The Incredible Shrinking Man

The strange, almost unbelievable, story of Robert Scott Carey...

began on a very ordinary summer day.

I know this story better than anyone because I am Robert Scott Carey.

This is the way to spend a vacation.

I'm thirsty.

That sun feels good.

- I'm thirsty. - Interesting.

- A cold bottle of beer'd taste fine. - Why don't you get it?

Me?

- I'm on vacation. All week. - Well, so am I, my friend.

Louise?

- I think we should get married. - We've been married six years.

Really? Seems like six minutes.

I am not gonna get you that beer.

I provided the boat. You provide the beer.

- Your brother provided the boat. - I'll make you a deal.

What?

You get the beer, I'll get the dinner. How's that?

Okay. You got yourself a deal.

To the galley, wench. Fetch me a flagon of beer.

I'm sorry, Captain, but we're out of flagons. It'll have to be a can.

Out of flagons? In the name of Heaven's, woman, how are we to make the Philippines?

We're not going, sir. We're going home at the end of the week.

Mutiny.

- Make 'em cold! - Like ice.

- Scott, what was that? - I don't know. Some kind of mist.

Look at your chest.

But then, on an equally ordinary day, six months later.

- Morning, Joe. - Morning, Mrs. Carey.

- Looks like a nice day, huh? - See you tomorrow.

Here, kitty-kitty-kitty. Here, kitty-kitty-kitty. Come on, Butch.

That's a boy. There you go.

- Scott? Scott, are you dressed yet? - I'll be right there.

All right.

- Lou? - Yes, dear?

You sure you got the right pants from the cleaners?

Just a second.

- You asked that yesterday morning. - They still don't fit.

- They still too loose? - The cuffs are draggin'.

They do look kinda big.

I dunno what that cleaner's doing, but tell him to cut it out.

You're just losing weight. It's very becoming, so don't complain.

- You want one or two eggs? - One.

One? Now that's why your pants don't fit.

- Lou? - Yeah?

Hey, the shirt doesn't fit either.

It's your shirt. It's got your monogram on it.

- What's that supposed... - Eat your breakfast and forget it.

I know a lot of people who'd like to lose weight. What's your secret?

- Maybe it's the cooking around here. - Well, thanks a lot. Drink your juice.

- Lou, do me a favour. - What, honey?

- Pick up a bathroom scale today. - All right.

Still get five foot eleven inches, Mr. Carey.

I've been six foot one since I was 17.

- What's the weight? - Still 174 and a quarter pounds.

I don't understand it. That's a loss of almost ten pounds.

I told you, you're probably overworking yourself.

You told me that when you overwork you get nervous and lose weight.

But I've never lost that much weight.

Besides, I haven't been particularly nervous lately.

Not eating wouldn't make me lose height, would it?

Oh, I very much doubt if you've been losing height, Mr. Carey.

Why don't you put your things on?

You told me that you've been six foot one since you were 17 years old.

That's right.

How many physical examinations have you had since then?

Oh, the draft board, the Navy, a life insurance physical.

That's not too many.

It's possible there might have been errors made on all of them as regards your height.

It often happens. A number of things could cause such errors.

If you stood erect, you'd measure out as taller than you actually are.

Or if your height was taken in the morning, you'd measure out as taller.

Why's that?

Because people decrease in height during the day.

See, the body weight compresses the spinal discs, the bone joints and so on.

I see. Two inches, Doctor?

I wouldn't worry about it, Mr. Carey. As far as I can see you're in perfect health.

Likely lost a little weight due to an insufficient diet but...

People don't get shorter, Mr. Carey. They just don't get shorter.

What'd Charlie think about your idea for the ad?

Oh, he thinks it has possibilities.

- Well? - Four pounds.

- Up or down? - Down.

That does it, my boy. You're gonna start taking vitamins.

I'm gonna get you so fat on ice cream and cake...

you'll think you're living in a child's paradise.

- I don't think that's gonna fix it. - Then we'll see a doctor.

- You're due for a checkup anyway. - I've already seen a doctor.

- When? - A week ago.

Well, honey, why didn't you say something about it?

Come here, Louise.

- Kiss me. - You think that's gonna fix it, huh?

You didn't have to stretch. You used to stand on your toes.

What? In your stocking feet?

I'm getting smaller, Lou. Every day.

Well, that's silly, honey. People just don't get smaller.

