Original subtitles

I was dreamin.

Dreamin my dick was out and I was checking to see

if that infected bump on the head of it had filled with pus again.

If it had, I was gonna name that bump after my ex-wife, cilla,

and bust it by jackin off.

Oh, man.

Or I d like to think thats what Id do.

Dreams let you think like that.

Truth was, hadnt had a hard-on in years.

Oh, man.

My god, man. How long have ibeen here?

Am I really awake now, or am just dreamin Im awake?

How could my plans have gone so wrong?

When the hell are they gonna serve lunch?

Considerin what they serve, why the hell do I care?

If Priscilla discovered I was alive, would she come and see me?

Would we still wanna fuck?

Or would we merely have to talk about it?

Is there, finally and really,

anything to life other than food, shit, and sex?

Well, goddamnit.

How could I have gone from the "king of rock and roll" to this?

Old guy in a rest home in east Texas with a growth on his pecker.

And what is that growth, man?

Cancer? Nobodys talkin.

No one seems to know... Or wants to.

Makes you wonder, doesnt it, what kind of life this old guy had?

Huh?

What kind of life he had, you know. His kids, his grandkids, his legacy.

Look at him now.

Oh, who gives a shit?

Huh?

Well...

Hmm.

Make you comfortable.

Oh!

Im gonna squish you, cockroach!

Gaspsi

Help me.

Easy, easy, easy.

You know, I was thinkin...

What? You gonna get all weepy on me again?

No, I was merely gonna suggest

that you use some of this here deodorizer

and spray it on that corpse because shes smellin pretty ripe.

Ugh! Good idea.

Excuse me, miss?

You gonna throw all that stuff out?

Yeah.

Could I have one of them pictures of bull?

Maybe his... his purple heart?

I mean, he was pretty proud of that.

And maybe that... That tin of chocolates there?

Isuppose.

The revealin of her panties wasnt intentional or unintentional.

She just didnt give a damn.

She saw me as so physically and sexually non-threatenin,

she didnt mind if! Got a birds-eye view of her love nest.

It was the same to her as a house cat sneakin a peek.

I felt my pecker flutter once like a pigeon havin a heart attack...

Then it laid back down and remained limp and still.

Course, these days, even a flutter was kind of reassurin.

Thank you.

Say...

Bull your kin?

My daddy.

Never seen you here before.

Ive only been here once before. When I checked him in.

Thats three years ago, wasnt it?

You and him friends?

No, we was just roommates.

I mean, he never felt good enough to say much.

I just hated to see what was left of him go away so easy.

Seemed like an all right guy.

Mentioned you a lot. Youre... youre Callie, right?

Yeah.

Well... he was all right.

But not enough so youd come and see him, though.

Dont lay some guilt trip on me, mister.

I did what I could.

I mean, if it hadnt been for medicaid or medicare,

whatever that stuff was,

hed have been in some ditch somewhere.

And I sure didnt have the money to take care of him.

My own daughter...

Lost long ago to me...

If she knew I lived, would she come and see me?

Would she even care?

You couldve come and seen him. They dont charge you for that.

Mind your own business.

I was busy.

Well, well, well. If it isnt my favorite patient.

How are you this morning, Mr. Haff?

Im all right.

But I prefer Mr. Presley or Elvis. I keep tellin you that.

I dont go by Sebastian haff anymore, okay?

Im not tryin to hide anymore.

Well, of course I knew that. I forgot.

Good morning, Elvis.

Did you know we have a celebrity here, miss Thomas?

Elvis Presley. You know, the rock and roll singer.

I thought he was dead.

Well, actually, Elvis is dead. Mr. Haff knows that.

Dont you, Mr. Haff?

Hell, no. Im right here. I aint dead.

Yet.

Now, Mr. Haff!

I dont mind calling you "Elvis."

But youre a little confused and you like to play sometimes.

You were an Elvis impersonator, remember?

You fell off the stage and broke your hip... when was it?

Twenty years ago.

It got infected and you were in a coma for quite a while.

You came out with a few... Problems.

Look, I was just impersonatin myself, okay? I couldnt do nothin else.

I dont have any problems.

Youre tryin to say my brains messed up, arent you?

