Creepshow 2 Page #3

I'm better-looking

than the guy in that movie.

- Don't you think?

- (Pinball dings)

Here, take a look.

Take a look.

Uh-uh! Stay right where you are, old man.

Unless you wanna see your lady in pieces.

Sam.

There's no cash around here,

we got all the sh*t we need. Let's go.

Not yet, rich boy.

- Did you know my buddy here was rich?

- No.

Well, his old man's rich. His old man

bought my buddy here a Firebird.

A f***ing Firebird

that's gonna fly us all to Hollywood, USA.

And one more step and... bam!

Sam, there's nothing left for us to take.

There's nothing here we need.

Maybe there's nothing else you need,

rich boy.

But there's something else I need.

Go get your car, Cavanaugh.

Get your f***ing car, rich boy. We're leaving

for LA sooner than we figured.

Hey, Cavanaugh.

You run out on me and I'll find you.

I ain't running out on you, Sam.

I ain't running nowhere.

- We're all in this together.

- Yeah, I know that, Sam.

There's one more item you have to turn over

if you want this woman to live.

What is it?

That bag of rock candy

my uncle brought here today.

That's it in your hand, isn't it?

Toss it over here and I'll let the lady go.

Sam, what are you talking about?

What do you mean, rock candy?

There's $10,000 worth of silver and stone

in that bag, man.

- The keys to the city of Los Angeles.

- (Martha yelps)

- Is that true, old man? Let me see.

- Sam, you can't take this.

This belongs to your people, to the tribe.

- No! Stop it!

- These are treasures

your people have had for years.

- If you take them...

- Stop it!

(Gunshot)

(Fat Stuff) Holy God! Holy Jesus!

Martha?

Martha?

Let's go, Fat Stuff.

We got some money that needs spending.

Holy sh*t! Holy Jesus!

I've never seen nothing like that before.

Yeah.

Well, now you've seen it.

Now you're gonna forget it.

- Forget it?

- That's right, Fat Stuff.

Forget it.

We're going to Hollywood, Vince.

Hollywood?

You mean all of us? Me, too?

I wouldn't leave you behind, Fat Stuff.

Sh*t, man. I gotta have my slave with me

wherever I go.

Hollywood.

It's OK.

There's nobody around.

We're outta here.

We're outta here, Fat Stuff.

We're outta here, man.

We're outta here for good.

No more of this bullshit, man.

No more eatin' dust for a livin'.

There ain't no dust in Hollywood, man.

And there ain't no f***in' tribe of

tommin', wimpy-assed red men, neither.

(Howls)

- (Engine revving)

- Sam, come on, let's get outta here.

(Creaking)

We leave tonight.

What?

Yeah, whatever you say, Sam.

We all go home, round up

whatever sh*t we wanna take.

Rich boy, you pick me up at eleven.

Then we'll go get Fat Stuff.

How about it, Fat Stuff?

(Laughs nervously)

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