What We Do in the Shadows

Business is

booming at the nightclub, baby!

Cheers.

That little tap-dancing freak that clawed

its way out of the abdominal cavity

of dead Colin Robinson

is causing such a buzz.

We are pulling in capacity crowds of vampires

and humans night after night.

The only real problem, apart from

the blood sprinklers clogging yet again,

is the fucking employees.

How many of our patrons have died

in wraith-related accidents in the last week alone?

- Five. - What? Five?!

But, you know, four of them were human.

Yeah, okay, that's not so bad then.

But still, what is going on with these wraiths?

Maybe they are having issues with how

they're being treated.

I gave them jobs. I'd say that's

- pretty bloody good treatment. - Yes, but you do

make them sleep in the supply closet.

Well, it is better than sleeping in the street.

You can remind them of that.

Maybe if you just listened to them

and heard them out... Their concerns, you know, and...

Hold it, hold it.

Are they intentionally under performing

in order to get their way?

You know, it does seem like they've organized

some sort of labor action.

- This I know how to handle. - Ah.

Kill them all.

Uh, I-I forgot the words, Lazlo.

What is this tomfoolery?

This is a rehearsal for you, not for me.

But, Lazzo, guess what?

- You're tired. - I'm tired.

I-I'm at a really good part of my book and I...

Not the fucking book again. Give it to me.

I-I don't have it.

Yes, you do, boy.

You've tucked it in the back of your trouser.

- Give it to me. - Fine.

Fairy tales? This is bullshit.

And highly inaccurate. "Little Red Riding Hood"?

You know, that's a tale about a gruesome,

unsolved child abduction.

That's not true. I don't believe you.

Really? You're an expert, are you?

What about this one, "Rumpelstiltskin"?

"Rumpled dick skin," more like.

You know that's how he got his name, this chap?

- Doesn't say that in the book. - What's "dick skin"?

What is dick skin? That's a bloody good question.

And not one that you should be asking.

Let's get on with the last song.

So you will be meeting with Xerxes.

Okay? He's the one that they've elected leader.

- Oh! - And here he is. May I present Xerxes.

Hello, X... rexes.

Xerxes, why don't you start?

He says, "Thank you for taking the time

to work through these issues."

Very good. Oh.

"We have a list of demands to be addressed."

- Fine. - "Number one."

"We require more than one break

"a day so that we may haunt

the descendants of our transgressors."

We would all like to have more time for our hobbies.

"Number two.

"We will not be blamed for all phantom smells at work.

"This is an old building with old pipes, and the smells

emanating therefrom are out of our control."

Okay! Enough!

I have given you and your weird faceless friends

a job and a lovely, warm supply closet to sleep in.

Without me, you would have nothing.

Goodbye. Gamísou.

I don't have time for this skatá.

Mm. "That went well."

Think that's supposed to be a joke.

Wraiths aren't really known for their sense of humor.

"'Twas upon the fourth year of the Nine Years' War

"that the battles of Barfleur and La Hogue

tested the will of His Majesty's fleet..."

Can we please read one of my books?

- Absolutely not. - Please?

Real books about real people

concerning real things that happened.

Oh, Laszlo, just read him some of that baby bullshit

- he likes so much. - Yeah, maybe the one

about the elves and the shoemaker.

All right. I'll tell you the real story.

Some third-rate cobbler ripped to the tits

on formaldehyde fumes used in his leather tanning process

imagines he's seeing little elves do all his work.

Loses his business, kills himself.

The end.

Aha! Yes!

This will do very nicely.

Everyone! We're going to the night market!

A night market actually exists in every single town.

But it is always hidden from the prying, pathetic eyes of humans.

The night market is a bit like

the famous Italian street fairs

of Little Italy.

Very diverse.

Lots of different cultures represented.

Sticky shit all over the ground.

And a good place to pillage or barter tchotchkes.

It is truly the only place where we can set aside our differences

and work towards a common goal:

To fuck the other guy before he fucks you!

It's just a work thing. I'll call you after. I love... Okay.

What do you require from the night market, my darling?

Oh, you know, just a special little something

to help try and solve my wraith labor problem.

Will it be safe for someone like me to go?

- Meaning as a human? - I don't care.

- Yeah, do not worry, Guillermo. - Hurry up.

If anyone asks, just say you're an orc or some shit.

Well, I don't look like an orc.

- Do I? - Mm.

You could pass.

I am very excited for this trip as well.

Even though we live in the same house,

it's so rare that Nandor asks me along

when he has an outing with his friends, so...

You know what? I changed my mind.

- Nice work. - I think I'd rather just stay home.

Oh, no. Marwa, this is a big fat bummer I am hearing.

But, okay, fine. I miss you already.

- Bye. - Come on.

Of course Marwa is my one true love.

But she's always hanging around.

Sometimes it's just more fun to hang with just the boys.

Yes. This is the one that goes to the night market.

- Come on. Come. - Come on, boy. - I'm going.

- Quickly, quickly. - Are you sure about this? This looks like

a regular train full of normal people.

How dare you question me.

Ah. Attention, ladies and gentlemen!

If I could just have a few moments of your time.

I'm trying to raise money for my Uncle Jeffrey.

He needs a new heart.

So please enjoy this performance

and know that anything you can give, anything,

will help.

Oh, wow.

Disgusting.

That is dynamite.

All right!

If you're still here, you know why you're here.

Next stop, the night market.

Told you. He was fantastic. Well done.

- Are you still doing requests? - Not for a couple hours.

- Ah. - Ooh. Looks pretty busy.

Okay. Everyone.

Come on, boy. Don't get lost.

- Come on. - Exciting.

Night market awaits.

Holy cow. Look at all of this.

This is pretty cool. Put that down. They're overpriced.

Darling, maybe it's time to get you a new coffin.

- No. - Put your kids in cages!

Witches.

Yes, how much for that one up there?

- You don't need any more cages. - Shh!

While it is progressive that the night market

is a safe space for all of demon kind,

sadly, we have no one form of currency between us all,

so we have to rely on the old ways.

Stinks. Oh.

AKA the bartering system.

Lots of people usually end up dead.

I say, do you have any historical books?

I do, sir.

Luckily, I come from a long line

of highly-skilled hagglers.

My giagiá, she once traded just a little bit

of her thigh meat for a whole bag of onions.

So, yeah, I think I know what I'm doing.

We're here.

Hey, girlfriends!

How's it hanging?

- Ja. - Ja.

Valkyries are a group of maidens

who were sent by the gods to the Viking battlefields

so they could choose who amongst the slain

they thought was worthy of a place in Valhalla.

They are, um, interesting folk.

Eh. They're quite...

They've got zero banter.

Absolutely no laughs whatsoever.

Okay.

Hold on to your huvudbonader, ladies,

because I don't think you'll find this little tasty piece