Bride of Chucky Page #5

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Love and kisses, Tiffany".

Cemetery?

Call me for your|lover's lover's alibi

- Call me |- Call me

On the line, call me|call me any, anytime

David, you remember|when you were seeing Brad Barker?

Oh! Vividly. Whoo!

You loved him, didn't you?

Yeah... I did.

What happened?

His mother found|a letter I'd written him.

She freaked,|and we haven't spoken since.

You know, Jade,

we get very few chances|in life to be happy.

You gotta grab the brass ring|when you can.

We don't have time|for this sh*t.

- Jade, I need to talk to you.|- Hey, Jesse.

- Hey, David.|- I want details.

Jesse, Warren will be home|any second. lf he catches you...

- You know I'll never|take you for granted.|- Jesse...

Like if you'd cook,|I'd do the dishes, right?

- What are you talking about?|- I'd do anything for you,|anything at all.

You know that, right?

- Right?

- Yes. Yes, I know.|- Then marry me.

- What?|- Marry me.

Tonight.

- Warren would kill us.|- I don't care about Warren.

- That's why we're gonna disappear.|- Where are we gonna go?

- Anywhere you want.|- Well, what are we gonna do for money?

I got money.

- Where did you get this?|- You know my neighbor, Tiffany?

She's paying me $500 to take a couple|of dolls to a friend of hers in Jersey.

Jade, there's another 500|when we get there.

Oh, sh*t, Jesse.|What has that freak gotten you into?

I don't know. I don't care.

I can put a deposit on an apartment.|I'll get a job.

I'll help put you|through college.

I think|I'm gonna throw up.

Jade, marry me.

What do you say?

I say I do.

- Come on. Let's get you packed.|- Okay.

Aw, that's so romantic.

I give them six months,|three if she gains weight.

It's me.

His van is parked right in front|of my house as we speak.

Who the hell is this bozo?|What's he doing?

Screwing with our ride,|that's what.

Ah, what the hell.|I need the exercise.

Were you born with that knife|super glued onto your hand, or what?

- What are you talking about?|- For God's sake, Chucky,|drag yourself into the '90s.

Stabbings went out|with Bundy and Dahmer.

You look like|Martha Stewart with that thing.

- Who the f*** is Martha Stewart?|- My idol.

And what does Martha tell you to do|when guests drop by for dinner...

and you haven't|had time to shop?

You improvise.

What about...

Predictable.

Hmm...

Uh...

Aha.

Who's there?

Ugh!

- Now!

Why does that look|so familiar?

See? Now, that's the work|of a true homicidal genius.

- Not bad, for an amateur.

Sh*t. Here they come.

- Yeah!

- What do we do with him?|- I don't know.

What would|Martha Stewart do?

Here.

- Come on. Help me.|- I am helping. He's heavy.

Wait.

Huh?

What's the matter?

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