Why would you wanna be somebody else?

I got tired of it.

I was hooked on pills, you know.

I wanted out.

And this boy Sebastian haff, he was an Elvis imitator.

He was the best of em. He took my place.

Problem is, he had a bad heart.

He liked drugs, too. Liked them more than I did.

So it was him that died, not me. I just took his place.

But why would you want to leave all that fame, Mr. Presley?

All that money?

I dont know. Cause it got old.

The woman I loved, Priscilla, she was gone.

The rest of the women... Were just women.

I mean, the music wasnt mine anymore.

I wasnt even me anymore. Just this thing they made up.

And my friends...

Well, they were suckin me dry.

So I took a little road trip down to nacogdoches...

To check out this Sebastian haff.

Its all right, boys. Just wait here.

Oh, my god.

I didnt think youd really...

Its all right, boys. Just another freak.

Lets split.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. - Sorry, man.

King, I got it. I got it.

Its all yours, baby.

So isigned everything over to Sebastian.

Except for enough money to sustain me if things got bad.

I was determined to make myselfa new life.

A better one.

But me and Sebastian, we had us a deal.

If I wanted to trade back, hed let me.

Yo, Sebastian!

It was all written up in the contract.

The thing was...

I lost my copy in a barbecue accident.

But that wasnt so bad, either.

I was makin new friends and enjoyin myself.

Cheers!

Oh, my god. Did you see that thing?

What in the Sam hill?

It just went up like that.

- Now, Elvis. - There she is. Bobs your uncle.

Dont carry it too far.

You may just get way out there and not come back.

Oh, fuck you.

Shit.

Get old, you cant even cuss someone and have it bother em.

Everything you do is either worthless or sadly amusing.

Well...

Ive got what I want.

The clothes can go to goodwill or salvation army.

Very well. And Im sorry about your father. He was a nice man.

Yeah.

It was nice to meet you, Mr. Presley.

- Get the hell out. - Now, now.

Ill be back later to do that little...

Thing that has to be done. You know.

- Shh! - Elvis!

Poor bull.

In the end... Does anything really matter?

No one here ever listened to me.

Except this one guy... Only he was certifiable.

Thats where they took a piece of my brain.

They got it back in DC in that goddamn jar.

I got a little bag of sand up there now.

Jack... no offense, but...

President Kennedy was a white man.

Thats how clever they are!

They dyed me this color. All over!

Can you think of a better way to hide the truth than that?

I was livin simple.

The way haff had been.

Going from town to town doin the Elvis act.

Only I felt like I was really me again.

Can you dig that?

Were diggin it, Mr. Haff... Mr. Presley.

Women were throwin themselves at me

cause they could imagine I was Elvis.

Only, I was Elvis playing Sebastian haff playing Elvis.

It was all pretty good.

I didnt mind the contract being burned up.

Didnt even try to go back and convince anybody.

Then I had the accident.

I was gyratin, see, takin care of business,

and then my hip went out.

Id been havin trouble with it.

Damn, its cold in here tonight.

No way. Thats it. This time, I make it.

No more pissin and crappin the bed.

Shake it out...

There we go.

Whoa!

Man... that is one big bitch cockroach.

All right, man. Lets go.

Damn.

Hot damn!

Got you, you six-legged bastard.

Even a big bitch cockroach like you should know...

Never... but never fuck with the king.

Whoa-oh-oh-oh!

Hey! Is anybody out here?

I think we got some major bug problems in this place, man!

Oh, man...

Hey, Jack?

Jack?

Hey, man, you okay?

What the Sam hill is that?

Mr. Kennedy?

Hey, man... youre on the floor.

No shit.

Who are you?

Look, Im...

Sebastian. Sebastian haff.

Did you see him go by in the hall?

He scuttled like.

- Who, man? - The one they sent.

- Whos "they"? - Oh, you know who.

No, Jack, I dont. Come on, man.

Lyndon Johnson.

Castro, maybe.

They sent somebody to finish me off.

I think maybe it was Johnson himself.

Real ugly. Real goddamn ugly!

Look, man, president Johnsons dead.

Shit. That aint gonna stop him.

Get his feet.

So, you say you heard a... a noise?

