The X-Files (1993–…): Season 2, Episode 20 - Humbug - full transcript

Stop!

Oh, Dad, you cut it out.

- I knew it was you, Dad.
- Quit picking on your brother.

- Remember, he loves you.
- No, I don't!

- I'm glad you're back home, Dad.
- Not as glad as I am.

Did you see a lot
of weird stuff this year?

Yep. It was the weirdest show ever.

But right now, your mother thinks
you guys are getting ready for bed.

If she comes out here and finds you guys
still in the pool, she's gonna kill me.

So, come on. Out of the pool.

Quit your whining.



Come on, if you want to get a bedtime
story. Out you go. That's it.

We don't even have school tomorrow.

What the hell?

What happened to him?

Nothing you can ascertain
from that photograph.

The victim suffered
from ichthyosis,

a congenital skin disease
characterized by the shedding...

of the epidermis
in the form of scales.

This shows the entry wound
of the undetermined weapon.

There were no other injuries
inflicted upon the body.

No internal organs were removed
and/or cannibalized,

and there's no signs of
any sexual molestation either.

That's 48 attacks
over the last 28 years,

occurring in every state
in the continental U.S. Almost.



The first in Oregon,
the last five in Florida.

The victims range from all different
age groups, races, both male and female.

The mutilations appear so motiveless that
one would suspect some form of ritual.

Yet they adhere to no known cult.

A lone serial killer
would have been expected...

to escalate the level of violence
of his attacks...

over such an extended
period of time.

So, what do you think, Scully?
What are your initial thoughts?

Imagine going through your whole life
looking like this.

The Lord is my Shepherd,
I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down
in green pastures.

He leadeth me
beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul.

He leadeth me in the paths
of righteousness for His namesake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,
for Thou art with me.

Thy rod and Thy staff,
they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me
in the presence of mine enemies.

Thou anointest my head with oil.

My cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall
follow me all the days of my life,

and I will dwell in
the house of the Lord forever.

We are gathered here today to mourn
the passing ofJerald Glazebrook,

beloved husband, father, friend...

and entertainer.

We mourn not only
the passing of a man...

who overcame the obstacles
of his earthly incarnation,

but also the passing
of the love that dwelled...

within his all-too-human heart.

We mourn the passing of the admiration
and the respect he instilled...

in all of
his professional colleagues.

We mourn the passing of
the laughter and the enjoyment...

he brought each audience
who saw him.

For althoughJerry was
a world-renowned escape artist,

- there is one strong box from
which none of us can escape.

Help me!

I got it.

Come on, down here.

I can't believe it.

Not having known the deceased
personally, I'm in no position...

to perform a proper eulogy.

I'm sure he was a nice guy,
etcetera, etcetera.

But as an admirer of the man's work,
I am in a position...

to perform an impromptu tribute
in his honor.

Namely, ramming this spike
into my chest!

- Don't you have any respect?
- I think I hit my left ventricle!

- This is a funeral!
- Get back, fascists!

- Have a little respect!
- Get him out of here!

You're awful!

- Attention-getter, that's all you
are! - I can't wait for the wake.

On his VICAPform, Jerald Glazebrook's
occupation was listed as "artist. "

Jerry was an artist.
The best escape artist since Houdini.

He should have been
headlining Vegas,

but his skin condition kept him
on the sideshow circuit.

I didn't realize that sideshows
were still in existence.

There are about two or three
of them still around.

I got the impression
that Glazebrook...

wasn't the only sideshow performer
residing here.

The town was founded
back in the '20s...

when some of Barnum and Bailey's troops
started coming down here...

during the winter off-seasons.

This town's history might help
explain our case's history.

A sideshow performer would have toured
much of the country over the years.

And their isolation from everyday society
caused by their physical deformities...

could have built up pathological
resentment so intense that murder...

they're as normal as anybody.

Until their arrests,
many serial killers...

are considered by their friends
and family to be quite normal.

If you truly regard
these people as normal,

then you must also consider
the possibility...

that they are capable
of committing these crimes.

It's just been my experience
that other people have...

a harder time accepting these people's
deformities than they do themselves.

Sheriff, what is this?

This design here,
it's copyrighted by Hepcat Helm.

Is that a local artist?

A bit too local. His workplace
is right behind my station house.

