The Ray Bradbury Theater (1985–1992): Season 3, Episode 12 - Boys! Raise Giant Mushrooms in Your Cellar! - full transcript
A father begins to suspect that the mushrooms his son ordered from a boy's magazine and is growing in the basement may be alien invaders.
[music playing]
RAY BRADBURY
(VOICEOVER): People ask,
where do you get your ideas?
Well, right here.
All this is mine.
I'll never starve here.
I'm Ray Bradbury.
And this is-- this is my
copy of the Johnson Smith
Racine, Wisconsin catalog.
Every boy in America,
at one time, had one.
You sent away for
jokes, surprises,
funny faces, whoopee cushions,
and magical illusions.
I sent away for my first Johnson
Smith catalog when I was 10,
because I'd heard that you
could buy things, strange things
that you'd dumped in water
or planted in your window box
that grew and grew and grew.
[music playing]
Gosh!
Boy.
Holy cow!
Wow!
Yeah.
Dad, mom, you ever notice how
empty our old dirt basement is?
Guess what?
Today is your lucky day.
I got some tickets
to the ballgame
this afternoon right
behind the first baseline.
What do you say?
You want to go?
Sounds great, dad, but, uh--
Are you waiting for something?
[spraying]
Morning, Tom.
Morning, Mr. Fortnum.
[insects buzzing]
Morning, Mrs. Goodbody.
Ever seem to you
that the whole world
is just crawling with things?
And it ain't the creepers
and crawlers in my lilacs.
[sprays]
Em.
It's invaders from outer space,
flying saucers you see on TV.
You don't believe all that,
though, do you, Mrs. Goodbody?
I believe everything.
I'm the first line of defense.
[spraying]
Lilacs, [chuckles] take that.
[sprays] Oh, gotcha.
[continues spraying]
Tom Fortnum?
Special delivery.
Sign here, son.
Thanks.
Hold her, newt.
I want to see this.
"At last, here are your giant
Abyssinian/Amazon mushrooms."
For our empty, old,
dirt basement, right?
Yeah, you've got to
have a business head.
Mushrooms are a growth industry.
[door opens]
MRS. GOODBODY: Dirty things!
Git!
Git!
[spraying]
Growth industry.
[scraping]
[door creaks open]
[footsteps]
He's digging the Panama Canal.
There'll be tractors
down there next.
HUGH: [sighs]
Those are mushrooms,
not toadstools.
Yes, mushrooms,
this week's project.
(GAGGING) Toadstools.
Gah-ah-ah-ah!
Nope.
Just plain old
Abyssinian mushrooms.
Beauties, huh?
Beauties?
[birds chirping]
[music playing]
MAN (ON RADIO): --transmission
reception lately.
I have--
- Hi, neighbor.
[sighs] Hi, Hugh.
MAN (ON RADIO): --that
unexplained radio
static has interfered with
microwave transmissions
for the last 48 hours.
A meteor shower is blamed.
So there you--
[turns radio off]
You get the
feeling everything's
going to hell in a handbasket?
[chuckles]
Yup.
Every blasted station.
Every newspaper,
every TV news show--
doom and damnation.
Well, I think it's
always been that way.
It's just that now
with TV and satellites,
we learn more quickly
what was always there.
Yeah.
Hugh, you ever have panics?
Panics?
Yeah, night panics,
awake at 3:00 AM afraid,
shivering at nothing?
Afraid of the dark and
there's nothing there?
Afraid of your own wife's
breathing, it's so quiet?
Midnight, shivering.
You know what I mean?
Um, no, Roger, I don't.
Maybe you need a vacation.
What's intuition?
The stuff you know that
you don't know you know.
That's it.
Over a period of
time, things gather.
Surprises.
Your hands get
dirty, but you don't
remember how they got that way.
Dust falls on you every
day, but you don't feel it.
But when you get enough dust
collected up, there it is.
You see it.
You name it.
And now I feel the
weather changing
every minute with
the skin prickling
on the backs of my hands.
[scoffs] Well,
[chuckles nervously]
Now-- now, don't laugh.
I'm full up on dust
and strange weather.
HUGH: So, uh, how bout--
ROGER: So why am I
afraid all the time?
For my family, my friends?
You?
Thanks.
Thanks hell!
Something awful is going
to happen to all of us.
I don't know why, or--
or what, or where.
I have no proof.
But the dirt on my hands and
the dust on my shirtfront.
[car turns off]
Well, what do we do about it?
I don't know.
