Bubba Ho-Tep Page #7

His mummy was flown or carried

by the train from state to state.

- When it got to Texas, it was stolen.

- Stolen?

Evidence points to it being stolen

by a couple of guys in a silver bus.

Bus? Hey, I've seen that.

The thieves broke into the museum,

stole it in hopes of a ransom,

when in comes the worst storm

in east Texas history.

Let me guess.

The bus was washed away. I think

I saw it today. It was back in the creek.

The mummy was imprisoned by the debris.

How did it come back to life, man?

How did I end up inside its memories?

Speculation broadens here,

but some mummies get buried

without their names,

a curse on their sarcophagus.

Hey, now. Maybe our boy's one of them.

When he's in the coffin,

he's just a dried-up old corpse.

But when the bus got washed away,

maybe it broke open or something

and now he's free of coffin and curse, man.

He's free from imprisonment,

but he still needs souls.

And now he's free to have them.

He can just keep on feeding

unless he's finally destroyed.

So what do we do, Jack?

Changing rest-homes might be

a good idea. I can't think of much else.

But I will say this.

Our mummy

is a night-time kind of guy,

so I'm gonna go and sleep now.

Set my alarm for just before dark,

then get myseIf a few cups of coffee.

Damn straight!

I don't want him slapping his lips

on my a**hole.

Yes. Consider it.

He's got the proverbial

birds' nest on the ground here.

'What do I really have left in life

but this place?

'It ain't much of a home,

'but it's all I got.'

Well, goddamn it.

I'll be damned if I let

some boring graffiti-writing,

soul-sucking son of a b*tch

in an oversize cowboy hat and boots

take my friends' souls

and sh*t 'em down the visitors' toilet!

'In the movies

I always played heroic types,

'but when the stage lights went out,

it was time for drugs and stupidity

'and the coveting of women.

'Now it's time. Time to be a little

of what I'd always fantasised being.

'A hero.'

Hello.

Mr Kennedy? Ask not

what your rest-home can do for you...

ask what you can do

for your rest-home.

Hey, you're copying my best lines.

And let me paraphrase one of my own.

"Let's take care of business."

Just what are you getting at, Elvis?

You know what I'm getting at, Mr President.

We're gonna kill us a mummy.

Two bottles of rubbing alcohol.

Check.

Don't even have to toss 'em. Look here.

Found this in the storage room.

- I thought they kept it locked.

- They do.

- I stole a hairpin and picked the lock, baby.

- Great.

Matches.

Check. I even scrounged up

a cigarette lighter.

Good. Uniform.

Big check on that, baby.

Well...

I got a nice pair of shoes

to go with this.

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