The Real Ghostbusters

And me. And me.

Like cool, man.

Dig it.

It's my kinda joint.

Oh, just for that Spud, you answer the phone.

Yeah, I'll answer the phone.

Ghostbusters.

Se habla espanol!

Well, what did they say?

Big trouble at the Big Greaser.

and...uh-oh.

Winston, whoa, whoa, whoa.

What's the problem, Peter?

What do you think's the problem?

I can't bag spooks on an empty stomach.

Uh, two large fries and one chocolato shake.

A big shake.

How about a diet apple turnover to go with that?

Hose that slime ball.

Oh, fun.

Come on out, you carbo-loading larva.

News flash, slick.

The fabulous fifties are over.

Run 'em up and bring 'em home, Stumpy.

One toasted turnover to go.

Very precise shooting, fellows.

Oh, can we go now?

I don't feel so good.

Oh, poor Peter.

Hold it.

Hey, what's up, Louis?

Oh, uh, I just had to go to the bathroom.

Wearing a Proton Pack?

Well, bathrooms can be very dangerous.

Is something wrong with Peter?

No, Louis, this is my night job.

Entertaining people in my pyjamas.

Well, I'll bet it's all that fast food he eats.

Hey, pal, I don't just eat fast food, OK.

Ha-ha. Gee, how'd that stuff get under there?

Oh, boy!

No, ah.

No, no.

Oh, boy.

Hey, my chips.

My health food chips.

I didn't know you liked health food.

Oh, I never touch this stuff.

But the price was right.

See? Living proof that I just don't eat fast food.

OK, who turned on the heat?

I feel like a boiled egg.

Hmm. We better take your temperature.

Look at that.

Oh, that's hot.

Oh, I feel so light-headed.

Hey, quit. Don't let him go.

Hold on to him.

We better call a doctor.

Or an air traffic controller.

Well, don't worry.

I know a doctor who makes house calls.

Coming. Coming.

Good evening. I am Dr. McCatheter.

Guys, help. Weird dude.

Good evening, gentlemen.

I believe you called.

Dr. McCatheter.

Thanks for coming.

Where is the patient?

Right over there, Doc.

Peter Venkman.

What do you think's wrong with him, Doc?

I'll know more after I run some tests.

Relax, Mr. Venkman.

Whoa.

Hey. Hey, whats going on?

Come on, that tickles.

Wow.

Mr. Venkman, I'm afraid you're a very sick man.

Well, sure I'm sick.

It's the first game of Tic-Tac-Toe I've ever lost.

What's your specific diagnosis, Doctor?

I believe he's developed a serious allergy.

To ghosts.

You're kidding, right?

I'm afraid not.

His condition will worsen unless

he gets out of the ghostbusting business immediately.

What?

No way. What'll I do?

Come on, ghost busting is my life.

I want a second opinion.

A second opinion is definitely in order.

Oh, poor Peter.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Hey, que pasa?

Somebody do something.

See, the proximity of that creature

inflamed the symptoms.

Mr. Venkman, you must move out of this building.

Away from anything having to do with

ghosts.

For how long?

Possibly forever.

Louis, make sure the others keep up their strength

by eating plenty of my special health chips.

It would be tragic if all the Ghostbusters became allergic to ghosts.

I'll send more of these free samples over right away.

Oh, yes, sir. You're the doctor.

Yes, I'm the doctor.

Oh, Janine.

Slimer, what's wrong?

Morning, Janine. It's Peter.

What's the matter with Peter? Is he sick?

Worse. He's allergic to ghosts.

The doctor says Peter has to quit ghost busting

and move out of the fire house.

Oh, that's terrible.

Slimer. Where's he going to stay?

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

Not my apartment.

Poor Peter.

Who's going to tell him?

Oh, not me.

I couldn't stand to see that much pain.

There's a shelter for wayward men over on 83rd.

Maybe they'll take him.

Hold it!

OK. He can stay at my place.

But, only for a little while.

Ah, Janine.

You're a good girl.

Ah, yuck.

No, I'm a sucker.

How is it?

He's almost, dare I say, normal.

How are you feeling, Pete?

Not bad. If you don't compare me to the living.

I know that doctor was a little strange

but he sure called this one.

Perhaps.

But I still don't trust him.

Things sure aren't the same around here without Peter.

Yeah.

I'm gonna miss him.

Poor Peter.

Don't worry, Spud.

Somehow we'll get Peter back.

More chips guys?

Mmm, no, thank you.

Why do we get these chips anyway, Louis?

They're the worst.

But for some reason, I can't stop eating them.

They're from Dr. McCatheter.

He said they'll keep you from catching Peter's allergy.

Tell me, Louis. How long have you known this doctor?

Oh, gee, at least

two days.

Two days?

Well, yeah.

He came by Thursday and introduced himself.

He said he was opening up a new office in the neighborhood.

Gave me his card and a free bag of these health chips.

Of course, Peter ate them all.

That's it.

These chips are the cause of Peter's so called allergy.