The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986) - full transcript

Radio DJ Vanita 'Stretch' Brock's open request night is plagued by the annoying phone pranking of two road tripping, party-hard, hoodlums, but things take a disturbing turn when the hoodlums meet their demise at the hands of familiar chainsaw wielding maniacs. With the entire gruesome ordeal recorded on tape, Stretch seeks out the help of a former Texas Marshall who's on a personal quest of vengeance against this family of cannibals. While at first he turns her down, he eventually decides to use her tape to his advantage, asking her to air it during her request block- effectively baiting the cannibals to the radio station where he'll personally deal with them.

(NARRATOR SPEAKING)

(WHOOPING)

(LAUGHING)

(WHOOPING)

- Oh, yeah!
- Hook them horns, baby!

We are on our way
to the biggest party of the world.

Yeah!

(ROCKMUSIC PLAYING ON RADIO)

(PHONE RINGING)

Red River Rock 'n' Roll Request Line.
This is Stretch.

WOMAN: That's for Glen.



And could you tell the girls
at Mesquite High just to leave him alone?

STRETCH: Got it, and I believe it.
Glen is off-limits now.

This is Stretch on an open request line
on K-OKLA in Burkburnett, Texas,

Red River Rock 'n' Roll, from the tip-top
of the Dallas Fort Worth Metroplex.

(ROCKMUSIC PLAYING)

Heck, let's give Stretch a call
and see what she says.

(LAUGHING) What kind of name
is Stretch?

No idea.

(PHONE RINGING)

Red River Rock 'n' Roll Request Line.
This is Stretch.

BUZZ: Yo, Stretch!
It's the one and only Buzz.

And Rick the Prick!

(LAUGHING)

And from all the senior boys
at Wheeler High to all the senior girls,



who are so stuck-up, play
You're on the road to nowhere.

No, you mean,
We're on the road to nowhere.

No, baby.

We're on the road
to Texas-OU Weekend in Dallas!

You're on the road to nowhere!

Hook them horns, baby!

(WHOOPING)

Real funny, guys.

Okay, you wanna hang up now?

Tying up the line. Hey, come on.

- No way, baby!
- We got a lot more requests!

Hey, check it out, dude.

BUZZ: Let's play a little chicken
with the farmer here.

(BOTH WHOOPING)

- Come on, baby! Come on!
- Come on!

(LAUGHING)

Come on, man.

(HORN HONKING)

(BOTH LAUGHING)

(BOTH LAUGHING)

Come on!

(BOTH WHOOPING)

(HORN HONKING)

(WHOOPING)

- Hot damn!
- Hook them horns!

That was great! That was great!

You got that, babe? Hot line?

Buzz: You better stick with us, baby!

(BOTH LAUGHING)

Yeah. Later, sports. Just hang up, okay?

BUZZ: No way!

(LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY)

Hook them horns!

(WHOOPING)

- L.G.!
- Damn it, I'm trying, darling.

Don't call me darling, damn it.

(LAUGHING)

(ROCKMUSIC PLAYING ON RADIO)

(EXCLAIMS )

It's 8:11, Texas-time, on a Friday night.

I know nobody's listening
because y'all are all zooming,

but I got a shot of hot rock 'n' roll
for you anyway.

(PHONE RINGING)

(ROCKMUSIC PLAYING)

K-OKLA, Red River Rock 'n' Roll Request.

What it is, Stretch? This is the Buzz again.

Not again. Hang it up, lame-o.
Go call your mother.

Yeah, yeah, talk dirty.
But this is for Rick the Prick.

He wants to hear "Bright Lights, Big Titties."

Wrong. I don't want to hear it.
I want to see it!

Bright lights, big titties!

(EXCLAIMS )

L.G.? L.G., get in here, please.

(RICK CHEERING)

(HORN HONKING)

What the fuck?

Are you crazy?

Back up, pig fucker!

Come on. Hurry up. Get out of here!

- RICK: Oh, my God!
- They gotta hang up.

RICK: Step on it!

- Shit! What the fuck?
- Come on, hurry up!

STRETCH.: Hang up!

(LEATHERFACE YELLING)

- What the hell is that?
- Look, it's some kind of geek.

- BUZZ: The geek's got a...
- Come on. What is that?

- BUZZ: Shit!
- Come on. Get out of here.

- Where'd he come from?
- I don't believe this shit!

RICK: Just keep driving. Come on.

- Hey, let's go. Come on.
- BUZZ: What the hell is that?

- Go on! What's he doing?
- BUZZ: God damn it!

What's he got there?

BUZZ: Jesus Christ!

- What?
- Come on. What is that?

- I don't believe this shit!
- Come on!

RICK: You can do it! Come on!

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God!

(RICK SCREAMING)

- Holy shit!
- RICK: Come on, get out of here!

RICK: He's got a fucking chainsaw!

(RICK YELLING)

(RICK SCREAMING)

(HOOTING)

(BOTH SCREAMING)

- Sounds like a buzz saw.
- Buzz saw?

Hey, hang up, man.

