Original subtitles

My philosophy of life is dead straight:

whatever doesn't Kill you makes you stronger.

If I didn't believe that

I would've passed the dice a long time ago.

And after some of the numbers I've played,

I must be a born again crap shooter.

I'm in pretty good shape for a guy who drinks too much

and smokes a couple of packs a day,

and I'm still a smooth stick man,

even if my wife is usually in the driver's seat.

But at my age, that's okay by me.

I'm a writer.

Detective fiction is my line.

You've probably spun a few dime store pulp racks

with my name buried away in the back. Richard Foster.

For a long time, that moniker barely paid the rent.

Then one day, my hero, Johnny Magnum,

clicked with John Q. Public

and I had a bestseller on my hands,

even an offer from Hollywoodland.

But I don't want to tell you about my financial success.

What's money, anyway, except paper with germs on it?

I want to tell you about something else,

something that still haunts me like a nightmare.

Something so bizarre and bloodcurdling,

you'd want to pretend that it never really happened.

It began in the autumn of 1966.

I was a million miles from that place,

but the fate set in motion that morning was headed straight

on a collision course with me.

It was the home of Victor and Pearl Tusk,

a pair of factory sealed suburbanites.

They led a regular sort of life,

with lots of polyester and very little sex.

They had two daughters,

and Sarah, who was 10.

Victor was the kind of guy you'd call an endangered species.

All heart, but no chest cavity to put it in.

Pearl was a two-fisted housewife and a devoted mother.

On the morning of their 11th anniversary,

they thought they had a pretty good life.

- Pearl.

Pearl.

Sweetheart.

Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.

It's Saturday.

You get to spend the whole day with the man you love.

Do I deserve such joy?

- Oh, come on, dear,

don't you know what day this is?

- This is my day to sleep in.

Ugh. My God...

is it really 11 years already?

- Not a day less, dear.

- Happy anniversary, dear.

- That's my girl.

Happy anniversary, darling.

I couldn't have had 11 happier years

if I planned them myself.

- The best laid plans, Victor...

Promise me something.

Promise me we'll have 50 more.

No, a hundred.

- I can hardly wait.

- Come in.

- Happy anniversary, Mommy and Daddy.

I made this just for you. - Oh.

- Oh. - Oh.

- Look at this.

- Isn't that nice. - Thank you, sweetie.

Hope you like it.

- Pancakes, that's nice.

Ooh, hot coffee.

Mm. - Mm, yummy.

- Read the card I made you.

- To my mommy and daddy.

I love you more than God, your loving daughter.

Aw.

- Aw, that's beautiful, sweetie.

Thank you.

Better eat your pancakes before they get cold.

- Mmm mmm.

Mmm!

Good.

- After breakfast, we'll all go up to grandma's

and get your sister, okay?

Aw, do we have to?

- Now, sweetie, it's a very special day

and we want everyone from the family, everyone 10 be there.

So you have to come, okay?

- Okay. - Okay.

- Daddy. - Mm-hmm.

- When you die and go see God,

will you come back and tell me what he looks like?

- Sure, I will.

Promise me?

- Mm-hmm. - Yes, we promise, dear.

- So pumpkin, you come on up and snuggle up by dear old dad,

and tell me what you want to do today.

What is it?

I'm gonna kill you and mommy.

Yeah.

Yeah.

- Well, what does he look like?

Can he see me?

Little Sarah Tusk became ward of the state

and spent the next 15 years

in a big, sprawling place by the lake.

She had a room with a view and the full treatment.

To call the Lakeview Asylum a snake pit

was like giving it five stars in the Michelin guide.

Sarah was now 25 years-old

and like most little girls of 25,

she was ready to leave home.

Her sister Victoria was now her legal guardian

and the only one authorized to sign Sarah's release papers.

But Victoria had some plans of her own.

- No, I won't do it.

I don't care about medical conclusions, Doctor.

- Vicky, try to be disinterested just for a while, okay?

Forget we're discussing your sister.

Try to remember that a human mind is just as susceptible

to a disease as is the body.

You can't punish someone for having a common cold, can you?

You're not making this very easy for me, you Know?

You want one?

- No, thank you.

Well, I'm listening.

- Well, then, the courts ruled more than once

that your sister committed murder

under the influence of a highly diseased mind.

That's why she was sent here, Vicky, not to prison.

Here, to be cured.

Not to be punished.

People are released from Lakeview

when they're healthy again.

- My sister's not healthy again, Doctor.

- I didn't say she was completely cured.

I said she was well on the road to recovery.

She'll be ready for release within two years tops.

- Dr. Hippocampus, I want you to understand something.

I hate my sister.

I know you've tried to help me overcome it,

but it's impossible.

I know she can't be put in prison for killing my parents,

but I can see to it

that she never gets outside these walls.

I want her to die here.

I want her to rot here.

I'm never going to sign those release papers, Doctor.

- There's something you should know, in that case.

Lakeview is practically medieval by today's standards.

Oh, it's due to be closed in a year's time.

