Hey, Hank and Wanda
are coming over to my place tonight
to watch scary movies. You should come too.
Watching scary movies on Halloween.
- That's a bit "on the nose," isn't it? - Not really.
Watching the movie "Halloween" on Halloween,
while wearing a pointy witch's hat and a goalie mask,
on Friday the 13th, that's too much.
Not sure how October 31st falls on Friday the 13th,
but yeah, I'll come over.
Brent, I need to buy some insurance.
Okie doke, that'll be $20.
- You sell insurance? - Yeah, Halloween insurance.
It's my own invention.
If someone eggs or TPs or otherwise vandalizes your
property, I get it cleaned up, no questions asked.
I usually take in about 500 or 600 bucks every year.
- Pretty ingenious, right? - It is. You know, technically,
you're turning tricks for money on Halloween.
Had to go and make it filthy.
Okay, jackass, sell me some of your stupid rip-off
- Halloween insurance. - Really?
You've never bought insurance from me before.
All righty, then. That'll be 60 bucks.
60?! It's supposed to be 20!
20 for regular folks, who don't spend
the entire calendar year pissing people off.
You're a high risk, so I need to charge a higher premium.
- That's not fair! - If it helps, you can think of it
as a "crusty crank karma clause."
How would that help?
♪ You think there's not a lot goin' on ♪
♪ Look closer, baby you're so wrong ♪
sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ Addic7ed.com ~
Ta-da! Behold my masterpiece!
I behold, and what is it?
Seriously? This is a pitch-perfect replica
of Dr. Armordillo's costume.
I spent months hand-crafting it.
I see, and who is Mr. Armordillo?
Dr. Armordillo.
He's only my favourite comic book superhero,
who didn't spend eight years in medical school
to have some rookie cop call him "Mister."
I've never heard of your obscure nerd heroes.
You never heard of Spider-Man until Tobey Maguire.
I never heard of Tobey Maguire until Spider-Man.
Touché. I can't wait to put this on
and patrol the town as a real live superhero.
I don't think it's fair that every year you patrol
in a fun Halloween costume, but I have to stay in uniform.
It's not my fault regulations dictate
one officer must remain in standard uniform,
and this costume took me months to build.
Custom airbrushed panels,
interlocking canvas straps, hinged faceplate.
I thought of everything!
Oh no!
- Did you think to measure yourself? - How could I be so stupid?
Now no one will appreciate my artistry.
I appreciate the irony.
All that work, and your scales aren't to scale?
Wait. You know who this might fit?
I hate you.
- Hi! Sorry, am I late? - Nope, right on time.
Hey, Hank. Hey, Wanda.
Geez, you scared me.
I didn't know we were supposed to wear costumes.
We're not. Hank dresses up every year as Frankenstein.
Hank-enstein.
Technically, Hankenstein's monster,
but yeah, yeah, I'm not hung up on that.
What are you, some kind of serial killer?
This isn't a costume.
My pressure cooker popped while I was making ravioli.
Hell of a mess.
And you just decided not to change?
We're watching movies, not having crumpets with Dame Edna.
Here's the knife I borrowed.
Ooh, spooky.
Are you playing one of those sound effect recordings?
Actually, no. I'm not sure what that is.
It's been happening for the past three days.
And you haven't looked into it?
Screams and such aren't that surprising in this house.
Yeah, it's got a creepy history.
- History? What history? - Hey, who wants a drink?
I have to go to the bathroom.
If any trick-or-treaters come to the door,
you have to dole out the candy.
- And be nice! - I'm always nice!
Robot and a werewolf? That makes no sense.
They're natural enemies.
If you're going out together, you should be a team.
I don't even know what the hell
you're supposed to be. Fail! You get one piece.
Hippie.
How old are you, 16?
And you're not even wearing costumes,
unless you're going as a pack of jackasses.
- I said be nice! - I'm not giving candy
to a bunch of 16-year-old punks.
You pissed off teenagers? On Halloween?
Why don't you just paint "Please egg our house" on the door?
We're in for it now. Way to go, Oscar.
I was nice to the bug-eyed thing.
This is ridiculous. I can barely move.
Dr. Armordillo built his suit for battle, not comfort.
His armor even curls into a protective ball,
like a real armadillo. The guy's a genius.
