Sabrina, the Teenage Witch (1996–2003): Season 3, Episode 17 - Salem, the Boy - full transcript

Toast is up.

That's odd. We weren't
making toast.

Oh, no!

It's a chain letter.

There are no metaphors
in the Other Realm, are there?

Other Realm chain letters
are the worst.

If we don't immediately
send strong iron chains

to 20 other people,
horrible things will befall us.

Okay, so which of my dearest
friends do I hate the most?

Stop right there.

Bad luck is not brought on
by silly superstitions



like chain letters.

You're right. They're
brought on by black cats.

That is a hateful
stereotype.

It's brought on
by midgets in dresses.

Give me that.

We are gonna throw
this chain letter away...

and nothing horrible
will happen.

I'm sure this is
just a coincidence.

( upbeat rock theme playing )

If the in-flight movie's bad,

I'm jumping.

A "B"?
What did you get?

A C-minus?

Wow. This is the first time



I ever got
a better grade than you.

Yep. It's my paper.

"Your characters
are undeveloped,

and your plot
seems contrived."

Of course it's contrived.
I made it up.

Hey. I got a C-plus.
What did you get?

She got a C-minus.

Sabrina got
a C-minus?

Sabrina, the genius,
got a C-minus.

I always feel the minus
part is personal.

I've never gotten
a C-minus in my whole life.

( slow, lethargic
theme playing )

( chortles )

( bell rings )
I got to talk to Mr. Franco.

And remember to floss.

Mr. Franco, I wanted
to talk to you

about this C-minus
I got on my paper.

I'm sure you'll
do better next time.

Well, I'm horribly upset
about it this time.

I've kind of grown
accustomed to getting A's.

They really cushion the blow
when I get a pimple,

or I have to climb
the rope in gym class.

Sabrina, everyone gets
a C once in a while,

and no one can climb
the rope in gym class.

It's there to humiliate people.

I should have trusted my
instincts and taken Metal Shop.

Hey. I got to get to
gym class.

We get to climb
the rope today.

( muffled speech )

So to recap...

You have done nothing to
respond to this chain letter?

You both held
your tongues. Excellent.

You will find the best way
to stop a chain letter

is to simply ignore it.

( both mumbling )

Let's let the professionals
track down the culprit

and bring him to justice.

( speaking incoherently )

You can't lose faith.

Because if I must say so myself,

I think all of us
are doing a pretty good job.

Ladies.

( muffled speech )

Oh. Ah.

Well, we can't catch
everybody now, can we?

( rock theme playing )

Sabrina...is something
bothering you?

You look like I do when I've
accidentally eaten apricots.

Heh. Your larynx hasn't
collapsed, has it?

No. I'm just working hard
on this story.

I got a C-minus on the last one.
I heard.

I'm working hard to prove
it was an aberration.

Oh, then, I'm sure
this one is wonderful.

Uh, let me
hear some.

Okay. Well, it's supposed
to be a genre piece,

so I picked romance.

"Clare looked at Robert,

"and Robert looked at Clare.

"Clare and Robert
were looking at each other.

"Clare didn't
want to fall in love,

"but nothing in her
crazy life made sense,

and she lost all feeling
in her thumbs."

You don't have to be
good at everything.

Well, if it
isn't "C-brina."

Perhaps you can
improve your grades

by studying
in detention.

Detention? What did I do?

Even John Grisham has
to pick up his trash.

Hm, missy?

Or should I say,
Miss-C Minus?

( laughing )

More sugar for your tea?

Oh. Oh! This is
more awkward

than when we had lunch
with The Elephant Man.

Please let me send
the chain letters

and get rid of these
annoying curses. Please.

No! We are taking
the postmaster's advice

and not giving in.

Fine. Then get
your big, fat hand

out of my way.

You get your big,
fat hand out of my way.

Oh!
Oh!

Oh!
Ow!

You broke my big, fat nail.

Hey, shouldn't you be
working on your story?

I'm trying to find
some stupid inspiration

to write my stupid story.

I recommended she watch
this spy movie.

Is this movie
helping you at all?

Well, so far, it's about
a very handsome spy

who drives a sports car with
machine guns in the headlights,

beautiful women, an evil
scientist with an eye patch,

more beautiful women,

and a plot to corner
the uranium market.

But I'm only
ten minutes in.

Maybe you'd be
more inspired

if you had the classic
accouterments of a writer.

Gin, night sweats
and a bad marriage?

I was talking about
my old manual typewriter.

It always used to inspire me
when I was in college.

I think it's still
up in the attic.

Well...

I'll try anything.

Beats sitting around here
with Salem yelling,

"Bring it on, baby," every time
there's a woman on the screen.

Okay. Here
goes nothing.

Hopefully,
a well-written nothing.

Let's see.