If you persist in keeping Sarah a prisoner of her own mind,

then she'll have to be transferred to another facility.

A much more expensive one.

- Money is no concern.

I'll spend my last dime if I have to.

- Just remember this:

Sarah's not the only one who'll suffer.

- Thanks for the pep talk, Doc.

I always did enjoy a good bedside manner.

So if the asylum is to be closed,

I won't have to deal with you again.

Correct?

- Victoria, you won't have to deal with me again.

Correct.

- Good.

I like happy endings.

- But you'll still have to deal with your sister again.

- Goodbye...Doctor.

I didn't know her then,

who she was or what made her tick,

but in some strange way,

Victoria had already brought me closer to Lakeview.

A few years later, she came to work for me as a cook,

and it was my wife, Diane,

who first noticed something odd about Victoria.

Nothing you could put your finger on,

but the sickly sense that death

tracked this girl like a bloodhound.

When she left the asylum that day,

Victoria never intended to see Sarah again,

but the past has a way of reaching out

to settle all bad debts.

- I'm leaving now.

For Christ's sake, wake up.

- Oh, God.

Shit.

Come back to bed, mama.

- It's late and besides,

your session is over with for tonight

and I do charge a stiff overtime.

- Oh, mama.

How am I progressing?

- Noticeably.

Perhaps next week, we can actually try to get it up.

- Aren't you gotta kiss me goodbye?

- No, don't give into your transference.

It's a meaningless love.

- Please.

- That'll be another $10.

Ah, what are you doing?

You're hurting me. - Mama, sorry.

- You bastard, let me go!

- Please, please, mama.

- You're insane!

You're crazy!

- Yes, yes.

- Let me go!

- Please, oh.

- Hurting me!

- Christ almighty.

Hippocampus.

- Doctor. - You stupid son of a bitch!

Calling.

- What do you want?

I just got a call from Dr. Visinichaff.

- He's handling all my patients.

What does he want me for?

It's my day off.

Well, he said one of them has escaped.

- What the hell do you mean escaped?

That's what he said.

She got out.

I think the police are over there now.

- What happened?

She attacked her matron and killed her.

The poor woman's throat was torn out.

- Oh my God.

What do you mean she attacked?

Yes.

They said it was Sarah Tusk.

- Phone him back.

Tell him I'll be over.

Hello, Dr. Hippocampus.

I've come for my last appointment.

Now, Waldo!

- Oh, it's one.

I hate you.

I hate you, too.

Now shut up and let me get some sleep.

- Oh, my head feels like it's got menstrual cramps.

Do you have to be so disgusting

first thing in the morning?

- Why in God's name

do you and my father always have to drink so much

every time we go over there?

Nobody said you had to try

and keep up with us boozing.

- So it's -- wait a minute.

Today's something.

What's today?

Saturday.

- Something else.

Something special.

Anniversary.

Happy anniversary.

- Besides that.

- I don't know and I don't care.

It's one o'clock and I just want to sleep until two.

- Oh, wait a minute. I remember.

You have a lunch date with a Hollywood producer

who wants to buy your book. At noon.

Rick, for fuck's sake,

Rick, what the hell's the matter with you?

Why do you keep acting like a goddamn child?

- Yes, Nigel, uh-huh. - He's a busy man.

- Sure. - How dare you keep

him waiting this long?

I mean -- - So he is a busy man.

Well, I'm busy, too.

Well, you're fucking irresponsible.

- Okay, Nigel, so I was irresponsible.

Don't you know what this man could do for you?

You have a meeting.

Instead, you get fucking pissed out of your skull again.

- Look, Nigel, it was a wedding anniversary.

My in-laws were having a party.

What am I gonna do,

pass it up? - I don't give --

- Come on. - a shit if it

was your own funeral!

I got a Hollywood producer about to walk --

- Yeah, okay, Nigel. - You really screwed up --

- Sure. - This time.

- Look, you're my agent, right?

You're getting 10% outta me.

- Yeah, right. - Fix it up.

Do something about it. - Tell him.

The meeting's in my office at three.

- Yeah, sure, Nigel. Uh-huh. - And you better fucking

be there. If you're not -- - Okay, Nigel.

All right. - Then I suggest you find --

- Okay, fuck you, too, Nigel.

- If you're not there -- - Goodbye.

- What an asshole.

- Nice talk.

Want some?

- Nah, I couldn't eat 'til next summer.

- Or at least until the dinner party tonight.

- Shit, what are we having a dinner party for?

We have hardly moved in.

It's our anniversary.

Shouldn't they be taking us out to dinner?

- Well, that's the usual custom, but you hate going out, so.

- So don't be so smug, okay?

So what did -- what did you get me?

- Nevermind.

- Not even a hint?

- No.

You gonna write today?

- No, Nigel scheduled the meeting for 3:30,

so I'll meet with this Hollywood asshole.

Maybe I'll tell him to take a flying fuck at Rodeo Drive.

- That's Ro-DAY-oh Drive, dear.

- Rodeo, rodeo, whatever.