Do you think
that we could meet Hepcat?

# Watch my eyes
when you light them up #

Hepcat?

Hepcat!

#I'm in a frenzy #

Who are the rubes?

These are F.B.I. Agents
Scully and Mulder.

This is Hepcat Helm.
He operates a carnival fun house.

Oh, man! How many times have I
told you not to call it that?

It's not some rinky-dink carny ride.

People go through it,
they don't have fun.

People go through it,
they don't have fun.

They get the hell scared out of'em.
It's not a fun house.

- It's a tabernacle of terror.
- It's a fun house.

Mr. Helm, I wanted to ask you
about this menu illustration.

I recognize most of the historical
portraits you've drawn here,

but what's this here?

It's the Fiji Mermaid.

Is that what that thing is?

What's the Fiji Mermaid?

The Fiji Mermaid...
It's... It's the Fiji Mermaid!

It's a bit of a humbug
Barnum pulled in the last century.

Now, Barnum billed it
as a real live mermaid,

but when people went in to see it,
all they saw...

was a real dead monkey
sown on to the tail of a fish.

It's a monkey?

A mummified monkey.

It supposedly looked so bad, he had
to exhibit it as a "genuine fake. "

Oh, but see?
That's why Barnum was a genius.

You never know where the truth ends
and the humbug begins.

He came right out and said, "This Fiji
Mermaid thing is just a bunch of B.S. "

That just made people want
to go and see it even more.

So, I mean, who knows?

Maybe for box office reasons
Barnum hocked it as a hoax.

- But in reality...
- The Fiji Mermaid was a reality.

Sheriff, we're gonna need to find
a place to stay tonight.

There are lodgings right across the way.
But what's this about?

These tracks were found at several
of the past few crime scenes.

They've defied exact identification,
but one expert speculated...

that they might be
simian in nature.

You don't mean to tell me you think these
tracks were made by the Fiji Mermaid?

Do you recall what Barnum
said about suckers?

Tell me, have you done
much circus work in your life?

And what makes you think
I've ever spectated a circus,

much less been enslaved by one?

I know that many of the citizens here are
former circus hands, and I thought maybe...

You thought that because I am
a person of short stature...

that the only career
I could procure for myself...

would be one confined
to the so-called big top.

You took one quick look at me and decided
that you could deduce my entire life.

Never would it have occurred to you
that a person of my height...

could have possibly obtained
a degree in hotel management.

I'm sorry.
I meant no offense.

Well, then,
why should I take offense?

Just because it's human nature to make
instantaneous judgments of others...

based solely upon
their physical appearances?

Why, I've done the same thing
to you, for example.

I've taken in your
all-American features,

your dour demeanor,
your unimaginative necktie design...

and concluded that you
work for the government.

An F.B.I. Agent.

But do you see
the tragedy here?

I have mistakenly reduced you
to a stereotype... a caricature...

instead of regarding you as
a specific, unique individual.

But I am an F.B.I. Agent.

Register here, please.

Tell me, have you done
much circus work in your life?

I was on the stage
for most of my life.

I was a headliner.

Did it not bother you
to have people staring at you?

Best work I ever had.

All I had to do
was stand there.

Occasionally, I'd say,
"Ladies and gentlemen,

I'd like you to meet
my brother, Leonard.

Excuse him.
He's a little shy. "

Big laughs,
I tell you, big laughs.

Why'd you give it up?

Mr. Nutt, the kindhearted
manager here,

convinced me that
to make a living...

by publicly displaying
my deformity lacked dignity.

So now I carry
other people's luggage.

I believe these are your trailers.

If they are not, then I am wrong.

Oh, that's most considerate.

Thank you very much.

Good night. Sleep tight.
Don't let the bedbugs bite.

No. No, that's not
what I meant.

L- I didn't mean to imply
we had bedbugs.

L- I meant to say,
"Don't let... don't let the... "

- The Fiji Mermaids bite.
- Yes, that's right.

The Fiji Mermaids.
That's right. That's...

Th-That's exactly...

- Mulder, what is
this Fiji Mermaid business?

Every murder investigation begins
with a list of possible suspects.

You should try not to be
so exclusive, Scully.

As long as you try not to let
the atmosphere of this town...

distort your list
all out of proportion.

