All language subtitles for Millennium [2x21] - Somehow, Satan Got Behind Me - SFM -

What the hell...?

Huh.

Hey, kid.

Coffee and an apple fritter.

I'm just brewing up a fresh pot, sir,
and the apple fritters need to cool down.

Kid, if I wanted your life story,
I would have bought the book.

Coffee and an apple fritter, now!

Sir, they're not ready just yet.
I have some decaf brewed.

Why would I, or anybody in their right mind,
voluntarily drink decaf, huh?

All right, tell me when it's ready.

And make it snappy, kid.
Some of us actually work for a living.

Every morning the same thing.
Bitter old fart!

Well, he wants bitter,

I'll give him bitter.

I ask you, whatever happened to
"The customer's always right"?

- That went out with automats.
- Yeah, you're livin' in the past, daddio.

What's the matter with you?
Something wrong?

Sort of. I have this...

Whoa! I didn't say anything
about sharing.

Sir? Your order's ready.

Thank you.

Huh!

Hey! This fritter isn't
cooled down enough yet.

Dammit!

Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but, I tell you,
things didn't used to be this way.

Oh.

Aaaah!

- Burn your tongue?
- No.

That kid peed in my coffee.

He-he!

Anyone care to make a little wager
on the big fight tonight?

Does boxing still have
that standing eight-count rule?

- Yeah.
- Might as well be watching a pillow fight.

I lost all interest in the sweet science
when Kid McCoy retired from the ring.

- The real McCoy.
- Who?

World middleweight champion and
inventor of the infamous corkscrew punch.

Would tear the flesh
right off his opponents.

He was also convicted of killing his married
lover and shooting three other people.

I still love that line in his suicide note.

"I can't endure this world's madness
any longer. "

A fighter and a philosopher, huh?

But that's exactly what's missing
from this bland day and age.

Personalities, characters,

individuals with an inspirational flare.

For example, a while back I was out
wandering on the old country highway.

I was just looking for... I don't know,

a new sort of titillation.

But all I found was the same old thing.

What you doin' here
by your lonesome, old-timer?

Waitin' for a ride.

Yeah? You been waitin' long?

So many cars passed by, I lost count.

People are reluctant
to pick up hitchhikers these days.

In ancient times the Greeks
always had to help vagabonds

because they never knew if the beggar
might be one of their gods in disguise.

Nowadays, itjust seems safer to assume
that every stranger is a devil.

Could be a serial killer, or worse.

So how do you know I'm not?

You didn't strike me
as the serial-killer type, pops!

- You're an expert on serial killers?
- No. I'm not an expert or anything,

but I do spend a lot of time
reading true-crime books.

Ah! True-crime books!

- Yeah!
- Exactly!

Well, you see where
this story is headed.

As it turned out, the kid not only
had an interest in serial killers,

he once made contact with one.

This was made in prison by Johnnie Mack
Potter, the most prolific murderer in America.

He was convicted of killing 36 people.

How'd you get a hold of that?

Well, he used to be the janitor and mascot
at my school, Roosevelt High Red Devils.

He was caught the year before I attended,
so I never met him,

but every day I'd walk down
those hallways,

I couldn't help but think to myself
"Wow! A serial killer once cleaned these. "

- "Wow" is right!
- So I wrote to him in prison.

He sent me this devil dohickey.

Oh, but here I am probably boring you
with all this killer talk.

That's Johnnie Mack Potter in his old
mascot uniform. How'd you get that?

I'm a murder-memorabilia collector myself.

You know, it's kinda neat to be able
to talk to someone about this stuff

and not feel like a sicko.

Perry, why do you think you possess
this morbid fascination with serial killers?

Well, I'll be honest with ya,
I don't know.

It's nothing to do with the fact that
you possess so many characteristics

of the prototypical serial killer?

- What?
- White, male in his 20s.

The product of a broken home who spent his
youth starting fires and/or torturing animals.

An early addiction
to drugs and/or alcohol.

An inability to hold a steady job
or relationship with women.