- Besides, you've always said

your first bestseller should be made into a movie.

Well, now you finally have your first bestseller

and they're offering you a movie.

- A 3D movie.

I mean, I don't want my name read

by people wearing funny fucking cellophane glasses,

cheapens the whole thing.

- Dear, I would hardly call Detective Pulp

writing for the new elite.

- Pulp.

- Besides, they just see your book

a little differently than you do.

- Why do you always have to be so supportive?

Why don't you take a shot at me sometime?

I'm gonna go take a shower.

- Okay.

Don't forget to shave. - Yeah.

- You look like hell.

- Okay, babe, I'm splitting.

You seen my keys?

- Uh, no. No, I haven't.

Did you check upstairs In the chest of drawers?

- Yeah, I did. - Weren't there?

- Can't find anything in this fucking place.

Ah, here they are.

So anything you want me to get?

- We need a bottle of wine.

We don't need any more scotch.

- But babe, our friends like to drink.

What if we run out?

- Three bottles for six guests?

- I guess you got a point.

Oh, have you heard from Victoria?

Yeah, she said she's gonna have a bath

and then be right over.

- Yeah, what's she making for dinner?

Steak tartare.

Steak tartare?

What the hell is that?

- Raw meat.

Isn't that great?

- Just a minute.

Hi, I was in the tub.

Is that you, Mrs. Foster?

Hello?

Today is the day, Vicky.

- Who is this, please?

I got out.

We're going to be together forever.

- Okay, Victoria, I'm off.

- Mrs. Foster, there's something I'd like to ask you.

- Shoot.

- Well, there's been a problem, a family problem,

and I have to go back home tonight.

So I'd like to leave after I serve dinner,

if that's okay with you.

- Sure it is.

Is there anything I can do?

Actually, yes.

Could I have my pay before I leave?

- Ask me something hard.

I'll go get it now so I don't forget later.

- Okay.

Thank you, Mrs. Foster.

It means a lot to me.

- Ah, it's the least I can do.

Here it is.

I'll be back in about an hour.

- Thanks.

Foster residence, hello?

Hello, who's there?

I'm here.

- Sarah?

- I hear you still like cooking for people.

Does it pay enough to support a crazy sister?

- What do you want?

I wanna see you, talk about old times.

You know, girlish things.

- I have nothing to say to you.

Oh, but you do, big sister.

We have a lot to discuss.

Sarah must have really

had the hooks into Victoria. She was scared.

I don't know exactly what she had cooked up,

but people do funny things

when they're walking the edge of a razor.

The way I figure it, loading up on extra jack

means pulling out of town in a hurry.

Victoria was leaving town, all right,

but not the way she planned on it.

- Hello?

I don't like being cut off when I'm talking.

- Look, I told you, there's no reason to see each other.

What's the matter?

Are you scared?

- If you keep calling me, I'm going to go to the police.

I've already been punished for what happened.

They can't touch me.

Look, I'll tell you what, if you don't wanna come to me,

then I'll come to you, okay?

Be right over.

- No, wait.

Sarah.

Sarah?

Yes.

- I'll come to you.

Good.

In say...an hour?

- That's fine.

Where?

The Lakeview Asylum.

I'm sure you can remember where that is.

See you real soon.

- Sarah!

Where are you, Sarah?

Sarah.

Victoria.

- Is that you, Sarah?

Vicky.

Victoria.

- Sarah?

Victoria.

- Victoria, Victoria.

Get you.

- Stop, please!

Why are you doing this?

Can't get away.

We will get you.

Down here.

Victoria.

Not in there!

Help!

Here!

Help, I'm scared!

Victoria.

- Hello, Vicky.

- Sarah.

- So nice to see you again.

You're out of breath.

Why don't you sit down?

Let me look at you after all this time.

So what do you think of how I've kept the place?

- It's awful.

- Yes, it is, isn't it?

I didn't like being locked up here for so long.

You may think it looks bad in this condition,

but this is the way I've always seen it.

A rotting place, a dead place.

After all this time,

we've not once talked about our parents.

Tell me, do you miss them?

- Sarah, if this is some form of revenge, you have to stop.

Don't you see? There's no place for you.

I'm the only support you have.

You still need help.

- I know something you know, I still have some memories.

There's one that isn't very nice.

Do you know which one that is?

One that you thought could be locked away

in this place forever!

I had to kill a matron to get out.

I had to bite out her neck

because they wouldn't give me any sharp objects.

You may think that's crude.

I wasn't as subtle as you were.

I couldn't get my hands on any rat poison like you did.

Oh, well, what does it matter now?

You thought you could get rid of me in this place,

but instead, you simply turned me into you.

Isn't that great?

Vicky?

Vicky, isn't that great?

Vicky?

Isn't that great?

Isn't that great?

Vicky?

Vicky?

Isn't that great?

Vicky.

Is that you, Victoria?

- Yes, Mrs. Foster.

Good.

I'd hate my husband to catch me with the delivery boy.

- Look out, bitch, here I come.

