Original subtitles

¶¶¶

LARRY: Hey. This is an exciting show.

You see, Maurice wants to bring you some really

special stuff.

He says he's got the Abominable Snowman.

He said he went to the coldest,

bleakest, Northest part of Canada's Yukon Territory.

Maurice even got a satellite hookup.

So, right after tonight's first story,

we're gonna bring you Maurice and Sasquatch.

The one without the fur will be Maurice.

So, here we go.

Our first Freaky Story.

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine,

Murray, the landlord at my old apartment in the Pittman

Building on Twelfth Street?

Actually, everybody called it the Pit,

'cause it was such a disgusting hole.

But it didn't matter to me, 'cause I'm a travelling

salesman -- a hole to call my own is all I need.

Besides, the worst part of living in the Pit wasn't how

disgusting it was, it was having to put up with Murray.

Murray the Moocher was a real prize.

For instance, when Murray came to collect the rent,

it would always be at mealtime.

He would stick around and mooch his dinner.

Or when he'd help someone take in their groceries he'd

always mooch a few cans and boxes.

And if anyone complained about a leak water pipe,

Murray would charge them extra for having

a second shower.

In fact, the last time Murray paid to repair

anything in the building was 1972,

when he bought an eye piece for his doorway so he could

see when the building inspectors were coming.

Now one thing I'll say for Murray, most landlords don't

like you having pets, but at the Pit,

the "pets" came free with the apartment.

You guessed it -- Murray's apartments all had rats.

And we're not talking furry little cartoon mice.

We're talking rats the size of Checker cabs,

with all the attitude and charm of Attila the Hun.

Now, like I said, I'm a travelling salesman.

So one particular month, the company gives me this

perfume to unload.

Well, actually, it was supposed to be perfume,

but they'd tested it on rats,

and did it stink, the smell of this stuff drove the rats

crazy!

They couldn't stand it!

The company was stuck with 5,000 cases,

so I figured, "Hey!

Why not sell it as rat spray?"

With Murray, I've got a ready-made customer

in my own building.

One whiff of this stuff, and it's good-bye rats,

hello potential rent increases.

So I go down to see Murray.

It was the first time I'd ever been to his basement

apartment.

Oh ho, looking around, I wasn't eager

for a return trip.

It was filthy!

Anyway, I went into my pitch about the rat spray,

but all Murray says is: "I didn't pay for them to come

here, so why should I pay for them to leave?"

But old Mr. Crandall, who's always hanging around in the

hallway, he overheard our conversation,

and decides to order a bottle.

And he tells Mrs. Thomas in 5E,

and she tells Mr. Gillings in 2A...

and before you know it, I'd sold out my entire inventory

to every tenant in the building!

Murray, of course, is loving this.

Without having to spend a dime,

he's gonna get a rat-free building.

And he can charge double the rent!

Pretty soon, everybody's spraying every nook and

cranny of their apartments.

Me included.

It smelled kinda like old sweat socks,

but the rats -- they couldn't STAND it.

They were running around everywhere,

trying to get away from the smell.

Within minutes the whole building was as rat-free

as a cat convention.

The perfume really worked!

But where had all the rats gone?

The one place that hadn't been sprayed?

Murray's apartment!

A bunch of us went down there,

and it was crawling with hundreds and hundreds of

sharp-toothed, squeaky, foul-smelling rats!

There was nowhere else for them to go.

They were eating everything in sight --

food, furniture, everything!

And in the corner, there was Murray,

cowering like a baby.

Then we saw what was -- for Murray -- the most horrific

thing of all: the rats had eaten all the rent money

Murray had been collecting for years...which was hidden

in the bottom of cereal boxes,

where robbers wouldn't look.

But rats just LOVE cereal boxes!

That was a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine,

Murray, who now insists on everyone paying

their rent... in coins.

Hi, there, from the Yukon.

I have Sasquatch in sight and I'll show him to you as

soon as we get the cameras defrosted enough

to move 'em.

So, back to you, Larry.

While we're waiting, let's have our next Freaky Story.

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

Jenny was never afraid of anything.

