The Ray Bradbury Theater (1985–1992): Season 4, Episode 10 - The Day It Rained Forever - full transcript
Three men, Mr. Terle, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Fremley, are the only residents of a desert hotel stricken by years of drought. When the one time of the year it ever rains passes without occasion, all looks hopeless. But an elderly music teacher seeking a receptive audience arrives and promises hope.
[music playing]
[elevator rattling]
RAY BRADBURY: People ask,
where do you get your ideas?
Right here.
All this is my
magician's toy shop.
I'm Ray Bradbury and this is.
No use trying to
rock up a cool wind
in these glockenspiel rockers.
It just gets hotter.
[inaudible] the
while, Mr. Fremley.
Yeah, thanks, yeah.
I will.
Damned hotel.
I got no dry bones
just lying here
under the hot of the desert,
drinking and sun all day
and baking my bones like
bread sticks all night.
I feel like I'm a turkey
buzzard stuffed with sun.
Mr. Terle, wouldn't it be
really nice someday if you
could buy air conditioning?
Got no money for such
things, Mr. Fremley.
No inference meant.
Why, oh why can't
we all just quit?
Move to some nice
decent city and stop
this sweltering, frying,
sweating and scorching wind?
Dead mine, rundown
hotel, buy it.
Nobody comes by here anymore
anyhow except those who take
the wrong turn 30 miles back.
Nowhere to go.
We'll just sit here and wait.
It won't be long now.
Oh won't it be fine, August
29, the one day in the year
we get some rain.
The only day every year it
rains in Lizard Falls, Arizona.
No, don't.
What's the matter?
Because it's still one minute
to August 29, that's what.
So one minute?
They--
Mr. Fremley, don't
run against luck.
Don't push things.
That calendar page.
Well, it's just a little old
ball of paper, that's all, see?
What time is it anyway?
10 seconds.
7, 5, 3, 2, 1.
Now it's August 29.
The day it always rains.
Once a year, on top of, around,
and over the Milled Buck Hotel.
Thank you, Lord.
Much obliged.
See you in the morning.
The nice wet morning.
Clear skies.
Yep.
Clear?
Sky?
Oh, that can't be right.
For over 40 years the
sky was clouded over.
Not a drop of mercy there.
The day is young.
We're not.
I don't see no clouds for
10,000 miles in that direction
or 10,000 in that.
Now, now patience.
Patience.
Patience.
Mr. Terle, we waited
for a year, a solid year.
364 oven-baked
hell-warmed over days.
And you talk to
us about patience?
We're sitting at the
center of a catastrophe, sir.
Now you ever remember such
a terrible clear sky ever?
No, I do not.
I'm off.
Where are you going?
Out, skedaddle, pack.
Where to?
Ireland.
On my honor, they say it rains
one inch a day 25 days a month.
I'll get a job there
and I'll run out
in the downpour
with my head back,
my hat off, and my mouth open.
But--
No buts, Mr. Terle.
I'm for my suitcase.
MR. TERLE: No, you can't leave.
No?
No.
You owe me $5,462.42.
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean that.
But you said it.
And you owe it.
Fact's a fact.
You both do.
Look, look.
Pay me when you can.
Or not, makes no difference.
But if you're going to
run, run to Seattle.
It's the nearest
thing to Ireland.
I hear it rains 10
inches a month there.
10 inches isn't 25.
25?
You want to be drowned?
Yes, drowned.
I want to sink deep
into the glorious sea.
I want to go down for the last
time in wet, wonderful rain.
But I will consider Seattle.
It's nearer.
Look, do me a favor.
Wait till sundown.
It's cooler then, anyhow.
Get yourself a nice
walk towards the city.
Nothing will change
between now and then.
Gotta have faith, Mr. Smith.
Faith.
When everything
else is dark, God'll
be the thing will happen.
Come here.
Sit here with me
and-- and think rain.
It's the last thing
I'll ever ask of you.
Then you can leave
with my blessings.
It ain't going to do no
good this time, Mr. Terle.
No, sir.
You're going too?
Nope.
I'm too old to travel.
So I'm up to bed.
I'll lie there.
