All language subtitles for Obituary.2023.Ie.S01e02_4_text

EMERSON:
Okay, okay. How about this?

I heard a rumour
that there's this beef farmer,

not too far from here, feeding
angel dust to his cattle. Nope.

Okay...

What about an article on untreated
sewage in the drinking water? Nah.

Nepotism in the council? No.

A yoga teacher who is also
running a brothel?

Emerson...

we need to give the locals
a reason to buy a local paper.

People around here couldn't give a
toss if their water smells funny.

They don't question why
their steaks are big and juicy.

Or why John Joe gave John Joe Jr
the contract to cut the hedges.

Well, what do they want?
You tell me and I'll write it.

In a small town, not more
than 50 miles from here,

there was a robbery
in a post office.

Now, tomorrow, their local paper
is going to run a story on it.

It's a cracker. I presume
you've heard. No.

9 am.

A guy walks into
the post office.

He's all alone in the place.

Well, apart from the tellers,
right? Teller.

There's only one working
this morning

because her co-worker
called in sick, so...

The guy that walks in, is holding
a fistful of helium balloons.

And when he releases them...

They float up and cover
the security camera.

Look who woke up. Camera covered,
the robber pulls down his hoodie--

And he pulls out a gun
and he points it at the teller,

whose finger is about
to press the alarm.

'I didn't press it,' she says.

'I know,' says he.
'How do you know?' she says.

'Because you'd be dead
if you did.'

That's a nice line. Totally invented
by the fella writing the story.

I'll tell him you said so. Do!

So, with the gun pointed at her,
the teller grabs a big envelope

and she starts to pile the cash
into it. And when she's done,

she gives it to the robber. And...

And what?

And that's it.

He leaves with the money.

Now, what have you
learned from this?

That stories need better endings
than that. True.

But think big picture.
That story is like something

you'd see on TV - not something
that happens here.

THAT'S what the readers want.

Guns, crime, twists, turns.

Not 400 words about
their local yoga teacher

being a bit of a prozzie.

But most importantly,
good stories aren't something

I can look out the window
and see for free.

Oh... what happened to
the robber? Did he get caught?

There's only one way to find out.

You'll have to buy a newspaper.

(spooky music)

ELVIRA V/O:
Killing is like eating.

'Put it off for too long,
and you become ravenous.'

'Where and when this all ends,
who knows.

I only know that I've given Tom
here, enough rope.'

'And he's decided to hang himself.'

(tractor engine humming)

'The man's had every opportunity

to prove that
he doesn't deserve this.'

'That he shouldn't be the one
to put a smile on my face.'

'And yet... nothing.'

'Only confirmation that
a life must end.' (mobile ringing)

(dog barking)
Shut up! To fuck!

(barking) Shut up!

'And that I get paid.'

Hold on, Mammy. He's your son.
You deal with him.

He can say what he wants.

It's my land. My cattle go
wherever they like.

'Hang up.'

He said what?!
Come on!

Stay where you are!
I'm on me way.

(banging)

'All he did was put off
the inevitable.'

'His death, and my happiness.'

'Oh, I'm not done with Tom.
Not by a long shot.'

Good morning.
I got your mail by mistake.

Do you have any Panadol?
I don't believe in taking pills.

Why? Do you believe in pain?

No, I believe in paying
for your fun.

Good night out with Mal?

V/O: I know. He's attractive,
and smart, and my type.

'But he's with her now.
And I have bigger fish to fry.'

Hey, do you fancy going on the hop?

It's just Hughie.
He keeps knocking me back.

'What the hell is this?!'

(Emerson keeps talking)

'And who the hell wrote it?'

So I thought, you know what?

I'll ask Elvira.

Thought you might inspire me.

Uh... post office.

Okay, I'll take a look.
Dad's collecting his dole.

I said I'd run him home.

(mysterious music)

Have you no shame, Ward?

Do you not care
what people think?

Scrounging off the government
like that?

Why not do something
with your life?

Show some initiative.

You're right, Veronica.

You're absolutely right.

How are ya, Joan?

40/1. You got a tip?
No, it's all my own work.

Some balls you got, Ward.
It's not balls, Joan.

It's initiative.

Touch me for luck?
(chuckles)

Slan abhaile!

I'm owed and you're betting
on the ponies.

Patsy, you know the drill!

All financial transactions are
to be conducted in my office.

And I will see you, over there!