Well, a sounds a sound, you know? I mean, I heard something.

It was like a... I dont know. Like a... like a scuttling.

- A scuttling sound? - Yes, sir.

Were you awake or were you in bed when you heard this noise?

I was in bed first, then I was awake cause the damn bugs woke me up.

Alright? You got bugs all over this place.

Bugs... well, Mr. Haff, what kind of bugs have you been seeing?

Look, man, do I look like an ichthyologist to you?

Just big damn bugs, all right? The size of my fist.

The size of a peanut butter and banana sandwich, man.

What do I care? I got a growth on my pecker.

Okay, Mr. Haff. Dont worry about a thing.

Well call the exterminator tomorrow and well take care of the problem.

Good. Thank you. Thank you very much.

Its time for that little thing again.

A doll like this handlin me without warmth or emotion...

Twenty years ago. Just twenty, man.

I couldve made with a curly-lip smile and had her eatin out of my asshole.

Doctor says this cream ought to do the trick.

Corticosteroids.

Should heal the inflammation, stop the pus.

Where d my youth go?

Why didnt fame hold off old age and death?

Why the hell did I leave the fame in the first place?

Do I want it back? Could I have it back?

And if! Could... Would it make any damn difference?

Mr. Haff!

Huh?

Lord almighty.

You old rascal.

I think you better take a cold shower, Mr. Haff.

Thered been two presidential elections

since I had a boner like that one.

What gave here?

Then I realized what gave.

I was thinkin about something that interested me.

Not my next meal or goin to the crapper.

Id been given a dose of life again.

You get in there with me, Ill take that shower.

You silly thing.

Come on, now. Why dont you pull on it a little?

You ought to be ashamed.

Where at? Where at?

I havent seen my kids.

Its an ambush!

Under the bridge. I saw him under the bridge.

Its an ambush! Tonto, my boots, Tonto!

Thats my friend kemosabe. We used to play cards together.

- My boots! - Now he doesnt even know who I am.

Daddy.

Baby?

Sebastian. Sebastian! Its loose!

Whats loose?

It. Listen.

Jesus Christ. Whats that?

I thought it was lyndon Johnson, but I was wrong.

Ive come across new evidence to suggest another assassin.

Assassin?

Hes after another target tonight.

Come on, I wanna show you something.

I dont think its safe if you go back to sleeping.

For Christ sake, man. Just tell the administrators.

Suits and white starches? No, thank you!

I trusted them when I was back in Dallas,

and look where that got my brain and me.

Im thinkin with sand here.

I mean, I pick up some waves, maybe, from my brain,

but someday, who knows?

Somebody might just disconnect the battery at the white house.

Oh, yeah. Thats something to worry about, all right.

Listen here. Listen.

I know youre Elvis.

There was a rumor, you know, that you hated me.

But I thought about that.

If you hated me, you couldve finished me off the other night.

What I want from you is that you look me straight in the eye

and assure me you had nothing at all to do with that day in Dallas,

and that you did not know Lee Harvey oswald or Jack Ruby.

Look, man...

I had nothing to do with Dallas.

And I knew neither Lee Harvey oswald nor Jack Ruby.

Good. May I call you Elvis instead of Sebastian?

You may.

Excehent

you wear glasses to read?

Well, I wear glasses when I really want to see.

Get them. Come on.

Come on. Right down the hall.

The Walker was swingin along easier now.

Not even like needed it.

Damn, this here Jack was a nut.

Maybe I was nuts, too...

But there was an adventure goin on.

Its in here.

In here.

Thats it?

I mean, were investigating a scuttling in the hall,

trying to figure out who attacked you last night,

and you bring me in here to look at stick pictures

on the shithouse wall, man?

Look close.

Its Egyptian.

Right-a-reen-o.

Hey, youre not as stupid as some folks made you out.

- Thank you. - Now, I copied this down yesterday.

I came in here to take a shit because they hadnt cleaned up my bathroom.

Saw that on the wall, took it back to my room,

looked it up in my books, and I wrote it all down.

Now, this top line translates roughly into,

"pharaoh gobbles donkey goobers."

And the bottom line, "Cleopatra does the nasty."

Say what?

Well, pretty much. Thats the best I can translate it.