International spy, Derek Kink,

has been given
the assignment of stopping--

I need a villain

--Dr. Bad.

Fix that later.

Uh... An evil scientist

bent on taking over
the world...

Ha! I'm good. Wow.

Soon, my face will be on
the side of Barnes & Noble bags.

( thunder crashes )

( laughs )

Hilda!

Go away! I am mailing
these chain letters tonight

and getting rid
of these wolf ears!

No!
Yes!

( siren wailing )

( both howling )

Where were we?

Yes!
No!

Yes!
No!

I aced my story.
I just know it.

I might have blown mine.

I wrote a techno-thriller,
but I set it in the '20s.

C? But that's
impossible!

I typed it on
a manual typewriter.

The same kind
William Faulkner used

when he wasn't passed out
drunk on the veranda.

( bell rings )

Well, if it makes you
feel any better,

I've gotten so many Cs,
my next one's free.

And if it makes you
feel any worse...

I got a B.

Can I talk to you
about this?

Sure.

I thought this story
was better,

but it had some of the same
problems as the first one.

Even though the spy genre
was a good choice,

characters didn't
seem real.

Didn't seem real?

But I based them all
on real people.

I mean, come on,
Dr. Bad, an evil scientist

who kills teenagers
with detention slips of death.

Sound like a certain
"Krafty" vice principal?

You give much thought
to that name, "Dr. Bad"?

W-- And-- And "Derek Kink"?
Harvey Kinkle.

I mean, it was
practically nonfiction.

That's not
character development.

A good writer knows everything
about her characters:

their history, their
strengths and weaknesses,

and what motivates them.

I put it in a nice binder.

Ugh.

Shirt untucked.

I drew straight
from life.

SABRINA:
Dr. Bad?

Here's your detention slip...

of death.

( laughs )

Oh, no. My characters
have come to life.

And that means
that student's about to die.

All I did was wear
my skates to school.

And Mr. Franco said that
my characters weren't real.

I've got to stop Dr. Bad.

( gasps )

( ominous theme playing )

Ah, Lydia.

Lydia
Kissenkill,

my favorite
double agent.
( giggles )

And this is my newest weapon:
Mm.

The pom bomb.

A cheerleader
tosses it at someone,

say, a spy...

and then, rah-rah,
sis-boom.

Oh, dear. His head
came off.

Oh!
( giggles )

It's marvelous what they can do

with a little crepe paper
and plastic explosives.

( giggles )
( cackles )

Oh!

About your crashing GPA.

There's an enrichment program
for remedial students.

They have chocolate milk.
And once a year,

they take a trip
to the zoo.

How did magic get
into my story?

I have to get home
and talk to my aunts.

Valerie.
Vivian.

Oh, right.

Vivian Soontodie,

the beautiful agent
who works with Derek Kink.

And UNICEF.
We have to meet Derek.

I'd love to, but I really
have to get home.

I have a black belt
in 24 disciplines

of Oriental
martial arts.

Then clearly,
I'm coming with you.

Harvey?

Kink's the name.
Derek Kink.

Of the European
Special Service.

( sighs )

Pineapple smoothie?

Derek, we have to
get to our briefing.

Right.
And I have to get home.

Oh. Hey, you're making me
spill my smoothie.

Ah. Mrs. Doohickey.

No time for
niceties, Kink.

We have the special equipment

you'll be needing
for this assignment.

These seemingly
innocent-looking erasers

when clapped together

emit a poisonous gas.

( magic chimes )

Chalk up another success.

Fortunately, the effects
are only temporary.

Well, good luck with
your weapons and poison.

I'll just toddle along.

( shrieks )

You okay?

Yeah. Um, that
last scream

really cleared up
my sinuses.

Are you going
to lunch?

Can't. I got to go home
and figure out...

why I forgot my lunch.

ZELDA:
I don't like this show.
Do you have the remote?

HILDA:
No. I foolishly forgot
to pick it up

before I unexpectedly
grew 8 feet.

I'm going to blame
the altitude

for your rudeness.

The characters
in my story are alive.

Thank goodness my home can be
a shelter from the madness.

HILDA:
Sabrina, could you speak up?

It's hard to hear you
from up here.

The people in my spy story,
they came to life,

and they're running
around my school.

The only way that
could possibly happen

is if you accidentally used
Hilda's magic typewriter,

but she got rid of that
years ago, didn't you, Hilda?

By "get rid of" you don't
mean "kept," do you?

Hilda.

I'm sorry. I know I was
supposed to give it away,

but I just-- I love
writing romance stories

with myself as the heroine, and
then watching them come to life.

It isn't pathetic, is it?

Can we come up
with a solution?

There's a group
of international spies

running around
my school.

And my neck is killing me.

Oh, dear.
What kind of an ending

did you write
for your story?