Watch everything.
Maybe it's in the way the
wind blows those weeds,
or the way the sun burns
on the telephone wires,
or the crickets
screeching in the grass.
That's not much to go on.
Then we're sunk and lost.
Take care.
[retreating footsteps]
[muffled animals yelping]
[stammers]
Son of a--
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Something awful is
going to happen to all of us.
[mechanical buzzing]
I don't know why, or--
or what, or where.
[mechanical buzzing]
[crickets chirping outside]
Was there a war declared
somewhere tonight?
Or is it earthquake weather?
Who have you been talking to?
HUGH: Doomsayers.
Nothing but doomsayers.
Mostly Roger Willis.
Well, he's convinced
that something--
[door opens]
--someone--
Here's good news.
In just 24 hours, look!
I'll be damned.
[nighttime animal noises]
My god, they're ugly.
Ugly?
I hate to be a spoilsport,
but I wouldn't eat these.
Come on, ma,
they're mushrooms.
You think I'd feed all
of us poisonous fungoids?
Yes, but how can you
tell the difference?
HUGH: Well, I'll tell you.
It's simple.
You just eat one of them,
and then if you drop dead,
then they're not a mushroom.
I don't like them.
Thanks a lot!
So much for entrepreneurship.
[footsteps]
[door opens and closes]
Tom!
Tom?
Tom?
[door locks]
WOMAN: Hugh?
HUGH: Dorothy?
Is Roger here?
No.
Why would you--
He's disappeared.
All his clothes are gone.
Why would he go and not say?
Roger?
DOROTHY: Gone.
And I've got this terrible
feeling he'll never come back.
JOE: It's crazy.
Dad and I were out front,
you know, throwing around
the old softball
when dad said he
had to do inside for a minute.
He left the car.
There was no taxicab.
He must have walked
wherever he went.
Well, I'll check the
airport and the train station.
Done that.
No one knows anything.
Rog had this feeling he--
he'd just vanish completely.
I know it's silly.
But now look.
HUGH: There's got to be
some natural explanation.
DOROTHY: I only know a
terrible thing has happened.
[eerie chord strikes]
Find him, please!
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER): You
get the feeling everything's
going to hell in a handbasket?
[chuckles] Hugh, you
ever have panics?
Don't laugh.
Night panics.
Shivering and there's nothing?
All his clothes are gone.
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Over a period of time,
things gather, surprises.
Why would he go and not say?
He must have walked
wherever he went.
He'll never come back.
HUGH (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Nightmares about nothing?
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Something awful is
going to happen to all of us.
WOMAN: Ah-ha!
Gotcha!
[sighs]
[birds chirping]
Tom?
Happy farming.
Any news?
I haven't slept all night.
[telephone rings]
Hello?
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE): Hugh?
Are you alone?
Roger?
Roger, where the hell are you?
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE): On
my way to New Orleans.
New Orleans?
Why?
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE):
Uh, can't say.
Uh, quick, had to call you.
Uh, a crazy panic.
Um-- uh, listen.
I'm listening.
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE): I may
not be able to call again.
Last time I may have control.
Control?
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE): Warn
everyone on the block,
next door, in town.
Nobody accept special
delivery packages.
Why not?
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE):
Believe me!
Roger, is somebody
holding you, forcing you--
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE): No, no.
No.
I wish they were alone.
[stammers] I gotta go.
Warn everyone!
Roger.
Roger!
- Is that Roger?
Let me talk to him.
He hung up.
Well, where is he?
What did he say?
Hugh!
What did Roger say?
Special delivery.
Special delivery?
What?
New Orleans.
Well, this week, all
the boys on the block--
HUGH: New Orleans!
DOROTHY: Hugh, Joe got a packet.
What?
Boys.
The ad said "boys."
Raise giant mushrooms
in your cellar?
DOROTHY: Roger loved them, ate
them on steaks, hamburgers,
omelettes.
Hugh, where is Roger?
What did he say?
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Do you ever have the feeling
everything's gone out of whack?
What?
I said, is he coming--
RADIO DJ (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Unexplained radio static
has interfered with
microwave transmissions
for the last 48 hours.
A meteorite shower
has been blamed.
DOROTHY: He's disappeared.
ROGER (ECHOING
VOICEOVER): --body accept
special delivery packages.
MAILMAN (ECHOING
VOICEOVER): Sign here, son.
TOM (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
I mean, you've
gotta have a business head.
It's invaders
from outer space.