All right, so, one of the nuts in here...

Present company excluded...

Thinks hes tutankhamun or something, comes in here, writes hieroglyphics.

Big deal, man! Whats the connection?

Why are we standin here in the toilet?

Well, I dont know what the connection is, exactly... not yet.

But that thing caught me asleep last night.

And I came awake just in time.

He had me on the floor.

I had his mouth over my asshole.

A shit-eater?

I dont think so.

He was after my soul.

Now, you can get that out of any major orifice of a persons body.

I read about it.

Oh yeah? Where, man? Hustler?

The everyday man or womans book of the soul by David webb.

And they got pretty good movie reviews in there

about stolen soul movies in the back.

Come on. Ill show you.

Oh!

I think that there might be some sort

of electrical problem over there in the gardeners shed.

That light... Looks like its shortin out.

This whole damn place is fallin apart.

But you dont have to think about that.

Mrs. Biddlestein is waitin on her enema.

All right. All right. Im comin.

Just let me finish my cigarette first.

God.

Theres an ugly son of a bitch.

Damn! Hey, Jack.

What it says here is that you can Bury some dude,

and if he gets the right tanna leaves

and spells said over him and such bullshit,

that he can come back to life thousands of years later, man.

But hold on, now.

To stay alive, he has to suck on the souls of the iivin,

and that if the souls are small, his life force doesnt last long.

Small. Whats that mean?

Read on. No, never mind.

Ill tell you myself.

But first, would you like a ding dong?

I dont mean mine.

I mean a chocolate ding dong.

Of course, mine would be chocolate now that I have been dyed.

You got ding dongs, man?

I got paydays and I got a box of baby ruths.

Oh, mama!

Which will it be? Lets get decadent.

Ill take a baby Ruth.

All right.

Now... small souls...

Are those that dont have much fire for life.

You know a place like that?

Man, if souls were fires,

they couldnt burn much lower than in here.

Exactamundo.

What we have here at shady rest

is an Egyptian soul sucker of some sort.

You know, a mummy hiding out.

Coming in here, feeding on the sleeping.

Its perfect, you see?

Now, were small souls, so we cant provide him much.

But if that thing comes back two or three times in a row

and wraps his lips around some elders asshole,

that elder is going to die pretty soon.

And who would be the wiser?

Asshole.

A mummy cant be getting too much energy from all this,

you know, not like with big souls, but the prey is easy.

And with new people comin in here all the time,

he can keep this up forever, this soul robbin.

Thats what they brought us here for,

to get us out of the way until we die.

And those who dont die first

from disease or just plain being old, he gets.

Look, thats all well and good, Jack,

but theres one thing that still throws me.

How does an ancient Egyptian wind up in an east Texas rest home,

and why is he writin on the shit house walls, man?

Well, he went in to take a crap,

got bored, started writing on the walls.

He probably wrote on pyramid walls centuries ago.

Come on, man, like what would he crap? I mean, its not like hed eat.

Well, he eats souls.

So I assume that he would crap soul residue.

By that I would mean that if you die from his mouth,

you dont go to the other side where the souls go.

He digests souls until they dont exist anymore.

And youre just so much toilet water decoration.

And speaking of toilets...

This is how I figured that whole thing out.

Hes just like anybody else when it comes to taking a dump.

He wants a nice, clean place with a flush.

They didnt have that in his time.

No, no, no. Dont go out in the hall.

- Thats all right. Im not asleep. - That dont mean he wont hurt you.

"He" my ass. There isnt any mummy from Egypt.

Nice knowin you, Elvis.

Asshole. Asshole!

Asshole! Asshole!

Asshole!

Gaspsi

Kemosabe was dead of a ruptured heart before he hit the floor.

Gone down and out with both guns blazing.

Soul intact.

Once again, we got scolded.

This time, we got quizzed about what had happened to kemosabe,

but neither of us told the truth.

I mean, who was gonna believe a couple of nuts?

Elvis and Jack Kennedy explaining

that kemosabe was gunning for a mummy in cowboy duds?

Some kind of bubba ho-tep?

So, what we did was...

We lied.

- Life sure is fleetin, you know? - What?

Life. Im saying its fleetin. You know what I mean?

