Original subtitles

When the

maternal and creative forces of women become corrupted

by the brutality of the everyday world, a

force of incredible violence is unleashed, its bloodlust

insatiable.

In this modern enlightened and yet terrible age,

even religion seems powerless against the wrath of

the female, who is, it has been maintained,

the deadlier of the species.

While there are no easy answers to this

problem threatening the very foundations of our society,

it may be enlightening to peruse the annals

of crime for the details of a far

from untypical case.

You are about to witness a string of

events that culminated in the most bloody series

of crimes ever perpetrated by a group of

adolescent girls.

I'm Joe Morton.

I'm a detective in the Greater Plantsville Police

Department, and I've been proud to serve this

community for over 30 years.

You will see a bunch of adolescent girls

acting like you've never seen any act before.

This crime spree has come to be known

as the blood orgy of the leather girls.

I hate life.

I hate school.

I hate my parents.

Most of all, I hate every day that

passes, every day the same as the one

before it, the one following it.

Nothing can distinguish one day from the other.

You gotta do something, man, anything, to make

one day different.

So I did, and I'd do it again,

anytime.

Hate is the only emotion I've ever felt.

You'd better not be late for that fancy

Catholic school I'm setting for you to go

to.

LeBrain later stated, in her sworn confession, that

she and the rest of her crew, crew

being a slang term for gang, were in

the habit of meeting at the same spot

every weekday before proceeding to St. Jerome's School

for Girls.

It was not uncommon for them to drink

and smoke before attending school.

When I love you, baby, I'm telling you

right here, but please don't make me decide,

baby, you and a bottle of beer, baby,

come on.

Pierre Aguilar, born in 1079, was one of

the founders of the University of Paris and

occupies an interesting position in the history of

theology in that he initiated the trend of

using Aristotelian logic to prove matters of faith.

As we will see in the centuries to

come, that is, in the centuries to come

after Aguilar's own, it has become obvious that

faith and logic cannot accommodate each other on

an equal basis, but that logic must be

subordinated to faith.

Otherwise we live in a logical but very

bleak world.

Abelard is also noted for his romance with

Héloïse, which has been chronicled many times, a

romance which had a tragic turn when Canon

Fulbert, Héloïse's father, believed that Abelard, whose marriage

to Héloïse he had opposed, was going to

abandon her and arrange to have Abelard castrated.

Héloïse subsequently became a nun, and Abelard became

a monk, so that it all turned out

well in the eyes of God.

Even though Abelard resumed his teaching and was

condemned by the Synod of Zen for heresy,

to see the Pope about this condemnation, once

again, as always, leaving everything okay in the

eyes of God.

The no-girls-allowed clubhouse lives on in

spirit today with signatory connotations.

Working class, privileged drinking spots are abounding these

days.

What?

Andy?

Yeah, I brought this for him, man.

Is he going to be all right?

This will be the crown of his bowling

club selection, man.

Wait a minute.

That is sharp.

Yeah, but look at it.

It's wobbly.

So it's wobbly.

You tighten it up.

It's sharp.

Is that sharp?

It's sharp.

It's nice, but God dang it, where's the

dang long screws to fix it up?

You'll get that later.

Well, you got a wrench.

Oh, hell.

So Andy in and around?

No, he's not.

He ain't been here in days, man.

Not for days?

He ain't been here in days, buddy.

When's the last time you saw him?

Oh, hell.

He was walking down the street with a

bowling ball and a bag and everything.

I thought he just went skeet shooting these

days.

Oh, no.

He dropped the bowling ball down the street

and it rolled all down the street.

What the hell?

Did he ever get it back?

No, because he did not, God damn it,

catch up with the bowling ball.

He was running down the street.

And I didn't know what was going on.

I thought he had a...

I thought he was going crazy to tell

the truth.

Just because he drops the bowling ball?

Yeah, he's running down the street like this

here, man, trying to catch the bowling ball.

And guess what?

The bowling ball outran him.

You think he's going to be in his

ninja class later on today?

Ninja?

If he can't catch the bowling ball, how

can he be a ninja?

Shit.

Is this the 14th?

Yeah.

Oh, man.

I've got to get some Valentine candies.

Can I borrow your car?

Wait a minute.

Let me see if I've got my keys.

I don't know.

Shit, man.

I've got...

I think my woman's got my goddamn keys,

buddy.

I've got these ten kids I don't pay

any child support.

Well, I think you've got your keys.

I figure this damn guy's got to get

something.

She's got the keys, though.

She took the car.

I'll stop back by your house.

I'll get them from her.

Oh, you know where I live, don't you?

Sure.

