All language subtitles for Kolchak.The.Night.Stalker.S01E19.The.Youth.Killer.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-squalor_track3_eng

Nowhere in man's history
does he display more tenacity,

more perseverance,
than in his search
for eternal youth.

Halting the relentless
process of aging has been
a constant dream of man's...

and woman's.

- Hecate--
-

Eternal youth--
Is it really a dream,

or is it possible
that somewhere someone
found the secret?

The following experience
gave me a new attitude...

on the whole subject
of youth and aging.

September 20, 8:05 p.m.

William Cubby, age 22,

deeply concerned with
retaining his youthful vigor,
his trim physique.

This concern had made him
a dedicated jogger.

Cubby would never know
if the jogging
really helped.

- He was the first
in a series of Chicagoans...
-

who were spared the ordeal
of seeing their youth
slip away, slowly.

See what can happen with all
this emphasis on staying young?
Poor old fool.

What's so unusual
about a man of 90 having
a heart attack and dying?

He was jogging. Jogging!

I'll be happy if I can bend down
and tie my shoelaces
when I'm 90.

If you take better care
of yourself, with the proper
food and exercise,

you should be able
to do everything at 90
that you could do at 19.

- Good morning, everyone.
- Good morning, Mr. Vincenzo.

- What a lovely morning today.
- Yeah.

You notice anything
different about me today?
Anything different?

- Different?
- Yes.

I lost five pounds.

Exercise,
yoga 45 minutes a day,
and I skip breakfast.

- Have we run out of things
to do around here?
- No.

You are working on
the swinging singles update,
Carl, right?

- Yeah, yeah, that's right.
- What have you come up with
so far?

Uh, listen, there have been
a lot of changes in the last
10 years in the dating scene.

That was the reason
for the update.

You will have it on my desk
by Friday, won't you?

- Friday. Right.
- Fine.

Uh, that's
just a rough draft.

Tony, I've got here...

a very nice French,
caramel-covered doughnut.

You can have it for breakfast.
I won't tell anybody.

This fellow
would have never reached 90
eating stuff like that.

- Yeah, but look what
he died from-- exercise.
- Carl--

Now, Tony,
that is a rough draft.
You understand?

- I understand.
- I'm just blocking it out--

I'm just gonna glance at it.
That's all.

Well, it's, uh--
It's very rough.

What's that?

- That's for colds and flu.
- What's the other one?

- That's vitamin "E."
- What's that for?

You know, Tony, there
was something very peculiar
about that old jogger.

This is quite good, Carl.
I will get the rest of it
on Friday?

- He was jogging
along the River Road--
- Carl, forget about that fella.

Nobody cares
about 90-year-old people!

- Tony--
- Carl, this is
a youth-oriented culture.

Their music,
clothing styles,
language--

That's where it is news-wise
at this point in time.

But that body
had no I.D. on it.

I mean,
it had no social security.

It had no Medicaid, Medicare.
It had nothing.

Carl, look, last week
on the Johnny Carson show, they
had an Indian, 110 years old.

He wore this feathered
war bonnet, and he was doing
push-ups, and it was dull.

- I get the point, Tony.
I get the point.
- I hope so.

It's, uh-- It's just that...

along that particular strip
along the River Road...

means that that old jogger
had to run for four miles.

I mean, a 90-year-old man.

If he had drove
to River Road, they'd have
found his car by now.

And if somebody
dropped him off down there,

whoever it was
would've come down
to claim the body by now.

But you're right, Tony.
Who cares? Nobody cares.

New York wants
that swinging singles feature.

It wants it light, perceptive,
full of insight and by Friday!

Right, right, right.
I get it, Tony. Right.

Ca--

The most conservative
newspaper in Chicago...

has a classified column
headed "Social Clubs."

The ads offer
computer matching,
astrological mating,

but it all boils down
to a simple need.

You want a girl, right?

No, not exactly.
What I really wanna know
is how it all works.

- I find you the girl of
your dreams is how it works.
- And then what happens?

Magic, love,
maybe even friendship.

Uh, here, take one of
these cards and fill it out,
and we'll get started.

