Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974–1975): Season 1, Episode 19 - The Youth Killer - full transcript

Nowhere in man's history
does he display more tenacity,

more perseverance, than in
his search for eternal youth.

Halting the relentless process of aging
has been a constant dream of man's...

and woman's.

Hecate...

Eternal youth...
Is it really a dream,

or is it possible that somewhere
someone found the secret?

The following experience
gave me a new attitude...

on the whole subject
of youth and aging.

September 20, 8:05 p.m.

William Cubby, age 22,



deeply concerned with retaining
his youthful vigor, his trim physique.

This concern had made him
a dedicated jogger.

Cubby would never know
if the jogging really helped.

He was the first in a series of Chicagoans...

who were spared the ordeal of
seeing their youth slip away, slowly.

See what can happen with all this
emphasis on staying young? Poor old fool.

What's so unusual about a man of
90 having a heart attack and dying?

He was jogging. Jogging!

I'll be happy if I can bend down
and tie my shoelaces when I'm 90.

If you take better care of yourself,
with the proper food and exercise,

you should be able to do everything
at 90 that you could do at 19.

- Good morning, everyone.
- Good morning, Mr. Vincenzo.

- What a lovely morning today.
- Yeah.

You notice anything different
about me today? Anything different?



- Different?
- Yes.

I lost five pounds.

Exercise, yoga 45 minutes
a day, and I skip breakfast.

- Have we run out of things to do around here?
- No.

You are working on the swinging
singles update, Carl, right?

- Yeah, yeah, that's right.
- What have you come up with so far?

Uh, listen, there have been a lot of changes
in the last 10 years in the dating scene.

That was the reason
for the update.

You will have it on my desk
by Friday, won't you?

- Friday. Right.
- Fine.

Uh, that's just a rough draft.

Tony, I've got here...

a very nice French,
caramel-covered doughnut.

You can have it for breakfast.
I won't tell anybody.

This fellow would have never
reached 90 eating stuff like that.

- Yeah, but look what he died from... exercise.
- Carl...

Now, Tony, that is a rough
draft. You understand?

- I understand.
- I'm just blocking it out...

I'm just gonna glance at it.
That's all.

Well, it's, uh...
It's very rough.

What's that?

- That's for colds and flu.
- What's the other one?

- That's vitamin "E."
- What's that for?

You know, Tony, there was something
very peculiar about that old jogger.

This is quite good, Carl. I
will get the rest of it on Friday?

- He was jogging along the River
Road... - Carl, forget about that fella.

Nobody cares
about 90-year-old people!

- Tony... - Carl, this is a
youth-orientated culture.

Their music, clothing
styles, language...

That's where it is news-wise
at this point in time.

But that body
had no I.D. on it.

I mean,
it had no social security.

It had no Medicaid, Medicare.
It had nothing.

Carl, look, last week on the Johnny Carson
show, they had an Indian, 110 years old.

He wore this feathered war bonnet, and
he was doing push-ups, and it was dull.

- I get the point, Tony. I get the point.
- I hope so.

It's, uh... It's just that...

along that particular strip
along the River Road...

means that that old jogger
had to run for four miles.

I mean, a 90-year-old man.

If he had drove to River Road,
they'd have found his car by now.

And if somebody
dropped him off down there,

whoever it was would've come
down to claim the body by now.

But you're right, Tony.
Who cares? Nobody cares.

New York wants
that swinging singles feature.

It wants it light, perceptive,
full of insight and by Friday!

Right, right, right.
I get it, Tony. Right.

Ca...

The most conservative
newspaper in Chicago...

has a classified column
headed "Social Clubs."

The ads offer computer
matching, astrological mating,

but it all boils down
to a simple need.

You want a girl, right?

No, not exactly. What I really
wanna know is how it all works.

- I find you the girl of your dreams is how it works.
- And then what happens?

Magic, love,
maybe even friendship.

Uh, here, take one of these cards
and fill it out, and we'll get started.

Uh-huh. Well,
can I think about it?