Hang up. Hang up, hang up, hang up,
hang up, hang up, hang up, hang up!

Get him. Shoot the bastard. Get him. Shit!

(HOOTING)

Fuck! Shoot that motherfucker, yeah!

(LAUGHING)

(GRUNTING)

Shit! Keep back! God!

Son of a bitch! Shit!

(BOTH SHOUTING)

(GUN FIRING)

Missed us, assholes.

(SCREAMING)

(CAR CRASHING)

What? It just cut off.

Did you do that? What happened?

It's like super feedback.

Just put the underwoofer
across the overflapper.

I don't know.

Just went dead air.

MAN 1: I want the license plate.
MAN 2: No problem.

All right, now, ease up here.

MAN 2: You go get your pictures.

Watch out, Bob.

MAN 2: All right,
keep the tension on that line.

MAN 3: Hey, loosen that chain.
We need some slack.

MAN 2: Easy. Easy.

(SIREN BLARING)

You, get out of there!

WOMAN ON RADIO: Three-zero.

Cowboy, get away from there.
This is an accident scene.

The area is restricted.

- Not gonna tell you...
- It's all right. It's all right, Wendell.

Lieutenant Enright, sir.

We heard you might be headed this way.
Did you come over for the big game?

You know why I'm here.

Yes, sir,
something about the chainsaw killers,

your brother's kids killed.

But that was 14 years ago, sir,
way down in South Texas.

Now, these are other kids.

This is just an accident.

Just a couple of wild punks
out raising hell.

Yep.

One of those boys is so wild
sawed his own head off

going 90 mile per hour.

(CHUCKLES)

Hell.

Hell's exactly what they raised.

No, sir, that information's off the record.

You know, sir, this is always
a pretty hairy weekend for Dallas.

Whole lot of folks come to town
and don't give a damn about football.

You know, they just wanna go blood crazy
for a few and riot.

You know what "riot" means.
You were a Ranger.

I can't hardly keep them down by law,
and if...

If you go around
promoting this chainsaw...

Try to speak plain.

Saves time.

(GRUNTS)

I have authority

from the DA's office to put you
right back on the next plane to Amarillo.

Well, you just do that, son.
I'd like to see that authority.

All right, Lieutenant Enright,
what's your deal?

All right.

I'm gonna ask some questions.

Put it in the press. Get it in the news.

Any information about this accident

and maybe some witnesses.

Yes, sir,
I know some old boys at the paper.

We'll get your story out for you.

Brazos.

Brazos.

Brazos!

Remember the Alamo, cowboy.

(ALL LAUGHING)

(ROCKMUSIC PLAYING ON RADIO)

MAN 1: I won!

(MAN WHISTLING)

MAN 2: Come on!

Asshole.

(WHOOPS)

You need a witness? I'm a witness.

This Mercedes? I think I was talking
to those kids when it happened.

No way was that an accident.

- You saw it.
- No, but I heard it.

You can listen. It's here on tape.

(LAUGHING)

Regulations.
We gotta record all the call-ins.

End of the night, we wipe the tapes,

but I kept this one just 'cause...
It just got to me.

We got professionals working on this...

I didn't know what I'd heard,
but I read your story.

- What you're looking for is on this tape.
- ...so don't fool with it.

You can slow it down now.

STRETCH: Um...

You're just a joke in this morning's paper.

"Cowboy chases Chainsaws 14 years."

"Dallas police refuse comment."

Like you're, you know,
hung up on something crazy.

But I believe you.
I might be the only believer you got.

- Cause it's right here.
- What is?

Right on here, those kids getting killed.

Now, this is evidence, sort of, right?

Yeah, it's time for you to go home.

- No, wait a minute, wait a minute.
- Come on.

Look, I came here
because I thought I could help you.

I deejay this dumb show
on K-OKLA up in Burkburnett,

but people listen to me
all across North Texas.

Now, I could put you on the radio,

get people to believe you,
get you some help.

You're gonna get in my way.

- Don't you get in my way.
- No, I'm already right in the middle of this.

This is my chance
to stop playing head-banging music

and do something real.

Well, I don't need anybody
to stand with me,

all right?

You can't do it alone.

(ENRIGHT CHUCKLES)

I got a perfect willingness to die.

That gives me a moral
on this bunch of mad dogs.

They live on fear. They thrive on it.

I ain't got no fear left.

(SPEAKS SPANISH)

I ain't got no fear, Lord.

(COUNTRY MUSIC PLAYING ON STEREO)

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

(MUMBLING INDISTINCTLY)

- Hardass.
- Hardass? Me?

Well, maybe a semi-hardass,
but I got a soft heart.

Looky.

- Built you a little fry house.
- L.G.!

What, darling?

Oh, L.G.

(TRIANGLE RINGING)

Okay, everybody, hush up. Listen up, y'all.

The Texas-OU Chili Cook-off champion is

from Norman, Oklahoma? No.

(PEOPLE CHEERING)

Waco, Texas? Mmm-mmm.

Tulsa? Nope.

- Pardon me.
- Austin? Uh-uh.

He's Dallas' favorite caterer.
I think he's kind of cute.

