All language subtitles for elviras_movie_macabre_a_bucket_of_blood-01

Oh, why, hello, darling. It's me, that
gal who puts the peace in masterpiece,

Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. You know,
yesterday I came across a quote from

Leonardo.

A good painter has two main objectives
to paint, man and the intention of his

soul. And I was like, whoa, dude, that
Ninja Turtle is so deep.

But you know what got me thinking? I
mean, art goes for lots and lots of

I could be immortal.

And rich. If I could just tap into my
inner dolly. And I'm not even into

music.

I call this one good.

Oh, boy, you know, my little
afflictionados.

I may not know much about art, but I
knows what I like. And nowadays, anyone

just, like, sneeze on a canvas and call
it art. And if anyone can do that and

strike it rich, well, Shirley is my
name, Shirley.

I thought to myself, self, you are
creative.

To be uncreative, you might as well be
in your grave.

Or in the army.

Exactly, man.

God knows I already spent enough time
laying around in graves.

That's why I decided to be all I can be
and watch Roger Corman's testament to

the underground art movement of the late
50s, A Bucket of Blood.

Now, rumor has it that some theaters at
the time of its original release offered

free admission if you brought them a
real bucket of blood.

I hope they didn't reuse those buckets
for popcorn.

Anyway, while I toil away on my piece de
resistance, let's get to work on

another piece of art.

A bucket of blood here on movie.

I will talk to you of art, for there is
nothing else to talk about.

For there is nothing else.

Life is an obscure hobo bumming a ride
on the omnibus of art.

Burn gas, buggies, and whip your sour
cream of circumstance and hope.

And go ahead and sleep your bloody heads
off.

Creation is.

All else is not.

What is not creation is graham crackers.

Let it all crumble to feed the creator.

The artist is.

All others are not.

A canvas is a canvas or a painting.

A rock is a rock or a statue.

A sound is a sound or is music.

is a creature or an artist.

Where are John, Joe, Jake, Jim, Jerk?
Dead.

Dead. Dead.

They were not born before they were
born. They were not born.

Where are Leonardo, Rembrandt, Ludwig?

Alive. Alive.

Alive. They were born.

Bring on the multitude with a multitude
of fishes.

Feed them to the fishes for liver oil.

Nourish the artist.

Stretch their skins upon an easel to
give him canvas.

Crush their bones into a paste that he
might mold them.

Let them die.

By their miserable deaths become the
clay within his hands that he might form

ashtray or an ark.

For all that is comes through the eye of
the artist.

The rest are blind fish swimming in the
cave of aloneness.

Swim on, you maudlin, muddling, maddened
fools.

And breathe at one bright and sunny...

Some artist will bait a hook and let you
bite upon it.

Bite hard and die.

In his stomach, you are very close to
immortality.

Waller?

Waller, what are you doing here? I was
looking at Carla's picture. Do I pay you

to look at pictures?

Come on, get to work.

I was just looking. There are empty cups
all over the place. Clear them out.

You shouldn't be so rough on him,
Leonard.

Yes, I will. All right.

They look good.

Yes, man. How you making it? Fine, man.
How about you?

He dresses like my grandma.

Valdez, Vice.

Yeah, McCroy checking in.

They took over a couple of minutes ago.

Anything new at the door?

Well, nothing you can pound nails in. A
couple of hustlers.

One of them's short, fat, brunette,
named Skinny.

The other one was short also. She was
bleached.

Name of fat?

Probably. I didn't get it.

They didn't give any pictures, though.
Guess you can keep an eye on them.

Okay. Any heads?

Well, Jerry Sachs looked like he was
straight.

I'm sure he's on it anyway.

Didn't see any pushers around the place.
Lou said he'd check out on Jerry. He'll

sound him out later if he gets... He's
lost control of his lip.

Okay, Art.

Go on home and get a good night's sleep,
you'd think.

Okay. So long.

Everyone listen to my new poem. Do you
think they really heard it? I heard it,

Mr. Brock.

Thank you, Walter. I'm sure you did.

Bring on the multitude with a multitude
of fishes.

Feed them to the fishes for live royal
to nourish the artist.

That was word for word.

Is it? I forgot.

You mean you don't remember your own
poem?

I refuse to say anything twice.

Repetition is death.

I don't get it.

When you repeat something, you are
reliving a moment, wasting it, severing

from the other end of your life.

I believe only in new impressions, new
stimuli, new life.

I thought you believed that life is an
obscure hobo bumming a ride on a... I do

believe that, Walter, but I also believe
creative living.

To be uncreative, you might as well be
in your grave or in the army.

They tried to draft me once.

I couldn't pass the test.

Walter, Leonard's looking at you.

He's just about gone.

Walter has a clear mind.

One day something will enter it, feel
lonely, and leave again.

Yes,

cats, yes.

If you want to know how beatniks live,
William and me will show you. We'll

introduce you to some wild ones.

You may even discover an artist of your
own.

And how much is that going to cost?

What cost? A couple of bucks.

You want to meet some beatniks, don't
you?

Oh, no, it's the artist. I'm just crazy
about artists.

All that is comes through the eye of the
artist.