Well, it was late,
and I was really tired,

so I just had Dr. Bad...

When this bomb goes off,

all the teenagers
will be annihilated,

and everyone will think
they were killed

in a science lab experiment
gone terribly awry.

( laughs )
Dr. Bad,

you are a genius.

An evil genius.
( cackles )

I had him blow up the school.

( both gasp )

When you're working
with a magic typewriter,

you can never let
your characters die.

Well, I didn't know
I was working

with a magic typewriter.

Right. Sorry.

The problem is,
when your characters die,

their real-life
counterparts also die.

Oh. And I just spent
the last two years

foolishly making friends.

I suggest you
go up to your room

and rewrite that ending.

Don't worry.
We'll help you.

How do you plan
for us to get upstairs?

( typewriter clacking )

There. See?

Man, there are a lot
of Frisbees on the roof.

SABRINA:
I've got the ending.

Dr. Bad is about to
blow up the school,

but then
decides not to.

Oh, honey, you can't
just force the ending.

It has to come from
the character's history,

motivated by their
strengths and weaknesses.

That's the same thing
Mr. Franco said,

and I still find it annoying.

You know,
but the good news is,

if you find the right ending,
it practically writes itself.

What is my bra
doing on the roof?

Uh, the squirrels need
a nut feeder.

Sabrina, we can help you
write a new ending.

Try this. Um, Dr. Bad
has captured Derek

and tied him
to a buzz saw.

There's always been
an unpleasant edge

to you, Dr. Bad.

I am killing you
just to stop the puns.

Suddenly, Dr. Bad
turns to Lydia and says...

Turn off the saw.

Why?

Why? Well, the way
the courts

have been cracking down
on evil geniuses lately,

it just wouldn't be practical
for me to kill him.

I'd end up having to pay
a legion of lawyers,

which I'm sure would just wipe
out my entire retirement plan.

That's a terrible
ending.

Thought it was
very contemporary.

You have to come up
with a believable ending,

or your characters
will reject it.

What am I saying?!

Turn the saw
back on!

( cackling )

Fictional characters
can be such prima donnas.

Can we get back to
the ticking bomb

that's gonna vaporize all of
my friends? Not to mention

the only candy machine in town
that has Nutrageous bars.

Right. Try this.

As the other characters
look on helplessly,

Derek Kink and Dr. Bad

are locked in a fight
to the death.

Yes, I have found a worthy
opponent in you, Kink.

Much too worthy to kill.

How about
a square dance instead?

Delightful.

( "Turkey in the Straw"
playing )

What? Ugh. That's a much
worse ending than mine.

It's an unexpected
twist.

Who are you people
to judge my art?

No wonder I'm no good at this.
Look at my gene pool.

A cat could write a better
ending than that.

And will,
if you start typing.

Kink had surprised
Dr. Bad...

You're through,
Dr. Bad.

I-- I--

I would like to ask you
to square dance.
Oh.

( "Turkey in the Straw"
playing )

Salem.
Salem.

Okay. I froze.

Uh-oh.

We're changing again.

Oh.
Whoa.

Whoa.

Whoa.

Had to plant rosebushes
under Sabrina's window.

I figured
something out.

Oh, the ending?

No.

I've figured out
I'm no writer, I'm a doer.

So I'm gonna go
back to school

and solve this
thing myself, in person.

There's a little something
on your teeth, Zelly.

Hey.

No spots.

No wings.

No webbed feet.

Hilda, we've beaten
the chain letter.

I knew I was right to hold out
against that silly superstition.

Actually, I sent out
20 letters this morning.

I was not going to
apply mascara

to my six new eyes.

Oh, well, I have to admit

it's kind of a relief
to be normal again.

I liked being
taller though.

I know. You can wear
anything when you're tall.

( ominous theme playing )

( gasps )

They're loose
in the school again.

I've got to somehow get them
together and disarm the bomb.

Vivian!

Where's Derek?

Huh?

Wouldn't a laptop computer
be more convenient?

Still can't work
Windows 95. Got to go.

if I'm her weird friend,

I must be really weird.

( tense theme playing )

Excuse me. Even
the head cheerleader

can't be in the hallway
without a pass.

Okay. I am having
a h-heart attack,

and I have to fill out
a form...

for the hole.

( scoffs )

Talk about
a glamour don't.

Cat suits went out
six years ago.

( yells )

( screams )

I wouldn't start any
long books if I were you.

( laughs )

Oh, no.

Uh, Dr. Bad's wheelchair

started spinning
out of control like--

Whoa.

Like a wheelchair
spinning out of control.

Run, Harvey.

Oh. Why couldn't it have been
a magic legal pad?

Oh. Mrs. Quick.

Mrs. Quick.

Have you seen
Libby Chessler?