So what's going on up here?

- Hi.

Hi, babe.

- How'd it go?

- Not so bad.

I think we're onto something good here.

Oh, good.

- So what's happening?

How come I don't smell any home cooking?

- I don't know.

Before I went out, Victoria told me

she had some kind of family problem

and she wanted to leave early.

She was gone when I got back.

- That's too bad.

We got people coming over for dinner.

We got Dekker Wilson.

You know how that son of a bitch likes to drink.

- Oh, yeah. - He's murder

on an empty stomach.

- Well, you're not bad in the kitchen.

- Yeah, but I'm a lot better in bed.

Doesn't mean I'm gonna fuck Dekker Wilson

just so he can have a good time.

Besides, we need some proper cooking.

Not this steak tartare shit.

- Oh, don't be such a pig.

Besides, it's still early.

She'll be here soon.

- Hey, babe, what's this doing in here?

I thought you went to the bank yesterday.

- No time.

- No time?

That's not good enough, honey.

We can't have this loose jack laying around.

- Oh, God.

You're beginning to sound

like one of your bloody detective novels.

- Yeah, well, don't knock it, it's a good living.

- Yeah, yeah.

- So who gets the shower first?

- Well, who do you think?

I've been working up a sweat

and I can see you've got a ways to go.

- Oh, yeah? - Yeah.

- Do you wanna pump for this?

Come and get it, hot shot.

You ready?

Go.

- Hard work, huh?

- Pick up the pace, boy.

- Yeah, you gonna stay with me?

- Come on. - I don't know.

You're a strong girl. - You bet your ass, boy.

- Diane and I were just about to go the distance

when destiny reared its ugly head

to signal the end of the round.

I didn't know it at the time, but when I came to the door,

I was already in trouble.

This was the first time I had laid eyes on Sarah Tusk

and when she spoke her name, the air chilled around her.

She told me Victoria was tied up with a family problem

and had sent her over to take care of our dinner.

I smelled something strange and at first said no thanks.

But then my stomach put in its two cents' worth.

Trouble was, I'd gotten used to eating once in a while,

and if this Sarah dame cooked anything like our sister,

then our problems would be solved.

It is getting a little late

and I really don't want to choke my way

through another one of my half cooked meals.

Oh, you won't be sorry, Mr. Foster.

After all, this is your anniversary

and us Tusks sure know how to celebrate those.

- That's good.

Come on in.

I had my chance,

but fate laughed at me as I let it slip through my fingers.

This girl had a scent about her, all right,

a scent of death.

- Tony, you look nice.

Everyone was late, as usual,

so the party got rolling about an hour off the mark,

but so much for time.

All it does is pass you by, anyway.

It all started out quietly enough. A home cooked meal,

drinks on the house, and a group of familiar faces

we called our closest friends.

- Nice go.

It's about that frozen generation.

Anthony Zeto was an old chum from my salad days.

He boasted a string of unproduced screenplays

and just as many one night stands.

He was a silver-tongued hello artist

with a wolf's nose for female blood.

- It's like Diner.

You know Diner? - He'd brought his latest

conquest in the shape of a honey-eyed dish

named Wendy Fields.

She wanted to be a movie star and as far as I could see,

the only thing holding her back was her clothing.

- Lower and lower, and just, just --

Nice enough Kid,

even if she was a bit green around the gills.

You're asking yourself this.

Whoops.

Pick it up again.

- Femme Wilson was a friend of Diane's

going back to their Marxist days in college.

But even a communist has a few bad habits to support,

so she went into advertising.

- What do you do now?

Now she was selling philosophy

instead of buying it.

And that's what I call a good five year plan.

- Decide how I should wear my --

Dekker Wilson was Femme's husband,

a successful psychologist

and the most belligerent bastard I ever met.

Our present agreement was that we would

never agree on anything.

And the result of that was a friendship

that suited us both just fine.

- That's a great looking dress you have on.

- Thank you. - The evening

was almost perfect.

Almost. - Not at all, it's great.

- No, I liked her. - Oh, you liked her.

- Look, here it comes now.

- Looks good enough to eat.

That looks great.

- If you need anything else, I'll be in the kitchen.

- Thank you, Sarah.

- Don't think, have a stone. - That's great.

- Once a year, I have this uncontrollable urge for raw meat

and tonight's the night. - Lucky.

- Thank God it's only once a year.

I don't like this.

Okay, so pass us your plate.

- So where were we?

- Well, I was just saying, Richie, you know,

you have an incredibly naive view of the human animal.

- Ah, bullshit. Come on, come on.

And don't call me Richie, okay?

- Aw. - I think Richie's cute.

- Yeah.

- Something you're missing here, Dekker.

I don't think you can look at the human mind

as a piece of meat that you can just cut up,

or an engine that you can take

to a mechanic to get fixed.

- 'Course it's an engine.

'Course, "mind" is just some medieval concept, like soul.

We have to start talking about "brain”

and the brain is just a complicated, elaborate machine.

Okay, that's it.

