Original subtitles

¶ [SPOOKY THEME MUSIC THROUGHOUT] ¶

¶¶

MAURICE: Larry? Larry, where are you?

Larry! Come on out. Lar-ry!!!

Larry where are you...Larry.

Larry, Larry!

You've got to start the show?

Can't you read? I'm on strike.

Good. Now start the show.

That's it. You, like everyone else,

thinks Larry will always be here.

What are you talking about?

Forget strike...

That's better.

I quit!

What? No you can't, you can't!

Oh yeah. I'm outta here.

Oh No! Larry!

[FARTS]

Would you cut that out.

I'm sorry. It happens when ever I get tense.

Well, relax, loosen up. Will ya?

Okay -- this is your host, Larry,

introducing our first... and my last...

[BELCH]

Freaky Story. You're gonna love it.

Would you cut that out!

HIGH SCHOOLER LORI: This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine. Josh.

You know, the really cute guy who sits

next to me in chemistry.

All Josh really cares about is his car.

It's not even that special. But he's always fixing

and tinkering with it.

He never looks up.

Once, when I was walking by,

for the tenth or twelfth time that hour,

he asked me to hand him a ratchet wrench.

I'm pretty sure he recognized my hand.

Anyway, that car of his costs him a fortune.

Which is why, I guess, Josh ended up taking that job

at the pizza joint.

There was this notice up on the school bulletin board.

The pizza parlour was looking for a new driver.

Had to have his own wheels.

So Josh met the owner for an interview.

Which mostly consisted of the guy tossing a pizza

while asking Josh if he could begin right away.

Since Sidney, the last delivery kid went out with

a pizza and never came back.

Josh asked about the pay, which he learned was

minimum wage, and tips.

Unless of course, a pizza took longer than

thirty minutes to deliver.

Then the cost of the pizza came out of his pocket.

He could live with that, so Josh got a hat,

and a uniform shirt, with his name on it.

Around ten thirty, the boss said he had to leave,

but that he's made up a couple of pizzas.

Josh could pop them in the oven and drop them off

on his way home.

So there was Josh, his first night on the job,

sitting in the pizza joint waiting for the clock

to hit eleven.

At five to, the phone rang. It was a girl.

Kind of sexy voice, asking for a couple of pizzas.

No problem. He'd be there in thirty minutes or it was free.

Josh baked the pizzas, closed the restaurant

and headed for his car.

And he still had fifteen minutes to make

a seven minute trip.

But suddenly,

[SCREEECH-CLUNK]

The car limped to a stop.

Josh jumped out, flipped up the hood, and tinkered until,

he got the engine to crank up again.

He raced the rest of the way.

But it had been more than thirty minutes!

Josh knocked on the door of a big dark house.

A very pretty girl came to the door.

Poor Josh, he was so embarrassed.

He apologized for being late, and begged her not

to tell his boss.

The girl just laughed,

and told him she'd pay for the pizzas,

so why didn't he just come in and wait till

she found her purse. She asked Josh if he was hungry.

She thought maybe he'd like to join her

for some of that pizza.

Well, Josh figured it was okay, since he was on

his own time now, and he was kind of hungry.

She asked Josh to get some soft drinks from the fridge

in the basement, and she handed him a candle.

So he went down these creaky old stairs,

and when he got to the bottom,

he tripped and the candle went out.

Josh, took out his pocket flashlight, and shone it

around the gray, wet dripping walls.

No fridge. But there was a door. And he opened it.

Inside was a coat rack.

And on each hook was a Pizza shirt,

just like his.

Each with a different name on it.

The closest one said "Sidney".

He turned to go, and standing in the doorway

was the girl holding the largest sharpest pizza cutter

he'd ever seen.

She just smiled at him and said,

"How many slices can I make you".

[SCREAMS]

[TIRES SCREECH]

This is a true story.

Happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

Josh, who turns white as a ghost whenever I ask him

if he'd like to go out for a pizza some time.

He's so cute.

Good evening ladies and germs.

You know, a funny thing happened on my way

to the diner today. [LAUGHS]

A slug came up and, asked me for five dollars

for a cup of slime?"

I said, "slime doesn't cost 5 dollars

it only costs a dollar."

He said, "Yeah but, I'm a big tipper."