The rest are just blind fish swimming in
a cave of aloneness. Oh, you must be an

artist. And working as a busboy, too.

Feed him that he will be satisfied.

The artist is. All others are not.

That's most intriguing.

Are you a painter?

Well, no. I work... I'm working on
something that's not ready yet.

What is it, man? Finger painting?

Draw me a picture of a house, Walter.

Make some smoke coming out of the
chimney. I am working on something. I'll

you soon. Walter?

Yep,

this movie blows.

I'll tell you, artists are nuts. I mean,
I cut off an ear or two in my time, but

that was blowing to someone else.

The artist is.

All others are not.

Yes, Jeff, yes.

The artist is.

A damn con artist.

You called that a poem?

I mean, it didn't even rhyme.

And you are talking to a girl who really
understands the oral tradition.

Don't scout now, Kath.

There's more heaviness right after this.

You get a good look, kid?

Go on home.

Hello, Mrs. Swickard.

Oh, Walter, you look awful pale.

What did you have to eat tonight?

I had a salami sandwich, Mrs. Swickard.

Oh, if you were my son. Why don't you
let me fix you a nice bowl of soup? It

won't take but a minute.

Oh, it's okay. I can fix myself
something. Besides, I got something

do. Oh, say, Walter, did you see
anything of Frankie tonight when you

I didn't see him at all.

Well, if you do, tell him I got a nice,
fresh piece of halibut for him.

Tell him that?

I mean, do you think he'll understand?
He's only a cat.

Good night, Boulder.

Frankie? Canvas is a canvas or a
painting.

A rock is a rock or a statue.

A sound is a sound or it's music.

Well, be a nose.

Be a nose.

Frankie, shut up!

Oh, what's the matter, Frankie? How'd
you get yourself stuck in a wall?

Wait a minute, I'll get you out.

Oops.

Frankie?

Frankie?

You all right, Frankie?

Wow,

Rick Mortis sent in fast.

Oh, Frankie.

I'm sorry.

Poor Mrs. Swickard.

She had a nice fresh piece of halibut
for you.

I'll give you two of them in the
morning.

Repetition is death, Frankie.

You know, the secret to making good art
is expressing yourself and tapping into

that deep, dark emotion that lays just
under the surface and releasing it

without any fear of judgment.

Look, Ma. I made an ashtray.

Welcome back, darling. I'm expecting a
phone call from the local art critic,

Heinrich Zeitgeist, to give me some
advice about my new autistic venture.

Hello, Mr. Zeitgeist.

Okay, yeah, I'm just dying to pick your
brain. What is the hottest thing going

on in the art world right now?

Well, nothing you can pound nails in, a
couple of hustlers.

Oh, good. I mean, I'm lousy with
woodworking anyway, despite what you've

So these hustlers, what are their
subjects like?

Are they, you know, glamorous nude
models?

What I'm short, fat, brunette, named
Skinny.

Ooh, irony, the artist's greatest
weapon.

They didn't give any pictures, though.
Guess you can keep an eye on them.

Oh, you bet.

This little art student does her
homework.

Now, my art teacher, Jerry Sachs, is
fabulous. I mean, I stay after class all

the time and pose nude for his life
drawings.

He makes me feel so comfortable.

Well, Jerry Sachs looked like he was
straight.

I'm sure he's on it anyway.

Oh,

no, no, no, no way, Jose.

That man is gayer than Christmas.

Oh, look, thanks for your advice, but
I'm not sure how good of an art critic

are with such lousy gaydar.

Okay, so long.

Uh, yeah, so long.

Oh, well, stick around, darling. I'm
bound to take the art world by storm.

there's more Bucket of Blood as Movie
Macabre continues right after this.

Let them die.

and by their miserable deaths become the
clay within his hands that he might

form an ashtray or an ark.

Pray that you might be his diadem, gold,
glory, paint, clay, that

he might take you in his magic hands and
bring from your marrow wonders.

We're a John Joe Jim jerk.

Dead, dead, dead.

Hi, Carla.

Walter, what are you doing here so
early? Well, I brought something. I

you'll like it. Take that stuff to the
laundromat, Walter.

Huh? Don't mind him.

What have you got? It's a thing I made.

You like it? What's he got?

Oh, come look at this, Lenny.

Where'd you get that? Auction? I made
it.

You made that?

I said I did, didn't I?

Very good.

Honest? Honest.

What's it called?

Dead Cat.

Dead Cat?

That's its name?

Sure.

Well, it sure looks dead enough.

You want to buy it?

Buy it? That thing?

Scare people out of the place.

Don't be silly.

It's tremendous.

Look at the detail.

Tail? Look at the head.

Look at the expression on its face.

How come you put a knife into it?

I didn't mean to.

Just got carried away, huh?

Well, all right.

I'll tell you what I'll do.

I'll put it in the corner of the alcove.
If it sells, we'll split 50 -50, okay?

Sure. Does this mean I'm an artist?

Maybe so.

You can do other things as well.

All that is comes through the eye of the
artist.

Yeah, you're a real artist now.

I'm going back and scrub down those
garbage cans.

Much now.

You really like it?

We like it. Now go on.

Did you see my cat?