- Garbage, I can't live with that.

- Look -- - Thank you.

- I'm a writer, okay?

I write for human beings.

I write for the soul.

I don't write for a machine.

- Richie, darling, it's like a car.

It's only as good as its last tuneup.

Fine insight, sweetheart.

- Okay, why don't we eat?

- Mine's still moving. - Okay, give it a go.

- Mm-hmm, after you.

- Come on.

- Anybody joining us? - It'll be chicken.

- Looks great. - Hmm.

- It's wonderful. - Mm.

See? It's not bad.

Oh, no, it's good.

Look, any goddamn writer

knows more about the human psyche

than a psychologist or a psychiatrist.

It's not even a science.

It's what, 150 years old?

It's mental masturbation.

It's a fucking crap game.

- Oh, look, look, try and be disinterested

for just a second, okay?

Not everything in the world

revolves around you as a writer, okay?

I'm speaking in principle

and in principle, there's no such thing as a mind.

Man is just a brain powered by chemicals,

electrical impulses.

It's like -- it's like a liver,

or a gallbladder, or a piece of meat, you know?

That's all it is.

When something goes wrong,

it can be fixed by chemicals or surgical procedures.

That's all there is to it, man.

Okay? There's no mystique.

- I never thought I would hear a psychiatrist

say something like this.

- Well, he fancies himself a bit of a maverick.

- Well, I'm a psychologist

and there's a difference.

I study the brain.

- You mean you don't make people lie down

and tell you their dreams?

No, sorry.

- That's okay.

I like the way he looks at me.

It's like he can read my mind.

- What's the fucking difference?

It's all bullshit, anyway.

Psychologist, psychiatrist, you're all charlatans.

You're always toying with our brains.

You're trying to turn us into zombies,

or fucking Guinea pigs or something,

just to justify your experiments.

You're taking the magic out of it.

- Okay, okay, okay.

What you're saying is really dumb.

But I can see your point.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're just afraid.

- Ah!

- Dekker, darling, we're all afraid.

So take my latest book,

for instance. There's a character,

he's a psychiatrist, but he's impotent as most of 'em are,

and the only way he can make love

IS if she's tied to a barber's chair and she's mute.

- You know what your problem is?

You think people are motivated

like the stupid characters you create in your books, right?

Which I understand are not doing so hot.

They're on remainder tables at Brentano's at the moment.

People are motivated by electricity, right?

It begins in the body.

It's biological imperative.

It's something we have no choice about.

But it's not -- it's not soul

and all this garbage that you keep coming up with

so you can sell books and fool people.

Keep my books out of it.

You're starting to piss me off.

- Richard, the man is a guest.

I'm sorry, he's a pompous asshole.

- Don't apologize to me,

it's Dekker you've insulted.

- Yes, Richie, please apologize to Dekker,

then maybe he'll shut up.

- Dekker, please, forgive me if I

refuse to kneel down to the latest psychiatric fashion.

But you can't put people under a microscope.

You can't project their actions on a sign curve.

They're more mysterious than that.

They do things for reasons that neither you

nor all this Freudian bullshit

will ever be able to fathom.

Call it faith, call it mystery, call it destiny.

- No, wait, he makes sense.

I had an Aunt, Zia Constanza,

perfectly normal her whole life.

Then years ago, for no apparent reason at all,

she invested all her money in DeLorean.

Her husband had her committed.

- Tony, be serious.

- I am, you think I'm always lying to you.

- Well, what about that part

you said was perfect for me, hmm?

- Oh, well, I want to talk to you about that.

Um, I gave it to the producer's ex-girlfriend.

- Tony, I don't believe it.

Tonight, you're going home alone.

Ooh, I'm lucky tonight.

- Need a lift?

- Anybody for another drink?

Wendy, maybe you better

give a hand with that thing.

Anybody else?

- Oh, no. - I've had enough.

- No, I'm stuffed. - No for me, thanks.

Can I have a smoke then?

Sure, just hold a sec.

- So what's the story, big boy?

- Ah, let's drop it.

- He can't take it.

- What about -- all right, what about this guy,

went up in the tower and started picking off people

with a rifle?

What about this guy who went into a burger joint

and blew away a bunch of women and children?

What about Charles Manson, for Christ's sake?

Are you trying to tell me that

there's a rational explanation for that?

- Oh, man, there's a function for that.

A brain function, right?

And when that goes wrong,

that's the stuff that happens.

- Oh, but that's awful.

So many people die and we don't know why.

- Well, they're in the wrong place at the wrong time.

That's all there is to it.

Yeah, that's all you need.

- Listen, I can't believe it.

You're a filmmaker, for Christ's sake.

Are you trying to tell me you can agree with this shit?

- I think what Dekker is trying to say is that rational acts

are seen by us as irrational.

You mean like we wanna see them as unexplainable?

- Exactly, we like to believe in the irrational.

- That's it, gives us an excuse to remain like children.

So we -- Richard needs to mystify everything

into mind and soul, and faith and destiny,

and all that dumb claptrap.