- What's to think about?
- Oh, now, don't be nervous.

Why, I take care of everything.

Now, uh, generally,

you meet the girl right here,
usually... come and sit down...

Usually with her relatives,
and we have a nice cup of tea.

- Come and sit down.
- Yeah, all right, all right.

And it's very informal.

Um, is there something
you wanted to tell me?

- Uh...
- Something you're ashamed of?

No. You see,
I'm a newspaper reporter.

Well, that's not so bad.
I'll find you a girl anyway.

No, I don't want a girl.
See, I'm looking for an angle...

for a story I'm writing
on the singles scene.

You mean you're wasting
my time for nothing?

I chose you because I think you've got the
whole picture. I mean, the whole schmear.

Besides that, I've got a very tough
editor, and I've got a very short deadline.

- Are you married?
- Me? No. No.

- What's your biggest competitor?
- Oh, singles apartments,

- singles bars, computer matching.
- Oh?

- Have you ever been married?
- No. Never, never, never.

Uh-huh. Computer matching. I
thought that went out with love beads.

Well, I watched a lot of them
fold up, but there's still a few left.

- What's the biggest one?
- Max Match.

- Max...
- Oh, these people.

They're only concerned about
youth and physical beauty.

- Egomaniacs trying to hook up with each other.
- Yeah.

I mean, charm,
steady work, sincerity...

These things
don't count for anything.

- Uh, you have a good job?
- Yeah, it's all right.

- What are your hobbies?
- None. I'm too busy. I work all the time.

Oh, good.
That means you're ambitious.

- Oh, I've got a lot of nice girls for you to meet.
- What?

What are you doing there?
What do you got?

No, Bella.
You got the wrong idea.

No, I'm... I'm not
in the market for a wife.

Me, married?
That's ridiculous.

No, thanks. Thanks a lot, Bella,
but I've gotta go to work.

Oh, good.
Business does come first.

- Don't worry. I'll be in touch.
- Yeah.

Newspaperman.

Author.

September 21, 8:13 p.m.
Cynthia Tibbs,

young and beautiful and
determined to stay that way,

was performing
her nightly exercise.

Cynthia's concern over aging was
more real than she would ever know.

September 22, 10:00 a.m.

I had spent the night
hitting singles bars,

hearing all about biorhythms,
Harvey Wallbangers,

rugby, tuned exhausts
and, of course, sex.

I got enough to write
that part of my feature.

Singles apartments were up
for the next day,

and I found they came in all sizes
in varying degrees of exclusivity.

I decided to start at the top.

This way.

- May I have that, please?
- Oh, yes, of course.

- I was just looking for someone in authority to give it to.
- Mmm. Thank you.

- What did the medical examiner say?
- May I ask who you are?

Yes, of course.
See, Kolchak, I.N.S.

- You're Kolchak?
- Yeah, that's right.

You're the one the precinct
captains are always talking about?

- What do they say?
- That you're a pinwheel.

That's because those idiots
don't know...

I don't accept other people's
judgments. I make my own evaluations.

Are you sure that you work on
the Chicago Police Department...

and not for some independent
agency I don't know anything about?

Uh, Chicago P.D.,
Sergeant Orkin.

I like to think I understand
the value of the news media.

I feel the police and press
should work in concert.

- Where you been all my life?
- In Edgewood, out in the boonies.

My first case is
a hundred-year-old Jane Doe,

in a singles playground,
dressed in a body stocking.

Uh-huh. Why would she wear a ring
that was so loose it falls off her finger?

When my grandmother hit 80, she insisted
on wearing her stockings over her shoes.

Sometimes they get that way.

- They do, huh?
- Yeah.

- Miss Tibbs?
- Just a minute.

Take a look around the bedroom.
What's the party's name?

Cynthia Tibbs, a professional
convention hostess.

- Beautiful girl.
- Is she at work now?

- I guess, or she's sleeping out these days.
- Uh-huh.

She went away and just left
this sliding door wide open?

