The Comedy of Terrors Page #3

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I tried.

Couldn't you get somebody else?

No, I have my heart

set on Black.

Now, come.

Let's try again.

All right, I'll try,

but I can't promise.

Now grab the roof.

What do you think I'm...

I'm trying to do?

Well, do it before

you break my back.

Here I go.

Well, go then!

Planning to spend the night

up there, are you?

Definitely not.

I don't think

this is a good idea.

Go on!

Go on, get on up there.

Why did I ever

escape from prison?

It was so peaceful there.

You're gonna open that door for

me if it takes you all night.

"Turn, hell-hound, turn!

"Of all men else

I have avoided thee:

"but get thee back;

"my soul is too much charged

with blood of thine already.

"I have no words:

my voice is in my sword:

"thou bloodier villain than

terms can give thee out!

"Thou losest labor:

"as easy mayst thou

the intrenchant air...

"that thy keen blade

impress as make me bleed:

"let fall thy blade

on vulnerable crests;

"I bear a charmed life...

"that must not yield,

to one of woman born.

"Despair thy charm;

"and let the angel whom

thou still hast served...

"tell thee, Macduff was from his

mother's womb untimely ripp'd."

"Accursed be that tongue

that tells me so...

"for it hath cow'd

my better part of man!

"And be these juggling

fiends no more believed...

"that palter with us

in a double sense..."

Come on, go to sleep.

"And break it to our hope.

"I'll not fight with thee.

"Then yield thee, coward,

and live to be the show...

"and gaze o' the time:

"we'll have thee as

our rarer monsters are...

"painted upon a pole

and underwrit...

"'Here may you see the tyrant.'

"I will not yield...

"to kiss the ground before

young Malcolm's feet...

"and to be baited

with the rabble's curse."

Crazy as a bedbug.

"Though Birnam Wood

be come to Dunsinane...

"and thou opposed,

being of no woman born...

"yet will I try the last.

"Before my body I throw

my warlike shield.

"Lay on, Macduff, and damn'd

be he who first cries...

"'Hold, enough!"'

Have at you, sir!

Who are you?

Gillie is my name.

Help! Help!

Get up. Get up!

Where am I?

Outside of Mr. Black's house.

- Do you know what happened?

- No. What?

He recited a hymn or something.

Then he chased me

with a big sword.

Ow.

You rang, sir...

Sir!

Get up! We've got

to make a run for it.

You've bungled it again.

It wasn't my fault.

Oh, no, it's never

your fault, is it?

It's always...

Is that Black's servant?

Where's he going?

I know where he's going.

- Where?

- To the police.

Well, follow him.

Stop him! Go on.

A fine mess you've

made of things again.

Servant, where are you going?

To fetch the doctor, sir.

My master's unconscious

on his bed.

- He's dying.

- Dying?

Dying.

I wanted you to stop him.

Why did you let him go?

Why? Because Mr. Black is dying.

Oh.

Oh, how sad.

This man is dead.

Are you positive, Doctor?

I beg your pardon.

No offense intended, sir.

It's simply that

Mr. Black has been...

subject to catalepsy

for several years now.

- Oh.

- Oh, yes.

Several times he's

presumed to have died...

only to revive some hours later.

I see. Well, I'm quite

surely positive he's dead.

But if you wish, I'll

apply a few more tests.

Oh, if you would, sir, if only

to be absolutely certain.

All right.

He left the window open.

I'm sorry, but your

master is quite dead.

Up, down.

Up and down all night long.

Up and down and up...

He has departed the earth,

tenderhearted his soul...

no longer by grief invaded,

and music lingers from...

Yes?

Good evening.

Mr. Black and I

have an appointment.

Pick up your end, Mr. Gillie.

You're dragging.

My end must be heavier

than... than your end.

You're going too

fast, Mr. Tremble.

Butterfingers.

He's... he's pretty heavy

for such a skinny bird.

He probably has all his gold

sewed up inside of him.

All right... 1, 2, 3...

There.

Well, how nice to see

you here, Mr. Black.

We are not going to

embalm him tonight.

We haven't embalmed

anybody in 6 years.

Why should we start now?

- I just thought...

- Well, don't!

You don't do it very well.

Me for bed.

And me for getting

the horses to bed.

Honestly, if it...

if it weren't for

poor Amaryllis...

I don't think...

Did you speak?

Now what in the name of

heaven is wrong with you?

Well, what about him?

I don't... I don't think...

he's quite dead

enough yet to bury.

You don't think he's quite

dead enough yet to...

What... place is this?

You.

Not me!

Mr. Trumbull...

This man...

W-what am I doing here?

You're here because

you're dead, Mr. Black.

The hell I am!

Oh, yes, you are.

Everybody else knows

you're dead, Mr. Black...

except apparently you.

What jiggery-pokery is this?

Not jiggery-pokery, Mr. Black.

Hinchley and Trumbull

Funeral Parlor.

You wouldn't dare.

Have we a choice, Mr. Black?

Dead, huh?

That's what the doctor said.

Well, he's dead now.

Let's put him in the casket.

I don't even want

to see him anymore.

You're not going to bury

him in it, are you?

In our one good casket?

Are you out of your mind?

Here we go.

Well.

Me for bed.

Me, too.

What, by...

Oh, no.

What place is this?

Shut the lid!

What are you trying to do?

Break my hand?

Come on, come on.

Be a nice boy and stay in

there where you belong.

No! No! No!

What's the matter

with that idiot?

Doesn't he know when to quit?

Let me out of here!

We most certainly will not

let you out of here, sir.

Confound you, sir!

Confound you, too, sir!

Will you kindly have

the goodness to die?

Never!

Help!

Let me out!

For a man in his condition...

he certainly has

a lot of energy.

The stubborn crackpot.

I could have sworn he was dead.

It's about time.

I've never had such

an uncooperative customer...

in my whole life.

I regard your actions as

inimical to good fellowship.

- Oh, no, you don't!

- Oh, yes.

- Leave me alone.

- Oh, yes, we do.

He bit me!

The son of a bit me!

- Let me out of here!

- Hand me that mallet.

Let me... out of...

Get me a gag and some chain.

- Mr. Tremble.

- Trumbull.

I said Tremble.

Everybody's here.

All right. Tell them

we'll be ready in a minute.

Is he dead?

Yes. Now, get out of here.

Ungrateful employer.

He is not dead but sleepeth

He is not dead at all

His eyes will open

and he will see

The beauties of eternity

He is not dead but sleepeth

He is not dead at all

I wish she would have

picked another song.

I wish her vocal

cords would snap.

He is not dead but sleepeth

He hath not left our side

For constantly

Could we but view

He watches everything we do

He is not dead but sleepeth

He is not dead

At all

Huh? What? What?

You know, if Mr. Black

wasn't dead already...

that note would kill him.

My friends, we have gathered

ourselves together...

within these

bog-grieved walls...

to pay homage to

the departed soul of...

what's-his-name...

whom the pious and unyielding

fates have chosen to pluck...

from the very prime

of his existence...

and place in the bleak

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