All language subtitles for Freaky Stories - 1x13 - End of the Day_Legendas01.ENG

¶ [SPOOKY THEME
MUSIC THROUGHOUT] ¶

¶¶

[PHONE RINGS]

ROSIE: Ted's Diner.

Yeah, you know how
rumors are, Gladys,

they're usually true.

And this one is, for sure.

Uh-uh, Ted's Diner is closing.

Yeah, he sold it to
this French guy.

He's gonna turn it into
some kind of fancy

Chez Ted place... ...
that don't serve food...

They serve hoity-toity
CUISINE.

Oh no, I hate French food.

Mind you I do love
French garbage.

I know this place
is kinda the pits...

I love pits.

But it's our pits.

Right, now how could
Ted sell this place

right out from under us?

I bet the new guys won't spill
burnt lard on the floor.

Ha, the new guys won't
even use lard.

Gah!!

Maurice?!

ROSIE: You know Ted.
He's got a heart

the size of a
flea's little toe.

To him, all that
counts is business.

We have to do something.

We can't let Ted's
Diner disappear.

If Ted's Diner disappears,
what happens to our show?

¶ [EERIE / TRAGIC MUSIC] ¶

CEMETERY GROUPIE:
This is a true story.

It happened to a friend
of a friend of mine.

His name was Lorenzo
...and he's dead.

And he looks grand.
I did him up personally.

You see, Lorenzo had
been a famous movie star

when he was young.

But alas, the only one who
remembered he was in the

cemetary mausoleum
was his friend Basil,

the old man who sat
out front selling flowers

from a little stand.

One day, some years ago,
on the anniversary of

Lorenzo's death, a mysterious
woman, dressed in black,

climbed up the hill
to the cemetery,

and placed a single
long stemmed rose on

Lorenzo's mausoleum step.

A young photographer was in
the cemetery at the time.

He snapped some shots and when
he was about to leave,

he realized that the
old woman was gone.

He ran to the gate
of the cemetery

but the only one
there was Basil.

The photographer
sold the picture

to the local newspaper.

The next day, a thousand
people showed up to see

if the mysterious lady in
black would come back.

But nobody was there except
Basil, who was pleased

to sell out all his flowers,
for a dollars a piece.

A year passed.

The photographer
was now working

at the local
television station,

and realizing that it
was the anniversary

of Lorenzo's death,
he brought a film crew

to the cemetery.

As expected, a mysterious
woman, dressed in black,

appeared and hovered near
Lorenzo's mausoleum.

She placed a single
red rose on the steps.

The photographer
tried to interview

the mysterious woman.

But she was gone! Disappeared!

And when he ran to the
gate of the cemetery,

old Basil was sitting
there reading a racing form.

That night the story
was all over television.

And the next day, ten
thousand people showed up

at the cemetery to see
the mysterious woman,

and pay their
respects to Lorenzo.

And everybody was able
to buy a flower from Basil,

at two dollars each.

Another year went by.

The night before the
anniversary of Lorenzo's

death, the photographer sneaked
into the cemetary and waited.

Just as dawn was breaking,
the mysterious woman in black

returned and left a
single red rose.

At the gate, a vast
number of people waited

to buy roses from Basil, this
year at three dollars each.

Poor Basil was so busy, the
photographer decided to help.

As things became more hectic,
the photographer dropped some

change behind the counter
and noticed something.

Basil was wearing
women's black shoes.

And on a shelf tucked away
in back, was a woman's dress.

Black. And a hat, veil
and sunglasses.

The photographer said,
"the woman in black?"

Basil smiled.

[GOOFY LAUGH]

The photographer,
desperate for the truth,

swore he would tell no one.

So Basil walked him to
Lorenzo's mausoleum

where he opened the door.

Inside, was Lorenzo.

And he sat up.
There in the crypt.

Basil counted off half the
money he made that day

and handed it to Lorenzo.

Then he turned to the
photographer to explain,

"He gets half because
it was his idea."

This is a true story.

It happened to a friend
of a friend of mine.

But he's dead.

And now, so is his friend old
Basil.

Whom I did up equally well.

And the photographer makes
forty thousand dollars

one day a year
dressing up like a lady

and selling flowers.
[CHUCKLE]

You sure you want
to go out there?

PIERRE: We will put
zee carte des vins ici.

If this Pierre guy sees
the place's got roaches

it might squelch the deal.

Be careful out there,
old buddy.

Maurice, he's a new guy.
How much trouble can he be?

PIERRE: A cockroach!

[WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!]

We will get in zee
exterminator, put up l'tente

and kill every living
thing in this place.

Larry, you have to
think of something.

Yeah, I know.

Roll the next story.

ARCADE GUY:
This is a true story.

It happened to a friend of a
friend of mine. Ernie.

