Bubba Ho-Tep Page #4

There was a rumour,

you know, that you hated me.

But I thought about that.

If you hated me, you could have

finished me off the other night.

All I want from you is that

you look me straight in the eye

and assure me you had nothing at all

to do with that day in Dallas,

and that you did not know

Lee Harvey Oswald or Jack Ruby.

Hey, look, man.

I had nothing to do with Dallas

and I knew neither

Lee Harvey Oswald nor Jack Ruby.

Good. May I call you Elvis

instead of Sebastian?

- You may.

- Excellent.

- You wear glasses to read?

- I wear glasses when I want to see.

Get 'em, but come on.

Come on. Right down the hall.

'The walker was swinging along easier

tonight. Not even like I needed it.

'Damn, this here Jack was a nut.

'Maybe I was nuts too,

but there was an adventure going on.'

It's in here.

In here.

That's it?

We're trying to figure out

who attacked you

and you bring me to look

at stick pictures on the shithouse wall?

Look close.

- It's Egyptian.

- Right.

Hey, you're not as stupid

as some folks made you out.

Thank you.

I copied this down yesterday.

I came in to take a sh*t because

they hadn't cleaned my bathroom,

saw that on the wall,

took it back to my room,

and looked it up in my books.

This top line translates roughly into,

"Pharaoh gobbles donkey goobers"

and the bottom line,

"Cleopatra does the nasty".

- Say what?

- That's the best I can translate it.

So one of the nuts in here,

present company excluded,

thinks he's Tutankhamen,

writes hieroglyphics on the wall?

What's the connection?

Why are we standing in a toilet?

I don't know what the connection is,

exactly. Not yet.

But that thing caught me asleep last

night and I came awake just in time.

He had me on the floor

and had his mouth over my a**hole.

- A sh*t-eater?

- I don't think so.

He was after my soul.

You can get it out of any major orifice

of a person's body. I read about it.

Where, man? Hustler?

The Everyday Man Or Woman's Book

Of The Soul by David Webb.

They got some pretty good movie reviews

in there about stolen soul movies.

Come on. I'll show you.

Oh!

I think there might be an electrical

problem in the gardener's shed.

The light looks like it's shorting out.

The whole place is falling apart,

but you don't have to think about that.

Miss Biddlestein is waiting on her enema.

All right, all right. I'm coming.

Just let me finish my cigarette first.

God!

There's an ugly son of a b*tch.

Damn! Hey, Jack.

It says here that you can bury some dude

and if he gets the right spells said

over him and such bullshit,

he can come back to life

thousands of years later.

But hold on now.

To stay alive, he has to suck

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