Even as a kid you couldn't get a scare out of her.

Not with spiders.

Not with snakes.

Not with nothing.

Billy Crichuck once snuck a dead bat into her rain boots

at school...

She dissected it for extra credit.

At Halloween the kids'd bet each other how many seconds

they could stand on creepy Mrs. Wheeler's porch.

Jenny won with an hour and a half.

Nothing could shake her....

That is until last summer when that maniac

got on the loose.

Just looking at the "Wanted" poster and you knew the guy

was a classic psycho.

Dirty trench coat.

One crutch, broken glasses and a wool cap.

Mrs. Potter'd turned off her kitchen light one night to

find him staring right back at her through the window.

Henrietta Grimsby from twelfth grade looked in her

rearview mirror at the drive-in and saw him sitting

in the back seat.

So when Jenny's parents insisted she couldn't stay

alone while they flew off to Aunt Mabel's wedding

in Kapitski...

Jenny had other ideas.

The biology final was only four weeks away and there

was work to be done on her elongated grub study.

Jenny looked forward to a quiet weekend.

Just her and the grubs...

And Duke, of course.

Oh... Didn't I mention the family dog?

One hundred and eighty pounds of serious canine.

I mean, the girl wasn't completely stupid.

She studied for a little while,

locked the door and hit the sack early,

with Duke on the floor beside her.

But then there was a banging noise.

Then a series of dull thuds.

Jenny's heart beat hard in her chest,

her breathing shallow and quick as she stared blindly

round her pitch black room.

Jenny pulled her foot out from under the covers and

was searching for her slippers on the floor below...

When she felt the gentlest of licking on the tips of

her toes.

Duke was sleeping under the bed.

He'd be barking his head off if there was some maniac in

the house right?

So Jenny just said, "Good dog."

Rolled over and went back to sleep.

Minutes later she was sitting straight up in bed,

terrified.

This time the noise was more like a scraping.

And a grunting.

And a kind of slobbering coming from deep in the

belly of the house.

Again her foot searched for the slippers.

And again a reassuring lick or two convinced Jenny that

all was well.

The third time Jenny woke up she was nearly

paralyzed with fear.

The sound was a cry.

A long, mournful, wailing.

Like something from the dead.

Like a mad man.

Jenny tried to calm down.

It was probably the wind.

Or maybe she'd left the TV on.

She knew she had to go downstairs.

But it was all she could do to pull her feet out from

under the covers and swing them off the side of the bed.

Again there was a gentle licking.

Duke was still there.

So Jenny made her way to the door and down the stairs and

into the deserted kitchen.

Moonlight streamed through the window throwing shadows

across the tile and up the walls and

over the cellar door.

Uh, the cellar door.

Whatever was making that horrible noise was there,

down in the basement.

So Jenny swallowed hard.

Reached for the doorknob.

Pulled the door open and tried not to shudder as she

flicked on the one little bulb.

There was Duke all sad and howling,

tail between his legs, empty packets of hamburger

scattered around and an ashamed kind of look

on his face.

That's what all that noise had been.

The slobbering and scraping and howling.

The dog had been locked in the basement and -

then it hit her.

How could the dog be locked in the basement?

He'd been licking her feet the whole night.

Then Jenny looked out the window and there he was,

running away from the house dirty trench coat,

broken glasses, one crutch and a wool cap.

He looked back over his shoulder and shouted to

Jenny "I can lick too".

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

[screams]

Oh Jenny was all right.

She screamed and fainted and woke up with the dog

really licking her feet this time...and she realized

dogs do lick different than humans.

They slobber less.

Come in, Maurice.

Just like I promised...

the Abominable Snowman.

That's nothing but a teddy bear!

No, no...it's the monster, only he's far away so,

you know, he looks small.

You said it'd look like Sasquatch.

Back to you, Larry.

Do You think Maurice could be scamming us?

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

'Kay, so Megan's not exactly a friend...

I'm kind of more popular and,

I hate to sound conceited, prettier.

Anyway, this story doesn't even start with Megan,

it starts with Bradley, a boy who happened to be

Megan's boyfriend.

