All language subtitles for Freddys.Nightmares.S02E02.720p.WEBRip.x264-GalaxyTV

No, no, no!

Don't touch that dial.

Here's what's
on my mind tonight.

(male narrator)
Tabloid reporter on assignment.

Where am I going?

Little place called Springwood.

An editor on the warpath.

I expect a new story
faxed and on my desk

'first thing tomorrow morning.'

And an eminent deadline.

Wonder how far
that reporter's willing to go.

Faceless man murders
hotel guest.

Gloria Loring stars on
the next "Freddy's Nightmares."

[theme music]

[indistinct chatter]

(Freddy Krueger)
You're in Springwood now.

And you're all mine.

[screams]

[laughs]

[screams]

[laughing]

[indistinct chatter]

[typewriter keys clacking]

[creaking]

[knocking]

I just came to say goodbye

Okay.

Shoot.

Well..

- What?
- Say goodbye.

That's very funny, Dittano

Roger.
Call me Roger.

I mean, you don't mind
if I call you Ellen

now that I no longer
work for you?

Here, Ellen, have a jawbreaker.

[laughs]

No, thanks.

- Listen, Dittano.
- Roger.

Whatever.

Is there any way I can change
your mind about leaving?

[chuckles]
Not a chance.

Then I wanna get
one more story out of you.

Unh-unh. I'm out of here.
I am history.

I'm no longer writing this..

doo-doo.

'This time next week,
I'll be working'

for the "Chicago Tribune."

A real paper.

You're paid till the end
of the week. You're still mine.

[sighs]

Okay, Ellen, shoot.

What's the fairytale this time?

"World Inquirer"
reporter commits suicide.

[intense music]

Ah! You gotta be
out of your mind.

Circulation should double
with this picture on the cover.

(Roger)
'Help me.'

(Ellen)
Dittano,
no sleeping on my time.

Dittano!

I pay you to work, not to sleep.

Ah.
I don't want to sleep.

I have to sleep.

I do my best work
when I'm asleep.

Is that when you come up
with your bad grammar?

I had to fix it again
on the Bigfoot story.

Well, an editor's work
is never done.

Mm. "A real Bigfoot joined
Michael Jackson's menageri

after he saved his life."

Who saved whose life?

Michael saved Bigfoot,
of course.

Will you check
your pronouns next time?

Yeah. Yeah.

Uh, what is next time?

I believe going out of town.

Oh, great.
Where am I going?

[chuckles]
Little place called Springwood.

Oh, and what's in Springwood?

Elvis.

[laughs]
Presley?

Well, they have several
reportings of-of sightings

at a hotel there,
where he supposedly lives.

Yeah.

You leave in an hour.

Ugh!

At least can I fly
an airlines I recognize?

[eerie music]

"Man explodes.

"Aliens torture woman to death.

"Bigfoot.."

I love it. I love this paper!

Not afraid to lie.
No ethics.

Not afraid to
step over the line.

Wonder how far that
reporter's willing to go?

Maybe I'll, uh,
just give him a little test.

[laughing]

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Roger Dittano.
"World Inquirer."

Um, I had a call earlier about
a claim that, uh, Elvis Presley

was living in this hotel.

So?

Is he here?

No. Left this mornin'.

Said he was gonna do a concert
with John, uh, Lennon.

'He'll be back
in couple of days.'

After he does his concert?

That's right.

[sighs]
Of course.

Got a phone?

[sighs]
He's on tour with John Lennon.

- It's very funny, Dittano.
- 'I'm not trying to be funny.'

(Roger on phone)
'That's what the guy
behind the desk said.'

So I figured I'd-I'd still
try to make it to Chicago

for my interview
with "The Tribune."

Wrong. Get a room,
and wait till Elvis comes back.

And use the time to pull up
another story.

Well, I've got to get
to my interview by...

I expect a new story
faxed and on my desk

first thing tomorrow morning.

[sighs]

[instrumental music]

(female #1)
'Room service.'

Hi.

Here's your order, sir.

There's, uh, chocolate cake

cheesecake, cookies

and two pots of coffee.

Do you know you're pregnant?

