All language subtitles for Freaky Stories - 2x03 - Last Cab Fare Nude in the RV Alligator in the Sewer Do Unto Others_Legendas01.ENG

¶¶¶

Now look.
You promised.

No passing gas when
we're on the air.

How many times do I
have to tell you?!

You have to learn
to control yourself!

We have a show to...
[fart sound]

That wasn't me.

No it was me.

Shall we run the
first Freaky Story.

This is a true story.

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

Marty.

He was this kid who drove my
cab on the graveyard shift.

One time, near
the end of his run,

he was tired and
ready to call it a night,

when a kinda smallish
weird-looking guy came out

of a Chinese restaurant
and flagged him down.

Marty was 'off duty', but
he figured he might as well

pick up this one last fare.

The guy got into the back
and gave him an address on

the outskirts of town.

Not an actual street number,
just an intersection.

An intersection, that time
of night in a neighbourhood

that was a little scary.

It just didn't feel right.

And the guy, he
didn't look right.

He was all pale
and pasty looking,

like he'd never
seen the sun.

Kinda ghost like.

Spooky.

Plus, he had a weird smell.

Something like
peanut butter sandwiches.

Familiar.

But not exactly something
Marty could identify.

"You meeting
somebody there?"

Marty asked, just to fill
the air with conversation

instead of fear.

"Not exactly some BODY,"
the little pale smelly man

replied.

"Not some BODY?
Then what?"

Marty was scared to say
it, but it came out anyway.

"Some THING???"

The little man laughed.

Only it wasn't
a normal laugh.

It was more like a cackle...

an eerie, witchy cackle.

And as if Marty wasn't
already frightened enough,

he glanced into the
rear-view mirror and saw

that his weird passenger was
waving around a stick with a

hook on the end.

And Marty remembered last
year when that hook maniac

escaped from the loony bin.

Marty's mind went wild.

That hook was gonna end up
in the back of his head,

he thought.

Get out, get out and
run, that was one option.

The other was to
concentrate on his driving.

The fog had gotten so thick,
it was like driving through

a cotton ball.

Running through that didn't
sound too good either.

So, he turned down the road
where he was supposed to

drop the guy off.

And wouldn't you know it,
the road was like a scene

from some zombie movie.

What with the fog and weeds
overgrown on both sides.

Not to mention the smell,
like a jungle or something.

Marty couldn't wait to
get rid of his fare,

so he started driving faster
than he should have been.

Then, WHOA!

Some huge thing
jumped out of the fog.

Marty slammed on the breaks!

He missed whatever it
was but went into a skid.

Off the road,
slamming through the bushes,

coming to a
stop in the ditch.

"This will be fine..."

said the little
weirdo in the back.

He tossed Marty a
twenty and hopped out.

Marty couldn't believe it.

He jumped out of the cab and
saw the guy disappear into

the mist.

He turned to his poor cab
and scratched his head.

Looks like he'd have
to radio for a tow.

But the tumble into the
ditch must knocked

out the radio.

He was stranded.

In the middle of nowhere
while out there somewhere,

a weird little creature who
looked like the living dead

was meeting some THING.

Suddenly the car shuddered!

Marty snapped
his head around.

Behind him loomed a
gigantic ink- black shadow.

Panicked, Marty
tried the ignition...

but the key jangled
out of his hands.

Then somehow, with some
otherworldly power behind

it, the car
surged onto the road.

For the first time, Marty
saw the true enormity of...

the "thing".

It had to be some
kind of monster.

What else could be that
huge and that powerful...

and smell that bad.

Marty was sure he was about to
be the "thing's" next meal.

He scrambled up, shaking,
feeling some kind of hot

breath behind him.

His brain was saying,
"Run, Marty, run."

But his feet were
too scared to move.

Something
tapped his shoulder.

Marty froze.

Did he dare to turn around
and see the unimaginable?

Slowly, trembling...It
was the little man,

his scary face lit
up in a big smile.

"What's a matter?

Ain'tcha never seen
an elephant before?"

Marty's heart stopped as a
huge form emerged from the

ditch, trunk outstretched...

reaching for him...

then plopping four
tickets into his hand,

"I parked him
here this morning.