[LAUGHS]

[COUGHS]

But seriously.

[LARRY CLEARS HIS THROAT]

I, er, Hi Larry ... I didn't know you

were still here.

Man oh man, he must want my job...real bad.

He can't even tell a...

Anyway, here's our next...

Freaky Story.

It's one... It's one of my favorites...

BOTH: Aaaaaaaeeeee!!!!!

MARGIE: This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

And I'd like to get a lot more friendly with him,

if you get my drift.

His name's Al. Big Al.

Pecs like watermelons,

biceps like papayas, quads like cantaloupes.

Al's one yummy fruit salad.

Makes a good living too. Installs carpets.

So what's his flaw?

His cigar. Always stuck in his face.

One day, Al goes to install some nylon-poli shag

in this house, where the lady, a kind of prissy old thing,

sees Al's cigar and lets him know,

she doesn't want to see that thing inside her house.

And what a home it was.

Beautiful furniture, lots of fancy pictures,

antiques all over the place, and hanging from the ceiling,

a real fancy bird cage that belonged in a museum...

like some kind of wire palace.

Oh, yeah, there was a bird in it, a little canary

the lady called Queenie.

Well, Al clears out the furniture into the other room.

But when he goes to move the bird cage,

the lady says

Queenie stays. That cage isn't on the floor

and besides, she says,

Queenie likes to observe people.

Well, Al hauls in the carpet and starts laying it out.

Now, there's no one in the room, except him and Queenie.

So he starts talking to the bird.

Now, the bird's not talking back, except for a little

tweet now and then, but Al is feeling some kind of...

what do you call it?

Affinity.

Now, here's where the cigar comes into the story.

When the lady says she's got to go out to buy bird food,

Al sees his chance to get a couple of chomps

on his cigar stub.

So there he is, chompin' on the cigar,

chit-chattin' with Queenie

and installing the nylon-poli shag,

stretching and banging the carpet onto the tacks

along the baseboards.

On it goes, Chomp-chomp. Gab-gab.

Bang-bang. Chomp-chomp.

Gab-gab. Bang-bang.

After a while,

Al got to thinking Queenie was kind of sad,

being locked in her cage.

So he opened the door and Queenie flew out.

Al sat back against the wall, rolled the cigar butt

around in his mouth and watched his little

feathered pal have the time of her life...

until he heard the key in the door.

Al stashed the cigar butt in his pocket

and tried to get Queenie back into her cage.

But that bird would have no part of it.

When the lady came back,

Al tried to stand between her and the cage

so she wouldn't notice it was empty.

But wouldn't you know it, the bird comes in and lands

right on Al's shoulder.

All he could do was paste on a weak,

namby- pamby kinda grin.

But the lady, she just laughs and laughs.

Because, she tells Al, she always lets Queenie

out of the cage. Well, this is a big relief to Al,

who goes back to work.

And now, with all that time he wasted playing

with the bird, he was way behind schedule.

So he just worked faster.

In what seemed like no time,

Al was standing in the doorway, calling the lady

to inspect the beautiful job he did.

And when she came to stand beside him, she pointed

to the center of the floor where there

was a bump in the carpet.

"What in the world is that?"

Now, Al knows that when he shoved the cigar

into his pocket,

it must have fallen out and got caught under the carpet.

But he's not about to confess he was chomping on his cigar.

So he says, "Little air pocket."

And he takes out his mallet

and whacks the air pocket flat.

So Al gets the work order signed and is out the door

like a shot.

And while he's getting into his truck,

he's stuffing the work order into his pocket,

and there it is. His cigar.

And then it hits him.

If he's got the cigar stub, what was under the rug?

And just then, the lady comes running out of the house,

screaming, "Queenie! Queenie! Where's my little Queenie?"

And that was a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine, Al,

who's grown to a flabby three hundred pounds

since he quit installing carpets.

Oh man, oh man, this job hunting is bulogna.

The interviews, man they're killing me.

Oh, sorry, Mr. Money Man, business is not for me.

Uh-uh...

'cause I got show business in my blood.

¶¶

Maestro.