- Oh, yes, sir.
- Oh, well, geez.

You shouldn't be carrying
a heavy tray. Here. Have a seat.

Uh..

If you don't mind
my asking, sir.

You gonna eat
all that by yourself?

(Roger)
'Oh, afraid so.'

I have trouble staying awake, uh

during a deadline, so
the caffeine and the sugar help.

[woman screams]

Yeah, I know, that's how

generally how I feel
after I eat this stuff.

No, I think the baby's comin'.

Oh, my God. Sit down.

Oh, ah, here. Let me get you
a nice, hot cup of coffee.

Oh, that's stupid.

Here, a glass of water.

Take it, drink.

Front desk? Yeah.

If you don't get a cab up here
in the next five minutes

this woman is gonna squeeze out
a brand-new person

right in the middle of room 23.

[woman gasping]

'I-I don't think your cabin
is prepared to deal with that.'

Right. Room 23.

You okay?

Is there anything
that I can do for you

while we wait for the cab?

Uh, pour some water?

Oh, uh, take in a breathe.

[breathing heavily]

You married?

No.

Well, it'd be mighty nice
if you ride with me

to the hospital.

Oh, do you want me
to call your husband?

No husband.

My boyfriend left town
the moment he found out about..

I'm sorry. That's too bad.

No, it's okay. It's my fault.

I don't know what possessed me
to go out with that skunk.

Possessed?

I gave birth
to the devil's baby.

That's page 1 material.

Can you fax that
to me by tonight?

Well, I got permission
to shoot the birth.

So, I-I'm gonna have
to bring the negatives back

so the guys in the lab
can add the horns and the tail.

Right. Alright, then I'll see
you after you meet with Elvis.

No, no. But-but
my interview in Chicago..

[sighs]

(male #1)
'Mr. Dittano, would you come
to delivery room, please?'

(nurse)
'Push, Mary.'

[groans]

Push, Mary.

[groans]

Push.

The head is almost out.

Something wrong, doc?

No. No, everything's okay.

What... what is it?

No, everything's just fine.

Mary, j-just push one more time.

We're almost finished.

[groans]

Uh, hey, doc, why don't
you hold the little guy up

so I can get a picture?

No, I would rather
not do that, Mr. Dittano.

May I ask why?

It wouldn't be a good idea.

Oh, please do it, Dr. Coppage.

I wanna have the picture.

[thunder crashing]

[rumbling]

Mr. Dittano. Mr. Dittano.

Oh, God.
Doc.

Oh, God, I'm sorry.

We've been looking for you

We had to go on
with the delivery.

Oh, damn!
I missed the launch.

Afraid so.

[sighs]
Well, uh, can I, can I
get a shot of the kid?

I'm sorry.
The baby was stillborn.

Oh, God.

The-the mom's okay?

Oh, she's fine.

Thank God she never got an
opportunity to see the child.

Why-why do you say that?

The baby had what we call
bilateral indurated masses

in the parietal region.

Not a pleasant sight.

- I'm sorry.
- Doc. Doc.

Give me that in English.

[sighs]

Mr. Dittano..

'...the child's skull
was malformed'

in a very grotesque way.

Looked almost like it had horns.

[intense music]

Would you cool it?
I'll come up with another story.

(Ellen on phone)
'I don't get it, Dittano.'

'Why doesn't the devil's baby
story work?'

Because the baby was stillborn.

But you said it really
had horns. Get some shots of it.

You are one sick puppy.

Oh, well, you're the one
who wants to work

for "Chicago Tribune", 'cause
you can report on real stories.

You've got a real story here,
Dittano.

What real story?
It's not the devil's baby.

And I'm not gonna write
the story saying it is.

Okay. Have it your way.

Uh, by the way,
I've got a letter here for you

from the "New York Times."

'Would you like me
to open it and read it?'

Of course I do.

Okay.

[paper rustling]

Let's see, "Dear, Mr. Dittano,
thank you for forwarding

"a sample of your writing to us.

'"We regret to inform you'

"however that you showed
an aptitude for punctuation

"and spelling that is far lower

"than is satisfactory
for the "New York Times."

We are therefore
forced to reject you."