First pint's on me!

(horn toots)

I'll tell you what,
that horse is a dead cert.

It won't touch a twig.

You should have heard what she said
to me, that Veronica Sloan.

You'd think my dole money was
hers, the way she was acting.

Somebody should really--
What, do something about her?

You said you were getting paid.
I also said we've bills overdue.

That's not even the price of
admission. There's eight quid over!

You couldn't get two pints for that!
Then buy three glasses.

What's got into you?

(glove compartment clunking)

Anonymous hate mail.

The writer claims that I'm a--

'You're nothing
but a third-rate reporter

working for a failed newspaper.'

'A sentimental hack with
a limited vocabulary.

Your prose is laborious,
with a grasp of...'

'... grammar so poor, it would make
a six-year-old blush.'

Callum, you're six. Does Elvira's
grammar make you blush?

'Each column arrives D.O.A,

with articles possessing the...

.. emotional resonance
of instructions

on the side of a Lego box.'

Whoa. 'You, Miss Clancy,
make Maeve... Binchy?

.. look like--
Dostoevsky. What do I do?

Bin it. And let it eat me alive?

(Mal snorts)

Buy it.
It will give you a lift.

Dad dropped 50 quid
on a horse today.

50 quid, we don't have.

Our English teacher, Mrs Bourke.

You think she wrote it? No!

She made us write an essay once.
You got 62%.

Flipped. Do you know
what marks I got?

Less than 62%.

You always took that stuff
in your stride.

I was too busy defending you.

I spent that week clattering anyone
that said a bad word about ya.

And for that I'm grateful.
Yeah, well, I wish I hadn't.

We got names for ourselves.

Names we never shook.
You...

The space cadet
with the dead mother.

And you... The dumb jailbird
with the dead aul' wan.

Wasn't there another one?

Callum, where's your
baby brother?

Well, go get him then.

(whispers) Christ on a bike!

Does babysitting pay well?

It does when you're on the dole.

It's definitely written by a man.
Oh my God!

Did you not hear what I just said?!

Ignore it. Do what you do best.

Which is what, exactly?

Write something so good this wanker
never lifts a biro again.

#

(keyboard tapping)

(Ward chuckling)

No letter talk, I said.
No, it's funny.

Why, 'cos it laughs at me?
No, it's full of tell-tale signs.

Look! Unusual penmanship.

That is basically
a trail of breadcrumbs.

It's like our poison-pen friend

is begging to be caught.

If they wanted to be caught,
they'd have signed their name.

They virtually have.

What use is it knowing that
this person dots their I's funny,

or that their T's slant at an angle?
Where are you going? You're broke.

Who says I'm buying?

Oh Dad, don't leave me like this.
You don't need me.

You're going to be in the box room,
chasing after your breadcrumbs.

They're all in there.

Go find him!
No, no... the box room?

(switch snapping)

(Elvira sighs)

(male voice singing)

# I loved you as I loved you

(audience cheering)

# When you were sweet

# When you were sweet

# Sixteen

(cheering, clapping)

Thank you! It gets a bit wild
in here on dole day, huh?

Nothing compared to when
the children's allowances comes out.

Now what about you? Are you
going to get up and sing?

I heard you do a pretty good
'Stayin' Alive'.

Remind me of our deal again?
Drinks for a chat.

A rum and coke, right? Good man.

Someone's done their homework.

#

Ach, now Patsy! I want my fiver.

Well, you're not getting your fiver.

You're getting a tenner.

I just want the fiver. I know...

But you give me a fiver,
and I'll give you a tenner.

Think of it as interest.
(Patsy sighs)

Good man, Patsy!

Right.

Where is it? Oh, dole day.
Dole day.

(Patsy groans)
Right Patsy, hop it!

There's a young buck here
I need to school

on the ins and out
of his new town.

Now! Do you know Patsy?
Yeah. Great singer.

Gifted. Cheers, Patsy.
I'll catch you later.

(Emerson sighs)

(clears throat)

Now, about this story.
Yeah, it's about Kilraven.

You know, half the people in
this town are on the dole.

And the other half, the good people,
they don't, right?

I don't. No, no. You stopped
working a few years back.

Listen, if you're going to
write a story

about dole spongers by the sea,
please leave me out of it.

Why did you stop working?

It was... around the time
that woman was killed, wasn't it?

That Austrian, or Swiss or--
German. German.