Uh-huh. Well,
can I think about it?

- What's to think about?
- Oh, now, don't be nervous.

Why, I take care of everything.

Now, uh, generally,

you meet the girl
right here, usually--
come and sit down--

usually with her relatives,
and we have a nice cup of tea.

- Come and sit down.
- Yeah, all right, all right.

And it's very informal.

Um, is there something
you wanted to tell me?

- Uh--
- Something you're ashamed of?

No. You see,
I'm a newspaper reporter.

Well, that's not so bad.
I'll find you a girl anyway.

No, I don't want a girl.
See, I'm looking for an angle...

for a story I'm writing
on the singles scene.

You mean you're wasting
my time for nothing?

I chose you because I think
you've got the whole picture.
I mean, the whole schmear.

Besides that, I've got
a very tough editor, and I've
got a very short deadline.

- Are you married?
- Me? No. No.

- What's your
biggest competitor?
- Oh, singles apartments,

- singles bars,
computer matching.
- Oh?

- Have you ever been married?
- No. Never, never, never.

Uh-huh. Computer matching.
I thought that went out
with love beads.

Well, I watched
a lot of them fold up,
but there's still a few left.

- What's the biggest one?
- Max Match.

- Max--
- Oh, these people.

They're only concerned about
youth and physical beauty.

- Egomaniacs trying to
hook up with each other.
- Yeah.

I mean, charm,
steady work, sincerity--

These things
don't count for anything.

- Uh, you have a good job?
- Yeah, it's all right.

- What are your hobbies?
- None. I'm too busy.
I work all the time.

Oh, good.
That means you're ambitious.

- Oh, I've got a lot of nice
girls for you to meet.
- What?

What are you doing there?
What do you got?

No, Bella.
You got the wrong idea.

No, I'm-- I'm not
in the market for a wife.

Me, married?
That's ridiculous.

No, thanks. Thanks a lot, Bella,
but I've gotta go to work.

Oh, good.
Business does come first.

- Don't worry. I'll be in touch.
- Yeah.

Newspaperman.

Author.

September 21, 8:13 p.m.
Cynthia Tibbs,

young and beautiful
and determined
to stay that way,

was performing
her nightly exercise.

Cynthia's concern
over aging was more real
than she would ever know.

-

September 22, 10:00 a.m.

I had spent the night
hitting singles bars,

hearing all about biorhythms,
Harvey Wallbangers,

rugby, tuned exhausts
and, of course, sex.

I got enough to write
that part of my feature.

Singles apartments were up
for the next day,

and I found they came
in all sizes in varying
degrees of exclusivity.

I decided to start at the top.

This way.

- May I have that, please?
- Oh, yes, of course.

- I was just looking for someone
in authority to give it to.
- Mmm. Thank you.

- What did
the medical examiner say?
- May I ask who you are?

Yes, of course.
See, Kolchak, I.N.S.

- You're Kolchak?
- Yeah, that's right.

You're the one
the precinct captains
are always talking about?

- What do they say?
- That you're a pinwheel.

That's because those idiots
don't know--

I don't accept
other people's judgments.
I make my own evaluations.

Are you sure that you work on
the Chicago Police Department...

and not for some
independent agency
I don't know anything about?

Uh, Chicago P.D.,
Sergeant Orkin.

I like to think I understand
the value of the news media.

I feel the police and press
should work in concert.

- Where you been all my life?
- In Edgewood,
out in the boonies.

My first case is
a hundred-year-old Jane Doe,

in a singles playground,
dressed in a body stocking.

Uh-huh. Why would she wear
a ring that was so loose
it falls off her finger?

When my grandmother hit 80,
she insisted on wearing
her stockings over her shoes.

Sometimes
they get that way.

- They do, huh?
- Yeah.

-

- Miss Tibbs?
- Just a minute.

Take a look around the bedroom.
What's the party's name?

Cynthia Tibbs,
a professional
convention hostess.

- Beautiful girl.
- Is she at work now?

- I guess, or she's
sleeping out these days.
- Uh-huh.