She brought some sort
of lethal laser device

to school today,
and nearly killed me.

Huh?

( magic chimes )

Harvey, have you seen
Sabrina? She's acting--

Is there an afternoon prom
that nobody asked me to?

Lydia.

Oh.

Okay, that was weird.

( panting )

All right.

Don't start whimpering...

until you get to
your office.

Don't start whimpering

until you get to
your office.

( whimpers )

Oh. Mrs. Quick.

I mean, Mrs. Doohickey.
Have you seen Derek?

Who wants to know?

Uh, will you hold
this a second?

Uh, a mysterious blonde spy
asks Mrs. Doohickey

for help in
locating Derek Kink.

Mrs. Doohickey
leads her to him.

Follow me.

Ooh.

Next time, write
that Mrs. Doohickey

carries the typewriter.

( whimper, shrieks )

Don't hurt me.
Oh, God.

Mr. Kraft.

Why are you acting
like a freshman?

Because--

You're not armed?

( clears throat )

In that case,
Miss Chessler,

you are suspended.

What?
Yes.

It's Valerie who needs
to be suspended. She kicked me.

Well, that--

That would explain
your strange behavior.

Miss Birkhead fries.
Come on.

( gasps )
Oh, dear.

Uh, substitute
teacher.

I don't think she looks
like you at all.

The psychic was right.

I was separated at birth.

Oh.

Ah-yah!

Keep her away
from me.

She has poison
chalk dust.

I don't even
have gum.

What is going on
at this school today?

Oh, it's a pretty
normal day, Libby.

Although, I did learn
I have an exact duplicate.

She just ran down the hall
with Sabrina.

You know...every time

anything strange happens
around this school,

the trail always
leads to Sabrina.

Or to janitor Bob.
But we know that Sabrina

is still in
the country. Hm.

Come on.

( suspenseful theme playing )

Derek. Dr. Bad
has planted a bomb.

An explosive
situation.

I know where it is.
Come with me.

Dynamite idea.

And you can cool it
with the puns.

Look, what happened
between us was wrong.

Sabrina's my best friend,
and you're her boyfriend, and--

When did you change
your clothes?

Couple days ago?

Miss Birkhead...

I am suspending you
for attacking Libby.

What?
When did you
change your clothes?

Mr. Kraft, what did you
do with your wheelchair?

What?
Oh, look.

There's Sabrina.

Who's that
with her?

Someone who
looks like...

Harvey?

LIBBY:
And you?

MRS. QUICK:
And me.

Hi!

I could've been
pulling down 80 grand a year

selling gold
over the phone.

But no, I had to teach.

Okay.

Turn it off.

Delighted.

What's the procedure here,
Mrs. Doohickey?

I only make things
blow up.

I don't know how to
stop them from blowing up.

I don't know
which wire to cut.

Oh, no. My characters
don't know what to do.

That's because they don't
know why they're doing

what they're doing.
Darn character development.

Um,...okay.

Derek Kink's father wanted him
to go into the family business:

corn.

But Kink loved science.

Against his family's wishes,

he joined the Bomb Disposal
Unit of the FBI.

Does anyone have a pair

of 178-millimeter
insulated wire cutters?

( sighs )

( ominous theme playing )

( blows )

I believe you are all
my prisoners.

You don't understand.
There's only a few seconds left.

If-- If Derek doesn't
disarm the bomb,

we're all gonna die.

Then we will all
die together.

( cackling )

Sabrina Spellman,
This is Mr. Kraft.

Come out with your hands
behind your head.

DR. BAD:
Don't move.

Well, come on, Kinkle.

A separated shoulder
won't hurt you.

( groans )

DR. BAD:
Hey!

SABRINA:
The wire. The wire.

KINK:
I've got it.

This is all going on your
permanent record, young lady.

The end.

( both grunt )

Three weeks detention,

starting
this afternoon.

( poppy theme playing )

( grits teeth ):
Another happy ending.

So I saved the school
from blowing up,

and I rewrote
my story in detention.

Teacher gave me
a B-minus.

It's not an A,
but it's not a C either.

I always feel the minus
part is personal.

I'm just glad
you realized that

because you're not
great at something

doesn't mean you can't learn
from it and have fun with it.

That's what I always
say about dating.

But I never learn anything,
and I don't have fun.

Wait a minute.

So you're saying
I'm not a great writer?

Well...

you see...
( toaster dings )

Oh, my.
There's toast.

Oh, it's from the
Other Realm postmaster.

He says they caught the person
who started that chain letter,

and he's been
dealt with accordingly.

Good. What kind of a foul
fiend would abuse the mails?

I was just
reaching out to people.

Oh, dear. The postmaster
also says that

because we sent chain
letters ourselves,

we have to be
punished too.

But--

I loved you
in The Wizard of Oz.

Fly. Fly.