(sarcastic chuckle) But I guess
you already knew that.

See, I think you've been talking
to Clive Cavendish.

And he's been putting ideas
in your head.

I tell ya, it's a dangerous game.

You know the night she was murdered,
she drank right here.

You were here too, right?
Do you know,

people in this town get a bit...
testy when that subject is broached.

You're probably better off
sticking with your dole-fraud story.

Well, Ward. They're not the ones
buying your booze now, are they?

#

Mam!

But I didn't really know Maria.
Yeah, but you knew of her.

I knew she was a novelist,
or something, you know?

She said she was heading home.
She'd a one-way ticket to Hanover.

Her handbag, her passport
and her ticket were never found.

Yeah, I know it's tragic.
Ya think?

Well, she was an outsider here.
The people just didn't take to her.

Yeah, why was that?

Because they're fucking weirdos.
(Emerson chuckles)

Look, take me through that night.
I heard you left after she did.

(exasperated sigh)
Look, I was blotto.

My head was this gaping abyss.

You see now, that's where
I have a problem.

You see, up until that night,
people say-- What people?

These fucking weirdos.

They say you were
a quiet man. Took no more

than a few jars in your local and
then... I dunno. Something changed.

I wasn't the only one
that was in here that night.

But you were here,
and you were sober.

Well, Mallory and... uh...
Hughie were here.

I'll get to them. Yeah, but they're
not going to tell you anything.

I tell you who you're better off
talking to - Garda Mulcahy.

Yeah. I tried that. No luck.

That's the thing about rogues,
you see?

You scratch her back,
she'll scratch yours.

Like a lot of people in this town,
I don't think she likes me.

Well I think you've got
a fresh problem now. Which is?

I drink faster than you ask
questions.

On you go.

(Emerson chuckles)

#

I left at 11. Maria was gone.

I went to the chipper,
and then straight home.

And Elvira can confirm this.

What, that I went to the chipper?
No, that you came home.

Are you accusing me of something?
No, no, no...

I'm just trying to put together
a timeline here, okay?

My daughter was going through
a rough time back then.

Elvira... wake up!

She can't remember a thing.
Well, she seems WAY better now.

Yeah, well she's a work in progress.

Listen, I don't want you mentioning
any of this to her, ever. Okay?

Say I do...
what happens then?

Do I end up in the forest
with a bullet in my gut?

As I said,

that's a dangerous game.

What is?

Putting ideas into people's heads.

Get yourself a wee drink.

ELVIRA V/O:
Among all this banality,

there is a match in here somewhere

and I won't quit until I find it.

#

(seagulls crying)

(knocking)

Does a 'Mr. Stewart' live here?

Andrew's my husband, yeah.

Yeah, well, your husband has
been writing to me. Nasty letters.

(laughing) I don't think so.
The man is... sick.

You've made a mistake. Really?

I'd like to hear HIM say that.

You're right. He is sick.

He also hasn't written in years.

I-I'm sorry, I didn't--
Next time you try this,

you better be sure.

'I've done this wrong.'

'Rather than look at
how something is written,

I need to look at what is written.'

#

'Make Maeve Binchy look
like Dostoevsky.'

Peggy Brunswick!

#

ELVIRA V/O:
As I said, intel is essential.

'So it's time to see
what Peggy fills her day with,

when she's not writing
those delightful letters.'

#

Anything else?

(hiccups)

Hey, Toni.

Orders the same bowl of soup
every day.

And takes over an hour to eat it.

(hiccups)

What's with the--
The hiccups?

She's had them for years.

Something to do with her heart.
Not that she has one.

Sorry, but fuck that old woman.

My first day here,
she goes on about how--

(hiccup) --girls who have
abortions are murderers.

And the worst part?

Not ONCE has the bitch ever
tipped me.

(hiccup)

#

ELVIRA V/O: While Peggy plays
with her soup,

I've got one whole hour
to find what I need.'

(tense music)

(door opening)

(door slamming)

(footsteps on stairs)

(door slamming)

How did you get on
with that letter?

I burnt it.

Jeez, I couldn't do that.

I guess that makes us...
more different than I thought.

Dad... am I a good person?

Where's this coming from?
I met someone today.

He's a real cool dude.
Bill?

He has down syndrome.
Yeah, Bill Butler.

He's quite the character.

Did you know that he goes
out of his way

to do an old woman's shopping?

Just made me think, you know,

that maybe I could be
a better person.

