All language subtitles for Thundercrack (1975).eng

The October storm,

caused by a double-barrel
low-pressure system

in eastern Nebraska,

is the most intense so far
of this winter season.

Travelers' warnings
for flash flooding, high winds,

and severe thunderstorms...

Motorists are advised
to take extreme caution,

as already the road conditions
have become treacherous,

especially in those areas
where the highways cross

or are near rivers
or other major bodies of water.

I repeat, the Weather Bureau
has issued travelers' warnings

for flash flooding, high winds,
and severe thunderstorms.

The motorist is advised
to take extreme caution

as road conditions
have already...

Shut the hell up.

Goddamn puppet.

You're nothing but a puppet
for the Weather Bureau.

And they pull the string that
makes your mouth go up and down.

I'll bet you don't even know
what the hell an isobar is.

And don't go telling me
it's some kind of a Popsicle.

'Cause it ain't!

I got schooling in me.

I'm no dummy.

Charlie saw to that.

Charlie didn't want no dummy
for a wife.

And I didn't want no Charlie
McCarthy for a husband either.

I wanted Charlie Hammond.

And I wanted to be
Mrs. Gert Hammond.

Wife of Charlie.

Charlie's woman.

Forever.

Not just till they came.

Stinking windshield wipers don't
make a damn of a difference.

I shouldn't be toting around
mammals on a night like this.

Why the hell didn't
that crummy circus give me

the amphibian cage?

Pipe down, Samson!

You might be king of the jungle
in Africa,

but in this circus,
you're nothing but a bozo.

Every time I see that trainer
putting the hula hoops on you

and I see those kids screaming

with the Cracker Jacks flying
out of their mouths

and the cotton candy
sticking to their chins,

it makes me sick!

Sick, Samson!

Yeah, sick.

I want to puke on them.

God knows it wouldn't make
any difference,

what with the mustard
and ice cream

dripping down
their fat little necks.

God, you can't even tell

between the freckles
and the mashed popcorn.

No, Medusa.

I wasn't talking about you.

Gorillas are different
from little children.

They have more hair.

Don't know what he's carrying,

but whatever they are,
they sure are hungry.

I don't have to worry
about hunger.

Of the stomach.

Just the other hunger.

The one more ravishing
that I worry about.

But why worry?

Wasn't there something I read
or heard in church,

something about birds.

Birds don't worry about eating,

and yet God provides
plenty of food.

But I -- I'm not satisfied
with just worms!

I need something
more substantial.

Howdy, stranger.

No need to ask
if you need a lift.

We all need one
in this kind of weather.

The real question
The $64,000 question is

how high do you want to get?

What are you -- a junkie?

Only junk I carry
is on my wrist.

And what do you have
in those two crates?

Oh, it's just something
I picked up

when I was hitchhiking
from Tucson.

Well, you take your
two crates and you take yourself

and you get yourself right
into this car

before you drown in that rain.

Yes, ma'am. Right away.

Sash,
pick up that lily-white butt

and go help with Mr. Stranger
with his things.

And just give him a hand,
you hear?

I was ordered to lend you a hand
and nothing more.

Those were the orders
from our general over there

with her junk-jewelry medals.

Why do you listen to her?

Why did you bring what I was
told --the lily-white butt

out in this rain?

My butt's white from being so
numb after two days of driving.

But it used to be red
when we used to live in Tucson.

If only
you could have seen it then.

Gee, ma'am, I ain't even seen
the white one yet.

So quit jumping the gun.

Oh, you'll see it all right.

Just a matter of time.

Sash!

And Ruta's whim.

Sash, honey, your skirt's soaked
through to the skin.

So please take it off
before sitting next to me.

Now, come on in, you two,

and Mister
What's your name again?

Toydy. Toydy McNeil.

"Toydy"? Is that Brooklyn?

No. Why?

Well, in Brooklyn,

they say things like doydy
and boydy and toydy.

I was educated in Brooklyn.

Brooklyn Community College.

It was quite a community
of fatsos.

They really believed
in letting it all hang out.

Hanging out
of their shirt sleeves

and the collars of their suits

and their two-piece
bathing suits.

You know, people see whales
on the beach after a storm,

and they think that's something.

That's only because they've
never been to Brighton Beach.

Well, I'm for letting it all
hang out.

That's been my motto
since I was 17.

I'm sure
what you have to hang out

is well worth exposing
to the light of day.

Or, for that matter,
a 6-watt overhead lamp.

Care to surface
your breathing snorkel?

Ruta, cut it out.

Turn off that light.

I've had enough of this filth.

Who was she telling you about
back there?

Oh, nothing much.
Something about Tucson.

About how she used to have
a red butt?

- Shut up, Ruta.
- That's it.

She said she had a red butt
when she was in Arizona.

Ruta!

She didn't get it
from lying in too much sun.

I can tell you that.

You want to know how she got it?

Shut up, Ruta. I'm warning you.

You want to know, stranger?

Yeah, well, I don't know. Sure.

Roo, you keep your mouth shut!

He wants to know, honey.

Shut up!

I'm not going to tell you
till you let it all hang out.

Come on, now. Fair's fair.

I let you see
her lily-white butt, didn't I?

Ooh, baby doll.

For that, I'd give you

the formula to the atomic bomb
if I knew it.

Didn't you learn that stuff
in Brooklyn Community College?

They taught us about
atomic fission and fusion.

And I was all hot for fusion,
baby.

Red hot
like your friend's butt was?

You didn't tell him, Roo,
did you?

I have to tell him now, Sash.

I can't leave him hanging
in the air

when he's giving me what I want
right in the palm of my hand.

You'll never live to tell him!

Never!

Hey, I saw something.

An explosion or something.

- What?
- I don't know.

It was like a big ball of fire,
like something exploded.

A gas tank or something.

You're very observant.

So are you.

I've been noticing

you scrutinizing me
for a long time now.

What was it
you were scrutinizing?

My nose?

Was there a piece of snot
hanging from my nose?

No.

Well, I caught a cold, you know,

waiting out there in the rain
until you picked me up.

I'm mighty grateful to you,

what, with all your sweet music

and your fancy-smelling
pipe tobacco.

What's the matter?
You don't like Tchaikovsky?

I'm not complaining, Chandler.

In fact, I said
I'm mighty grateful.

- It's just that...
- What, Bond?

Well, it's just...

My gazes? My admiring glances?

At your rather extravagant torso

put you ill at ease?

Well, no.

It's just that that's all
you're doing is just looking.

You mean you were expecting me
to do something else?

Me? Chandler Wilson?

Heir to the Wilson fortune?

And widower
of Sarah Lou Phillips

from the House of Phillips
Unlimited?

You mean the House of Phillips,

that big girdle manufacturing
plant down in Waco?

Yes. That's exactly what I mean.

That big girdle factory
in central Texas

where everything grows big,

especially a middle-age gut.

I'm scared of that.

Scared of what?

Middle-age gut.

Well, you've got nothing
to fret about, Bond.

From the looks of things,

your gut looks like
it's made out of coiled steel.

You really think so, Chandler?

Pull your shirt down!

What's wrong?

What did I do wrong, Chandler?

That's the second time you've
flown off the handle tonight.

The first time is when
I wanted to show you

that tattoo on my thigh.

I told you at the time that
I had no interest whatsoever

in looking at a tattoo
of a dodo bird.

But they're extinct.

You can't see them anymore.

I'm well aware of that, Bond,

but I think that having one
tattooed on your hairy thigh

is in extreme poor taste,

especially considering that the
species has vanished forever.

My thigh isn't hairy.

Let's just skip the subject,
shall we?

- Chandler?
- Yeah?

Didn't your wife pass away
recently?

I seem to remember reading
something about it somewhere.

My wife, Sarah Lou Phillips,
daughter of Leland,

the creator of the House
of Phillips Unlimited,

died last year.

Died a horrible death.

I'm terribly sorry.

For her or for me?

For the both of you.

Well, reserve your bleeding
heart strictly for her.

Our marriage was going up
in smoke anyway.

It's just that she turned
the expression into a reality.

Wasn't there a fire?

Wasn't your wife killed
in a fire?

You're very observant Bond.

Is that where you got
your good-looking body?

From chasing fire engines
down the street?

I work hard to get this body
looking the way it does.

Well, I bet you have.

And is the investment
paying off?

Not tonight it isn't.

Bond, I, uh...

I find you very attractive.

So attractive that I want to
throw you out of this car.

Well, I don't get it.

If you find me so attractive,

why the hell would you
want to throw me out of the car?

I mean, I'm the one

that ought to be getting
out of this car voluntarily,

knowing what's on your mind.

I can't help what's on my mind,
Bond.

It's been a year since I've had

any worthwhile
sexual encounters.

Is that when your wife died?

Oh, the hell with her!

When I mentioned
Sarah Lou Phillips,

heiress to
the House of Phillips Unlimited,

I'm not talking
about worthwhile sex.

It wasn't sex that we shared
in the dark

on that Castro Convertible sofa
her mother bought us.

No.

No, that was
infantile perversion!

I want you
to tell me about it, Chandler.

Why?

Why would a clean,
good-looking kid like you

want to delve
into the filth of the rich?

'Cause it's a dark, stormy night

and there ain't nothing
but this cigarette

and the light on the radio dial

and the rain
and your face in that light.

You got a nice face, Chandler.

You got a real nice face.

Give me a puff
of that cigarette, kid.

