All language subtitles for S05E10 Special Delivery

Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen.

There will be a slight delay
in starting tonight's show.

Our play, "Special Delivery,"
has not yet arrived.

However, it is being rushed to
us by the fastest means available.

Unfortunately, it has a long and
very complicated route to travel.

We haven't much more time, but
I assure you that our producer

will make every effort
to get the message through.

I'm afraid we'll have
to start without it.

Saved.

Just in the nick of time.

Special delivery
for Fortnum.

Yes, that's right.
Thank you.

Good morning, darling.

Oh, for me?

Sorry, no.
It's for your son.

Tom. Tom!

Yeah, Mom?

Mail call!

Oh, boy!

It's from the Great
Bayou Novelty Greenhouse!

Excuse me! Boy!

Why so excited?

Don't you ever read the back
pages of Mechanical Inventions?

Look, here!

See, there
they are.

There they are,
what?

The Sylvan Glade
Jumbo Giant

Guaranteed-Growth

Raise-Them-in- Your-Cellar-for-
Profit Mushrooms!

Well, it looks
like wheat.

The mushroom spawns
in the wheat.

I've got to plant
them of course.

Fabulous growth in just
24 hours, the ad said.

Well, it's better than tree
toads and garter snakes.

It sure is!

Basket.

Happy harvest,
farmer!

Bill, hi! Just the man I
want to see. Come on over.

Well, maybe I better check and
see if Cynthia wants anything.

I'll be right over.

No, no, no. Look.

This can't wait.

I want you to play
psychiatrist for five minutes.

Sure, if it's
important.

Something strange is going on in the world.

Hasn't there
always been?

No, I mean something terrible is happening.

Mrs. Goodbody was complaining
about flying saucers

Hey, Dad,
get the ball.

No, I don't
mean saucers!

Hi, Joe.
Hi, Son.

Tell me, what exactly is intuition?

Intuition?

Well, I'd say it was
subconscious information that

you finally get around to
recognizing with your conscious mind.

Good!

Over a long period of time, things gather.

Like this garage.

You start working with wood,
you don't notice the shavings.

Then one day, you look at the floor,

sawdust.

Dust collects,

and suddenly we
know something.

Have you noticed that more people are
vanishing nowadays than ever before?

Are they? Yeah. Just dropping out of sight.

Old Charlie Bemis, gone.
Ben Hamilton, gone.

More violence, too.
And murders.

But... That's not
what I mean.

I know something
beyond that.

Come on!

Aren't you gonna
let me in on it.

How can I?

It's like the
old verse,

"By the pricking of my thumbs,
something wicked this way comes."

I fear nothing.

I fear everything.

Could be your glands.

Doctor says I'm A1.

Got a wonderful wife and child.
I'm the luckiest man in the world.

Yet, I'm
scared stiff

for me,

for my family,

and even, right
now, for you.

Me?

Uh-huh.

And your friends and your friends' friends.

What are we gonna do about it?

For a few days, Bill, watch everything,

feel everything,

taste everything,
smell everything.

Maybe it's the way the wind
blows through those weeds

in that lot
over there.

Maybe it's the way the sun
hums on the telephone wires.

Come on, Dad, let's play
monkey in the middle.

Okay.

I've never been so sure
of anything in my life.

Something terrible is going to happen.

Well, that's it
for now, fellows.

Bill,

stop,

look,

and listen.

And in a couple of days,
we'll compare notes.

Hey, Pop.

I said that's
enough, fellows.

Roger, I'll be glad to keep an eye peeled,

but, frankly, you've
given me nothing to go on.

I mean, how am I
gonna recognize this

whatever-it-is I'm
looking for when I see it?

Oh, you'll know.

You've got
to know.

If you don't we're done for, all of us.

Am I crazy?

You seem
perfectly sane to me.

I'll see you in
a couple of days then?

Okay.

Bill!

Yes?

Be careful.

Hey, Pop!

What
are you doing?

Being aware.

Looking.

Feeling.

Tasting.