What's the matter? You lose him?

Oh, yeah. Everyone needs a dead cat on a
pedestal.

Uh -huh.

It's crazy.

Crazy. You want to buy it?

What do you mean, Matt?

It's on tap.

He likes my cat. Get to work.

Hey, hey, Walter.

Come here a minute.

Hey, congratulations, man.

Walter, you're famous.

I call your cat.

Did you like it, Mr. Brock?

You may call me Maxwell.

How'd you do it, Walter?

All right.

Just took some clay and fixed it up.

Attention.

Attention, everyone.

As you pass through these yellow
portals, I am sure you noticed on your

small clay figure and assumed this
transfixed effigy to be the work of a

sculptor. And indeed, so it is.

That master sculptor is in our midst.

He is none other than Walter Paisley,
our very own busboy.

whose hands of genius have been carrying
away the empty cups of your

frustrations.

Mark well, this lad.

His is the silent voice of creation
within the dark, rich soil of humility.

Oh, I don't remember the last time I
soiled my humility.

Beautiful,

Maxwell. Bring me an espresso, Walter.

Maxwell, really beautiful.

Thank you.

Man, you are in.

Hey,

Bob, what's happening?

Making a big scene for Walter.

Who'd he shoot?

He made a cat.

Out of clay.

See you around.

Yeah, later.

Will somebody clear this table?

Did you hear them, Mr. DeSantis? They
all like my cat.

Yeah, very good.

Now, look, Walter, you must be tired.

Why don't you take the rest of the night
off? No, no, no, you've got it coming.

Besides, you're creating an incident.
When people are applauding, they don't

know they're caught.

So go on home and work on something.

Make another cat.

Well, I haven't got another cat.

Just go to the movies.

Please, Walter, go.

All right, Mr. DeSantis.

Good night.

Good night, Walter.

Walter? Walter, wait a minute.

Oh, hello, Naolia.

Walter, I dug it. My cat?

It was the most wonderful, wildest,
like, wittiest thing I've ever seen.

Walter, you've done something to me.

Something deep down inside of my prana.

Can you say Prana on TV?

I want to be with you.

You're creative.

You've got a hot light bulb glowing
inside of you, and I want to be warmed.

Gee, that's nice of you, Naolia.

Walter, take me away from here.

Take me away to some cool blue place.

You got me.

I can't. I got to go home.

Oh, then I'll go home with you. Oh, no,
Mrs. Swickard wouldn't like that. She's

my landlady.

Isn't there anything I can do for you?

I don't think so, Naolia.

Walter, I can't let you just split like
this.

I've got to do something.

I've got to contribute.

You don't have to do anything.

Wait.

Wait, there is one thing I can do.

One little thing.

Don't leave, Walter.

I want to give you something.

Something that will make you remember
me.

pocket.

Now go, Walter.

Don't look back. Just go.

Hello, Mrs. Joseph -Dark speaking.

Yes, hello.

Is this Elvira, Mrs. Joseph -Dark?

Uh, no, sorry, she just ran out.

Maybe if you run into the middle of the
street, she'll run you down.

Well, this is the Publisher's Wet T
-Shirt Sweepstakes College.

Congratulations, you're the winner of
the Publisher's Wet T -Shirt Contest.

I am?

Oh, my God. Oh, this is such a surprise.

Oh, well, not really. I mean, I knew I
had it in the fun bag.

But in all seriousness,

this award means you like me. You really
like me. You know, wet T -shirt.

First, I'd like to thank all of the
impartial judges.

Hey, wait a minute. I haven't entered a
wet T -shirt contest since elementary

school. Well, it's never too late to
enter. Just dump a bucket of water on

yourself and you'll win.

And so will all the adult males in your
audience.

Look, hang on. You just hold your water,
okay?

Tonight's movie is a bucket of blood,
not a bucket of water.

But don't get any ideas, okay? I'm not
going all Carrie on you so you can get

your rocks off.

Besides, you already said I was the
winner.

Yeah, well, that was just assuming that
you'd get winning.

Oh, you know, I'm sorry, but in all good
unconsciousness, I cannot accept this

award.

It should really go to the person who
deserves it.

Me? But I didn't even get wet.

Yeah. Oh, I'm sorry.

I almost forgot.

Okay, boy, I guess I can just cross the
breather off my bucket list.

Now, let's see, what's the next bucket
on the list to kick?

Oh, yeah, get through this movie.

Well, we'll be back to more Bucket of
Blood right after this.

Welcome back, my little hipsters. It's
me, the next Georgia O 'Queef, Elvira,

Mistress of the Dark. Now, many of the
great female artists of our time were

girls after my own heart.

Nancy Graves, Augusta Savage, Helen
Frankenhaler.

I'd fit right in. And I figured while I
endeavor to pursue my artistic

endeavors, it would be a great chance to
show the masterpiece of the beatnik

era, A Bucket of Blood.

Now, so far we've met Walter, some
Squaresville busboy at the Yellow Door,

coffee house, where all the wannabe
Ginsbergs get up and razz the

man. Everybody picks on the poor cat.

He's low, man, real low.

All he wants is to be an artist, a real
artist and make a little bread, but the

man is keeping him down, real down.