First it's a pipe.
Now it's a cigarette.

What's it going to be next,
Chandler?

White Owl cigar maybe?

You've got an uncanny
way of getting under my skin.

Wouldn't it be much nicer

if I got into it
rather than under it?

Something the matter, Officer?
Something wrong?

Officer? Oh, no.
I'm nothing like that.

I'm just a housewife.
That's all I am.

See my badge.

That was given to me
by my husband.

He's the country rock singer
Simon Cassidy.

Perhaps you've heard of him.

I've got his pictures
right here,

and they're all personally
autographed by Simon.

Would you like one?

I'm his secretary,

and Simon personally autographs
every 8x10 glossy

for his friends.

You, young fella.

You look like
a country rock fan.

- Are you not?
- Sort of.

My, my, my.
Aren't you a wet noodle?

He's no wet noodle, lady.
I can testify to that.

Well, I'm becoming one

just standing out here
in all this rain.

Listen, I just stopped
to converse

with my fellow travelers

about the explosion I just saw
down the road a bit.

I told you, Chandler.

I told you
I saw something blow up.

Maybe a bolt of lightning hit
a tree or something like that.

I didn't see
no lightning, mister.

There was a big yellow flash and
then an orange sheet of fire.

Chandler,
maybe somebody got hurt.

Listen, kid.

I vowed before embarking
on this trip

that once I started,
I was never looking back.

Now, I'm going to Waco, Texas,

to that great giant
girdle factory

that stands
like a mammoth mausoleum

to the memory of my dead wife,
Sarah Lou Phillips.

You mean Sarah Lou Phillips

of the House of Phillips
Unlimited?

Yeah.
That's what he's talking about.

And I don't intend
to water down my mission,

the only mission
I've got in life,

just because some ball of fire
lights up the night sky

in this godforsaken
nowhere land.

No, the ball of fire
I've got planned

is going to rival
the sun itself.

You mark my words, Bond.

It's gonna turn night into day!

You scare me, mister.

You're talking
like some sort of beatnik.

And supposing I am,

what have you got
against beatniks?

Well, for one thing,
their bongo drums.

I can't stand
all that stupid pounding.

Listen, I don't know how we got
on this hypotrical subject.

"Hypothetical."

Well, that's what I said.

Now, we ought to go back.

There might be people dying
back there.

There are people up ahead
who are dying, too.

Look, Chandler.

I gave you that cigarette,
and you put it in your mouth.

How about that White Owl Cigar?

I saw some lights up ahead.

There's probably a farmhouse
up there.

So I'll go and check and see
if they have a telephone

just in case
you find someone injured.

All right, lady.

We'll meet you there.

God bless you and keep you,

for the devil walks about
on nights such as this.

Who is it?

Who's that knocking at my door?

Is that you, Mr. Maple Tree?

Is the wind making you bang
your branches against my door?

Hello in there. Anybody home?

Oh, my God.

That was a human voice.

That was a woman's voice calling
from behind that door!

Who is it that speaks to me
with the voice of a woman'?!

My name is Mrs. Cassidy.

Sorry to bother you,
but I need your help.

Well, just a minute,
Mrs. Cassidy!

Mrs. Gert Hammond will be
with you in a minute!

Please be patient.

Why couldn't she have telephoned
before coming over?

It isn't fair
after all these years

that someone should knock
on my door

and not even warn me
of their visit.

Thirty minutes' warning.

That's all I ask.

One half-hour to bathe
and scent my body

in preparation
for the ensuing visitation.

Just a moment, Mrs. Cassidy!

Mrs. Gert Hammond will be
with you in a moment.

Please forgive the delay.

My hair.

She mustn't see my hair
like this.

Oh, my God.

I'm seeing double.

I'm so drunk,

I can't possibly hold
an audience with Mrs. Cassidy.

Oh, what'll she think of me?

She'll pity me.

I'll be a disgrace to the memory
of my dead husband.

Oh.

Oh.

I got to get this alcohol
out of my system.

Oh, why did you have to come
without calling, Mrs. Cassidy?

Please don't go away!
I'm coming!

Please, I'm coming right now!

My goodness!

Noah himself never had it
so bad.

If it keeps up like this,

we're gonna have to build ourselves a...

Have you been sick or something,
ma'am?

My name is Mrs. Gert Hammond.

Welcome to Prairie Blossom,

the name my husband and I chose

for the estate
you are now standing on.

What happened to your head?

Please, let me finish.

Our home, built upon
a stretch of prairie

between the Chickasaw
and Thunderbird Rivers,

was built by hand
with loving care

by my husband, Charlie,

who now lies buried in the wine
cellar beneath our very feet.

The stones that comprise
the outer wall

of this stately mansion

were shipped
by horse and cart...

Uh...

The wonderful granite stones

from the quarry
in the state of Connecticut

were shipped
by horse and cart in, uh...

By four white horses
pulling a huge cart

made from the hardwood oak
of Kensington County.

The date of departure

listed at the county courthouse

is April 13, 1918.

Friday.

Friday the 13th.

The same date as the death
of my husband,

when that hideous nightmare
swept down from the Rockies.

Oh, my dear wretched woman!

How could God in his mercy leave
you alone in this wilderness?

I'm gonna cleanse you
with the waters

that are in
such profusion tonight.

How many days and nights
has your womanly body

been deprived of a washcloth?

What do the widows of the world
need with a washcloth?

Well, soap, for one thing.

And a soothing body oil
for special occasions.

Who are you?!

Coming into my house with your
talk of soap and bath oils?

If you're trying to sell
something, get out!

I have no money!

Only memories.

I'm not selling anything.

I'm giving away for free

the charity that was instilled
in me in my girlhood

as a First Baptist
in the First Church of Christ.

The same church that my husband
and I were married in.

Do you know who my husband is?

No.

Simon Cassidy.

Who's he?

Do you mean to tell me

you don't know who Simon Cassidy
is, a country rock singer?

You, one of the lonely women

who's allowed my husband to come
into your room via the radio

to dispel the gloom
of your empty rooms?

Don't you get jealous?

My husband and I are
as true to each other as we were

three years ago when we were
married in Kentucky.

The wedding was perfect.

There was something new
my snow-white virginity.

Something old.

Simon's mother who came
in the most god-awful satin rag.

She looked like
a bag of potatoes

that was oozing margarine.

Then there was
something borrowed

Simon's credit card.

And something blue

the bluegrass of Kentucky
moving up and down the hills

like the Pacific Ocean.

One of these days, I'm gonna see
the Pacific Ocean for real

when Simon makes it
to Hollywood.

Does Hollywood
want your husband?

Why, hell, yes.

Of course
Hollywood wants my husband.

But the parts have just not been

up to Simon's
true creative capacity.

Don't stop.

Keep talking.

Well, of course,
you've heard of Hal B. Wallis,

the big movie producer who
produces all of Elvis' movies?

Yes.

Oh, yes.

Mr. Hal B. Wallis sent
my husband's agent a script

for a small singing part in
the film "Bazookas For Peace."

Oh.

I'd give my piece for a bazooka
any time.

After a little conference
with my husband and his agent,

in which I served some homemade
brownies and Turkish coffee,

we all decided that
the part would be detrimental

to Simon's career,

since it was
a gruesome sequence.

Simon was to be a private
in the infantry

who sings a song to his troops
about life in beautiful Ohio.

Well, that part's all right.

Would you

Would you mind washing me
a little lower, please?

Oh, there. That's fine.

Anyhow, he was to be
singing about beautiful Ohio

when suddenly, a bazooka shell
hits my husband, hits Simon,

who plays a private,

and hits him, of all places,
in his privates.

He was talking about shooting it
in slow motion,

and I tell you, it made me sick
just thinking about it.

That's just the way I felt.

Oh, it's painful.

Imagine my husband,
in his motion-picture debut,

being violently emasculated
in wide-screen color

in front of millions
of screaming females.

That's right, honey.

Screaming just like that.

Why, that would be absolutely
the end of his career

as an all-singin',
all-actin', all-lovin' he-man.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Willene is my name.

And you are, uh, Gert?

Yes.

I'm Gert.

But I'm a Gert reborn.

Every day is a rebirth.

Every day is Easter.

Just remember to color your eggs
happy colors,

like yellow and baby blue.

By the way, honey,
where is your telephone?

It's in the other room.

Thank you.

There's no sound on this thing.

The lines must be down.

The storm has no mercy
for the telephone company.

Anyway, it's dangerous
to talk on the phone

when there's lightning
in the sky.

Oh, you're very good luck
for my, Willene!

Those doors have not felt
human knuckles for a long time.

I think I know who it is.

It's probably the two men I left
in the road awhile ago.

Gracious!

What sort of mischief
has the storm been up to?

Then there was a crash!

You bet there was.

A real bad one, too.

Here we go.

Yeah, they were lucky

they managed to crawl away
from the wreck

before the gas tank exploded.

Why is that woman
partially disrobed?

Was it the impact of the crash
that did that?

My skirt was wet.

That witch over there didn't
want me to stain the upholstery.

I should have had you leave
the dress on.

A wet stain is better
than a smelly brown one.

Now, cut it out, you two.

There's no more upholstery,
period.

Yeah, that car ain't nothing
but a smoldering wreck.

Instead of fighting,

you three ought to get down
on your knees

and thank the God Almighty.

Listen, sister.

