Summer of Sam Page #6

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Yeah, can I dance with you, too?

- Youse better dance with each other.

- Yeah, dance together.

Now I know

why you never come out with us.

Why would I go out

with you with those Pink Panther pants?

I like to party, oh

Oh, if you let me

Whoa, whoa

Come up to see me

And let me

Baby, just party

Come on

Movin' up

And down

Move, shake it down

Ah, whoo

If you think you're groovy, mama

Let's meet face to face

Everybody's movin'

This is such a groovy place

Oh, these things

Are so fine

Let's go party

A little while

Come on and dance, baby

And turn me on

Daily News columnist Jimmy Breslin...

...received a letter today

from the. -Calibre Killer.

Police said that the handwritten letter

addressed to Mr Breslin...

...contained numerous occult symbols...

...was signed by the madman himself...

...calling himself the Son of Sam.

Son of Sam.

Hello from the gutters of NYC...

...which are filled with

dog manure, vomit...

...stale wine, urine and blood.

Hello from the sewers of NYC

which swallow up these delicacies...

...when they are washed away

by the sweeper trucks.

Screw Son of Sam. I'm not cuttin' my hair.

Hello from the cracks

in the sidewalks of New York City...

...and from the ants

that dwell in these cracks...

...and feed on the dried blood

that has settled into these cracks.

Mr Breslin, sir...

...don't think that because

you haven't heard from me for a while...

...that I went to sleep.

No. Rather, I am still here,

like a spirit roaming the night.

"Thirsty, hungry,

seldom stopping to rest...

...anxious to please Sam."

I love my work.

Now the void has been filled.

He won't let me stop killing

until he gets his fill of blood.

Tell me, Jim...

...what will you have for me July 9th?

Not knowing what the future holds...

...I shall say farewell.

And I will see you at my nextjob.

Or shall I say you will see

my handiwork at the nextjob?

PS.

Please inform all the detectives working

on the case that I wish them luck.

Keep them digging, drive on.

- Think positive.

Here are some clues to help you along.

The Duke of Death,

the Wicked King Wicker.

- Don't shoot!

What are you doing here?

The Son of Sam is running around!

Go find yourself a motel.

Get the hell out of here.

The Disciples of Hell.

John Wheaties, rapist

and suffocator of young girls.

In their blood and from the gutter...

...Sam's creation, . -Calibre.

The Son of Sam.

Let me in! Mick!

Let me in! Let me in!

What? You all right?

The Duke of Death,

the Wicked King Wicker.

F*** you, Wicked King Wicker,

Duke of Death, Son of Sam!

Come and f***in' get me!

You don't scare me! Come and get me!

I don't give a f***!

Honey. Honey, what are you doing?

- Honey, what's wrong?

- Baby, this is devil worship, OK?

This is occult. This is Manson sh*t.

There's somebody outside there?

What if he thinks I saw him?

What if he f***in' thinks I saw him?

- The Son of Sam?

- Yes, the f***in' Son of Sam.

Well, why would he think you saw him?

Did you see him?

Honey, you're scaring me.

Did you see him?

Baby, I gotta get outta here.

I gotta get outta here.

I can't take this any more.

I'm f***in' gonna have a nervous

breakdown. I gotta get outta here.

Let's go away for a whole f***in' week.

Let's just get outta here!

When do you want to go?

Right now. Let's pack up our sh*t

and get the f*** out for a while, OK?

Baby, I can't go now. Dad told me we

might have to fire one of the waitresses.

Oh, baby. Come on. Let's go.

Come on, we'll get a hot tub.

We'll get dirty movies, massages,

vibratin' beds, the whole works.

We'll just have fun, crazy fun, OK?

We could get the dirty movies here.

It's not the same, baby. It's not the same.

I can't leave Dad right now, baby...

...but we can make our own vacation here.

You'll see. We can have our own fun.

Come on.

Come on. Let's make love.

Baby. Baby? Hey, baby.

C-Could we make love with the light on?

What?

- I wanna see us.

- You wanna make love with the light on?

Yeah, I wanna see us.

Can we try it? Please?

All right. How 'bout instead

of making love, we f*** this time, huh?

- Yeah?

- OK.

Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah.

Oh!

Oh, sh*t.

Good night. Let's go to sleep.

Good night, baby.

Good evening.

This is John Jeffries, eyewitness News.

I'm here with Detective Timothy Dowd...

...head of the. -Calibre Killer Task Force.

Detective Dowd, what can you tell

our viewers about Son of Sam?

Well, John, we are putting together

a picture of the suspect... uh, slowly.

Too slowly for our tastes,

but this is a very elusive suspect.

Whenever we get there, he's gone.

We never know where he'll strike next...

What are they talking about anyway?

The man must live somewhere.

So we have a man who, we suspect...

Maybe you notice he comes home late...

This is... This is...

- This is all f***in' smoke.

- It's a farce. A farce.

...single room or an attic

or in the back of some place.

Do you have a long list of suspects?

We have a list.

We've always had a list. We have a list

now, and we have always had a list.

You know what we gotta do.

We gotta get this rat bastard.

We gotta do it.

Cos they can't do it.

And maybe we, uh...

...offer another $, in the reward, huh?

- We'd get a few more names on our list.

- Right, boss.

It's bad.

Yeah. They're gonna catch

this bastard soon, huh?

OK, do me a favour.

Buy me a little time.

Do the books one more time.

See if you find something.

Dad, it's math. It's not magic.

I've been through them four times.

If things don't change,

I don't know what will happen.

- I gotta tell Connie I gotta let her go.

- Connie?

She's our strongest waitress. You can't.

Connie's got no children.

Only one mouth has got to stay empty.

Hey, what's up?

- Hey, paesano!

- How ya doing?

- Where were you?

- Stadium. Yankees lost.

- Let's go. I'm tired.

- All right, Dad. We're gonna go.

Aspett' one minute, OK?

I got something for youse.

- We gotta go.

- I got something for both of youse.

- Oh, you do?

- Yeah. You like presents.

- What is this, Dad?

- What the hell is that?

If you go out tonight, Vinny,

make her wear it.

Dad, I'm not gonna wear this.

We're just gonna drive straight home.

Do me a favour. For your father.

This animal is killing young girls

with long, brown hair.

Please, you do it for me.

- Listen to your father

- Are you gonna gang up on me?

- Yeah.

- All right. I'll wear the Barbie doll... thing.

You make me sleep in peace.

Please? Thank you.

Let's go.

- Are they closed?

- Yeah.

- Promise?

- I swear to God.

("It's Ecstasy When You Lay Down

Next To Me" by Barry White)

I hear you coming.

- I know you're standin' there.

- I'm here. OK.

Wow!

Wow, baby.

Jesus Christ.

You look so different.

Jesus, I feel like

I'm cheating on you with you.

Wow. Wow, baby.

I wanna call you by another name.

You know what I'm gonna call you?

I'm gonna call you Sheri.

I like that name. Is it French?

Oh, yeah.

Sheri, do you want to f***?

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