Dreaming about turning your masochistic
mutilation sex fantasies into reality,

to say nothing of the fact you drive a van and
keep duct tape in your glove compartment.

How the hell did...?
What are you trying to tell me?

Play the hand you've been dealt.

Good lord! Don't tell me that's all it took!

You know, we were so envious
when Man was given free will,

but what has it brought them?

The belief that life's determined by
everything other than their own will.

And the right to vote.

Uh-huh.

Wait a minute. I'm confused.
The man became a serial killer because...?

Yes. Just because.

His first victim was a prostitute,
as was to be expected.

I was concerned that his initial reaction
was a tad over-sensitive.

Don't worry. It's like your first beer.

You get used to it and eventually
life doesn't seem as good without it.

I wanna become the most prolific
serial killer in the history of this country.

He didn't want to be the most
colourful killer or the most weird.

He just wanted to break
Johnnie Mack Potter's record.

Quantity not quality. Hah.

His "originality" was prostitutes.
He killed another one that very night.

- Then it was prostitute after prostitute.
- Been there. Done that.

One night I did manage to inject
some irony into his blandness.

I talked him into attacking
a self-proclaimed devil worshipper.

Satan!

Save me!

Satan, save me please!

No! Satan!

Save me!

"Satan, save me!"

Yeah. I bet there was no
divine intervention there, huh?

Unfortunately, that very next night
he was right back to prostitutes.

So clich�d was this guy that
he often returned to the scene of the crime

because, you know,
that's what killers supposedly do.

Looks like they found number 36.

One more and I top Johnnie Mack Potter.
Then I become the serial killing champ.

Maybe you should get T-shirts printed up.

Wait a minute.
What did this man look like?

I know how terrible this'll sound,
but they all look the same to me.

Oh!

But I swear to God this man reacted
like he had glimpsed my true essence.

Impossible! It's not in their nature.

All right, so my story's a little out there.

Go with it.

In any case, having seen this weird guy,

being so bored with my killer,
I figured enough was enough.

After they got the fingerprints off it,
it didn't take them long.

- Freeze!
- Hold it right there!

Mr Blerick!

Of course, I was nowhere to be found!

Later he told the police that
I was the one responsible for the murders!

They're always blaming others.

The criminal psychologist deduced that
the elderly hitchhiker didn't actually exist.

It was merely one segment
of the killer's split personality!

So after some time had passed,
and I felt it was the right time,

I sent my killer companion
a friendly little note of advice.

- Did he do it?
- He gave it the old college try.

Too bad he had never gone to college.

But then it was all for nothing, wasn't it?
You didn't achieve total closure.

Well, it's my attitude that sometimes
you have to sacrifice self-satisfaction

for a sense of poetic justice.

And that, my friend,
is why Johnnie Mack Potter remains

the reigning, and still undisputed,
serial killing champion.

- Hello? Is this the Helm residence?
- Uh, yes, it is.

- May I please speak to Mr Helm?
- This is him. What's the matter?

Nothing, unless you're being overcharged
by your long-distance phone company.

May I ask which current service you use?

What? What time is it?

It's time to start saving over 30�/.
on your long-distance calls.

Now, if you'll sign up with us...

Ha-ha-ha! Ha!

I don't like working with serial killers.
If they get caught, they end up on death row,

which is the only place
where humans can still find God.

The trouble with serial killers is
they're too evil.

- Hey, if you're afraid of 'em.
- That's not what I meant, and you know it.

- What did you mean?
- Their evil is too conspicuous.

When people hear about psycho killers it can
lead them to thinking about the nature of evil,

which leads to thoughts about
right or wrong.

That thinking can get ugly.

You don't want 'em considering
crap like that.

You just want 'em to go through
the routine of living their lives.

And what do you do to gut their souls?

I don't do squat any more.

- They do it all for ya.
- I'm not sure I'm following.

Mankind has progressed to a point
in its dim-witted history

where life has been drained
of all its enchantment.

All you've gotta do is sit back
and enjoy.

