04x12 - The Haunt for Dread October

[bunniefuu]

[♪ Spooky Theremin plays ]

Hey, Hank and Wanda

are coming over to my place tonight

to watch scary movies.

You should come too.

Watching scary movies on Halloween.

That's a bit "on the nose," isn't it?

Not really.

Watching the movie "Halloween" on Halloween,

while wearing a pointy witch's hat

and a goalie mask,

on Friday the 13th,

that's too much.

Not sure how October 31st
falls on Friday the 13th,

but yeah, I'll come over.

Brent, I need to buy some insurance.

Okie doke, that'll be $20.

You sell insurance?

Yeah, Halloween insurance.

It's my own invention.

If someone eggs or TPs

or otherwise vandalizes your property,

I get it cleaned up, no questions asked.

I usually take in

about 500 or 600 bucks every year.

Pretty ingenious, right?

It is.

You know, technically,

you're turning tricks
for money on Halloween.

Had to go and make it filthy.

Okay, jackass,

sell me some of your stupid rip-off

Halloween insurance.

Really?

You've never bought
insurance from me before.

All righty, then. That'll be 60 bucks.

60?!

It's supposed to be 20!

20 for regular folks,

who don't spend the entire calendar year

pissing people off.

You're a high risk,

so I need to charge a higher premium.

That's not fair!

If it helps, you can think of it

as a "crusty crank karma clause."

How would that help?

♪ You think there's not a lot goin' on ♪

[♪ spooky Theremin plays ]

♪ Look closer, baby you're so wrong ♪

[♪♪♪]

Ta-da!

Behold my masterpiece!

I behold,

and what is it?

Seriously?

This is a pitch-perfect replica

of Dr. Armordillo's costume.

I spent months hand-crafting it.

I see,

and who is Mr. Armordillo?

Dr. Armordillo.

He's only my favourite comic book superhero,

who didn't spend eight years
in medical school

to have some rookie cop call him "Mister."

I've never heard
of your obscure nerd heroes.

You never heard of Spider-Man

until Tobey Maguire.

I never heard of Tobey Maguire
until Spider-Man.

Touché.

I can't wait to put this on

and patrol the town
as a real live superhero.

I don't think it's fair

that every year you patrol
in a fun Halloween costume,

but I have to stay in uniform.

It's not my fault regulations dictate

one officer must remain in standard uniform,

and this costume took me months to build.

Custom airbrushed panels,

interlocking canvas straps,

hinged faceplate.

I thought of everything!
[chuckling gleefully]

[wailing] Oh no!

Did you think to measure yourself?

How could I be so stupid?

Now no one will appreciate my artistry.

I appreciate the irony.

All that work,

and your scales aren't to scale?

Wait.

You know who this might fit?

I hate you.

[♪♪♪]

[doorbell ringing]

Hi! Sorry, am I late?

Nope, right on time.

Hey, Hank. Hey, Wanda.

[yelping]

Geez, you scared me.

I didn't know we were
supposed to wear costumes.

We're not.

Hank dresses up every year as Frankenstein.

Hank-enstein.

Technically, Hankenstein's monster,

but yeah, yeah, I'm not hung up on that.

What are you,

some kind of serial k*ller?

This isn't a costume.

My pressure cooker popped
while I was making ravioli.

Hell of a mess.

And you just decided not to change?

We're watching movies,

not having crumpets with Dame Edna.

Here's the Kn*fe I borrowed.

[disembodied shriek]

Ooh, spooky.

Are you playing one of those
sound effect recordings?

Actually, no.

I'm not sure what that is.

It's been happening for the past three days.

And you haven't looked into it?

Screams and such aren't that surprising

in this house.

Yeah, it's got a creepy history.

History? What history?

Hey, who wants a drink?

[♪♪♪]

I have to go to the bathroom.

If any trick-or-treaters come to the door,

you have to dole out the candy.

And be nice!

I'm always nice!

[doorbell rings]

Robot and a werewolf?

That makes no sense.

They're natural enemies.

If you're going out together,
you should be a team.

[slam]

I don't even know

what the hell you're supposed to be.

Fail!

You get one piece.

[slam]

Hippie.

How old are you, 16?

And you're not even wearing costumes,

unless you're going as a pack of jackasses.

[slam]

I said be nice!

I'm not giving candy

to a bunch of 16-year-old punks.

You pissed off teenagers?

On Halloween?

Why don't you just paint
"Please egg our house"

on the door?

We're in for it now.

Way to go, Oscar.

I was nice to the bug-eyed thing.

[♪♪♪]

[grunting stiffly]

This is ridiculous.

I can barely move.

Dr. Armordillo built his suit for battle,

not comfort.

His armor even curls into a protective ball,

like a real armadillo.

The guy's a genius.

