movies in the back.

Come on. Ill show you.

Oh!

I think that there
might be some sort

of electrical problem over
there in the gardeners shed.

That light... Looks
like its shortin out.

This whole damn
place is fallin apart.

But you dont have
to think about that.

Mrs. Biddlestein is
waitin on her enema.

All right. All
right. Im comin.

Just let me finish
my cigarette first.

God.

Theres an ugly son of a bitch.

Damn! Hey, Jack.

What it says here is that
you can Bury some dude,

and if he gets the
right tanna leaves

and spells said over
him and such bullshit,

that he can come back to life
thousands of years later, man.

But hold on, now.

To stay alive, he has to
suck on the souls of the iivin,

and that if the souls are small,
his life force doesnt last long.

Small. Whats that mean?

Read on. No, never mind.

Ill tell you myself.

But first, would you
like a ding dong?

I dont mean mine.

I mean a chocolate ding dong.

Of course, mine would be
chocolate now that I have been dyed.

You got ding dongs, man?

I got paydays and I
got a box of baby ruths.

Oh, mama!

Which will it be?
Lets get decadent.

Ill take a baby Ruth.

All right.

Now... small souls...

Are those that dont
have much fire for life.

You know a place like that?

Man, if souls were fires,

they couldnt burn
much lower than in here.

Exactamundo.

What we have here at shady rest

is an Egyptian soul
sucker of some sort.

You know, a mummy hiding out.

Coming in here,
feeding on the sleeping.

Its perfect, you see?

Now, were small souls, so
we cant provide him much.

But if that thing comes back
two or three times in a row

and wraps his lips around
some elders asshole,

that elder is going
to die pretty soon.

And who would be the wiser?

Asshole.

A mummy cant be getting
too much energy from all this,

you know, not like with big
souls, but the prey is easy.

And with new people
comin in here all the time,

he can keep this up
forever, this soul robbin.

Thats what they
brought us here for,

to get us out of
the way until we die.

And those who dont die first

from disease or just
plain being old, he gets.

Look, thats all
well and good, Jack,

but theres one thing
that still throws me.

How does an ancient Egyptian
wind up in an east Texas rest home,

and why is he writin on
the shit house walls, man?

Well, he went in to take a crap,

got bored, started
writing on the walls.

He probably wrote on
pyramid walls centuries ago.

Come on, man, like what would
he crap? I mean, its not like hed eat.

Well, he eats souls.

So I assume that he
would crap soul residue.

By that I would mean that
if you die from his mouth,

you dont go to the other
side where the souls go.

He digests souls until
they dont exist anymore.

And youre just so much
toilet water decoration.

And speaking of toilets...

This is how I figured
that whole thing out.

Hes just like anybody else
when it comes to taking a dump.

He wants a nice,
clean place with a flush.

They didnt have
that in his time.

No, no, no. Dont
go out in the hall.

- Thats all right. Im not asleep.
- That dont mean he wont hurt you.

"He" my ass. There isnt
any mummy from Egypt.

Nice knowin you, Elvis.

Asshole. Asshole!

Asshole! Asshole!

Asshole!

Gaspsi

Kemosabe was dead of a
ruptured heart before he hit the floor.

Gone down and out
with both guns blazing.

Soul intact.

Once again, we got scolded.

This time, we got quizzed about
what had happened to kemosabe,

but neither of
us told the truth.

I mean, who was gonna
believe a couple of nuts?

Elvis and Jack
Kennedy explaining

that kemosabe was gunning
for a mummy in cowboy duds?

Some kind of bubba ho-tep?

So, what we did was...

We lied.

- Life sure is fleetin, you know?
- What?

Life. Im saying its fleetin.
You know what I mean?

One minute youre here, and
the next minute youre gone...

Shit!

Shit! Shit! Come on!

Come on. Move
it! Come on. Get it!

Nonchalant. Nonchalant.

Nonchalant.

Get it in there.

You are one fuckin idiot.

Mr. Haff?

Mr. Presley?

Mr. Presley?

Now, now, Mr. Presley.

You are looking much stronger,

but you shouldnt
be out here too long.

Its time for your nap.