#I'm in a frenzy #

#Frenzy #

# This love gushes from my heart #

#Like water from the spout #

# You built a flame
from a tiny spark #

# You can really knock me out #

# Yeah, ease my mind with
your real cool line, Daddy #

#Fill my thought
with love divine #

# When you say you're mine
all mine #

#I'm in a frenzy #

What the hell?

Ah, ma'am...

The sheriff...
he, uh, wants to see you.

There's been another murder.

Hey, Scully, there's some blood on the
window here we should send to the lab.

Why run a test
on the victim's blood?

No, not this window.
This window.

This seems to be
the point of entry,

and there's a... smear of blood
on the outside of the window.

Why would there be blood
before the attack?

Why didn't the attacker
just come through the open door?

For a person to crawl
in and out of these windows,

they'd have to be a contortionist...
orjust plain crazy...

or both.

While they're performing the autopsy,
I wanna go down to the...

Yes!

How many people do you know that can get
out of a straitjacket in under three minutes?

Fortunately, none.

We caught your act
yesterday at the funeral.

That was some trick
with the railroad spike.

Dr. Blockhead
does not perform tricks.

Dr. Blockhead performs
astounding acts...

of body manipulation
and pain endurance.

You must be one of
those rare individuals...

whose nerve endings
don't register pain.

You just keep
telling yourself that.

Have you ever performed this,
uh, "act" on anyone else?

What, are you sick?

I tell my audiences that if they're
stupid enough to try this themselves,

they'll end up
with a slight lobotomy.

I am a professional.

Exactly how does one become
a professional blockhead? May I?

Starting in my homeland
of Yemen,

I studied with yogis,
fakirs and swamis,

learning the ancient arts
of body manipulation.

But most men know nothing
of these arts.

For instance, did you know that through the
protective Chinese practice ofTiea Bu Shan,

you can train your testicles
to draw up into your abdomen?

I'm doing that as we speak.

I saw him this morning down
by the river. He was eating a fish.

He knows between-show snacks
will ruin his appetite.

I could be mistaken.
Maybe it was another bald-headed,

jigsaw-puzzle-tattooed,
naked guy I saw.

Is this man also
a body manipulator?

No, in the classical sense,
The Conundrum's a geek.

He eats live animals.

He eats anything...
live animals, dead animals,

rocks, light bulbs, corkscrews,
battery cables, cranberries.

Human flesh?

Only The Conundrum
can answer that question.

But he doesn't answer questions.

He merely poses them.

When an audience partakes
in The Conundrum's Human Piranha act,

they are left to ask themselves,

"Why?"

But where are my manners?

It's an old slight of hand
my uncle once taught me.

He was only an amateur magician,
but he was still better than those two.

I'm going over to the lab to see if
they can test the blood on the window...

against the blood
on Dr. Blockhead's nail.

Everybody's uncle's
an amateur magician.

Welcome to my museum.

May I put to rest any questions
you may have conjured?

I was just reading about
the fascinating life of Chang and Eng...

and, uh, wondering if their death
was just as fascinating.

Oh, very much so.

On a cold January eve in 1874,

Eng awoke to find his brother had passed
away during the course of the night.

A few hours later,
Eng himself departed from this world.

Now, these facts themselves
may be less than fascinating,

but imagine...
imagine being Eng...

and lying there knowing...

that essentially
half your body was now dead,

that the rest
must inevitably follow...

and being able to do about it
absolutely nothing.

At the autopsy,
it was officially concluded...

that Chang died
of a cerebral hemorrhage.

And what was the official cause
of Eng's death?

Fright.

Do you have any information
on blockhead or geek acts?

This is an historical collection
on human curiosities.

Blockheads are skilled performers.

- Like magicians?
- Like sword swallowers who really do swallow swords.

And geeks are neither skilled nor
curiosities. They're merely unseemly.

- Not even attaining the level of gaffs.
- "Gaffs"?

Observe closely the dissimilarity
of the facial features.

Conjoined twins
are always identical.

These gentlemen
are phonies... gaffs.

Sort of like the Fiji Mermaid?

You're investigating
the Alligator Man's murder, yes?

I have something I believe
you might find of some interest.

What does this have to do
with the Glazebrook murder?

I've recently come into possession
of an authentic P.T. Barnum exhibit.

Now, I don't show this display
to all my customers.