CYNTHIA (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
How can you tell the difference?
[gagging]
TOM (ECHOING
VOICEOVER): Mushrooms
are a growth industry.
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Something awful's
going to happen to all of us.
DOROTHY: Is he coming home?
What did he say?
- What?
Is he coming home?
What did he say?
ROGER (ECHOING
VOICEOVER): I've gotta go!
Do you hear?
[sobs]
Yeah.
Yeah, I heard.
[crickets chirping]
CYNTHIA: Go to sleep, Hugh.
I think I'm losing my hearing.
CYNTHIA: Nonsense.
Then why do I hear things
that people aren't saying?
And why do I imagine that
Roger Willis is in big trouble?
(DISMISSIVELY) Men.
What's that?
You don't believe all this
New Orleans stuff, do you?
Oh, come on, Cynthia.
Dorothy and Roger are fine.
He's not out picking peaches
in somebody else's orchard.
[sighs] What if the
world is going to hell?
What if Roger is running
away for a reason?
What if Mrs. Goodbody
is right and she
is our first line of defense?
Against what?
What if we're being
invaded right now,
not, neh, by flying
saucers or anything.
That's too obvious.
Invisibly.
Hugh, what are
you talking about?
What about bacteria?
That falls from outer space too.
Hugh, you're scaring me.
Look, spores, seeds,
pollens, viruses bombard
our atmosphere by the billions.
They don't get very far
with people like Mrs.
Goodbody, who root them out.
But what if that meteor
loaded with spores lands
in a swamp somewhere and
the spores in it grow?
You don't imagine, do you,
that a six-foot-tall mushroom
from outer space is
running the Giant Mushroom
Company in New Orleans?
But what if a guy eats
some of those mushrooms,
and he is the man
or whatever that
sends out the special
mushrooms all over the world?
He-- eh--
Take over the world
without firing a shot!
Hugh, let's get some sleep.
[telephone rings]
Hello?
DOROTHY (ON TELEPHONE):
Hugh, it's Dorothy.
Dorothy?
Do you have any news?
DOROTHY (ON TELEPHONE): Yes.
I've been so stupid, Hugh,
I don't know what to say.
Roger's on a business trip.
I'd forgotten all about it.
A business trip?
DOROTHY (ON TELEPHONE):
Yes, he's fine, Hugh.
[laughs] I'm not too sure
about my memory, though.
Well, what about
that phone call?
DOROTHY (ON TELEPHONE):
You know Roger, Hugh.
Practical joker.
That call was him all over.
Yeah, I guess--
[breathing heavily] yeah, sure.
Oh, that's great news, Dorothy.
DOROTHY (ON TELEPHONE):
Good night, Hugh.
Good night.
[slams receiver into cradle]
Business trip, huh?
[sighs] The whole thing was
just a big misunderstanding.
[sighs]
Now what are you doing?
Oh, eh, you know, a
bit of dust or something.
Oh, isn't that great?
That's great.
Hell.
Now Roger's going to
come back, we're just--
have a couple of
drinks, probably
all have a big laugh about it.
[sighs]
I'm hungry.
Do you want anything?
No, I'm going to sleep.
TOM: Dad?
[door creaks open]
There's a sandwich
in the fridge.
I need a snack.
You mind bringing it down?
Dad?
Dad?
HUGH: Tom?
It's midnight.
I couldn't sleep.
I thought I'd tend my crop.
Want a bite?
TOM: Heck, you think you're
going to get poisoned?
Here.
See?
No upchuck, no [inaudible].
Health food.
But--
TOM: Me and Joe
are going to sell
these things all around town.
HUGH: But--
Here, try it.
You'll like it.
[sighs]
TOM: Afraid?
You're not a coward!
I mean, you've got to
prove yourself to your son.
Sure, one bite.
ROGER (ECHOING
VOICEOVER): Crazy, panic.
Uh-- uh, listen.
Come on, take a bite.
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Last time I may have control.
Believe me!
I mean, what could happen?
MRS. GOODBODY
(ECHOING VOICEOVER):
I believe everything.
CYNTHIA (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Business trip, huh?
You wouldn't want
me to tell the kids
at school you chickened out
over just one, itty bite?
DOROTHY (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
He'll never come back.
Do you hear?!
[squawks like a chicken]
one knows anything.
Is he coming home?
What did he say?
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Then we're sunk and lost.
[squawks like chicken]
CYNTHIA (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
You don't imagine, do you,
that a six-foot-tall
mushroom from outer space
is running the Giant Mushroom
Company in New Orleans?