Oh, okay.

I know where your wife lives.

Oh, you don't do nothing crazy.

Hey, I've already got ten kids.

I don't need any more.

Pain in the butt.

I'll tell you.

Who asked you about your kids?

Just, uh, is he going to go over

there and get the keys?

I'll go get the keys.

All right.

See you guys later.

All right.

Take care.

Men thirst not only for beer, but for

the pleasures of the flesh as well.

A panderer to these base desires was Lenny

Rice, teen tycoon of smut.

And stretch.

Now up.

Up.

Up.

Down.

Down.

That's good.

That's good.

I want you to be in tip-top

shape for tomorrow when we start filming.

You're going to be fine.

I want you to be slim as a

button.

I want you to be hot.

Hot, baby.

You're hot.

Stretch.

Stretch.

Hi.

Yeah, so you want to go to the

movies tonight?

All right.

Keep going.

Hey, so, do you always wear shorts to

work?

At night house security, all our men wear

shorts.

All the time.

Stretch.

Down.

Keep at it, baby.

Going to get your dick wet tonight?

I don't really take girls that way.

They're human beings too.

I mean, they're just like you or I.

We're all people.

Keep moving.

Get up.

Stretch.

Stretch.

Damn her, man.

She's supposed to meet us after third period

so we can go downtown.

She'll probably cut fourth period.

That's not good enough, man.

She doesn't cut it.

Cut what?

Killing lies is the ultimate proof of oneself.

Yeah, my father said that.

Who?

My father, Fleabray, man.

How many times do I have to tell

you?

What?

Those damn cogs I live with aren't my

parents, man.

I was kidnapped as an infant in South

America on the lost child of Martin Borman.

Oh, yeah, kidnapped.

In Paris, there are two caverns, one of

the gamblers and one of the murderers.

Far out, man.

Let's go.

Watch.

Rawhide was reaping the benefits of the latest

in modern educational tools.

Over 2,500 years ago, in the Grecian

city of Myles, lived Pheles, the philosopher.

Most people of his time made beads of

amber, but Pheles made history with it.

For Pheles observed the first known fact concerning

electricity that rubbed amber-draws light objects to

itself.

To Pheles, this meant that amber had a

soul.

To us, it means that the amber had

been electrified or given a charge of electricity.

Miss Weston, you're wanted in the office.

About time.

Sorry.

Thanks for the pig pasta.

I told you to cut that class.

I couldn't.

I...

You can't, man.

Let's go downtown.

One of the certain signs of the self

-conscious collapse of our society is the manner

in which the once coveted crown of education

is pushed away in favor of roaming around

our downtown streets looking for trouble or hanging

out.

Of course, if there's no trouble to be

found, there are many willing to create it

for themselves and others.

Idle hands require innocent victims.

At this point, I'd like to introduce a

professional noted psychologist to explain the violent urges

of these girls.

Dr. Heinz Krimhold.

It has been said that, and indeed it

has been said enough that it is a

cliché, but clichés do often ring true, that

in fact the female is the deadlier of

the species.

And while we can certainly see evidence of

this in the animal world, for instance, so

the lioness hunting through the night while the

male lion lolls about on the veld, or,

say, the black widow spider consuming her mate

in frenzied passion after having consumed him in

passion, consumption following consummation, so to say, we

must turn our attentions to the human species

and the females therein and discover whether violence

is indeed an element that is something inherent

in the female.

For instance, the mad shopping sprees in the

basement of Macy's or perhaps the red talon

-like fingernails that females are so fond of

putting on themselves, or whether it's much more

of a societally developed problem wherein, like a

tigress turning on her own tail, the female

has risen up and, like goddesses of yore,

Diana and Athena, has taken and raised a

new superwoman to rule the world.

I have here photographs of the damage done

to the face of the victim, James Oldenhurst,

by these underage furies' boots.

The Greater Plantsville Emergency Switchboard reported a call

made from a payphone at 1142 at the

corner of Dean and Jansen Streets.

It appeared later that this call was made

by a member of the group of adolescent

girls who called herself Rawhide.

The police responded with typical speed and efficiency.

Over here!

Over here!

Well, what seems to be the trouble, little

lady?

Had any donuts lately?

Well, I had a maple bar at Winchell's

the other day.

But what about this, uh, emergency?

I want to get into your pants.

What do you mean by that?

I want to get into your pants.

Yeah?

Yeah!

When the body of Patrolman Shanley was found,

his policed issue .38 special revolver was missing.

The drunken driver, a menace to our society,

is all too willing to risk the lives

of others for the sake of his own

convenience and amusement.