I had this urge for Chinese
food and Princess didn't fit

in the restaurant."

Which even made
Marty smile...a little.

"We open Thursday.
And bring the kids!

'Cause everybody
loves the Circus!"

And off the two
of them went.

Two tons of circus
elephant and her affable,

but somewhat
peculiar trainer.

Hey.
It was a true story.

It happened to a
friend of a friend of mine.

Marty, who I don't see much,
now that he'll only work

the day shift.

Hey, I got nothing
to be ashamed of.

It's a natural
body function.

And my body is a temple.

Yeah. Some temples have
bells, some have gongs.

Larry's got
Pppprrrppprrrppprrr!

This is a true story.

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

Pete.

He drives a big rig
cross-country two,

three times a month.

Pete's one of the best
wheel jockeys on the road.

One of the toughest too.

But like with all
those macho guys

it's the woman who wears
the pants in the family.

Trouble started
when Pete's misses,

that'd be Marge, talked
Pete into taking a vacation.

Ha!

Some vacation.

Ya know the old
saying, once a truck driver,

always a truck driver.

Pete and Marge decided to go
down south for a little R & R

and travel Pete's truck route.

So they hitched
up their trailer

and hit the open road.

Now, the thing about Pete is
he is a creature of habit.

After driving big rigs
for all those years,

well he was used to
sticking to a schedule.

He'd look at a map and
figure that he'd be able to

make it from say, this truck
stop to that truck stop

in exactly so many hours.

And being a
creature of habit,

that's what he did -- he
visited all his favorite

truck stops -- even
when he was on vacation.

But on the third day out,
the pace began to get to Pete.

He was getting kind
of bleary-eyed

and he needed to rest.

Relaxing can take its
toll on someone like Pete.

So, he said it was time to
go home and suggested that

Marge take over the driving
while he went 'round back

and got some shut eye.

Now, Marge had never
towed anything bigger than a

shopping cart in her life,
but Pete assured her there'd

be no problem --
everything on that baby

was in tip top shape.

Marge slid over into
the driver's seat.

How hard would
it be for her?

Pete spread the maps on the
bench beside her and traced

out their route
with a magic marker.

Then he pointed out the
controls and the dials that

she'd need to keep her eyes
on while driving the rig.

He was sure nervous
about not being in control,

but what could he do?

The road was beginning to
look like a wriggling snake.

So he dragged himself
back to the trailer,

got out of his clothes
and snuggled into the bunk,

wearing nothing but
his birthday suit...

which is how
macho guys sleep.

Fifteen minutes later, he
was just about dozed off

when there was a lurch and
the trailer screeched

to a stop.

Pete figured they'd
only gone about ten miles.

The door swung open and
there was Marge asking all

kinds of questions about the
maps and Pete's directions.

After the
questions were answered,

Pete settled back
in for his snooze

and they started up again.

But after an
hour, they stopped.

Real short.

Tumbled Pete right
out of the sack.

The way Pete figured, they
were at the crossroad of the

I-19 and the 105.

The door swung open.

He was right.

"Is it okay if the needle
on the thingie is halfway

between the
green and the red?"

Pete told her that it was.

Marge looked at
him for a second.

"Why are you sitting
on the floor like that?

That's what the bed's for."

Pete settled
back into the bunk.

Marge drove for another
hour and came to a stop.

According to
Pete's calculations,

Marge had made it
home, exactly on schedule.

Well, being dead tired
and he thought in his own

driveway he could just
streak into his house

without bothering to
put on his clothes.

Problem was, while
Pete was snoozing,

Marge got lost and
pulled into a truck stop.

So while Pete was
getting out of the trailer,

Marge was
getting directions.

She got back in
and drove off --

just after Pete stepped out.

So there he was naked.
Totally buck Naked.

Ha, Ha, his wife and his
trailer toodling off down

the road and he was the
laughing stock of his

buddies.

The big galoots
howled their heads off.

Ha, Ha...

Now this is a true story.

It happened to a
friend of a friend of mine.