Only those with the intellectual
curiosity to appreciate it.

Barnum billed it
as a "great unknown. "

I must first ask of you two favors:

Tell no soul
what you witness in here.

- And the second favor?
- An additional donation of five dollars.

Does Agent Scully know
that you're under her crawl space?

I was merely repairing
the plumbing on this unit.

I know what you're thinking, my friend,
but you are grossly mistaken.

Just because I'm not
of so-called average height...

does not mean I must receive
my thrills vicariously.

Not all women are attracted to
overly tall, lanky men such as yourself.

You'd be surprised how many women
find my size intriguingly alluring.

And you'd be surprised
how many men do, as well.

Oh, it's you.

Is Mr. Nutt finished
with the plumbing?

The blood from the window matched the blood
from the nail, but they were both "O" positive.

They've been sent
for further analysis.

I ran a background check
on Dr. Blockhead.

His real name is Jeffrey Swaim,
and he wasn't born in Yemen.

He was born in Milwaukee.
He does not hold a doctorate.

- Well, I ended up running a bit of a background check myself.
- On who?

On an orphan discovered
in the wild forest of Albania in 1943.

"Although physically adept
at catching his own food,

he could not speak a word,
save for a few savage grunts.

Brought to this country,
he was exhibited behind a locked cage,

necessitated by his feral ferocity,

where he would terrify onlookers
by devouring chunks of raw meat. "

However, for reasons
I could not ascertain,

he ran away from the circus
and spent a vague number of years...

mysteriously roaming about, supporting
himself through a number of nondescript jobs.

Eventually he wound up
in Gibsonton,

where he took up a career
in law enforcement...

and has spent the past
four terms serving as sheriff.

You're talking about
Sheriff Hamilton?

I'm telling you that
before becoming Sheriff Hamilton,

James Hamilton
was Jim-Jim the Dog-Faced Boy.

You know, Scully, hypertrichosis
does not connote lycanthropy.

- What are you implying?
- We're being highly discriminatory here.

Just because a man was once afflicted
with excessive hairiness,

we've no reason to suspect him
of aberrant behavior.

- It's like assuming guilt based solely on skin color, isn't it?
- Yeah.

May I ask what you're doing?

We're exhuming...

your potato.

May I ask why?

Sheriff, it's been documented
that many serial killers...

possess a fascination
with police work.

Some of them even holding positions
on their local force.

So, surveillance
of investigation team members...

is often utilized
as a precautionary...

We found out you used to be
a dog-faced boy.

Boy, look how skinny
I was back then.

- So that is you?
- Oh, sure.

I spent the first half
of my life as Jim-Jim.

Then one morning I noticed
a bald spot on top of my head...

and realized I wasn't only losing
my hair, but my career as well.

Eventually, all the hair went.
On top of my head, anyways.

The rest of my body's still pretty hairy,
which is... why I never go to the beach.

That doesn't quite explain
the potato.

I got, uh,
some warts on my hand.

That doesn't quite explain
the potato.

To get rid of warts, you rub
a sliced potato on your hand...

and bury it under a full moon.

The investigation
isn't going too well, is it?

So, tell me, Commodore,
why are the weirdos...

- the only ones that pay
their rent checks in advance?

I warn you,
you tattooed cretin.

I have a licensed firearm, and I am more
than eager for an opportunity to use it!

I found him.

He's dead. He's dead.

Lanny says all the doors and windows...

were locked from the inside.

Scully, come here.

He was like a brother to me.

I don't know if a contortionist
could get through that doggie door.

But look at this.

Lanny! Lanny!
Take it easy.

- You're gonna hurt yourself.
- So what?

So you might hurt me
in the process.

He gets this way sometimes.

I'll have to toss him
in the drunk tank.

We'll takeJeffrey Swaim
into custody.

Come on, Lanny. Let's go.

You know, Mulder,
for a while there...

I was beginning to suspect this case
involved something a bit more, um...

Freakish?

You really shouldn't complain
about banality, Scully,

when your main suspect
is the human blockhead.

It's open!

Mr. Swaim, federal agents.
We're here to...

It's a variation of
an American Indian Sun Dance ritual.

I suspend myself... by these hooks,

and the pain
becomes so unbearable,

I leave my body.

If people knew the true price of
spirituality, there'd be more atheists.