Get that thing out of my face!

Another example of a needlessly incurred debt to

our already overburdened medical system.

A lost bowling ball found.

What are you looking at?

Get the fuck out of here!

Get out of here!

Meanwhile, back at St. Jerome's School for Girls,

the dance was already getting underway.

I'm up!

I'm up!

Brother Dominic, here at St. Jerome's, I'd like

to welcome you all to our first afternoon

tea dance.

Uh, this afternoon we'll be having one of

our first events for the year.

Uh, excuse me.

Excuse me, sir.

Make a couple of announcements and we can

start.

And this afternoon we're rather pleased to have

as our guest David Noodleman and the Wild

Herd.

And also all the young men who came

across town from the St. Thomas Aquinas High

School.

Uh, excuse me.

Excuse me, just a minute.

Now, before we start, there's a couple of

things I guess you should know.

Uh, one announcement just for the St. Jerome

girls.

I'd like to just mention that if the

Sacramento wine would return to the vestry, there'd

be no questions asked.

Uh, of course, we must mention that there's

no smoking at any time in the cafeteria.

Excuse me a minute.

Yes.

Now, since this is a social event, a

mixer, we'd sort of like to have everybody

mixed together.

There shouldn't be any running off outdoors and

going across the lawn or into the bushes

and stuff like that.

I mean, excuse me.

And of course we have again, I'd like

to point out, as you probably hear, we

have the David Noodleman group in front of

town.

And I think they're about ready to start.

And I think this is about the beginning

of our dance.

I hope you all have a good time.

And I'd like you all to give the

old St. Jerome's cheer to Mrs. O'Leary

for the refreshments and stuff like that.

And Harry Shear, our custodian, will be cleaning

up after you.

I hope to see you.

Please be careful not to spill too much

stuff on the floor.

And if you do, please let us know.

I know that little girl.

I'll tell you what I found.

Little girl is a hate teen.

She don't see love all around.

Hate teen.

She still goes to school.

But I don't think she cares.

You can look if you want.

But you'd better not stare.

Sarah Jacobson later stated under oath that she

went outside the hall where the dance was

taking place in order to smoke a cigarette.

The gang member known as Rawhide ran up

to her.

As she put it, all spazzed out.

Hurry, come quick, these guys.

These guys, they raped Crystal.

Come on.

Rawhide then said that one of the rapists

was leaving the hall.

The three girls proceeded to the parking lot

where they noted a car leaving.

Sarah then stated, Move out, move out.

The girls proceeded to follow the car.

Disappointed with losing their vengeful trail, the posse

returned to their lair in the basement of

St. Jerome's.

But success is often failure turned inside out.

Damn it, Rawhide.

I'm sorry.

Sorry just doesn't cut it.

Doesn't cut it.

You lost the only lead we had of

those pricks who perpetuated and perpetrated the oldest

act of male tyranny on Dorothea.

Per...

per...

it's fine for you to say.

I mean, I've never even tried it.

Man, men are only good for one thing

and they're not even much good at that.

If that's the way you feel, man, you

can just walk now.

Now?

No, it's just, it's just I've never even

done it with a guy.

Man, it's not what you can do with

a guy, it's what you can do to

him.

Do to him.

Get it straight, man.

I mean, I thought you had yourself, you

know, pretty all right with that cop today,

but I've got serious doubts about you now.

I mean, you just blew it, man.

That was our only lead.

Yeah, our only lead except Ricky Bell.

What?

Yeah, our only lead except Ricky Bell.

You mean that stupid fuck that's in all

those sappy movies?

Uh-huh.

What the hell does he have to do

with anything?

I saw him with that guy that drove

off.

Are you sure?

Yeah, I used to go to church with

him.

I've been to his house a few times,

a few years back.

Fleabrain, sometimes you can be such a goddamn

fleabrain.

Yeah.

What are we waiting for?

John Wayne wouldn't just sit around here.

Yes, he would.

John Wayne was a draft dodger.

You say that again and I'll shove that

fake gun of yours down your throat.

John Wayne was a draft dodger.

Give me my real gun back.

I want to show Fleabrain what a real

gun does.

It's mine.

I'll give it to you later.

John Wayne was a draft dodger.

All right, girls, knock it off.

Babies.

Ricky!

Ricky!

You left the gun out!

The five-prong cultivator with which Mrs. Bell's

body was brutally mutilated is currently being held

pending appeal for evidence.

It was at this point in the case

that I was called in to interview Lenny

Rice, the friend of the child actor Ricky

Bell and the discoverer of Mrs. Bell's body.

Do you have any idea why a yearbook

would be missing from Ricky's room?