A genius would've built a costume that breathes.
I can't take it! I want out!
No! I worked too hard for this costume not to get shown off!
Look, look, I'll make you a deal.
Wear this costume this year,
and next year I'll patrol in uniform,
and you can dress up as anything you want.
Anything? Hmm... okay.
What will I go as?
Well, something slutty, for sure, but what?
Hmm... What to slut?
I'm uncomfortable with that word. Feels sexist,
but you've got all year to figure that out.
Hop in, and let's roll.
This stupid costume doesn't bend at the waist.
- I can't sit down. - Huh...
Must've forgot a few canvas hinges.
Hey, quick question.
What history are they talking about?
Oh, that history is all bunkum, and/or hogwash.
It's bunkwash.
Hmm, the fact that you're using made-up words
to discount it makes me wonder if it is.
It's nothing. It's just gossip and fiddle-faddle.
It's gossy-foddle.
Well, let's give Lacey the lowdown,
and let her judge for herself. Shall we?
We shall.
This house, the one we're in right now,
was built by George and Julie Aberdeen.
They lived here for years, but in their retirement,
- they took in a renter... - They rented a room
to a man who had just moved to town.
A butcher, looking for work.
Lotta folks say there was something odd about that man,
and maybe there was...
...because soon after he moved in,
the Aberdeens went missing.
Butcher said they had gone on vacation,
- a cruise... - ...but folks were suspicious,
because George and Julie were always short on money.
Rumours began to swirl that Butcher had
locked them in the basement crawlspace,
where they starved to death.
Some say there are fingernail marks
on the crawlspace door,
where they scratched in vain to get out.
Okay, well, Happy Halloween, and here's me leaving.
They're just trying to scare you.
It's all a bunch of hinkus dinkus and malarkey.
Wow, you have a lot of grampa words
- to discredit stuff. - Hooey!
No one was ever locked in the crawlspace, and I'll prove it.
We'll all go down and have a look,
and we will see exactly zero scratch marks.
- Awesome! - Cool!
Yeah, let's go to the basement,
because that's never how a horror movie starts.
Well, it took a bit of ingenuity, but we got it figured out.
Telling me to walk beside the car doesn't take a lot of ingenuity.
Well, you didn't come up with it.
You really think those teenagers are going to attack our house?
How would I know? But definitely.
- Rotten, no good... - Relax.
At the end of the day, you got Halloween insurance,
so whatever happens, Brent will clean it up.
Sure. But we should still keep a look-out.
Not fair for Brent to have to do a buncha work
because of some stupid kids.
It's not like you to care about your son.
How dare you?!
My dear boy and I have an unshakeable bond
- that could never be... - You didn't buy insurance, did you?
That jerk was ripping me off with his higher
premiums and crusty karma, and I wasn't gonna
- let him screw me over! - Well, isn't that great?
So now a gang of teenagers will screw us instead.
You're hopeless, and we're hooped.
I got a bad feeling about this.
Jeez, relax. Look, the lights are still on upstairs.
- It's probably just a fuse. - A shrieking fuse?
Look, the ghost clearly doesn't want us to be here.
Say what you want about ghosts,
but they give people plenty of warning to get out.
Sometimes they even say, "Get out!"
This will only take a second, and then we can head back up.
Why are you gasping? There's clearly no scratch marks.
I just assumed there would be,
but you're right, it's all smooth.
Wait... the colour of the door is different
than the inside of the crawlspace.
The inside of the door was repainted!
And those hinges look new, too.
Who's that?
Oh, it's probably trick-or-treaters.
Okay, I checked the basement windows, and we're all locked up.
- So far, so good. - Think again.
They soaped our living room windows?
You know this is all your fault.
I know, I know! I'll get the flashlights.
Nothing else is happening to this house!
Trick or treat!
This has all the elements of a horror movie,
and you're just blindly ignoring it.
Which is also an element of every horror movie.
Exactly. It happens in movies.
Wanda, there's gotta be some logical, rational,
sciency explanation for all this, right?
I read that hauntings may be manifestations
of negative energies trapped in a physical space.
And this is the part where the quirky nerd
explains how we all get murdered.
- "Cute" quirky nerd? - So the negative energies
of the Aberdeens are forever trapped in your crawlspace.