I get down on my knees
for only one thing,

and it's the men who thank
the Almighty I'm doing it.

Whoo!

She's a sassy one, ain't she?

Your zipper's open, young man.

Sorry.

Fresh mouth over there
wasn't satisfied

with handling her stick shift.

It wasn't my fault
the goddamn crash happened.

Angel puss over there
was to blame.

And for good reason,
to shut you up!

Well, you shut me up this time,
baby,

but maybe next time
you won't be so lucky.

Hush, you two.
You'll wake the dead.

You leave my husband
out of this.

My husband was a decent man.

Who is this woman?

She's, um, Mrs... uh...

My name is Mrs. Gert Hammond.

Welcome to Prairie Blossom,

the name my husband and I chose

for the estate
you are now standing on.

Lady...

Why don't you just cut the crap
and get me something to drink?

Please forgive my manners.

It's been so long
since I've entertained.

Well, you're doing pretty good
in that shorty kimono, miss.

It's Mrs.

Mrs. Hammond is a widow.

Her husband is buried
in the wine cellar.

Oh, really?

Well, then why don't you just
forget about those drinks.

Afraid of the dead, Roo?

No, I just don't like things

that lie on their backs all
the time without turning over.

I couldn't agree with you more.

Not me.
I always sleep on my back.

And why is that?

'Cause in the back,
everything lies down flat.

Nothing pokes up.

There's nothing flat
about your back.

In fact,
it's damn nice and round.

If you're so
accustomed to eyeing buttocks,

what's keeping you
from straining your peepers

on this bottomless broad
over here?

I'm not a broad!

I resent that male chauvinist
slur to my femininity.

You shut up!
Shut your fat mouth,

and quit talking like the ghost
of my dead wife!

Chandler, your wife's dead!
She's dead!

Yeah, but not forgotten.

No.

Women like her
that won't let me forget.

You want to know how she died,
the stupid fool?!

Let go of my throat!

Stop that childish nonsense
this instant!

She died at a garden party
one afternoon.

She took her girdle off,

and she held a match to it
as a sign of her liberation.

Chandler, let go of her throat!

Yeah, but what she didn't know
is that the girdle was flammable

and blow up in her goddamn face!

Stop it!

- I'm gonna be sick!
- Oh, not again.

It blew up right in her face,

and her head was covered
with flaming liquid rubber.

God have mercy.

Cheesy cow,
you almost strangled me.

Everyone at the garden party
started screaming.

Then they threw their drinks
on her to douse out the flames.

Only, they forgot it was alcohol
they were drinking.

Oh, my dear God.

The horror of the moment
was so great,

to all extents and purposes,

we were just staring

at this flaming,
screaming Scarecrow

running across the green lawn
in a panic.

And we all started laughing.

I laughed so hard that tears
were running down my cheeks.

We all roared hysterically until
there was this hideous hiss.

And then a white column of steam
that boiled skyward

from the swimming pool
where she fell in.

Then there was silence.

Dead silence.

I'm sorry.

I didn't know that your wife
was Sarah Lou Phillips,

the daughter of Leland Phillips,

creator of House of Phillips
Unlimited.

In Waco, Texas.

Well, I didn't realize that
I'd married into such notoriety.

To us,
the women of North America,

your wife was a martyred saint.

She was a stupid idiot,
a sick nitwit.

You wanted to hear about our
love life, didn't you, Bond?

Well, I'm gonna tell you
all the filthy details.

I'm gonna tell you right here
and right now.

Shut up, Chandler. This isn't
the time or the place.

No. No, it wouldn't be for you!

You'd rather I told you
at midnight

behind the trash cans
at a Greyhound bus depot.

You cheap, rotten hustler.

You brute!

I'm sorry, Chandler,

but you tried to cheapen me
in front of all these people

by suggesting that I'd sell
my body to you for money!

And that's an outright lie!

When I give my body,
it's like a gift from God

without any monteary reward.

"Monetary."

That's what I said.

It's like a gift from God

without any kind
of monetary reward.

Amen.

Well, tell me, O divined one,

can I light a candle
at your altar sometime

and pray that you will bestow
your blessings on me some night?

Who are you kidding?

Everyone is welcome
at Prairie Blossom.

Come, take off your wet clothes

and get into something
dry and warm.

You are welcome to don
the apparel hanging before you.

To your right,
you'll find the clothing

that adorned me in my youth.

To your left, there hang the
garments of my deceased husband.

They hang there in the exact
condition in which he left them.

For your convenience
and privacy while changing,

may I suggest that you use the
far bedroom down that hallway?

And now that you have
your instructions,

may I wish you all
a hearty welcome

for the duration of your stay.

Look, lady.
You're very nice and all that.

But, hell, I don't want to stick
around here.

I don't think
we have much choice.

You notice the level of
the river when we crossed it?

How could we remember
with the accident and all?

Believe me. We were lucky to
make it with the water so high.

Yeah, that's right.

Why, it was all foggy when
I looked out the car window

and seen that swirling water.

I sobered up really quick.

That bridge is gone by now.

And likewise, the bridge
that crosses the Chickasaw.

Uh-huh.

No, my friends.

You must not, you cannot go
into that purgatory

out those front doors.

Please avail yourself
of my hospitality

until the good Lord sees fit
to turn off his faucet.

I will leave you for a while

to prepare some goodies
from the kitchen.

Remember, please, to use that
far bedroom down the hallway.

And please be patient
with one another.

The night is always long
on the prairie.

Thank you, Mrs. Hammond.

On behalf of us all,

may I wish you God's blessings
in your charitable work.

She is a wonderful woman
of vigorous pioneer stock.

She's got some pair of boobs.
I'll say that much!

I think you've said
just about enough.

I bet her butt's seen
a lot of plowing.

Never mind about her,

you and I've got some unfinished
business to take care of later.

Don't hold your breath.

I'd hate to see that nice face
turn blue.

You're gonna get it.

One of these days,
you're gonna get it so big,

it's gonna turn you
black and blue for a week.

I give it, Mack.

I don't take it.

Oh, boy.

Ah.

Ohh.

Oh.

Oh, darn you.

Darn you.

Come on! Hurry up!

What are you doing,
playing with yourself'?!

I think the person
that decorated this room

had you in mind.

Hmm.

Ugh.

Ooh.

I hear that noise in there, Roo.

Don't be shaving your legs
with an electric razor

when I'm freezing out here
in these wet clothes.

Here, zip me up, will you?

Have fun, baby.

Oh.

Turn around.

Ohh, come on.

Turn around.

Ohh.

Oh, my God.

Oh, that's a big one.

Oh, boy.

Ohh.

I heard this was the melon
season, and now I believe it.

Melons have seeds and I don't.

Not even after that encounter

with Johnny Appleseed
over there?

Gyrate, buster.

Wow!
Would you get a load of this?

Who would have thought that old
bugger was into graphic art?

Yeah, get a load of this stuff.

It's really graphic.

Check this dude out.

Get in there, god damn it!

Oh! Oh!

So, that's your game,
you batty bozo!

You should be ashamed
of yourself,

telling everybody you're
in the kitchen making goodies.

And you ain't doing
nothing of the kind.

In fact, you've got the gall

to hide behind someone
who never lied in his life!

Toydy, it's Mrs. Cassidy.

Are you finished yet?

Yeah, sure. Come on in.

Don't you ever do that to me
again!

I ain't done nothing to you yet,
lady.

You have no sense
of common decency!

Here's a toothpick for you!

And if it's decency you want,
don't come in this room.

That filthy man.

I'm afraid you've opened
your doors as well as your heart

to the scum of this planet.

Here on spaceship Earth,
there is no scum.

There are just
malfunctioning circuits.

Well, someone's sure
malfunctioning in your bedroom.

That isn't my bedroom.

Well, whose is it,
then, your husband's?

It was our son's bedroom.

Was?

You mean he's gone, moved away?

No.

Well, where is he, then?

My son -- Our son

no longer exists.

Oh, Mrs. Hammond.

I'm really sorry.

I didn't realize that tragedy
had struck you twice.

Is he dead, then?

No.

He does not exist.

Well, I'm afraid I
don't understand what you mean,

but I certainly
wouldn't be callous enough

to dwell on the subject.

May I have something to eat?

By all means.

Help yourself.

This looks refreshing.

Oh, it's a cucumber.

Are you in the habit of peeling
your cucumbers in advance?

Yes, it ages the flavor.

It certainly does.

Boy, does this taste odd.

Eat up.

You'll soon acquire a taste
for it.

I'd like for you to.

It would make for a much closer
friendship between us.

I'm afraid I can't finish it.

Would you like to share it?

No, I've already had it.
Thank you.

Do you mind if I throw it away?

Not at all, my dear.

Most things of that nature
are disposable.

Just throw it in that bag
under the sink.

Why, Mrs. Hammond.

You've got a whole pile of them
in here.

Call me Gert, Willene.

I feel that you've gotten to
know me more intimately.

Yes.

Those cucumbers
did not age properly enough

to suit my hungry lips.

So I had to get rid of them.

Oh.

The smell is really terrible.

I'll take out the trash

if you pick up
that thing in the hallway.

What thing in the hallway?

Well,
it looks like a banana slug,

but don't let that fool ya.

Banana slugs wiggle,

and the only thing wiggling at
the end of that thing was Toydy.

He's quite a man, isn't he?

Well, part of him is a man.

The other part,
I'm not too sure about.