Why not? Who's gonna rob her
up here on the third floor?

- Besides, this is a security building.
- Uh-huh.

Miss Tibbs mention anything to
you about having a relative staying?

- Mother, grandmother, aunt?
- No, no.

- No sign of an older woman's clothes and no suitcases.
- What's this doing on?

She probably left that on so people
would think someone was home.

I do the same thing,
in case of robbery.

I thought this was
a security building.

This is the last apartment. I don't
know how the old girl got where she got,

but she didn't take a gainer
off one of these balconies.

- Has anybody been in to identify him?
- Nope.

- What about the old lady they brought in today?
- Are you kidding?

Read the coroner's report. Puts
them both at about 100 years old.

Yeah.

Nobody comes in
to identify people that age.

You know, he must have lived a rich, full
life to have hung on to such a ripe old age.

Mmm. Yeah. It says on here the
cause of death was heart failure.

- What about the old lady?
- Same. Do you mind if I lower the sheet?

- My arms are getting tired.
- Wait. There's a mark on his finger.

- It looks like a ring mark.
- Do you got the ring?

It may be in the
personal belongings box.

- Personal belongings box.
- Uh-huh.

Uh-huh. "11684."

- Uh, how much, Gordy?
- Not this time.

You're always down in the
morgue asking special favors.

- No, I always pay.
- You promise money, but you never come through.

No, you got me mixed up
with somebody else.

- How about five bucks?
- Nope.

We morgue attendants are
always getting burned by you.

We talked it over, and we want a
portable TV for when things are slow.

- Color.
- A color television set?

Are you out of your mind?
I don't have that kind of money.

By the way, that glass peeper
belongs to the old man.

Why wasn't it
in the autopsy report?

The pathologists don't bother doing
full workups with real old people.

I mean, everything's
wrong with them.

It goes in the belongings box.

Listen, Gordy,
I've got to get in that box.

Come on. You know I
can't afford a television set.

Aw, how much can it cost ya?

- Well, black and white?
- Color.

- Black and white.
- Eighteen-inch screen?

- Used.
- It's a deal.

That's the glass eye.

Glass eye. Right. Okay.

- Jogging trousers.
- Shoes.

- Shoes.
- He had big feet, huh?

- This is his jacket.
Down here... - What's this?

- A key.
- Uh-huh.

Where's the ring? There's
no ring in here. Where is it?

Well, either he wasn't wearing
it when he died, or it fell off.

No one here took it.
Nothing gets you fired so fast.

Yeah, all right. Concerning
your television set...

- Please, please, no threats.
- N...

We made a deal, and I
let you look in the box.

- Is it my fault if the ring isn't in there?
- Well, uh...

- Now, I think the TV'll go right there.
- Uh-huh.

And if I'm not watching Let's Make
a Deal by the end of next week,

there'll be no more deals
down here.

Yes, sir. If Monty Hall can't liven
this place up, there's no hope.

Thanks a lot, Gordy.

You there, there's no parking
along this stretch of the road.

- What do you got there? What do you got there?
- Huh? Oh. Uh...

A four-leaf clover.

Yes?

Send him in.

Come in.

Well, this is nice, really.

It's comfortable for me.

- May I call you Lance?
- Sure. That'd be terrific.

- The computer was right. You're charming.
- Yeah.

Sit down.

Max Match is very exclusive
in itself, Lance,

but within the general membership
there are superior people.

Truly superior in every respect.

The computer picks them out. It picked you.

This means that you will be matched
with the most beautiful people in Chicago.

- You will be a member of the Olympians.
- Is it expensive?

No, there's no charge.

It's an indulgence of mine.

You see, beauty and youth are the
most important things in the world to me.

I have to ask you a question.
It's very important.

Was everything on
your application truthful?

I mean, do you have
any physical imperfections?

- No, none at all.
- But there is something.

Well, my name really isn't
Lance Mervin. I changed it legally.

Well, that doesn't matter. The
name you picked suits you very well.