TOM: Isn't mom hungry?
[music playing]
RAY BRADBURY
(VOICEOVER): People ask,
where do you get your ideas?
Well, right here.
All this is mine.
I'll never starve here.
I'm Ray Bradbury.
And this is-- this is my
copy of the Johnson Smith
Racine, Wisconsin catalog.
Every boy in America,
at one time, had one.
You sent away for
jokes, surprises,
funny faces, whoopee cushions,
and magical illusions.
I sent away for my first Johnson
Smith catalog when I was 10,
because I'd heard that you
could buy things, strange things
that you'd dumped in water
or planted in your window box
that grew and grew and grew.
[music playing]
Gosh!
Boy.
Holy cow!
Wow!
Yeah.
Dad, mom, you ever notice how
empty our old dirt basement is?
Guess what?
Today is your lucky day.
I got some tickets
to the ballgame
this afternoon right
behind the first baseline.
What do you say?
You want to go?
Sounds great, dad, but, uh--
Are you waiting for something?
[spraying]
Morning, Tom.
Morning, Mr. Fortnum.
[insects buzzing]
Morning, Mrs. Goodbody.
Ever seem to you
that the whole world
is just crawling with things?
And it ain't the creepers
and crawlers in my lilacs.
[sprays]
Em.
It's invaders from outer space,
flying saucers you see on TV.
You don't believe all that,
though, do you, Mrs. Goodbody?
I believe everything.
I'm the first line of defense.
[spraying]
Lilacs, [chuckles] take that.
[sprays] Oh, gotcha.
[continues spraying]
Tom Fortnum?
Special delivery.
Sign here, son.
Thanks.
Hold her, newt.
I want to see this.
"At last, here are your giant
Abyssinian/Amazon mushrooms."
For our empty, old,
dirt basement, right?
Yeah, you've got to
have a business head.
Mushrooms are a growth industry.
[door opens]
MRS. GOODBODY: Dirty things!
Git!
Git!
[spraying]
Growth industry.
[scraping]
[door creaks open]
[footsteps]
He's digging the Panama Canal.
There'll be tractors
down there next.
HUGH: [sighs]
Those are mushrooms,
not toadstools.
Yes, mushrooms,
this week's project.
(GAGGING) Toadstools.
Gah-ah-ah-ah!
Nope.
Just plain old
Abyssinian mushrooms.
Beauties, huh?
Beauties?
[birds chirping]
[music playing]
MAN (ON RADIO): --transmission
reception lately.
I have--
- Hi, neighbor.
[sighs] Hi, Hugh.
MAN (ON RADIO): --that
unexplained radio
static has interfered with
microwave transmissions
for the last 48 hours.
A meteor shower is blamed.
So there you--
[turns radio off]
You get the
feeling everything's
going to hell in a handbasket?
[chuckles]
Yup.
Every blasted station.
Every newspaper,
every TV news show--
doom and damnation.
Well, I think it's
always been that way.
It's just that now
with TV and satellites,
we learn more quickly
what was always there.
Yeah.
Hugh, you ever have panics?
Panics?
Yeah, night panics,
awake at 3:00 AM afraid,
shivering at nothing?
Afraid of the dark and
there's nothing there?
Afraid of your own wife's
breathing, it's so quiet?
Midnight, shivering.
You know what I mean?
Um, no, Roger, I don't.
Maybe you need a vacation.
What's intuition?
The stuff you know that
you don't know you know.
That's it.
Over a period of
time, things gather.
Surprises.
Your hands get
dirty, but you don't
remember how they got that way.
Dust falls on you every
day, but you don't feel it.
But when you get enough dust
collected up, there it is.
You see it.
You name it.
And now I feel the
weather changing
every minute with
the skin prickling
on the backs of my hands.
[scoffs] Well,
[chuckles nervously]
Now-- now, don't laugh.
I'm full up on dust
and strange weather.
HUGH: So, uh, how bout--
ROGER: So why am I
afraid all the time?
For my family, my friends?
You?
Thanks.
Thanks hell!
Something awful is going
to happen to all of us.
I don't know why, or--
or what, or where.
I have no proof.
But the dirt on my hands and
the dust on my shirtfront.
[car turns off]
Well, what do we do about it?
I don't know.
Watch everything.
Maybe it's in the way the
wind blows those weeds,
or the way the sun burns
on the telephone wires,
or the crickets
screeching in the grass.
That's not much to go on.