A genius would've built
a costume that breathes.

[grunting and screaming in distress]

I can't take it!

I want out!

No!

I worked too hard

for this costume not to get shown off!

Look, look, I'll make you a deal.

Wear this costume this year,

and next year I'll patrol in uniform,

and you can dress up as anything you want.

Anything?

Hmm... okay.

What will I go as?

Well, something slutty, for sure,

but what?

Hmm...

What to slut?

I'm uncomfortable with that word.

Feels sexist,

but you've got all year to figure that out.

Hop in, and let's roll.

[grunting stiffly]

This stupid costume

doesn't bend at the waist.

I can't sit down.

Huh...

Must've forgot a few canvas hinges.

[♪♪♪]

Hey, quick question.

What history are they talking about?

Oh, that history is all bunkum,

and/or hogwash.

It's bunkwash.

Hmm, the fact

that you're using made-up words
to discount it

makes me wonder if it is.

It's nothing.

It's just gossip and fiddle-faddle.

It's gossy-foddle.

Well, let's give Lacey the lowdown,

and let her judge for herself.

Shall we?

We shall.

This house,

the one we're in right now,

was built by George and Julie Aberdeen.

They lived here for years,

but in their retirement,

they took in a renter...

[Wanda] They rented a room

to a man who had just moved to town.

A butcher,

looking for work.

Lotta folks say

there was something odd about that man,

and maybe there was...

[Hank] ...because soon after he moved in,

the Aberdeens went missing.

Butcher said they had gone on vacation,

a cruise...

[Wanda] ...but folks were suspicious,

because George and Julie
were always short on money.

Rumours began to swirl

that Butcher had locked them
in the basement crawlspace,

where they starved to death.

[Hank] Some say there are fingernail marks

on the crawlspace door,

where they scratched in vain

to get out.

Okay, well, Happy Halloween,

and here's me leaving.

They're just trying to scare you.

It's all a bunch of hinkus dinkus

and malarkey.

Wow, you have a lot of grampa words

to discredit stuff.

Hooey!

No one was ever locked

in the crawlspace,

and I'll prove it.

We'll all go down and have a look,

and we will see exactly zero scratch marks.

Awesome!

Cool!

Yeah, let's go to the basement,

because that's never
how a horror movie starts.

[♪♪♪]

Well, it took a bit of ingenuity,

but we got it figured out.

[grunting]

Telling me to walk beside the car

doesn't take a lot of ingenuity.

Well, you didn't come up with it.

You really think those teenagers

are going to att*ck our house?

How would I know?

But definitely.

[panting] Rotten, no good...

Relax.

At the end of the day,

you got Halloween insurance,

so whatever happens, Brent will clean it up.

Sure.

But we should still keep a look-out.

Not fair for Brent
to have to do a buncha work

because of some stupid kids.

It's not like you to care about your son.

How dare you?!

My dear boy and I have an unshakeable bond

that could never be...

You didn't buy insurance, did you?

That jerk was ripping me off

with his higher premiums

and crusty karma,

and I wasn't gonna let him screw me over!

Well, isn't that great?

So now a g*ng of teenagers
will screw us instead.

You're hopeless,

and we're hooped.

I got a bad feeling about this.

[disembodied shriek]

[Hank, Wanda, and Lacey scream]

Jeez, relax.

Look, the lights are still on upstairs.

It's probably just a fuse.

A shrieking fuse?

Look, the ghost clearly
doesn't want us to be here.

Say what you want about ghosts,

but they give people plenty of warning

to get out.

Sometimes

they even say, "Get out!"

This will only take a second,

and then we can head back up.

[they gasp in horror]

Why are you gasping?

There's clearly no scratch marks.

I just assumed there would be,

but you're right, it's all smooth.

Wait...

The colour of the door is different

than the inside of the crawlspace.

The inside of the door was repainted!

And those hinges look new, too.

[all gasping in horror]

- [doorbell rings]
- [all screaming in panic]

Who's that?

Oh, it's probably trick-or-treaters.

[♪♪♪]

Okay, I checked the basement windows,

and we're all locked up.

So far, so good.

Think again.

They soaped our living room windows?

You know this is all your fault.

I know, I know!

I'll get the flashlights.

Nothing else is happening to this house!

Trick or treat!

This has all the elements of a horror movie,

and you're just blindly ignoring it.

Which is also an element
of every horror movie.

Exactly.

It happens in movies.

Wanda, there's gotta be
some logical, rational,

sciency explanation for all this, right?

I read that hauntings may be manifestations

of negative energies

trapped in a physical space.

And this is the part where the quirky nerd

explains how we all get m*rder*d.

"Cute" quirky nerd?

So the negative energies of the Aberdeens

are forever trapped in your crawlspace.

That proves it!

