Beyond the Dunwich Horror

(diver breathing heavily)

(rain pattering)

(dark chattering)

(thunder crackling)

So what's goin' on?

Where's my brother?

Sorry?

Listen, nobody's telling me anything.

Sir, you are going to have to wait

for Dr. Halsey to arrive.

I have no clue-

Dr. Mender to the mental ward please.

Dr. Mender.

Just one moment.

You must be Andrew Crawford's brother, Kenneth.

I'm Dr. Halsey and this is my assistant.

Can somebody please tell me

why my brother's in this loony bin?

We prefer the term psychiatric rehabilitation center.

Oh, really?

Could somebody please tell me

why my brother's in this whatever you call it?

Your brother was found on north beach two weeks ago.

When we found him-

Two weeks?

And you're just getting around to contacting me now?

Will you please come with us, Mr. Crawford?

Dr. Ross dial 102 please.

Dr. Ross please dial 118.

Jesus Christ.

When your brother came to, it was out of control.

He kept screaming about monsters trying to kill him.

I believe he actually called them demons.

Not monsters, per se.

Indeed, yes.

He attacked two nurses while trying to escape the hospital.

They'll be fine.

But everyone thought it would be

in your brother's best interests

to get professional attention.

Who is this everyone?

Look, I'm not only his brother.

I'm his only living relative within 200 miles.

Nobody thought to pick up a phone and call me?

Let's see here.

Kenneth Howard Crawford born September 26, 1976,

didn't complete high school,

arrested for heroin possession in 2001,

spent two years in Walpole State Prison,

released after the death

of both of his parents in a car crash.

In 2003, it seems you spent some time yourself

in a loony bin when you tried to kill yourself

by jumping off a bridge.

Now we all felt it was in your brother's best interest

if we handled this matter ourselves.

The only reason you were even called

is to see if you could answer some questions

about your brother's activities before his-

Accident.

Yes.

We can go into my office.

It's more comfortable there.

You know, fuck you all.

Next time you see me will be with a court order

to get my brother out of this nuthouse.

(water lapping)

Andrew.

Andrew.

Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.

Andrew.

Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.

Andrew.

(pencil scribbling)

Why don't you just talk to her,

write her a letter or something?

Who writes letters anymore?

It's been years

since I've courted anyone, young man.

I think it was somewhere between the Bronze and Iron Age.

Yes, great beasts still walked the earth.

You're not that old, Margo.

Old enough, kiddo.

Now be a helpful boy

and hand me that copy of "The Great Gatsby".

What are we doing with all these books?

Oh, we're packing them up to put them in storage.

Why?

Progress.

You see, they're getting rid of all the classics

to make room for the CDs, DVDs, MP3s

and other bits of Alphabet Soup.

But enough ancient history.

Back to your girl problems.

I know it sounds lame.

I just can't stop thinking about her.

I feel like a big asshole.

Pardon my French.

Just ask her out on a date.

A date?

Yes, just pick up the phone and call her.

No.

No, I'm gonna email her because calling is just personal.

Excuse me.

I'm going to go find the nearest tar pit.

By the way, what is all of this?

All?

That's my goatee.

Oh.

It reminds me of a New Orleans pimp.

(knife stabbing)

Goddammit, Philip.

We've been waiting for your friends over an hour.

I am so not missing this party tonight.

Let's go!

Sweet, they'll be here in five minutes.

You've been drinking too much.

I know my limit, shit-for-brains!

Get in the car.

It's over between us.

Yes, munchkin.

(people chattering)

Hey there.

I saw you lookin' at me.

Actually just lookin' for a bartender.

Oh?

So do you wanna get outta here?

This place is kinda depressing.

Jesus.

My dreams aren't even this easy.

What are you, a hooker?

Do I look like a hooker?

Not necessarily.

I just figured a non-hooker would be offended

by being called a hooker

and then I'd realize this was actually happening.

I could find an ATM and we could get this party started.

That's quite a plan you got there.

Unfortunately, even a hooker would be offended

by being called a hooker.

Okay.

What do they like to be called then?

I don't know.

Monetarily sexual.

Why are you hitting on me?

I think you're cute.

You think I'm cute.

I'm a fuckin' wreck.

You're a lot better off than the other guys here.

Okay, well why don't you go elsewhere?

'Cause I'm ready to go home.

I don't care if you're all backed up right now.

I've been waiting for a goddamn tow for over an hour.

You know, tonight is my birthday party.

No one seems to care or notice,

but it's pretty important to me.

So why don't you take your hillbilly little ass

and get in your hillbilly truck

and drive all the way down here

and fix this piece of shit if you know what's good for you?

Why don't you just calm down?

Fuck you, Philip.

No, not fuck you.

Fuck my spineless cum rag of a boyfriend.

But you know what?

While you're at it, why don't you go fuck yourself too?

The motherfucker hung up on me!

Can't imagine why.

Where are you going?

You know,

I don't know why everyone's being such a fucktard tonight,

but I'm going to my birthday party

if it's the last thing I do.

Are you crazy?

It's a two-hour walk from here.

It's pitch black.

Let's see if we can get some tunes goin' in here.

Oh honey, I got the car started.

Honey?

(creatures chittering)

Hello?

Can any of you shitkickers tell me

where to find the main road?

Hello?

(crickets chirping)

(Nikki gasping)