The coin of sexuality
always has two faces.

That's what my son
always used to say.

Are those your son's toys
in the bedroom?

My son was rather grown up
for a boy of 16.

That's when he started to order
those divertissements

through the mail.

They always came
in a plain brown wrapper.

And every morning,

I'd bring them in along
with his breakfast tray.

He was strictly forbidden
to open them

until he had eaten
all of his breakfast.

There was usually prune juice.

Why prune juice?

Gerald always wanted his system
cleaned out regularly.

Well, I can see why,
after that thing in the hallway.

Who'd want to keep washing
their toys all the time?

And after the prune juice,

there'd be two eggs sunny side
up and four sausage links.

And after the sausage,

there'd be three pieces
of buttered toast,

along with a steaming hot
cup of coffee.

I bet he'd take plenty of cream
in his coffee.

My son loved cream.

He licked it up like a cat.

But a cat has nine lives,

and your son unfortunately had
only one.

So, now he joins your husband
in death.

My husband is dead.

My son is no more.

He no longer exists.

Come, Willene.

Shall we prepare a little dinner
for our guests?

Damn it, I need a drink!

The wine is in the cellar!

Please help yourselves

to whatever vintage
the occasion calls for.

Go ahead, Roo.
Go get us some wine.

I ain't going down there
with no dead man lying around.

I'll go get the wine
if Bond comes with me.

I don't like cellars, Chandler.
They smell funny.

Do they smell fishy?
Is that what it is?

Well, hell, kid, with Chandler,

it's not gonna smell fishy,
just strong and musky.

Mrs. Hammond, is there a light
down in the basement?

No, but there's a large
flashlight over by the window.

Well, that's real good.

In case you can't get it up,
Chandler,

you got something
to fall back on.

What's going on?

Stop it!

Stop it, you two!

You're nothing
but a troublemaker.

I don't make trouble.
I just make whoopee.

You make me sick!

You make me sick!
That's what you make me!

When I put the make on you,
Chandler,

you may choke and gag a little,

but you're not gonna feel sick.

Who do you think
you're talking to,

one of those life-size dolls
in the bedroom?

No. Their mouths are operated
on air power.

His operates on lust.

That's what you can expect
from my mouth, Toydy.

Save that spit
for Bond's flashlight.

By the look of the bulge in
his pants, you're gonna need it.

My God!

Back there in the kitchen,

it sounded like a tornado

had decided to join
our little party.

Sorry about the lamp.

Look, I'll give you 6 bucks
for it.

Will that be enough?

I don't want your money.

You people have lit up my life
more brightly

than that lamp
could ever have done.

And if you'll just wait
15 minutes,

Willene and I will prepare you

a tangible example
of my gratefulness.

Come, Willene.

The pots and pans are waiting.

I hope
she wasn't referring to us.

Here.

Give me that flashlight.

You've got your hands full.

Full of the wrong stuff.

What do you mean?

I'd rather have them wrapped
around you.

What brought that on?

The way you handled yourself
in that room back there.

How do you know what I was doing
in the bedroom?

I don't mean the bedroom.

I mean the way you acted
in the living room.

Oh, that.

Well, he had it coming.

I don't mean
just the rough stuff.

I mean the thoughtfulness
and the tenderness

that you exhibited
to Mrs. Hammond.

What, you mean the $6?

Well, I was willing
to give it to her,

but she just wouldn't take it.

You won't find
that problem with me.

Huh.

What do you want, $6?

$6, plus interest.

And what's the interest?

To put it bluntly,
my interest in your body.

Not my thoughtfulness
and tenderness,

just my body?

I'm playing by the rules
of your own game, Chandler.

I want you to get excited
about me

the same way that you would
towards your friend Bond.

He's not my friend.

I picked him up when it was dark
and he was alone.

Like we are here?

We're not alone here.

You're forgetting
about Mrs. Hammond's husband.

He doesn't count.

He's lifeless and limp.

Well, I'm afraid
there's something else

that you'll find
in the same condition.

So, don't be getting
your hopes up too high.

I don't want to get
my hopes up high.

It's your 'something else'
I'm trying to raise.

Well, knowing the way that I am,
good luck.

Luck is supposed to be a lady,

so that cuts the odds down
just a bit.

Just a very little bit,
I'm afraid.

I forgot to ask whether
she was serving meat or fish.

This would be great with meat.

Well, save it for down here
because I want meat.

What are you wearing?

Aren't those Bond's clothes?

Yes, they are.

What's that thing pressed
into your pants?

Something I picked up
in the bedroom.

Look at me, Chandler,
just for tonight.

In dim lighting, I'm Bond.

And this cellar
is the bus depot.

Come on. You can have me for $6.

You were right.

About what?

Luck is a lady.

Not tonight, she isn't.

Where do you want me, Mack?

Just get down on the table
and pull your trousers down.

Make that louder!

That's my husbands new song
on the radio.

I I can tell you,
'cause I heard it today J'

He just cut that record.

Well, good for him.

I'm more interested in somebody
who can cut the mustard.

You looking for a frankfurter
to go along with that mustard?

Sure am, but I've come equipped
with my own

if it turns out
you aren't kosher.

My frankfurter don't care

whether your buns
are large or small.

It ain't fussy.

J' Honest to God J'

J' That's the lyrics
to "A Lovebird's Song" J'

Hey, what's your name?

It's Willene.
Mrs. Willene Cassidy.

And that's my husband Simon's
record on the radio.

You got any idea what's inside
this locked door?

I know it's gonna be a hit.

I just know it.

How many hours you been waiting
at this depot?

Three.

What bus am I taking?

10:25 to Houston.

Is it the Silver Eagle Service?

Yeah. You even get a hostess
on board.

With a big lavatory
and a mirror?

A real big mirror.

You know what time it is now?

No! No!

It's 10:25!

It's coming in fast.

No!

Here it comes!

Oh, God! No!

So soon!

My watch says it's 10:24.

It's ahead of schedule,
and it's coming in fast.

Here it comes!

Has anybody ever told you

you have a nice body
for a woman so mature?

Why, yes, young man.

My husband, Charlie, used to
compliment me on my torso.

He said it reminded him
of a classical Greek sculpture.

You do remind me of something
Greek, but it ain't sculpture.

Sculpture's too cold.

You remind me more
of a nice juicy piece

of shish kebab meat.

Flattery will get you nowhere.

Would you like me to turn you

into a piece
of shish kebab meat?

And how are you
going to do that?

It's real simple.

There's the oven,
and here is the meat.

Now all we need is a long,
hard rod to run you through.

What about the vegetables?

Oh.

Your head.

Your head's a cabbage.

What about the potatoes?

Don't forget the potatoes.

Ahh, here they are.
Two lumpy 10-pound bags.

You're very cruel.

I should pull away.

But I can't.

Why not?

Because I would fall
into the oven

like the witch
in "Hansel and Gretel."

That would leave you alone
in this gingerbread house

to eat all the cookies
and peppermint sticks.

And what's wrong with that?

You would get sick.

And no one would be around
to give you an enema.

You like giving enemas?

My son Gerald liked them.

I bet it was a nice,
fire-engine-red enema bag.

I didn't use an enema bag.

My son Gerald always requested

that I hook up a heavy garden
hose to the kitchen faucet.

He was used to bigger things,
wasn't he?

My son was big for his age.

He was to be doomed
with bigness.

Are you ready for the rod,
Miss Shish Kebab?

Oh, yes.

Hurry, please.

It's getting so hot
by this oven.

Hand me that tin of
grease on the stove over there.

What is it?

It's bacon fat.

I bet when you fart,
it's gonna sound like a pig.

Oink! Oink!

Have you no respect for me?

No. None at all.

That would ruin the whole thing.

What is it that you
and your generation are seeking?

I don't know
about my generation,

but I would like to know

what you have
behind that locked door.

There's too much talk
in this kitchen

and not enough action.

Start cooking me now, honey,
before I go rotten.

Sorry. No deal, baby.

Not until you give me
those keys.

You are a slimy,
slippery reptile!

Don't you be calling me
slimy and slippery

with all that bacon fat oozing
down your thighs.

You have degraded
my sacredness as a woman.

You defiled with ugly fat

the Grecian classicism
of my body!

Your body was nothing
but ugly fat to begin with.

A little extra never hurt none.

If thy eyes offend thee,

pluck them out.

If thy hand offends thee,

cut it off.

May God give me strength
with His terrible swift sword!

That's it, sweetheart.

Just a little longer,

and we'll have mustard and
ketchup and mayonnaise galore.

Hey!

What the hell are you doing?

That gave you a lift, didn't it?

Look, lady.

I give it. I don't take it.

Give and take is a fact of life,
like in and out, lover boy.

Well, you may like it in,

but I want out when it comes
to this kind of hanky-panky

What the hell
is she cooking in there?

A pot of Mexican jumping beans?

I don't know.
We'd better go and see.

Hell, yeah.

I had my protein.

Now I want me some starch.

Aah! Aah!

Toydy,
what the hell are you up to?!

I was rubbing up the pubic hair
with bacon fat.

Then she went crazy!

Aah!

If I could get control
of this meat Cleaver,

that's all you'd end up with
down there is pubic hair!

This is crazy! Stop it!

Did you like that?

Yes.

Then what's that tear doing
on your cheek?

It's tickling me,
but I don't want to laugh

because it's not
a laughing matter.

What isn't?