One minute youre here, and the next minute youre gone...

Shit!

Shit! Shit! Come on!

Come on. Move it! Come on. Get it!

Nonchalant. Nonchalant.

Nonchalant.

Get it in there.

You are one fuckin idiot.

Mr. Haff?

Mr. Presley?

Mr. Presley?

Now, now, Mr. Presley.

You are looking much stronger,

but you shouldnt be out here too long.

Its time for your nap.

And its also time for us to do that little... you know.

You fuck off, you patronizing bitch!

Im sick of your shit!

Ill lube my own crankshaft from now on.

You treat me like a baby again,

Ill wrap this goddamn Walker right around your head!

How in the hell did that mummy do that?

Well... what the hell?

Where did old bubba ho-tep go?

Where did he come from?

How the hell did he get here?

Wait a minute.

Under the bridge. I saw him under the bridge.

Come on, mama.

Its a cancer.

Theyre keepin it from me cause Im old,

and to them it dont matter.

They think age will kill me first, and theyre probably right.

Well, suck them!

I know what it is, and if it isnt...

It might as well be.

Station krop is proud to present

the Elvis Presley movie marathon.

Its 24 hours of Elvis in the roles he made famous.

Watch that two-fisted hound dog out-strum, outrace,

out-fight, and outwit the bad guys.

And at the same time, watch the king slay the girls.

Shitty pictures, man.

Every single one.

Here I was complainin about loss of pride

and how life had treated me,

and now I realized... I never had any pride.

And much of how life had treated me had been good.

The bulk of the bad was my own damn fault.

Shouldve fired colonel Parker by the time I got in the pictures.

Old fart had been a shark and a fool,

and I was an even bigger fool for following him.

If only Id treated Priscilla right.

If I couldve told my daughter I loved her.

Always the questions. Never the answers.

Always the hopes... Never the fulfillments.

I had the woman who calls herself my niece come get me.

She took me downtown this morning to the newspaper morgue.

Shes been helping me to do some research.

- Research on what, man? - On our mummy.

You know somethin about him?

I know plenty.

Now, one of the lesser mummies,

on loan from the Egyptian government,

was being circulated all over the United States.

You know, museums, stuff like that.

What do you mean? Like king tut or whatever?

No, more like king tuts brother.

His mummy was flown or carried by the train from state to state.

When it got to Texas, it was stolen.

Stolen?

Evidence points to it being stolen at night

by a couple of guys in a silver bus.

Bus? Hey, Ive seen that!

Anyway, the thieves broke into the museum,

stole it in hopes of a ransom,

when in comes the worst storm in east Texas history.

Let me guess.

The bus was washed away, see?

Cause I think I saw it today. It was way back in the creek.

The mummy was imprisoned by the debris.

Look here, howd it come back to life?

And how did I end up inside its memories?

The speculation broadens here, but from what Ive read,

some mummies get buried without their names...

A curse put on their sarcophagus.

Hey, now, maybe our boys one of them.

I mean, when hes in the coffin, hes just a dried-up old corpse,

but when the bus got washed away, maybe it overturned or broke open

or something and now hes free of coffin and curse, man.

Hes free from imprisonment, but he still needs souls.

And now hes free to have them.

He can just keep on feedin unless hes finally destroyed.

So what do we do, Jack?

Changing rest homes might be a good idea.

I cant think of much else.

But I will say this:

Our mummy is a nighttime kind of guy.

So, Im gonna go and sleep now.

Ill set my alarm for just before dark,

then I can get myself a couple of cups of coffee.

Damn straight.

If he comes in here tonight

I dont want him slappin his lips on my asshole.

Yes. Consider it.

Hes got the proverbial birds nest on the ground here.

What do I really have left in life but this place?

It aint much of a home...

But its all I got.

Well, goddamnit.

Ill be damned if I let some foreign, graffiti-writin, soul-suckin

son of a bitch in an oversized cowboy hat and boots

take my friends souls and shit em down the visitors toilet!

In the movies, I always played heroic types.

But when the stage lights went out,

it was time for drugs and stupidity and the coveting of women.

Now its time.

Time to be a little of whatl had always fantasized bein:

A hero.

Hello?

Mr. Kennedy?