The Last Round-up Rolling Grill Chef,

Drayton Sawyer!

(ALL CHEERING)

(PEOPLE WHISTLING)

Drayton!

ALL: Drayton! Drayton! Drayton! Drayton!

WOMAN: Way to go, Drayton!

It's the second year in a row.
This year, Drayton,

you've got to tell the secret
of that fabulously tasty chili!

No secret. It's the meat.

Don't skimp on the meat.

I got a real good eye for prime meat.

Runs in the family.

(CHUCKLING)

(EXCLAIMS)

It's one of those hard-shell peppercorns.

(PEOPLE LAUGHING)

I gotta say, I love this town.

This town loves prime meat!

(PEOPLE CHEERING)

(ALL APPLAUDING)

So there's the big story.
Texas clobbers Oklahoma in chili.

This is Stretch, your fearless reporter,
live from Dallas.

(MARCHING BAND PLAYING)

(MAN SPEAKING ON RADIO)

STRETCH: Now, be sure to watch
your drinking and driving

on this wild and woolly
Texas-OU Weekend.

This is Stretch, on K-OKLA...

(PHONE RINGING)

Cut-Rite.

No, C.L., I ain't seen Fletcher.

Well, last Friday.

Well, hell, he's on the road, then.

Well, don't believe me, then. Fine.

C.L.

No.

I'll be with you in just a minute, sir.

Now, you're getting
as mean as a sting bat, C.L.

CLERK: No, hell, don't call back.

No, don't you call back.
I got a business here,

and Fletcher ain't none of my business.

Damn!

(MUSIC PLAYING ON RADIO)

What can I do you for?

Well, don't you wanna test them?
There's gas in them.

Get them suckers a time or two.

(MOTOR WHIRRING)

Oh, my kid banana.

Damn, what is he doing?

(CLERK LAUGHING)

Now, this is very hard to believe.

I'd like you to play that tape, missy.

Come all the way up here to Burkburnett.
No shit!

Yeah.

Oh, you wanna hear it now.

I wanna hear it on the radio.

On your show.

Uh-uh.

I don't think it'd be legal to do that.

FCC regulations, those things.

Well, you just figure out how to do it
and do it.

You bend the rules. I don't know.

(CHUCKLES)

- Why?
- Because the killers are here.

Kill sites have been clustered all over
Northeast Texas the last two years.

The laws, they shy away
from piecing it together as murder.

They call it accidents, disappearances.

You got that last slaughter on tape.
You play it on the radio.

Maybe then, the laws will stop trying
to shut me up and start helping me.

Besides, it'll give you
something real to do.

You said you were gonna do this alone.

(SIGHS)

I need your help, missy.

Well,

you can call me Stretch, Mr. Enright.

Well, now, you can call me Lefty.

It's mighty nice doing business with you.

- Thanks.
- All right.

You have a nice day, now.

You, too.

(COOK LAUGHING)

Number one again!

Drayton did it again. Number one.

Number one!
The Sawyers are number one!

(LAUGHING)

Number one.

(RADIO SHOW THEME PLAYING)

So here's a special request
we're doing this afternoon and tonight.

You steady listeners know
we're playing this every hour.

This is for Lefty.

BUZZ.: Hog fucker! Son of a bitch!

(CHAINSAWBUZZING)

(PHONE RINGING)

(LAUGHING)

Last Round-up Rolling Grill.
We're still number one.

I told you, boys, and Hold you.

Don't call on this phone.
Now, damn it, get off.

What? What's on the radio?

Now, don't bullshit me. I can't...

I won't... All right, what station?

This ain't no joke, boy?

Then I'm tuning it in.

BUZZ: Hog fucker! Son of a bitch!

(CHAINSAWBUZING)

You two nap-haired idiots.

You've done it again!

You coon shits! You fudge-packers!

You'll be the death of me yet!

(LAUGHING)

(CHAINSAW WHIRRING)

RICK: Missed us, assholes.

(PHONE RINGING)

(RICK SCREAMING)

K-OKLA.

Come on, Lefty. Where are you?

(CAR CRASHING)

This concludes the broadcast day
for K-OKLA in Burkburnett, Texas,

Red River Rock 'n' Roll.

In New York, it's 1:00 a.m., still fun city.

In LA, 10:00 at night, party time.

But deep in the heart of Texas,
it's 12:00 midnight.

Ain't nothing going on.

(STAR-SPANGLED BANNER PLAYING)

It's another cussing caller.

Your little ass is gonna be
in big trouble over that tape, girl.

Nope.

(SIGHS)

Sure got a lot of complaints, darling.

(SIGHS)

L.G., it was a request, right?
It's listed in the logs as a request.

People complain
about the request every night, right?

Uh-huh.

Wanna go for coffee at Big State?

Nope.

Huh, I guess you're waiting
on this guy, Lefty?

L.G.

(SIGHS)

Night, L.G.

Good night.

God damn it!

(HAWKS)

(ROCKMUSIC PLAYING)

Shit!

(PHONE RINGING)

K-OKLA, this is Stretch.

