"I foresee a rocky, romantic affair
between superstar Madonna and super-witness Kato Kaelin."
That's a gimme...
that's not really going out on a limb, is it?
"I foresee author J.D. Salinger finally publishing a new novel
and hitting the talk show circuit to promote it."
Hmm... that's just playing the odds.
"I foresee the revelation that not Elvis
"but, rather, Buddy Holly is still alive.
"Having faked his own death so many years ago,
"Holly will not only reemerge
"but also regroup with The Crickets,
"and they will headline at next year's Lalapala...
Lalapaz... pazoola"?
What the hell is Lalapalazo?
Who's Buddy Holly?
Just give me my lotto ticket
and, uh, a pint of malt scotch whiskey.
Anything else?
Yeah.
One of these.
Sorry.
Don't apologize.
You're a better dancer than my last date.
So, what has brought you to Madame Zelma?
Well, can you really know everything about me
just by looking at my hands?
Mm-hmm. The palms tell me all.
I would just like for you to be able to tell me...
why am I going to be doing
the things that I'm going to be doing?
Madame Zelma... she is a palm reader,
not a psychologist.
I know, I know, it's just...
I think I've somehow caught a glimpse of my own future...
myself.
And I see me doing things that...
that just seem so out of character for me.
I mean, these are things that I'm not only doing,
I don't want to be doing,
but I can't even imagine myself capable of doing.
And yet, there I am. I'm doing them.
Mister!
Please, you're hurting me.
I know. I know.
And I'm sorry...
but you're a fortune teller.
- No. Please. - You should've seen this coming.
They say the eyes capture the last image
a murder victim sees before they're killed.
So what do they say about entrails?
"Yuck."
Is it true you asked for some help in this case?
This guy's supposed to be an expert at this sort of thing.
I heard he was a bit unorthodox.
He comes highly recommended.
Yeah. I saw him on TV.
Okay, so he's a publicity hound.
As long as he gets results.
I once worked on a case he did.
Very spooky.
As long as he gives us leads,
I don't care how big a kook...
Who the hell are you?
I'm Agent Mulder.
This is Agent Scully.
Oh, I forgot you were coming aboard.
I'm Cline. This is Havez.
We're thinking this guy might be a Satanist,
what with the eyeballs.
The Satanists take the eyeballs
and leave the body, not vice versa.
Not in anything but modern myths.
He's gouging eyes for no reason?
No, nobody does anything without a reason.
We've already composed
a profile of the killer.
We offer possible explanations for the nature of his attacks
and also his choice of victims.
Does it explain the entrails?
Anthropomancy.
It was once believed
that you could divine your future
by vivisecting a human being and studying the entrails.
So this guy is hacking up people
in order to see his future?
Well, there's a possible connection
with all of his victims being professional prognosticators.
Till this one. She was a professional doll collector.
And an amateur tasseographer.
She read tea leaves.
After drinking the tea,
you can gain insight into your future by
examining the pattern of the leaves on the bottom of the cup.
You believe in this stuff?
I'm not convinced of its accuracy,
but I'm pretty sure the victim was.
- Why? - The leaves were telling her
she was about to be murdered.
You're going to have to stand back, all right?
This is official police business.
Mr. Yappi, I appreciate you coming all the way down here...
Quiet!
Yes. I'm seeing visions.
Visions of the killer.
He does not feel like he's in control of his own life.
Very important. That's why he kills. Yes!
Can you see what he looks like?
He looks like... a white man with facial hair.
Or not.
But he has...
yes!
A tattoo!
Somewhere on his body.
Maybe the tattoo has the facial hair.
I think.
Hmm!
I see him here!
Forcing himself, yes! On the girl!
But he cannot perform...
so he's taking out his rage.
It's gone.
I lost the vision.
Someone is blocking me.
I am picking up negative energy.
Please, leave this room.
I'm part of this investigation.
You give off negative energy.
