Original subtitles

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Now look. You promised.

No passing gas when we're on the air.

How many times do I have to tell you?!

You have to learn to control yourself!

We have a show to... [fart sound]

That wasn't me.

No it was me.

Shall we run the first Freaky Story.

This is a true story.

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

Marty.

He was this kid who drove my cab on the graveyard shift.

One time, near the end of his run,

he was tired and ready to call it a night,

when a kinda smallish weird-looking guy came out

of a Chinese restaurant and flagged him down.

Marty was 'off duty', but he figured he might as well

pick up this one last fare.

The guy got into the back and gave him an address on

the outskirts of town.

Not an actual street number, just an intersection.

An intersection, that time of night in a neighbourhood

that was a little scary.

It just didn't feel right.

And the guy, he didn't look right.

He was all pale and pasty looking,

like he'd never seen the sun.

Kinda ghost like.

Spooky.

Plus, he had a weird smell.

Something like peanut butter sandwiches.

Familiar.

But not exactly something Marty could identify.

"You meeting somebody there?"

Marty asked, just to fill the air with conversation

instead of fear.

"Not exactly some BODY," the little pale smelly man

replied.

"Not some BODY? Then what?"

Marty was scared to say it, but it came out anyway.

"Some THING???"

The little man laughed.

Only it wasn't a normal laugh.

It was more like a cackle...

an eerie, witchy cackle.

And as if Marty wasn't already frightened enough,

he glanced into the rear-view mirror and saw

that his weird passenger was waving around a stick with a

hook on the end.

And Marty remembered last year when that hook maniac

escaped from the loony bin.

Marty's mind went wild.

That hook was gonna end up in the back of his head,

he thought.

Get out, get out and run, that was one option.

The other was to concentrate on his driving.

The fog had gotten so thick, it was like driving through

a cotton ball.

Running through that didn't sound too good either.

So, he turned down the road where he was supposed to

drop the guy off.

And wouldn't you know it, the road was like a scene

from some zombie movie.

What with the fog and weeds overgrown on both sides.

Not to mention the smell, like a jungle or something.

Marty couldn't wait to get rid of his fare,

so he started driving faster than he should have been.

Then, WHOA!

Some huge thing jumped out of the fog.

Marty slammed on the breaks!

He missed whatever it was but went into a skid.

Off the road, slamming through the bushes,

coming to a stop in the ditch.

"This will be fine..."

said the little weirdo in the back.

He tossed Marty a twenty and hopped out.

Marty couldn't believe it.

He jumped out of the cab and saw the guy disappear into

the mist.

He turned to his poor cab and scratched his head.

Looks like he'd have to radio for a tow.

But the tumble into the ditch must knocked

out the radio.

He was stranded.

In the middle of nowhere while out there somewhere,

a weird little creature who looked like the living dead

was meeting some THING.

Suddenly the car shuddered!

Marty snapped his head around.

Behind him loomed a gigantic ink- black shadow.

Panicked, Marty tried the ignition...

but the key jangled out of his hands.

Then somehow, with some otherworldly power behind

it, the car surged onto the road.

For the first time, Marty saw the true enormity of...

the "thing".

It had to be some kind of monster.

What else could be that huge and that powerful...

and smell that bad.

Marty was sure he was about to be the "thing's" next meal.

He scrambled up, shaking, feeling some kind of hot

breath behind him.

His brain was saying, "Run, Marty, run."

But his feet were too scared to move.

Something tapped his shoulder.

Marty froze.

Did he dare to turn around and see the unimaginable?

Slowly, trembling...It was the little man,

his scary face lit up in a big smile.

"What's a matter?

Ain'tcha never seen an elephant before?"

Marty's heart stopped as a huge form emerged from the

ditch, trunk outstretched...

reaching for him...

then plopping four tickets into his hand,

"I parked him here this morning.

I had this urge for Chinese food and Princess didn't fit

in the restaurant."

Which even made Marty smile...a little.

"We open Thursday. And bring the kids!

'Cause everybody loves the Circus!"

And off the two of them went.

Two tons of circus elephant and her affable,

but somewhat peculiar trainer.

Hey. It was a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

Marty, who I don't see much, now that he'll only work

the day shift.

Hey, I got nothing to be ashamed of.

It's a natural body function.

And my body is a temple.

Yeah. Some temples have bells, some have gongs.

Larry's got Pppprrrppprrrppprrr!

This is a true story.

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

Pete.

He drives a big rig cross-country two,

three times a month.

Pete's one of the best wheel jockeys on the road.

One of the toughest too.

But like with all those macho guys

it's the woman who wears the pants in the family.

Trouble started when Pete's misses,

that'd be Marge, talked Pete into taking a vacation.

Ha!

Some vacation.

Ya know the old saying, once a truck driver,

always a truck driver.

Pete and Marge decided to go down south for a little R & R

and travel Pete's truck route.

So they hitched up their trailer

and hit the open road.

Now, the thing about Pete is he is a creature of habit.

After driving big rigs for all those years,

well he was used to sticking to a schedule.