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Hello, Lefty?

(PHONE CLICKS)

(DIAL TONE DRONING)

(METAL CLANGING)

(DOOR OPENS)

L.G.?

(CLATTERING)

Lefty?

Lefty?

(CHOP-TOP GROANING)

I wanna...

I wanna buy some radio-ad time.

Are you fucking crazy? We are closed!

Off the air till tomorrow.
You'll have to just come back.

No, but... But, yeah, but...

(EXCLAIMS)

So this is radio land, huh?
The infinite turnover?

The waves through
the ether fuzz roll on forever.

(MIMICKING ROAR)

Can't close that.
Hi, I know what you're thinking.

"This is weird. Hope I can handle it."

(LAUGHS)

You know,

you're my fave.

Me and Bubba, my little brother,
we listen to you every night.

Music is my life.

You know, you're my fave,

but I get too embarrassed
to phone in my request.

It's too disembodied, you know?

But

(FLESH SIZZLING)

...now that we're here in flesh and blood,

I could maybe make a request,
and it'd still count, huh?

Uh-huh. Sure. Mmm-hmm.

Well, what about

Iron Butterfly?

(LAUGHING)

You know, like "In-A-Vida-Da-Gadda, Baby?"

Oh, it's heavy! You know,

I've never been to a radio station before.

Do you think you could do me a tour, huh?

Tour?

Tour. Sure. Mmm-hmm, sure.

But seriously quick,
and it ends at the exit sign.

Oh, boy! Okay, yeah, sure!

Okay, your tour. Here's your tour.
Here's your tour. Here's a lamp.

Yeah, lamp.

Here's a typewriter.

(EXCLAIMS)

- Rubber man.
- Uh-huh. Rubber man. I like him.

Armadillo. Here's Mr. Shark.

Oh, Mr. Shark!

(LAUGHING)

- Here's some flowers.
- Flowers.

- Rolodex.
- Rolodex.

Here's a lamp.

(GRUNTS)

And there's the exit sign. Tour's over.

(CHUCKLING)

(CHOP-TOP COUGHS)

" E-X-I-T."

"Exit."

- Good night.
- Oh! Good night!

Good night!

Good night.

(FLESH SIZZLING)

Good night!

(IN HIGH-PITCHED VOICE) Good night.

(CHUCKLING)

Hey, what about my request?

You know,

that Lefty-request record

that you honked out today?

I love that!

Let's see.

(MIMICKING BUZZER)

(MIMICKING GUN FIRING)

(SCREAMING)

(CHUCKLING)

What was it, anyway?
The " Rambo III" soundtrack?

(GRUNTS)

Gonna play it again?

(COAT HANGER SCREECHING)

Sure would like it.

Hey, maybe I could get a copy,

and you could autograph it.

To a far-out fan!

(CHUCKLES)

- What's in here?
- Record vault.

Oh, where you keep the golden oldies?

And maybe...

Maybe the new music's in...

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

Not me, you dumb-ass!

Get the girl! Get the girl!

(SCREAMING)

(LEATHERFACE GRUNTING)

(SCREAMING)

(EXCLAIMING)

He dented my plate! My brain is burning!

Nam flashback! Nam flashback!

(GROANING)

Leatherface, you bitch, I'll...

Look what you did
to my Sonny Bono wig-do.

Oh, God damn, I can't believe it!

You gonna have to buy me
a new plate cover!

You gonna have to buy me
a new plate cover, Leatherface.

(CHAINSAW WHIRRING)

(GROANING)

He's gonna send me back
to the VA Hospital

with this dent in my plate.

(GRUNTING)

Well, at least he didn't mess me up.

Dog will hunt. Get that bitch, Leatherface.

Get that bitch!

(LAUGHS)

Dog will hunt.

(LEATHERFACE YELLING)

(SCREAMING)

Go away!

Shit. Humble Pie!

(LAUGHING)

Hurry up, Leatherface. Hurry up.
Get that bitch!

Go away!

(EXCLAIMING)

(CHUCKLES)

Music is my life!

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

(GROANING)

They live on fear. They live on fear.
They live on fear.

(MUSIC PLAYING ON RADIO)

(MIMICKING DRUMS BEATING)

(SINGING)

Stretch, darling,
you know the door's unlocked?

(CLATTERING)

Hey!

What the shit?

Hey! Lick my plate, you dog dick!

What the fuck you think
you're doing in here,

you crazy-looking little son of a bitch?

Get out of here!

(L.G. SCREAMING)

(L.G. SHOUTING)

(CHUCKLES)

Time for incoming mail!

(LAUGHING)

Ho Chi Minh!

(L.G. YELLING)

A-one and a-two and a-three!

(LAUGHING)

Go, you little bitch!

(CHAINSAW WHIRRING)

(SCREAMING)

(CHAINSAW SCRAPING)

(SOBBING)

(RATTLING)

(SCREAMING)

Go away! Leave me alone!

(GASPING)

(STRETCH GASPING)

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

(MIMICKING SCREAMING)

(LAUGHING)

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

No, no, no, no! God, no, please don't!