I mean, I ask you, what evil genius
invented the alarm clock?

No other creature but man
could concoct a device that interrupts, daily,

their only natural state of happiness.

And no doubt the evil genius's evil twin
contributed the snooze button.

Oh, boy!

- I beg you!
- Other human instruments of torture,

the rack, the iron maiden,
are no match for their modern version.

Stop!

Used in a regiment
of self-inflicted suffering,

all in the name of vanity
and rock-hard abs.

Their efforts to distance themselves
from their animal natures

only show what dumb beasts
they truly are.

Required to cover their
God-given bodies,

they also tie a superfluous constricting
piece of cloth around their necks

for no reason whatsoever.

I fail to see how any of this
leads them to eternal damnation.

They fail to see it too because they think
they're livin' a so-called normal life.

You have no idea the torments they'll put
themselves through for the sake of such a life.

They'll spend a third of every day
at a place they can't stand

doin'stuff they don't want to do,
all in the name of earning a living.

I've seen punishments in hell less severe.

When not at work, their free time is spent
in servitude performing menial chores,

none of which could be called
life-affirming.

As a wise devil once said,

"All roads to hell lead through
coin-operated Laundromats. "

You seem to be forgetting one little thing
in this method of yours - sin.

I choose to forget it.

- Because humans have as well.
- Oh, brother!

I don't mean they stop committing sins.
Just the opposite.

They sin so often, it's just become
another part of their routine.

Whatever passion compelled them to commit
such acts has long since passed away.

Yeah. Go, baby.

Go.

Do it.

Shake that thing.

Yeah. Yahoo.

Do it.

Take it off.

Take it all off.

Do it.

Do it.

Even their less-guilty pleasures
are less than pleasures.

Um... Am I missing something?

Yeah. Having him fall asleep is not the same
as having him fall into the fiery pits of hell.

How can you ruin them
if you don't interact with them?

Oh, every once in a while I interact
with them, but nothing too evil.

Minor irritations are all you need.

And I find, the best irritations
utilise their own man-made laws.

- Hey, I just parked there.
- Ah! Tell it to the judge!

Hey! What's with this ticket?
The meter hasn't even run out.

Oh!

- The same guy that saw Blerick?
- No. He wasn't reacting to my inner essence.

All humans look horrified
when confronting an authority figure.

- Hey, did this guy look depressed?
- Why?

I read an article about people using
St John's wort to cure depression.

In the Middle Ages, humans used it
and claimed to see devils.

Ah! Old wives' tales!

Still... Does this guy look like
he might be using this St John's wort?

He looks like he needed a vat of the stuff.

It doesn't matter what they take.
It's not in their nature to see us.

Yeah, you don't even know
how to damn them.

I just told you.

You simply let them go through the routine
of living their lives as they see fit.

Until they realise

their lives are unfit to live.

It never ceases to amuse me how these idiots
only learn to appreciate the freedom of life

just when they're taking it,

and just before they hit pay dirt.

Argh!

Well, if you ask me,
subtlety is for closet homosexuals.

What's that crack supposed to mean?

I just find your laissez-faire style
as lame as the souls you're destroying.

Why be a devil
if you can't have a little fun?

I'm familiar with your methods,
and I find them crass and unpoetic.

Yeah, like an atom bomb.

That's another plus
with my technique - mass damnation.

I just did ajob that damaged
millions of souls with one big shebang.

How?

Simply by using the instruments
Satan himself created for that very purpose.

Crap.

On page seven, your use of the word "crap"
is unacceptable to broadcast standards.

No, it is acceptable to use "crap"
only when not referring to defecation.

No, the use of "defecation"
is not acceptable either.

We suggest that you do not describe it
and simply cut the scene entirely.

That word is completely unacceptable.

Oh, you were reacting,
not suggesting. I see.

Well, my next objection
begins on page eight...

Now, every network has a censor,
a guardian of moral rectitude,

whose job is to ensure the viewing public
is not corrupted by scenes of sex, violence

or any other miscellaneous vulgarity.

