Original subtitles

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...

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen! And there, take that.

If anyone's listening.

Baker's Dozen.

Thirteen. I wonder what they'd think out there.

If they'd think at all.

I live just over there.

Heard you bell.

It rang 13 times.

That's just to remind us that the day of reckoning is near, that we all got to

lay down and pay up.

Is that funeral place yours?

Yes, it is.

Is it a church, too?

Well, it holds my kind of services now.

Are the tombstones yours?

Well, I'm the proprietor. You might say I'm in real estate.

Who owns the bodies?

You're such a sweet child.

If you guys want to ask no questions.

Right this way, gentlemen.

Dear, dear Mr.

Merrill Blythe, what a good life he had, and now he's gone.

What an unfortunate week it has been for our little community, gentlemen.

First of all, respected Mrs. Sheldon, then forthright Mr. Randall, then

young and virile Mr.

Worth, and now nice Mr.

Blythe. Dear me, dear me.

Well, thank you.

You can go.

You too.

Gentlemen, ladies, do you mind if I turn up the refrigeration?

I feel a hot spell coming on, and I wouldn't want you guys to catch cold.

Red light.

Statues.

I shall return.

Toodle -oo.

Kumbaya.

Check

out

the suit.

Good to see you, Benny.

Ooh, that's a coke shake you got there, Benny.

You just finished embalming a frigid woman, huh?

Hey, that's not bad.

You get it, huh? You get it, Benny?

Frigid woman?

Did you hear what I said?

Yeah.

Funny.

I would like... Speak up.

Ink. Can't hear you down there.

Black ink.

The biggest bottle you got.

Well, why didn't you say so?

What's so funny?

Nothing, so sorry.

That big enough?

Yes, glorious.

I'll take two.

Okay, decoration, various.

Pastry tube.

White sugar frost, two pounds.

Whipped cream, two pints.

Something extra to put in your refrigerator, huh?

Very funny, Mr. Flanger.

Do you have your own cake?

I got a piece of cake, Mr. Flanger.

A piece of cake.

I'll remember.

You laugh. I've got it noted.

You nudge and grin. It's on the record.

Never fear. It is I.

Now, to work.

Let us be thankful for what we're about to receive.

Dear Mrs. Shellman, how glorious you look with that wig pasted on your head

your teeth glued together without a trace of a smile.

There never was.

Remember?

Remember? I remember.

How you snubbed me, disdained me, while stuffing yourself with cream tarts and

chocolate eclairs.

And here you are, lying still.

You know, my dear lady, you have a serious, ambitious condition of your

That's been your problem your whole life.

Bad diet.

Too many parfaits.

Too many sundaes.

Too many cakes.

Pecan cake.

I'm gonna bake me the best cake ever baked.

Yeah, if you little cake lady.

All curly, cute, and decorated.

Little smile for eternity.

Aren't you cute?

Yeah.

We'll shut up for a thousand years, and nobody be the wiser.

Bye.

Mr. Ren, most beloved of all the races of the world.

So proud of your skin.

How you prized your paleness.

Pure, superior.

You said you hated all minorities.

A minority of inferiors.

Mice.

Quite so pale, Mr. Wren.

Your face looks like the fresh -driven snow.

Should we try a little blush?

Or should we go for the darker side of the moon?

There goes the neighborhood.

Edmund Worth.

Ready, Eddie.

I bet you this body's seen a lot of action, sir.

But you messed around just once too often, Eddie.

Someone was bound to rat on you in the end.

Hello, yeah?

Mr. McNamara. It's about your wife.

You know, Edmund, most men can repaint their houses, buy cars, make money.

But the one thing most men can't do is change their bodies.

And I've never had the kind of body that a woman would come up and tickle me on

the chin or kiss me on the mouth. So, Edmund, my boy, I'm going to fit you up

for a special coffin.

40 bricks, Edmund.

Makes up for 200 pounds of pectorals, biceps,

and triceps.

When I die, Mr. Worth, I hope I have an understanding assistant who will attach

my head to your body.

Because if I can't have a body like yours in life, at least I can have one

death.

Thank you.

Dear all,

merry well, Blight.

You alone in this town have never ridiculed or insulted me.

You alone, Mr. Blight, did not have to wait for death to become polite at

I thought of putting milk in you, you know, like the milk of human kindness,

run through your veins through all eternity.

But then, I recall you had died on it several times before with your comas and

your spells.

Well, it looks like you really had it this time, Mr. Blight.

But just in case you do wake up when you're six feet under, I think you might

like something to read.

So I'm going to give you my little book.

Benedict's Benedictions.

And it comes with a little flashlight.

It's all in here. A lot of laughs.

While I wait those dull hours in the graveyard.

The trio gossips jammed into the one category.

Rich Mr.

Beller. Birds dark naked.

Poor Mr. Dimity.

Gold coins on each eyelid.

Royer Greppin, not buried at all. Burned him. Put a dead polecat in his coffin.

And Miss Trimble, with parts of the Reverend Brown.

Oh, dear me.

That was naughty, wasn't it?

Monster! You're alive!

Defiler, say this.

Know the things I've heard. Wait till I tell on you.

Please, no!

You parrot!

Please, no. Tell the mayor, the sheriff, the council, the people. Please.

You dreadful man.

I'm sorry. You think these things have been going on in our town all these

years. I didn't. I'm sorry. Have you ever knew the things that you were doing

people? Who you monster.

Monster. I'm sorry.

Mutilation.

Ruination.

It's awful.

I'm sorry.

People have got to know!

Help! Here it is!

Oh dear, what a pity.

You! You out there!

You! Look what he's done!

You do it to us!

Don't stand for it.

Stop him!

Do something!

They can't do nothing to me. They can't. They can't hear you. Help me, please.

You're a foolish man.

You're a foolish and dying man.

So now die quickly, huh?

Somebody, please help.

I wish you'd stop talking. I can't stand to hear you talk.

You horrible man.

They'll get you.

This

time

you're going to stay dead.

Who's tolling my bell?

Who's out there?

Go away!

You can't come in. You can't. Go away.

You can't.

not in the church.

He's just not there.

He's not there. He's not in his mark to array.

Hey!

What? What? What?

Just what kind of storm was that last night?

The heavens are bleeding?

Where could it be?

Who knows?

Impossible. He couldn't be buried under all these gravestones.

Couldn't he?