Eagleheart

Hey, kid, where you headed?

Home.

You want a ride?

I got some comic books.

Um...

- Okay. - Hop in.

Well, here we are.

Thanks for the ride, mister!

Hey, buddy. Where you headed?

Home.

You want a ride?

I got some pictures of siamese twins.

Okay.

Chris: Eh, boy.

All right, watch your feet... ugh.

- - Chris: Ugh!

Brett: Creepy Earl.

Chris: Who's that?

Brett: He was the most wonderful man I ever knew.

When I was growing up, he would give us kids rides in his rusty van

and invite us over to pet his rabbits.

Why'd he have to die?

Chris: Well, if I had to guess, I'd say he got a disease from those rabbits.

In about 24 hours, this town's gonna be a dust-ridden plague zone.

If we want to die painlessly, I say we kill ourselves now.

I'll go first.

Susie: There's a fresh scar on his abdomen.

Brett: Probably a Chupacabra bite.

Susie: No, I think he was murdered.

- And what is this? - Chris: Give me that.

"Randal James Barker...

Frank Duggard...

Rudy Jay Jimmerson...

Earl Dandridge...

Neil Phipps."

Susie: Stop.

Chief: These are the town's biggest creeps...

And the town's stiffest corpses.

Except Neil Phipps.

Susie: Why is someone murdering creeps?

Chief: A better question is, why is your hunky-firemen calendar still on April?

Susie: Oh.

Oh, hello, Sam Drake!

He's the hunkiest fireman in town.

Brett: Hunkiest guy in town, period.

Chris: Oh, please.

As Shania Twain so famously said, "that don't impress a-me much."

Susie: So, you think someone's gonna try to kill Neil Phipps?

Brett: Is he a creep?

Chief: He's a 46-year-old billionaire who still lives with his mother.

Chris: All right.

Let's go.

Susie: Hello?!

Chris:

All right.

Susie: Namibian red-eyed tarantulas...

The largest and rarest tarantula in the world.

And the deadliest.

- Chris: Creepy. - Susie:

They're not creepy.

And neither am I.

What do you want?

Chris: We're U.S. marshals.

And we have reason to believe that your life may be in danger.

Well...

When you're the world's most successful creator of "to-do list" software,

you can expect to make some enemies.

It's a risk I've learned to live with.

Can I offer you some ginger ale?

Chris: I'll take a light beer, domestic, frosted mug.

Brett: I'll have some lactaid and sliced banana.

I have ginger ale.

Chris: That'll be fine.

That will be all, mother.

Chris: Well, I got to hand it to you, Phipps.

You've really got quite a rad pad here.

Yes, I do.

I guess you could say success was always on my to-do list.

Chris: And it's just you and the mother who live here?

If you're asking about a wife, the answer is no.

Chris: Oh.

What about, uh...

- Girlfriends? - No.

Women never got Neil Phipps.

- Chris: What a shocker. -

Susie: Hello?

Really? Okay.

Goodbye.

They found another dead creep.

What's going on?

Chris: Eh, somebody's offing creeps.

We thought you were gonna be his next target.

Why does everyone think I'm a creep?!

Chris: Well, it's probably because of the way you are and the things you do.

Finish your ginger ale and get out!

Chris:

Well, I guess we should have a look at that creep's corpse.

What do you say we go hang around the ladies' changing rooms

at T.J. Maxx for a while and then go to the morgue?

Brett: Roger that.

Susie: What?

Uh, you guys go ahead.

I'm just gonna check some things out here.

Help me!

Susie: Get off of me, you creep!

He was cut open in the same place as the others.

It turns out they were all missing their gallbladders.

Chris: Who cares?

Well, it was recently discovered

that the gallbladder secretes a chemical called Rux-40, or creepatin.

This guy's creepatin levels should have been off the charts,

but there was none found in his body.

Chris: Let me see that.

Uh. Oh, geez.