One night, old Walt cracks open a big
lump of clay trying to sculpt his lady,

but she just ends up looking like a
California raisin. Add to his

overflowing pot of soup and his
landlady's cat stuck in the wall, and

gets up and Vincent Van Goghs. He tries
to cut the cat out of the wall, but his

lousy depth perception causes the knife
to pierce the pussy, and before too

long, he's got soup all over the place
and a dead cat.

Well, what do you know?

Inspiration hits, and he covers the
kitty in clay and beats it to the yellow

door. And what do you know? The art
community goes gaga over Dead Cat, and

Walter is the cat's meow of the beach.

He's even got groupies, including a
chasing little chubby named Mayolia,

flipped him some grade -A nose candy,
and now the fuzz are on him for

possession. Time to lay some more of
this flick on ya. This movie's gone.

Real gone.

I wish.

Can I have your autograph, Mr. Paisley?

Why, you're certainly my good woman.

Everybody likes my cat.

Oh, I know how you feel. They like mine,
too.

$10 ,000?

Okay.

Gee, I'll be famous.

And then I can ask Carla, and she'll say
yes.

I know she will.

Frying pan of blood.

Hello, Walter.

Oh, hi.

You're Lou, ain't you? I seen you down
the yellow door plenty.

Come on in.

I was just making some pancakes.

You can have some if you like.

Did you see my cat?

Yeah, I saw your cat. I also saw that
chick lay these on you.

Oh, that was Naomi.

She's a nice girl.

She's kind of strange, though.

I guess she figures I get headaches or
something.

Okay, Walter, who's your connection?

Connection? Yeah, connection.

Who do you score from? Where do you buy
your horse?

Horse? Horse, junk, white stuff, heroin.

Is that what that is?

I've never seen any of that before. I
always thought that was expensive.

Yeah, Walter, that can be real
expensive.

Gee, well, wasn't that nice of Naolia to
give me that expensive horse? Walter.

Huh?

Police officer.

You're like an undercover man.

You're under arrest, Walter.

Under arrest for what?

Possession of narcotics.

For me?

What are you talking about?

Walter, I got you cold.

Now you just come along quietly.

I didn't do nothing.

And they only give me those. I didn't
ask you for it. I didn't even know what

was in that. All right, you can tell
them that downtown. Now let's go. I

going no place with you. Walter, do I
have to point this at you?

You're going to shoot me. No, don't
shoot me. Walter, just relax.

No, you're gonna shoot me. Now just
relax. No, don't shoot me. Just shut up.

you're gonna shoot me. Don't shoot.

Noise, Mrs. Swickard? What noise?

Don't tell me I didn't hear a racket.

Are you sure you're all alone?

I'm always alone, Mrs. Swickard.

Walter, have you been talking to
yourself again?

Well, I guess maybe I have, Mrs.
Swickard.

Somebody's got to.

Walter, you know, what you need is a
girl.

You are too old for him.

She takes good care of you.

Well, I can take real good care of
myself, Mrs. Swickard. Yeah, I can see

Look at this pad.

Terrible. When did you ever clean it up?

And when did you change these sheets
last?

They look like they're alive.

Mrs. Swickard, I've got to meet some
friends in a little while, and I've got

take a shower. Why don't you clean up
this mess?

What's the matter with you?

Thothpin!

Help me.

A blood.

I didn't mean to hurt you, Lou.

But if you'd have shot me, you'd be
mopping up my blood now.

I can't help it if I got scared and hit
you.

I didn't mean it.

Okay.

I didn't know you had it in you, Walter.

How'd you do it?

I just took some clay and fixed it up.

Go home and make something, Walter.

Make another cat.

I don't got another cat.

Well, I reported in here around
midnight.

Lou had already been gone over an hour.

No, nobody seems to know where he went.

Why don't you put an alert out on him
and I'll check on him from here.

Okay, right.

Little fraud.

Okay, so a good idea is a good idea. So
I started looking for things I could dip

in plaster and call art. I found amazing
things that really spoke to my inner

prana just laying around the house.

I call this one...

Better.

I call this one, Down Girl.

And this one, I'm going to give you
something to really cry about.

Don't split now, Daddy -O. There's more
Movie Macabre right after this.

Hello, darling. What do you think of my
bust?

You know, I think I figured out my real
muse.

Me! I figured, why look outward for
inspiration when all I have to do is

down?

I call this one symmetry.

Here's hoping there's enough of me to
fill a museum.

Lord knows there's enough of me to fill
this dress.

Last seen wearing blue jeans and gray
sweater.

Tim Evans was a murderer all in his
prison cell.

And those who read about his crimes,
they damned his soul to hell.

Saying go down.

and the killing of his own child.

The jury found him guilty and the
hanging judge, he smiled.

And dig the fuzz.

What do you suppose I want?

What is this movie? Is he a Confederate
soldier?

Walter, he's a criminal type.

What's your problem?

I'm sorry, Mr. DeSantis. That's all
right, Walter. Sit down.

Greetings, man.

I'm not supposed to sit with the
customers.

Now, why shouldn't you sit at the table,
Walter?

After all, you're a big artist now.

