Tales from the Darkside: The Movie

Wyatt:
Judith says she hasn't moved anything of yours in over four months.

Maddox:
[explaining to Jer] Judy Amato. Big gallery on West Broadway.

Wyatt:
She says if the stuff isn't out by tomorrow it gets junked.

Preston:
What? Wyatt, you've got to convince her that...

Wyatt:
I can't convince her of anything.

Preston:
Wyatt, you're my agent!

Wyatt:
Well... not exactly. Preston, your artistic vision is just not a marketable commodity.

Preston:
Wyatt, I'm broke. I can't live on nothing.

Wyatt:
And I can't live on ten-percent of nothing.

Preston:
[pause] You're a monster.

Wyatt:
I'm an agent. For an agent, being a monster is just credentials.

Halston:
[preparing to asassinate a cat] The rest of your nine lives are going in one lump-sum.

Carola:
You promised you'd never tell!

[the gargoyle has Preston in a corner outside the bar]

Preston:
[yells] No! No, please! Please, don't!

Gargoyle:
[demonic voice] Your life in exchange for a promise.

Preston:
You got it!

Gargoyle:
If I let you go, you must swear you'll never say you saw me, never say you heard me speak, never tell anyone how I look, never repeat what I've said. A promise... forever.

Preston:
You gotta be kidding.

[the monster raises its claws; growls]

Preston:
[convinced] I-I promise!

Gargoyle:
Cross your heart?

[the monster deeply scratches Preston's chest, then disappears]

Preston:
[screams in pain] I PROMISE!

Betty:
I NEVER could do long division. Let's see, how many times does twelve go into seventy-five.

Timmy:
Oh, six times, three left over. Why?

Betty:
Well, at twelve minutes a pound, that means you have to be in the oven by no later than 1:30. Oh, but evisceration takes at least an hour.

Susan:
[on the phone with Lee lying dead] Andy? You busy?

Bellingham:
[tied to a chair watching his manuscript get dumped] My master's thesis! What're you doing?

Andy:
[ripping up a page] Well, I'm going to start a little fire under your chair and roast your nuts.

Cabbie:
Hey, man, what's so f***in' funny?

Bellingham:
Oh, I was just thinkin' of this guy I know. Couldn't distinguish a third dynasty sacred scroll from a piece of post-Alexandrian pictogram porn.

Drogan:
We were a dull collection of rich, old, unhappy people.

Halston:
Don't worry, Drogan. I'll kill your cat for you.

Drogan:
Good. Kill it, bury it, and bring me its tail so I can throw it in the fire and watch it burn.

[Final scene:
The timer dings and Betty is, at long last, ready to kill and prepare Timmy]

Betty:
My goodness, you really did keep the best one for last, didn't you?

Timmy:
No, no. I've saved the really, really best story for now.

Betty:
Well, you should've told me the really, really best story before, 'cause now it's too late.

[Betty rolls the preparation cart towards Timmy's cell]

Timmy:
But it's the really best one of all because there's a happy ending, a really happy ending.

[Timmy drops the book]

Betty:
No other stories in that book have a happy ending.

Timmy:
But you gotta hear this story. It's about this kid, and his name is Timmy.

Betty:
That's nice, dear.

Timmy:
And you see, Timmy's older brother, he had this stupid paper route. And one day, Timmy's older brother got sick. Timmy had to go on collecting, and Timmy went to this one house. And this lady who answered the door, she said, "Come on in," so when he went inside, she tricked him and threw him into a pantry. She made him eat cookies all day long, 'cause she wanted him to get fat, 'cause she was gonna kill him, and cook him, and eat him!

Betty:
This is YOUR story, and you can stop telling it now because we both know how it comes out.

Timmy:
But you don't, 'cause something really weird happens.

Betty:
Oh, really?

Timmy:
Yeah.

Timmy:
[pulling out a handful of marbles from his pocket] Uh, you see, Timmy had these marbles in his pocket. They were shiny and slippery, and when he threw them on the floor...

Timmy:
[tossing the marbles on the floor]... she didn't see where they went and she slipped.

[Betty slips on the marbles and falls backside on the skewers, stabbing herself in the back; Betty screams in pain as she drops the keys whilst on the rolling prep table , rolling toward the oven]

Timmy:
Timmy saw his chance to escape...

[Betty, with the skewers in her back, arises from the table in pain]

Timmy:
...if he could just reach the keys!

[Timmy grabs the keys, frees himself, then shoves Betty onto the huge pan and sends her into her own oven to roast alive]

Betty:
[screaming] Aaaaahhh! AAAAAHHH!

[Timmy helps himself to a Shoprite Chips-A-Lot cookie]

Timmy:
[breaks the fourth wall] Don't you just love happy endings?