Original subtitles

In the sprawling dark of night,

when all is still, that's when it can be heard,

the hum.

A ceaseless, enigmatic tone,

heard only by a gifted few,

its origin unknown.

Electromagnetic energy?

Alien transmission?

Perhaps, the echoes of some distant alternate dimension?

Perhaps, even the sound of our very doom.

If you ask me, I don't care.

Because I prefer the hum...

...of my tricked-out IROC Z28!

- Yeah! - Whoo-hoo! Oh, yeah!

Enjoy the show, my babies!

Good morning, USA.

Steve, I'm gonna tell you the same thing I said to Jackie Collins, that one time.

No writing at the table on Barbecue Chicken night.

Sorry, I'm just trying to decide which school work-study program to choose.

It's either apprentice under weatherman Memphis Storm front at Channel 3 News,

or Buckle at his Urology Clinic.

Sounds like either way, you're gonna be dealing with drips.

Ba-dum-tss!

But which one guarantees me a good grade?

Which one is certain to put me on the path to success?

Oh, Steve, no one knows for certain what their future holds.

I don't want to end up as one of those losers living with parents as an adult.

- Hey! - Sorry.

No, no. What I mean is, I don't want to be one of those poor dopes

who lives their whole sad life in the town they grew up in.

- Hey! - So, what, you're too good for us now?

No, I love you guys. I do.

It's just, I guess, I've always seen more for myself than,

you know, this.

I feel you, Steve.

Big dreamers like you and me, we gotta spread our golden wings.

One day, we hit that open road and never look back.

Actually, Dad, when I say "this," that includes you.

Roger, quick, bring the fainting divan!

Sorry, Stan, already in use,

'cause one of my personas just received some shocking news.

Everybody, look the other way for a second.

- No. - I already changed, anyway.

Walt Whipman, whip-crack-session musician.

I provide the whip-crack sounds

for the many kinds of music that require them.

Rawhide-style TV Western themes, Devo cover bands,

and the list goes on and on.

Unfortunately, I earned something of a reputation back in the day

for heavy drinking, shaky hands,

and always accidentally whipping my fellow musicians in the face.

Anyway, I just heard my old musician pal Roscoe,

is now a big-shot producer in Nashville,

which obviously means that is comeback time.

Why is there an ice cream scoop in my whip holster?

Can we please get back to my real problem here?

Which one of these work-studies is the right choice?

Oh, now, you're looking for advice from your horrible family?

Seriously, just flip a coin, why don't you?

Maybe that's all I can do.

Does anybody else hear that hum?

Well, here goes nothing.

Looks like I'll be taking my talents to Channel 3.

Great. Okay, whatever.

Now, who's coming with me on my journey of redemption?

"Look. Up."

Pack your shit. We're going to Nashville.

And over there, is our star anchor, Greg Corbin.

Oh, we're actually neighbors. Hi, Mr. Corbin.

Me, though, I'm an open book.

You want to know anything about me, just ask.

Well, one thing I have always wondered, is Memphis Storm front your real name?

Oh, my, no.

I sure would have been a born weatherman

if my name was really Memphis Storm front.

So, what is your real name?

Toledo Tornado.

I changed it, so no one would find out I'm Italian.

- Now, what do you want to see next? - How about the Doppler?

- The Doppler? - Yeah, the Doppler 12,000.

- It's up on the roof, right? - Who told you about the Doppler?

The announcer, at the beginning of every news broadcast.

I don't have time right now. It's actually pretty boring.

It's a safety hazard. The Doppler is off limits.

So, just get the hell off my back about it, okay?

Don't mind him.

He's weird about that Doppler.

- Oh, hey, what's your name? - Gässup E. Piyé.

- French... Danish? - No. Memphis has been on edge lately,

probably because his forecast accuracy has been way down.

And he knows he's on thin ice.

Poor Memphis.

More like poor you!

Because if Memphis gets the ax, so does your work-study program.

And it's too late to switch to Buckle's urology clinic

because Barry already took that spot.

That's right, I'm aware of Barry.

Bye-bye.

Stairs!

That's got to hurt.

Get away from me!

Now, we turn to the weather. What do you got for us, Memph?

Cold, Greg, and lots of it. Perfect conditions for tomorrow's first-ever

Langley Classic Outdoor Hockey Invitational.