Come on, Dekker, give us a break.

- Listen, listen, you know my nephew?

Remember? - Uh-huh.

- Jason, six months old? - Yeah.

- Right.

I'm bouncing him on my knee the other day, right?

All of a sudden,

kid lets out this incredible monster fart, okay?

His eyes open wide.

He stops breathing, okay?

Then, another second, bursts into tears, right?

The kid is terrified of his own fart.

To him, it sounds like the end of the world.

We know it's just gas. - Yes.

It's the big bang theory.

You're so smug, it makes me puke sometimes.

- Oh, good, I mean, you should be quiet for a minute.

- All right, listen, I'm a mystery to myself.

You're a mystery to me.

- We're a mystery to each other, for Christ's sake.

But I'm a writer.

I'm a human fucking being.

I have to try and make some sense out of this.

Of course we're irrational.

We hunt, we sleep, we shit, we piss, we fart, we fuck.

And then every once in a while, we go a little crazy.

We cross over that line and we have to Kill.

Maybe we kill hundreds, maybe we Kill thousands.

But it's not because we're low on chemicals.

Can you get that through your thick fucking skull?

- I'd like to propose a toast to our host and hostess,

who tonight have ended one beautiful year

of love and happiness.

And are beginning second of what

I'm sure is gonna be a whole long series of such years.

May they love and prosper,

and bear many sons and daughters,

all of whom someday, as in the primal myth,

will rise up and slay their dad with a big mouth.

To Richard and Diane, with all our love.

Salud.

Thank you, dear. - Cheers.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

So, okay, I know I'm gonna be home early,

'cause I have a bit of a headache

and this party's kind of dying out.

Yeah, it was fun.

It was okay.

We had a nice meal and everything.

Okay, so I left you some --

Oh, you found it.

It was good, wasn't it?

Yeah, no, I don't cook like that.

It's my mom's.

Okay, so I'll see you in about,

say, an hour, hour and a half.

Give my sweetheart a kiss.

Okay, goodnight.

When I came to, my brain

felt like it was carved open by a pack of wild butchers.

Whatever she put in that meat hit harder

than dirty smack in a cheap junkie's needle.

But the pain in my head was nothing

compared to the rabid fear

that burned through my guts like a blast furnace.

- What a mess.

Kazma?

I'm busy.

- I've got a surprise for you.

I don't like surprises.

You'll like this one.

The company has arrived.

- You got people? - Mm-hmm.

- You got real people?

- Real people.

- Are there any girls?

- Lot.

- Ooh, I hope they like me.

Okay, I get the tub.

- She promised the tub to me.

- You promised the first time that we got real people

that you'd give me the tub.

You promised.

- No, no, no, no.

You can look, but you can't touch.

Now that's better.

Now, be a good little boy and let me see a smile.

Come on now, let me see those pearly whites.

You take the chair tonight.

Okay, now come on, boys, we've gotta get going here.

I gotta go put my makeup on

and I'll meet you In the playroom in 20 minutes.

And clean this mess up and shut off that awful music.

- I never liked the second act of this opera, anyway.

It always made me feel melancholy.

- Waldo, what are you talking about, Waldo?

We got real people, you big jerk.

We got real people.

Fuck.

I knew one thing for sure.

Beyond that door, life took second place.

The nightmare was on the other side

just waiting to swallow me whole.

A kind of nightmare from which you never wake up,

or wake up already dead.

Go fuck yourself.

Let me out of here, bastards!

You fucks!

Shut up!

Come here, come here.

Sit down.

- Here. - Here.

Sarah Tusk wasn't insane.

She was beyond insanity.

She left it standing at the gate.

Whatever they did to her in this place

was buried deep inside her brain like a maggot.

And every time it crawled, she crawled along with it.

She was running neck and neck with mania

and at any moment, she was going to win.

Well, hello, you all.

It's so nice that y'all came down this evening to see me.

Are y'all having a real good time?

I know we're gonna have a good time.

Did y'all enjoy your dinner, hmm?

Wasn't it real nice?

Come on now, let's see some fun on those faces.

I can't see any of you smiling.

Y'all look like you're gonna die or somethin'.

Come on, now, I wanna hear you say something.

Come on, tell me if y'all are having a good time.

Are you having a good time?

Come on, I wanna hear you say, yeah!

- Yeah! - I said yeah!

- Oh, yeah! - I said yeah!

You see before you the three stations of the soul,

the id, the ego, and the superego.

It is also the number of congregants we have in our church,

as well as the number of roles

we will assume in tonight's ceremony.

So you see, each and every one of us

will experience the sensual pleasures of the full cycle,

the dispassion, eroticism of the voyeur.

And we also have the impotent thrill

of the eunuch disciple.

And as well, we have the godlike power of the executioner.

We are ready to begin the ceremony to Freud.

Now, which one will it be, boys?

Let's see.

I know.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

Catch a monkey by the toe.

If he hollers, let him go.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe!

You're it, honey.

- Come here, sir.

- Next.