A true creator above mere mortals.

What's the big idea?

Idea?

I was just telling Walter the truth.

Man wanted to pay me $100 for the cat.

In fact, he's taking it home to show to
his wife.

Yeah, Orson Welles really wants that
cat.

There's enormous realism.

You can hardly tell it from the real
thing.

Well, that sounds like a real put -down.

Get off Walter's back, Leonard.

Why on his back?

You're not very funny.

I'm not trying to be.

Walter, what are you going to make next?

A dog, maybe.

Or a bird.

How about a few dozen cockroaches from
your room?

Hey, man.

Why don't you make an elephant?

I got a new one.

Great. What is it?

It's a full -length, life -size figure.

Crazy. What is it called?

A murdered man.

When do we get to see it?

Oh, any time.

Hey, that's a pretty far -out name for a
statue. I saw a statue once. It was

called The Third Time Phyllis Saw Me,
She Exploded.

What kind of a statue was that?

I don't know. It was made out of
driftwood and dipped in fluoric acid.

wild.

What's wrong, Leonard?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

It's the food in this dump.

Oh, man, you could try the store
elsewhere.

They got wheat germ bagels. Too much.

Excuse me, please.

I think he really is sick.

So who isn't?

Santa's.

I've been trying to get to you all
evening.

Gotta make a call. Gotta call Lieutenant
Valdez.

Listen, I was wrong about my wife. She
wants that cat after all.

Do you hear me? I'll give you that $100
for the cat.

I can't talk to you just now.

All right then, $200.

No.

No!

$300 and that's tops.

$300 for the cat?

I know I'm going out of my mind, but...

I've been collecting our pieces all over
Europe for years.

And this boy, Walter Paisley, has got
it. I want to buy his first work. And to

make very sure that I get it, I'll pay
you $500.

$500 for the cat and a first look at his
next stuff.

Someone has the cat just now, but I'll
have him back in a few days.

Then you can have it for the $500.

Thank you, sir. I think I've made a
bargain. Call me when you're ready.

Good night.

You feel better?

Listen, I'm going over to Walter's later
after the place closes to see Murdered

Man. You feel up to coming along?

And the prison bell was tolling, but Tim
Evans didn't hear.

Saying, go down, you murderer, go down.

Look at the size of it.

It's not really that big. I got it on a
kind of a stand.

Well, let's see it.

I'm a little nervous. I never did a
person before.

You can do anything if you set your mind
to it. It's hard in here.

You want me to open a window?

Come on, Walter. Take off the sheet.

Don't you like it?

Walter, it's a masterpiece.

I've never seen anything like it before.

Yeah, I've never seen anything like that
ham in the corner.

I like it again.

Neither do I.

It's hideous, and it's eloquent.

It expresses modern man and all his self
-pity.

How did you ever find that in yourself,
Walter?

Well, it wasn't easy.

What's the matter with you?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

I've never seen anyone so squeamish.

What's your opinion, Leonard?

Don't ask me. Oh, come on.

Now, even you must see its value.

Do you think that you or I could have
conceived of such a thing, much less

executed it?

Well, then admit it. It's a work of
genius.

I admit it.

Then let's take it down to the yellow
door.

No. Why not?

I'll tell you.

Will you cover it up again, please?

Please.

Thank you.

What is all this nonsense? Why do you
want to hide it?

Well, I've been thinking.

I didn't realize how much talent Walter
actually had.

It would be wrong to show his pieces one
at a time.

Dead wrong.

You're right.

He should build a collection first.

There.

That's the idea.

Maybe when it's big enough, we can have
a show. A show? Just for me? No.

Not exactly. I mean, you take years and
years.

It's getting hot again.

Well, it would take you years to make
that many statues.

But your work would be featured.

It's a wonderful idea, Walter.

It's the only way to gain recognition.

All the big art critics and art dealers
will be there. It'll be an event.

Yes, then we can unload.

We can sell this stuff for a lot more.

But the show, how soon can we go?

Don't rush things. It takes time.

But first of all, you've got to stop
making these horrible statues.

Carla and I will guide you.

Maybe you can turn to Freeform.

Freeform? Well, that's the movement
today.

With his talent for realism? But you can
see the direction his realism takes.

It's unhealthy.

But you said I was a genius.

I don't want to be a busboy anymore.

Yes, maybe you got a point there. You
shouldn't keep working at the yellow

Look, I'm sure that man is going to buy
your dead cat. So here, here's your fee

in advance.

$50. And if you need more, I've got it,
so don't worry.

I've got great faith in you, Walter.

Gee, $50 for something I made.

Now you're a professional.

Let's go.

Okay.

Good night, Walter.

Keep up the good work. Yeah, but
don't... Brush things.

You've got all the time in the world.

Come on, Carla.

Good night.

Did you holler, Walter?

I'm an artist, Mrs. Ricketts.

Oh, sure you are, Walter. I am.

Look.

One of the greatest advances in modern
poetry is the elimination of cleric. I

proud to say my poetry is only
understood by that minority which is

Aware of what?

We're not of anything stupid, just
aware.

Man, this place is beginning to feel
like a lineup.

Yeah, baby.

