Ernest Scared Stupid Page #2

So in other words,

it might be better if

I came back another day.

Aahhhhh!

Ahhhhhhhh!

Pretty scary scream, huh?

My heart was in my throat.

You have a rare gift.

You haven't seen the grand finale yet.

Come here.

See, they'll come in here

and go through that door

and up this way, where Joey

hits 'em in the face with a mop.

A wet mop.

Then they'll have to crawl

through all these peeled grapes

while I'm screaming, "Where are my eyes?

Don't step on my eyeballs!"

Gross! But I love it.

It's the Murdocks!

Look out, witch! It's an earthquake!

It's a big one... 5.3

on the Richter scale!

Quick! Let's run out the back!

It's caving in! It's caving in!

Get out! You're gonna die!

We're caving in!

Let's run for it! Go! Go!

You buttheads made a big mistake!

Hey, where do you think you're going?

The fun's just beginning!

I don't know what to do. They

wrecked our haunted house.

They... they wrecked your haunted house?

Yeah.

You know, what you need is some of that

hysterical perspective,

know what I mean?

Not... really.

You need to learn a self-defense lesson

from... tiny Botswana, that...

plucky little nation

that defeated the...

giant Ottoman Empire.

Ernest, what does that

have to do with me?

I'm glad you asked.

It was a dark night in lower Botswana.

Giant bula bula flies

droned in the still air.

Then it came...

the screeching war cry

of the Ottoman hordes.

Wa-aah!

We're the Ottomans, and you're not!

You're in a world of it now, pal!

Oh, my. I'm afraid.

Sure, I'm scared.

E-everybody in Botswana's scared.

It looks like curtains.

This place is just screaming for drapes.

Don't worry about the

Ottomans. They're just wussies.

They're all talk.

I knew an Ottoman eagle scout.

He got a merit badge

in wholesale slaughter.

Aah!

Come on, Ottomans! Take a piece of me!

What we need... is the high ground.

The high ground is

no good without trees.

Friends, Romans, Botswanians,

lend me your tree.

There ain't no trees in Botswana.

Unh-unh. I know.

I am a Botswanian lumberjack,

and I ain't never had a job.

We need dress shields.

You need the high ground

to keep away from us

'cause... 'Cause we're the Ottomans!

Aah!

Ernest, I know! I

know! What we need is...

a treehouse!

I thought we needed dress shields.

Ernest!

Direct hit. Way to go, Ernest.

Do you smell fish?

The first step in

treehouse construction,

which I'll refer to as "step one,"

is tree selection.

With the right tree,

we can build an impregnant fortress

armed with nuclear rays,

disintegrator beams,

and all the latest electronic technology

to afford us a safe haven

against advancing hordes

as well as offering truly

elegant country living

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