So nice to see you again.

And how are you?

Just relax.

Just -- oh, you have such beautiful hair.

♪ La, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la ♪

♪ La, la ♪

Is that hot enough for you?

No, no, no, no, just say something.

No.

I tell you, in order to get a really, really close shave,

the face must always be prepped first.

You see, it opens the pores, it lets the skin breathe.

It makes the whiskers stand erect.

So, how's the wife?

Did you see those Yankees last night, hmm?

What a game.

Bums, a bunch of bums.

I could have coached them better myself.

Perfect.

Always just a Rolls, I say.

Finest blade money can buy.

Have you ever really thought about shaving?

I mean, the act itself.

Why is it that every day,

a man takes a sharp, sharp instrument

like a razor blade,

And moves it back and forth, up and down his soft skin.

The skin on his face.

Isn't that crazy?

It's not civilized.

Only reason we shave is to add yet another difference

between man and animal.

Because, you see, animals

don't shave the hair from their bodies.

There's no need to.

Only men and women do.

And it's awful, because you never know

when you just might slip.

Now see what you've done.

I'm just gonna have to work around your struggles.

You're making it worse for yourself.

You might as well relax.

Okay, okay, okay.

Relax.

Relax.

How about a haircut?

Now look what you've done!

Don't think I would let you leave this place

and tell the world about this.

I have a reputation at stake.

My clientele to think about.

Now you've gone and blasted your blabbermouth.

Now you've gone and done it.

I can't let you leave and tell the world that Kazma Varus

IS a quack barber.

Shave and a haircut, two bits.

- Oh.

- Nice work, eh?

Do come back again.

Yeah, Mario's? I'd like to order a large pizza, please.

Anchovies.

- Yeah, give me everything on it and anchovies.

Don't forget the anchovies.

Yeah, yeah.

Give me three Brios and a Fresca,

and a deck of Black Cat filters, please.

Mm-hmm.

Uh, Lakeview Asylum for Mental Disease.

1313 Lakeview Boulevard.

Great.

I'll leave a light on for you.

Forty minutes?

Thanks a lot.

Bye-bye.

- Come on you bitch.

Come on, it's your turn.

- Please.

Please. - You better

get out of those clothes.

They'll only get wet

and then you'll catch your death of cold.

- Please, no.

No.

No, no, no!

No!

Feel good?

Ooh.

Come on, give me your hand.

That's good, that's a good girl.

- Oh, please. - That's good.

Come on, come on.

It's all right.

You are a good girl.

A nice bath.

- Oh, please.

- It's good to relax in a hot tub.

It makes you feel better.

- Oh, please.

- It eases your mind.

Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit.

It'll make you feel better.

Shock treatment makes me feel better, too.

You'll like it.

You'll see.

No.

- You'll like it.

You really will. - No!

- Here, I'll start off slow at first,

SO you can ease into it.

There, that wasn't so bad.

- Oh, no, please.

- I think you'd better turn it up by 50%.

- Oh, please, no.

Please.

- She's looking so much better.

Turn it up full.

- Whoo-ho!

Ooh!

Oh, oh, oh.

Oh.

- Yo!

Anybody order a pizza?

You order a pizza?

- Anchovies?

Oh, let me see.

Yeah.

- You bring the Brios and the smokes?

- Yeah, they're right here.

- Good.

How much?

- Let me see...that's $18.50, plus, uh --

- Plus what?

- Well, look at this.

It says here that you're the 100th customer of the day,

so there's no charge.

What was that?

- Rats.

Big fucking rats in this place.

Had to kill one the other day with a shotgun.

- Rats? - Uh-huh.

- Yeah, well, I guess they be big around here.

You enjoy that pizza, okay?

Okay.

- Nice try.

- You're gonna die.

Come on.

Shut up.

Come on, fat slob.

Get up.

Can't wait for this, huh?

Yeah, so what you think?

Get down there.

Shut up, shut up.

Shut up.

Shut up!

- Now then, Dr. Wilson, tell me all your problems.

Did you have an unhappy childhood?

Was your mother a shrew?

Were you jealous of your brother?

Were you a spoiled child?

Come, come, Dr. Wilson, you're a doctor,

you know how important it is to cooperate.

Well, then...

if you won't let me help you with psychoanalysis,

I'm simply going to have to revert to modern methods.

Now, one little hit of this,

And you're going to feel much, much, much better.

Now, Doctor, stay still.

Keep still, Dr. Wilson.

Come on.

That's a good little boy.

Now, Dr. Wilson, you're making

this very difficult for me, Dr. Wilson.

Dr. Wilson! Keep still, Dr. Wilson!

Dr. Wilson! Dr. Wilson, keep still!

Now, Dr. Wilson --

This simply is not going to work.

Now I just simply don't know what I'm gonna do.

Now that's an idea.

Hmm. Well, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong in there.

That is good news, isn't it?

But just in case, I'm going to write you

out a prescription for antidepressants.

Now, I'd like you to take one tablet twice daily.