If it don't cool off pretty soon, I'm
going to haunt somebody else's joint.

We may have to start drinking.

Yes,

Ben. Yes.

Yes.

Recommend.

Good evening, Paola.

Sylvia, didn't you see me wave my Zen
stick?

Where's Walter Paisley?

Bring me a cappuccino and a piece of
papaya cheesecake and a bottle of

Yugoslavian white wine.

Yes, sir, Mr. Paisley.

Good evening, Walter.

Maxwell, how have you been?

I see the rewards of achievement have
come your way. Well, after all, I'm a

successful sculptor now.

Indeed.

Hey, man, dig Walter the wigger. He's
coming out like he just cured cancer.

Let us make the scene.

Crazy.

I was just suggesting to Walter that he
try his hand at freeform. Why do you

suggest anything to Walter?

Are you the spokesman for society come
to put your stifling finger in his eye?

Good evening, gentlemen.

Oh, now, who invited these two down from
the clouds?

Maxwell! Yoo -hoo! Through the table.
Bring a bowl. I may be sick.

It's Alice the awful. Comes to spread
cheer and color.

Look at my suntan, everybody.

Do we have to?

Where have you been, Alice?

I went up to Big Sur to look for Henry
Miller.

You didn't find him, I hope.

No, he's in Europe. Good.

Why is the busboy sitting here?

I'm not the busboy anymore.

That's right. Walter has become a
sculptor.

Oh, really?

I'm a model, you know.

I only charge $25 an hour.

Would you like to do me?

I just might.

Never mind that.

Walter's going to try free porn.

There you go again.

I may take my business to the sorrel
sewer.

As a matter of fact, I was going to
suggest to Walter that he try a female

figure. As a change from the violent
death theme.

You really should, Walter.

You know what?

If you like, I'll be your model for
free.

I couldn't.

Not you.

Man, if you're going to be an artist,
you've got to do news.

Noon. Right.

I'm an artist.

Ain't nobody an artist unless he does...
Noon.

Will you get them out of here before we
wind up in night court?

Oh, let's change the subject. I'm sick
of hearing about sculpture. Nobody knows

how to do that anymore.

Much less the busboy from the yellow
door.

Who do you think you're talking about?

Don't shout at me.

I don't like you.

Nobody asked for your opinion, Walter.

You're just a simple little farm boy and
the rest of us are all sophisticated

beatniks. That's all, man.

Let's split.

Yeah, man.

I gotta make me some air.

See, you make them leave.

What did I do?

The first beneficial service of your
benighted life.

It proves we're all good for something.

Are you saying that this bad boy is
better than I?

Yes.

I think this whole bit about him being a
sculptor is just a big put -on for my

benefit. That's not true. I am a
sculptor. Oh, yeah?

Prove it. Make something out of this.

There. Hand.

That isn't a real hand. If you were a
sculptor, you'd create something for me.

A harpoon would be very nice.

I'm going home.

Alice, you're obnoxious.

But he's such an idiot.

I will talk to you of horror movies, for
there is nothing else to talk about.

Not for me, anyway.

Night after endless night, lying prone
here in the basin of my mind, midnight

becomes morning and still no plot to be
found. I will whip the sour cream of

sucky films into a frenzy and dump it on
the baked potato of life.

No chives, man.

No chives.

On the hole, the tube, the box, the
boob, I adjust the horizontal, adjust

vertical. I change the channel of my
brain, the brain that wouldn't die, or

could it, but just refused.

I stare bleary -eyed at shrews,
Martians, zombies. Why don't I just take

picture? It might last longer.

The movie hostess is, all others is not.

A cheap prop is a prop, or a dead cat.

It's what I wear. It's what I don't. A
costume.

A guise. It's cheap.

I'm cheap.

Not that cheap.

The opportunity is gone.

It only gives you knockers once.

Like a larger -than -life leech that
lurches in the labyrinth of a lucky

limp lizard, the lifeblood from my
blossoming bosom, firm like hairspray,

holds my bouffant in place.

Doesn't want to be.

Where are John, Jim, Jack, Jerk, Joke,
Jive, Germ... Where

are the wasp women, wild women, untamed
women that haunt my daytime dreams and

don't look in the basement even if I ask
them nicely?

They do not eat green eggs and ham.

They do not eat them, Sam.

They are... Paychecks.

Exists only in the ashtray of my mind.
Go ahead and sneak your bloody buckets

blood onto the screen of life. Display
your werewolves as if they came from

Washington. I exist as a hobo, bumming a
ride through a place known as

Hollywood. Bitches swimming through a
haystack of chins for a needle called

movie macabre.

Oh, the terror, the terror, the terror.

Ratings dead.

Yes.

What are you doing here? I wanted to
apologize for being nasty to you this

evening. So you're apologized. Good
night.

Listen, Torp, why don't you get out of
here and let me go to bed?

I didn't finish talking to you. I
decided to make that female figure after

Oh? And I'd like you to pose for it.

Remember what I said about my prize?

Twenty -five dollars an hour.

If you want to pay it, I don't mind
posing.

When do you want to start work?

Isn't she looking very statuesque?

Wait till I get my sweater.

Could use a little more heat around this
place.