And if I don't hear
more than the pit
pat of birds on that roof
for one more day, I'll die.
You can't do that.
I'll go dig a hole.
It'll be ready for
planting within the week.
Show me the bed.
Then show me the grave.
Can a man make
himself die like that?
I've heard tell.
Oh Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord.
If only it would rain.
The merest drop of rain.
Mr. Fremley.
Mr. Fremley.
Damn desert cactus, that's us.
But even the best damn cactuses
gotta have a sip of water.
[rattling]
That won't do no
good, Mr. Terle.
That ain't rain.
Ain't no use wasting
water at a time like this.
Cut it out now.
Thanks for trying, though.
I can't go on.
(SOBBING) Not for one more day.
You are a kind man, sir.
Well, maybe.
Maybe not.
Come on.
Let's sit and think
good thoughts before you
set off on your journey.
How come you have such faith?
How can I learn to
sing along with you?
You got to write
your own hymns,
or they ain't worth singing.
Anyways, I don't believe
you'll ever leave
or that Mr. Fremley'll die.
And I know there's a storm out
there coming right this way.
My bones tell me.
Feel.
Ain't no good, Mr. Terle.
I ain't ever gonna to have
the faith like you, you see.
I gotta get a new life.
Cool air, new faces,
people to talk to
instead of them gol-darn
desert rats and roaches.
Temperature is
down from 110 to 101.
105.
And goodbye to 365
days of unholy sun.
Bye, Mr. Fremley.
You take good care of
yourself, you hear?
Goodbye, Mr. Terle.
Shh.
Wait.
What?
What?
Storm.
Listen.
[faint rumbling]
Hear that?
Where?
Over there.
Over there.
A storm, by Jiminy.
Here she comes.
Funny looking cloud.
Strange.
Who cares?
Here it comes.
Mr. Terle, that ain't a storm.
It's a damn old-fashioned
fire [inaudible]
spark [inaudible] vehicle.
[thunk]
[clank]
[poof]
I-- I thought--
I mean-- Terle's the
name, Joseph Terle.
Ms. Blanche Hillgood,
graduate of Grinnell College,
unmarried teacher of music,
30 years high school glee club
and student orchestra
conductor, Elm City.
I am Smith.
Are you all right?
I'm quite all
right, thank you.
It's my car that has suffered.
I called her Bess.
I loved her very much.
Well, most natural, ma'am.
We do name things we care about.
Ms. Hillgood, it
doesn't look like you'll
be going anywhere from here.
I had a feeling about that.
Is there nothing we can do?
Well, we could make a fence
out of the wheels, dinner gongs
out of the brake
drums, and the rest
will make a fine
rock garden basking
ground for the gila monsters.
Ms. Hillgood, welcome
to Terle's Desert Hotel,
open 26 hours a day.
Gila monsters and
roadrunners, please
register before going upstairs.
Get you a good
night's sleep free.
In the morning, we'll get
the Ford off its blocks
and drive you to the city.
Well, one friend's gone,
but the other's still with me.
Mr. Terle, would you
be so kind as to bring
her in out of the weather?
Her?
What a charming place
you have here, Mr. Terle.
Why don't you just set
her right over there?
[grunt]
Ms. Hillgood, will you
honor us with your presence
at dinner tonight?
- Why, that's very kind.
Mr. Smith, a penny
for your thoughts.
Oh, oh, nothing.
It's just that we were
expecting a thunderstorm
and here you are.
Now how come I'm
not disappointed.
Set up, Mr. Smith.
I believe I will join
you for dinner, thank you.
Fine, fine.
Then I'll go fetch the silver.
Mr. Smith, go look for
that bottle of wine
we've been saving for 10 years.
Go ahead.
Go ahead.
Ms. Hillgood, this way please.
To lovely visitors.
You're very kind.
Will your friend
be joining us?
I'm afraid not.
He suffered a
disappointment recently
and he's not feeling
up to par, I'm afraid.
Oh, I am sorry to hear that.
Go on with your
life, Ms. Hillgood.
Where was I?
Oh, yes.
All my life, I've
spent so much time
running from Bach to Beethoven
to Brahms, I never noticed.