The whole Charade
in this house of illusions.

You wanted to play
this game, Sash.

It wasn't my idea.

I know.

To me, it's like going into
those fun houses

to look at ourselves

through those distorted mirrors

and everything
is so ugly and grotesque.

But no one really minds

because it's a fun house
and you're supposed to have fun.

Everything's distorted in here.

But I don't care.

Just so long as I can clearly
see the road to my mission.

And what road is that, Chandler?

Highway 135 to Waco, Texas.

The road to that giant
girdle factory

with the neon lettering
branding the Texas sky.

Branding it
with fiery red letters

that spell
"House of Phillips Unlimited."

Why would you want to go
back to that place

after the terrible tragedy
that happened to your wife,

Sarah Lou Phillips?

Because I want to forget
Sarah Lou Phillips

and her father, Leland Phillips,

creator of
the House of Phillips Unlimited.

But how can I,

when they're still manufacturing
those girdles

by the tens of thousands?

But hasn't the government
put a stop

to the production
of those flammable things?

Well, there's a movement in the
courts now to halt production

until the company chemists
take out the volatile element.

But until that time,

those giant wooden looms

are still churning out
those stretchable death traps.

Has Leland Phillips no heart?

What of all the women
who don't realize

that they're purchasing
a potentially deadly weapon?

Leland Phillips is said to have
a heart of gold, and it's true.

But they fail to mention that
he's also got lungs of silver,

a stomach of copper,

and kidneys made
out of tungsten.

There's not
an authentic human organ

in his entire decrepit body.

The man is a maniac living off
the energy of the U.S. treasury,

created by corporate capitalism.

Chandler,
he sounds like a menace

to the Sisterhood of women.

Oh, he's more than that.

He's a fiend that robbed me
of my manhood.

Why do you think I deviate
towards men?

Some experts say that
it's an imbalance in hormones.

No.

It's because practically
every woman I undress

is wearing
a House of Phillips girdle.

Oh, God, no!

Yes.

They just stand there
by the edge of the bed,

waiting for me to pull
the rest of their clothes off.

And then they ask me
what the hell am I staring at,

as if I've never seen a girdle
before.

Oh, Chandler.

Do you know how it feels

to relive the most
hideous moment of your life

again and again?

And then those half-naked women
wonder why my face turns wet

and why my eyes pop
out of my head

instead of something else
popping out of my shorts.

But it doesn't pop out.

Not anymore.

Can you blame me
for turning my back on women

and giving what I have up front
to men?

No, darling, no,

but what can free you
of this crippling disorder?

The destruction of
the House of Phillips Unlimited.

All it would take is a Coca-Cola
bottle filled with gasoline.

That's Dr. Pepper country
down there.

Well, then,

a Dr. Pepper bottle filled
with gasoline.

And a fuse made
from the fragment

of a competitor's product.

You mean a chunk
of another girdle

of a different brand name?

That's right.

It'll make it all the more
ritualistic and prophetic.

Chandler, let me go down
Highway 135 with you.

To Waco, Texas.

To the House of Phillips
Unlimited

with its red neon sign
branding the Texas sky

with the mark of death.

Do you want to help me shatter
that sign

until it reads
"The House of Phillips Limited"?

And then just "The House," until
finally there's no sign at all,

just a massive flaming debris?

Your mission in life
is my mission.

I love you.

Be careful with that!

It cost me an arm and a leg
to upholster that chair!

If an elephant walks in here,

it's gonna be you
that's going to be upholstered

all over this house.

What is that thing in the jug
down there?!

It's like a man
the remains of a man.

Who told you to go snooping
around behind the shelves?

You were just supposed to get
the right vintage wine

and bring it up for supper.

We're gonna be for supper
if you don't stop chattering

and start blocking
those windows!

What are you talking about?

What's going on?

It's not only
the elephant out there.

I just saw a lion head straight
for your chicken coop,

Mrs. Hammond.

Good Lord!

Beulah and Pinky are in there!

Who's Beulah and Pinky?

They're my prize hens.

Come on. Come on.

What the hell is all this?

All this talk about elephants
and lions and hens?

You'd better add a gorilla
to that list, too.

Well, Chandler, we don't know
anything about it either,

but there's a herd of dangerous
animals out in that rain,

and they ain't shopping
for umbrellas.

Well, for your information,

there's a corpse down there
in the wine cellar

floating in a jug of liquid!

Ew. Cut it out, Chandler.

I'm a nervous wreck as it is.

He's not kidding, Roo.

I was the first to see it.

What's your game,
you stinking nut?

It's called pickling.

What?!

I pickle things to preserve them

like onions,
cauliflower, peppers.

And men?

That's not just any man.

That's my husband!

You're crazier
than I thought you were.

Why?

Because I refuse to cover the
tangible remains of my husband

with a curtain of soil?

Yeah, but he was all eaten away,

as if something had been
gnawing away at his bones.

Didn't your mother
ever teach you

the proper way
to pickle something?

Oh, Sash, please.

I pickled him right.

That was the way he looked
when he died.

They didn't leave much flesh
on him, did they?

Who's "they"?

Who are you talking about?

I'm talking about
that buzzing cloud

that came down from the Rockies
on that awful Friday.

It was a Friday the 13th.

And it was noontime.

I was in the kitchen fixing
some lunch for Charlie,

who was working in the grain bin
all morning.

It was a cheerful morning.

Only, there were no birds
singing.

The birds had all flown away
the night before.

Seemed like there was
just me and Charlie

and that hot noonday sun
there on the farm.

And then it was just me
and Charlie.

'Cause the sun disappeared
in a buzzing, screaming shadow.

I looked out the window.

And I saw Charlie running
from the grain bin,

all white and covered
with wheat powder.

He froze dead in his tracks

as he looked up at the sky.

And that's when
they swooped down on him,

like a black hail
of winged devils.

Locusts.

They covered my husband
with a shroud of hungry mouths,

each one chomping away
like there was no tomorrow.

They also covered
the field where he fell,

until the whole earth looked
like a pot of boiling caviar.

Oh, my God.

The wind caused by the beating
of their wings

had slammed
the kitchen window shut.

And that's what probably saved
my life.

I lay unconscious on that floor
for a day and a night.

When I awoke, the morning sun

was beginning to bleach
the bones of my husband.

But locusts
aren't supposed to eat people.

You're forgetting something.

She said her husband was
all covered with wheat powder.

Wasn't there anyone around
that could have helped?

My son was in Borneo
at the time.

I remember praying to God
on that night after I awoke

how grateful I was that my son
had been spared the death

that descended on his father.

Little was I to know

that God was to have no mercy
on my son, either,

only a hideous,
swelling vengeance.

Hey, there's a man out there.

A man?

You'd better hurry up, Toydy,
and open that door

before the lion gets bored
with his chicken dinner!

Oh, my Beulah and Pinky!

I'm so sorry.

- Shut the door. Quick!
- Oh!

Don't worry about that, mister.
I hate zoos myself.

Those ain't the tenants
of a zoo, Mack.

You all right?

Those specimens out there

are under contract
to Phineas Harlan.

You mean the circus impresario?

The one and only.

Well, what are they doing
running around outside

door-to-door advertising?

No, I lost control of my truck.

She went over the embankment
about 50 yards from the bridge

and rolled over into the mud.

You mean the bridge is out?

No, my truck.
The bridge is still there.

- Above water?
- High and dry.

Then maybe we can get
out of here and hit Highway 135?

No way, sister.

Not with all those four-legged
buggers running around.

It's not the quadrupeds
that are dangerous.

It's that gargantuan biped.

What the hell is a biped?

You're a biped, dummy.

Now, look, Chandler, I don't
mind you calling me a dummy,

but don't be calling me
any dirty Italian names.

A biped is a creature
with two legs!

You mean the gorilla I saw?
He's the dangerous one?

Uh-huh. Yeah.
Phineas Harlan pulled

all the teeth
out of the lion's mouth

and he pulled the claws out.

The circus is a fake,
a waste of money!

You mean that lion's harmless?

As harmless
as a toothless old lady.

Well, I don't know if I agree
with that saying, young man.

Mrs. Connor has no teeth,

yet she blasted her husband

with six rounds of buckshot
last spring.

Why don't you go take a walk
and find something to pickle?

I almost had me
a real nice pickle

if only you hadn't jumped away.

Let's cut the bickering, huh?

Now we have a very dangerous
situation here.

Only, if I understand you right,
mister...

Call me Bing.

All right, Bing.

But if I understand you right,

then the situation really is
not that grave.

Do you have to use
that word -- "grave"?

Oh, my God.

All I've been hearing in
this house is talk of death.

What about
that elephant out there?

Minnie's so old,
she's practically blind.

Minnie's got to use her trunk
like a silver cane.

So, then, it's just
the gorilla that's dangerous?

Don't minimize the danger, Mack.

Medusa didn't get that name
for nothing.

One look
at those blazing red eyes

surrounded
by that black matted hair

can freeze a man to a block
of stone on the spot.

She made me hard one night.

Well, what's she after?

- Bananas.
- Come again?

She's crazy about bananas.

Well, aren't we all?

Is that all she wants, bananas?

No. No.

She's...

She wants...

She needs sex.

You'd think that Phineas
whatever his name is

would get her a mate.

She doesn't like other gorillas.
They're too hairy.

Medusa likes the naked,
virile flesh of young men.

And how, pray tell,
did she get a taste for that?