She went away and just left
this sliding door wide open?

Why not? Who's gonna rob her
up here on the third floor?

- Besides, this is
a security building.
- Uh-huh.

Miss Tibbs mention
anything to you about
having a relative staying?

- Mother, grandmother, aunt?
- No, no.

- No sign of an older woman's
clothes and no suitcases.
- What's this doing on?

She probably left that on
so people would think
someone was home.

I do the same thing,
in case of robbery.

I thought this was
a security building.

This is the last apartment.
I don't know how the old girl
got where she got,

but she didn't take a gainer
off one of these balconies.

- Has anybody been in
to identify him?
- Nope.

- What about the old lady
they brought in today?
- Are you kidding?

Read the coroner's report.
Puts them both at
about 100 years old.

Yeah.

Nobody comes in
to identify people that age.

You know, he must have lived
a rich, full life to have
hung on to such a ripe old age.

Mmm. Yeah. It says on here
the cause of death
was heart failure.

- What about the old lady?
- Same. Do you mind
if I lower the sheet?

- My arms are getting tired.
- Wait. There's a mark
on his finger.

- It looks like a ring mark.
- Do you got the ring?

It may be
in the personal
belongings box.

- Personal belongings box.
- Uh-huh.

Uh-huh. "11684."

- Uh, how much, Gordy?
- Not this time.

You're always
down in the morgue
asking special favors.

- No, I always pay.
- You promise money,
but you never come through.

No, you got me mixed up
with somebody else.

- How about five bucks?
- Nope.

We morgue attendants
are always getting
burned by you.

We talked it over,
and we want a portable TV
for when things are slow.

- Color.
- A color television set?

Are you out of your mind?
I don't have that kind of money.

By the way, that glass peeper
belongs to the old man.

Why wasn't it
in the autopsy report?

The pathologists don't
bother doing full workups
with real old people.

I mean, everything's
wrong with them.

It goes in
the belongings box.

Listen, Gordy,
I've got to get in that box.

Come on.
You know I can't
afford a television set.

Aw, how much can it cost ya?

- Well, black and white?
- Color.

- Black and white.
- Eighteen-inch screen?

- Used.
- It's a deal.

- That's the glass eye.

Glass eye. Right. Okay.

- Jogging trousers.
- Shoes.

- Shoes.
- He had big feet, huh?

- This is his jacket.
Down here--
- What's this?

- A key.
- Uh-huh.

Where's the ring?
There's no ring in here.
Where is it?

Well, either he wasn't
wearing it when he died,
or it fell off.

No one here took it.
Nothing gets you fired so fast.

Yeah, all right.
Concerning
your television set--

- Please, please, no threats.
- N--

We made a deal,
and I let you
look in the box.

- Is it my fault if the ring
isn't in there?
- Well, uh--

- Now, I think the TV'll
go right there.
- Uh-huh.

And if I'm not watching
Let's Make a Deal
by the end of next week,

there'll be no more deals
down here.

Yes, sir. If Monty Hall
can't liven this place up,
there's no hope.

Thanks a lot, Gordy.

You there, there's no parking
along this stretch of the road.

- What do you got there?
What do you got there?
- Huh? Oh. Uh--

A four-leaf clover.

Yes?

Send him in.

Come in.

Well, this is nice, really.

It's comfortable for me.

- May I call you Lance?
- Sure. That'd be terrific.

- The computer was right.
You're charming.
- Yeah.

Sit down.

Max Match is very exclusive
in itself, Lance,

but within
the general membership
there are superior people.

Truly superior
in every respect.

- The computer picks them out.
It picked you.
-

This means that you will
be matched with the most
beautiful people in Chicago.

- You will be a member
of the Olympians.
- Is it expensive?

No, there's no charge.

It's an indulgence of mine.

You see, beauty and youth
are the most important things
in the world to me.

I have to ask you a question.
It's very important.

Was everything on
your application truthful?

I mean, do you have
any physical imperfections?

- No, none at all.
- But there is something.

Well, my name
really isn't Lance Mervin.
I changed it legally.

Well, that
doesn't matter. The name you
picked suits you very well.