¶ I GOTTA DANCE MY DANCE AND SING MY SONG. ¶

¶ I GOTTA ENTERTAIN YOU ALL NIGHT LONG. ¶

¶ I GOTTA WARBLE AND CROON A HAPPY OLD TUNE ¶

¶ AND TWINKLE MY TOES SO HERE'S HOW IT GOES. ¶

¶ [TAP DANCING] ¶

Get the feet! Get the feet!

¶ [TAP DANCING] ¶

[LAUGHS]

How embarrassing.

Well good bye, everybody.

I'm sure they'll find someone to take my place...

Oh ya and...

Roll the next story.

[LAUGHS]

JIMMY'S BUD: This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine...

Jimmy was the best. When it came to getting a story,

Jimmy was a photo journalist in a class by himself...

a stringer for the tabloids.

He could put together a story like no one else.

One day, Jimmy got a lead on a bunch of UFO nuts out in the

New Mexico desert, at this "Area 51" place.

They're saying that a UFO crashed there back in '47

and that the Army had the spaceship and the aliens

locked away on ice.

That night, Jimmy was scoping out "Area 51";

a few square miles of scrub desert, with some tumble down

Quonset huts and a couple of weather beaten

airplane hangars.

The whole pile of worthless real estate was surrounded

by a gleaming, stainless steel chain-link

and barbed-wire fence, and cameras.

To a guy like Jimmy, where a Keep Out sign is a welcome mat

-- a set-up like this was an engraved invitation.

He broke out his gear, found a dry gully, hid the car

under a pile of tumble weeds and set out on foot.

Then he used his alligator clips to bypass

the deadly electrified fence. Piece o' cake!

The hangar where the space stuff was stashed was

a couple hundred yards from the fence.

From a distance, it looked like a breeze

would knock it over.

But up close - solid as a rock.

A titanium re-enforced rock.

So he slipped his skeleton key into the lock.

The door swung open and he was in.

He quietly shut the door and surveyed the inside

of the hangar as he adjusted the night vision goggles.

There were things there in the hangar.

It was difficult to make out the strange shapes

through the goggles.

These things were obviously a product of a superior

alien technology.

The pictures would be worth a fortune.

He kept snapping away.

The infrared film would pick up all of the detail....

Suddenly --

[SIREN BLARES]

Jimmy must have tripped an alarm --

or maybe they found the car!

Quickly, he rewound and unloaded the film

and hid it in the cuff of his pants.

Then reloaded and kept shooting.

That's how the MP's found him.

They ripped the film outta the camera,

and marched Jimmy to the guard house.

But if they arrested him, it would mean them telling

something about this place to the local cops.

So they let Jimmy go.

He jumped in the car and hightailed it out of there.

Now Jimmy, not being one to waste time,

was on the phone as he drove.

He'd whipped the editors of the tabloids into a frenzy

for his exclusive pictures of the alien spacecraft.

He pulled into the paper's parking lot,

presented the editor with the precious film canister

and collected a very heavy suitcase full of green stuff.

They ran the canister to the photolab where it was scanned

into the paper's mainframe computer.

Then it was e- mailed to the print department

and two hours later, newspapers hit the streets

all across the country.

One small problem.

No one had actually bothered to look at Jimmy's pictures

before they were printed.

Jimmy never even actually saw what he was photographing.

So you can imagine the uproar when Jimmy's pictures of

an alien spaceship turned out to be the

Army's new Top Secret Potato Peeler.

Of course, Jimmy was fired.

So a few months later, Jimmy was working

as a Private Detective.

He was tailing this businessman and his girlfriend

through the museum, taking pictures for the guy's wife

to use in her divorce case.

Jimmy was snapping and when he backed up

to get a better view.

He bumped into a big display case.

He turned, and that's when he came face to face

with an old "friend".

It was the Alien and it's Spaceship:

From Roswell, New Mexico.

Hidden away in plain sight

where no one would ever find it.

Hey. It's a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine, Jimmy.

Turns out the spaceship had been right there, in the

museum since about 1947. But Jimmy can't tell anyone...

Who would believe him..?

And now, as the new host of Freaky Stories,

I am proud to introduce to you...

How could they possibly hire you???

Well, they said, that if I can control myself --

you know what happens when I get tense --

Oh and what makes you tense?

Well you know someone staring at me or something.

Right.

And now, for our next Freaky Story...

This next story is one of the freakiest...

[RASPBERRY SOUND]

Excuse me...