So, pack an extra set of clamps 'cause it's gonna be nippy.

The entire starting lineup of the Roanoke Ice Wasps is dead

because of your faulty forecast. And I had 30 bucks on that game,

- Toledo. - Mannaggia, Dio!

Ugh. The late, great Dickie Dobbins never had this kind of trouble.

Using the very same Doppler as you, I might add.

- You leave the Doppler out of this! - You screw up just one more time,

and you'll be... Does anyone else hear that humming sound?

No?

Nobody? Out on your ass!

You're going to fire me, old man, how about I...

How about that?

Mr. Storm front, do you think, after all these wrong forecasts,

maybe we should check out the Doppler to make sure it's working right?

The Doppler is fine! Hey, check this out! Roundhouse!

It's just, I really don't want to lose this work-study.

Shh... It's listening.

Stay away from the bloppler, kid.

Stay away.

Screw this, I'm checking it out.

The Doppler is not even plugged into the station's computer system.

He hasn't been using it at all.

All right. Nothing too out of the...

Oh, my God, that thing doesn't forecast the weather.

It shows the future!

Then again, I'm sure I saw Snot-winning Prom King in there.

So, maybe it's just a bunch of random BS.

Sure it was all just part of a cruel prank planned by the popular kids,

and, I have reason to believe, some of the teachers.

But I'm still just absolutely over the moon!

Stay away from the bloppler, kid.

What could be so dangerous about taking a little peep into the old futuro?

Oh! Is this the Mayor's mansion?

This is tomorrow.

Delilah, darling, I have grand news.

The Sharks are going to the championship.

The game was such a rout, that I left early in... What?

Coach Trey!

My best friend!

Jimmy, it's not what it looks like.

We're not just resting in bed together.

Until a few seconds ago, we were having sex, too!

You'll pay for this cuckolder! Just bear with me one sec.

Jimmy. Jimmy, baby, please.

- Stop and think! - Jimmy, babe.

- Look at my neck... - It meant nothing...

- ...it's pleading with you! - ...please, baby!

- Jimmy, I love you, baby. - Jimmy!

Oh, my God! I have to do something.

Incredible tip on that playoff blowout, Steve.

That's just the kind of thing that can earn a boy an A-plus on his work-study.

If you catch my meaning, wink. Wink, wink, wink!

Roscoe, thank you so much for agreeing to meet me here.

I didn't.

You and your boyfriend followed me in here.

You're looking great. I'll tell you that.

Except for that... Yuck... On your face. What happened there?

- You whipped me many years ago. - Oh, God, I was hoping not to talk shop,

but since you brought it up, I'm guessing

you saw my ad in the Country Music Trades.

That's supposed to say "whip-crack."

I was pretty drunk when I ordered the ad, but I've cleaned up since then,

and now, I'm totally sober and ready to lick crack.

You know what I mean.

Listen, Walt, I am about to record a new Rawhide-style TV Western theme

and am in desperate need of a whip man.

But it's just... All those faces you whipped...

Now, you listen to me, race car.

You have to give this man another shot.

Without second chances, where would any of us be?

Didn't America give the South the second chance after the Civil War?

Sure, that one turned out to be a huge mistake,

but the point still stands, and that point is...

...something about Roger?

Walt Whipman, whip-crack session musician.

All right, I'll give you one shot.

Say, you fellas hear that strange kind of humming sound?

No. Here, would you mind covering your face up with this napkin?

Day after day, just one hot sports tip and new scoop after another.

And now, I'm rich, rich as Sir Topham Hatt.

How do you do it, Steven?

Just lucky, I guess.

Here, help yourself to a Todd McFarlane figurine.

Oh! Don't mind if I do!

Are you all right?

Yeah, just a little black ooze.

You've been using it, haven't you?

Haven't you?

Do you have any idea what forces you're tampering with?

Forces of Good?

Why do you think I stopped using the damn thing?

You'll soon find out for yourself

what it is to be both terrified and enthralled by it.

To despise and desire it.

You inside of it, and it inside of you.

I got to go.

Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, here I come, Mommy!

And now, our very own, Memphis Storm front

joins us with a look at the weekend weather. Memph?

Not all that is old was once young.

Not all that's forgotten is gone.

