Original subtitles

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, whooping cushions, and magical illusions.

I sent away for my first Johnson Smith catalog when I was ten because I'd heard

that you could buy things, strange things, that you dumped in water or

in your window box that grew and grew and grew.

Guess what?

Today is your lucky day.

Got some tickets to the ball game this afternoon. Right behind the first

baseline. What do you say? You want to go?

Sounds great, Dad, but... Are you waiting for something?

Morning, Tom.

Morning, Mr. Fortnum.

Morning, Mrs. Goodbody.

Ever seen to you that the whole world is just crawling with things?

And it ain't the creepers and crawlers and my lilacs.

It's invaders from out of 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.

There. Take that.

Oh, gotcha.

Tom Fortnum?

Special delivery.

Sign here, son.

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.

He's digging the Panama Canal.

There'll be tractors down there next.

Those are mushrooms, not toadstools.

Yes, mushrooms.

This week's project.

Toadstools!

No.

Just plain old Abyssinian mushrooms.

Beauties, huh?

Beauty?

Hi, neighbor.

Hi.

I get the

feeling everything's going to hell in a handbasket.

Yeah. Every blasted station.

Every newspaper, every TV news show.

Doom and damnation.

I think it's always been that way. It's just that now it...

TV and satellites, we learned more quickly what was always there.

Hugh, you ever have panics?

Panics? Night panics. Wake at 3 a .m.

Afraid.

Shivering at nothing.

Afraid of the dark and there's nothing there.

Afraid of your own wife's breathing.

So quiet.

Midnight.

Shivering.

You know what I mean?

Um, no, Roger, I don't.

You need a vacation.

What's intuition?

Uh, the stuff you know that you don't know you know.

That's it.

Now, 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

backs of my hands.

Well... Don't laugh.

I'm full up on dust and strange weather.

So, how about... So why am I afraid all the time?

My family? My friend?

You?

Thanks. Thanks? Hell.

Something awful is going to happen to all of us.

I don't know why, or what, or where.

I have no proof.

Put the dirt on my hands and the dust on my shirt.

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.

There's not much to go on.

Then we're sunk and lost.

Take care.

Son of a... Something awful is going to happen to all of

us.

I don't know why or what...

Is there a war declared somewhere tonight?

Or is it earthquake weather?

Who have you been talking to?

Doomsayers.

Nothing but doomsayers.

Mostly Roger Willis.

He's convinced that something, someone... Here's good news. It's just

24 hours. Look.

Oh, be damned.

Ugly? I hate to be a spoilsport, but I hope you eat these.

Come on, Ma, they're mushrooms.

I think I'd feed all of us poisonous fungoids.

Yeah, but how can you tell the difference?

Well, I'll tell you. It's simple. You just eat one of them, and then if you

dead, then they're not a mushroom.

I don't like them.

Thanks a lot.

How much for entrepreneurship?

Tom?

Tom?

Tom?

Hugh?

Dorothy?

Is Roger here?

Why would you... He's disappeared.

All his clothes are gone.

Why would he go and not say?

Roger? Gone.

And I've got this terrible feeling we'll never come back.

It's crazy.

Dad and I were out front, you know, throwing around the old softball.

And Dad said he had to go inside for a minute.

He left the car.

There was no taxi cab.

He must have walked wherever he went.

Well, I'll check the airport and the train station.

Done that.

No one knows anything.

Roger had this feeling. He just vanished completely.

Silly.

But now look.

There's got to be some natural explanation.

I only know a terrible thing has happened.

Feeling everything's going to hell in a handbasket?

You... You ever have panics?

Don't laugh.

Night panics.

Shivering at nothing.

All his clothes are gone.

Over a period of time, things gather.

Surprisingly. Why would he go and not say?

He must have walked wherever he went.

He'll never come back.

Nightmares about nothing.

Something awful is going to happen to all of us.

Any news?

I haven't slept all night.

Hello? Hugh, are you alone?

Roger?

Roger, where the hell are you?

On my way to New Orleans.

New Orleans?

Why?

I can't say. Quick, I had to call you.

Crazy.

Panic. Listen.

I'm listening.

You may not be able to call again.

Last time I may have control.

Control? I warn everyone on the block, next door, in town. Nobody except

delivery packages.

Why not?

Believe me.

Roger, is somebody holding you, forcing you? No, no. I wish they were alone.

I gotta go.

Warn everyone.

Roger.

Roger! Is that Roger?

Let me talk to him.

He hung up.

New Orleans.

New Orleans.

What? What?

I gotta go.

I think I'm losing my hearing.

Nonsense.

Then why do I hear things that people aren't saying?

And why do I imagine that Roger Willis is in big trouble?

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.

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 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?

Take over the world without firing a shot.

Hugh, let's get some sleep.

Dorothy, do you have any news?

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?

Yes. He's fined you.

I'm not too sure about my memory, though.

Well, what about that phone call?

You know Roger, Hugh.

Practical joker. That call was him all over.

Yeah, I guess.

Yeah, sure.

Oh, that's great news, Dorothy.

Good night, Hugh. Good night.

Business trip, huh?

The whole thing was just a big misunderstanding.

Now what are you doing?

Oh, a bit of dust or something.

Oh, isn't that great? That's great.

Hell, now Roger's going to come back. We'll just have a couple of drinks.

Probably all have a big laugh about it.

Hungry. Want anything?

No, I'm going to sleep.

Dad?

There's a sandwich in the fridge.

I need a snack.

It's midnight.

And I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd tend my crop.

Want a bite?

Heck! You think I'm going to get poisoned?

Here.

See? No offshock. No clot.

Health food.

But... Me and Joe are going to sell these things all around town.

What?

Here, try it. You'll like it.

Afraid? You're not a coward.

I mean, you've got to prove yourself to your son.

Sure, one bite.

Crazy. Panic.

Listen. Come on.

Take a bite.

Last time I may have control.

Believe me.

I mean, what could happen?

I believe everything.

Business trip, huh? You wouldn't want me to tell the kids at school you

chickened out over just one itty bite.

He'll never come back.

You hear?

No one knows anything.

Is he coming home? What did he say?

Then we're sunk and lost.

You don't imagine, do you, that a six -foot -tall mushroom out of space is

running a giant mushroom company in New Orleans?

Isn't Mom hungry?