You see, Bradley's family had this real pain of a

mutt, called Nutmeg.

Well, one morning, Bradley's mom noticed that Nutmeg

wasn't up to her usual, destructive self.

She just kind of stayed curled up near the door and

wasn't interested in anything but sleeping.

So she bundled the mutt up and took her to the vet.

Oh, the vet could see that something wasn't right,

but he couldn't tell for sure without

taking some tests.

You know, he took some blood and asked Bradely's mom to

bring in a sample of Nutmeg's poop for testing.

Well, after dinner, Nutmeg went out for her usual run

in the park.

She asked Bradley to drop the "sample" off at the

vet's on his way home from school the next day.

But Bradley made all kinds of excuses so he wouldn't

have to carry around that stuff.

He claimed he had soccer practice.

His mom said that's okay, the vet's open late.

Then he said he's got to go to Dave's house to dissect a

frog for science class.

Yeah, right, like Bradley knew one end of a frog

from another.

The poor dog was real sick and taking the sample to the

vet was the least Bradley could do.

Okay, so Bradley's mom, being considerate and all,

wrapped the sample in a box so nobody would know

what it was.

Bradley could leave the box in his locker and drop it

off at the vet on his way to studying or whatever.

When Bradley got to school, he was glad to see that Dave

- that's the kid who shared his locker - had the locker

door open and ready for Bradley to slip his backpack

in without too much fuss.

But the backpack was bulging on account of

the box of poop.

So Bradley took the box out, shoved the backpack in and

put the box on the top shelf.

Then, Bradley headed off to his homeroom.

And who did he bump into?

His girlfriend, Megan.

She was all excited because it was their three month

anniversary.

Well, Bradley wasn't totally stupid.

He said that he did have something for Megan,

but he wanted to give it to her after school.

Bradley figured how, at lunchtime,

he could get to the mall, buy a present and get back

without missing a class.

But when Megan went to Bradley's locker to find him

so she'd know where and when to meet after school,

Dave was there, but no Bradley.

And Megan spotted the box.

Cool, she figured, Bradley really did get her something

for their anniversary.

And at lunch, she bragged to me that Bradley

got her a present.

But Bradley was so...

Bradley I simply wouldn't believe he got Megan a

present unless I could see it with my own eyes.

I suggested Megan should go and open the locker -

after all, girlfriends and boyfriends know each other's

locker combinations.

Megan felt like it wasn't the right thing to do.

But then, along came Susan and Jodi,

who happen to be my friends and we kind of ganged up

on Megan.

Who still wouldn't give in.

Now, Susan once was Dave's girlfriend.

That was before his dermological misfortunes.

So she still knew the combination to the locker.

And to our surprise, there it was.

A box.

But what could be in it?

Well, Jodi hovered close over the box

while Susan opened it.

The screams that exploded through the high school

halls that day rattled the trophy case.

[screaming]

Susan flung the box against the locker with such force,

the you-know-what splatted all over the place.

Mostly all over Susan and Jodi.

Oh yeah, this is a true story.

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

and Nutmeg is just fine...

even after she ate Bradley's science project.

Turns out the dog loves frog's legs.

Come in, Maurice.

Uh, um.

Hey! Come on, more snow!

We're out of snow.

Maurice!

Where are you?!

Um, I can't hear you.

Kchchchchchc - chchchc...

Breaking up. Chhhhh...

Found some snow.

What can I say?

Uh. Here's another Freaky Story.

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine,

Freddie.

That's what Frederica called herself.

She was a regular ten- year old kid,

like me.

But Freddie had to put up with an annoying thirteen

year old brother named Teddy.

Freddie and Teddy...

was that supposed to be cute or something?

Anyway, Teddy's life was all about his electronic video

games, his silly ant farm, his scary heavy metal

posters and the stupid comic books he hid under his bed.

Even with all these hobbies, Teddy still had free time to

bug his little sister.

Like when Freddie would ask to play with Teddy's

electronic games, Teddy'd say,

"You're not old enough for Mega Monster Marauders."

