Tales from the Crypt (1989) - full transcript

Hey, cats, I call this one
Painted into a Coroner Blues.

"When I think of you, my heart goes flopsy"

"As I contemplate your sweet autopsy"

"Your skin is green and blue"

"Whatever would I do
without my fine cadaver"

"The love in which I know I'll fall"

"Starts with the unkindest cut of all."

Thank you, thank you.

They don't call me
the creative writing corpse for nothing.

Thank you.

My next poem is a little ex-stair-imental
number I've been working on.



I hope you like it.

It's about a real ghoul dude named Clyde,

who's about to try
a little die-ku of his own

in a vile verse I call "Staired in Horror."

He's got to be
around here somewhere.

We know you're out there,
Clyde. We're gonna get you.

I think he's gone this way.
Come on.

Wait a minute.

You hear me?
You got that, Boudreau!

- Watch yourself.
- Come on, boys.

Let's go.
Shine that light over there.

You boys, come with me.

Come on.

He's gotta be around here somewhere.



Careful now.

Come on.

- Anybody home?
- Yes?

Lady, I'm hurt real bad.
You think you could help me out?

You poor thing.

I wish I could let you
in, but I'm all alone.

That's all right, I understand.

I wouldn't want my own mother opening
the door in the middle of the night.

That's all right. I understand.
I just, I just...

Young man? Mercy!

- Young man?
- Lady, l...

- Well, look at you.
- Damn!

You're an angel, lady. You're a saint.

You gotta help me.

- What is it, son?
- They're after me. They're gonna hurt me.

There was this little girl,
but her daddy don't understand.

And now they've dogs.
They're gonna tear my ass up.

Well, why don't you tell the Sheriff?
I'm sure that he'd help you.

That's the problem.
It's the Sheriff's daughter.

Is that all?

As if romance were a crime.

Oh, sha, my little baby, she's so pretty.

But her daddy, he thinks I'm baseborn,
you know, no good.

He says she's too young for me,
but I don't mind.

I'd think a nice-looking young man
like yourself

would be hanged 30 times over by now.

Hey, this is the law.
You open up in there now.

Don't worry.

I'll protect you.

Hey, you in the house, this is the law.
You open up, hear me?

I'll just tell them you're my husband.

How about just not letting them in?

- All right.
- Check around back there, Harvey.

He tries getting away, you shoot him.
You hear me?

- Yes?
- Hello, ma'am.

We're chasing a young man
down around here.

He's about 6'2".

Got tattoo of a die on his neck,
right about here.

- Have you seen him?
- Tattoo of what?

He's got a tattoo of a die, you know,
seven come eleven.

- Have you seen the guy?
- No, I don't think so. Why?

He's a killer, ma'am,
preys on old people like yourself.

Earlier today, he beat up and robbed
old Chappie Hardy down at the Circle K.

- A little while ago Chappie died.
- Oh, dear.

His name's Clyde Boudreau.

Now, he talks a good line
and he looks almost normal,

but the simple fact is, he's a monster.

Well, I assure you, Sheriff,

I have not seen anybody
that fits that description.

Okay, well, you lock it up tight.

Don't open it up to nobody now,
you hear me?

Yes, sir.

Wouldn't want them arresting
the wrong man now, would we?

Let's have a look at your forehead.

It's nice to see another forehead
other than mine.

I always say it takes a brave man to fight
for something he loves.

Brave or crazy.

My late husband, Harlan Charbonnet...

Lady, do I look like someone who gives
a goddamn about your dead husband?

I don't think so.
Now, where's your car keys?

My what, dear?

The keys to your car.
You got a car, don't you? Your car!

Those things.
I never put much stock in them.

I always say that if the good Lord
had meant us to fly,

- he'd have given us wings.
- Where's your phone?

- What?
- Your phone.

Goddamn. No phone, no car,
how come you ain't dead, lady?

Well, the nice young man Tommy
from Breaux Bridge looks after me.

He does? He comes here?

- Who?
- Tommy.

Tommy? He passed on ages ago.

Crazy old poodoo.

Heavens, where are my manners?
Would you like a drink?

A brandy, perhaps.

That does sound nice.
I think I'll join you.

I know a lady shouldn't,

but for some reason, you've made me feel
young and reckless tonight.

I make you feel...

You're disgusting.

I'm gonna do you a favor, lady.

Now, put that down, please, Clyde.

I know you're desperate.
I know you're not really a killer,

despite what happened to that
poor Mr. Harley down by the Circle K.

Now, I don't think I have to point out,
I wasn't born yesterday.

It's dark and you're lost.

And if you leave right now,

you might bump into your good friend
the Sheriff.

Am I right so far, dear?

I usually am.

There's nothing to be done about it.
You'll just have to stay the night.

Now, you won't do something rash now,
will you?

You need me fit and healthy
to show you the way out in the morning.

You know, Clyde, everybody gets old.

- It's just the way it is.
- Not me.

I'd put a bullet in my brain
before I get old and useless like you.

All right, dear.
Now, call me old-fashioned,

but I'd appreciate it
if you just stayed downstairs.

Young buck like you, I wouldn't want
your visit to be misunderstood.

Goodnight.

This is worse than Morgan City.

To win, you gotta be strong.

Hello?

I knew that old bat didn't live here alone.

Clyde?

Who that?

Are you the old woman's
great-great-granddaughter or something?

Something like that. I trust you have
everything you need down there.

Not yet, but now I know where to find it.

What do they call you, darling?

Lilian Charbonnet. Call me Lily.