Oh, oh, the other truck
drivers did have another

laugh when one of them
called the Highway Patrol

and told them to take
Pete back to where he

came from...

The Sunnybuns Nudist Colony.

Ha, Ha...I love
it...Ha, Ha!...

So are we done with...

you-know- what?

You're just jealous
because I've got a talented

you-know-what.

[fart sound]

Yeah, well, how about this?

[farting Jingle Bells]

And so, the
concert continues.

We'll be back after
this next Freaky Story.

This is a true story.

It happened to a
friend of a friend of mine,

Stanley.

When he was a little kid, he
went off to visit his Uncle

Elmo, a weird old coot
who lived in the Florida

Everglades.

That's where Stanley found
this little baby alligator,

with which he played a lot.

Stanley even
said that Rocky,

the name he
called this alligator,

would come when he called.

Which a person
could believe.

But getting an alligator
to fetch and roll over...

I don't know.

Well, when it came time
for Stanley to go back home,

his poor little heart was
broken in a million pieces.

He'd have to leave Rocky but
Uncle Elmo put Rocky in a

box, poked some holes in
it so Rocky could breathe

and mailed it back to
Brooklyn, Air Mail,

Special Delivery.

But fate sent Rocky
'round the world...

or so it seemed.

Then, after two weeks,
the package shows up.

So Stanley's mom
opened the box.

Out popped Rocky.

He was starvin'.

Them jaws were
snappin' at everything.

Rocky went for
Mom's shoes...

could be they once
were a relative.

[screams]

Rocky was lickin' his
chops for a taste

of the family mutt.

[screams]

But Stanley's old man
was kinda fond of the

family mutt.

So he grabs this broom,
corners the baby gator and,

talk about bad timing,
Stanley walks in just as his

old man flushes
Rocky down the toilet.

"No!!"
screams Stanley.

[screams]

But there went Rocky, gone
in a swirl of blue water.

But this is not
where the story ends.

No way.

You see, I met Stanley when
he came to work with me.

Sewer
maintenance was the gig.

Oh sure, Stanley heard
rumours that there were all

kinds of creatures living in
the New York sewer system.

I mean, there were legends
of rats the size of

St. Bernards, leaches as long
as a Louisville Slugger and

snakes that could eat the
rats and leaches for an

appetizer.

And get this.

One rainy night,
Stanley's down under,

workin' clog detail, when he
heard this terrified scream

from down the tube.

He got about twenty yards
and screeched to a halt.

There I was,
sittin' in the muck,

my face white as
a porcelain bowl.

Stanley helped
me up and asked,

"What happened?"

So I told him that I
was rakin' away when this

monster with about a hundred
teeth leaps out of the water

and bites the
rake clean in half.

And when Stanley picked up
the rake and saw that was

for sure teeth marks,
he starts to back away.

That's when he
spotted two yellow,

slitty eyes bobbing just
above the surface of the

water, sizing Stanley up.

At which point, Stanley
hollered and started to run.

He turned to look.

There was this alligator
that Stanley swears

was ten feet long.

And it was comin' after him.

Stanley ran
fast as he could.

But the sewer bottom was
slippery and there was lots

of slop to get tangled in.

The alligator
was right there.

It lunged.
Stanley ducked to the side.

The huge jaws were
snarlin' and snappin'.

Stanley screamed,
"No! Please! No!"

Suddenly the alligator
stopped.

It looked at Stanley.

Stanley looked at it.

The gator's yellow
eyes kinda glinted...

and so did Stanley's.

"Rocky?"
he says, "is that you?"

It took a couple of seconds
for that to sink into the

alligator's brain.

And he winked.

Was it a smile?
Who knows.

Then the big gator just
turned and swam away.

Now, that was a true story.

Happened to a friend
of a friend of mine.

And Stanley, he
went on to university.

Majoring in the study
of reptiles, he is.

[long fart]

That may have been
my personal best.

Well I got a
better best for you.

[hissing sound]

What are you talking about?
What better best.

[choking]

It took me years to
perfect the Stealth Fart.

This is a true story.

It happened to a
friend of a friend of mine.

Mabel.

Quite a beauty
back in her day.