I can assure you, Mr. Yappi,
I'm a believer in psychic ability.
So you say with your mouth,
but your thoughts tell me the truth.
Agent Mulder, please.
I can't take you anywhere.
Now, excuse me, I have an interview to give.
Skeptics like you make me sick.
Mr. Yappi, read this thought.
So's your old man!
It's too bad about your negative energy, Mulder.
You missed quite a performance.
Look what he did to my pen.
Let me impress you with my psychic ability.
Mr. Yappi proclaimed the victim's body
would be found near water.
He saw a church or a school in the vicinity.
He got a flash of the letter "S"
- and/or the number seven. - So what's your point?
Well, his leads are so vague as to be practically useless,
yet easily interpreted as correct after the fact.
He said that the killer doesn't feel
in control of his own life, but that's true
of everyone at times.
He said a lot of other things.
Yeah, and some are bound by percentages to be right,
but most will turn out wrong. Now, which is which?
Look, all I know is that so far, Yappi has provided
more solid, concrete leads on this case than you have.
Now, if you don't mind, I have to get an APB out
on a white male, 17 to 34, with or without a beard,
maybe a tattoo, who's impotent.
Let's go.
Might as well go home, Mulder.
This case is as good as solved.
So General Mutual has a very comprehensive
$200,000 life policy
at a net annual cost of $2,400.
You see, the thing is...
we were really hoping to buy a boat.
Mr. Gordon, as a young husband,
I think you're going to find
that your new responsibilities to your family
take precedence over your recreational needs.
But this is a really good boat.
You don't get it, do you, kid?
Two years from now, while driving down Route 91,
coming home to your wife and baby daughter,
you're going to be hit head-on by a drunk...
driving a blue '87 Mustang.
You'll end up looking worse
than the 60 feet of bad road your body slides across
after flying out your front windshield.
Mister...
you really need to work on your closing technique.
Oh, no, no, no, no. Not your lighter, Mrs. Lowell.
I want your garbage.
Get out of here, you monster.
Is everything all right, Mrs. Lowell?
You have enough supplies?
You have enough dog food?
Oh, God.
It's kind of creepy, isn't it?
Stupendous Yappi said the first victim's body
has been dumped somewhere, then we find it in a Dumpster.
Ooh, I just got a chill down my spine.
Who found the body?
According to the police report, Mr. Bruckman,
you didn't touch the body after you found her.
Why would I want to?
But you reported that you found a body with its eyes cut out.
The body was facedown.
If you didn't move it,
how did you know the eyes had been removed?
Well, they had been, hadn't they?
Then what are you complaining about?
How had the eyes been cut out?
By a piece of crystal ball, of all cockamamie things.
We did find some
crystal shards on the body.
How do you know it was from a crystal ball?
Well, it just... it just figures.
I mean, if a guy goes to kill a fortune teller,
he's obviously going to assault her
with her own crystal ball, and then
use the shattered piece as a sort of lance.
Isn't he?
Mr. Bruckman, how much have you heard
about the recent slayings in town?
Just that some nut is going around killing fortune tellers
and ripping their eyes and entrails out.
How did you know about the entrails?
That information hasn't been released to the press.
I never read the papers.
Too depressing.
Mr. Bruckman?
Sorry, Mr. Bruckman,
but I'm going to have to ask you to come with us.
Step inside, Mr. Bruckman.
Why? What-what is this all about?
A murder occurred here earlier this evening,
and we have reason to believe that it was committed
by the same person who murdered the woman that you found.
Is there anything you can tell us about it?
I didn't do it.
You're not under suspicion.
But I do harbor a suspicion
that you can see things about this crime...
things that we can't see.
I-I'm not sure I understand what you mean.
I think you do.
Yeah, yeah, right.
Uh, I'd like to see both
your badges again right now.
I don't blame you, Mr. Bruckman.
I'm supposed to believe that's a real name?
What is this all about?
I found a dead body in my Dumpster.
I-I reported it to the police.