- Okay, Lily.
- Not such a good idea.

Why not? You afraid we're gonna
wake up the old mummy?

It's not that, it's...
This house has rules.

Okay. Well, then you come on down here.

I don't know.

It's late.

Come on, sha, I just want to
get a closer look at you.

You promise you won't bite?

Well...

Nope.

- Come to daddy.
- You devil dog.

Why don't you mix us up
a couple of highballs,

- and I'll be right down.
- Yeah, you're right.

Yeah, now, come on here, sha.
I got one for you.

Frisky. Yeah.

Come on, darling,
give me some of that. Yeah.

God! What...

I'm sorry I didn't want to frighten you.

I ain't frightened. I'm like to puke!

Where'd she go? Where's Lily?

Bet she can get me out of here
same as you?

- I'll show you.
- Yeah, you do that.

There's something I should tell you
about Lily.

Why is she dressed like that?

Lily, I just love your dress.

First communion.

Life was simple then.

Thank you.

- That's right.
- Over here.

Who this old fart?

Her husband.

He was so dashing in his uniform.

I'd like to offer a toast

to the most beautiful bride
a man could ever ask for.

- To my Lily.
- Cheers!

- Lilian, darling.
- Cheers.

He was going off to save the world.

She couldn't help it. All alone.

No word from him for months.
No one to tell her she looked pretty.

Then one night this young man
came to the door.

- Is anyone there?
- Yes. May I help you?

Pardon me, pretty lady.

I'm sorry to be bothering you.
I seem to have lost my way.

Oh, my goodness. Are you hurt?
You look famished.

He was hungry.

Please do come in. Come in.

He was beautiful.

That morning her husband came home
without warning

and found them together in bed.

Guilty pig! Get out ofhere!

He took the young man by the throat
and started to drag him down the stairs.

What...

Please, sir, I didn't know. I...

- No, Harlan, no!
- Get offme!

Please, stop!

He would've killed her,

if I hadn't remembered the pistol
in my dresser drawer.

Harlan, stop!

Blood everywhere.

No young man will ever climb
these stairs to your bed again.

He was dying and he cursed me.

"No young man will ever climb
these stairs to your bed again."

"Nor will you descend these stairs
in a shape that pleases men."

- Hey, how'd you do it? With mirrors, right?
- That's right. With mirrors.

See for yourself.

Damn.

"No young man will ever climb
these stairs to your bed again."

You see, my darling, it works both ways.
That's the curse.

Downstairs, I'm too old
and you're too young.

Upstairs, I'm too young and you're too old.

See.

Much better.

But Harlan forgot something.

He forgot that people can make love
on the stairs.

- So are we, like, immortal?
- Something like that.

I thought I was gonna
spend eternity alone.

But now you're mine,
right here, on this step.

Forever.

- Ma'am, it's us again.
- Open up, ma'am.

- Where's the back door?
- We ran out of places to look.

No, Clyde, upstairs.

This place got a fire escape?

- So handsome and so dumb.
- What?

Upstairs, Clyde.
Nobody's looking for an old man.

Upstairs.

Yeah.

I'm coming, Sheriff.

- Are you all right?
- Yeah.

Good boy.

We ain't got all day, ma'am.

- Yes.
- I'm sorry to bother you again, ma'am,

but do you suppose I could come inside?

Well, I'm sorry, Sheriff,

weren't you the one who told me
not to let anybody in?

This is serious now.

The dog keeps circling around,
coming back to this house.

Now, we seem to think that...
Hey, heel, Gator. Heel, boy. Easy, now.

We're thinking that maybe he broke
into the house

and you're not aware of it, ma'am.

- Broke in here?
- Yeah, broke in here.

Sweet Lord!

Hey, settle down now, Gator. Heel!

Are you alone here in the house, ma'am?

There's nobody else here but me
and my man upstairs.

I would dearly like to look around,
if you don't mind.

Chill out, Gator. Settle down!
Give it a break. Easy now.

Honestly, Sheriff, I'm fine.
We're fine, my husband and l.

He hasn't been well.

Well, that Clyde Boudreau now,
he's a wily cuss.

He could've got in this house
and slipped by you

when you were sitting in your parlor.

Settle down now.
We don't have no search warrant.

You got to excuse Gator, ma'am.

He's a real pro,
got a sixth sense about things like this.

Okay, boy, come on, sniff him out!

What's wrong?
Gator, what's wrong with you?

Go! Why do you stop?

Gator!

I'm terribly sorry, ma'am.
I guess my dog got confused.

- It's quite all right, officer.
- Sorry, ma'am.

Thank you for stopping by.

I'll be sure to keep my door locked
just like you said.

Come on, Gator. Here, boy.

Where did Gator go, Harvey?
You just let him run right past you.

We did it, Clyde. They've gone.

Clyde?

Clyde?

Lily!

Lily!

I'm up here.

Clyde? Clyde, you up there?

Help me.

Lily, thank God.

Oh, no!

God!

No!

No! Oh, my God.

I'd put a bullet in my brain
before I get old and useless like you.

Go back.

No!

No!

Poor Clyde.

I guess that's one 12-step program
he could have done without.

Still, you'll be happy to know,
kiddies, that our story has a happy ending.

Clyde did manage, after a couple of years,
to crawl a little way down the stairs

where he waited for Lily
while she gruesome.

You know what they say,
"Age before booty!"

My next poem features a rhyming scream
I think you'll find interesting.

Hey, why don't you sit down?

Excuse me, folks.

Now, that's beat poetry.