- Thank you.
- This makes you an Olympian.

Congratulations.

Now all the gods and goddesses
will know who you are.

And this scroll
makes it official.

- When does the action start?
- Oh, tonight.

Well, I don't like
what you're doing, Irvin.

Mother, can't you call me Lance?

No. You were Irvin
when I was in labor.

You were Irvin when I
fed you with my breast.

- You'll always be Irvin for me.
- I know.

What kind of a name is Lance
for a cost accountant?

That's the idea. I'm trying to
get my identity crisis together.

- What?
- I want to change my image.

I don't understand that.

And I don't understand
you using a machine either...

to pick some person you could
spend your whole life with.

Are you listening to me?

Or maybe you're thinking
just of tonight.

I'd like to see the kind
of girl you asked for.

I asked for a
girl just like you.

Wash your hands.

Mmm.

Some kind of lady you're meeting
in those short pants, Irvin.

These are tennis shorts.

- It's what you wear on a tennis date.
- Mm-hmm.

Call me Lance.

Don't be out late, Irvin!

The key I had pilfered...

was stamped with
the number 118 "E."

- "E" what? It took some
footwork on my part, -

but I found a building on Akron
Street that matched the number.

Wrong floor. I'm downstairs.

Hello?

Hello?

Hello!

Anybody home?

Phew.

"William Cubby.
Max Match Corporation."

The occupant's name
was William Cubby,

and whatever he was now, he had
been considered a very special single...

by Max Match
just a few days ago.

The scroll welcomed him
into the inner circle...

of the super-beautiful...
The perfect people.

But perhaps Cubby
wasn't perfect.

Oh.

Indeed, it seemed that William
Cubby wasn't perfect at all.

And Irvin, a.k.a. Lance? He would
never again be concerned about his image.

His mother was right.

Lance's appointment had indeed
been with a different kind of lady.

Yeah, that's right. And, of course,
I thought about you immediately...

About what you said about wanting to
work in concert with the press, with me.

- I said that?
- Yeah. Well, here's our opportunity.

You can provide me
with the proof that I need.

Uh, proof...

Proof a hundred-year-old
jogger is actually...

a 22-year-old stereo salesman
named William Cubby...

That the two men
are one and the same?

- Yeah, that's right. I know what you're thinking.
- Uh-huh.

You're thinking, why should I
supply him with proof?

- What's in it for me, right?
- Right.

Why did you transfer here
from Wedgewood?

- Edgewood.
- Right. Why did you make the move?

It was for excitement and
thrills and advancement, right?

Okay, now picture this. Picture yourself
walking right into your captain's office,

and you tell him that
you got this case licked...

That all these old people,
who are embarrassing...

everybody in the department... everybody
else... by dropping dead all over the place...

aren't really
old people after all.

They're really a bunch
of virile, supple swingers!

- You are a pinwheel.
- What?

When I came back that first day and told
the captain you weren't such a bad guy,

he almost busted a gut, finally
had to go to the men's room.

Look here. They stuck this
in my coffee mug.

"A pinwheel for a pinhead."

Well, I wouldn't pay
any attention to that.

They're always kidding,
those guys.

Now, the old man in the morgue had a glass
eye... blue... and so did William Cubby.

It was marked right down
on his driver's license.

Here it is. Here it is. There's
the spare blue eye. See?

- Our case rests on a glass eye?
- Yeah. Yeah, that's right.

It kept nagging me. You see, something
was wrong with the driver's license.

And sure enough, there
it was... artificial eye.

Let me get this straight.

You want me to go to the captain and tell
him I've licked the case with a glass eye?

People aging a lifetime
overnight?

Oh, no. You see, the door key that was
found on the old man fit Cubby's apartment.

Now, what you have to do
is you have to see...

if Cubby ever had
his fingerprints taken.

Then you take those fingerprints,
you go down to the lab,

and you lift the prints off the old man
down there and compare the two of them.

And if you do, that's our proof!

That's all the proof that I
need... you need... we need.