'Should I go on?'

No.

If I were you, I'd make an
effort to keep the job I've got.

Come up with another story,
right?

That'd be a good start.

[sighs]

Hey.

[instrumental music]

Need somethin'?

Is Elvis here yet?

Nope. Not yet.

Of course not.

[sighs]

Anything else?

Not unless you've got
a good story.

Story?

'Yeah, I mean this old hotel has
gotta have some good stories?'

Anything weird ever happen here?

I mean, anybody ever get killed

or the walls ever talk?

'Anybody ever
spontaneously combust?'

Not that I can remember offhand,
but I'll think about it.

What are you waiting for, boy?

If you want any tip at all,
you'd best move that luggage.

(Roger)
'Well, I'm sorry
I'm not the bellboy'

'but I'd be happy
to take your tip.'

George Teller?

Who are you?

I'm Tom Gibson.

[gasps]
Oh... yeah, I remember.

- You own the local paper.
- That's right.

The local paper that took me
a whole lifetime to built.

Really?
A whole lifetime.

[chuckles]
That's funny.

Should take me
just one day to destroy it.

Replace you with
someone younger and hipper.

Oh, you..

heartless, good-for-nothing...

- Come on, Lou.
- You son of a bitch!

That paper's like
a family to me!

That-that was George Teller,
the newspaper tycoon.

There was that murder last year.

What?

Uh, there was a murder
in the hotel.

Oh, yeah?

Well, what happened?

- Man got killed.
- And?

- That's it.
- What do you mean, "That's it?"

There-there's got to be more.
I mean, do you know who did it?

No. Never caught the guy.

I saw him run out.

Oh, great, great.
Well-well, what'd he look like?

Never saw his face.

Couldn't see his face.

Didn't have a mask.

No.

Didn't have a face.

[chuckles]

[dramatic music]

"Faceless man
electrocutes hotel guest"

by Roger Dittano.

Old James Williams, the handyman
at the Springwood Hotel

was defaced a year ago
in a bizarre accident with a..

traveling chainsaw salesman.

horse is lost.

[man whistling]

[intense music]

[screaming]

Ah-h-h!

[crackling]

I'm telling you,
it is just too weird.

Everything I write comes true.

That's a very imaginative
excuse, Dittano.

It is not an excuse.

Alright, first the baby
with the horns

then I almost get
electrocuted in the bathtub.

[sighs]
I'm-I'm almost afraid
to write anything.

Very convenient, Rog.

Can't write in Springwood

so you might as well
come home, huh?

Just in time for your
next job interview, right?

No. No, I am gonna write
your story for you.

But it's gonna be a happy story.

That way, if it comes true

it'll be okay.

Happy stories don't sell papers.

I want grotesque, weird

violent,
your usual wonderful stuff.

I don't think I can do that.

'Well, then, perhaps you should
write a story about how you won'

the lottery, because
you're gonna need

the cash after I fire you.

Go ahead and hang up on me,
you witch.

I don't need your ten-dollar
a week job, anyway.

Besides, I never wanna
see your ugly face again!

I quit!

Hey.

What now?

Thought you'd like to know,
Elvis is dead.

Thank you for that newsflash.

Oh, and you've got a message.

From whom?

Uh, a fellow named Levine, uh,
from the "Chicago Tribune."

Oh. W-w-what'd he say?

[clicks tongue]
He said don't bother
about coming to Chicago

for an interview.
He read your stuff.

Damn!

Oh, yes, uh,
you got another message.

Oh.

Someone named Ellen called.

She said, since you don't want
to ever see her ugly face again

you're fired.

She heard me?
Oh, I thought she hung up.

'And she's not gonna pay
for the hotel bill.'

[sighs]

What about the hotel bill?

Don't-don't worry.
I'll-I'll take care of it.

I demand a new room.

Half of lights in my room won't
go on, and the TV doesn't work.

Hotel's full.
Got no more rooms.

You must find another room

Wish I did. But I don't.

Excuse me, Mr. Teller,
I-I couldn't help overhearing.

Um, I would be happy
to trade rooms with you.

Who are you?

Roger Dittano is my name.

