Thundercrack!

The October storm,

caused by a double-barrel low-pressure system

in eastern Nebraska,

is the most intense so far of this winter season.

Travelers' warnings for flash flooding, high winds,

and severe thunderstorms. . .

Motorists are advised to take extreme caution,

as already the road conditions have become treacherous,

especially in those areas where the highways cross

or are near rivers or other major bodies of water.

I repeat, the Weather Bureau has issued travelers' warnings

for flash flooding, high winds, and severe thunderstorms.

The motorist is advised to take extreme caution

as road conditions have already. . .

Shut the hell up.

Goddamn puppet.

You're nothing but a puppet for the Weather Bureau.

And they pull the string that makes your mouth go up and down.

I'll bet you don't even know what the hell an isobar is.

And don't go telling me it's some kind of a popsicle.

'Cause it ain't!

I got schooling in me.

I'm no dummy.

Charlie saw to that.

Charlie didn't want no dummy for a wife.

And I didn't want no Charlie McCarthy for a husband either.

I wanted Charlie Hammond.

And I wanted to be Mrs. Gert Hammond.

Wife of Charlie.

Charlie's woman.

Forever.

Not just till they came.

Stinking windshield wipers don't make a damn of a difference.

I shouldn't be toting around mammals on a night like this.

Why the hell didn't that crummy circus give me

the amphibian cage?

Pipe down, Samson!

You might be king of the jungle in Africa,

but in this circus, you're nothing but a bozo.

Every time I see that trainer putting the hula hoops on you

and I see those kids screaming

with the Cracker Jacks flying out of their mouths

and the cotton candy sticking to their chins,

it makes me sick!

Sick, Samson!

Yeah, sick.

I want to puke on them.

God knows it wouldn't make any difference,

what with the mustard and ice cream

dripping down their fat little necks.

God, you can't even tell

between the freckles and the mashed popcorn.

- -No, Medusa.

I wasn't talking about you.

Gorillas are different from little children.

They have more hair.

Don't know what he's carrying,

but whatever they are, they sure are hungry.

I don't have to worry about hunger.

Of the stomach.

Just the other hunger.

The one more ravishing that I worry about.

But why worry?

Wasn't there something I read or heard in church,

something about birds.

Birds don't worry about eating,

and yet God provides plenty of food.

But I -- I'm not satisfied with just worms!

I need something more substantial.

Howdy, stranger.

No need to ask if you need a lift.

We all need one in this kind of weather.

The real question -- The $64,000 question is --

How high do you want to get?

What are you -- a junkie?

Only junk I carry is on my wrist.

And what do you have in those two crates?

Oh, it's just something I picked up

when I was hitchhiking from Tucson.

Well, you take your two crates and you take yourself

and you get yourself right into this car

before you drown in that rain.

Yes, ma'am. Right away.

Sash, pick up that lily-white butt

and go help with Mr. Stranger with his things.

And just give him a hand, you hear?

I was ordered to lend you a hand and nothing more.

Those were the orders from our general over there

with her junk-jewelry medals.

Why do you listen to her?

Why did you bring what I was told -- the lily-white butt --

out in this rain?

My butt's white from being so numb after two days of driving.

But it used to be red when we used to live in Tucson.

If only you could have seen it then.

Gee, ma'am, I ain't even seen the white one yet.

So quit jumping the gun.

Oh, you'll see it all right.

Just a matter of time.

- Sash!

And Ruta's whim.

Sash, honey, your skirt's soaked through to the skin.

so please take it off before sitting next to me.

Now, come on in, you two,

and Mister -- What's your name again?

Toydy. Toydy McNeil.

''Toydy''? Is that Brooklyn?

No. Why?

Well, in Brooklyn,

they say things like doydy and boydy and toydy.

I was educated in Brooklyn.

Brooklyn Community College.

It was quite a community of fatsos.

They really believed in letting it all hang out.

Hanging out of their shirt sleeves

and the collars of their suits

and their two-piece bathing suits.

You know, people see whales on the beach after a storm,

and they think that's something.

That's only because they've never been to Brighton Beach.

Well, I'm for letting it all hang out.

That's been my motto since I was 17.

I'm sure what you have to hang out

is well worth exposing to the light of day.

Or, for that matter, a 6-watt overhead lamp.

Care to surface your breathing snorkel?

Ruta, cut it out.

Turn off that light.

I've had enough of this filth.

Who was she telling you about back there?

Oh, nothing much. Something about Tucson.

About how she used to have a red butt?

Shut up, Ruta. That's it.

She said she had a red butt when she was in Arizona.

Ruta!

She didn't get it from lying in too much sun.

I can tell you that.

You want to know how she got it?

Shut up, Ruta. I'm warning you.

You want to know, stranger?

Yeah, well, I don't know. Sure.

Roo, you keep your mouth shut!

He wants to know, honey.

Shut up!

I'm not going to tell you till you let it all hang out.

Come on, now. Fair's fair.

I let you see her lily-white butt, didn't I?

Ooh, baby doll.

For that, I'd give you

the formula to the atomic bomb if I knew it.

Didn't you learn that stuff in Brooklyn Community College?

They taught us about atomic fission and fusion.

And I was all hot for fusion, baby.

Red hot like your friend's butt was?

You didn't tell him, Roo, did you?

I have to tell him now, Sash.

I can't leave him hanging in the air

when he's giving me what I want right in the palm of my hand.

You'll never live to tell him!

Never!

Hey, I saw something.

An explosion or something.

What? I don't know.

It was like a big ball of fire, like something exploded.

A gas tank or something.

You're very observant.

So are you.

I've been noticing

you scrutinizing me for a long time now.

What was it you were scrutinizing?

My nose?

Was there a piece of snot hanging from my nose?

No.

Well, I caught a cold, you know,

waiting out there in the rain until you picked me up.

I'm mighty grateful to you,

what, with all your sweet music

and your fancy-smelling pipe tobacco.

What's the matter? You don't like Tchaikovsky?

I'm not complaining, Chandler.

In fact, I said I'm mighty grateful.

-It's just that. . . -What, Bond?

Well, it's just. . .

My gazes? My admiring glances?

At your rather extravagant torso

put you ill at ease?

Well, no.

It's just that that's all you're doing is just looking.

You mean you were expecting me to do something else?

Me? Chandler Wilson?

Heir to the Wilson fortune?

And widower of Sarah Lou Phillips

from the House of Phillips Unlimited?

You mean the House of Phillips,

that big girdle manufacturing plant down in Waco?

Yes. That's exactly what I mean.

That big girdle factory in central Texas

where everything grows big,

especially a middle-age gut.

I'm scared of that.