That's unimportant now!

Wait a second.

Wait just one minute.

You said she got you hard
one night.

What the hell did you mean
by that?

Look, I don't like being grilled
by the cops or anyone else!

Speaking of grilled, I'd better
check on those pork chops.

Excuse me, please.

Look, mister.

We're no angels,
and we have weird tastes, too.

What's so weird
about pork chops?

I wasn't talking
about pork chops!

I was talking about you

and that big, black,
red-eyed female out there!

Toydy, that female is a gorilla.

Shut up, Sash,
and let him finish.

He's got something there.

Well, you ought to know,

being that you had it
in your hand a couple hours ago.

Now, just a minute,
Miss Wine Cellar Virgin.

Don't you go talking back to me,
or I'm gonna spill the beans.

We're not having beans tonight!

We're having corn on the cob.

You know where you can shove
that corn on the cob,

Mrs. Hammond!

Shut up, everybody,
and let me finish!

I have a score to settle
with this little cellar tramp!

You're talking
about the woman I love.

You, Chandler, and that woman?

Surprised, muscles?

You didn't think I had it in me,
huh?

I sort of knew you didn't have
it in you for a long time.

Maybe that's why
you were messing with her.

Because you didn't put it in me
back there in the car?

Well, I was sort of edgy.

But I'm not edgy anymore.

Thanks to Sash.

No, of course not.

She manages to take
the sharp edge off everything,

don't you, Sash?

You can't threaten me anymore,
Roo.

I don't care what you say.

For the first time in my life,
I'm in love with a man.

You sure about his credentials?

I'm in love with a man.

Well, it sure beats a cactus,
don't it, Sash?

What are you two talking about?

You wanted to know
why she had a red butt

when we lived in Tucson,
didn't you, Toydy?

Go ahead, Roo. I'm not afraid.

Yeah, go ahead.

I'd like to know
how she got a red butt.

It's because...

It's because
it was lonely there in Tucson,

and she was as horny
as a desert lizard.

And there was nothing
for miles around but cactus,

a forest of juicy, stumpy cactus

that rose 9 inches high
into the desert air.

Why, it was so boring,

that Sash over here would pull
up those cactus with ice tongs

and sit for hours plucking out
the needles

with her silver tweezers.

Only, you couldn't get them
all out, could you, Sash?

Yes, I could.

I got them all out.

The doctor said
that the rash in my buttocks

was caused by a type of
chlorophyll poisoning.

And she got that rash
by gyrating for hours

on the stumpy shaft
of a Tucson cactus.

How come there was no red rash
further down,

like on the private parts?

Because her private parts
were reserved

for that stuffed Gila monster
her father kept on the mantel.

Are you disappointed in me,
Chandler?

How could I be disappointed
in the woman I love?

Well, all right.

Now that you've got that
off your chest

and out of your buttocks,
what next?

What the heck is going on here?

Is this some sort of
communal therapy group?

Is that what this is?!

Well, I'd have to be speaking
only for myself

if I said that it was.

Well, whose turn is it now?

Who's gonna pull their skeleton
out of their closet

and pull them
out of the moth balls?

I was kind of hoping
it would be Gert,

seeing as how she hasn't
unlocked that door over there.

Gert's already bared her soul.

And don't go mentioning
moth balls or skeletons

or any other type of bug
when she comes in.

Well, I bared myself.

Oh, you did? When?

Back there under the staircase.

Bond and I indulged
in a little soul searching.

Didn't we, honey?

It didn't take you long to find
what you were looking for.

That's because your zipper
didn't get stuck.

Let's skip the details,
shall we?

Sure.

There's no sense in getting them
to licking their chops

before the real chops
are out of the oven.

Where's Willene?

I don't know,
but last time I seen her,

she was sitting on the floor

swooning over the voice
of her master.

Check that crazy bedroom
down the hall.

While the cat's away,
the mice do play,

even if the cat howls
over the radio once in a while.

Well, I guess it's your turn,
Bing.

My turn to what?

Bare your soul.

Oh, phooey.

Couldn't he bare something
a little more external?

I'll drink to that.

- Well, get yourself a glass.
- Get me one, too.

Get your own.

This house is full
of liquor glasses.

What did she call this place?

I heard her say something
like Prairie Blossom.

Lush Gardens
would be more fitting.

Here you are, my friend.

You're gonna need this.

To what, bare my soul?

Just consider it a form
of psychological enema.

Shh! Don't say that word!

Old Gert will come running in
with a rubber garden hose!

How thrilling!

Well, if you like things
like that, honey,

maybe I can get
Minnie the elephant

to grope around
in your peanut bag.

My bags been getting some nuts,
honey,

but they ain't been
peanut sized.

Where were they?
They from the kid?

Jealous?

Mnh-mnh. Just hungry.

Well, we'll be having pork chops
soon and corn on the cob.

But first, let's sink our teeth
into your background, Bing.

Come on.

Why don't you tell us about
Minnie, and Medusa, and...

- Samson.
- Yeah.

The lion's named Samson.

He had the strength of 10 men

until, like the biblical hero,

they clipped his toenails
and his teeth.

You said they took out
his teeth?

That's a terrible thing to do.

Sometimes men wish mine were
gone, but that's another story.

A dirty one.

Minnie is clean.
And so is Samson.

What about Medusa?

I -- I made Medusa dirty.

Did you tell your husband
about all this hocus-pocus?

My husband is a religious man,

and he's doing all he can
to rid my body of this curse.

How?

By not copulating with me

until Sister Geneva
flushes out the vileness

with her elephant syringe.

Holy cow!

You mean you let some nun stick
an elephant syringe

in your organ

while your husband
beats his meat and waits?

My husband
does not beat his meat.

He fluctuates his firmness.

Sister Geneva told us
before we were married

that we'd have to wait until
she could perform this ritual.

Oh, she did, did she?

Well, we could use that old dyke
and her syringe

just in case
Minnie gets constipated tonight.

Who's Minnie?

Didn't you hear that elephant
trumpeting out in the storm?

There's wild animals out there,
Willene.

Aren't there enough of them here
in this house?

Is that what you consider me,
an animal?

I consider you all debased
by yearnings of the flesh.

Do you see that vile object
over there?

You mean that dildo
with a fork in it?

I picked up that object 'cause
it was lying in the hall

as a stimulus to deviltry.

Am I a devil?

You're an animal.

And you're still a virgin
after how long?

Three years.

Sister Geneva's
trying to hurry it up,

but it takes a long time.

Three years.

Bride to an elephant syringe.

Sister Geneva
was a bride of Jesus.

Jesus didn't have no bride,

just widows in black
with a green elephant syringe.

It was pink.

Oh.

Well, you're right
about one thing.

What?

What was I right about?

I am an animal.

What kind?

A rhinoceros!

Can't you tell by my horn?

What are you gonna do with it?

I'm gonna prove to you that your
womanhood will not be fruitless.

That the tree of your body
will not be barren next spring.

Oh, Sister Mercy, forgive me,
for I know not what I do.

The tree of your body
may be losing a cherry,

but it's gaining two plums
and a banana!

And so needing a job and having
a great fondness for animals

led me into accepting a position
in Phineas Harlan's circus.

Did you enjoy the circus?

I enjoyed working
with the animals.

It was the people I hated.

You mean your co-workers?

Them and the audience.

You see, the animals' fatness

was a result of confinement
rather than gluttony.

Yeah, sure.

But what about you
and that gorilla?

I was coming to that.

You see, my co-workers were
very fond of practical jokes.

So, one night,
on my 31st birthday,

they got me drunk
during the celebration.

Stinking drunk.

That's a shame!

A shame you weren't there.

You like animals so much

you'd really get off
on that booze hound.

Do you want me to continue

or do you just feel like making
wisecracks all night?

I'm sorry. Go on.

Like I was saying,
I was real drunk.

And since we had been
on the road for two weeks,

I was horny as hell.

My friends said that they had
lined up a hooker for me

and that she was behind
the calliope in a tent.

I staggered across
the muddy fairgrounds,

tossing my clothes off
as I approached the two tents.

I was seeing double
by that time.

One of my friends got
on the Calliope,

and there was all this music

as I tore open the tent flap

and jumped upon the thing
in the sleeping bag.

I knew she was black and
that her skin was kind of puffy

and she smelled funny,

but I didn't care
after two weeks on the road.

Two weeks
of driving past billboards

with their bikini-clad models
holding up suntan lotions.

There was something jangling
on her wrist and feet,

but I could hardly hear

because of the loud
Calliope music.

Anyhow, I thought they were
bracelets like you're wearing.

They weren't?

The morning light revealed
their true nature.

They were chains
that held down the gorilla.

Someone had shaven her
from head to foot.

Dear Lord!

We lay there in the dim light,

her black stubby fingers
around my pecker.

Then she turned that massive
pointed head toward me

and bared those giant, yellow
teeth in a smile of affection.

I screamed!

I screamed so loud that every
creature in the circus went wild

in their cages.

Maintenance men found me lying
by the Calliope

trying to sing
"I Love You Truly."

Medusa was lying there
in the sleeping bag

massaging her breasts.

They said it took four men
from the loony bin

to carry me away.

You were put under observation?

For a whole week.

Then I was set free,
and I went back to work.

Only, this time, Medusa
was observing me every second.

And she'd make little lewd
gestures with her toes.

Made my flesh crawl.

So, why is she so dangerous
if she loves you that much?