He'd look at a map and figure that he'd be able to

make it from say, this truck stop to that truck stop

in exactly so many hours.

And being a creature of habit,

that's what he did -- he visited all his favorite

truck stops -- even when he was on vacation.

But on the third day out, the pace began to get to Pete.

He was getting kind of bleary-eyed

and he needed to rest.

Relaxing can take its toll on someone like Pete.

So, he said it was time to go home and suggested that

Marge take over the driving while he went 'round back

and got some shut eye.

Now, Marge had never towed anything bigger than a

shopping cart in her life, but Pete assured her there'd

be no problem -- everything on that baby

was in tip top shape.

Marge slid over into the driver's seat.

How hard would it be for her?

Pete spread the maps on the bench beside her and traced

out their route with a magic marker.

Then he pointed out the controls and the dials that

she'd need to keep her eyes on while driving the rig.

He was sure nervous about not being in control,

but what could he do?

The road was beginning to look like a wriggling snake.

So he dragged himself back to the trailer,

got out of his clothes and snuggled into the bunk,

wearing nothing but his birthday suit...

which is how macho guys sleep.

Fifteen minutes later, he was just about dozed off

when there was a lurch and the trailer screeched

to a stop.

Pete figured they'd only gone about ten miles.

The door swung open and there was Marge asking all

kinds of questions about the maps and Pete's directions.

After the questions were answered,

Pete settled back in for his snooze

and they started up again.

But after an hour, they stopped.

Real short.

Tumbled Pete right out of the sack.

The way Pete figured, they were at the crossroad of the

I-19 and the 105.

The door swung open.

He was right.

"Is it okay if the needle on the thingie is halfway

between the green and the red?"

Pete told her that it was.

Marge looked at him for a second.

"Why are you sitting on the floor like that?

That's what the bed's for."

Pete settled back into the bunk.

Marge drove for another hour and came to a stop.

According to Pete's calculations,

Marge had made it home, exactly on schedule.

Well, being dead tired and he thought in his own

driveway he could just streak into his house

without bothering to put on his clothes.

Problem was, while Pete was snoozing,

Marge got lost and pulled into a truck stop.

So while Pete was getting out of the trailer,

Marge was getting directions.

She got back in and drove off --

just after Pete stepped out.

So there he was naked. Totally buck Naked.

Ha, Ha, his wife and his trailer toodling off down

the road and he was the laughing stock of his

buddies.

The big galoots howled their heads off.

Ha, Ha...

Now this is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

Oh, oh, the other truck drivers did have another

laugh when one of them called the Highway Patrol

and told them to take Pete back to where he

came from...

The Sunnybuns Nudist Colony.

Ha, Ha...I love it...Ha, Ha!...

So are we done with...

you-know- what?

You're just jealous because I've got a talented

you-know-what.

[fart sound]

Yeah, well, how about this?

[farting Jingle Bells]

And so, the concert continues.

We'll be back after this next Freaky Story.

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine,

Stanley.

When he was a little kid, he went off to visit his Uncle

Elmo, a weird old coot who lived in the Florida

Everglades.

That's where Stanley found this little baby alligator,

with which he played a lot.

Stanley even said that Rocky,

the name he called this alligator,

would come when he called.

Which a person could believe.

But getting an alligator to fetch and roll over...

I don't know.

Well, when it came time for Stanley to go back home,

his poor little heart was broken in a million pieces.

He'd have to leave Rocky but Uncle Elmo put Rocky in a

box, poked some holes in it so Rocky could breathe

and mailed it back to Brooklyn, Air Mail,

Special Delivery.

But fate sent Rocky 'round the world...

or so it seemed.

Then, after two weeks, the package shows up.

So Stanley's mom opened the box.

Out popped Rocky.

He was starvin'.

Them jaws were snappin' at everything.

Rocky went for Mom's shoes...

could be they once were a relative.

[screams]

Rocky was lickin' his chops for a taste

of the family mutt.

[screams]

But Stanley's old man was kinda fond of the

family mutt.

So he grabs this broom, corners the baby gator and,

talk about bad timing, Stanley walks in just as his

old man flushes Rocky down the toilet.

"No!!" screams Stanley.

[screams]

But there went Rocky, gone in a swirl of blue water.

But this is not where the story ends.

No way.

You see, I met Stanley when he came to work with me.

Sewer maintenance was the gig.

Oh sure, Stanley heard rumours that there were all

kinds of creatures living in the New York sewer system.

I mean, there were legends of rats the size of

St. Bernards, leaches as long as a Louisville Slugger and

snakes that could eat the rats and leaches for an

appetizer.

And get this.

One rainy night, Stanley's down under,

workin' clog detail, when he heard this terrified scream

from down the tube.

He got about twenty yards and screeched to a halt.

There I was, sittin' in the muck,

my face white as a porcelain bowl.

Stanley helped me up and asked,

"What happened?"

So I told him that I was rakin' away when this

monster with about a hundred teeth leaps out of the water

and bites the rake clean in half.

And when Stanley picked up the rake and saw that was

for sure teeth marks, he starts to back away.

