House of 1000 Corpses Page #3

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KARL:

Quiet down... three.

CAPT. SPAULDING

F*** your grandmother.

STUCKY:

Yeah, I remember Mr. Alacard the

shop teacher use'ta call you Little

Dick Wick. Hey, wasn't there a song

we made up to go with that?

RICH:

(temper rising)

Shut up!

STUCKY:

(singing)

Little Dick Wick, play with his prick

Don't his smell, just make you sick.

EXT. CAPT. SPAULDING'S - NIGHT

From Ravelli's POV we watch through the window, as everybody

inside starts SHOUTING at each other.

Suddenly, Rich SHOOTS Stucky. Stucky FALLS BACKWARDS against

the wall, screaming in pain.

We move QUICKLY towards the entrance.

INT. CAPT. SPAULDING'S - NIGHT

Suddenly... CRASH! Ravelli SMASHES through the front door

knocking Karl to the ground. In the light we see that Ravelli

is wearing an OVERSIZED CLOWN HEAD. In his hand is a

sledgehammer.

Rich TURNS toward the COMMOTION. The Captain quickly WHIPS

OUT a GUN and FIRES. Rich falls dead.

Ravelli lunges at Karl, smashing him over the head with the

hammer. Ravelli's clown head comes loose and falls to the

floor. We now see that Ravelli is a bald pitbull of a man

with badly scarred skin that is painted white and red.

Karl hits the floor and begins CONVULSING violently.

Spaulding STEPS DOWN from behind the counter, puts his foot

on Karl's throat and points his pistol at Karl's head.

CAPT. SPAULDING

And most of all... f*** you!

BOOM! Spaulding SHOOTS Karl in the head.

The screen EXPLODES RED, then TURNS BLACK.

CAPT. SPAULDING (V.O.)

God damn it, that motherf***er got

blood all over my best clown suit.

CREDITS ROLL:

Strange paintings of demons, monsters and bizarre creatures

fade up and move across the screen.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - NIGHT

We see a BILLBOARD painted on the side of an ABANDONED TRUCK.

The sign reads GOD IS DEAD.

We turn to face the road as a car drives by.

JERRY:

Alright then, out of all of Charlie's

chicks who do you think is the

hottest?

INT. CAR - FRONT SEAT - NIGHT

Fast food wrappers and road maps clutter the car's dashboard,

a swinging monkey head dangles from the rear-view mirror.

Behind the wheel, the driver, BILL HUDLEY, 29, downs the

last sip of coffee before crumpling the paper cup and placing

it among the other trash before him.

BILL:

I guess if I had to choose I'd say...

mmmmmm... Sandra Good. She seemed

like a nice girl, I mean in a psycho

kind of way.

Beside him rides, JERRY GILMORE, 30, slumped down in his

seat, reading a magazine with a flashlight, feet hanging out

the window.

JERRY:

Really? Huh, I thought for sure you'd

say Lynette Fromme. She's got that

snooty vibe I know you dig.

BILL:

Sqeaky! No way, she ain't that hot.

JERRY:

She's pretty cute.

BILL:

Yeah but, she reminds me of this

chick that I remember from fourth

grade... called a... sh*t, what did

we call her?

(thinks for second)

Oh yeah, Patty Pee-pee Pants... when

ever she got called on by Miss

Chumski, this chick would piss in

her pants and start bawling.

JERRY:

(laughing)

There always one kid with no bodily

controls. We had this dude, Jeff

Baxter, he was a puker. The f***er

would just sit there puke all over

himself.

BILL:

Better than pissing... anyway so,

what's your choice?

JERRY:

If we're talking cute... like regular

cute, I'd say Leslie Van Houton, but

cute ain't hot.

BILL:

Yeah, no sh*t.

JERRY:

As far a hot... goes I gotta go

with... Ruth Ann Moorehouse.

BILL:

Oh yeah, I forgot about her. She was

pretty hot.

JERRY:

F*** yeah, she is. I'd join a cult

to get some of that... and the best

part is she didn't try to kill the

President or nothing, so that baggage

ain't hanging around.

BILL:

I thought she tried to murder a

witness for the prosecution.

JERRY:

I'll let it slide, she was only

seventeen.

BILL:

Dude, talk about baggage, that ain't

no carry-on sh*t, that's some heavy

duty Samsonite sh*t.

JERRY:

Yeah, I guess... hot chicks are always

nuts.

BILL:

Hot has got nothing to do with it.

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