Her love was forcibly repressed
by the bars of her cage.

When she realized she wasn't
getting anywhere with me,

she tried making love
to Senor Tostada, her trainer.

He beat her with his whip,
and she became enraged.

Senior Tostada was literally torn
limb from limb.

His arms and legs had been
tossed 15 feet into the air

and landed
into the concession stand,

falling into a bin of popcorn.

And they found his head tossed
not far away,

embedded
in the cotton-candy machine.

Aren't animals
as dangerous as that destroyed?

Phineas Harlan
couldn't destroy Medusa.

His wife loved that ape.

When he had brought
the baby Medusa from the jungle,

it was sick and near death.

Mrs. Harlan nursed it with
the milk from her own breasts.

On that hideous morning

when it was found shaven
and chained in the tent,

it was Mrs. Harlan who donated
her mink coat to Medusa

so she wouldn't catch pneumonia.

A mother's love is the strongest
thing in the world.

Like those chains
that held down the gorilla.

So, what happened?

The gorilla was kept on
in the circus?

Having tasted the flesh
and then the blood of men,

Medusa became
a murderous psychopath

obeying only Mrs. Harlan.

She later put on
Senor Tostada's boots and whip

and a leopard bikini.

And then Mrs. Harlan
took control of it.

Well, then, we women here
tonight are safe

if that gorilla
only goes ape over men.

No, you're not.

You see, the relationship soured
rather quickly

when Mrs. Harlan got
into the ring.

Why was that?

The bikini.

Mrs. Harlan was going on
59 years of age.

Her flesh was bloated
and sagging considerably.

When she ran out into the arena,

the audience screamed
their disapproval at her.

She was always visibly shaken
by the reception,

and she began to take out
her feelings on Medusa.

- By the whip?
- Yes.

She was like a female
Captain Bligh.

And in tent number 3,

Mrs. Courtney Harlan and Medusa!

Then, one night, under
the big top in Dayton, Ohio,

Medusa grabbed hold of the whip

and pulled Mrs. Harlan
within reach.

She stripped off
the old lady's bikini

in front of the horrified crowd.

I don't know what they were
more horrified at --

the enraged gorilla or Mrs.
Harlan's completely naked body.

In any case,

the gorilla tied one end
of the whip around her neck,

and then grabbing on
to the other end,

Medusa whirled her around
up high in the air.

Then the gorilla let go
of that whip

and that blasted, bloated body
went sailing over the cage

and hit the tent
and bounced back

and dropped into the arena

where the dancing hippos
were in ring number 2.

Were the hippos dancing
at the time?

Yes. The Mexican Hat Dance.

Young man, I took a heck of
a long time preparing this meal.

Now, don't go ruining it for us.

I'm just about finished.

There's not much more to say.

And yet,
after all these tragedies,

the gorilla
was still allowed to perform?

Killing old lady Harlan
was the best thing

that Medusa could have done
for Phineas Harlan.

He was now rolling
in insurance money.

Her act was kept on --

The one with Medusa was kept on,

but it was downgraded
considerably.

Her feet were chained
to a garishly painted platform.

A semi-naked woman was hired
to throw hula hoops on her.

Medusa was taught to mimic
the woman's hip movement

so that the hula hoops
would twirl.

From the way that gorilla looked
at me,

I knew exactly what she was
thinking while she was gyrating.

And so you say bananas
are the only thing

that diverts her mind
from rape and murder?

Yes, it's uncanny.

And so are these vegetables.

These are fresh vegetables from
my garden, not from a can.

So, come on.

Eat up and stop your talking.

Why are you looking
at that door, Toydy?

It's locked, and I'm curious.

Curiosity killed the cat.

A cat's a pussy,
and I'm no pussy!

No.

But when the time comes
for you to be one,

I'm sure you'll make do
with what you have.

Where's Bond?
His food's getting cold.

So is Willene's.

Don't worry about Bond.

I bet his friction
is making his meat real hot.

I suppose you're right.

And as for Willene, there's
nothing like a good pounding

to get your chops tenderized.

You'll never find
more tender chops than these.

No, but there's no harm
in looking.

Wasn't that better
than an elephant syringe?

Oh, it sure was.

It wasn't so much air pumped
in my body.

You mean there's just air
in that syringe?

No, there was seltzer
and milk of magnesia,

but then Seltzer got
too expensive,

and she started using Fizzies.

Fizzies? What's that?

Oh, it's kind of
a bubbling Kool-Aid.

Mnh.

You want I should inject you

with some more
of my special cocktail mix?

Sure. Go ahead, baby.

The shaker's all ready.

I love you, Bond!

What about
your Songbird husband?

Oh, he's hit a sour note.

Divorce is
a messy business, Willene.

Oh, there doesn't
have to be one.

Marriage can be annulled

on the grounds that it hasn't
been consummated.

I don't know about that.

That syringe has opened you up
pretty wide.

My brother Edgar, the lawyer
who lives in Kansas City

with his wife, Flora,

and their two children,
ages 9 and 13.

My brother Edgar
could win me that case.

He'd just tell them while I was
working at Flaherty's Bakery,

I accidentally squatted
on a loaf on French bread.

Oh! Oh! Tell me!

Say it!

I need a woman
as big and wide as you.

Everyone else, it's like
squeezing into a pinhole.

Oh, and I need you.

You probably about the closest
in size I'll ever find

to replace
that elephant syringe.

Working up some gravy to squirt
on your mashed potatoes?

Yeah, they're kind of dry.

Any objections to putting
cream gravy on baked potatoes?

Yeah, especially when they got
their jackets on.

Is that better?

They're kind of starchy.
Why don't you just beat it?

Well, take your hand away
from it and I will.

You don't excite me, Roo.

Why not?

You and me,
we're too much alike.

We're two of a kind

and negative charges
don't attract each other.

I don't consider myself
as negative.

Well, that's what I am --
a great, big, fat minus sign.

Well, you can say that again.

Will this change your mind?

Where were those keys?

I found them in the kitchen when
I went to get the horseradish.

I bet you one of them opens that
locked door in the living room.

Give me those keys!

Not till I get some gravy, baby.

You want an equal amount
on each potato?

Forget about potatoes.

Just concentrate on this piece
of boiled tongue.

Give it to me.

Give me those keys.

Here they are,
and it's very well deserved.

Perhaps you'll change your mind
about me.

In what way?

Birds of a feather
stick together.

I'm not ready to build no nest.

But when I do,
I don't want it to be foul.

I can take an insult and a hint.

But I don't give up so easily.

Oh, Bond.
Take me away from here.

I've got a car, money, and a
body, and they're all yours.

Maybe I can get you a job in my
husband's publicity department

stamping his signature
on all those 8x10s.

Stamping his signature?

I thought you told me
they were all hand signed?

Well, they are.

But you'll be needing a job
pretty soon,

and that's the only labor
I can think of at the moment.

You're good to me, Willene.

Nobody's ever offered me so much
for so little.

What you offered me
wasn't little.

Let's get dressed
and go eat dinner

so we can depart
on a full stomach.

There's complications out there
in the rain, Willene.

Well, if you truly love me,
you will guide us past them.

From now on, you're the captain
of the ship I call my life.

Oh!

I didn't know there was anyone
standing there.

Couldn't you smell
the pork chops?

Yeah. We didn't smell the rat.

Boy, that sounds like
our lovesick Chandler.

There's nothing sick about love.

Come on.

Just a minute, muscles.

I want to talk to you!

I'll be right with you, Willene.

Start eating without me!

Do you want to get out of
this place with that woman?

Have you been spying on us?

Spying?

That's an old story
for this room.

Now, listen to me, and shut up!

The only way you
and that girlfriend of yours

are gonna get out of here

is by flinging bananas
at that gorilla to distract him.

Who told you that?

That guy at the circus.
He wasn't kidding.

That gorilla
is a sex-crazed killer!

Well, what's that got to do
with me?

Well, don't you
and that little lady

want to get out of here?

Yeah, very much. She loves me.

That's sweet and touching.

It just so happens that I've got
a crate of bananas.

Where the heck did you get
a crate of bananas from?

I had two crates, but I burned
one up in a car accident.

I was hitchhiking to Sioux City,

and I swiped them
off this truck.

But I'll let you in on it,
though.

I'll give you the bananas,
for a price.

You know I got no money.

All your wealth is in your body.

And I want your body.

You drive a real hard bargain.

That's just what I want to do.

I want to drive it real hard
into you.

Listen, give me a second
to think it over, huh, Toydy?

Why don't you loosen
your trousers up

and give yourself
a little more room to think?

You've told us about a whole
assortment of people, Bing.

But you've told us nothing
about yourself.

Get off my back, mister.

He's not trying to get on it,
not after meeting me.

I think you're holding
something back.

Listen, young fellow!

If the food didn't agree
with you,

I got a toilet
just down the hallway.

Now, don't be shy.

Come on, Bing!
Let's have it out now!

Not in my living room,
you don't!

Gert, please. I'm eating!

Let's have it, Bing.

All right, God damn it!
All right!

It wasn't an accident!

I ran that truck off the road
on purpose!

But why?

Because I couldn't see
those animals suffer anymore

and me along with them.

Suicide?

Yes. We were on our way

to St. Barnaby's School
for Crippled Children.

In Nebraska City?

That's right!

Have you ever been there
when the circus was in town?!

Did you ever see the kids poking
at the animals

with their crutches?!