It seems there was this
boy, named Harold who was

obsessed with
becoming a scout.

Not just any
scout, but the best,

most helpful scout ever.

Except Harold's help usually
came close to killing us.

Take the time Harold
spotted sweet little Mabel,

dear-heart that she is,
making her way down the

boulevard, carrying a small
bunch of daisies she bought

to put a little
sunshine into her life.

All of a sudden Harold
swooped down like a hawk,

saying "Let me help
you across the street."

And before Mabel
can let out a peep,

Harold's leading her
to the other side,

where he flashed his biggest
best scout wanabee smile,

and hurried off to
find another victim.

Problem was; sweet
little old Mabel didn't

want to cross.

And trying to get back was
like trying to cut across a

racecar speedway.

The cars whizzed
by like rockets,

spinning Mabel
around like a top.

Her daisies ended up on the
windshield of a Buick so the

driver couldn't see and he
slammed into Mr. Carletti's

fruit stand.

And then there was the time
Harold showed up with a tray

of marshmallow bon bons.

Someone mentioned how Harold
had finally turned out to be,

"Such a fine young
man, indeed!"

And then they clamped their
traps down on the soft and

oozing marshmallow delights,
and discovered a mine field

of peanut brittle lurking
under the delicious goo.

It shattered the few
teeth some of them had left.

The "OUCHES" echoed
through the hall like the

thunder of Hercules.

But, alas, to Harold's
desensitized ears it sounded

like a chorus of
Angels singing his praises.

But the straw that broke
the camel's back came one

morning when the folk from
the retirement home met in

the park for their weekly
Tai Chi exercise class,

and their usual instructor,
the gentle Mr. Lee

was home, with the flu.

And you-know-who...

yup, our Harold
volunteered to take over.

Replaced the ancient
Tai Chi sway-and-flo with

rock-n'-roll, blasting
from a supersonic boom box,

and shouting,
"SHAKE THE BOTTOM,

SHAKE THE TOP, SHAKE
THEM BONES TILL THEY POP!"

And the poor frail creatures
popped-until-they-dropped.

Mabel the daisy lady
whispered to her friends,

"Let's not get
mad, dearies....

let's get even!"

"Welcome to the Sunset
Palms Retirement Home,

Old Mabel said to Harold
who was looking oh so proud

and handsome in his
best go-to-church duds.

"It was nice of you
to invite me to lunch,"

said Harold, as he was
seated at the head of the

long table, and
served the first course,

which was at best
described as 'warm slurp'.

Harold politely said,
"It's good. Real good!"

"Glad you like it, Harold,"
added old Lucas,

"Because there's plenty
more where that came from!"

And no sooner did Harold
polish off one course than

another was served
to him,

and another,

and another,

until finally the last
of the warm slurp

had been slurped and Harold
got up on his feet to say he

never ate such tasty
food in his whole life,

adding, "I can hardly
wait til I grow old myself,

so I can eat all the
strained food I want!"

"STRAINED FOOD?!"
they all shouted at once.

"That wasn't
strained food!".

Mabel replied with glee.

"It was pre-chewed food!

Personally pre-chewed
by us 'old- timers',

and served to our
favorite scout, Harold!"

This is a true story.

It happened to a
friend of a friend of mine.

As for Harold, all he eats
these days is HARD boiled

eggs, HARD salami
and HARD candy.

Hey. Look at this, a
letter for Maurice.

Dear Maurice, how
did you get started

in show business?

Well, it all started...
When I was a little bugger.

I told my first joke.

Why did the slug
cross the road?

It didn't!

It got squooshed by
an eighteen wheeler.

[laughing]

Then I met my first love...

Henrietta, who encouraged
me to sing and dance and

squirt seltzer down my pants.

Ahhhhhhhh...

I love to get
myself all fizzy.

One day...
Forget it.

Where am I gonna find
someone dumb enough to be a

cockroach's
sidekick for free.

Sorry, I'm looking for
a quarter I dropped

in the parking lot.

Whay are you looking here?

The light's better here.

I found him.

I owe it all to Larry.

Yeah well, even a
genius can have a bad day.

See ya.

¶¶¶