Incoming mail!

No, no, no!

No, no, no, please, God, no!

(CHAINSAW WHIRRING)

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

No, no, no, please, God! Please, God, no!

No!

No, no, no, please, God! Stop it! God, no!

No, no, please, God!

(PANTING)

Are you mad at me?

How mad at me are you?

(SOBBING)

You're not really mad at me.

(GASPING)

How good are you?

Huh?

(LEATHERFACE GASPING)

CHOP-TOP: Get that bitch, Leatherface!
Get that bitch!

(WHISPERING) How good

are you?

Oh.

Really?

Are you really, really

good?

Are you really good?

You're really good.

(GRUNTING)

(WHISPERS) You're the best.

Oh, no.

(SCREAMING)

(CHAINSAW WHIRRING)

(SCREAMING)

No! No!

Please don't kill me!

No, God!

No, please, God!

(GRUNTING)

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

No, God!

Oh, God! Oh, God!

Leatherface.

(CHOP-TOP LAUGHS)

Did you get her, Bubba?
Did you get that bitch?

She was my fave, but she knew.

And now, nobody knows.

Look what you did to my plate, you bitch!

You got her? Did you get her good?

Slap me five.

(CHUCKLING)

I got one, too.

A bonus body!

(LAUGHING)

Look at that beef.

Help me get it out of here.

CHOP-TOP: Whoa.

Ooh!

(CHUCKLING)

Giddyup!

(BICYCLE HORN HONKING)

No, they'll get away.

No, no, they'll get away.

They can't get away.

(ENGINE STARTING)

God damn it, Lefty. You're late.

Damn it, Lefty.

(GASPING)

No!

(SOBBING)

ENRIGHT: Stretch!

Lefty?

(SCREAMS)

Stretch!

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

Hold on!

Grab onto something. Hold onto it.

Lefty, they came! Where were you?

I had to do it. Damn, I used you, girl.

I'm here now. Grab hold of this.

Grab hold of this, now.
Don't you cry, little sister. I'm here now.

Come on, I'm here now. You can get it.
Come on, now.

You got it. Come on.

(GROANS)

Come on! Grab it!

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

(SOBBING)

(SCREAMING)

(GASPING)

(SCREAMS)

Oh, my God.

Oh, Lord, help me beat this stranger
that walks beside me,

that takes away my strength.

Lord, you show me the end.

Show me what I fear
so I don't fear it no more.

(SCREAMING)

It's the devil's playground.

(WHIRRING)

I'm bringing it down! Down to hell!

Bring it all down!

Bring it all down!

(SCREAMING)

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

COOK: I hate to say it,

but that hillbilly hog you boys got earlier
is the tops tonight.

CHOP-TOP: That's mine! Mine!
Not Bubba's. Me! Me!

Bust it up!

Wanna go to the movies?

No crowds.
Everybody's at the football parties.

COOK: Tonight's a washout.

Biggest meat-eater weekend of the month,
and we're gonna lose money on it.

Damn it all! Maybe we just ought to quit.

CHOP-TOP: Oh, yeah? Kiss my plate,
Mr. Big Shot. Maybe you forgot.

This chromedome
bankrolled this food business.

No lucky goof with a machete,
no head wound.

No head wound,
no fancy rolling grill a-go-go.

Ain't no fool. Kiss it. Don't forget it.

(WHIRRING)

Peel that pig and slice him thick.

- That's my sweet pea.
- Get them hogs on the grill.

Big, big pre-game brunch tomorrow
means a ton of croissant sandwiches.

Oh, I love this town.

Hey, you nitwit,
get back in here and get that grill going.

(ELECTRIC KNIFE WHIRRING)

(GRUNTING)

(BUZZING)

(MOANING)

(BUZZING)

(FLY BUZZING)

(MOANING)

(BUZZING)

(FLESH TEARING)

(CRYING)

(GRUNTING ANGRILY)

(SCREAMS)

(SOBBING)

(GRUNTING)

No. No. No good.

No good.

No good.

(GROANING)

Come on, Bubba. Cook's out here,
and he's chewing ass like it was steak.

"You gotta run for that money now."

"Chase that dollar.
Gotta go fast to catch it."

You dumb baboozer.
Too dumb to even close the door.

I'm tired of kicking your asses.

What are you doing?
You trying to hide something?

(LEATHERFACE GRUNTING)

Get that eyeball pậté working.

Hey, you coon shit, where are you going?

COOK: We need the club sandwiches...

(WHISPERING) Help. Help me. Please.

Please, help me.

Can you help me get out of here?

Can you help me get out of here?

What is it? Put that down. Put that down.

Put that down.

What is that?

Is it wet? It's wet. Put it down.

(SOBBING)

(CRYING)

(LEATHERFACE GRUNTS)

(STRETCH GRUNTING)

(CRYING)

(GROANS)

(STRETCH SOBBING)

(GROANING)

(GASPING)

(GRUNTING)

(SOBBING)

(EXCLAIMING)

(L.G. GRUNTING)

(SCREAMING)

(GRUNTS)

(SOBBING)

(HAWKS)

My darling.