Now suddenly I'm accused of doing things?
Or being able to do things
that I couldn't possib...
Pinch me.
This guy is performing
the same routine as The Stupendous Yappi.
He's just doing it in a different style.
No, something told me, Scully...
something is telling me this guy's for real.
Oh, so now you're psychic?
The killer...
he doesn't feel like he's in control of his own life.
I mean, like... who is?
Am I right?
But this guy... he truly believes it.
He sees himself as some kind of a...
puppet.
Can you describe him?
Do you get a visual impression of him?
So you can see into him, but not at him.
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to give off any negative energy.
Negative energy? What is this...
What is it?
What do you see?
He's having sex with her.
There.
Is he raping her?
Oh, no, no, not at all.
In fact, she's instigating the whole thing.
Then what's wrong?
Oh...
sometimes it...
it just seems that everyone's having sex except for me.
Mr. Bruckman, can you tell us why
the killer is murdering people
in the way that he is?
Why does anyone do the things they do?
Why do I sell insurance?
I wish I knew.
Why did this woman collect dolls?
What was it about her life?
Was it one specific moment
where she suddenly said, "I know... dolls"?
Or was it a whole series of things,
starting when her parents first met,
that somehow combined in such a way
that in the end, she had no choice
but to be a doll collect...
You'll find the woman tomorrow morning...
by the fat little white Nazi storm trooper.
Glenview Lake.
Her body's floating in Glenview Lake.
Now if you'll excuse me...
I think I've seen enough death for one night.
Is she from around here, you think?
Be honest, Scully.
Doesn't that propane tank bear more than
just a slight resemblance
to a fat little white Nazi storm trooper?
Mulder, the human mind naturally seeks meaningful patterns
and configurations in things that don't inherently have any.
Given the suggestion of a particular image,
you can't help but see that shape somewhere.
If that tank weren't there,
you'd see it in a rock or in a tree...
Did you answer my question?
Yes, it looks like a fat little white Nazi storm trooper.
But that only proves my point.
He named the specific body of water
the victim would be found in.
Mulder, that only implies that he was
the one that put her in there.
I don't believe he's the killer.
I don't believe he's psychic.
Well, if he's neither, then how did he know
where the body would be found?
Maybe he's just lucky.
38, 40 and 44.
Once again, the winning lotto numbers are...
Why?
...eight, 12...
Why do I do this to myself?
Come in.
I knew it was you.
I know why you're here.
You're here because you found that woman's body
where I told you it would be.
And now you're convinced I have some sort of psychic power.
So while your skeptical lady partner
is off performing an autopsy,
you came here to ask my help catching this serial murderer.
Everything you said is correct.
Oh, it's you.
I won't help you.
Please leave.
But you do admit to having this gift.
Oh, I got it, all right.
The only problem is it's non-returnable.
Mr. Bruckman, you possess an ability
that not only has staggering implications
upon physics and human consciousness,
but it's one which most people, myself included,
would be envious of.
Yet you seem to treat it with disdain.
Do you want to know how you're going to die?
Y-Yes, I would.
No, you don't.
Of course, not knowing has its own drawbacks,
which is why a good insurance policy is so important.
I-I don't know what kind of coverage the FBI has,
but General Mutual has...
Mr. Bruckman, this murderer
has already committed four homicides.
And he'll commit more whether I help you or not.
How can you be so sure?
How could I see the future if it didn't already exist?
But if the future is written, then why bother to do anything?
Now you're catching on.
Mr. Bruckman,
I believe in your ability, but not your attitude.
I can't stand by and watch people die
without doing everything in my... albeit un-supernatural... power
to interfere with that fate.
Well, you see, that's another reason
I can't help you catch this guy.
I might adversely affect the fate of the future.
I mean, his next victim might be the mother of the daughter
whose son invents the time machine.
Then the son goes back in time and changes world history.