Cynthia,

is your intuition
in working order?

Try me.

Well,

is this earthquake weather?
Is the land going to sink?

Is a hurricane
coming?

Will our delphiniums
die of blight?

Wait a moment.

Let me feel
my bones.

No.

No flood, no hurricane, no blight.

Why?

Oh, I've run into a lot
of doom talkers lately.

Two, anyway.

Hey!

Sorry.

What's wrong, Dad?

Haven't you heard?
The world's ending.

Nope. The way I see it
everybody lives forward.

Attaboy.

What's this?
The crop!

The what?
The mushrooms!

They're doing
great.

Look how
big they are!

Well, by gosh, now!
They really are.

Those are mushrooms, aren't they?

Well, I mean, by mistake,
they couldn't be...

Toadstools?

Heck, Mom. What do you think I am?

Well, I don't mean to criticize,
but, well, how do you tell?

Eat 'em!

If you live,
they're mushrooms.

If you drop
dead, well...

I don't
like them.

Aw, Mom, that's not what you said before!

Well, I'm sorry. I didn't
really think they'd grow.

I thought we'd plant them, they'd
die, and you'd throw them out,

and that'll be that. But now I just...

Boy, when are
we gonna have

the next wet blanket
sale in this house?

Tom.

Never mind. To heck with it!

I just had
to be honest.

I don't know why,
I just had to say it.

I...

Hello?

Oh, hello, Dorothy.

Well, yes, I saw
Roger today...

He what?

When?

Are you sure?

I'll be right over.

Something
happened to Roger?

He vanished.

Disappeared.

Dropped out
of sight.

How long ago did your father leave?

I've no idea. I was just walking
by and saw the closet empty.

All of Dad's
clothes, gone.

You mean, he left the
house without your hearing?

I think he must have packed in five minutes

and walked wherever he was going

so we wouldn't hear a cab
drive up in front of the house.

Well, I'll check the
airport and the train depot.

Dorothy...

Dorothy, was...

Was there anything in
Roger's family background.

You mean Insanity?

Oh, no, nothing
like that.

No, Bill.

Somehow I feel... I
feel he's been kidnapped.

You mean to tell me
that he arranged to pack,

walk out of the house, and
go and meet his kidnappers?

Well, I...
I don't know.

But somehow
I feel that...

That they came into the
house and forced him to leave.

Wait a minute. Roger warned me today.

He said something terrible was gonna happen

to somebody
we know.

But what?

And how?

Bill.

Find him for
me, please.

If it's humanly
possible.

Bill.

Oh, Tom, he's
all right now.

Those darn mushrooms mean so much to him.

Do they?

What about Roger?

He's gone,
all right.

Well...

Doesn't this kind of thing happen
to lots of men in their 40s?

What?

Dreams of youth,

immortal wines,

golden women,

a chance for one last
fling? Maybe to some men,

but not Roger.
He...

Fortnum?
Yes.

Telegram.

Thank you.

Bill.

"Traveling New Orleans.

"This telegram possible
off guard moment.

"Refuse,

"repeat, refuse all
special delivery packages.

"Roger."

What does he mean?

Operator, give me the police, and hurry!

"Refuse..."

Oh, I see.

Well, under the circumstances,
I'm sorry, very sorry.

Thank you.

That was Green City,
downstate.

The police boarded a
southbound train there.

Roger was in
a roomette.

He was traveling alone.

How could that be?

What about
his telegram?

That must have been
sent when his kidnappers

were of their
guard for a moment.

He denies sending any telegram
or that he needs any help.

He was polite,

cheerful, in good spirits, the police said.

Said he was on a quick
business trip downstate.

Much obliged.

Thank you.
Good night.

Good night?

What...

What did
the police do?

What could
they do?

They looked around to see
if anyone had a gun on Roger,

and got off the train.

Well...

As long as
he's all right.

But is he?

Well, you just said...
They said.

After all, they couldn't very
well insist he was in danger,

and drag him off the train? Could they?

Why did he send us
that telegram

warning us not to accept any
special delivery packages?