(SOBS)

Darling?

Darling?

Don't be scared, darling.

(SCREAMING)

STRETCH: Oh, no, L.G.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

L.G.!

STRETCH: Oh, my God!

L.G., they got you, too?

Oh, L.G.!

(L.G. HAWKING)

(L.G. SPITTING)

We gotta get y'all loose.

(L.G. GRUNTING)

I guess I'm falling apart on you, honey.

(STRETCH SOBBING)

L.G.: No.

No.

(SIGHS)

Shit.

(SOBBING)

L.G.,

I love you.

(RUMBLING)

(CHOP-TOP LAUGHING)

COOK: So he says,

"Hey, get me those lawyers. Legal meat."

CHOP-TOP: Legal meat, yeah!

COOK: Bubba, you idiot!
Get your ass over here.

- You fucked up again.
- CHOP-TOP: You fucked up again.

COOK: He says,
"Hey, get me those lawyers."

"Legal meat, y'all."

Fuck me in the left eye!

(COOK LAUGHING)

COOK: Valuable kill-time wasted running
down them cooped-up pencil necks,

and not a good chop on the whole bunch.

I pick the vittles. Get it?

- I. Me. Nobody but...
- CHOP-TOP: I pick the vittles, I.

COOK: Bubba, you hull wreckage!
CHOP-TOP: Me. Nobody but...

COOK: Busted again, huh?
That's the main support beam.

(CREAKING)

Fuck, you idiots! You both will pay!

(LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY)

Both of you... You're both...

Look what your brother's done now.
You coon shit.

COOK: You cut the main support beam.
And this is what happens.

Of course this is what happens.

That big brute!

Dirty meat don't cut it.

Family standards only require
the best meat in town.

More money lost.

I never, never, never get a break.

Work, work night and day,

presenting myself to the people,
selling, selling.

You pair of prima donnas fooling around
here and listening to the radio all day

and sawing down your own house.

(BUZZING)

Take it all down!

Bring it all down!

Bury the devil!

May the Lord have mercy on our souls!

(SCREAMING)

Get that thing out of here.

Maybe it cracked the main butane tank.

It's up there. Go look at it.

Taxes. Taxes.

Damn property taxes fuck up everything.

COOK: Crooks don't pay taxes.
Politicians don't.

Movie stars don't.

It's the little guy that can't make a dime.
He pays the taxes.

Small businessman gets it in the ass
every time.

COOK: I ought to quit.

CHOP-TOP: Right, it's junk. Quit.
Dump this cook show.

Sell off this turkey. It's time. It's in the air.

It's what the public wants.

I don't wanna hear that again.

It's Nam Land!

(STRETCH SCREAMS)

(CHOP-TOP EXCLAIMING)

CHOP-TOP: What the hell was that?

(IN HIGH-PITCHED VOICE)
I don't know, boy.

It looked like a big, big fireball.

(LAUGHING)

Nam Land.

CHOP-TOP: Napalm.

Fire in the hole.

(WHOOPS)

COOK: That's the main butane tank
up there, Bubba.

Go look at it. Get your butt moving, boy.

Go up there and look at it. Go look at it.

- I'll kick you in the ass again.
- Not now. It's Nam Land.

- It's a hit. It's a bang. It's a smash.
- Shut him up, Bubba.

Did you see it?

Well, did you? Didn't you?

Did you? Didn't you?

Go check it out, boy.

- Nam Land!
- Oh, shut up!

(SNICKERING)

I told you to go check it out, boy,
before I start kicking your ass.

Some kind of crazy booger
just skipped through here.

No, a booger? How big?

A big crazy booger. Let's haul butt, bro.

(BUZZING)

Oh, my God.

Oh, God.

Franklin.

Don't you cry, my brother.

I'm here now.

I'm here now.

They can't do this.

They can't do this!

(CHAINSAW BUZZING)

They can't do this! They can't do this!

I'll take you back to hell!

I'll take you to hell!

(SOBBING)

(CRYING)

(CHAINSAW WHIRRING)

(SCREAMING)

(SCREAMING)

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

All right, all right!

Let's talk about it.

Okay. What, are you pissed-off?
What about me?

Listen, this is not gonna work out.

(SOBBING)

I'm trying to be open with you.
It's nobody's fault. I just can't do this.

Let me go.

Let me go.

COOK: What the hell's going on here?

Uh-oh.

Bubba, you nap-haired idiot.

Get out of here.

Who's this? I get it.

Are you the saboteur
that's fucking up our house?

(COOK LAUGHING)

COOK: Trying to put me out of business?

Thousands of dollars lost.

You got that kind of money? No!

It's the deejay. My fave.

That dirty thing?

COOK: Told me you boys got her.

CHOP-TOP: Well, yeah.

Leatherface killed her
once already tonight.

But look, she's red-faced.

Bubba's been playing with her.
Bubba likes her.

Bubba's got a girlfriend.

(SINGSONGING) Bubba's got a girlfriend!
Bubba's got a girlfriend!

Bubba's got a girlfriend!
Bubba's got a girlfriend!