Hey, that wasn't me!

Okay, where was I? Oh, okay, this...

[RASPBERRY SOUND]

I swear! I'm not doing that!

[RASPBERRY SOUND]

Now that was me!

Thank you! Roll the next one.

I'm still the fairest story introducer of them all.

Heh-heh-heh-heh...

Oh Maurice!

GAS STATION OWNER: This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine, Moody.

Owns the Moody's Motel.

Can't miss it. Big sign says,

"Moody's Motel - Home of Moody's Miracle Blunder Bed."

Last Saturday night, Len, a big friendly moose of a guy,

wheeled into the motel parking lot. He was dead tired and

wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep.

Len rang the office buzzer and woke up Moody.

"Are you nuts?" boomed Moody, "It's 2 A.M!"

Len pasted on a smile and introduced himself as

the last of a dying breed of salesman travelling across

this great country.

"It's fifty bucks for a room."

Len couldn't help asking about Moody's Miracle Blunder Beds,

were they included in the room charge?

Moody nodded and cracking a smug smile he answered,

"Everything at Moody's is included.

I guarantee it'll be a sleep you'll never forget."

With that, Len strutted out the door with a room key.

Len set his appointment book exactly how he liked it

on the night stand so he could check it

first thing in the morning.

Then, he searched for the bed's massage control

but couldn't find it anywhere.

This had better be a Miracle Blunder Bed, Len thought.

And it better be working.

He picked up the phone and tried to get Moody.

But there was no answer.

Frustrated, he flopped down on the mattress.

Just then, he heard a faint, weird, almost mechanical,

rubbing sound.

Len thought it was the distant roar of the highway

or maybe ringing in his ears from listening to too much

of that New Country radio.

Then he felt something at his fingertips.

He ripped back the bed covers and saw that the mattress

was moving.

Must be touch activated.

Len grinned, as he slipped into the

inviting Miracle Blunder Bed.

It felt like a thousand busy fingers

were massaging his body.

All his aches and pains from knocking on doors

just slipped away.

Its soothing fingers, just dragged him into

a deep dreamy sleep.

Until 10:00 the next morning, when he woke up.

Len sprang out of the bed feeling like

he could sell anything.

I could surely sell Moody's Miracle Blunder Beds...

hundreds of 'em... thousands!

He burst out of the room and sprinted to

the motel office babbling something about

the deal of a lifetime.

Len begged Moody to tell him who manufactured his beds.

"I could sell them to every motel in the country...

in the whole world!"

Moody shrugged, "I make them myself for my motel and

I'm not interested in selling them to anybody else."

But Len kept pressing and pressing until the motel owner

slammed the door in Len's face.

Len was crushed and he drove away.

But before too long, he realized he had forgotten

his treasured appointment book back at the motel.

Len knew one thing, he could try to live without

Moody's Miracle Blunder Beds but he couldn't live

without his appointment book.

So he hung a U-turn and headed back.

Len found his book on the floor between the bed

and the night stand.

As he reached for it, he noticed the mattress move.

It kinda freaked him out because he hadn't touched

the bed to activate its massage fingers.

He picked up his appointment book,

then noticed a small hole in the side of

the bulging mattress.

Of course, thought Len, the Miracle Blunder Bed's

secret massage mechanism.

If I can get a look at that mechanism, who needs Moody?

Len put his eye up to the hole,

but it was too small to see what was moving inside.

So he poked his finger in to make it bigger.

Just then, the mattress ripped open, spilling thousands

of cockroaches all over him! Cockroaches!

No magic anything. Just roaches.

Len ran from the room covered with bugs.

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine, Len,

who's still selling encyclopedias,

but now travels in an RV.

And yes, he makes his own bed.

Ladies and gentlemen, the producers will announce

the name of our permanent host next week.

Thank you.

Hey, boss, you can't do this! I need this job!

Okay please...

Please don't let me go. Ple-e-e-e-a-se...

I'll do anything you want.

I'll... I'll sweep the floor.

I'll carry your bags. I'm on my knees here.

I'll do anything!

...Anything

... well not quite anything

I'm begging you. Pleading...

I need this job! [SOBS]

Hey, Was that acting, or what?

Let's face it with talent like mine, who needs a real job?

[SNICKERS] See ya next week...

I hope.