We never get
any special deliveries.

Just that one
that came for Tom.

New Orleans.

Roger was on his way to New Orleans.

Hello, Dorothy?

Did the police get in touch with you?

Well, yes,
and I don't understand.

Roger told them
to leave him alone.

Oh, I see.

Dorothy,

did your or any member of your family

receive any special
airmail delivery packages

in the last
few days?

Well...

Well, yes.

About three
days ago.

All the boys on the
block are going in for it.

Going in for what?

Why do you ask?

There's nothing wrong with
raising mushrooms, is there?

I said, there's nothing wrong
with raising mushrooms, is there?

Marasmius Oreades.

Fungoid growth.

But how does it fit?

Anyone dead?
No. Anyone poisoned?

Well.

You can't sleep?

Oh, no. Too warm.

Cynthia, what if Roger was right
and a terrible thing is happening?

Like the Earth being invaded
by things from other worlds.

Bill.

How could creatures from outer space
invade us without us not noticing them?

No, I don't mean meteors or flying
saucers, or anything like that, but...

Bacteria comes from outer
space, too, doesn't it?

Seeds, spores,
pollen, viruses

by the billions

hitting the atmosphere
every second

of every hour for
millions of years,

pouring down on us like an invisible rain.

Falling on our cities,
our towns, our street.

Our lawn!

Our lawn?

And Mrs. Goodbody's.

Of course, people like her
are always spraying poisons

and kicking mushrooms off their lawns.

So it would be hard for a strange
new life form to survive in the city.

Yes.

Maybe they'd be better off down south, say,

Alabama, Louisiana.

Back in the
dark bayous,

mightn't they grow
to a fine size?

Oh.

Oh, really.

You don't seriously believe, do you, that

the Great Bayou or whatever
the greenhouse novelty company

that sent Tom
his package

is owned and operated
by six-foot-tall mushrooms

from another
planet?

Good heavens, Cynthia. There
is some connection between

Roger, mushrooms,

special delivery telegrams,
Mrs. Goodbody, the whole works!

Don't get angry. Oh, I'm
not! It's just that...

Think how insidious
this plan could be.

These creatures
from another world

establish a greenery

then advertise in
Mechanical Inventions,

"Grow giant mushrooms
for profit."

And a million boys
send in their money.

Tonight, this very minute, in
how many homes all over the USA,

are billions of mushrooms being grown
by innocent boys in their cellars!

Now I know
you aren't serious.

Well, half serious.

Mushrooms,
however big,

can't think or feel.

Well, they haven't
got arms or legs.

How could they run
a mail order business

and take over the world?

Come on, let's go see your monsters!

There! There are your terrible fiends!

Come on,
I'll fix you a snack.

Get the milk,
will you, darling?

Cynthia, did you put these
mushrooms in the refrigerator?

No. Tom must have.

Close the door,
will you?

Cynthia,

there is a way for the
mushrooms to grow arms and legs.

What if a man wandering through the swamp

picked them up

and ate them?

Once inside,

would not the mushrooms
spread through his blood,

and take over
every cell,

change that man from a man to a

Martian?

Maybe Roger ate some of the
mushrooms given to him by his son

and was changed
into something else.

But in one last moment of
sanity, of being himself,

he sent us a telegram, warning
us not to accept any mushrooms,

by special delivery.

Now, couldn't that
be it, couldn't it?

I've had enough of this! I'm going to bed!

Tom?

Don't put
the light on, Dad.

It's bad for
the mushrooms.

Tom?

Why did you put the
mushrooms in the refrigerator?

Because I wanted you
and Mother to eat them.

You...

You didn't eat any of them yourself?

Yes.

I did.

You're hungry,
aren't you?

You're hungry.

You're hungry.

I think that story has
a very comforting message

for mushrooms
all over the world.

I'm seriously thinking

of starting a counter movement
to persuade the mushrooms

to grow people in
their basements.

Now that we've seen our play,

I think we'll send it back.

Until next time, good night.