- Thank you.
- This makes you an Olympian.

Congratulations.

Now all the gods and goddesses
will know who you are.

And this scroll
makes it official.

- When does the action start?
- Oh, tonight.

Well, I don't like
what you're doing, Irvin.

Mother,
can't you call me Lance?

No. You were Irvin
when I was in labor.

You were Irvin when I
fed you with my breast.

- You'll always be Irvin for me.
- I know.

What kind of a name is Lance
for a cost accountant?

That's the idea.
I'm trying to get my
identity crisis together.

- What?
- I want to change my image.

I don't understand that.

And I don't understand
you using a machine either...

to pick some person you could
spend your whole life with.

- Are you listening to me?
-

Or maybe you're thinking
just of tonight.

I'd like to see
the kind of girl
you asked for.

I asked for a
girl just like you.

Wash your hands.

Mmm.

Some kind of lady you're meeting
in those short pants, Irvin.

These are tennis shorts.

- It's what you wear
on a tennis date.
- Mm-hmm.

Call me Lance.

Don't be out late, Irvin!

The key I had pilfered...

was stamped with
the number 118 "E."

- "E" what? It took
some footwork on my part,
-

but I found a building
on Akron Street
that matched the number.

Wrong floor. I'm downstairs.

Hello?

Hello?

Hello!

Anybody home?

Phew.

"William Cubby.
Max Match Corporation."

The occupant's name
was William Cubby,

and whatever he was now,
he had been considered
a very special single...

by Max Match
just a few days ago.

The scroll welcomed him
into the inner circle...

of the super-beautiful--
the perfect people.

But perhaps Cubby
wasn't perfect.

Oh.

Indeed, it seemed
that William Cubby
wasn't perfect at all.

And Irvin, a.k.a. Lance?
He would never again
be concerned about his image.

His mother was right.

Lance's appointment
had indeed been with
a different kind of lady.

Yeah, that's right.
And, of course, I thought
about you immediately--

about what you said
about wanting to work in concert
with the press, with me.

- I said that?
- Yeah. Well,
here's our opportunity.

You can provide me
with the proof that I need.

Uh, proof--

Proof a hundred-year-old
jogger is actually...

a 22-year-old stereo salesman
named William Cubby--

that the two men
are one and the same?

- Yeah, that's right.
I know what you're thinking.
- Uh-huh.

You're thinking, why should I
supply him with proof?

- What's in it for me, right?
- Right.

Why did you transfer here
from Wedgewood?

- Edgewood.
- Right. Why did you
make the move?

It was for excitement
and thrills
and advancement, right?

Okay, now picture this.
Picture yourself walking right
into your captain's office,

and you tell him that
you got this case licked--

that all these old people,
who are embarrassing...

everybody in the department--
everybody else-- by dropping
dead all over the place...

aren't really
old people after all.

They're really
a bunch of virile,
supple swingers!

- You are a pinwheel.
- What?

When I came back that
first day and told the captain
you weren't such a bad guy,

he almost busted a gut,
finally had to go
to the men's room.

Look here. They stuck this
in my coffee mug.

"A pinwheel for a pinhead."

Well, I wouldn't pay
any attention to that.

They're always kidding,
those guys.

Now, the old man in the morgue
had a glass eye-- blue--
and so did William Cubby.

It was marked right down
on his driver's license.

Here it is. Here it is.
There's the spare blue eye.
See?

- Our case rests on a glass eye?
- Yeah. Yeah, that's right.

It kept nagging me.
You see, something was wrong
with the driver's license.

And sure enough,
there it was--
artificial eye.

Let me get this straight.

You want me to go to the captain
and tell him I've licked
the case with a glass eye?

People aging a lifetime
overnight?

Oh, no. You see, the door key
that was found on the old man
fit Cubby's apartment.

Now, what you have to do
is you have to see...

if Cubby ever had
his fingerprints taken.

Then you take
those fingerprints,
you go down to the lab,

and you lift the prints
off the old man down there
and compare the two of them.

And if you do,
that's our proof!

That's all the proof
that I need--
you need-- we need.

