Tales from the Darkside

Man lives in the sunlit world

of what he believes to be reality.

But... there is,

unseen by most, an underworld.

A place that is just as real

but not as brightly lit.

A dark side.

The... atmosphere

is, uh, cheerless...

funereal.

There's neither... the...

neither the, uh...

...neither the tantalizing luridness

of the gypsy's wagon,

nor the somber mystery

of the medium's parlor.

It is simply...

...uninteresting.

Hmm.

The last flickering flame

of showmanship.

And your own flame, sir?

Fires are the archenemy

of the circus, Mr. Bragg.

You know me.

Oh, I know you well.

From the articles you have written through the years,

I know you very well indeed.

Ah, but you've been cleverly invisible.

I couldn't find you.

Happily, my audiences don't seem to have that problem.

Yes.

People are, uh, diligent about throwing away their money

on such lurid fictions as you supply.

"Circus!

"Before your very eyes,

"man into werewolf.

"See the vampire rise from its coffin.

"Bring...

"the children.

Invest in a sense of wonder."

How much, exactly, is the investment, Dr. Nis?

I only require enough

to feed my troupe of performers.

How is it that you came here today, Mr. Bragg?

Uh, on a back road near here,

my tires caught a berm.

My car went into a tree.

More carelessness.

It seems chronic with you, Mr. Bragg.

Yes.

But this time, it brought me good fortune.

As a newspaperman,

I've always listened to rumors.

And there's been this crazy one.

Crazy but persistent.

Of a freak circus that never visited large cities,

but stopped, for one night only, at isolated villages.

I am pleased to know

that I have held such prominent stature in your devotions,

Mr. Bragg.

Hardly.

You see, I'm not paid to debunk charlatans, Dr. Nis.

I'm paid to sell newspapers,

which I manage with awesome success.

Debunking charlatans-- well, that's a side benefit.

I pour out all my... disappointment,

disillusionment, disgust with the world...

...and just leave it on someone else's doorstep

with the morning milk.

It's a form of survival, Dr. Nis.

Keeps me from going mad.

Will you stay for this evening's performance?

Or do you intend to write about it sight unseen?

I don't suppose your observations will vary,

one way or another.

You wouldn't consider

a private showing, perhaps--

some of the more

garish, sensational highlights of your show?

Not only will I consider it,

I will insist on it.

The natural world is full of prodigies,

for those who open their eyes and mind.

We begin with a vampire, Mr. Bragg.

You're all right.

Everything is quite all right.

Nanoosh.

Good Lord...

you're not going to...

Dr. Nis...

...this was no mere illusion.

You actually slaughtered that poor animal.

Your poster...

urges people to bring children.

Surely, not even you can feel this...

...is suitable for children.

We would never use a lamb for the general audience.

Particularly for the children.

For the performance, a snake, a rodent.

But these creatures supply a small quantity of blood.

So, in the early evening,

when the succubus first arises from sleep,

we offer it something more substantial

to slake its thirst.

It wouldn't do for it to be in need

when the audience arrives.

A very serious accident might happen.

By and large, it does what we want it to do.

But none of our performers

are 100% reliable.

Excellent makeup job.

I'll give you that.

Do the, uh, teeth

actually penetrate the animal's flesh,

or is there a hidden blade somewhere?

It's just the dogs, you see, Mr. Bragg.

They help keep us free of intruders.

You seem interested in our finances, Mr. Bragg.

The vampire is the costliest of our troupe to keep fed.

Not like our dogs,

that make their supper from the little pests

that are always visitors in our tents.

Oh, dear.

We'll have to ask Nanoosh