The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 Page #3

No, don't you call back.

I got a business here,

and Fletcher ain't none of my business.

Damn!

What can I do you for?

Well, don't you wanna test them?

There's gas in them.

Get them suckers a time or two.

Oh, my kid banana.

Damn, what is he doing?

Now, this is very hard to believe.

I'd like you to play that tape, missy.

Come all the way up here to Burkburnett.

No sh*t!

Yeah.

Oh, you wanna hear it now.

I wanna hear it on the radio.

On your show.

Uh-uh.

I don't think it'd be legal to do that.

FCC regulations, those things.

Well, you just figure out how to do it

and do it.

You bend the rules. I don't know.

-Why?

-Because the killers are here.

Kill sites have been clustered all over

Northeast Texas the last two years.

The laws, they shy away

from piecing it together as murder.

They call it accidents, disappearances.

You got that last slaughter on tape.

You play it on the radio.

Maybe then, the laws will stop trying

to shut me up and start helping me.

Besides, it'll give you

something real to do.

You said you were gonna do this alone.

I need your help, missy.

Well,

you can call me Stretch, Mr. Enright.

Well, now, you can call me Lefty.

It's mighty nice doing business with you.

-Thanks.

-All right.

You have a nice day, now.

You, too.

Number one again!

Drayton did it again. Number one.

Number one!

The Sawyers are number one!

Number one.

So here's a special request

we're doing this afternoon and tonight.

You steady listeners know

we're playing this every hour.

This is for Lefty.

Hog f***er! Son of a b*tch!

Last Round-up Rolling Grill.

We're still number one.

I told you, boys, and I told you.

Don't call on this phone.

Now, damn it, get off.

What? What's on the radio?

Now, don't bullshit me. I can't...

I won't... All right, what station?

This ain't no joke, boy?

Then I'm tuning it in.

Hog f***er! Son of a b*tch!

You two nap-haired idiots.

You've done it again!

You coon shits! You fudge-packers!

You'll be the death of me yet!

Missed us, a**holes.

K-OKLA.

Come on, Lefty. Where are you?

This concludes the broadcast day

for K-OKLA in Burkburnett, Texas,

Red River Rock 'n' Roll.

In New York, it's 1:00 a.m.,

still fun city.

In LA, 10:
00 at night, party time.

But deep in the heart of Texas,

it's 12:
00 midnight.

Ain't nothing going on.

It's another cussing caller.

Your little ass is gonna be

in big trouble over that tape, girl.

Nope.

Sure got a lot of complaints, darling.

L.G., it was a request, right?

It's listed in the logs as a request.

People complain

about the request every night, right?

Uh-huh.

Wanna go for coffee at Big State?

Nope.

I guess you're waiting on this guy, Lefty?

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