Jack the Bear

Frankenstein.! Frankenstein.!

Frankenstein.! Frankenstein.!

Bring him down to the village, and let's make it home.

I thought I knew all about monsters.

I used to watch them late at night on Dad's TVshow.

After we moved to Oakland, he stopped doing kids'shows, because he was different now.

Everything was different.

Now he was Al Gory, monster of ceremonies at Midnight Shriek.

Oh, Al?

What? Oh, it's you again.

So, anyway, before we dig in to our second feature...

I have to pay a visit to my aging mother.

She would've wanted me to have this.

It was on real late, way past my bedtime.

Dad didn't let me stay up to see it, so I used to wait for Mrs. Sampson to fall asleep...

Hold it. Hold it. I think that was a good one.

and sneak into his bedroom to watch.

But then I'd get scared, alone in his room at night...

and I wouldn't know why.

I didn't know yet what I was going to learn that year:

that monsters are real.

Whoa.

We had sort ofjust picked up and left Syracuse...

crossing the country, finding a house...

the three of us taking care of all the grown-up stuff together.

Here. I'll get that.

- Who is it? - I got that.

Come on, Dylan.

I guess it could've been strange being in a new place.

Can your dad come out and play?

But it didn't take long for Dad to become a celebrity among the kids on our block.

When's the monster coming out?

There's no such thing as monsters. You all know that, don't you?

Monsters exist only in ourselves.

They live in the darkest chambers of our hearts.

They never actually come out into the world...

unless, of course, a metal light appears in the sky, but when's the last time you saw that?

So why don't we try and be adults about this and run along home, okay?

- Hey, what's that? - Mr. Leary.!

- What? - Look. Look.

- Look. - There it is.

He was always a madman for playing with kids.

Mom used to say that was because he was reallyjust a kid himself.

Mr. Leary, what's this strange power you have over our children?

I'm the perfect monster.

And the house we found in Oakland was perfect for playing anything...

especially the flashlight game.

Come on, Dylan. In the closet.

But it was different now, the way he played with us.

It was like he had to do it.

After the heartbreak had happened, sometimes I wondered...

if Dad didn't need our games more than we did.

Okay. Right. That's right. This is gonna be your bass note, okay?

Ready?

Where's ""C''? Right. Great.

Great. Now again.

Sorry, Mom.

Right.

Very, very nice,Jackie.

- Hey,Jackie. - Hey.

Mom?

Mom died last winter.

Dylan, don't wake Dad.

Dylan and I were still learning things you need to know...

when you move to a new house.

Like in our case: Don't play in the backyard.

If you get caught in there, they eat you.

Out front, there was a whole neighborhood to get to know.

Split the difference, okay? Put the ball right there, okay?

Like Mr. Festinger, who always yelled at his son Edward for being retarded.

Edward!

Edward, what did I tell you about your eyes and the ball?

Never take your eyes off the ball.

All right. You almost caught it. You almost caught that one. Come on. Let's go.

And Dexter, who lived next door.

My mom might be sleeping.

His parents were really his grandparents...

because his real parents had split from each other and from him...

and probably from everything.

Guess what. We got company.

Let's go to my room.

Of course, his grandparents weren't doing much better.

Did I tell you he was a fighting Seabee?

No one else on our street would let their kids play at the Mitchell's.

Come on. Let's go.

Them that are over there. That's them over there.

See? Over there. Get 'em. Get 'em. Get 'em.

Hey, Zombie. That's right. I'm talkin' to you.

The next time your dog defecates on my lawn, he's dead, pal.

Goddamn son of a--

And then there was Norman the Zombie...

who mangled one ofhis legs in a terrible accident as a teenager...

when he crashed his T-Bird into an ice cream truck.

He'd fixed up the car and kept it on blocks in his driveway...

washing it every day.

You know, inside that cane is a sword.

- I've seen it. - And he attacked Mr. Festinger one night with a tree branch.

Hit him right over the head with it.

He also blinded his own dog with a rock.

You ever look at it? Looks like a dead marble.

- Oh, God.! - He's coming for us.

Get down. Get down, Dig.! Get down. Dig.! Dig.!

Dig, he's comin'!

Is Norman gonna get us?

He's not gonna get us.

He killed his parents. You ever seen 'em over there in a long time?

