Original subtitles

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Are we on the air?

But...but, Larry's not here yet.

Uh..uh...welcome to Freaky Stories.

Tonight...

Hello.

How are you?

Who are you?

He's my hand...

I'm not talkin' to you. I'm talkin' to him.

Can he really be that dumb.

But then... Hey Maurice.

You know, this guy could be your replacement.

Huh!

Let's have a story, 'kay?

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine,

Norbert, the guy in the school cafeteria

nobody would sit next to.

I, mean, for one thing, Norbert ate with his mouth

open, which meant he sprayed you with lunch whenever he

laughed at one of his own stupid jokes.

But even worse, Norbert always wanted to trade

lunches with you.

What's wrong with that?

Well, Norbert's lunch was always weird stuff like

okra sprouts or tofu burgers.

So because of his gross food,

and even grosser eating habits,

Norbert sat alone at table 13 every single day.

Until the time Julie sat down beside him.

Now, Julie was new, so she didn't know better.

I mean she just saw an empty table and sat down.

You see, Julie was a science geek and as you know,

science geeks have no concept of social

do's and don'ts.

And Norbert was the biggest don't around.

Still Julie was incredibly smart,

so everybody knew she'd catch on.

Imagine our horror, when Norbert showed her a plateful

of ostrich stroganoff

and Julie traded him her dessert for it!.

Yummy Maggo Bars - some sort of candy

that Julie made at home.

Everybody was so surprised at what happened,

nobody noticed Julie wasn't actually eating

Norbert's lunch.

She took her own lunch out of her backpack and quietly

ate that instead.

The next day, it happened again.

Norbert had mentioned that he really liked Julie's

candy bars and Julie showed up with a whole bunch

more to trade.

She happily accepted his chicken fondue in exchange

for them ...but again she ate her own lunch.

Everybody figured Julie had the hots for ol' Norb,

and she was making the way to his heart,

through his stomach.

But check this out: One day Julie didn't arrive on time.

Now, a growing boy needs his food,

and Norbert was so hungry, he actually ate the lunch

that his mother had packed for him.

So when Julie finally showed up,

he had nothing to trade!

And Julie's dessert was Norbert's favorite.

So out of desperation, Norbert offered to trade his

empty carton of goat's milk and his slimy used paper

plate for it.

And can you believe it?

She agreed!

A grotty old paper plate and a milk carton,

crawling with Norbert's germs!

I mean, when Cupid's arrow hit her,

did it go right through her brain?

Well , Norbert was a few clowns short of a circus,

but even he knew a good thing when he saw it.

So, every day he ate his real lunch at recess,

and then traded whatever junk he could find for

Julie's lunch.

And I'm talking real crud here: Norbert gave her old

banana peels, used paper napkins,

even the janitor's floor sweepings from the

cafeteria.

And Julie would take this stuff,

smile and giggle, and give Norbert more of those

amazing Maggo Bars.

Love sure is strange.

Now you'd think that out of appreciation Norbert would

take some time out to talk to Julie,

or at least thank her.

But Norbert was so busy stuffing his face that he

barely said two words to her.

And even then he spritzed her with his food.

But Julie didn't seem to mind.

She would just smile and giggle,

and keep working on her secret project for the

school science fair.

All she would say when Norbert asked about it was,

"You'll see... you'll see...".

And when the day of the science fair came,

boy did he see.

It was held right after lunch period,

in the cafeteria.

The janitor was trying to clean things up before the

fair started, and Norbert just wouldn't move from his

table until he finished eating his Maggo Bars.

That is, until he saw her science project.

"Thanks for being my guinea pig, she grinned.

And as she raised the curtain on her invention,

Norbert nearly choked on his Maggo Bar...

because he saw that Julie's machine recycled the maggots

- from his garbage - into CANDY BARS!!!

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine,

Norbert.

Norbert and Julie eventually got married.

Only now, Norbert does all the cooking.