It's bad for the clay You'll get used to
it Yeah,

I'm almost ready Here

sit in this chair and I'll pose you

Kind of rickety.

How's this pose?

Well, that's fine. It's very good.

Just stay like that.

That doesn't look like very much clay.

Oh, it's enough.

Just around your neck.

Watch it. The plate's hot.

Are these fertile eggs?

Are these eggs fertile?

Naturally. Why don't you fry them in?

We ran out of the safflower seed oil,
but I found a bottle of peanut oil in

stuff. Don't worry. It's not
hydrogenated. Is that the cold -pressed

the junk Hildebutt by mistake?

Yes, man, yes.

Hi. Good morning, Walter.

Hi, Walter. What brings you here?

I have some breakfast, ma 'am. What do
you have?

Soy and wheat germ pancakes.

organic guava nectar calcium lactate and
tomato juice and garbanzo omelets

sprinkled with smoked yeast join us no
thanks sounds great though i brought

something to show you could i have some
of the guys help me is it murdered man

it's better come on orders

put it in the middle of

the room

When did you do this, Walter? Last
night. It doesn't take me very long.

I should say not.

Well, let's see it, man.

Walter, I can't believe it.

I'm honored to know this man.

Do you think it's nice?

Hey, she's beautiful.

Do you think it's nicer than murdered
man?

Oh, I don't know, Walter. It's
impossible to choose.

They're both great.

Walter, I'm deeply moved.

Show my appreciation. I'm going to give
a party tonight at the Yellow Door. In

your honor.

And I shall compose a poem.

Some more champagne, Your Majesty?

Here, here.

Where, where?

There, there.

That's fine.

May I have another little kiss?

Walter, you're a wretch.

I am.

that flies now pays later through the
nose of Amidexter's apathy.

Necrophiles may dance upon the placemats
in an orgy of togetherness.

The highway of life cuts sharply through
the shady ghettos and the ivy -covered

tombs, and laughter rings from every
time capsule in the star -spangled

firmament. And in the deep freeze it is
the children's hour, and no one knows

that Duncan is murdered.

And no one knows that Walter Paisley is
born.

Duncan knows. Tuesday Sunrise knows.

Alley cats and garbage cans and steaming
pavements and you and I and the nude

descending the staircase and all such
things with souls. We know that Walter

Paisley is born.

ring rubber bells beat cotton gongs
strike silken cymbals play leavened

the cats and cans and you and I and all
such things with souls we shall hear

Walter Paisley is born and the souls
become flesh Walter

Paisley is born

Like that was the greatest gas I ever
heard.

No, that was the greatest gas you ever
heard.

Maxwell, that was magnificent.

I feel so elegant.

Walter deserved every word of it. He
makes me so glad I'm aware.

Did you hear what he said?

Yes, Walter.

All about me.

It's true, isn't it?

Every word.

You'd better hold off on the bubbly,
Curtis.

Yeah, why?

We might talk too much.

What would I say?

Most anything, I expect.

Are you two trying to ignore the rest of
us?

Oh, not me, Maxwell.

I wouldn't ignore you.

I know what it is to be ignored.

Tell us what you're going to do next,
Walter.

I'm going to make the most wonderful,
wildest, wiggiest things you've ever

I'm going to make big statues and little
statues, tall statues and short

statues.

I'm going to make statues of nobodies
and statues of famous people, statues of

actors and poets, and people who sell
things on television, and

a statue of the mayor.

and some opera singers and their
intimate friends.

And everybody will say, Walter, let me
shake your hand.

It's been a real pleasure to have known
you.

and garbage cans, they know that Walter
Paisley is born.

Ring rubber bells, beat cotton guns,
strike silken cymbals, play leather

flutes.

Tell us what you're going to do next,
Walter.

I'm going to make big statues, little
statues, movie stars and poets,

and guys who sell things on television.

And the mayor and some officers.

What you gonna do next, Walter?

What am I gonna do next?

What am I gonna do next?

I gotta do something before they forget.

I know what it's like to be ignored.

Table saw of blood.

Who are you? What do you want?

Life is an obscure hobo, bumming a ride
on the omnibus of art.

Huh? What'd you say?

What is not creation is graham crackers.

Let them all crumble to feed the
creator. How baited. You must be nuts.

Hello,

Leonard. Beautiful morning, isn't it? It
was.

What's that you got in the box? Just
waiting to see this.

Read about the man who got cut in half.

Extra, extra.

Leonard.

What's the matter, Leonard?

You made a bust.

Yeah, isn't it wonderful?

What's the matter, Leonard? Put it down,
Walter, please.

Walter. Walter, listen to me carefully.

I don't want you to make any more
statues.

Do you understand?

No more statues.

Why not?

I gotta make statues, Leonard. You heard
Brock. They want me to make them.

And if I stop making them, I'll just be
a busboy again.

Brock, he's behind all of this with his
stupid, bitter poetry.

Listen, you've got to stop it right
away.

I'm beginning to feel responsible.

Why? What did you do?

Never mind.

Walter, I've decided to have that show
for you right away.

Yes. When Carla comes, we'll have her
work up some nice invitations.