I was 29.
The next thing I knew, I was 40.
And yesterday, 65.
Oh, there were men,
but they'd given
up singing when they were 10,
and flying when they were 12.
I always figured we were meant
to fly, one way or another.
So most of the time, I just
couldn't stand most men who
just shuffled by with
the iron of the Earth
in their feet and blood.
I never met a man who
weighed less than 900 pounds.
In those black business suits,
you could just hear them
roll by like funeral hearses.
So you flew away.
First just in my
mind, Mr. Terle.
It's taken me 40 years
to make the final break.
It's been the long way
round that brought me here.
No one in all Elm City
really cares if you fly
or how high you go.
But talk of leaving, and they
swat you down, and laugh,
and say, why be a
little frog in a big
pond when you can
be the biggest frog
in all Elm City, which
may be true, except Elm
City's the wrong pond.
So at last, I shook myself
good, and stared in the mirror,
and asked myself, Look
here, Blanche Hillgood.
Since when do frogs
have wings anyway?
And will they ever?
So I-- I packed my
bag and my old car.
Threw a feather in the
air and followed it west.
Funny thing.
When I was driving, I
heard someone laugh.
And I felt a strange,
wild thing on my face.
And I put my hand up.
And I felt a smile just here.
And now where?
To California, maybe,
to play in the pictures,
or in that orchestra
under the stars.
But somehow I just must play
for someone who will listen
and who really hear.
[coughing]
[door creaking]
Mr. Fremley, brought
you some soup.
What you been talking
about down there?
About life, about when
you're going to get yourself
together and come downstairs.
I-- I can't do that no more.
You're going to stay?
You eat your soup now.
I'll be back later
to get the tray.
[door creaking]
And now I must pay
you for my dinner.
It's on the house.
I mean, him.
Right, right.
On the house.
No, I want to pay you.
It's a harp.
You old fool, of course it is.
Is it?
Could it be?
Is it--
Ms. Blanche Hillgood,
when she was very young.
[harp playing]
[music playing]
[rattling]
[delighted yelling]
[applause]
[thunder]
The dust [inaudible].
The heat, gone.
The cactus, washed.
The land, fresh.
The rain barrel, full.
The 50 years of
drought are over.
[elevator rattling]
RAY BRADBURY: People ask,
where do you get your ideas?
Right here.
All this is my
magician's toy shop.
I'm Ray Bradbury and this is.
No use trying to
rock up a cool wind
in these glockenspiel rockers.
It just gets hotter.
[inaudible] the
while, Mr. Fremley.
Yeah, thanks, yeah.
I will.
Damned hotel.
I got no dry bones
just lying here
under the hot of the desert,
drinking and sun all day
and baking my bones like
bread sticks all night.
I feel like I'm a turkey
buzzard stuffed with sun.
Mr. Terle, wouldn't it be
really nice someday if you
could buy air conditioning?
Got no money for such
things, Mr. Fremley.
No inference meant.
Why, oh why can't
we all just quit?
Move to some nice
decent city and stop
this sweltering, frying,
sweating and scorching wind?
Dead mine, rundown
hotel, buy it.
Nobody comes by here anymore
anyhow except those who take
the wrong turn 30 miles back.
Nowhere to go.
We'll just sit here and wait.
It won't be long now.
Oh won't it be fine, August
29, the one day in the year
we get some rain.
The only day every year it
rains in Lizard Falls, Arizona.
No, don't.
What's the matter?
Because it's still one minute
to August 29, that's what.
So one minute?
They--
Mr. Fremley, don't
run against luck.
Don't push things.
That calendar page.
Well, it's just a little old
ball of paper, that's all, see?
What time is it anyway?
10 seconds.
7, 5, 3, 2, 1.
Now it's August 29.
The day it always rains.
Once a year, on top of, around,
and over the Milled Buck Hotel.
Thank you, Lord.
Much obliged.
See you in the morning.
The nice wet morning.
Clear skies.
Yep.
Clear?
Sky?
Oh, that can't be right.
For over 40 years the
sky was clouded over.
Not a drop of mercy there.