The nameless one, dreaming of fire,

but slumbers to awaken

some cursed-blood raw dawn.

Sounds like it's gonna be a hot one.

Stay kooky, Memphis.

Okay, clearly, I should not to be tampering with that Doppler.

Well, yeah.

Besides, I'm pretty sure I got that A on my work-study locked up already,

so, I am never using the Doppler again.

Right after one teensy little looksy, to make sure it's an A-plus.

Oh, God, my family!

No, no!

Do you mind?

Are you enjoying the show?

No! God!

No!

Listen to me, please, something terrible is coming!

Oh, more terrible than your family?

I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, okay?

But some kind of monster is coming and it's going to kill us all.

Please!

We have to get out of here and try to find some place safe.

He's got to have something that explains the Doppler,

that monster, all of it.

Pornography, pornography,

creepy ancient scroll, pornography. Wait a minute!

Wow, an interview with Adrien Brody!

I'll just save this for later.

Wait a minute!

A creepy ancient scroll!

My pornography! And scroll.

Mr. Storm front, please, no!

God, how I wish he'd never left me that damned orb.

What is the Doppler really?

It isn't a Doppler at all.

It's some kind of ancient alien instrument

that Dickie Dobbins found buried deep beneath the Mojave Desert.

It gave him the ability to see the future,

the power of absolute certainty.

Yeah, man's desire for certainty. Been kind of a theme lately.

But in the end, it killed him.

Are you sure he didn't just die of being, you know, super old?

He was 32!

But that's what the thing does to you. Decays you, twists your soul,

so much so, that some even come to want to summon...

The creature. What is it?

It's a being so terrifying, it's impossible to even describe!

Face of an eel, arms like giant squids,

classic dragon's body,

six wobbly baby giraffe legs,

standing an immeasurable 3,097 ft tall.

It is Bathasalom, the nameless one!

The nameless one's name is Bathasalom?

Please don't be a dick about this, okay?

Oh, my God, the Doppler and the monster.

- Bathasalom, the nameless. - Uh-huh. They are linked!

The Doppler has been sending out these vibrations to it,

waking it up.

I'm impressed. You're scroll reading at a 12th grade level.

So, the only way to make certain it stays buried,

is to destroy the Doppler.

Roger sure would have been handy to have around for all this cosmic crap.

He better be doing something really important.

Race and pace and chasten Make those doggies hasten.

Though your chaps are chafe And got to bring those heifers home.

Cow drive.

Cow drive.

Take 'em in, turn 'em out, round 'em up rub 'em down, take it off.

Make 'em... Go to town.

Cow drive.

Whip-Crack!

- Oh, crap. - Damn it!

All right. Just download an mp3 of a whip and let's go home.

Wait, no, I can do this.

It's defending itself, Steve, blasting your mind

with the most horrible things imaginable.

It's all over.

You don't know how right you are.

- No. - You had it wrong, Steve.

The orb wasn't waking the nameless one.

It was the only thing keeping it asleep.

I never was able to bring myself to destroy it.

But then it showed me.

It showed me that you would do it for me.

And now, thanks to you,

Bathasalom rises!

Hey, you've got to admit, that's sick as hell.

What have I done?

There's only one true certainty in this world, Steve,

that eventually, it must end.

Why Mr. Storm front? What's in all this for you?

Well, I assume I'll be rewarded with mighty cosmic power!

Natalie, what in the heck is all that racket out there?

Some kind of behemoth from beyond time and space, Dr. Buckle.

For the love of Pete!

Oh, thank God! I'm not too late!

No!

- Steve, get in! - You're alive!

Yeah. After you said all that crazy stuff,

we decided to pack up the car, just in case.

When we didn't find you at the TV station...

You came back here to look for me?

Of course we did.

We're your family, and that's the one thing you can always be certain of.

I actually voted to leave you behind.

Oh, God, it's horrible.

My whipping comeback went horrible.

Hang on, gang. The world may be ending, but the Smiths

will always live on to have further adventures.

- Or maybe not. - It's too late.

This really is the end of everything.

Does anybody else hear that hum?

Well, here goes nothing.

Looks like I'll be taking my talents

to the Buckle Group's Cash-only Walk-in Urology Center.

I mean. But you've got to do Channel 3.