Proves what?

That someone painted a door?

Can we just put all this creepy psycho stuff

behind us

and go watch "Montana m*rder Ranch"?

[doorbell rings]

Okay, we're here.

What's the emergency?

We didn't call the cops.

Maybe you didn't.

What took you so long?

And where's Karen?

Karen is, uh...

bringing up the rear.

[grunting awkwardly]

Who are you supposed to be?

Professor Possum, or Admiral Aardvark.

You ever heard of him?

Exactly.

You ever hear of Spider-Man?

Of course.

Yeah, well... still.

[grunting awkwardly]

I pissed off some Halloweeners,

and now they're out for blood.

I want police protection.

Protection?

What are a few kids gonna do?

It wasn't little kids.

It was teenagers.

You pissed off teenagers?

Oh, no.

They're the worst kind of 'agers.

I know.

They've already soaped our windows.

God only knows what they'll do next.

I'll radio Karen

to secure the perimeter.

You two, stay sharp.

I'll go look for teenagers

with soapy hands.

[♪♪♪]

Now, if you don't want
"Montana m*rder Ranch,"

there's also "Texas Bloodbath Blitz,"

"The Lone Star Slaughter,"

or "Terror on Tumbleweed Trail."

Boy, we've got a real
western theme going here.

What I want to know is,

who owned this house

after the Aberdeens' demise?

That's the thing.

After the Aberdeens d*ed in the basement,

the Butcher conveniently produced a document

that transferred the title to him.

Nobody d*ed

or demised in my basement.

In the months that followed,

more people from town went missing.

Okay, you're freaking me out.

That's 'cause she's bottom-lit

by her phone.

Oh, it's a notification.

Hot Singles in My Area.

[chuckling] Talk about fake news.

Anyway...

Rumours started to swirl

about there being a locked freezer

in the garage.

There's nothing wrong with a locked freezer.

Meat is valuable.

Is it so hard to believe
people might steal steaks?

Or that people might become steaks!

Anyway,

one day,

the police went to confront the Butcher,

but he'd left town,

and...

he took his freezer with him.

Full of human steaks?

Some say there's still
a blood stain on the floor

where the freezer used to be.

Who are these "some people"

who say all these things?

Some say they were residents of the town.

Okay.

[owl hoots softly]

[twig snaps]

[creature snarls]

Who's there?

Stupid piece of junk!

Ah, finally.

[yelping]

[screaming]

Emma!

There's a demon in the garden!

What the...

Karen, you're supposed to be
at Oscar and Emma's,

but you're trick or treating?

Look, I get that you're angry,

but acting out like this?

Pretty unprofessional.

[cell phone rings]

DRPD.

[Oscar] Davis!

The teen demons are here!

There's children in the corn!

[beeps off phone] Teens are attacking.

We gotta go.

Fine, I'll carry you.

[grunting]

[♪♪♪]

Have a look for yourselves.

There are no stains on the floor.

There's a stain.

Okay, that's oil.

There's a stain.

That one's anti-freeze,

and that one over there is mustard.

Sometimes I barbecue hot dogs
in here in the winter.

Huh.

There isn't a single cr*ck.

Highly irregular for concrete from the '50s,

wouldn't you say?

What are you, a concrete maven?

When concrete is poured,

the company often presses
a date stamp into it.

A-ha!

1985.

So it is new.

Nice try, floor,

you lying slab of stains!

- [doorbell rings]
- [they all scream]

How many kids are in this town?

A demon teen?

You have to be more specific.

That could be any one of them.

It had claws

and beady red eyes, and...

And it was me.

Karen?

You're supposed to be over there.

Wait, if you're Karen,

then...

My name's Kenny.

Two Dr. Armordillos?

See, Karen?

I told you he was popular.

Can we get back

to the pimply t*rrorists

who are trying to destroy my house?

[cell phone rings]

DRPD.

Uh-huh.

Missing child...

Uh-oh.

Dressed like a scaly rat dentist.

He's a doctor.

Got it.

We'll keep a look-out.

Kenny, this was a test

to see if you'd trust strangers,

and you failed miserably.

Leave the candy and run along.

Oh, look.

His knees can bend.

Be that as it may,

it's been a good night.

We found a lost kid,

scored some candy,

and prevented more vandalism.

Not so fast.

[Emma] Well, thank god
we have Halloween insurance.

Oh, right...

we don't.

[♪♪♪]

That is a lot of toilet paper.

Two ply.

[tasting]

High-grade stuff.

Davis, take señor rat

and go arrest every teenager in town.

If you arrest the teens,

you just make them more angry.

Look, the longer we stand here,

the more time

the rest of the house is exposed.

Everyone, take a side and protect it.