No, it doesn't matter
that aliens have no genitalia.

They still have groins and they
shouldn't be kicked there. It is unacceptable.

Jeez, that sounds like a crappy job.

Imagine the weight they must bear,

the burden of maintaining
a nation's morality on your shoulders?

It's just TV!

Ah, but you're forgetting how
humans regard everything in their lives now

as a matter of life and death.

Under that constant pressure,
making 'em crack is a snap.

Unacceptable!

If you show a pile of dung,
it must be dry dung, not moist. Why?

Because I bear the burden of maintaining
a nation's morality on my very shoulders.

It's not... acceptable.

- Rinky-dink kids' stuff.
- I'm telling you, it's very effective.

- It's so stale and outdated.
- No. It's very modern.

In the old days, if you materialised before
them they all knew what they were seeing -

the external evidence of a demon
trying to tempt their soul.

But nowadays they all assume it's internal -

a psychological breakdown manifesting itself
in the form of a visual hallucination.

- And you called me lame!
- The effects are immediate.

One materialisation,
and they're convinced they're bonkers.

- But then what?
- Then they go bonkers.

I always enjoy seeing
how their madness manifests itself.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

This is unacceptable. This is acceptable.

This is... unacceptable.

This is total perversion.
This is way beyond acceptable...

His insanity threw him directly
into the belly of the beast.

Oh, this is borderline.

Um... No. We're on the border here.

Oh, we're over the border here.
We're into another unacceptable zone.

No, this...

No, I... Un...

Oh, no. No. No.

No, no, no, no, no.

This is not acceptable.

I am Broadcast Standards and Practices,
and this is not acceptable.

We're going to cut.

No excessive use of violence.

I am Broadcast Standards and Practices.

No excessive use of violence!

I am Broadcast Standards and Practices.

No excessive use of violence!

You'll not get away with this.
The final scene is gratuitously violent!

Aliens are a superior race and
would not utilise automatic weapons.

I will not approve this!
I am Broadcast Standards and Practices!

What...? What do you want from me?

- Enough words. Time for action.
- What?

You bear the burden of maintaining
a nation's morality on your shoulders.

- You mean...?
- Yes. Kill them all.

Enough words.

Time for action.

Yes. Now, shut up and dance!

You see, their grasp on sanity,
and thus their souls, is precarious at best.

I should say so.

Camera move.

OK, aliens ready now?

I am Broadcast Standards and Practices.
This is unacceptable.

I am Broadcast Standards and Practices.

No excessive use of blood!

No excessive use of violence!

- Run!
- This is all unacceptable.

I am Broadcast Standards and Practices.
Everything is unacceptable!

Everything is unacceptable!

Is that thing still rolling?

60, take three. Tail slate.

Hey, that's where I saw that guy.

- What guy?
- The depressed guy that saw you and Abum.

He was at the aftermath
of the alien massacre.

But I don't know how he saw me.
I wasn't trying to appear as an hallucination.

Now you're losing your grasp on sanity.

Hold on. Not so fast.

You boasted that the soul that you damned,
ended up damning millions of others.

- How do you figure?
- Just take my word for it.

Not every network has such
strict broadcast standards and practices.

These extra-terrestrial visitors
need to phone home

and 911.

"When Humans Attack",
right after these messages.

He knows what we are.

The man that you've all seen,
who seems to see us so clearly?

I've seen him, too.
He knows what we are.

It's an impossibility! He can't know.

- He told me himself.
- What? When did this happen?

The other day I...
I'd rather not talk about it.

You can't not tell us. What happened?

You don't understand. It's personal.

- How the hell can it be personal?
- The details.

- They're so tawdry and sordid.
- Now I must insist you tell us.

I was at a strip joint.

It was a quiet night and I was biding my time,
on the lookout for my next damnable soul.

It was obviously his first time
in such a place,

and I always get a kick out of seeing
someone's first taste of forbidden fruit.

But this yokel doesn't sound
anything like the man we saw.

- Can everyone see our true essence?
- No, this kid didn't see my true essence.