No, I can't think of anything.

Were you at any time alone with the

body?

Yeah, but I'm not into that shit, man.

All right, you slimy-ass motherfucker, where are

those friends of yours that raped our sister

Dorothea?

I don't know what you're talking about.

Well, we'll get their names one way or

the other, man.

We've got a yearbook.

We'll find them.

Don't you want to make it easier on

yourself?

Look, I don't know what you're talking about.

You want to play fucking hardball, baby?

Then we'll play hardball.

Yeah, fucking hardball.

You little shit.

The fine art of torture is one of

the few arts that humanity is constantly perfecting.

Sometimes it is necessary to step over the

line in order to obtain information in the

quickest possible manner.

I'll talk!

I'll talk!

I'll talk!

The security precautions at Erhard Spogli's house were

enormous.

There were devices set in every corner of

the house.

A large television camera was directed at the

middle of the living room.

And various sound-detecting devices were splayed all

over the walls.

These devices have absolutely no effect if the

front door is left open, as it was

in this case.

The one witness to Erhard Spogli's abduction, one

Oliver Holmes, apparently ran out of the back

door.

The young lady known as Fleabrain caught up

with him in Spogli's pool.

However, it's completely better that he was dealt

with so precipitously.

At a certain point in one's strategy, it

may become necessary to expand one's arsenal.

I know some jerk across town, man.

He's got a shotgun we can drop onto

his roof really easily.

Okay.

Oh, man.

I hope Rawhide doesn't do anything stupid.

You know, she's just...

I'm not really sure she even knows what's

going on.

I mean, you know, you, Fleabrain.

I mean, you're just stupid.

But at least you can follow my lead,

man.

She's just fucking all over the place.

Shit.

Well...

Even if it means delegating responsibility to a

less experienced underling.

Andy Pike.

Marksman, bowling memorabilia collector and bon vivant.

Yes, he's bowled the great alleys of the

world.

And if he loses a moment in reminiscence,

who can blame him?

Roof rats?

Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

Who the hell are you?

Man, I'm stoked on murder.

Sometimes the trees we plant bear unforeseen fruit.

And sometimes they're not.

Sometimes we are not necessarily responsible for all

the responsibilities that have been incurred.

We are like fleas on a bit of

dog rust.

Get up,

Rawh-twat.

What?

What?

What are we gonna do with all these

bodies?

Cut them up and bag them.

Who?

You.

Now?

Yes, now.

But what about the mess?

I'm gonna get- Use this, now.

Now!

Now!

Now!

Now!

Now!

As the day wanes, a certain girl can

be seen making her way through the streets

of Greatest Times Square with a mysterious burden.

I saw someone killed in this house, I

saw someone raped and about, I saw someone

killed in this house.

They've got my friends.

I might be next.

I'm a taxpayer.

Hello?

Not surprisingly, this was taken to be a

crank call.

Although it was noted, nonetheless, and later tuned

out to be a most surprisingly important piece

of evidence.

Pittsburgh?

Any security company.

Okay, thank you.

Of course, responsibility for a person's well-being

ultimately rests with him or herself.

Hello?

Yeah, I need a bodyguard.

Right now.

No, I don't care if he's wearing shorts.

I'll take upstairs.

He ran from violence to seek shelter with

those who study violence.

Well, I

was working down the highway with my baby

next to me.

We were going straight to nowhere, driving easy

as could be.

Well, I heard a road coming.

It was piercing through the air.

And I said to my baby, we got

to go and drag here.

Well, I said to my baby, we got

to go and drag here.

Well, I threw her in a second.

And I dropped to the mat.

And we took it on the highway.

And we lost the crazy cat.

Well, I was feeling mighty proud.

And I saw the crazy cat swooping all

over the sky.

That's Pac-Man.

Well, those ships had domicided.

And I panted for the Syads.

So I'm creature trip at threshold.

He said he wasn't sorry, but deep in

he could not stand it, and he pushed

a little button and blew us off with

a laugh.

Now, class,

I shall demonstrate to you the seven methods

of ninja death.

Method number one, the C-Worm.

Who are you?

Some fucking crazy bitches are after me!

Who are you?

This bozo did one of my sisters wrong.

He's coming with me.

This calls for a game of ninja roulette.

What the hell's ninja roulette?

The winner takes him.

Out of sight, man.

Let's do it.

Sit down.

One bullet.

Either the bullet has your name on it,

or it doesn't.

This one's for Asshole.

General Deliverance.

Hold it, man.

You're pawing the bullet.

Where's Lenny Rice?

He lives 21-11-XMLA in San Mateo.

Where is he?