The day is young.
We're not.
I don't see no clouds for
10,000 miles in that direction
or 10,000 in that.
Now, now patience.
Patience.
Patience.
Mr. Terle, we waited
for a year, a solid year.
364 oven-baked
hell-warmed over days.
And you talk to
us about patience?
We're sitting at the
center of a catastrophe, sir.
Now you ever remember such
a terrible clear sky ever?
No, I do not.
I'm off.
Where are you going?
Out, skedaddle, pack.
Where to?
Ireland.
On my honor, they say it rains
one inch a day 25 days a month.
I'll get a job there
and I'll run out
in the downpour
with my head back,
my hat off, and my mouth open.
But--
No buts, Mr. Terle.
I'm for my suitcase.
MR. TERLE: No, you can't leave.
No?
No.
You owe me $5,462.42.
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean that.
But you said it.
And you owe it.
Fact's a fact.
You both do.
Look, look.
Pay me when you can.
Or not, makes no difference.
But if you're going to
run, run to Seattle.
It's the nearest
thing to Ireland.
I hear it rains 10
inches a month there.
10 inches isn't 25.
25?
You want to be drowned?
Yes, drowned.
I want to sink deep
into the glorious sea.
I want to go down for the last
time in wet, wonderful rain.
But I will consider Seattle.
It's nearer.
Look, do me a favor.
Wait till sundown.
It's cooler then, anyhow.
Get yourself a nice
walk towards the city.
Nothing will change
between now and then.
Gotta have faith, Mr. Smith.
Faith.
When everything
else is dark, God'll
be the thing will happen.
Come here.
Sit here with me
and-- and think rain.
It's the last thing
I'll ever ask of you.
Then you can leave
with my blessings.
It ain't going to do no
good this time, Mr. Terle.
No, sir.
You're going too?
Nope.
I'm too old to travel.
So I'm up to bed.
I'll lie there.
And if I don't hear
more than the pit
pat of birds on that roof
for one more day, I'll die.
You can't do that.
I'll go dig a hole.
It'll be ready for
planting within the week.
Show me the bed.
Then show me the grave.
Can a man make
himself die like that?
I've heard tell.
Oh Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord.
If only it would rain.
The merest drop of rain.
Mr. Fremley.
Mr. Fremley.
Damn desert cactus, that's us.
But even the best damn cactuses
gotta have a sip of water.
[rattling]
That won't do no
good, Mr. Terle.
That ain't rain.
Ain't no use wasting
water at a time like this.
Cut it out now.
Thanks for trying, though.
I can't go on.
(SOBBING) Not for one more day.
You are a kind man, sir.
Well, maybe.
Maybe not.
Come on.
Let's sit and think
good thoughts before you
set off on your journey.
How come you have such faith?
How can I learn to
sing along with you?
You got to write
your own hymns,
or they ain't worth singing.
Anyways, I don't believe
you'll ever leave
or that Mr. Fremley'll die.
And I know there's a storm out
there coming right this way.
My bones tell me.
Feel.
Ain't no good, Mr. Terle.
I ain't ever gonna to have
the faith like you, you see.
I gotta get a new life.
Cool air, new faces,
people to talk to
instead of them gol-darn
desert rats and roaches.
Temperature is
down from 110 to 101.
105.
And goodbye to 365
days of unholy sun.
Bye, Mr. Fremley.
You take good care of
yourself, you hear?
Goodbye, Mr. Terle.
Shh.
Wait.
What?
What?
Storm.
Listen.
[faint rumbling]
Hear that?
Where?
Over there.
Over there.
A storm, by Jiminy.
Here she comes.
Funny looking cloud.
Strange.
Who cares?
Here it comes.
Mr. Terle, that ain't a storm.
It's a damn old-fashioned
fire [inaudible]
spark [inaudible] vehicle.
[thunk]
[clank]
[poof]
I-- I thought--
I mean-- Terle's the
name, Joseph Terle.
Ms. Blanche Hillgood,
graduate of Grinnell College,
unmarried teacher of music,
30 years high school glee club
and student orchestra
conductor, Elm City.
I am Smith.
Are you all right?