Mr. Swaim, we're here
to take you into custody...

to question you
about some recent murders.

I don't answer any questions
till I talk to my lawyer.

- Who's your lawyer?
- I represent myself.

Sir, if you're going to be
uncooperative, I'll have to handcuff you.

What gives you fascists
the right to do that?

Did I not mention
we're federal agents?

Did I not mention
I'm an escape artist?

Mulder, are you okay?

It's more comfortable
than a futon.

- Hey, look what I caught.
- Ouch!

What the hell?

No!

No!

No!

This has all the makings
of one of those mistaken identity,

miscarriage-of-justice things
that prove so popular on 60 Minutes.

Does this belong to you?

The Fifth Amendment
of our beloved Constitution says...

What is that?

It's Lanny in the drunk tank.

He'll be all right
once he sleeps it off.

No, I don't think he's
gonna sleep this one off.

There's been another attack.

How could anyone
have gotten in there?

No one got in,
but someone got out.

- What are you talking about?
- I'm not sure myself, Mulder,

but I think we'll know more
when we find Leonard.

"Leonard"?

Lanny's brother.

Oh, God,
they extracted the twin.

- No, the twin extracted itself.
- But it's an appendage.

Yeah, Mulder. This wound is identical
to the other victims' wounds,

with one exception...
he's not bleeding.

If you're trying to tell me his twin
brother can crawl out of his body...

and then go gallivantin' around town,
you're as drunk as he is.

You said it yourself, Sheriff.
It's what's inside that counts.

I have a feeling that Lanny
has an internal anomaly...

that allows his conjoining twin
to disjoin.

- But how? How could...
- How...

How could I turn him in
without turning myself in?

Lanny, why does he attack
other people?

I don't think he knows
he's harming anyone.

He's merely seeking...
another brother.

Are you in pain, Lanny?

It hurts.

It hurts not to be wanted.

I don't know
why he hates me so.

I've taken care of him
for all of our lives.

Maybe that is the reason why.

How long can he survive
outside of your body?

Long enough...

to understand that you cannot change
the way you were born.

Don't worry.

He'll come back.

He always does.

I'm still his only brother.

Sheriff, we're gonna need
the paramedics.

Scully, you're the medical expert.

If you think the twin can disengage,
I believe you.

But how mobile
could such a thing be?

Too mobile.

So, your twin can, uh...

And then...

What an act!

I'll cover the back.

Freeze!

What? The fun house.

I thought I heard a shot fired.

I think we'd better go outside
and catch this thing coming out.

It's the manager's dog.

The trailer park.

- Are you all right?
- Have you seen a, uh, uh...

Check out the area behind that trailer,
and let me know what you find.

- All right.
- Now, you're sure it was the twin you saw runnin' around here?

Maybe it was the Fiji Mermaid
and he jumped back in the river...

and swum his way back to Fiji.

Now you know how I feel.

- You're taking off?
- Are you kidding?

With that thing
still on the loose?

They've been searching
for it all day.

It can't have sustained itself
for this long.

It'll probably try to crawl
back up into its brother.

No, his brother Lanny
died last night.

I already performed the autopsy
on him this morning.

So I guess it's true,
you can never go home again.

His body wounds were nonfatal.

He died as a result of
advanced cirrhosis of the liver.

Oh, there's a moral to this story...
"lay off the booze. "

His body possesses
some anatomical discrepancies...

some offshoots of
the esophagus and trachea...

that almost seem
umbilical in nature.

- I've never seen anything like it.
- And you never will again.

Twenty-first century genetic engineering
will not only eradicate...

the Siamese twins
and the alligator-skinned people,

but you're gonna be
hard-pressed to find...

a slight overbite
or a not-so-high cheekbone.

You see, I've seen the future,
and the future looks just like him.

Imagine going through your whole life
looking like that.

That's why it's left up to
the self-made freaks like me...

and The Conundrum
to remind people.

- Remind people of what?
- Nature abhors normality.

It can't go very long without creating
a mutant. Do you know why?

- No, why?
- I don't either.

It's a mystery. Maybe some mysteries
are never meant to be solved.

What's the matter
with your friend?

I don't know
what his problem is.

Maybe it's the Florida heat.

I hope it's nothing serious.

Probably something I ate.