- That proves it! - Proves what?
That someone painted a door?
Can we just put all this creepy psycho stuff
behind us and go watch "Montana Murder Ranch"?
Okay, we're here. What's the emergency?
We didn't call the cops.
Maybe you didn't. What took you so long?
- And where's Karen? - Karen is, uh...
bringing up the rear.
Who are you supposed to be?
Professor Possum, or Admiral Aardvark.
You ever heard of him?
Exactly. You ever hear of Spider-Man?
- Of course. - Yeah, well... still.
I pissed off some Halloweeners,
and now they're out for blood.
- I want police protection. - Protection?
- What are a few kids gonna do? - It wasn't little kids.
- It was teenagers. - You pissed off teenagers?
Oh, no. They're the worst kind of 'agers.
I know. They've already soaped our windows.
God only knows what they'll do next.
I'll radio Karen to secure the perimeter.
You two, stay sharp.
I'll go look for teenagers with soapy hands.
Now, if you don't want "Montana Murder Ranch,"
there's also "Texas Bloodbath Blitz,"
"The Lone Star Slaughter,"
or "Terror on Tumbleweed Trail."
Boy, we've got a real western theme going here.
What I want to know is,
who owned this house after the Aberdeens' demise?
That's the thing.
After the Aberdeens died in the basement,
the Butcher conveniently produced a document
- that transferred the title to him. - Nobody died
or demised in my basement.
In the months that followed,
more people from town went missing.
Okay, you're freaking me out.
That's 'cause she's bottom-lit by her phone.
Oh, it's a notification. Hot Singles in My Area.
Talk about fake news. Anyway...
Rumours started to swirl about there being
a locked freezer in the garage.
There's nothing wrong with a locked freezer.
Meat is valuable.
Is it so hard to believe people might steal steaks?
Or that people might become steaks!
Anyway, one day,
the police went to confront the Butcher,
but he'd left town, and...
- he took his freezer with him. - Full of human steaks?
Some say there's still a blood stain on the floor
where the freezer used to be.
Who are these "some people" who say all these things?
Some say they were residents of the town.
Okay.
Who's there?
Ah! Stupid piece of junk!
Ah, finally.
Emma! There's a demon in the garden!
What the... Karen, you're supposed to be
at Oscar and Emma's, but you're trick or treating?
Look, I get that you're angry, but acting out like this?
Pretty unprofessional.
DRPD.
Davis! The teen demons are here!
There's children in the corn!
Teens are attacking.
We gotta go.
Fine, I'll carry you.
Have a look for yourselves.
There are no stains on the floor.
- There's a stain. - Okay, that's oil.
There's a stain. - That one's anti-freeze,
and that one over there is mustard.
Sometimes I barbecue hot dogs in here in the winter.
Huh. There isn't a single crack.
Highly irregular for concrete from the '50s,
wouldn't you say?
What are you, a concrete maven?
When concrete is poured,
the company often presses a date stamp into it.
- A-ha! 1985. - So it is new.
Nice try, floor, you lying slab of stains!
How many kids are in this town?!
A demon teen? You have to be more specific.
That could be any one of them.
It had claws and beady red eyes, and...
- And it was me. - Karen?
You're supposed to be over there.
Wait, if you're Karen, then...
- My name's Kenny. - Two Dr. Armordillos?
See, Karen? I told you he was popular.
Can we get back to the pimply terrorists
who are trying to destroy my house?
DRPD.
Uh-huh.
- Missing child... - Uh-oh.
Dressed like a scaly rat dentist.
- He's a doctor. - Got it.
- We'll keep a look-out. - Kenny, this was a test
to see if you'd trust strangers, and you failed miserably.
Leave the candy and run along.
Oh, look. His knees can bend.
Be that as it may, it's been a good night.
We found a lost kid, scored some candy,
- and prevented more vandalism. - Not so fast.
Well, thank god we have Halloween insurance.
Oh, right... we don't.
- That is a lot of toilet paper. - Two ply.
- High-grade stuff. - Davis, take senior rat
and go arrest every teenager in town.
If you arrest the teens, you just make them more angry.
Look, the longer we stand here,
the more time the rest of the house is exposed.
Everyone, take a side and protect it.