And its also time for us
to do that little... you know.

You fuck off, you
patronizing bitch!

Im sick of your shit!

Ill lube my own
crankshaft from now on.

You treat me like a baby again,

Ill wrap this goddamn
Walker right around your head!

How in the hell did
that mummy do that?

Well... what the hell?

Where did old bubba ho-tep go?

Where did he come from?

How the hell did he get here?

Wait a minute.

Under the bridge. I saw
him under the bridge.

Come on, mama.

Its a cancer.

Theyre keepin it
from me cause Im old,

and to them it dont matter.

They think age will kill me
first, and theyre probably right.

Well, suck them!

I know what it
is, and if it isnt...

It might as well be.

Station krop is proud to present

the Elvis Presley
movie marathon.

Its 24 hours of Elvis in
the roles he made famous.

Watch that two-fisted
hound dog out-strum, outrace,

out-fight, and
outwit the bad guys.

And at the same time,
watch the king slay the girls.

Shitty pictures, man.

Every single one.

Here I was complainin
about loss of pride

and how life had treated me,

and now I realized...
I never had any pride.

And much of how life had
treated me had been good.

The bulk of the bad
was my own damn fault.

Shouldve fired colonel Parker
by the time I got in the pictures.

Old fart had been
a shark and a fool,

and I was an even bigger
fool for following him.

If only Id treated
Priscilla right.

If I couldve told my
daughter I loved her.

Always the questions.
Never the answers.

Always the hopes...
Never the fulfillments.

I had the woman who calls
herself my niece come get me.

She took me downtown this
morning to the newspaper morgue.

Shes been helping
me to do some research.

- Research on what, man?
- On our mummy.

You know somethin about him?

I know plenty.

Now, one of the lesser mummies,

on loan from the
Egyptian government,

was being circulated all
over the United States.

You know, museums,
stuff like that.

What do you mean?
Like king tut or whatever?

No, more like
king tuts brother.

His mummy was flown or carried
by the train from state to state.

When it got to
Texas, it was stolen.

Stolen?

Evidence points to it
being stolen at night

by a couple of
guys in a silver bus.

Bus? Hey, Ive seen that!

Anyway, the thieves
broke into the museum,

stole it in hopes of a ransom,

when in comes the worst
storm in east Texas history.

Let me guess.

The bus was washed away, see?

Cause I think I saw it today.
It was way back in the creek.

The mummy was
imprisoned by the debris.

Look here, howd
it come back to life?

And how did I end up
inside its memories?

The speculation broadens
here, but from what Ive read,

some mummies get
buried without their names...

A curse put on
their sarcophagus.

Hey, now, maybe
our boys one of them.

I mean, when hes in the coffin,
hes just a dried-up old corpse,

but when the bus got washed away,
maybe it overturned or broke open

or something and now hes
free of coffin and curse, man.

Hes free from imprisonment,
but he still needs souls.

And now hes free to have them.

He can just keep on feedin
unless hes finally destroyed.

So what do we do, Jack?

Changing rest homes
might be a good idea.

I cant think of much else.

But I will say this:

Our mummy is a
nighttime kind of guy.

So, Im gonna go and sleep now.

Ill set my alarm
for just before dark,

then I can get myself a
couple of cups of coffee.

Damn straight.

If he comes in here tonight

I dont want him slappin
his lips on my asshole.

Yes. Consider it.

Hes got the proverbial
birds nest on the ground here.

What do I really have
left in life but this place?

It aint much of a home...

But its all I got.

Well, goddamnit.

Ill be damned if I let some
foreign, graffiti-writin, soul-suckin

son of a bitch in an oversized
cowboy hat and boots

take my friends souls and
shit em down the visitors toilet!

In the movies, I always
played heroic types.

But when the stage
lights went out,

it was time for drugs and
stupidity and the coveting of women.

Now its time.

Time to be a little of whatl
had always fantasized bein:

A hero.

Hello?

Mr. Kennedy?

Ask not what your rest
home can do for you.

Ask what you can
do for your rest home.

Hey, youre copying
my best lines.

Then let me paraphrase
one of my own.

Lets take care of business.