I can just see
the print boys' faces when I
tell them why I want the work.

Hey, what key the old man had?
How'd you get this?

Did you take
personal belongings
out of the morgue?

- Would I do a thing like that?
- You robbed
our Cook County Morgue?

Well, Sergeant, you know,
it isn't a shrine.

- It's just a morgue.
- Get out.

- There was an--
- I said, get out.

But I thought we were gonna
work in concert together.

Concert. When I start
waving my baton,
it'll be over your head.

- Well, if that's the way
you feel about it.
- Here. And take this with you.

How about it?
Have you seen Cynthia Tibbs?

Nothing. Like I told
you police before,
that's her lifestyle.

You know, in and out,
come and go.

She's probably
here in the building,
in another apartment.

For two whole days?

I guess you haven't been
single for a few years.

I was never that single.

What's that,
some kind of clue?

"This is to certify Cynthia
Tibbs has been selected
by the Max Match Corporation."

Looks like she was
some kind of a member of,
uh, some kind of a society...

at the Max Match Corporation.

Uh, miss?

- Would you fill
these out, please?
- Sure.

Uh, miss, could I have--

Hey, what's all this
medical background?
Scars and operations?

- They really get personal.
- That's the idea.
It makes it exclusive.

- I like it that way.
- Under partner preference,
I'm gonna put down...

vegetarian, Sagittarius,
on the cusp.

- What do you think?
- I'll take any chick...

who's on a macrobiotic diet,
who's into Tantric yoga.

What ever happened to
the girl just like the girl
that married dear old Dad?

It's a song.

- Miss--
- Would you follow me,
please?

- Right this way.
-

Are you being helped?

No, and, uh,
I'm being ignored.

- I'd like to know why.
- What can I do for you?

I would think the first thing
I do is fill out one of
those application forms.

I'm sorry, but--

Linda, I'll see
the gentleman.

Wowee! Looks like a boudoir.

I'm sorry.
I think there's been
a misunderstanding.

- You see, we only
accept people under 30.
- Uh-huh.

Is that for your
general membership,
or is that restricted...

to the special group
that you call the Olympians?

Now, why would
an attractive man
like you be here?

- I wanna be an Olympian.
- You don't need us.

You're very male.
You have the confidence
to dress as you like,

and, I suspect,
do as you like
with everything, Mr.--

- Kolak. Yeah.
- Kolak.

Boy, this is really
some office.

- You should see the joint
that I have to work in.
-

- What do you do, Mr. Kolak?
- I'm a writer.

You know, I've never seen
painted furniture like that
before in an office.

It's just terrific.
You got more of it back there?

- Uh, our computer's back there.
- Oh.

- It's not very aesthetic.
- Yeah. Yeah.

You use a camera
in your writing?

No. No, it's just
a hobby of mine. No.

That's all. And half
the time, the darn thing
doesn't even work.

- Whoops! There she goes again.
- See, it's just--

What kind of writing do you do?
Short stories or novels?

Uh, yeah, both. Yeah.

I'm an avid reader.
Any titles I might recognize?

No. No, I don't think so.

I don't have
much of a readership
here in the States.

My publisher thinks
my stories are much too bizarre.
Like the one I wrote...

about young people
who were being turned
into crones in a minute.

- Just like that, they're dead.
- It's unusual, at any rate.

You've got an unusual
job here. How'd you get
this kind of a job?

- It was a fluke.
- I love flukes!

I've written some
of my best stories
about flukes.

I hate to be rude,
but I'm afraid I'm gonna
have to ask you to go.

For some reason,
around this time of day,
I get very tired.

- Yeah, but--
- Nice talking to you,
Mr. Kolak.

Yeah, yeah,
but you haven't told me
about the Olympians.

Maybe next ti--

After my enlightening
conversation...

with the beautiful
Helen Surtees,

I ran a check
through tax records
and business licenses.

The Max Match dating service
was almost brand-spanking new.

No one knew where it came from
or what other branches it had.

It seemed to me
that such mysterious
origins...

warranted what we
in the press call
"the midnight interview."