Hell, he didn't even see me.
He saw himself, his potential future.

It scared the bejesus out of him.

Sure. Yuck it up. It's really funny
when it ain't happening to you.

But this is just another reminder that...

- I'm losing my touch.
- Ah, no, you're not.

No. It's true.

It's been so long since I tempted a soul.

Now here I am scaring wide-eyed
innocents back to the other side.

In any case, I was feeling very vulnerable
at that particular moment.

Don't be so glum, handsome.
You could use a personal-fantasy dance.

- How much are they?
- 20 bucks a dance.

- How much for an eternity's worth?
- 20 with a sideways eight next to it.

- What's your name?
- Chantilly.

- What's yours?
- Engelbert.

What's your real name?

Sally. What's yours?

Toby.
How long have you had the tattoo?

I got it when I started stripping.
Should have seen me back then.

- I was a right little hell-raiser.
- I bet you were.

I was gonna sow my wild oats,

settle down, get pregnant

and watch my little devil grow big.

- I guess that's not gonna happen now.
- Stranger things have happened.

Of course, girls nowadays,
tattoos all over their bodies,

fake boob jobs, pierced tongues,
who knows what all!

- I guess I'm just... old-fashioned.
- Times change easier than people.

Ain't it the truth?

I should have quit dancing years ago,

but I have no other skills.

Now you're singing my song.

Why?

What do you do for a living?

I guess, this. I used to be so good at it.

But now...

I stink.

I don't know what happened or where it went,
but it did and it's gone.

- All good things must come to an end.
- Yeah. Life's funny that way.

"Funny" is a funny word for it.

- Keep your hands to your sides.
- I know. I'm sorry.

Those places are really strict
about that rule, aren't they?

We were like two lost souls
who, by finding each other,

had also found the answer
to all of life's mysteries

and the secret to having
lots and lots of really great sex.

After that night we were inseparable.
To be apart was painful.

But what did you two do together?

You don't understand.
We didn't have to do anything.

Most nights we just...
laid in bed and watched TV.

I think he's going through some kind of
midlife crisis. It's common for people his age.

Boy, this show really stinks.

You said it.

It was heaven.

Even the times we had to venture out
into the world were wondrous.

Her presence made the mundane
seem magnificent.

Toby, I don't know where this story is headed,
but it's starting to give me the creeps.

- One night she saw my true essence.
- Another one?

- The world's gone mad!
- She'd gone in the night to the bathroom.

She saw me for all I'm worth,

in all my naked devilry.

You see, she forgave me my faults.

One night shortly after that
we happened to wander into here.

- You brought her here?
- It's a public place!

I know, but there are some places
where women don't belong.

We sat at this very table
and I said to her

"Sally, there's something I've been
wanting to ask you for a while now. "

What is it, Toby?

Sally, will you m...

Will you m...

Will you mind
if we didn't see each other any more?

I'm... I'm really tired of you.

In fact, you make me sick, you...

fat old cow.

I could have delivered my lines better.
I know I'm a bit rusty, but they were effective.

She ran out heartbroken.

In the old days I wouldn't have checked,
but I was unsure of myself.

So after enough time had passed,
I went to her apartment.

The police had just gotten there.

I'm the boyfriend.

I'm a little ashamed to admit I was worried
that I might feel sympathy for this being.

But seeing her like that only reminded me
what ridiculous creatures they are,

to destroy themselves
over something so fleeting as

emotional attachments
and biological needs.

I was overcome with relief.

Plus, it had been such a long time
since I'd notched a soul.

- You've still got it.
- Just like riding a bike.

But that's when I saw him.

I don't know who he was
or what he was doing there,

but he knew what I was.
I could just tell.

You must be so lonely.

There! He merely mistook you
as a grieving boyfriend, nothing more.

He thought your relieved sobbing
was hysterical sobbing.

I told you. This man has no idea
what we truly are.

"You must be so lonely. "

Hey, kid!

Great cup of coffee.

Keep up the good work.

I made this.