I don't think Bill does Peggy's
shopping out of choice.

Really? Yeah.

You see, the bauld Bill

broke Peggy Brunswick's
window with a sliotar.

And poor Bill's mammy
doesn't work.

So to pay it off, Peggy makes Bill
do her daily shop.

That's awful.

Yep.

That's me done for the day.

(tired groan)

Elvira...

.. am I a good father?

You made me, didn't you?

I mean, doesn't
that answer your question?

That... bitch!

(door closing)

'Third-rate reporter!'

'Laborious prose.'

'A grasp of grammar so poor,
it'd make a six-year-old blush!'

No, no, no!
Can't be having that.

ELVIRA V/O: Sorry Peggy, but this
won't be some half-assed suicide.

'This? This will be a work of art.'

'And there's nothing more
artful than a letter from Peggy,

killing Peggy!'

#

'Like sit-ups and skate-boarding,

turns out forgery
is a lot harder than it looks.'

(sigh)

(paper crunching)

'Dear, Bill. I turn to you
in my time of need...'

PEGGY'S VOICE:
'There's a job that needs doing,
so delicate, no one may know.'

'My affliction, hiccups,
requires an urgent cure.'

'A shock to the system, that will
make my life, finally, bearable.'

'I am enclosing 150 euro
as payment.

The task is simply...'

'.. wear a mask, then on
a night of your choosing,

so that I'm unaware, frighten me
with a fright so frightening,

it would 'almost'
scare me to death.'

'For this Bill,
I will be forever grateful.'

'Your friend, Peggy.'

She was heading to bed

and you came charging
out of a room.

You gave her a shock and she
fell back down the stairs.

Is that what happened?

(applause)

Peggy's obit, to die for!

(whispers) I love you...

ELVIRA V/O:
A girl can dream.

'But a girl can also make
those dreams a reality.'

(foreboding music)

(door closing)

(hiccup)

(car alarm wailing)

'Killing is a race.
Not between you and victim.'

'But between you and God.
And I don't like to lose.'

Someone do something!
I think she's gone.

V/O: No, no! If she dies,
I won't get to kill her!

(effort grunts)

Come on!

Well, at least those hiccups
have stopped.

#

Shit.

Clancy?

(clicking)

That was fast.
I've not read it yet.

Speaking of fast, how did
you write it so quick?

It just flowed out of me. Yeah?

Well, I wish it hadn't.
Why, is there a problem?

Yeah... Peggy.

From day dot,
she wasn't a fan of yours.

She made it clear that as long
as you worked in this paper,

she didn't want you
writing her obit.

I should have said!
But--

I tried to save her life! You
know what old people are like.

So who's going to
write it then?

Does that mean I won't get paid?

Hughie, I'm broke.
And now deeply depressed.

Sorry, Clancy.

No pay if you're not in the paper.

Is there anywhere else
you can get some cash?

(gate clangs)

ELVIRA V/O: Something's up. My
letter should have arrived by now.

Morning, Bill. How are you?
I'm good!

Oh, come on!

I posted it four days ago.

Letters arrive, when they arrive!

Eh... now keep your voice down.

Have... have you been drinking?

Oh, the apple doesn't fall
far from the tree.

Excuse me?

People are looking.
So?!

Who's next?

V/O: Him... if I have my way.

Well, Veronica.
'Tis younger you're getting.

(giggling)
This is my favourite part.

'Poorly written and lacks any sort
of meaningful content.'

(sniggering)

Oh... sorry, Elvira.

I got your post by mistake.

It's just Hughie messed up again.

Wow, this concerned reader
seems really concerned.

Our readers pay our salary, Kate.

Their concern are our concerns.

V/O: Peggy posted this the same day
as I posted my letter to Bill.

'Who happens to be a nice kid,
only nice doesn't pay the bills.'

'My money comes home with me!'

Before writing obituaries

I like to grab a word
with the nearest and dearest.

Since Peggy didn't have
any family,

ye're it.

So, anything you'd like to add?

Peggy was a bitch!

He never talked like that
before he met her.

That bitch!

Can you quote him on that?
You agree with him?

Worst person I've ever met.
Wasn't she Bill?

A total bitch.

Okay, but uhm...

I suppose I like to dig deeper.
If someone dies

and they were... despised,
well, there's a reason for it.

You really want to know
what made her so messed up?

Absolutely.