Ask not what your rest home can do for you.

Ask what you can do for your rest home.

Hey, youre copying my best lines.

Then let me paraphrase one of my own.

Lets take care of business.

Just what are you getting at, Elvis?

I think you know what Im gettin at, Mr. President.

Were gonna kill us a mummy.

Two bottles of rubbing alcohol.

Check. Dont even have to toss em.

Look here.

Found this in the storage room.

I thought they kept it locked.

They do. I stole a hairpin and picked the lock, baby.

Great.

Matches.

Check. Even scrounged up a cigarette lighter.

Good. Uniform.

Big check on that, baby.

Well, I got a nice pair of shoes to go with this.

Check.

Scissors.

Check.

All right.

Now, I got my chair oiled and ready to roll.

Thats good, man. We could use some wheels.

And I picked some words of power from my book of magic.

I dont know if theyll stop a mummy,

but theyre supposed to ward off evil.

I wrote them down. One for each of us.

Well, well use what we got, baby.

All right, 2:45 A.M., we hook up right back here.

No, at the rate we travel, maybe we ought to start at 2:30.

Say, Jack?

Do we know what the hell were doin, man?

No. But they say that fire cleanses evil.

Lets just hope that they... Whoever they are... is right.

Check on that, too.

All right, synchronize watches.

And... Mark.

Now, the two key words for tonight are "caution" and "flammable."

And also... "Watch your ass."

Whats that you got hanging around your neck?

Thats my medicine bag.

Indians used to wear em into battle.

Full of all kinds of lucky stuff.

See here? Mucho mojo.

Thats my daughter.

I know.

We werent there for our kids when they needed us, were we?

Man, if I could just talk to her again...

Tell her I love her...

Try and make things right somehow.

No time for regrets, Elvis.

We were the best fathers we could be under the circumstances.

Yeah, I guess, no time for regrets.

We got business to take care of.

Look here. Top it off with this.

I stole it from the gardener when he wasnt iookin.

Its gonna be one hell of a barbeque.

Lets do it, amigo.

Hey, Jack?

I just got one last question.

Marilyn.

Come on, man. Marilyn Monroe?

What was she like in the sack?

That is classified information. Top secret!

But between you and me...

Wow!

You old dog. Watch your back, Jack.

Time to hump it.

Shit... when bubba ho-tep comes out of that creek bed,

hes gonna come out hungry and pissed.

When I try and stop him, hes gonna jam this paint can up my ass

andjam me and that wheelchair up Jacks ass.

Shit.

Hey, Jack.

Dont make me use my stuff on you, baby.

Damn! Where did he go to?

Hey! You stay put!

Ill flush him out!

You be careful, man.

No, Jack!

Gaspsi

Oh, man.

No! No!

Come and get it, you undead sack of shit.

Sorry, man.

Mr. Kennedy?

The president is soon dead.

So, now... Its up to you, Elvis.

You got to get him.

You... got to...

Take care of business.

Thats right, man.

Were gonna t.C.B.

Its just you and me.

Mr. President.

"You nasty thing from beyond the dead...

"No matter what you think or do, good things will never come to you.

"And if evil is your black design,

"you can bet the goodness of the light ones...

Will kick your bad behind"?

For Christ sake...

Thats it?

Thats the chant against evil from the book of souls?

Yeah, right, boss.

And what kind of decoder ring comes with that, man?

Shit, it doesnt even rhyme well!

This is dog shit.

Its time for a-c-t-i-o-n.

Come on, baby. Here we go.

Woo! Woohoo!

I was goin out.

And if I did, not only would I be one dead son of a bitch,

but so would my soul.

Id be just so much crap.

No afterlife, no reincarnation, no angels with harps.

Whatever lay beyond would not be known to me.

It would all end right here for Elvis Aaron Presley.

Nothin left but a quick flush.

T.c.b., baby.

Your soul-suckin days are over, amigo.

I felt somethin inside gratin against somethin soft.

I felt like a water balloon with a hole poked in it.

I was goin down for the last count.

And I knew it.

But I still have my soul.

Its still mine.

All mine.

And the folks up there at shady rest...

They have theirs, too.

And theyre gonna keep em.

Every single one.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.