Bubba's got a girl...

(LAUGHING)

COOK: Is that what this is, Bubba?

The old cock-and-cunt swindle, huh?

S-C-E-X. Sex.

And you had to find out about it,
didn't you?

COOK: You just couldn't leave it alone.

If you wanted to know about it so bad,
why didn't you ask me?

You wanna know about it?
You wanna know about it?

Ask me. Ask me.

It's a swindle, that's all.
So don't get mixed up in it.

Help me. Help me.

Help me.

Please, help me. Please.

Help me.

Please, help me.

All right, Miss Priss, cut that out.

Leave him alone, damn it!

Bubba, you were supposed to finish her.
Finish her now.

- Burn her like a rat.
- Finish her.

- Burn her like a rat!
- Finish her now.

Burn her like a rat!
Burn her like a rat, rat, rat!

- Burn her like a rat!
- Finish her now!

- Finish her now, Bubba!
- Burn her like a rat!

COOK: Finish her!
CHOP-TOP: Finish her. Finish her.

Give me that.

Turn traitor for a piece of tail.

You got one choice, boy, sex or the saw.

Sex is, well, nobody knows.

But the saw, the saw is family.

- The saw is family.
- Wait till Granddad hears about this.

Take her away.

- She's in the garbage now.
- Oh, no.

- Oh, no.
- A-one

and a-two

and three!

No!

(SCREAMING)

Dinnertime, damn it! Let's go.

Eat and run. Eat and run.

There's a lot of hungry football fans
to feed.

Hurry it up. Grandpa likes to go fast.

He always did. Come on. Come on.

Time eats money.

(LAUGHING)

Those damn coon shits
are the weight of the family.

I stoop my shoulders
taking care of my younger brothers.

It squashed the young years out of my life

like a can of cheese whip.

(BELL RINGING)

I wouldn't wish this rotten life off
on a one-eyed ferret with mange.

You're the first girl
Bubba's brought home to dinner.

This is a real special occasion.

Grandpa sure looks forward
to meeting you.

He's 137 years old
but still as fast as Jesse James,

so don't you worry none.

Here comes Grandpa now.

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

God bless you, Grandpa.

(SINGSONGING) Oh, it's playtime!
It's dinnertime!

Your little boys
have some left here for you.

Yes, no, yes, no!
Yes, we do!

We love you!
We love you!

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

CHOP-TOP: Okay, now. Take it easy, now.
Take it easy with Grandpa.

- That's right. That's right.
- COOK: Get him over here easy, now.

CHOP-TOP: That's right. Okay.
GRANDPA: Come on, you boys.

CHOP-TOP: Easy with Grandpa, now.

- CHOP-TOP: Oh, easy with Grandpa.
- No! No!

STRETCH: Oh, please, no.

Don't rattle him like that, damn it!

You're balling up his shit.

No!

Grandpa's strict liquid diet
keeps him as fresh as a rose.

Every spring,

the Atlas Rendering Company
used to throw a big barbecue for Grandpa.

Oh, he was the master.

He was the one and only.

He showed us all the business.

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

We was raised in meat.

(LAUGHING)

But then after the glory,
here comes the shame.

Atlas went for automation.

The electrified cages,

the cold-steel chutes,

the air-powered head hammers.

That drove Grandpa crazy,
seeing things done like that.

Let me go! Let me go!

No, no, that's all right. That's all right.
It'll be over soon.

(MOANING)

Get the hammer.

Get the hammer.

The crunching and the grinding,

he just couldn't stand it, no way.

COOK: So that was all she wrote.

One morning, Grandpa just quit going in.

It was the shame.

(WHIMPERING)

It was the shame. The shame.

There's more work to do.
Let's get on with it.

Right. Let's get on with it. Bingo!

Give me that.
Get that tub over there in a hurry.

Do I have to do every damn thing
around here?

You just sit tight.

(SCREAMS)

Bubba, she's ready. Bring her on down.

No!

(SQUEAKING)

- Oh, no!
- Bring her on down, damn it!

STRETCH: No! No!

Bring her on down!

No! No, no, no!

No, no, no!

(SOBBING)

STRETCH: Help me! No, no, no!

Let me go! You gotta let me go!
Let me go! Please, help me!

- This will be one you won't forget.
- Please, help me!

It's a real honor.

Grandpa, he's a one-hitter.

And it's just like going home.

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

Please help me!

- No! No! No, God!
- No, no.

Help me! Let me go!

Let me go! Let me go!

(LAUGHING)

Help me, please!

Please, help me!

Let's go see Grandpa, boy.

No, don't!

- No! No, God!
- Come on. Bring the bitch down.

No! No! No!

No, no, let me go!

Let me go!

Let me go! No! No!

No, no, no!

(CHOP-TOP LAUGHING)

No!

Here come the judge.
Here come the judge.

No!

Now, don't ruin Grandpa's favorite rug.

Be careful of the splatter.
You gotta be careful of the splatter.

Oh, Great-grandma in chainsaw heaven...

No! No! God!

...please don't hoodoo the boy.