[walls and floors creaking]

[distant thud]

Look, it doesn't take science

to know that Brent's house is being haunted

by the ghosts of the Aberdeens.

[Brent] Wrong.

I googled their obituaries.

They d*ed on a Mediterranean cruise.

That's tragic,

but for my purposes here...

A-ha!

Then your house is being haunted by...

the Butcher.

How is he haunting me?

It's the Aberdeens that d*ed,

and it doesn't help

that you keep calling him "The Butcher."

He's got a name. It's Murray.

Here we go. I found him.

Murray Butcher.

He moved to Stonewood.

Opened Butcher's Butcher Shop.

Okay, that's on the nose.

He ran it for 20 years,

then retired.

End of story.

And then he d*ed.

Oh.

Three days ago.

How long did you say

your house was making weird noises?

I can't remember.

You said it was three...

It was three days.

Ouch!

Hey!

Sorry about that.

Thought you were a teen.

Got a little trigger-happy.

It's too dark to find rocks to throw.

Anything going on here?

Nothing.

All is quiet.

Almost... too quiet.

Nope.

Just about the right amount.

[Karen, over radio] Davis, are you there?

Roger.

Sorry, Roger, can I talk to Davis?

[cackling] I love that gag.

I hate that gag.

You see anything?

I saw something,

and I caught something.

[suspenseful music flourish]

[disembodied shriek]

Okay, so

I think that now we can all agree

there is a ghost in Brent's house.

I emphatically disagree.

Brent's right.

It could very well be

some other evil, undead entity.

We should cover all our bases.

Get some holy water, garlic, wooden stakes.

What if it's a werewolf?

Oh, good point.

Lacey, go melt your earrings.

Wanda, go find Brent's b*llet-maker.

We don't necessarily

have to fight this thing.

We could try reasoning with it.

Brent, where's your Ouija board?

It's in the cloakroom

with my crossbow and crystals.

This is no time to make jokes.

The one who makes jokes

usually dies first.

I thought it was the virgin.

Any last words, Hank?

Uh...

maybe we could conjure up a bigger ghost

to punch this one out.

Lacey, hop on the Ouija

and dial up Andre The Giant.

Everyone take a breath
and come back to Earth.

We're here to have some fun

and watch a movie,

so let's do that.

Here's one.

"The Basement Butcher of Bog Hollow."

It's very thematic.

Can't do it.

- Nope.
- I'm out.

[♪♪♪]

Those little bastards egged the house!

Karen, where are the perps?

The perps are right here.

Emma's the one

who's been trashing the house.

The metal in that costume
has leaked into her brain.

It's fiberglass.

Each piece lovingly hand-crafted.

I got suspicious

because she always seemed to be missing

from the group

when the vandals struck...

[Karen] So, when she
told everyone to spread out,

I kept my eye on her.

I found a button on the costume

that helped me go undercover.

[muffled yelp]

[Karen] Sort of.

Anyway, that's when I saw Emma throwing eggs

at her own house!

Fine, I admit it.

I would've gotten away with it, too,

if it wasn't for this masked meddler!

Usually the one in the mask
gets caught by meddling...

Well, you've all seen Scooby-Doo,

you know how it plays out.

You've been on me all night

about not getting insurance,

and then you go and vandalize our own home?

Why?

Because I bought Halloween insurance.

I knew you would be too cheap,

so I bought it myself,

and since we were covered,

I took the opportunity to mess with you

and pretend teens were attacking the house.

So Brent has to clean this up after all?

[chuckling] Well...

let's make it good and messy, then!

[laughing gleefully]

H'yah!

[cackling]

[eggs splatting]

[laughing]

[rowdy cheering]

Bye!

Have a terrific evening!

I'll stay here alone
with the crazy k*ller ghost

that I'm not afraid of!

[snarling shriek nearby]

[screaming in terror]

Y-you guys, wait!

[chittering]

[snarling shriek]

Takes a shocking and keeps on gnawing.

Well, I guess the mystery is solved.

Yep.

The raccoons are possessed

by the ghost of Murray Butcher.

I can't believe you're scared of raccoons.

Cute, furry little...

[snarling shriek]

[all screaming in panic]

[♪♪♪]

[♪♪♪]

What a mess.

Geez, I was right

when I said you were a high-risk case.

You better get busy.

There's lots to clean up.

Yep. We'll get on it right away.

"We'll" get on it?

I always subcontract
the cleaning to teenagers.

Cheap labour, and I pocket the difference.

[grumbling] I hate kids.

Especially our own.

[♪♪♪]

♪ I don't know

♪ The same things you don't know ♪

♪ I don't know

♪ I just... don't know

♪ Ooh...

♪ It's a great big place

♪ Ooh...

♪ Full of nothin' but space

♪ Ooh...

♪ And it's my happy place

♪ I don't know ♪