And then Columbus never discovers America,
man never lands on the moon,
the U.S. never invades Grenada,
or something less significant,
resulting in the fact that my father never meets my mother,
and consequently, I'm never born.
So when do we start?
I don't know what it is,
but it belonged to one of the victims.
That's a hit.
In psychical research parlance, a correct guess is a "hit,"
an incorrect guess is a "miss."
The guy who cast the mold for this
will die of prostate cancer at the age of 82.
Hit or miss?
I have no way of verifying that information.
Then why'd you ask me?
Do you receive any other impressions from it?
It's ugly.
Next.
I was told you were interrogating a suspect,
but something tells me...
I'm now convinced of our psychic's abilities, Scully.
Or rather, his one ability.
He's able to divine how people are going to die,
but that's all.
He can't provide any practical information on our case.
I got it!
This is yours.
This is from your New York Knicks T-shirt.
Miss.
This is worse than playing the lotto.
Try reading this.
Save me the headache, Scully... what is it?
It was found on the woman that was pulled the lake.
Identical key chains were found on two of the other victims.
I managed to trace the insignia
to an investment firm called Uranus Unlimited.
They provide market strategies
based on astrological forecasts.
And the company is owned by a man named...
Claude Dukenfield.
Age 43.
316 Roundview Lane.
Divorced with two children.
Makes about 87,000 a year.
Non-smoker.
Is that a hit or a miss?
As far as I know, that's correct.
You got all that information just by handling that key chain?
Oh, no.
I sold him a policy a couple of months ago.
Just a coincidence.
In any case, we're trying to get ahold of him.
Well, you won't be able to do that.
He's been murdered.
We're almost there.
How are you receiving this information
about the body's location?
How should I know?
I mean, are you seeing it in a vision,
or is it a sensation?
How do you know where to go?
I just know.
But how do you know?
I don't know.
Look, it's just up ahead.
You know, there are worse ways to go,
but I can't think of a more undignified one
than autoerotic asphyxiation.
Why are you telling me that?
Look, forget I mentioned it.
It's none of my business.
Oops. Pull over here.
Stop, stop, stop.
This is the spot.
I guess you run into a lot of dead bodies
in your line of work.
You get used to it.
I never have.
I'm not sure you're supposed to.
You remember the first time you foresaw someone's death?
1959.
What happened in 1959?
Buddy Holly's plane crashed.
You prognosticated Buddy Holly's death?
Oh, God, no.
Why would I want to do that?
But I did have a ticket
to see him perform the next night.
Actually, I was a bigger fan
of the Big Bopper than Buddy Holly.
"Chantilly Lace," that was the song.
I'm not following.
The Big Bopper was not supposed
to be on the plane with Buddy Holly.
He won the seat from somebody else
by flipping a coin for it.
I'm still not following.
Imagine all the things that had to occur,
not only in his life but in everybody else's,
to arrange it so that on that particular night,
the Big Bopper would be in a position
to live or die depending on a flipping coin.
I became so obsessed
with that idea
that I gradually became capable of seeing the specifics
of everybody's death.
Now, Mr. Bruckman, I'm not one
who readily believes in that kind of thing.
And if I was, I still wouldn't believe that story.
I know it sounds crazy,
but I swear it's true.
I was a bigger fan of the Big Bopper than Buddy Holly.
Where's the body?
Yeah, Mr. Bruckman, I don't understand how you can know
that this is the exact area,
but you can't pinpoint the exact spot.
I guess I can't see the forest for the trees.
Okay, now.
I'm glad I could bring a little smile
into your life, Mr. Bruckman.
I'm not smiling; I'm wincing.
What is this?
The only evidence recovered
from Claude Dukenfield's body.
That fiber may have come from something
the killer was wearing at the time of the crime.
Don't you have crime labs that analyze these things for you?
Yes. Yes, we do.
But it'll take them time to provide any information.
A similar fiber was found on one of the earlier victims,
and we're still waiting for the lab to determine its source.
You'd be saving us a great deal of work.