Then we're sunk and lost.
Take care.
[retreating footsteps]
[muffled animals yelping]
[stammers]
Son of a--
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Something awful is
going to happen to all of us.
[mechanical buzzing]
I don't know why, or--
or what, or where.
[mechanical buzzing]
[crickets chirping outside]
Was there a war declared
somewhere tonight?
Or is it earthquake weather?
Who have you been talking to?
HUGH: Doomsayers.
Nothing but doomsayers.
Mostly Roger Willis.
Well, he's convinced
that something--
[door opens]
--someone--
Here's good news.
In just 24 hours, look!
I'll be damned.
[nighttime animal noises]
My god, they're ugly.
Ugly?
I hate to be a spoilsport,
but I wouldn't eat these.
Come on, ma,
they're mushrooms.
You think I'd feed all
of us poisonous fungoids?
Yes, but how can you
tell the difference?
HUGH: Well, I'll tell you.
It's simple.
You just eat one of them,
and then if you drop dead,
then they're not a mushroom.
I don't like them.
Thanks a lot!
So much for entrepreneurship.
[footsteps]
[door opens and closes]
Tom!
Tom?
Tom?
[door locks]
WOMAN: Hugh?
HUGH: Dorothy?
Is Roger here?
No.
Why would you--
He's disappeared.
All his clothes are gone.
Why would he go and not say?
Roger?
DOROTHY: Gone.
And I've got this terrible
feeling he'll never come back.
JOE: It's crazy.
Dad and I were out front,
you know, throwing around
the old softball
when dad said he
had to do inside for a minute.
He left the car.
There was no taxicab.
He must have walked
wherever he went.
Well, I'll check the
airport and the train station.
Done that.
No one knows anything.
Rog had this feeling he--
he'd just vanish completely.
I know it's silly.
But now look.
HUGH: There's got to be
some natural explanation.
DOROTHY: I only know a
terrible thing has happened.
[eerie chord strikes]
Find him, please!
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER): You
get the feeling everything's
going to hell in a handbasket?
[chuckles] Hugh, you
ever have panics?
Don't laugh.
Night panics.
Shivering and there's nothing?
All his clothes are gone.
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Over a period of time,
things gather, surprises.
Why would he go and not say?
He must have walked
wherever he went.
He'll never come back.
HUGH (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Nightmares about nothing?
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Something awful is
going to happen to all of us.
WOMAN: Ah-ha!
Gotcha!
[sighs]
[birds chirping]
Tom?
Happy farming.
Any news?
I haven't slept all night.
[telephone rings]
Hello?
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE): Hugh?
Are you alone?
Roger?
Roger, where the hell are you?
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE): On
my way to New Orleans.
New Orleans?
Why?
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE):
Uh, can't say.
Uh, quick, had to call you.
Uh, a crazy panic.
Um-- uh, listen.
I'm listening.
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE): I may
not be able to call again.
Last time I may have control.
Control?
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE): Warn
everyone on the block,
next door, in town.
Nobody accept special
delivery packages.
Why not?
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE):
Believe me!
Roger, is somebody
holding you, forcing you--
ROGER (ON TELEPHONE): No, no.
No.
I wish they were alone.
[stammers] I gotta go.
Warn everyone!
Roger.
Roger!
- Is that Roger?
Let me talk to him.
He hung up.
Well, where is he?
What did he say?
Hugh!
What did Roger say?
Special delivery.
Special delivery?
What?
New Orleans.
Well, this week, all
the boys on the block--
HUGH: New Orleans!
DOROTHY: Hugh, Joe got a packet.
What?
Boys.
The ad said "boys."
Raise giant mushrooms
in your cellar?
DOROTHY: Roger loved them, ate
them on steaks, hamburgers,
omelettes.
Hugh, where is Roger?
What did he say?
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Do you ever have the feeling
everything's gone out of whack?
What?
I said, is he coming--
RADIO DJ (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Unexplained radio static
has interfered with
microwave transmissions
for the last 48 hours.
A meteorite shower
has been blamed.
DOROTHY: He's disappeared.
ROGER (ECHOING
VOICEOVER): --body accept
special delivery packages.
MAILMAN (ECHOING
VOICEOVER): Sign here, son.
TOM (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
I mean, you've
gotta have a business head.
It's invaders
from outer space.
CYNTHIA (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
How can you tell the difference?
[gagging]
TOM (ECHOING
VOICEOVER): Mushrooms
are a growth industry.