I can just see the print boys' faces
when I tell them why I want the work.

Hey, what key the old man had?
How'd you get this?

Did you take personal
belongings out of the morgue?

- Would I do a thing like that?
- You robbed our Cook County Morgue?

Well, Sergeant, you know,
it isn't a shrine.

- It's just a morgue.
- Get out.

- There was an...
- I said, get out.

But I thought we were gonna
work in concert together.

Concert. When I start waving
my baton, it'll be over your head.

- Well, if that's the way you feel about it.
- Here. And take this with you.

How about it?
Have you seen Cynthia Tibbs?

Nothing. Like I told you
police before, that's her lifestyle.

You know, in and out,
come and go.

She's probably here in the
building, in another apartment.

For two whole days?

I guess you haven't been
single for a few years.

I was never that single.

What's that, some kind of clue?

"This is to certify Cynthia Tibbs has been
selected by the Max Match Corporation."

Looks like she was some kind of a
member of, uh, some kind of a society...

at the Max Match Corporation.

Uh, miss?

- Would you fill these out, please?
- Sure.

Uh, miss, could I have...

Hey, what's all this medical
background? Scars and operations?

- They really get personal.
- That's the idea. It makes it exclusive.

- I like it that way.
- Under partner preference, I'm gonna put down...

vegetarian, Sagittarius,
on the cusp.

- What do you think?
- I'll take any chick...

who's on a macrobiotic diet,
who's into Tantric yoga.

What ever happened to the girl just
like the girl that married dear old Dad?

It's a song.

- Miss... - Would you
follow me, please?

Right this way.

Are you being helped?

No, and, uh, I'm being ignored.

- I'd like to know why.
- What can I do for you?

I would think the first thing I do is
fill out one of those application forms.

I'm sorry, but...

Linda, I'll see the gentleman.

Wowee! Looks like a boudoir.

I'm sorry. I think there's
been a misunderstanding.

- You see, we only accept people under 30.
- Uh-huh.

Is that for your general
membership, or is that restricted...

to the special group
that you call the Olympians?

Now, why would an attractive
man like you be here?

- I wanna be an Olympian.
- You don't need us.

You're very male. You have the
confidence to dress as you like,

and, I suspect, do as you
like with everything, Mr...

- Kolak. Yeah.
- Kolak.

Boy, this is really some office.

You should see the joint that I have to work in.

- What do you do, Mr. Kolak?
- I'm a writer.

You know, I've never seen painted
furniture like that before in an office.

It's just terrific.
You got more of it back there?

- Uh, our computer's back there.
- Oh.

- It's not very aesthetic.
- Yeah. Yeah.

You use a camera
in your writing?

No. No, it's just
a hobby of mine. No.

That's all. And half the time,
the darn thing doesn't even work.

- Whoops! There she goes again.
- See, it's just...

What kind of writing do you do?
Short stories or novels?

Uh, yeah, both. Yeah.

I'm an avid reader.
Any titles I might recognize?

No. No, I don't think so.

I don't have much of a
readership here in the States.

My publisher thinks my stories are
much too bizarre. Like the one I wrote...

about young people who were
being turned into crones in a minute.

- Just like that, they're dead.
- It's unusual, at any rate.

You've got an unusual job here.
How'd you get this kind of a job?

- It was a fluke.
- I love flukes!

I've written some of my
best stories about flukes.

I hate to be rude, but I'm afraid
I'm gonna have to ask you to go.

For some reason, around
this time of day, I get very tired.

- Yeah, but... - Nice
talking to you, Mr. Kolak.

Yeah, yeah, but you haven't
told me about the Olympians.

Maybe next ti...

After my enlightening
conversation...

with the beautiful
Helen Surtees,

I ran a check through tax
records and business licenses.

The Max Match dating service
was almost brand-spanking new.

No one knew where it came from
or what other branches it had.

It seemed to me that
such mysterious origins...

warranted what we in the press
call "the midnight interview."

Hecate...