Look, I've got my own work to do.
I'm not a crime fighter by trade.
Mr. Bruckman,
I can't speak for my partner, but I'm desperate...
for some insurance.
General Mutual has some very comprehensive coverage...
Oh, I can't tell you where this is from, but-but...
the killer's going to kill more people before you catch him.
Can you see him physically yet?
No, no, just more insight into his character,
which I know you hate.
He thinks he's psychic.
Is he?
I hope not.
I've seen some of the things he's seen.
Like what? What does he see?
Hey!
You.
He sees you.
Trying to catch him.
Where does this take place?
In a kitchen.
You're looking around for someone.
He's behind you now, but you don't know it,
and he's stalking towards you, and...
Oh, God.
What? What do you see?
He's got a knife.
It's got blood on it.
Why don't I see him? What am I doing?
You're looking down.
You stepped in a pie that's fallen to the floor.
The killer comes up to you and...
Coconut cream.
What?
The pie.
Coconut cream.
Or is it lemon meringue?
I don't know. It's...
Not sure, it's hazy.
Whatever... please continue.
As you're looking down,
he comes up with the knife and...
Banana cream!
Definitely banana cream.
All right, I'm looking down at
this banana cream pie, and then what?
He sees himself
coming up to you from behind.
And?
And what does he see?
Oh...
nothing.
They're visions of a madman.
You got all that from this?
How am I supposed to get anything
from this tiny little thing?
This came in the mail today.
Who's it from?
The killer.
"To whom it may concern:
"like our lives, this is a mere formality
"to let you know I know that you know.
"Can't wait till our first meeting when I kill you,
"but not before you explain some things to me.
"First on the list, why in the world
"did I send you this letter?
"Sincerely, You Know Who.
P.S. Say hi to the FBI agents."
Hi.
He must've been at the crime scenes
seeing you with us.
No, no, this letter is postmarked the day before
Mr. Bruckman joined our investigation.
You're going to have to come with us, Mr. Bruckman.
We got to get you out of here.
Look, I'll be dead before you catch this guy,
no matter what you do.
You've come to me
because you're searching for someone.
But don't worry... this person will find you.
It's a relative or a close friend.
Actually, a guy I'm going to kill.
Ah.
Ah, yes, it's clearer now.
You seek answers from a special man
who possesses a special wisdom.
This is real cream.
Not the phony stuff.
I know the difference.
And the chocolate... very rich.
Look at these cute little doilies
they put everything on.
You sure you don't want to join me?
So what are you doing?
Studying background checks.
This is what detective work is really like.
We can't come up with suspects by having visions.
Jealous?
You're very confused right now.
Nothing seems to make sense to you.
You don't know why you do the things that you do.
But your confusion
is soon to come to an abrupt end
with the arrival of a woman.
A blonde or a brunette.
Maybe a redhead.
It's something you haven't explained.
Can you see your own end?
I see our end.
We end up in bed together.
I'm sorry.
I-I shouldn't have said that.
I-I don't mean to offend you
or scare you, but not here, not this bed.
I-I just mean I see us quite clearly in bed together.
You're holding my hand
very tenderly, and then...
you're looking at me with such compassion.
And I feel...
tears are streaming down my face.
I feel so grateful.
It's just a very special moment neither of us will ever forget.
Mr. Bruckman,
there are hits and there are misses,
and then there are misses.
I just call 'em as I see 'em.
Wow, I'm really impressed.
I've been to a lot of fortune tellers,
but by far, you're the best.
There's still one more card left.
This card's not meant for me.
It's yours.
So Ahab mistakes the prophecy, and as a result dies.
A similar fate happens to Macbeth.
Still, you're not the least bit curious?
That must be Mulder.
Time for the midnight shift.
All right. So how do I die?
You don't.
Get this, Scully... the lab analysis
from the first bit of fiber that was found just came back.
It's lace.
Chantilly lace?
You know what I like.