He's not there right now.

Where is he?

He went to pick up his girlfriend.

Where?

They're going to the movies.

They're in Old Olsenville, 56, black and red.

Can't miss it.

Yeah, we better not, man.

Could it be that this drive-in, so

surreal, so serene by day, is to be

the scene of nocturnal mayhem?

Got my friends in the trunk, and we're

gonna have some fun at the drive-in.

Thank you for coming to the Lex IV

Drive-In Theater.

And now, our feature presentation.

Wandering.

Always wandering.

Wandering still.

How long has it been, teen Rasputin?

Do you remember how long you have wandered

through this desolate wasteland left by the nuclear

remnants of the Fourth Earth Empire?

Do you remember your years of struggle, of

torment?

Do you remember your struggle against the evil

Underground Empire?

We'll drive his car out.

You follow.

Okay, Rawhide?

How they brutally beat you and buffeted you

by the Edsel Graveyard?

Ow!

Ow!

Ow!

Ow!

Whoa!

Ow!

Ow!

Ow!

Ow!

And do you remember how you took your

bloody revenge in the garb of the season

that had been outlawed by the evil Underground

Empire?

I don't know what Ricky is.

I mean, he was supposed to show up

with really good friends.

You know, like, like me and you.

That's what I respect about you, is the

fact that...

Cut it out!

As Fleabrain and Rawhide searched the drive-in

for the final remaining suspect, the movie dragged

on.

And on.

And on.

Stop it!

Why don't you just watch the movie?

Cut!

There's little cartoons, there's

love is cartoons.

Well, it said, they were holding hands, a

little man and woman.

They were holding hands and it said, love

is.

Love is when you like someone a lot.

You know, I really like you a lot.

I really, really like you a lot.

Just more than that, you know, it's also

because I'm your friend.

I'm really here for you.

I'm your friend.

Love...

I really like you a lot.

Perimeter zombies.

That means we must be getting close to

the underground complex.

Soon my vengeance will be unleashed.

Well, if you really don't love me a

lot...

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Ah!

Oh!

Ah!

Fire!

Burning!

Not bad for a beginner.

What?

After subduing Lenny Rice and his girlfriend, Anna

Wickton, Sarah and Fleabrain drove out of the

drive-in in Lenny's car to the appointed

meeting place.

Now the fun starts.

I've got something for you.

But now

St. Heloise hears him.

Later, infinitely later, she hears and speaks to

him.

The kind of night fills his teeth, enters,

roaring into the caverns of his skull.

With her insect-spindly hand, she nudges open

the lid of his tomb.

You might think you heard a goat in

a dream.

She's trembling, but he's trembling far worse than

she.

Poor man.

Poor Antonin Artaud.

For it's really him, this impotent wretch sealing

the stars, trying to confront his weakness with

the cardinal points of the elements, endeavoring to

compose from each of the subtle or solidified

faces of nature one thought that will hold

together, one image that will stand.

If only he could create as many elements,

furnish at least the metaphysics of disaster, the

beginning would be the downfall.

Heloise regrets that she didn't have in place

of her womb a wall like the one

she leaned against when Abelard pricked her with

his obscene sting.

For Artaud, privation is the beginning of the

death he desires.

What a beautiful image, a eunuch.

What?

No!

No!

No!

No!

No!

No!

There are two types of men, those that

leave toilet seats up and those that don't.

Both have oppressed womankind for far too long

and kept her heiresses ignorant of the rightful

place, half of the world in darkness and

chains, its resources tapped at the whims of

the other half.

But a time comes when it is impossible

for subjection and subjugation to continue.

A time comes for a new way of

thinking, for a world without men, an end.

That time is now and for all time.

All the old accepted ideas are in an

advanced state of decay.

If they refuse to die gracefully, then it

is our duty to put them out of

nature and make way for the new women.

You two get the bodies.

I'm going to try to call the hospital.

Yes, what of Dorothea, also known as Crystal?

As she lay in her hospital bed, did

visions of delirium assail her?

Did she wonder if a candle for St.

Michael still burned?

Did the hospital let you talk to her?

I didn't get to talk to her, but

they completed the tests.

She passed out from malnutrition at the dance.

She wasn't raped.

No matter what changes, no matter what advances

are made, I still hate everything, and I

refuse to be forgiven.

We live in a world where we can't

be forgiven.

We learned from our mistakes, and it was

a beautiful and interesting experience.

When I think about how weak I used

to be, it just doesn't seem like the

same person.

And now I'm so strong, so sure of

myself, capable of anything.

Maybe this is a new day dawning, not

only for me, but for all of womankind.