That's when he spotted two yellow,

slitty eyes bobbing just above the surface of the

water, sizing Stanley up.

At which point, Stanley hollered and started to run.

He turned to look.

There was this alligator that Stanley swears

was ten feet long.

And it was comin' after him.

Stanley ran fast as he could.

But the sewer bottom was slippery and there was lots

of slop to get tangled in.

The alligator was right there.

It lunged. Stanley ducked to the side.

The huge jaws were snarlin' and snappin'.

Stanley screamed, "No! Please! No!"

Suddenly the alligator stopped.

It looked at Stanley.

Stanley looked at it.

The gator's yellow eyes kinda glinted...

and so did Stanley's.

"Rocky?" he says, "is that you?"

It took a couple of seconds for that to sink into the

alligator's brain.

And he winked.

Was it a smile? Who knows.

Then the big gator just turned and swam away.

Now, that was a true story.

Happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

And Stanley, he went on to university.

Majoring in the study of reptiles, he is.

[long fart]

That may have been my personal best.

Well I got a better best for you.

[hissing sound]

What are you talking about? What better best.

[choking]

It took me years to perfect the Stealth Fart.

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

Mabel.

Quite a beauty back in her day.

It seems there was this boy, named Harold who was

obsessed with becoming a scout.

Not just any scout, but the best,

most helpful scout ever.

Except Harold's help usually came close to killing us.

Take the time Harold spotted sweet little Mabel,

dear-heart that she is, making her way down the

boulevard, carrying a small bunch of daisies she bought

to put a little sunshine into her life.

All of a sudden Harold swooped down like a hawk,

saying "Let me help you across the street."

And before Mabel can let out a peep,

Harold's leading her to the other side,

where he flashed his biggest best scout wanabee smile,

and hurried off to find another victim.

Problem was; sweet little old Mabel didn't

want to cross.

And trying to get back was like trying to cut across a

racecar speedway.

The cars whizzed by like rockets,

spinning Mabel around like a top.

Her daisies ended up on the windshield of a Buick so the

driver couldn't see and he slammed into Mr. Carletti's

fruit stand.

And then there was the time Harold showed up with a tray

of marshmallow bon bons.

Someone mentioned how Harold had finally turned out to be,

"Such a fine young man, indeed!"

And then they clamped their traps down on the soft and

oozing marshmallow delights, and discovered a mine field

of peanut brittle lurking under the delicious goo.

It shattered the few teeth some of them had left.

The "OUCHES" echoed through the hall like the

thunder of Hercules.

But, alas, to Harold's desensitized ears it sounded

like a chorus of Angels singing his praises.

But the straw that broke the camel's back came one

morning when the folk from the retirement home met in

the park for their weekly Tai Chi exercise class,

and their usual instructor, the gentle Mr. Lee

was home, with the flu.

And you-know-who...

yup, our Harold volunteered to take over.

Replaced the ancient Tai Chi sway-and-flo with

rock-n'-roll, blasting from a supersonic boom box,

and shouting, "SHAKE THE BOTTOM,

SHAKE THE TOP, SHAKE THEM BONES TILL THEY POP!"

And the poor frail creatures popped-until-they-dropped.

Mabel the daisy lady whispered to her friends,

"Let's not get mad, dearies....

let's get even!"

"Welcome to the Sunset Palms Retirement Home,

Old Mabel said to Harold who was looking oh so proud

and handsome in his best go-to-church duds.

"It was nice of you to invite me to lunch,"

said Harold, as he was seated at the head of the

long table, and served the first course,

which was at best described as 'warm slurp'.

Harold politely said, "It's good. Real good!"

"Glad you like it, Harold," added old Lucas,

"Because there's plenty more where that came from!"

And no sooner did Harold polish off one course than

another was served to him,

and another,

and another,

until finally the last of the warm slurp

had been slurped and Harold got up on his feet to say he

never ate such tasty food in his whole life,

adding, "I can hardly wait til I grow old myself,

so I can eat all the strained food I want!"

"STRAINED FOOD?!" they all shouted at once.

"That wasn't strained food!".

Mabel replied with glee.

"It was pre-chewed food!

Personally pre-chewed by us 'old- timers',

and served to our favorite scout, Harold!"

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

As for Harold, all he eats these days is HARD boiled

eggs, HARD salami and HARD candy.

Hey. Look at this, a letter for Maurice.

Dear Maurice, how did you get started

in show business?

Well, it all started... When I was a little bugger.

I told my first joke.

Why did the slug cross the road?

It didn't!

It got squooshed by an eighteen wheeler.

[laughing]

Then I met my first love...

Henrietta, who encouraged me to sing and dance and

squirt seltzer down my pants.

Ahhhhhhhh...

I love to get myself all fizzy.

One day... Forget it.

Where am I gonna find someone dumb enough to be a

cockroach's sidekick for free.

Sorry, I'm looking for a quarter I dropped

in the parking lot.

Whay are you looking here?

The light's better here.

I found him.

I owe it all to Larry.

Yeah well, even a genius can have a bad day.

See ya.

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