I-I-I work for
a... a small paper.

Suppose you're
looking for a job.

Well, I-I'm entertaining offers
from several of the more

prominent papers, but I would
certainly consider, uh..

Forget it.

I don't hire slobs.

Well, this isn't slob,
this is young and hip.

Hey, watch it!

I have a black belt in-in..

several martial arts.

Have a nice day.

[mumbling]

Billionaire takes poison.

[clicks]

No.

Billionaire leaves
newspaper empire to reporter

after he takes poison.

[clicks]

[laughs]

Like that.

[knock on door]

Look, I wanna see Mr. Teller.

(George)
'Well, if it isn't the slob.'

Look, you got me all wrong,
Mr. Teller.

Oh, do I?

[sighs]
Alright, I might look
like a slob.

Hell, I might even be a slob.

But I am a young, hip,
smart... slob.

Just the kind you need to run
this paper you're taking over.

I know.

I mean, I've got five-years

experience in the newspa..

What did you say?

I said, I know
you're the man for the job.

One minute... down at the lobby,
you-you said..

I was just testing you.

I need a man who's a fighter.

A man who won't
take no for an answer.

[sighs]
Well, that's me.

I can see that.

You've got the job.

[sighs]
Thank you... sir.

Let's drink to it.
Lou!

[glasses clinking]

What's in that?

What's in it?

Well, let's see if it's the way
Lou usually makes it.

It's got, uh, vodka

peach schnapps, orange juice

and, uh, just a touch
of arsenic.

Arsenic in my drink?

That's not what I wrote.

[groaning]

[eerie music]

Oh, and I'd like to leave you

my newspaper empire.

[laughing]

[telephone rings]

Excuse me,
are you Dr. Coppage?

- Yes.
- I'm Ellen Kramer.

I was told to see you
about making arrangements

to bring Roger Dittano's body

and his effects back home?

Yes, his things
are right over there.

The police just brought them.

Please accept my condolences.

Uh, thanks.

Have you determined
the cause of death?

Yes.

It seems..

'...he choked
on one of these.'

[telephone ringing]

- Excuse me.
- Certainly.

[eerie music]

(Roger on recorder)
'Billionaire leaves
newspaper empire to reporter'

'after he takes poison.'

You never learnt your pronouns,
did you, Dittano?

Who took the poison?
Billionaire or reporter?

[telephone rings]

[siren blaring]

- Who is that?
- Elvis.

Is he dead?

Of course, everyone knows that.

Excuse me, uh, wait, wait.

Just a minute please.

Now, there's a good reason
to do your English homework.

Learn the use

of the proper pronoun..

or die!

[snickering]

[birds chirping]

[female announcing over PA]

I'm, uh, looking
for a Dr. Coppage.

I'm Dr. Coppage,
what can I do for you?

I'm Rachel Kelly,
this is my daughter Salley

We drove all the way
from Copperton.

As soon as we saw
this in the paper.

Oh, yes, our amnesia victim.

He's been here for three weeks.

- Do you know him?
- He's my husband.

Good, we were hoping
his family would surface.

How is he?

Well, considering
he was thrown from a car

after it went over a cliff

'he's in pretty good shape,
physically.'

- Can we see him?
- Of course.

Follow me.

[instrumental music]

[humming]

[tires screeching]

[intense music]

[groaning]

[crashing]

[screaming]

[explosion]

- Are you okay, sweetheart?
- Who are you?

Don't you recognize us, Jerry?

Is that my name? Jerry?

Hi, daddy.

Daddy?

This is your wife
and your daughter.

'Do they look
at all familiar?'

No.

[eerie music]

Me?

I cherish my memories.

Yes, playing with bodies
in the winter.

Torturing small animals
in the spring.

[laughing]

Scaring old ladies in the fall.

Oh, yes, I remember it well.

Too bad poor Jerry can't.

But don't worry.

What I'm gonna do to him

he'll never forget.

(Rachel)
'There, that's last Christmas.'

I gave you a new golf shirt.

No?

Wh-why aren't there
any here of me and Salley?

- Uh, well, uh...
- 'It's okay, honey.'