Rene Michele,
first-grade teacher,

was anticipating
an exciting evening...

arranged for her
by the Max Match Corporation.

But her kids had worn her out that day,
making her feel older than her 23 years.

Rene had opted for a nap
before getting dressed.

Rene never heard her alarm.

She never awoke from her nap.

The next day, Rene's class
would have a substitute teacher.

I don't get it. Your hunch was right about
it being Greek, but it's ancient Greek...

A prayer for a sacrifice to
Hecate, the goddess of youth.

- What kind of a sacrifice?
- What kind of sacrifice?

All that mattered was that
they be physically perfect.

Oh. So this Hecate had
pretty high standards, right?

All the Greek gods
were easily offended.

Everything had to be
absolutely perfect, just right.

As if it came out
of a computer, right?

I think this is the
sacrificer right here. Here.

The most beautiful woman
in the world.

The face that launched a
thousand ships. Helen of Troy.

That's Helen Surtees. She runs the Mix
Match... Max Match computer company.

- What are you talking about?
- Yeah.

She resembles every statue
of Helen I've ever seen.

I'd give everything
to get next to that.

I think that's the deal...
Everything.

You know, every time
I talk about the classics,

I wish I was back in college
teaching again.

But there were all those
beautiful girl students.

I could never keep my head on straight.

Well, anyway,
Helen was half mortal.

She was a demigoddess, and
she'd made a deal with Hecate.

The Randolph, please.

No, I'm sorry, Jack.
This cab's taken.

No hurry. I got a hangover
that could kill a buffalo.

- Conventions are murder.
- Yeah, I can tell, yeah.

Helen's deal with Hecate
was for eternal youth, right?

- That's the story.
- Hey, you got her number?

I wound up with
a real bowwow last night.

You are referring to my sister!

Oh, I can see
she's a lovely lady.

Suppose something went wrong
with the sacrifices. What happened?

The wrath of the gods.

A shepherd once put up a
sick lamb for a sacrifice to Diana.

Yeah?

- She turned him to stone.
- Stone?

- That's right.
- Stoned? Who's getting stoned? Who's this Diana?

Listen, can't you let me in
on any of this action, huh?

Kaz, were the sacrifices to
Hecate prepared in any special way?

No. Nothing elaborate.

They were always marked with some kind
of medallion or ornamentation of some kind.

- Ornamentation? You mean like a ring?
- Sure.

Look, when I said I'm in no hurry, I
didn't mean we should spend the day here.

Hey, why don't you
take another cab?

Who do you think
you're talking to, cabbie?

I am the president
of my own feed company.

I flew here first class.

I'm staying at the Randolph,
the biggest hotel in the world.

Twenty-four hundred rooms.

Hey, sport, you are not staying
at the biggest hotel in the world.

The Hotel Rossiya in Moscow
has 3,200 rooms,

and your hotel's nothing.

Who counts Communists?

- All right. Come on, Kaz. Let's get this thing off, huh?
- Yeah.

- Mayonnaise?
- It's an old Greek remedy.

- Nothing greasier under the sun.
- Mayonnaise?

Yeah. I had a kid
get his head stuck out...

in that iron-rail fence of mine out front there.

Stuck a little mayonnaise on his
cheeks, and he popped right out of there.

Yeah. Will somebody answer the
telephone, please? Ron, are you so busy?

- It's for you. It's for you.
- Huh? Excuse me, Kaz.

Hello?

Hello, Mr. Kolchak.

- Bella Sarkof.
- And how are you tonight?

- I'm very busy.
- And I'm not?

I've been working like a
beaver to find you a girl.

Her name is Natalie Kravarik,

a dental assistant, 38 years young.

Bella... Bella, I don't want a
girl. I don't need your services.

- Well, good night, Carl.
- You don't need my services.

Robert Redford you are,
all of a sudden?

- Good night, Emily.
- Emily? Who's Emily?

- Good night, Mr. Vincenzo.
- Don't worry, Bella!