I remember when Ernie came
into the arcade and asked

to speak to the owner.

Nobody would want to
speak to Big Tony...

without wearing a gas mask.

But Ernie needed a
job real bad.

Someone told Ernie
that Big Tony had

put an ad in the paper,

looking for a guy to
work the change booth.

Somebody HAD to tell Ernie

since Ernie couldn't
read or write.

Which is why he didn't
get the job.

But Big Tony felt sorry
for the little guy,

so he gave Ernie one of those
dumb prizes you win...

a big, furry thing.

Ernie took the big,
furry thing outside

and all depressed when this
limo pulled up and

a rich guy got out.

Seems he forgot to get his
kid a birthday present.

So he gave Ernie a hundred
dollars for the furry toy.

Ernie figured some people will
buy real weird things.

So when he saw a guy
throwing a broken table

into a dumpster, Ernie gave
the guy the hundred dollars

for the table.

Just then, this old guy steps
out of an antique store,

and yells, "That's exactly
what I've been looking for!"

Turns out the table
belonged to one of those

French Louis kings, and the
old guy gives Ernie

a thousand bucks for it.

Ernie knew he was on a
streak when he saw a wreck

of a heap of a pile of rust
that once was a car.

It had a 'For Sale' sign
in the windshield and Ernie

paid a thousand dollars for
the old, rusty heap.

Well along came this scraggly,
scrawny mutt to do his thing

right on the
car's rear bumper.

It seemed the dog had no
owner, so Ernie took him home,

washed him up, brushed him out
and the mutt looked

grand enough to enter the dog
show and to win first prize...

and ten thousand dollars!

For some smart people,
ten thousand would be

a good quitting number.

But Ernie took the ten
thousand and bought

a pickup truck.

Then he took a ride and picked
up a hitchhiker.

A seedy old bearded man
who didn't smell to good.

But Ernie had a big heart.

Two days later, the old
guy keeled over.

He happened to
be a billionaire.

And he left Ernie
three million dollars.

Enough to get through
life in high style.

But not Ernie. He bought
himself an airplane.

Not the most luxurious
plane in the world,

but it could fly...
with passengers.

To Acapulco.

And Nassau.

And all kinds of sunny places,

just when North America
was hit with the

coldest cold spell in decades.

Ernie had to buy more planes.

Then a few cruise ships.

And the Island... with
all the hotels on it.

Then a few amusement
rides for kids.

And eventually, ERNIELAND.

With all that money
coming in there was

only one thing for
Ernie to do.

Make Movies.

Ernie made blockbuster
megahits,

like Explosion II,
Explosion III

and the classic, Dinosaur Park.

Ernie bought a TV network,

newspapers and a hockey team
he called The Mighty Ernies.

And on his thirtieth birthday,

Ernie was interviewed for a
magazine cover article.

The reporter asked where he
was born, what his dad did,

what school he went to.

Ernie admitted that he never
learned to read and write.

The reporter said, "Imagine
what you would have become

if you could read and write."

Ernie replied, "A bookkeeper
in a video arcade."

This was a true story.

Happened to a friend of
a friend of mine.

And today, Ernie is
finally learning to read,

so he can take a
newspaper into the bathroom

just like the rest of us.

You know something Maurice?

NO!

This ain't no good at all.

NO!

I work my whole life to get
this show on the air

and then along comes some guy

who can't even talk
English good...

Not like you Larry, you talk
English the Goodest.

You know what? We gotta
come up with a plan

to save this joint.

But what can we do?

We're just a cockroach
and a maggot.

What are you talkin' about?

You and me, we're a pair,
we go together.

We do?

Yeah!

¶ WE'RE PALS, WE'RE BUDDIES, ¶

¶ WE'RE FRIENDS TO THE END. ¶

¶ WE'RE THE PICTURE
OF A MIXTURE ¶

¶ THAT IS THE PERFECT BLEND. ¶

¶ LIKE MEAT AND POTATOES? ¶

¶ CHEESE AND TOMATOES. ¶

¶ LIKE SUNSHINE AND FLOWERS, ¶

¶ WHAT'S YOURS ¶
¶ IS MINE ¶

¶ IT'S OURS. ¶

¶ LIKE SATIN AND SILK, ¶

¶ COOKIES AND MILK. ¶

¶ LIKE ROCK IS TO ROLL, ¶

¶ JAMES BROWN IS TO SOUL. ¶

¶ LIKE PEACHES AND CREAM, ¶

¶ FREUD AND HIS DREAM. ¶

¶ I'M FAT, HE'S SKINNY ¶

¶ I'M AN OUTIE, ¶
¶ I'M AN INNIE. ¶

¶ WE'RE PALS, WE'RE BUDDIES, ¶

¶ WE'RE FRIENDS TO THE END. ¶

¶ WE'RE A PICTURE
OF A MIXTURE ¶

¶ THAT IS -- ¶
[THWAP!]