Hecate--

Rene Michele,
first-grade teacher,

was anticipating
an exciting evening...

arranged for her
by the Max Match Corporation.

But her kids had worn her out
that day, making her feel
older than her 23 years.

Rene had opted for a nap
before getting dressed.

Rene never heard her alarm.

She never awoke from her nap.

The next day, Rene's class
would have a substitute teacher.

I don't get it. Your hunch
was right about it being Greek,
but it's ancient Greek--

a prayer for
a sacrifice to Hecate,
the goddess of youth.

- What kind of a sacrifice?
- What kind of sacrifice?

All that mattered was that
they be physically perfect.

Oh. So this Hecate
had pretty high
standards, right?

All the Greek gods
were easily offended.

Everything had to be
absolutely perfect,
just right.

As if it came out
of a computer, right?

I think this is
the sacrificer right here.
Here.

The most beautiful woman
in the world.

The face that launched
a thousand ships.
Helen of Troy.

That's Helen Surtees.
She runs the Mix Match--
Max Match computer company.

- What are you talking about?
- Yeah.

She resembles every statue
of Helen I've ever seen.

I'd give everything
to get next to that.

I think that's the deal--
everything.

You know, every time
I talk about the classics,

I wish I was back in college
teaching again.

But there were all those
beautiful girl students.

- I could never keep
my head on straight.
-

Well, anyway,
Helen was half mortal.

She was a demigoddess,
and she'd made a deal
with Hecate.

The Randolph, please.

No, I'm sorry, Jack.
This cab's taken.

No hurry. I got a hangover
that could kill a buffalo.

- Conventions are murder.
- Yeah, I can tell, yeah.

Helen's deal with Hecate
was for eternal youth, right?

- That's the story.
- Hey, you got her number?

I wound up with
a real bowwow last night.

You are referring
to my sister!

Oh, I can see
she's a lovely lady.

Suppose something went wrong
with the sacrifices.
What happened?

The wrath of the gods.

A shepherd once
put up a sick lamb
for a sacrifice to Diana.

Yeah?

- She turned him to stone.
- Stone?

- That's right.
- Stoned? Who's getting stoned?
Who's this Diana?

Listen, can't you let me in
on any of this action, huh?

Kaz, were the sacrifices
to Hecate prepared
in any special way?

No. Nothing elaborate.

They were always marked
with some kind of medallion
or ornamentation of some kind.

- Ornamentation?
You mean like a ring?
- Sure.

Look, when I said
I'm in no hurry, I didn't mean
we should spend the day here.

Hey, why don't you
take another cab?

Who do you think
you're talking to, cabbie?

I am the president
of my own feed company.

I flew here first class.

I'm staying at the Randolph,
the biggest hotel in the world.

Twenty-four hundred rooms.

Hey, sport, you are not
staying at the biggest hotel
in the world.

The Hotel Rossiya in Moscow
has 3,200 rooms,

and your hotel's nothing.

- Who counts Communists?
-

- All right. Come on, Kaz.
Let's get this thing off, huh?
- Yeah.

- Mayonnaise?
- It's an old Greek remedy.

- Nothing greasier
under the sun.
- Mayonnaise?

Yeah. I had a kid
get his head stuck out...

- in that iron-rail fence
of mine out front there.
-

Stuck a little mayonnaise
on his cheeks, and he popped
right out of there.

Yeah. Will somebody
answer the telephone, please?
Ron, are you so busy?

- It's for you. It's for you.
- Huh? Excuse me, Kaz.

- Hello?

Hello, Mr. Kolchak.

- Bella Sarkof.
- And how are you tonight?

- I'm very busy.
- And I'm not?

I've been working
like a beaver
to find you a girl.

Her name
is Natalie Kravarik,

- a dental assistant,
38 years young.
-

Bella-- Bella,
I don't want a girl.
I don't need your services.

- Well, good night, Carl.
- You don't
need my services.

Robert Redford you are,
all of a sudden?

- Good night, Emily.
- Emily? Who's Emily?

- Good night, Mr. Vincenzo.
- Don't worry, Bella!