I'm quite all
right, thank you.
It's my car that has suffered.
I called her Bess.
I loved her very much.
Well, most natural, ma'am.
We do name things we care about.
Ms. Hillgood, it
doesn't look like you'll
be going anywhere from here.
I had a feeling about that.
Is there nothing we can do?
Well, we could make a fence
out of the wheels, dinner gongs
out of the brake
drums, and the rest
will make a fine
rock garden basking
ground for the gila monsters.
Ms. Hillgood, welcome
to Terle's Desert Hotel,
open 26 hours a day.
Gila monsters and
roadrunners, please
register before going upstairs.
Get you a good
night's sleep free.
In the morning, we'll get
the Ford off its blocks
and drive you to the city.
Well, one friend's gone,
but the other's still with me.
Mr. Terle, would you
be so kind as to bring
her in out of the weather?
Her?
What a charming place
you have here, Mr. Terle.
Why don't you just set
her right over there?
[grunt]
Ms. Hillgood, will you
honor us with your presence
at dinner tonight?
- Why, that's very kind.
Mr. Smith, a penny
for your thoughts.
Oh, oh, nothing.
It's just that we were
expecting a thunderstorm
and here you are.
Now how come I'm
not disappointed.
Set up, Mr. Smith.
I believe I will join
you for dinner, thank you.
Fine, fine.
Then I'll go fetch the silver.
Mr. Smith, go look for
that bottle of wine
we've been saving for 10 years.
Go ahead.
Go ahead.
Ms. Hillgood, this way please.
To lovely visitors.
You're very kind.
Will your friend
be joining us?
I'm afraid not.
He suffered a
disappointment recently
and he's not feeling
up to par, I'm afraid.
Oh, I am sorry to hear that.
Go on with your
life, Ms. Hillgood.
Where was I?
Oh, yes.
All my life, I've
spent so much time
running from Bach to Beethoven
to Brahms, I never noticed.
I was 29.
The next thing I knew, I was 40.
And yesterday, 65.
Oh, there were men,
but they'd given
up singing when they were 10,
and flying when they were 12.
I always figured we were meant
to fly, one way or another.
So most of the time, I just
couldn't stand most men who
just shuffled by with
the iron of the Earth
in their feet and blood.
I never met a man who
weighed less than 900 pounds.
In those black business suits,
you could just hear them
roll by like funeral hearses.
So you flew away.
First just in my
mind, Mr. Terle.
It's taken me 40 years
to make the final break.
It's been the long way
round that brought me here.
No one in all Elm City
really cares if you fly
or how high you go.
But talk of leaving, and they
swat you down, and laugh,
and say, why be a
little frog in a big
pond when you can
be the biggest frog
in all Elm City, which
may be true, except Elm
City's the wrong pond.
So at last, I shook myself
good, and stared in the mirror,
and asked myself, Look
here, Blanche Hillgood.
Since when do frogs
have wings anyway?
And will they ever?
So I-- I packed my
bag and my old car.
Threw a feather in the
air and followed it west.
Funny thing.
When I was driving, I
heard someone laugh.
And I felt a strange,
wild thing on my face.
And I put my hand up.
And I felt a smile just here.
And now where?
To California, maybe,
to play in the pictures,
or in that orchestra
under the stars.
But somehow I just must play
for someone who will listen
and who really hear.
[coughing]
[door creaking]
Mr. Fremley, brought
you some soup.
What you been talking
about down there?
About life, about when
you're going to get yourself
together and come downstairs.
I-- I can't do that no more.
You're going to stay?
You eat your soup now.
I'll be back later
to get the tray.
[door creaking]
And now I must pay
you for my dinner.
It's on the house.
I mean, him.
Right, right.
On the house.
No, I want to pay you.
It's a harp.
You old fool, of course it is.
Is it?
Could it be?
Is it--
Ms. Blanche Hillgood,
when she was very young.
[harp playing]
[music playing]
[rattling]
[delighted yelling]
[applause]
[thunder]
The dust [inaudible].
The heat, gone.
The cactus, washed.
The land, fresh.
The rain barrel, full.
The 50 years of
drought are over.