Look, it doesn't take science to know that Brent's
house is being haunted by the ghosts of the Aberdeens.
Wrong. I googled their obituaries.
They died on a Mediterranean cruise.
That's tragic,
but for my purposes here... A-ha!
Then your house is being haunted by...
- the Butcher. - How is he haunting me?
It's the Aberdeens that died, and it doesn't help
that you keep calling him "The Butcher."
He's got a name. It's Murray.
Here we go. I found him.
Murray Butcher. He moved to Stonewood.
Opened Butcher's Butcher Shop.
Okay, that's on the nose.
He ran it for 20 years, then retired.
End of story.
- And then he died. - Oh.
Three days ago.
How long did you say
your house was making weird noises?
I can't remember.
- You said it was three... - It was three days.
Ouch!
- Hey! - Sorry about that.
Thought you were a teen.
Got a little trigger-happy.
It's too dark to find rocks to throw.
Anything going on here?
Nothing. All is quiet.
Almost... too quiet.
Nope. Just about the right amount.
Davis, are you there?
Roger.
Sorry, Roger, can I talk to Davis?
I love that gag.
I hate that gag. You see anything?
I saw something, and I caught something.
Okay, so I think that now we can all agree
there is a ghost in Brent's house.
- I emphatically disagree. - Brent's right.
It could very well be some other evil, undead entity.
We should cover all our bases.
Get some holy water, garlic, wooden stakes.
- What if it's a werewolf? - Oh, good point.
Lacey, go melt your earrings.
Wanda, go find Brent's bullet-maker.
We don't necessarily have to fight this thing.
We could try reasoning with it.
Brent, where's your Ouija board?
It's in the cloakroom with my crossbow and crystals.
This is no time to make jokes!
The one who makes jokes usually dies first.
I thought it was the virgin.
- Any last words, Hank? - Uh...
maybe we could conjure up a bigger ghost
to punch this one out.
Lacey, hop on the Ouija and dial up Andre The Giant.
Everyone take a breath and come back to Earth.
We're here to have some fun and watch a movie,
so let's do that. Here's one.
"The Basement Butcher of Bog Hollow."
- It's very thematic. - Can't do it.
- Nope. - I'm out.
Those little bastards egged the house!
- Karen, where are the perps? - The perps are right here.
Emma's the one who's been trashing the house.
The metal in that costume has leaked into her brain.
It's fiberglass. Each piece lovingly hand-crafted.
I got suspicious because she always
seemed to be missing from the group
when the vandals struck...
So, when she told everyone to spread out,
I kept my eye on her.
I found a button on the costume
that helped me go undercover.
Sort of.
Anyway, that's when I saw Emma throwing eggs
at her own house!
Fine, I admit it.
I would've gotten away with it, too,
if it wasn't for this masked meddler!
Usually the one in the mask gets caught by meddling...
Well, you've all seen Scooby-Doo,
you know how it plays out.
You've been on me all night about not getting insurance,
and then you go and vandalize our own home? Why?
Because I bought Halloween insurance.
I knew you would be too cheap, so I bought it myself,
and since we were covered,
I took the opportunity to mess with you
and pretend teens were attacking the house.
So Brent has to clean this up after all?
Well...
let's make it good and messy, then!
H'yah!
Bye! Have a terrific evening!
I'll stay here alone with the crazy killer ghost
that I'm not afraid of!
Y-you guys, wait!
Takes a shocking and keeps on gnawing.
Well, I guess the mystery is solved.
Yep. The raccoons are possessed
by the ghost of Murray Butcher.
I can't believe you're scared of raccoons.
Cute, furry little...
What a mess.
Geez, I was right when I said you were a high-risk case.
You better get busy. There's lots to clean up.
- Yep. We'll get on it right away. - "We'll" get on it?
I always subcontract the cleaning to teenagers.
Cheap labour, and I pocket the difference.
- I hate kids. - Especially our own.
♪ I don't know ♪
♪ The same things you don't know ♪
♪ I don't know ♪
♪ I just... don't know ♪
♪ Ooh... ♪
♪ It's a great big place ♪
♪ Ooh... ♪
♪ Full of nothin' but space ♪
♪ Ooh... ♪
♪ And it's my happy place ♪
♪ I don't know ♪
sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ Addic7ed.com ~