[THEY WHIMPER & SCREAM]

Okay, okay, that's it,
that's it, I am out of here!

Hey Maurice, Maurice.
Where are you going?

This place is too dangerous.

You can't give up.

Oh, I can. I did.

But wait, come here wait,
I got a plan.

Yeah. And you are the key.

I am? The ... what key?

Our future is in your hands...

Oh?

well, maybe not
your hands exactly.

But another part of your body.

I don't have that many parts.

Exactly.

Stay tuned.

DAVE'S PAL:
This is a true story.

It happened to a friend
of a friend of mine.

Dave works the
graveyard shift.

See, Dave's what you call, a
Psychic Investigator.

And Dave's one of
the good ones.

That's why he was called
to that place on

Bonny Meadow Road.

The family had ghosts,
and they had 'em bad.

Their nice little
suburban backsplit,

suddenly had a little
life of its own.

It started innocently
enough with the TV

flicking on and off by itself.

No big deal. Bad wiring.

But then there were the
ringing doorbells

in the middle of the
night, but nobody there.

And then the oven door flying
open and firing the

roast chicken across
the kitchen.

And then the voice
on the phone.

The voice that kept
telling Bob and Alice,

and their teenage son Richie,

that they could never leave
the house alive!

They hadn't slept in weeks.

The noises and voices had
ruined their lives,

ruined their health, and were
ruining the house's value

at just about the time they
decided to put their house

up for sale.

Nobody was really interested in
a place with walk in closets,

central air and wall
to wall ghosts.

Dave went to work.

He would spend the night
alone in the house.

For Dave, step one: ascertain
the house is empty.

Step two: Check the
fridge for leftovers.

Dave sat down to a great
meal of leg of lamb,

potato salad, cold
pizza and beer.

Step three. Nap-time.

Steps four through ten:
wait until it got dark.

About nine o'clock, Dave
hooked up his plasmometer

and took readings
throughout the house.

Negative. No
recordable ghostal presence.

Dave did a
standard wall check --

no discernible
space/time warps.

So Dave set some
spectrum analysis codes on

his apparition apparatus,
and settled in

to watch the ball game.

11:08 p.m. The TV began to
change channels randomly.

He saw nothing
unusual except that

the Cubs had
actually won a game.

2:03 a.m. Dave is
awakened by the doorbell.

He opened the front door
and found nothing there.

This happened every
five minutes for an hour.

Once Dave came across
something of note.

At 2:48 a.m.
his pizza arrived,

but the anchovies
were missing.

3:15 a.m. During a
phone call to his office

to check massages, Dave
felt another life force

on the line.

The disembodied voice
yelled into the phone,

"Dave, get the heck
out of my house".

4:52 a.m. On his way
to the bathroom,

Dave passed a family
picture in the hallway.

Red liquid poured from the
necks and hearts of a smiling

Bob and Alice and Richie.

7:16 a.m. An exhausted
Dave stumbled into

the kitchen to make
some breakfast.

The toaster shot charred
blackened toast

into his forehead.

At eight a.m. Bob
and Alice showed up.

Dave led them to the basement,

to a tiny door
covered with cobwebs,

hidden behind the furnace.

Dave kicked open the door
to reveal Richie,

with an extension phone, the
TV remote control,

and the house's
electrical control panel

opened and rewired.

"There", said Dave,
"is your ghost".

Sob - sob, anger -
anger, as Richie

explained how he
didn't want to move

and sabotaged the house so
they could stay

in the neighbourhood.

As Dave was leaving the house,
he told Richie he'd done a

pretty good job for
an amateur.

Especially the
bleeding picture.

That's the mark of a
real haunted house.

"What bleeding picture?"
asked Richie.

This is a true story.

Happened to a friend of a
friend of mine.

Dave, who used to be one of the
great Psychic Investigators...

although now, for some reason,
he prefers to sell real estate.

Okay, buddy, do your thing.

You really think this
is going work?

Hey, Maurice are
you kidding me?

You are the Prince of
obnoxious odors,

the Count of stinky smells,

the King of
suffocating stenches...

True.

Now get out there
and let 'er rip!

[MANY FARTS]

Ha! A direct hit.

Go Maurice Go!

PIERRE: What is zat...?
Odour!?

ROSIE: Oh yeah, it just
wafts up from time to time.

Waft em!

PIERRE: I will never
get rid of ziss...

ROSIE: We never could.

PIERRE: Zat is it! Tell
your Ted zat ze deal is off.

Ha. The deal is off!

You did it Maurice.

We're staying.
We're back in business!