- Good night, Miss Emily.
- I've got somebody else for you!

He's a police sergeant,
unmarried and young.

Oh, hey, that's a find.
A wonderful mate.

- They're eligible for pensions.
- Good night, Mr. Vincenzo.

Yeah. Yeah, his name
is Sergeant Orkin.

You can call him
at the 12th Precinct.

He's lonely, new in town,
and he's just right for Natalie.

You're telling me
my job already?

If not Natalie,
maybe someone else.

Oh, when I get hold of one
like him, I sink my teeth in,

and I don't let go
until rings are exchanged.

D-Don't talk to me about rings.

- Carl!
- Not now, Tony. Not now.

I'll talk to you tomorrow morning
about that singles assignment.

- I got problems now.
- Eh. I don't know what to do with that.

Is there any other way
we can break Helen's spell?

Yeah. There is one way.

- Kolchak!
- Not now, Tony.

- Now, Carl, please!
- Please?

Tony?

- Tony, are you all right? Where are you?
- Over here.

- What are you doing there?
- Help me up, will you?

Tony, you called me in here to
show me how you practice your yoga?

Carl, help me get up!

Why don't you start with a
beginner's position, something simple?

- This is the beginner's position!
- Oh. Here.

- I'm sorry about that, Tony.
- Here, try this hand.

- What do you got on your hand?
- Mayonnaise.

- Mayonnaise?
- Yeah.

- Look at that. They left work with all the lights on.
- All right. What's the story?

Carl, did I hear you say you're gonna
discuss the singles feature tomorrow?

- Yeah, tomorrow. Yeah.
- Tomorrow is Friday.

That's when it's due
in New York.

Well, the story is all finished.

It just needs a little polishing in the morning,
and I'll send it right off. Come on, Kaz.

- Well, the priests were very powerful.
- Uh-huh.

Their enemies had to destroy the
temple in order to make them powerless.

- Destroy the temple.
- Do you mind if I read the copy?

After all,
I am the bureau chief.

Yes, absolutely, Tony.
Absolutely.

Tomorrow morning, first thing,
I'll spitball a few ideas at you.

Spitballing a few ideas is when you start
a feature, not when you're polishing it.

No, that's the way I work. I
spit and polish at the same time.

- Thanks, Kaz. I owe you.
- Hey!

I didn't say that destroying
the temple was gonna work.

Destroy the temple?
Destroy what temple?

Kolchak, come back here!

What temple
are you gonna destroy?

Kolchak! What... What temple
is he gonna destroy?

What is he gonna...
Hey, who are you?

That's pretty strenuous exercise
for a man your age, isn't it?

It's pretty strenuous exercise
for a man any age.

You've ruined some very
expensive statues. Museum quality.

- And what did it get you?
- Well, your temple's ruined.

According to Kaz, Hecate ought
to be destroying you about now.

I don't think you're qualified
to speak for Hecate.

It's you she'll destroy.

You had the stupidity
to put on that ring.

Imagine the feeling when
your heart ages decades...

in a matter of seconds...

and finally jams up
like an old clock.

Well, how can Hecate accept me?

I mean, I'm not a perfect
sacrifice. Far from it.

As I said before, I don't think
you're qualified to speak for the gods.

As a matter of fact, I'm not the
first imperfect offering you've made.

Did you know that William
Cubby wore this? It's a glass eye.

- You're lying.
- No.

No, I'm not lying,
but I think Willy Cubby was.

See, he didn't say anything
to you at all, huh?

Ha-ha! You made fools of the gods!

Hecate! Hecate!

I took some pictures,
but it seemed pointless.

The destruction of the room would be labeled
vandalism or a faulty sprinkler system.

I don't need any
photographs of Helen.

You see, she would always be
as she always was...

Cold and beautiful
and unchanging.

Uh... Oh, as a postscript,
I offer this bit of advice.

Should you ever find a ring,
no matter how pretty or valuable,

consider well before
you slip it on your finger.

You may never get it off again.