Just what are you
getting at, Elvis?

I think you know what
Im gettin at, Mr. President.

Were gonna kill us a mummy.

Two bottles of rubbing alcohol.

Check. Dont even
have to toss em.

Look here.

Found this in the storage room.

I thought they kept it locked.

They do. I stole a hairpin
and picked the lock, baby.

Great.

Matches.

Check. Even scrounged
up a cigarette lighter.

Good. Uniform.

Big check on that, baby.

Well, I got a nice pair
of shoes to go with this.

Check.

Scissors.

Check.

All right.

Now, I got my chair
oiled and ready to roll.

Thats good, man. We
could use some wheels.

And I picked some words of
power from my book of magic.

I dont know if
theyll stop a mummy,

but theyre supposed
to ward off evil.

I wrote them down.
One for each of us.

Well, well use
what we got, baby.

All right, 2:45 A.M., we
hook up right back here.

No, at the rate we travel,
maybe we ought to start at 2:30.

Say, Jack?

Do we know what the
hell were doin, man?

No. But they say
that fire cleanses evil.

Lets just hope that they...
Whoever they are... is right.

Check on that, too.

All right, synchronize watches.

And... Mark.

Now, the two key words for tonight
are "caution" and "flammable."

And also... "Watch your ass."

Whats that you got
hanging around your neck?

Thats my medicine bag.

Indians used to
wear em into battle.

Full of all kinds
of lucky stuff.

See here? Mucho mojo.

Thats my daughter.

I know.

We werent there for our kids
when they needed us, were we?

Man, if I could just
talk to her again...

Tell her I love her...

Try and make
things right somehow.

No time for regrets, Elvis.

We were the best fathers we
could be under the circumstances.

Yeah, I guess,
no time for regrets.

We got business to take care of.

Look here. Top it off with this.

I stole it from the gardener
when he wasnt iookin.

Its gonna be one
hell of a barbeque.

Lets do it, amigo.

Hey, Jack?

I just got one last question.

Marilyn.

Come on, man. Marilyn Monroe?

What was she like in the sack?

That is classified
information. Top secret!

But between you and me...

Wow!

You old dog. Watch
your back, Jack.

Time to hump it.

Shit... when bubba ho-tep
comes out of that creek bed,

hes gonna come
out hungry and pissed.

When I try and stop him, hes
gonna jam this paint can up my ass

andjam me and that
wheelchair up Jacks ass.

Shit.

Hey, Jack.

Dont make me use
my stuff on you, baby.

Damn! Where did he go to?

Hey! You stay put!

Ill flush him out!

You be careful, man.

No, Jack!

Gaspsi

Oh, man.

No! No!

Come and get it, you
undead sack of shit.

Sorry, man.

Mr. Kennedy?

The president is soon dead.

So, now... Its
up to you, Elvis.

You got to get him.

You... got to...

Take care of business.

Thats right, man.

Were gonna t.C.B.

Its just you and me.

Mr. President.

"You nasty thing from
beyond the dead...

"No matter what you think or do,
good things will never come to you.

"And if evil is
your black design,

"you can bet the
goodness of the light ones...

Will kick your bad behind"?

For Christ sake...

Thats it?

Thats the chant against
evil from the book of souls?

Yeah, right, boss.

And what kind of decoder
ring comes with that, man?

Shit, it doesnt
even rhyme well!

This is dog shit.

Its time for a-c-t-i-o-n.

Come on, baby. Here we go.

Woo! Woohoo!

I was goin out.

And if I did, not only would I
be one dead son of a bitch,

but so would my soul.

Id be just so much crap.

No afterlife, no reincarnation,
no angels with harps.

Whatever lay beyond
would not be known to me.

It would all end right here
for Elvis Aaron Presley.

Nothin left but a quick flush.

T.c.b., baby.

Your soul-suckin
days are over, amigo.

I felt somethin inside
gratin against somethin soft.

I felt like a water balloon
with a hole poked in it.

I was goin down
for the last count.

And I knew it.

But I still have my soul.

Its still mine.

All mine.

And the folks up
there at shady rest...

They have theirs, too.

And theyre gonna keep em.

Every single one.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.