The reason she was horrible was...

(letterbox rattling)

Hey, I'll get that.
No, I'll do it.

Hear you're into hurling.

Bill...

Oh my God!

Wait 'til you see this letter!
I get so many mental letters.

What is it? She's named Bill
as a beneficiary in her will.

I get her money? Her house.

Which means...
whatever happens to me,

you'll be okay. (sniffs)

(weeping)

About that stuff we said.

Peggy was a saint.

And we'd hate anyone
to think we thought different.

Oh, but my job is about
being truthful.

So painting Peggy as some saint--
Which she was!

I'm sorry, but we won't have
a bad word about her.

(tense music)

(chatter)

WARD: Relax, Patsy.
You'll get your money.

Not outside, give it to me in here
before we go.

I'll give it to you in here, right?

Now, will you get off me back.
Just, I'm asking...

(voices fade)

Put everything in an envelope.

I'm all out.
Well, a bag then.

Sorry, scumbag.
I'm out of those too.

I read about you.
Say something?

I was just saying, you shouldn't
let her talk to you like that.

What do you want me to do,
pop her?

Bit more work for the daughter!
You're telling me to kill her?

I didn't... I didn't say that.
What kind of a town is this?

Look, I'm a thief, okay?
Not a murderer.

(angry groan)

D'ya know what, bud?

(gagging)

Maybe you're right.
Maybe I am a killer.

(muffled speech)
What did you say?!

Well? I said,
there's somebody behind you.

Aghh...oh!

(groaning)

No, nah, nah.

What am I supposed to
do now Ward, look!

Patsy, can you not see
I'm a bit busy at the moment?

But I need my money.

Look... 40/1 shot, dead cert.
There you go.

(Garda sirens wailing)

#

What?

No!

(music builds)

Where's my money?

(sniffs)

(mobile phone ringing)

Is he okay? No, I asked him
if he wanted a drink.

He said he'd have a coffee.
Jesus.

Thanks for staying with him.
I really appreciate it. Yeah.

Do you mind if I stay
a little longer?

It's a cool story.
I want to see how it ends.

Hey... how are ya?

God forgive me for the things
I said about Tom Quigley.

That man's a hero.

He did what anyone else would do.
Yeah, but if he wasn't there.

You mean if I had killed him.
I'd be dead.

He saved my life.
Yeah, well...

It looks like he saved his own life
too.

And that Veronica Sloan.
Do you know,

she pulled down
the shutters on her window.

That cow acts like every penny
in that place belongs to her.

ELVIRA V/O: Of course, she does.

'Because she's stealing from it.'

'That envelope reeked of glue.'

Give me two ticks.
I'm just gonna see this race.

(distant sound
of racing commentary)

What's with the look?

Oh, just something Dad said.
About the robbery?

V/O: Huh, which one?
Come on, Emerson, take the bait.

Shit... the Teller.
There you go!

The one who acts like every penny
in the place belongs to her?

Look, I know you need this.
Well, there's an understatement.

But... I don't like gossiping.
Then consider yourself a source.

Everything is strictly between us.

Come on! I'm already doing
a story on the robbery.

This is the cherry on top.
It's the perfect ending.

The locals will love it.
Of course, they'll love it.

Just tell me.
Come on, to me!

Have there been rumours that this
Veronica person has been stealing?

Yes, I don't believe it! Ha, ha!

Good man, Ward.
That was some tip, boy.

Ha, ha, ha!
"A stunning performance..."

Yeah, well done Patsy.

I couldn't be happier for ya.

(door banging)

(knocking)

I was wondering when you'd call.

Where's the photographer?

You are here to talk about
the robbery, right?

Well, it depends, Veronica.

On what? On which robbery
we're talking about.

#

(car door closing)

Make it quick.
I've a story about to go.

On Maria Riedle?
On someone stealing money

from the people of this town.

We're talking 20 grand
over ten years.

Have you talked
with this criminal mastermind?

She admitted everything. She?

Said she did it right
under everyone's nose.

Now, when people read this story,
they'll ask,

'How did this happen?'
Then they'll ask,

'Who let it happen?'

And you know
who they'll point the finger at.

You want to make a swap.

Otherwise, you wouldn't be
here, you'd publish it.

I'll hold off. Give you time to...

.. get the jump on me.

And in return you want...?

The DPP file.

For Riedle?

No chance. It's in a vault.

Was. 'Til last year.