The bad things
are part of his memory too.

What? What is it?

I-i-it's no big deal.

It's just that,
you and I haven't

been getting along
so well lately.

Why not?

Oh, well..

it...you were
just being

a typically overprotective
daddy, that's all.

Salley's growing up.

She's driving, and dating.

And I'm afraid you didn't
handle it very well.

Here, look at some more,
they'll maybe help you remember.

- That's our house.
- Hmm.

And that's the den.

Right after you finished
painting it.

Took you two weeks.

You remember that, Jerry?

[instrumental music]

[intense music]

(Dr. Coppage)
'How's the photo session going?'

Huh?
I'm sorry?

Family pictures,
stirring any memories?

Oh, I'm not sure.

Well, don't worry,
it takes time.

Is there anything we can do
to speed up this process?

Well, the only other thing
you can do is to let him sleep.

The first memories to return
are usually in the subconscious.

- In dreams.
- Great.

When do I get to sleep?

You will, I'll prescribe
some sleeping pills.

[dramatic music]

It's time for your
midnight injection, Mr. Kelly.

It's okay, it's alright.

[breathes heavily]

There you are.

[whispering]
Goodnight.

[dramatic music]

[birds chirping]

So, Mr. Kelly?

How'd you sleep?

Not so good.

I have a question.

You said that my memories
might come back

in my dreams first, right?

Yes, that's right.

Alright, does that mean

that whatever I see in my dreams

are memories
that actually happened?

(Dr. Coppage)
'No, no not necessarily.'

Now, they could be memories
of a TV show

or a movie that you watched
just before your accident.

Just about anything.

(Rachel)
Why?

Did you remember
something last night?

Uhh, I've been having
several nightmares.

'Very disturbing ones.'

About what?

Just, uh, pieces of-of things.

It doesn't make any sense.

Hmm.

Well, I wouldn't worry.

They probably were
just nightmares.

Look around you, honey.

Look at the pictures
in this book.

You have a beautiful home

and you have a loving family.

You've got a past
anybody would cherish.

Yes, don't block it out,
Mr. Kelly.

Now, you've gotta do everything

in your power to regain
your memories.

Now, study these pictures.

And talk to your wife
and your daughter..

and sleep.

(Rachel)
'Wouldn't he make
more progress'

if we could take him home?

Where he could see
these things first hand?

[explosion]

Umm, I don't think that, uh,
we should drive home yet.

(Dr. Coppage)
'No, I don't either.'

It's not advisable for a person

with a serious head trauma
to travel long distances.

What about a hotel?

Wouldn't you be more comfortable
in a hotel room?

Can I do that?

[sighs]

Well, we could switch you
to outpatient status

as long as you promise
to stay in bed

once you get to the hotel.

Yeah.

It might help
your memory come back

if we could spend
more time together.

'As a family.'

[eerie music]

I-I, I really wouldn't mind
getting out of this hospital.

[birds chirping]

You have terrible
taste in clothes.

Lucky I have a good taste
in wives.

[instrumental music]

[moaning]

What, don't tell me
we weren't getting along either?

Oh, no, no, that's not it.

What then?

Can't a man kiss his wife?

His very sexy wife?

Sure he can.

But you never did.

Not like that, at least.

You haven't kissed me like that
since our honeymoon.

You kidding me?

No.

Well, that's about to change.

Hey..

The doctor said you're supposed
to get some rest.

You're supposed to stay in bed.

Well, that's where
I was headed, the bed.

[laughing]

Now, why don't you
get some sleep?

I'm gonna take a bath.

[instrumental music]

- Come in.
- Hi.

I was just wondering
how you're doing.

I'm fine. I'm studying.

Yeah, what subject?

- Calculus.
- Oh, boy.

Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I forgot,
we're not getting along.

It's okay.

[sighs]

No, Salley, i-it's not okay.

S-s-sit down, will you?

Salley, sometimes parents
do things that they shouldn't

just like kids.

Now, I don't pretend to remember

what it is I did to you

but it obviously upset you
very, very much.

I-I just want to say
that I'm sorry.

You think maybe we could just
forget about the whole thing?

I certainly have.