At first, you'll feel a little bit groggy,

but then you'll feel more alert and alive

than you've ever felt.

There you go.

Well, now, seems your hour is up.

See you next week.

We have now completed the first cycle.

Let us rest before we begin the second.

- Great, let's eat.

This is yours.

Waldo, careful with the knife.

You're making me nervous.

Ah, ow.

Did you hurt yourself, honey?

- You crazy jerk.

Don't leave the thumb on my piece.

What is this, no napkins?

What do they think we are, pigs?

Who got meat on this pizza?

You guys know -- - Diane.

- I can't eat meat.

I don't like it.

Makes me sick to look at it already.

- I'm definitely -- - Diane.

- Convinced that you're a pig.

Don't eat like that.

What are you -- what are you doing?

Ah, good pizza.

How's the drink?

Diet enough for you?

- You finish it.

Don't throw that at me.

- Okay, boys, it's getting late.

We gotta get going.

I'll go get changed and when you boys are finished,

I'll meet you at the altar.

- Don't fuck with me, Tony.

Just don't fuck with me.

Hey, man, once you fuck with me,

you--you--you fuck with the best, man.

You know you fuck with the best.

How'd you get that scar, Tony?

Get that scar eating pussy?

How am I gonna get a scar like this eating pussy man, huh?

Come on, how am I gonna do that?

- Kaz, what the fuck are you doing?

- I got two things in this world, man.

I got my balls and my back,

and I don't break them for nobody.

- That's Al Pacino in Scarface.

- Okay, hotshot, you try.

- She came at me in sections.

More curves than a scenic railway.

- Fred Astaire, The Great Thick Field.

I had a dream.

I had a dream about it.

A snail crossing a straight razor and lived.

- That's, uh, that's Brando in Apocalypse Now.

- No, yeah, yeah, come on, no, I want you to have it.

No take -- no, take it, take it.

Well, it's -- it's all I got.

- What?

- You don't know? - I don't know.

Okay, okay, I'll try something else, okay.

Ready, ready?

- That's uh, that's James Cagney in Anything at All.

- Go.

- There are men and there are women.

And sometimes, when they fit together really well,

they go together like spoons.

Lana Turner, The Naked Jungle.

- Movies ain't what they used to be, you know that?

- I should've been an actor.

I should've.

- Welcome back, guys.

Thank you for being so very, very, very patient.

Ooh, ooh.

We will now conclude with tonight's festivities.

Let us begin with prayer.

These bedbug loonies had nothing left to lose,

so they played for the highest stakes.

They were trying to beat the devil at his own game.

And I couldn't afford another slip up.

I had to make my next move with a trump card

and it had to be as cold and clean as a killer's kiss.

- You're on.

- Hey, how are you?

I haven't seen you in a long time.

Oh, but your hair looks wild.

You haven't been seeing someone else, have you?

Don't worry, we'll fix that right up.

We've got some split ends here.

Naughty, naughty girl.

Ah, such beautiful dogs.

But they do look so overworked.

Have you ever really thought about toes?

Now, Dr. Freud has a lot to say about feet.

So why don't we start with a pedicure, hmm?

They're lovely.

So beautiful.

So frail.

So pretty.

But they're going to have to come out.

- Stop him!

- Freeze motherfuckers!

You move and I'll blow your fucking lungs out!

Kill him, Waldo!

Kill him.

What are you waiting for?

- Hold it!

- It's not fair!

I didn't get to finish!

- Halt!

- Ah, come here.

- Come on, baby. Come on, get up.

That's it.

All right, all right now. Take this, take this.

Hold it, that's it.

Let's go.

Hold it, wait.

Let's move, let's go.

Okay, go that way.

Go!

Okay, all right.

What's this?

Okay.

Where are we?

Okay, find something to wear.

See if you can find something.

Come on.

Diane, here, put this on.

We gotta get outta here.

Where's the knife?

Where's the knife?

Take it, take it now.

Come on.

Wait a minute, wait a minute.

All right.

Let's go.

Richard, I've got to stop.

I've got to catch my breath.

Oh, God, we're never gonna get out of here.

- Don't worry, babe.

They're all dead.

Diane, get the fuck out of here.

Run.

Save yourself.

Find a way out.

Die, motherfucker.

Diane!

Wait!

It's me, don't be afraid.

Diane.

Diane!

Diane!

Diane!

Wait!

It's me, Diane! Wait!

Diane!

- Come out, come out, wherever you are.

- No.

- Diane!

Diane, where are you?

Diane? Diane?

Where the fuck are you going?

Window.

Diane.

Diane, baby.

It's all right now.

Come on, come on, Diane.

No, wait!

It's me!

Well, that's my story.

Not too pretty, but the straight goods.

You can use it if you want to.

It'll make a good case history.

Or better yet, a story to scare the hell

out of your friends after a dinner party.

But like I said,

whatever doesn't Kill you makes you stronger.

Unless, of course, it kills you.

So do yourself a favor,

don't tell anyone you heard this from a dead man.

They'll think you're crazy.