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Something awful's
going to happen to all of us.
DOROTHY: Is he coming home?
What did he say?
- What?
Is he coming home?
What did he say?
ROGER (ECHOING
VOICEOVER): I've gotta go!
Do you hear?
[sobs]
Yeah.
Yeah, I heard.
[crickets chirping]
CYNTHIA: Go to sleep, Hugh.
I think I'm losing my hearing.
CYNTHIA: Nonsense.
Then why do I hear things
that people aren't saying?
And why do I imagine that
Roger Willis is in big trouble?
(DISMISSIVELY) Men.
What's that?
You don't believe all this
New Orleans stuff, do you?
Oh, come on, Cynthia.
Dorothy and Roger are fine.
He's not out picking peaches
in somebody else's orchard.
[sighs] What if the
world is going to hell?
What if Roger is running
away for a reason?
What if Mrs. Goodbody
is right and she
is our first line of defense?
Against what?
What if we're being
invaded right now,
not, neh, by flying
saucers or anything.
That's too obvious.
Invisibly.
Hugh, what are
you talking about?
What about bacteria?
That falls from outer space too.
Hugh, you're scaring me.
Look, spores, seeds,
pollens, viruses bombard
our atmosphere by the billions.
They don't get very far
with people like Mrs.
Goodbody, who root them out.
But what if that meteor
loaded with spores lands
in a swamp somewhere and
the spores in it grow?
You don't imagine, do you,
that a six-foot-tall mushroom
from outer space is
running the Giant Mushroom
Company in New Orleans?
But what if a guy eats
some of those mushrooms,
and he is the man
or whatever that
sends out the special
mushrooms all over the world?
He-- eh--
Take over the world
without firing a shot!
Hugh, let's get some sleep.
[telephone rings]
Hello?
DOROTHY (ON TELEPHONE):
Hugh, it's Dorothy.
Dorothy?
Do you have any news?
DOROTHY (ON TELEPHONE): Yes.
I've been so stupid, Hugh,
I don't know what to say.
Roger's on a business trip.
I'd forgotten all about it.
A business trip?
DOROTHY (ON TELEPHONE):
Yes, he's fine, Hugh.
[laughs] I'm not too sure
about my memory, though.
Well, what about
that phone call?
DOROTHY (ON TELEPHONE):
You know Roger, Hugh.
Practical joker.
That call was him all over.
Yeah, I guess--
[breathing heavily] yeah, sure.
Oh, that's great news, Dorothy.
DOROTHY (ON TELEPHONE):
Good night, Hugh.
Good night.
[slams receiver into cradle]
Business trip, huh?
[sighs] The whole thing was
just a big misunderstanding.
[sighs]
Now what are you doing?
Oh, eh, you know, a
bit of dust or something.
Oh, isn't that great?
That's great.
Hell.
Now Roger's going to
come back, we're just--
have a couple of
drinks, probably
all have a big laugh about it.
[sighs]
I'm hungry.
Do you want anything?
No, I'm going to sleep.
TOM: Dad?
[door creaks open]
There's a sandwich
in the fridge.
I need a snack.
You mind bringing it down?
Dad?
Dad?
HUGH: Tom?
It's midnight.
I couldn't sleep.
I thought I'd tend my crop.
Want a bite?
TOM: Heck, you think you're
going to get poisoned?
Here.
See?
No upchuck, no [inaudible].
Health food.
But--
TOM: Me and Joe
are going to sell
these things all around town.
HUGH: But--
Here, try it.
You'll like it.
[sighs]
TOM: Afraid?
You're not a coward!
I mean, you've got to
prove yourself to your son.
Sure, one bite.
ROGER (ECHOING
VOICEOVER): Crazy, panic.
Uh-- uh, listen.
Come on, take a bite.
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Last time I may have control.
Believe me!
I mean, what could happen?
MRS. GOODBODY
(ECHOING VOICEOVER):
I believe everything.
CYNTHIA (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Business trip, huh?
You wouldn't want
me to tell the kids
at school you chickened out
over just one, itty bite?
DOROTHY (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
He'll never come back.
Do you hear?!
[squawks like a chicken]
one knows anything.
Is he coming home?
What did he say?
ROGER (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
Then we're sunk and lost.
[squawks like chicken]
CYNTHIA (ECHOING VOICEOVER):
You don't imagine, do you,
that a six-foot-tall
mushroom from outer space
is running the Giant Mushroom
Company in New Orleans?
TOM: Isn't mom hungry?
[music playing]