- I've never seen 'em. - You used to, walkin'around behind the curtains.

I'm not going to go look. That's for sure.

Maybe we should.

- I'll get it. - No. I wanna do it myself.

- Well, don't fall. - Okay, kids. Get to bed.

- See? I can reach it. - Don't give Ms. Sampson a heart attack.

- What's up,Jackie Bear? - Uh, nothin'.

We're gonna have a lot of fun at the studio tomorrow.

But as for now, it's off to work.

Buyin'a new car doesn't have to give you a headache, not if you go to East Bay Dodge.

Ah. My old friend, Psycho Ward Cleaver.

Put that thing down, Psycho, and we'll go for a test drive.

You know, Psycho, this beautiful Dodge Challenger is loaded.

- Air-conditioning. Power steering. Blood bucket seats. - Ooh!

Michael, wait up. Michael.

Quiet. Quiet.

Shh, shh-shh.

- What do we do now? - Let's go.

- We got it? - Come on.

What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?

- Norman is gonna kill you. - Spray anywhere.

Jackie, wake up. We gotta go downstairs.

He said he'd cut his foot investigating a noise...

outside his house.

I couldn't figure out why he didn't tell Dad the rest.

He must not have too many good friends if he had to come to us...

in his time of need.

He has a sword in that cane.

Really?

Yeah. And he attacked Mr. Festinger one night with a tree branch.

Really?

Wonder why he didn't use his sword.

I guess that's when it all started.

I just didn't realize till later that the trouble wasn't only with Norman.

Uh-oh. Me spill.

Who let this brat into my crypt?

Spaghetti Bolognese? Now, how do you expect me to clean up this mess?

This oughta do the trick.

Don't move, Dylan. Hang in there. Okay. Cut.

Camera one, lock it off. All right. You can move now.

- Peggy, take his clothes off. - Come here.

- Hi, Peggy. - Here you go,Jack. Hang onto that.

One day you're gonna like the girls doin'this. Jack, don't you wanna be in the commercial?

No way. I have friends that watch this show.

- Give me the clothes, Peggy. Put 'em right here. - Yep.

-John, can I see you for a second? - Now, Gordon?

-John, can I see you for a second? - Now, Gordon?

Right now. Do you mind?

All right. Well, let's take five.

What? What? You canceling the show?

No, no. I love the show. I love the commercials. I love everything.

- You gonna give me more bread? - Look.

I've been fightin'as hard as I can for you, but they're pinnin'me to the mat.

It seems they have a problem with your Psycho Ward Cleaver character.

They think he's in bad taste.

- Why? Because he has multiple head wounds? - Who knows?

So just think of another character.

Is this a suggestion or a nonnegotiable demand?

It's a-- It's just a phone call.

- They make a phone call, and you roll over. - Don't worry.

Your dad can always calm Gordon down.

- You're layin' down on me. - Course I am.

What? These people say ""Shit,'' and you say, ""What color?''

All right. Give me the jug. Peggy, run out and round up a bucket of dog vomit.

We'll throw it on the rug. All right. Come on.

Mom always said Dad bristled when he got mad.

And some people made him madder than others.

Grandma! Grandma!

- Grandma! Grandma! - Hi. Ooh, look at him.!

Maybe that's where the trouble really came from.

- Look who's here. - Oh, my goodness golly.

Ooh-ooh-ooh.!

- Hi. - Come on.

How are you? Hi,John.

- Whoa. Look at that! - Hey. For you.

Long ago in Hollywood, Mom's parents...

were put on a blacklist they kept for Communists.

Though no one ever proved they carried the cards, which is the way you could tell.

- Lincoln Steffens. Thank you, Grandma. - You're welcome.

A great man,Jack.

Someone stays with you and your brother while your dad's at work?

- Mrs. Sampson. - Uh-huh.

- An older woman? - Uh-huh.

I could tell he was tryin'to get me to rat on Dad...

the way his friends ratted on him long ago.

Fishing with red bait for something he could hold against Dad to his grave.

Is he laying off the sauce?

Uh-huh.

You know, it doesn't help make things better,John-- only worse.

Couldn't resist, could you, Syd?

Tsk.

- Didn't help your marriage much. - Sydney.

- Is this why you came here? - No. I came to see my grandchildren.

Then what are you doin' talkin' to me?