Yeah. Yeah, you're right.

We'll go back to the doctor tomorrow. I'm sure he's got a pill for it.

Don't worry, Butch. Everything's gonna be all right. Go to bed.

Well, that's the last of them, Mr. Carey.

- This has been a long week, Dr. Bramson. - I must have worn out your machine.

I needed two full sets of pictures spaced several days apart.

I had to compare them before I... Before I could be sure.

Sure of what, Doctor? What is it?

Relax, Doctor, you can't tell me anything I haven't imagined.

You are getting smaller.

I... I don't profess to understand it, Mr. Carey.

There's no medical precedent for what's happening to you.

I simply know that you're getting smaller.

The X-rays prove it beyond any doubt.

But that's impossible.

That's what we've always believed, Mrs. Carey.

I'm gonna send you to the California Medical Research Institute.

If there is an explanation for your phenomenon, why...

They'll find it.

Then began a series of intensive tests.

I drank a barium solution, and stood behind a fluoroscope screen.

They gave me radioactive iodine.

And an examination with a Geiger counter.

I had electrodes fastened to my head.

Water restriction tests, protein bond tests, eye tests, blood cultures...

X-rays and more X-rays. Tests, endless tests.

And then one day in the third week the final examination.

A paper chromatography test.

Now don't be despondent, Mr. Carey.

At least we've found out what is happening to you.

Gradual loss of nitrogen, calcium, phosphorus.

- This test may tell us why. - I hope so.

I think the strip should be dry by now. We should find phospholipid...

amino acids, cholesterol, creatinine, and protein.

These are the elements most commonly found on the strip.

Wait a minute.

This one doesn't belong.

It certainly doesn't belong. Here, take a look.

Our analysis shows that it's a rearrangement...

of the molecular structure of the cells in your body.

- You mean like a cancer? - No.

No, more like an anti-cancer, causing a diminution of all the organs.

Then you know what's causing me to get smaller.

We think we do, Mr. Carey. That's why I asked you here.

Now I want you to tell me something.

Have you ever been accidentally exposed to any kind of germ spray?

In particular, an insecticide, a great deal of it.

- Insecticide? - Exactly.

Has there ever been a time when you were so exposed?

Do you remember that day I told you about the truck?

Yes, about two months ago.

I was on my way to the store through an alley.

As I was walking a truck turned in. It was spraying trees.

- Is that what's causing me to... - No, that was only the beginning.

You see, something happened to that insecticide after it was in your system.

Something fantastic and unprecedented.

Something which, in layman's terms...

so affected the insecticide that from a mildly virulent germ spray...

it created deadly chemical reversal of the growth process.

Have you been exposed to any radioactivity in the past six months?

Oh, no, of course not. I don't come in contact with anything like that.

- I work in... - Scott, wait a minute.

That day we were on the boat.

- The boat? - Charlie's boat. Remember?

Well, yes, I remember.

The mist.

That mist!

You want me to drive, honey?

No, I'm all right.

Louise...

I want you to start thinking about us. Our marriage.

Some awful things might happen. There's a limit to your obligation.

Oh now, wait a minute.

Look, I love you. Don't you know that?

You love Scott Carey. He has a size and a shape and a way of thinking.

- All that's changing now. - Not a darn thing's changed.

When I married you I meant what I said.

And as long as you've got this wedding ring on, you've got me.

Come on now, let's go home.

The truth is, I just lost the Bannister account.

You know how big that account was. Probably 40 per cent of my income.

It's gone now and I just can't afford to send you your pay cheques any more.

You've done everything that a brother possibly could do.

Look, I don't like to say this but there have been reporters over at the plant.

Looks like somebody at the medical centre talked about you.

I told them there was nothing in it, but one of the reporters stayed behind.

He was from the American Press Syndicate.

He said they might pay for the story. If it's true.

Scott, the story's going to break anyway eventually.

So whether you make them pay or not, they're going to make the most of it.

- So make them pay. - No, Charlie.

Well, think about it.

All right. I'll think about it.

But really, was there any choice?

We owed a great deal of money and I had no job.

There was no choice. None at all.

And so I became... famous.

And still Robert Scott Carey...

known to a nation as The Incredible Shrinking Man, keeps getting smaller.

How long will this phenomenon continue?

I want to apply for an unlisted line please.

This is a special case.

My name is Louise Carey, my hus...

Carey. C-A-R-E-Y.