Oh, man... I loved this job.

And now they're gonna replace me...boo hoo.

heh-heh-heh...

This is a true story.

Happened to a friend of a friend of mine

in the next cell, Slippery Sam.

Sam had been robbin' banks for 20 years and never

got caught.

Other thieves were in awe of his track record and asked,

"Sam, what's yer secret?"

Sam would smugly reply, "I'm smarter than the law,

see, I ain't never ever goin' to jail."

But like they say.

"Never ever say never."

You see, Sam made three mistakes.

His first mistake was getting too confident.

All by his lonesome he decided to take on the

largest bank in the city.

This was a bank with all the latest high-tech

surveillance equipment.

Every bell and whistle you can think of.

Sam had a friend who worked for the bank and made a deal

with him to split the loot if he cut the

surveillance wires.

Mistake number two -- never trust no one,

especially a guy they call "chicken".

Yeah, that's right.

Instead of cutting the wires,

Chicken high tailed it out of town.

So Sam walked into the bank and made like he had a gun

and said, "Your money or your lives, see."

Everyone was in a state of panic.

Two bank tellers started to hand over the money

in the vault.

But one of the tellers said to Sam,

"You are not going to get away with this."

Sam laughed.

"Oh yeah," he said.

"like who's gonna stop me, see?"

the teller said, "Our cameras will,

and pointed to the surveillance camera.

Sam said, "Your cameras are no good.

They're dead. See...dead. Yeah."

Sam even danced in front of the cameras,

which as we know now, were very much alive.

So there was Sam for all to see.

Which the cops did.

They found him easy enough, which is REAL easy

when you brag.

The officers cuffed him and said,

"This is the end of Slippery Sam".

Sam was shocked.

Court day came and wouldn't ya know,

Sam had the toughest judge in the county,

Hanging Harry Heartless.

The judge slammed his gavel and said,

"This will be the end of Slippery Sam.

I'll never see your face in my court again!"

He sentenced Sam to 20 years in prison.

But even that did not discourage Sam.

He was not about to waste away in a jail cell for the

next 20 years.

You see, Slippery Sam had a plan.

Every night when the lights went out in the jail and the

guards and the prisoners were sleeping,

Sam used pilfered kitchen utensils to slowly but

surely dig himself a tunnel.

During the day he was a model prisoner.

The guards loved him.

The other prisoners played checkers with him and he

never even cheated.

But the cook in the cafeteria found it very

strange that before every meal,

he asked for additional spoons,

knives and forks.

But Sam claimed, "They don't call me Slippery

for nothin' see."

He said his silverware slipped out of his hand.

Still the stone in his prison cell was so thick and

hard it took years and years to make a dent in it.

But Slippery was not about to give up.

He dug spoonful by spoonful, forkful by forkful.

And even though it ain't easy to eat your peas with

your knife, Sam picked out pebbles and dirt with his.

Day after day, week after week,

month after month.

Oh yeah, and year after year after year,

nineteen years and eleven months to be exact.

So with a month to go on his sentence,

why would Sam keep digging?

Mistake number three -- never try to prove you're

smarter than the law.

But his pride was stronger than his common sense.

With his broken-down spoon, he wedged loose the last

stone keeping him from his freedom.

The stone came loose and he struggled to push it aside.

He saw a beam of light comin' through.

He knew this was his ticket to freedom.

He said to himself, "Slippery Sam..you have not

lost your touch. Yeah. Yeah".

He could not believe his eyes.

Standing before him were four police officers and

Judge Hanging Harry Heartless,

the judge who put him away.

That's right, he had dug himself into the judge's

courtroom.

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine,

in the next cell, Slippery Sam,

who has just taken up knitting.

I wonder how long it'll take him to knit a rope long

enough to get out of this joint.

Good evening Ladies and gentlemen.

Here's our next Freaky Story...

Ha.

This is a true story.

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

We called him 'Furd'.

Yeah, quite the moniker.