Have you ever seen an ostrich
run down by a wheelchair?!

Did you ever hear
what it sounds like

to hear a tiger's head crushed

by the blows of a broken arm
in a cast?!

Lord have mercy!

If it was an attempt
at a mercy killing,

why did you try
and kill yourself, as well?

Because God help me!

I have the hots
for that gorilla!

No woman has ever satisfied me
like she has.

Lord have mercy on your soul.

I've tried to forget her,
but I can't.

It's killing me.

I want her.

Yeah, I know that it's wrong.

Easy, kid! Easy!

They say that all is fair
in love and war.

Take it from there.

Sash, give him another drink.

I'm gonna go check on Bond.

Here, you tortured soul.

Drink this up

with the knowledge
that you may be the beauty

to soothe that savage beast.

Well, kid. What's the answer?

You better use this.

I had a feeling it would come
in handy sometime.

Hey, take it easy,
will you, Toydy?

Remember, I'm used to giving it,
not getting it.

The slower the better,
beautiful.

You should really wait
at least two hours after eating

before indulging
in any vigorous exercise.

Get the hell out of here,
Chandler!

Not on your life, Bond.

I've been waiting
a long, long time for this one.

Here.

Have a whiff of this.

It may get you more
into the festivities.

You said you wanted to hear
about my wife's love life,

didn't you, Bond?

Yeah. Sure. Tell me.

My wife, Sarah Lou Phillips,

used to have me undress alone
in the living room

with the lights off.

And then she'd have me
fold myself up

into the Castro Convertible
that her mother had bought us.

And then she'd want me
to close myself in

like a human sardine sandwich.

Sound good, doesn't it, Bond?

Oh, yeah. Great!

That's great.

Then she'd come in,
turn on the light,

unfold the Castro Convertible,

and there'd be a parakeet
on her finger.

Then, when I was stiff
from all the massaging,

she'd have me kneel on the bed.

And she'd bring
the parakeet over

and put it on my pecker
as if it were a perch.

Go faster, Chandler! Faster!

Hurry up. Hurry up!
I feel a punch line coming!

Then she'd lay on her back,
underneath my pecker,

lay on her back
with her mouth open.

Go ahead! Go ahead!

And then the goddamn parakeet
drops a stool into her mouth,

and she swallowed it!

Ugh!

Bond!
What's the meaning of this?

I was just receiving
our passport out of this place.

If that kind of passport
sends you,

then I'm afraid you're
just gonna have to go along

without me.

The crate's all yours, kid!

I'm sorry to see you go.

No more sorry than I am
to see you come.

What crate
are you talking about?

There's a crate of bananas
behind the sofa.

Your boyfriend bargained
his butt off for that fruit.

It's usually
the other way around.

Fruits are always bargaining off
their butts for me.

Well, I'm glad I was here
for the historic occasion.

Well, Willene,
now all you and Bond have to do

is run out those doors
with the crate of bananas.

And if the gorilla follows,
then just toss him a bunch.

You did that for me?

That's no big deal.

Besides, I need that job.

I saw Toydy's naked body,

so don't go telling me
it wasn't any big deal.

There's no greater love
that a man can show a woman

than to give his body
to the enemy.

Ah, come on, Willene.

I had to get broken in sometime.

This way, if things
don't work out with you,

maybe something will click
with your husband.

It's a good thing I had it
stashed away in the attic.

The smell of mothballs
is stifling.

If you think that's strong,
wait until you smell Medusa.

What the hell is going on here?

That's my wedding dress,
Chandler.

There's going be a marriage
at Prairie Blossom.

Don't you think we'd better cut
the top off, Gert,

so that when she comes in, she
won't mistake him for a woman?

- Well, who's she?
- I'm a he.

I know what you are, Bing, but
who's the she that's coming in?

Tell me when to open the door.

- Open the door for who?
- The gorilla.

Evidently, true love
cannot be quashed

by religious
or traditional taboos.

Bing has expressed his love
for the gorilla.

And she, in turn, has pursued
him across four continents

and will not be tamed
until she gets him.

I can sympathize with her.

So, when everything is ready,
we'll all --

Hey, everybody!

There is something scraping and
snorting by the outside door.

That's it.
We'll all hide in the shadows,

and I'll go out and open
the outside door.

And then, when the ape sees Bing

standing in the brightly lit
doorway with white clothes on,

she'll come in.

And that's when we all run out!

What about
those goddamn bananas?

I've got a crate of bananas.

After she sees Bing,
she won't need them.

Bing's top banana.

I'll believe that when I see it.

The bananas can remain here
as a wedding gift, if you wish.

You really gave me the shaft,
Mack.

The pleasure was all mine.

And what about you, Gert?

Where are you going to run to?

I'm running nowhere.

It's been a long time

since this house
has seen happiness and love.

Once, these walls did echo
with the gayest of laughter.

But that was when my husband
was alive and my son existed.

It is my honor now to be hostess
to a courageous man

and the animal he loves and
who also shares his sentiment.

She's in no danger
as long as Medusa sees me first.

After I've given myself
to the gorilla again,

I expect great psychological
transformations to occur

in the skull of that primate.

You'll see.

Get back in there
with those others.

Whatever loot
she's hiding in here is mine.

Like hell it is.

If I hadn't gone in the kitchen
for that horseradish,

you never would have got
those keys.

Look, you got your horseradish

and you got an extra helping
of creamed gravy.

What the hell else do you want?

A chicken in every pot

and creamed gravy
seven nights a week.

I found it.
I found the key! I found it!

Aah!

You see, there's really no sense
in fighting

if you only live once.

Oh, it will be a pleasure
to cater to your honeymoon

with bananas, bonbons,
and a change of linens!

Oh!

Lay low! Lay low!

His testicles are enormous!

Who was that'?!

He who does not exist.

Let me out! Let me out!

Let me out of here!
God have mercy!

Oh, my God! It's her!

- The gorilla!
- She busted down the door!

Oh, Chandler! What do we do?!

When she smashes her way in,
we'll make a dash for freedom.

Will you take this man to be
your lawfully wedded husband?

Run!

In sickness and in health.

Till death do us part.

I told a lie.

A little white lie.

You see, he does exist
behind this door.

But not out here
in the world of sanity.

Behold thy marriage chamber
and thy mate for eternity.

The parasites that have sucked
the juices from your body

have not all belonged
to the insect population.

Many shrewd businessmen
have fattened their wallets

by exhibiting your animalism.

It's not my wallet
that I want fattened.

It's you.

Fattened with our first child.

Our first newborn child.

The first of a race of supermen.

For God's sake have mercy!

God has no mercy!

You see what he's done
to my son!

Gerald had gone to Borneo to
collect some erotic artifacts.

That was all --
a harmless excursion

into the steaming tropics
in the name of art.

But he was smitten with a vile
and swelling tropical disorder.

A malignancy
of glandular grotesqueness

that struck at the very root
of his manhood.

You see him now

at the pinnacle of his disorder,

repulsive to both man
and woman alike.

And what is more important --

repulsive to himself.

So self-revolting,

his mind became unbalanced.

Knowing that the one thing
that made his life worth living

was being crushed by the weight
of his own testicles.

For his safety and mine

and for the safety
of Beulah and Pinky,

I had to lock him up
behind this door!

The weight of that malignancy
on our fragile bodies

would have crushed
the very life out of us.

You two are strong.

You'll survive.

You'll give Gerald
a taste of the sweetness

that was once his whole life.

You'll survive.

And I pity you!

The storm is over,

and God has given me
the sun and you

on this, the first morning
of our lives.

Now, don't you go putting
all your eggs in one basket,

Willene.

I've got my hand in your basket,
and it feels nice and firm.

- Yeah?
- I'm not worried about no eggs.

Well, just as long as you don't
go losing your marbles over me.

I'm young, and I'm restless.

And I'm not to be trusted.

A lot of energy in this body,
Willene,

and it hops around
from bed to bed like a flea.

To be bit by a lovebug like me

could be a pretty scratchy
situation.

I don't care, my love.

All I ask is that when I start
itching, you start scratching.

Bond?

Yes?

I'm starting to itch.

Where do you want me to scratch?

The rain is stopping, Chandler.

Perhaps the road to Texas
will not be muddy.

Do you see that sliver
of rosy light over there?

That's where we're going, Sash.

We're getting out of the mud
and into a bed of roses.

That rosy light is the dawn,
Chandler.

Texas is to the south, not east.

My heart is towards the east,
towards the glow of a new day --

a day without vengeance
and a day without hate.

Will your heart lead you
to that bed of roses,

or are you relying on your nose?

I'm relying on the sign
we just passed.

Rose Haven Motel,
6 miles east down Route 18.

That's where we'll find our bed,
Sash.

I'm pouring myself a drink,
Charlie!

Only, it ain't to forget
my loneliness.

We have company now.

And the house
is full of human voices.

Like it was 15 years ago.

There are also the voices
of the inhuman

and those that suffer.

But they suffer no more.

Ahh!

Remind me to go shopping today
for some chopped meat,

vegetables, milk, and honey.

And I'll need
at least three dozen bananas

and some heads of lettuce.

And, of course, my cucumbers.

I mustn't forget my cucumbers.

People come and go,

but the cucumbers must stay.

Join me in a toast, Charlie.

A toast to love and happiness.

And to a life that won't go sour

and turn every cucumber
into a pickle.