Hey, Grandpa, here's the big boy.

Look what Bubba brought you.

Hey, Grandpa,
Bubba's got something to show you here.

Look, a Slurpee booty.

(LAUGHING)

- CHOP-TOP: Hit her, Grandpa.
- Come on, Grandpa.

Let's see you do it. Now, come on.
Come on, Grandpa. You're the best.

- Hit her, Grandpa. Hit her!
- Come on. Hit her, Grandpa.

Come on, I'm telling you...

Remember those thieves?
Come on. One-hitter.

- Come on, Grandpa.
- Hit her. Hit her, Grandpa.

Come on, you won't miss her.

(SCREAMING)

- Come on, Grandpa.
- Come on, Grandpa.

Hit her. Hit that bitch. Hit that bitch.

Come on, Grandpa.

Come on, Grandpa. You can do it.
You're the best.

Come on, there, Grandpa.
Come on, there, Grandpa.

Come on, Grandpa. You can do it.
You're the best.

(STRETCH SCREAMING)

Hit her, Grandpa. Come on, Grandpa.

You're the best, Grandpa.

Hit that bitch, Grandpa. Hit her.

Come on, Grandpa. Hit her.
You are, Grandpa. You're the best.

CHOP-TOP: Yeah!
That's good, isn't it, Grandpa?

Grandpa!

COOK: Attaboy, Grandpa.
CHOP-TOP: Hit that bitch, now, Grandpa.

- Come on, Grandpa. You can do it.
- Get her now, Grandpa. You can do it.

Come on, Grandpa.

(CRASHING)

STRETCH: No! No! No!

No! No! No! No!

No! No!

Hit that bitch. Hit that bitch!

CHOP-TOP: Come on, Grandpa!

(SCREAMS)

Come on, Grandpa!

Oh, Grandpa, let's get on with it.

All right! SIurpee-booty time!

(METALLIC CLANGING)

(CHAINSAW WHIRRING)

(ENRIGHT SINGING)

(CHOP-TOP SINGING ALONG
WITH ENRIGHT)

Oh, shut up!

What the hell's going on here?

(ENRIGHT SINGING)

(CEILING CREAKING)

(SINGING)

Boys, boys, boys.

What the hell's going on here?

Is that the American way of entering
a man's home, singing like that?

Oh, I get it. The old pressure game, huh?

Boys, you never
should have been doing this.

Who sent you?
Those Sissies over at Del-Mar Catering?

COOK: That chickenshit
burrito-man bunch?

(COOK CHUCKLING)

Well, I don't care, you hear?
Yeah, that's right.

It's a dog-eat-dog world.

And from where I sit,
there just ain't enough damn dogs.

If you can't stand the heat,
get out of the damn kitchen.

(CHUCKLES)

How much, huh?
Let's make a deal right here.

Real cash money.

Just you and me, huh?
I don't care who sent you.

I'm the Lord of the Harvest.

Who's that? Some new health-food bunch?

Come on. Come on.

Is there any money in it, you wanna know?

Yeah, right here. How much, huh?
How much?

(CLATTERING)

- Lefty.
- Sister.

Lefty!

Brazos!

(SCREAMING)

Run, sister. Run!

(ENRIGHT GRUNTING)

(LEATHERFACE YELLING)

(YELLING)

(CHUCKLING)

(BOTH GRUNTING)

(GRUNTING)

(EXCLAIMING)

Small businessman

that always, always, always
gets it in the ass!

Sure... Sure took care of my hems.

Saved a trip to the hospital.

Looks... Looks bad.

Sure burned my beads bad on that one.

(LAUGHING)

(LAUGHING)

(GRUNTS)

(SCREAMING)

Maybe it's time to just shut down.

Time to shut down the show, yeah.

Yeah, pull the plug. Come here, nubbins.

Where...
Where's that old "Fuck you, Charlie"?

(SCREAMING)

That little "Just in case, baby"?

Where'd you put it?

Yeah, there it is.

Man... Man builds a good, sturdy trade

by hooking and crooking.

And then, kerplooey!

The gods just kick him right in the balls.

Oh, no, not this time.

(LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY)

No! No!

I got the last laugh right here.

(YELLING)

(SCREAMING)

CHOP-TOP: Going down, now!

(STRETCH SCREAMS)

(LAUGHING)

(GROANING)

(EXCLAIMING)

(LAUGHING)

(STRETCH SCREAMS)

Going down! Going down, now!

(CACKLING)

(CHOP-TOP EXCLAIMS)

(GRUNTING)

Here I come, you hog bitch!

You hog bitch!

Dead end, girl. Dead end now.

Dead-end city.

Look at my face.

Look. Look!

It's like death eating a cracker, isn't it?

Huh? Huh?

No!

Get away from her! Get away!

(EXCLAIMS)

Don't touch her! No!

Grandma!

No!

Grandma! Grandma!

Grandma!

Grandma!

You killed her, you hog bitch!

(STRETCH SCREAMS)

(SCREAMING MANIACALLY)

(CHAINSAW WHIRRING)

Die!

(SCREAMING)