How do you know that?

On the sly, Cold Case
are taking another look.

They digitized the whole file.
A file I'd really, really love

for you to print off for me.

I could lose my job.

Or with what I'm about
to give you,

you could help your job.

Do you know,
you remind me of someone.

Oh, cool, who?

I can't remember.

But they annoy
the shit out of me.

Well, that's not very nice.
Oh, and neither are you.

Now...

.. does this thief have a name?

(knocking)

Veronica! Open the door.

(seagulls crying)

#

Ah, Veronica.

Hmm.

Another problem? Huh?

With Veronica's obit?

No.

It's a solid piece of work.

You tell the reader,
without telling the reader,

that this was a complex
and lonely person.

I kinda feel for her.

Veronica's life was a cry for help.

Hopefully, when this town reads it,
they won't see a monster.

They'll see someone who did
bad things, but had their reasons.

Veronica had unmet needs,
needs we can't understand.

and--and, if stealing helped that,
then it's a price worth paying.

Right.

Hmmm.

I can't understand...

.. why Veronica killed herself.

Call me old-fashioned,
but she was a tough cookie.

It's always the last one
you suspect.

I dunno.

It feels off.

Veronica doesn't strike me
as a suicide.

I'm sorry, Hughie, but that's kind
of an insensitive thing to say.

Not if it's the truth.

Hold on, I'm not done.

Emerson's in a bad way.

I think he blames himself
for going too hard on Veronica.

Can you have a word?
Oh, I don't think I--

Please. This is... your kinda thing.

Suicides? The bereaved.

And right now,
Emerson is grieving.

(sigh)

(door opening)

I think we look at death
all wrong.

I think we should look at it
as freedom.

Talking to families,
after a death,

they always say something like:

'They're finally at peace.'
Or, 'At least they're free now.'

Give them time. They'll tell you how
much pain this person was in.

Because everyone's in pain.

And Veronica,

she was no different.

You didn't hurt her.

You freed her.

(sigh)

She lived in fear.
The shame of being caught.

And now that fear is gone.

That's how you need to look at it.

That's how I look at it and...

.. it works for me.

I'm not cut up because
of what Veronica did.

No? No.

I can tell you this, right?
Yeah-- you can tell me anything.

Veronica made her own decisions.

Right, to steal. Then to end
her own life. Exactly.

That's not on me.
No, it's not. No.

What bothers me is...

That it took someone dying for you
to write something this good.

You've read it? Twice.

And? It's the best thing
I've read in yonks.

(chuckles)

So that's what's bothering you.

That you benefited
from someone's death,

and it made you feel...
Happy.

(whispers)
Don't worry. I won't tell anyone.

Not even, Mal.

No, I already told Mal.

Really?

What did she say?

That I should talk to you.

That no one gets this stuff
better than Elvira Clancy.

#

(seagulls crying)

At least someone's getting some!

Oh here, I got you something.

For me? Mmhmm.

Can you afford this?
Oh, what am I saying?

Of course, you can.

Not anymore, I can't.

I lost the babysitting gig.
What happened?

That little shit Callum.
That we took shopping?

Mmm, squealed to his Mam.
I had his baby bro

doing a little 'off-the-books'
retail therapy.

Including this.
I taught him everything I know.

But that's not even the worst part.

His mother reported me
to the dole.

I might have to get a real job.

Look, I've had a good week,
if you need cash. Nah.

I got an upgrade on my phone.
Found a dude who wants to buy it.

That lippy was to cheer you up.

Looks like you don't need it.

I took your advice.
About the letter.

Ignored it, went home
and wrote up a storm.

Good for you.

You're not sticking around?
Gotta bounce.

Celebration drink with Emerson.

He's had a good week too.

ELVIRA V/O: I used to be able
to hear Sandy scream.

'That memory is fading now.'

'That must be how this goes.'

'Still, new memories are forming.'

'Better memories.'

'Memories I could only dream of.'

(whimpering)

(chilling music)

Changed your mind--
Sorry.

I thought you were my friend.
Not yet.

Do you come here often?

I do. Every day.

Even that day Mr Benson fell.

V/O: Oh no... no, no, no!

I can still hear him scream.

Seeing him fall like that...

It plays in my head over and over--

I'm sorry, do I know you?
Not yet, Elvira.

But we're going to do something
about that.

See you around.

V/O: Not if I see you first.

(music builds)

#