You see, his real name was Fred,

but for some reason, everyone called him Furd.

Anyway, Furd was my boss, manager of aircraft

maintenance over at the International Airport

where I worked.

Now we didn't handle the engines or avionics stuff

aboard the big jets. No.

Our company did the service maintenance,

cleaned out the toilets, dumped the waste -

that sort of thing.

Now, Furd's angle was that he was always trying to cut

expenses and pocket the savings for himself.

And I have to admit, he was 'aces' at it.

He'd built himself a veritable palace,

out by the airport.

Y'see, what Furd did, was cut corners.

Fer-instance, when we went to refill the liquid soap,

Furd told us to fill 'er up only half-way.

but then he'd turn around and bill the airline for a

full container - and pocket the half-bottle of soap

savings for himself.

Now, the cost of one bottle of soap may not

sound like much to you, but multiply that,

by a hundred and fifty airplane toilets a day,

three hundred and sixty-five days-a-year,

and it starts to add up.

He He. Ya get the picture?

Or when we'd dump out an airplane's waste-tank,

Furd told us to pump out only half.

He figured he'd let the poor sucker at the other airport

take care of the rest for the return trip.

Pretty cool thinking, but Furd wasn't making too many

friends at the other airports.

So anyhow, one day Furd hears that there's a new

VP of Operations, been hired for one of his airline clients.

Now Furd figures that the best way to grease this

guy's wheel is to throw him a fancy party.

Sort-of a 'welcome'. Yeah, sort-a.

And Furd, being Furd, he does it on the cheap.

First of all, instead of getting it catered,

he snagged a load of airline food.

Not the kind of food that you or I would eat,

if we were to take a trip somewhere.

But the good stuff - from the First-Class compartment.

And instead of hiring waiters and waitresses,

he shanghaied a flight crew of stewardesses.

Seems he made some kinda threat about not filling the

drinking-water tanks before a Trans-Pacific flight.

Whatever it was, it sure worked.

He had the whole crew in his backyard,

serving hors d'oeuvres.

So the big day arrives.

Furd and his guests were milling around his pool.

The airline-food had been scraped out of its trays and

arranged neatly on platters in a serve-yourself buffet.

Those airline poobahs were having a great time.

And I have to admit, the coolest thing was,

that Furd's house was located right at the end of

the Airport's runway - so that every plane as it

landed, swooped right down low over his house.

So Furd's talking up that new VP of Operations,

when the VP looks at an incoming jet.

He says, "That's one of ours."

"Well, whatdayaknow?" says Furd. "So it is."

But what Furd and he new VP of Operations didn't know

was that this particular Jumbo-Jet was coming in on a

return trip from Paris, France.

And furthermore, that the Manager of Aircraft

Maintenance at the airport in Paris, France,

was none too happy with Furd's habit of sending

half- full tanks of waste to him,

and was now playing a little trick of his own...

You see, the waste tanks of this Jumbo Jet were full

to the point of bursting.

And wouldn't you know it?

That's what they did.

Bombs away - sixteen hundred pounds of putrid waste -

right into Furd's swimming pool.

Just as the new VP of Operations was demonstrating

his diving technique to a pretty little stewardess...

Hey. It's a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

Oh, and Furd?

Ah, no. He doesn't work at the airport anymore.

He's gone into the fertilizer business.

Oh, he's dead.

Huh! He's dead?

Ha. He's dead!

He's dead! He's dead!

He's dead! He's...

May I have the next dance?

Anybody care for a slightly used sidekick?

Oohhh.

[LAUGHING]

Why are you laughing? You're next.

Huh?

Here's the next Freaky Story.

Why, you!

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

Ever live in a Frat House?

I don't mean one of those yuppie ones you see on TV

sometimes, where all the guys dress in loafers and

call each other Biff.

I mean a real frat house with vermin infested laundry

heaped next to stacks of pizza boxes.

Last Years' New Year's Eve decorations

rotting off the ceiling.