When she'd ask to see his precious ant farm,

he'd say, "No way!

If my ants see your dopey face,

it'll scare them half to death."

And when Freddie skinned her knee.

And her mom made her chocolate pudding to take

her mind off the hurt.

Guess who sneaked in and ate the pudding before she could

get to it?

Yeah, right.

Luckily Freddie's favorite stuff wasn't pudding.

It was maple syrup.

Freddie loved maple syrup...

really loved it.

It was her favorite food in the whole world.

That's why Freddie loved to go to the Pancake Castle.

Freddie's mom loved the Belgian waffles.

Her dad loved the buttermilk pancakes and her goony

brother loved to dunk Freddie's hair in the melted

butter when Mom and Dad weren't looking.

Now, Freddie'd always take home a bunch of those little

maple syrup packets from the restaurant.

She collected 'em. that was her hobby.

By the time she was ten, she had more than two thousand

of those maple syrup packet-things stuffed in the

back of her closet.

Two thousand ...amazing.

Anyhow, one day Teddy decided he needed to have

some fun...y'know, see how mad he could make Freddie.

So while Freddie was playing jump rope with me,

Teddy got to her maple syrup collection,

and began to poke tiny little holes in the packets

so the maple syrup could drip out into a bucket.

Poke-poke-poke.

Dee-rip-drip-drip.

But one bucket wasn't enough to hold all the syrup that

he was pouring.

So Teddy emptied the bucket into the bathtub and filled

another bucket.

And another one.

Then another.

And later, when Freddie went home for her daily snack of

pop-up waffles and maple syrup.

She sat down at the table and slid two frozen waffles

into the toaster.

But when she peeled off the top of the maple syrup

packet...

nothing came out.

She tried another packet.

Empty.

They were all empty!

Empty! Empty! Empty!

"No maple syrup. Grrrrrrr..."

It was payback time.

Freddie got herself ready with a couple of boxes of

frozen waffles.

The trap was ready.

And she set the bait...

which, in this case, was her very own self.

She went to Teddy's door, pulled it open and unplugged

his joy stick just as he was about to break his own

world-record of killing eighteen thousand of those

mega monster marauder things.

"You're not gonna live till dinner," Teddy howled.

And he took off after her tearing down the hall.

She led him on a wild chase through the house,

then ambushed him at the bathroom door.

Freddie flung her frozen waffles.

Bonk, a direct hit.

Ooof!

Then another hit.

Teddy took one frozen waffle hit after another.

The attack continued.

He backed his way into the safety of the bathroom.

Back...back...back...until.

Until he tripped and fell right into the bath tub.

Into Freddie's maple syrup!

Spu-lash!

He dragged himself up - out of the slimy,

gooey glop.

"I'll get you for this," he sputtered,

as the sticky maple syrup oozed down his body.

And that's when Freddie released Teddy's precious

ant collection.

Thousands of them, the whole farm,

flooded under the bathroom door.

And we all know how ants LOVE maple syrup.

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine,

Freddie.

Now her big brother, Teddy leaves her alone.

He's learned his lesson.

And he doesn't want to end up covered with orange

marmalade, which is what Freddie now collects...

Dear Larry, my baby loves the sound of your voice.

Can you read him a bedtime story?

Well I just happen to have one here.

Oh goody! I could use a nap.

Okay, where's our story book.

Okay.

Once upon a time Jeremy thought he should find

himself a wife.

Problem was, Jeremy was a dung beetle.

Jeremy stank!

He met a fly, who said "My oh my,

you stink so bad it makes me cry."

He met a snail, who went all pale,

'cause that snail could not inhale.

He met a tick, who got sick quick,

and chased him with a 10-foot stick.

Poor dung beetle can't find a wife.

It's tearing my guts out.

How do you expect me to fall asleep?

Calm down.

Here comes the good part.

How he met Alice no one knows,

She's a butterfly to whom he did propose.

Alice thought Jeremy smelled like a rose,

'cause Alice had mucho boogers stuffed up her nose.

Feel better now?

[snoring]

I am good.

Later.

¶¶¶