- Good night, Miss Emily.
- I've got somebody else
for you!

He's a police sergeant,
unmarried and young.

Oh, hey, that's a find.
A wonderful mate.

- They're eligible for pensions.
- Good night, Mr. Vincenzo.

Yeah. Yeah, his name
is Sergeant Orkin.

You can call him
at the 12th Precinct.

He's lonely, new in town,
and he's just right for Natalie.

You're telling me
my job already?

If not Natalie,
maybe someone else.

Oh, when I get hold
of one like him,
I sink my teeth in,

and I don't let go
until rings are exchanged.

D-Don't talk to me
about rings.

Carl!
- Not now, Tony. Not now.

I'll talk to you
tomorrow morning about
that singles assignment.

- I got problems now.
- Eh. I don't know
what to do with that.

Is there any other way
we can break Helen's spell?

Yeah. There is one way.

- Kolchak!
- Not now, Tony.

- Now, Carl, please!
- Please?

Tony?

- Tony, are you all right?
Where are you?
- Over here.

- What are you doing there?
- Help me up, will you?

Tony, you called me in
here to show me how you
practice your yoga?

Carl, help me get up!

Why don't you start
with a beginner's position,
something simple?

- This is
the beginner's position!
- Oh. Here.

- I'm sorry about that, Tony.
- Here, try this hand.

- What do you got on your hand?
- Mayonnaise.

- Mayonnaise?
- Yeah.

- Look at that. They left work
with all the lights on.
- All right. What's the story?

Carl, did I hear you say
you're gonna discuss
the singles feature tomorrow?

- Yeah, tomorrow. Yeah.
- Tomorrow is Friday.

That's when it's due
in New York.

Well, the story
is all finished.

It just needs a little polishing
in the morning, and I'll send
it right off. Come on, Kaz.

- Well, the priests
were very powerful.
- Uh-huh.

Their enemies
had to destroy the temple
in order to make them powerless.

- Destroy the temple.
- Do you mind
if I read the copy?

After all,
I am the bureau chief.

Yes, absolutely, Tony.
Absolutely.

Tomorrow morning,
first thing, I'll spitball
a few ideas at you.

Spitballing a few ideas
is when you start a feature,
not when you're polishing it.

No, that's the way I work.
I spit and polish
at the same time.

- Thanks, Kaz. I owe you.
- Hey!

I didn't say
that destroying the temple
was gonna work.

Destroy the temple?
Destroy what temple?

Kolchak, come back here!

What temple
are you gonna destroy?

Kolchak! What-- What temple
is he gonna destroy?

What is he gonna--
Hey, who are you?

That's pretty strenuous exercise
for a man your age, isn't it?

It's pretty strenuous exercise
for a man any age.

You've ruined some
very expensive statues.
Museum quality.

- And what did it get you?
- Well, your temple's ruined.

According to Kaz, Hecate ought
to be destroying you about now.

I don't think you're qualified
to speak for Hecate.

It's you she'll destroy.

You had the stupidity
to put on that ring.

Imagine the feeling when
your heart ages decades...

in a matter of seconds...

and finally jams up
like an old clock.

Well, how can Hecate
accept me?

I mean, I'm not
a perfect sacrifice.
Far from it.

As I said before,
I don't think you're qualified
to speak for the gods.

-

As a matter of fact,
I'm not the first imperfect
offering you've made.

Did you know that
William Cubby wore this?
It's a glass eye.

- You're lying.
- No.

No, I'm not lying,
but I think Willy Cubby was.

See, he didn't say anything
to you at all, huh?

- Ha-ha!
You made fools of the gods!
-

Hecate! Hecate!

-

I took some pictures,
but it seemed pointless.

The destruction of the room
would be labeled vandalism
or a faulty sprinkler system.

I don't need any
photographs of Helen.

You see, she would always be
as she always was--

cold and beautiful
and unchanging.

Uh-- Oh, as a postscript,
I offer this bit of advice.

Should you ever
find a ring, no matter
how pretty or valuable,

consider well before
you slip it on your finger.

You may never
get it off again.