We'll have them printed up.

We'll invite the critics and the art
collectors.

We'll tell them.

Well, I don't see why we can't go.

Mr. Leonard DeSantis is afraid to have
you come.

You will buy his coffee and lure his
tourists.

You are the heart and soul and meat of
the yellow door.

He slighted you.

Did you get an invitation?

I did not.

But I'm going anyway.

Not to drink his champagne, but to see
Walter's triumph.

After that, we go no more.

Hi, Maxwell.

I won't say good luck, Walter.

Why not?

It would imply you could not succeed on
your ability alone.

You look so handsome.

I do.

So do you.

I mean, you look so pretty.

Thank you.

Are you ready?

Oh, we've got plenty of time.

I know, but I wanted to talk to you.

Okay, we can go now if you like.

Bye.

Later, man, later.

Swing.

Man, why do you suppose Walter wants to
get her alone?

Do you suppose he could be physically
attracted to her?

No, man, he ain't the type. He don't get
enough vitamin E.

Maxwell gave him a bottle of wheat germ
oil once.

Maybe he just started taking it.

What did you want to talk to me about,
Walter?

Well, what kind of people do you like,
Carla?

Oh, thinking people.

Artistic people, I guess.

You think I'm artistic?

Of course I do.

That means you like me.

I like you very much, Walton. I thought
you did. I can't how you kissed me the

other night.

Oh, that was for your sculptor of the
girl, your nude in the chair.

Carla, I've been alone for a long time,
and I know you've been alone, because

you never seem to go out with anybody,
even though Leonard's always asking you

to go out with him, and I just... What
are you trying to say?

I don't want to make statues anymore.

I want to get married.

To you.

How long have you been thinking about
this, Walter?

Oh, for a long time.

Ever since you first came to work at the
club.

You were the only one who was ever nice
to me.

I didn't know you loved me until you
kissed me.

Walter, I do like you.

And I did kiss you.

But that was because of your work.

There's more to being in love with
someone than just that.

You mean you don't love me?

I'm afraid that's what I mean.

But... But you gotta love me. Why do you
think I made that statue of Alice?

Walter, I'm sorry, but... You just can't
be sorry.

I want to marry you.

Now calm down, Walter, and let's go in
there and then maybe when the show's

we can talk about it. Well, I don't want
to talk about it.

I get it.

I see the whole thing now.

Nobody knows that Walter Paisley is
born.

Carla, will you do one favor for me?

Just about anything, Walter.

Would you let me make a statue of you?

Would you really like to?

That would make me very happy.

Okay.

Tonight.

I'll make a statue of you tonight.

Okay?

Come on.

Walter.

No, thanks.

This could bring about a return to
realism.

Yes, a one -man return.

We have many artists about, but no
craftsmen.

This man knows his anatomy.

I'd give $1 ,500 for this.

After you read my review, it'll probably
cost you $5 ,000.

So what's the trouble?

Why should you be so depressed?

Have you heard the things they're
saying?

You can make $25 ,000 on these pieces
alone.

I thought you put money down. I do, but
$25 ,000?

Leave me alone.

Out! Man, we have come to make this
scene.

Want some cappuccino, man? We got the
bread. We're not open for business. This

is an art exhibit.

No bumps, Captain.

That art is a bum, man.

And he's sober.

Yeah, well, that's his problem. All
right, man. All right. We'll wait

Yeah, you wait outside.

What's the matter?

Walter, there's a body inside that
statue.

Well, that's Alice.

It's all right, Carla.

Maxwell says it's all right.

Let them become clay in his hands that
he might mold them.

Walter, you stay away from me.

Don't you see, Carla? I made them
immortal.

Don't you see? I can do the same for
you.

Call Valdez. Have him send some cars.
I'm going at the pace. I'm going with

Hey, man, what is the score?

Walter Paisley's a murderer.

Wow, man, I saw him chase some collar
down the street.

What was that?

Nobody knows I'm here.

Walter.

No. They couldn't know.

They're dead.

How could they know?

Did you see him?

He's hiding around here someplace.

He can't hide just because we're in clay
and he isn't.

Walter, go home.

He won't know where else to go.

Walter, go home.

Very good.

What's wrong with you?

Walter.

Walter.

We'll find him.

We'll have him soon, Lou.

We'll teach him he can't murder us and
get away with it, won't we?

Walter.

Walter.

What you gonna do now, Walter?

Suppose he would have called it Hanging
Man.

His greatest work.

Well, darling, looks like this is the
end of my blue period.

Mainly because with the movie over
there, it's not that much to be sad

Boy, I'll tell you, art is not easy.

To really make an impact in the art
world, you have to invent an ism.

You know, cubism, modernism, alcoholism.

And I just can't seem to come up with my
own point of view.

I can't filter the world through my own
palette.

Well, I'm going to try to unload all of
these at the local art emporium slash

thrift store.

Someone once said, any fool can paint,
but it takes a smart one to sell it. And

Lord knows I got the experience selling
it.

Now, Cass, you've seen a bucket of
blood.

Sorry it turned out to be such a dud.

But you got your kicks just by making
the scene.

So stay out of Squaresville and
unpleasant dreams.