And some excuse for a house mate affectionately

referred to as the Mooch.

But at Delta Delta Pylon, we just called him Lester.

Well into his 5th year majoring in Primitive Basket Arts,

Lester survived by stealing the last slice of pizza here,

pilfering a couple of clean socks there

and using whatever shampoo, shaving cream and deodorant

some other frat brother was fool enough to leave

unguarded.

We even wondered if he owned his own toothbrush.

But soon after Christmas one year,

when Lester had already thieved,

pinched and scoffed every shortbread cookie,

mincemeat tart and dried-up old fruit cake care package

he could find, the cupboards suddenly went bare.

You see, most of the Deltas took to sleeping with their

food supplies, which made midnight snacking a bit of a

trick for Lester.

Even his ability to belch Einstein's Theory of

Relativity failed to convince the others he was

worth tossing a stale donut to.

Lester might've been okay.

He might have restrained himself.

But then he heard this sound coming from way down

in the kitchen.

Someone was sifting through the pots and pans,

rummaging through the cupboards,

making the electric can opener moan and wheeze

and grind...he knew instantly.

The drooling of his mouth and the twitching of his

nose told Lester that Roger was making his famous tuna,

wiener and leftovers casserole.

It was never exactly the same twice,

but always sure to please...him.

Late that night, Lester snuck downstairs,

deftly stepping over Bud in the front hall who hadn't

quite made it up to his bed after a night of revelry,

and slipped into the pitch black of the kitchen.

The refrigerator hadn't had a working light bulb since

Fred the Freshman ate the last one as a hazing ritual

but this didn't deter Lester.

No.

He knew the insides of that treasure chest of pilferable

plunder like the back of his thieving hand.

He identified the jumbo mustard in an instant,

shoved it aside to seize the yogurt container behind and

sat right down on the cold, hard linoleum to enjoy

his filched feast.

The tuna was a little mushier than usual,

the weenies a little bit on the gamey side and there

were the odd crunchy bits Lester assumed were

over-microwaved meatball crust.

But delicious none the less.

In moments Lester had gobbled the last of his

lifted midnight snack and was back in his bed so fast

the albacore aftertaste had yet to fade.

Happy. Content.

If only he had known.

Hours later, all seemed fine.

Loitering 'round the kitchen next morning in the hopes of

abandoned breakfast scraps, Lester's fellow frats went

about their business and didn't suspect a thing.

Even Roger had rummaged through the near empty

refrigerator for nearly five minutes in search of a

banana he put there last spring and never noticed his

missing tuna a la king.

Lester was sure his crime would go undetected when

suddenly Irving the pre-med hauled himself into the

kitchen, stuck his head in the fridge and started to

scream....Where was his lab container?

Where were his rat's heads?

Those meal worms had been cleaning the brains out of

those skulls for days and they were almost done!

But it was only when Lester spotted Roger's leftovers

container sticking out of his knapsack that it really

sunk in what he'd done.

He'd made a meal of mealworms,

he'd crunched on rat craniums,

he'd noshed on rodent nuggets.

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

Lester still lives at the frat, of course.

But now he majors in macrobiotics with a minor

in long term fasting.

The rumor in the cockroach community...

You have a community?

Yeah, and guess who the mayor is.

Wise guy. Ahem.

It is said that you do an amazing magic trick.

Well, I guess you can't keep talent like mine a secret.

Oh yeah, well let's see this big trick of yours.

Okay. Bring it on boys

Check this out, Maurice. Okay.

Abracadabra and oiveyismere, spirit of magic

make the bag disappear.

Ah..what do you think about that?

Ah, big deal.

Anybody could do that trick.

Anybody. Even me.

Oh yeah. I'd like to see ya try?

Okay. Get behind the curtain.

Allright, I'll do that.

Okay. All set.

Abracadabra and...

uh, whatever you said, spirit of magic make

Larry disappear.

See ya next time.

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