What do you say, huh?

Clean slate?
Fresh start?

Yeah, that's it.

Now, aren't you
supposed to be in bed?

Yeah, well, I'm too restless,
I can't sleep.

Isn't that why the doctor
gave you those sleeping pills?

Yeah, yeah, alright,
I'll go to sleep.

You go back to your Calculus.

I see, you've, uh,
got your old man's brains.

Yeah.

Goodnight.

Well, hello, there.

[Jerry chuckles]

Hi.

What are you doing here?

Well, I'm just looking
for my sleeping pills.

I thought you might
know where they are.

Oh. Pier on the dresser.

Well, thanks.

[instrumental music]

[music continues]

- Rachel, who's this?
- Huh!

Huh?

- Where'd you get that?
- In your purse.

I was looking for my pills
Answer the question.

Who's that man?

It's Frank.
He's your business partner.

Oh, yeah? How come he's so cozy
with you in this picture?

He's our best friend.

Look.

He introduced us,
for Christ sake.

I'm sorry.
I-I-I'm sorry...

I-I thought, I-I..

You still don't remember
anything, do you?

Just pieces.

Why don't you take
another sleeping pill

and go back to sleep?

[instrumental music]

My God, it's hard to believe
I can't remember you.

Sorry, partner.

[gasps]

- Honey.
- What, what is it?

I'm-I'm sorry, I couldn't wait,
I had to ask you.

- What?
- Where is he?

- Who?
- The man in the photo?

Frank, my partner, where is he?

Well, honey, Frank's dead.

- How did he die?
- He had a heart attack.

- Where?
- In our den.

- Why're you asking me all the..
- Where in the den did he die?

Well, it was by the fireplace.

Why, what is it?
Are you remembering something?

I dreamt it, all of it,
in every single detail.

That's great.

Now, there was one added thing.

What?

I did it, I killed him.

I hit him on the head
with a rock

and then I injected air
into his veins.

Don't be silly, Jerry.

I was there.

You told me that
he had a heart attack.

And he fell and hit his head.

And the coroner's
report confirmed that.

Why would every single detail
be right, except for one?

I don't know.

Maybe your memory's
still scrambled.

Can you remember anything else?

[exhales]

No.

Why don't you try
and go back to sleep?

Oh, God.

Maybe some more of it
will come to you if you do

[instrumental music]

[siren wailing]

[eerie music]

Sorry, partner.

[intense music]

[door opens]

[gasps]
Jerry!

He collapsed.

He died in my arms.

(Rachel)
Frank.

Frank.
Oh, God!

Frank.

You remember now, Jerry?

What's going on?
What are you doing?

Good thing
daddy invited you over so often.

We have a lot of good pictures
to jog your memory.

My husband
was a good man, Jerry.

Your husband?

Jesus.

I killed your husband.

See, Salley.

I told you he remembered.

Why'd you do it, Jerry?

Just didn't wanna
share the wealth

with your partner anymore?

Alright, okay.

So... what are you gonna do?

You gonna turn me in?

No way.

You'd probably just got to jail
for a few years.

How did you know that I did it?

Oh, I always knew.

I just didn't know how.

Until you told me.

'You injected air
into his veins.'

'It's a perfect crime.'

'And the authorities
are gonna think'

'that you died
of a heart attack too.'

'Just like Frank.'

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Wait, wait a minute.

I wonder what air
in the veins feels like.

- 'Wait, wait. Whoa, whoa.'
- 'You think it hurts?'

Why did you go to
all this trouble?

Why didn't you just kill me
when you had a chance?

Oh, Jerry.

Because revenge is only sweet

when the person you're punishing
knows what they did.

'It took you a while.'

But you finally remembered.

Talk to me, talk to me.
What-what-what-what do you want?

- What do you want?
- I don't want anything.

What do you..

What-what-what do you want?

Goodbye, Jerry.

Have fun in hell.

Wait a minute. Wait! Wait!
Wait! Whoa! Whoa!

'No! No! No, no, talk to me!
Wait, talk, no!'

Wait! Wait!

No!

Memories..

light the corner of my mind.

[laughing]

Medulla oblongata.

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