Hey guys, here's another
Freaky Story comin' at ya.

And they're gonna
keep on comin'. Oh yeah.

FARMER CYRUS:
This here's a true story.

It happened to a friend of
a friend of mine who got

tangled up with one of them
big-city insurance companies.

This fella from the
insurance company was always

lookin' through the claims
to see if anyone was

tryin to pull somethin'.

Well, one day he finds
this old dirt-farmer

who'd made an
awful big claim...

seemed to have worse luck than
a Bombay steak salesman.

You know, fires,
tornados, what have you!

This insurance fella decides
to drive on out to

this farm and see what's what.

Well sure enough, the place
is in real rough shape.

He goes up to where the
farmhouse used to be and

it's just a big pile of lumber

lookin' like it was pulled
apart by some big wind.

He looks around for the
barn but it's just

mainly charred stumps
and nothin' but some

make-shift shelters
for the animals.

All except the pig,

who had this real purty
brand-new stye!

I tell ya, that pig lived
better'n Ivana Trump.

And that pig was in a
beautiful brand new

electric wheelchair...

which he needed,

what with it not havin no
hind legs or nothin'.

Which got that
insurance fella thinkin'

that maybe he had this
farmer dead to rights.

So he says, "Why
don't you confess

what's goin' on here
with you and this pig?"

The farmer kinda
rears up and says

"Virgil ain't no
dirty old pig?

That pig is the
smartest, the bravest,

the most wonderful pig
in the whole wide world."

And he tells him
how one night,

his whole family woke
up to hear this pig

gruntin' out in the yard.

[HORRIFIC PIG SQUEALS]

Gruntin' that woke
the whole house up.

Next thing he knows,
there's this bangin'

at the back door, like some
giant mutant woodpecker.

'Course it brought the whole
household downstairs,

just as that pig
kicked the door in.

So this farmer grabs
his shotgun, and is

about to make some
instant bacon

when he notices there's
a twister coming

right for the house!

The farmer got his family
to the storm cellar

just before that twister came
and leveled the house.

Well this insurance man is
studying this farmer's face.

He sure don't
seem to be lyin'.

But he still wants
to know about

that suspicious barn fire.

Seems the old Guernsey
kicked a lantern over

and that old barn lit
up faster than

the parson's nose on a
Saturday night.

There was no way that that
farmer coulda got all the

animals to safety by himself.

But that pig pitched in and
got all the animals

outta there.

Then just when they thought
all the animals were safe,

they hear this cheep-cheep-
cheepinng of baby chicks

from inside the inferno.

Without a thought for
saving his own chops,

this pig grabs hold
of a burning rope,

hoists himself up to
that blazing hayloft,

gathers up those
chicks in his arms

and dives straight into
the water trough.

A perfect double gainer...

except for the tuck, which
wasn't great on account of

him having pig legs.

At least at the time, he did.

And the farmer explained he
spent the insurance money

on the wheelchair because
he owed his life

and the lives of all his
animals to that pig.

But there's just
one more thing

botherin' the insurance man.

"How come that old pig don't
have no hind legs?"

And that dirt farmer just
looks this insurance guy

right in the eye, very
serious-like, and he says

"A pig that good - you
don't eat all at once."

[WHIMPER-SCREAM]

That's a true story.

It happened to a friend
of a friend of mine.

And you can only hope
your next meal can do

as much for you!

ROSIE: Hi there, come on in.
We're open for business.

Ah yes, once again all is
right with the world.

[DISTANT FARTS]

[SNIFFS]
Oh man.

Augh... Maurice.
[COUGHS]

Hey, everything...
has it's price.

¶ WE'RE PALS, WE'RE BUDDIES, ¶

¶ WE'RE FRIENDS TO THE END. ¶

¶ WE'RE THE PICTURE
OF A MIXTURE ¶

¶ THAT IS THE PERFECT BLEND. ¶

¶ LIKE MEAT AND POTATOES? ¶

¶ CHEESE AND TOMATOES. ¶

¶ LIKE SUNSHINE AND FLOWERS, ¶

¶ WHAT'S YOURS - IS MINE -
IT'S OURS. ¶

¶ LIKE SATIN AND SILK, ¶

¶ COOKIES AND MILK. ¶

¶ LIKE ROCK IS TO ROLL, ¶

¶ JAMES BROWN IS TO SOUL. ¶

¶ LIKE PEACHES AND CREAM, ¶

¶ FREUD AND HIS DREAM. ¶

¶ I'M FAT, HE'S SKINNY ¶

¶ I'M AN OUTIE, ¶
¶ I'M AN INNIE. ¶

¶ WE'RE PALS, WE'RE BUDDIES, ¶

¶ WE'RE FRIENDS TO THE END. ¶

¶¶