Mulder, it's not likely that the killer was wearing
anything made out of Chantilly lace at the time of the murders.
But what are the odds
of the Big Bopper, Chantilly lace...?
It's a coincidence.
If coincidences are just coincidences,
why do they feel so contrived?
That's one to pose to the psychic philosopher.
Good night, Mulder.
Am I keeping you awake?
I'm waiting for you to ask me
another one of those psychic ability questions.
Well, I've had dreams in my life where I had a vision,
and then later on, I've seen that vision in reality,
and as a psychic,
have you ever had prophetic dreams like that?
I have only one dream.
I dream it every night.
You're not one of those people
who turns everything into a sexual symbol, are you?
No. No, I'm not a Freudian, no.
I'm lying naked in a field
of red tulips.
I'm not concerned with where I am
or how I got there.
I'm at peace,
and it's then that I realize I'm dead.
My body begins to turn a greenish white
with spots of purple.
Next, the insects arrive.
The inevitable follows... putridity and liquescence.
Before I know it, I'm nothing but bones.
When I start fading to dust,
I lose whatever care I still might have had
about where my clothes are.
And as I begin to feel myself slipping away,
towards I know not what,
I wake up.
Well, good night.
Mulder, there's...
Are you okay?
Oh, yeah. I just didn't sleep well.
What's up?
Havez is going to stay with Bruckman
while we go over to a tarot card reader
around the corner.
There's been another murder.
I'm beginning to lose patience with our psychic, Scully.
What good are his prophecies if they're not preventive?
Actually, I'm starting to feel
more sympathetic towards him.
So you're convinced he's a psychic now?
Well, no, not really.
Sorry, ma'am.
But I am convinced
that by thinking he can see the future,
he's taken all the joy out of his life.
So then the priest says to the rabbi...
"I had it set for quail."
Yeah!
Hey, I thought you said
you hadn't heard that one before.
I hadn't.
Hey...
is it true that you can see
how people are going to die?
I mean...
can you see how I'm going to die?
Lung cancer?
Thank God.
Hey, I got to go visit your restroom for a second.
Don't open that door for anybody.
Oh, God.
Was that not enough of a tip?
They brought you right to me...
right to where I work.
What are the chances of that happening?
They're astronomical.
It's beyond believability.
But not impossibility.
I mean, after all, here we are.
It's funny how things work out sometimes, isn't it?
I'll say.
So there's something I've been wanting
to ask you for some time now.
You've seen the things I do
in the past as well as in the future.
They're terrible things.
I know they are.
So, tell me, please, why have I done them?
Don't you understand yet, son?
Don't you get it?
You do the things you do
because you're a homicidal maniac.
That...
that does explain a lot, doesn't it?
It's all starting to make sense now.
No.
You don't kill me now.
I don't? Why not?
How should I know?
Now we either got a copycat killer,
or our guy is getting extremely lackadaisical.
Not only did he leave the body,
but he didn't even bother to remove the eyes.
If my Miss Manners serves me right,
that protrusion from his left cornea is a salad fork.
Something tells me we're going to get prints off it.
Mulder, I found another strand of that silk.
No, we got more than that this time, Scully.
We got fingerprints, probably a footprint even.
Yeah, this is more like it.
No more psychics and their vague visions and predictions.
Hell, we don't even need our own hunches.
This case is just now about
good old-fashioned forensic police work.
It's the bellhop.
He's the killer...
the bellhop at the hotel.
How the hell does she know that?
Woman's intuition.
Havez?
Mr. Bruckman?
Hey!
Drop it!
Hey...
that's not the way it's supposed to happen.
How did you know where to find us?
I didn't. I got in the service elevator by mistake.
Thank heaven for happenstance.
You know, none of Bruckman's prophecy came true.
The killer didn't get to him first,
but he did kill Havez.
Then Bruckman is all right?
Actually, I don't know. I couldn't find him.
Well, then where is he?
"Miss Scully."
"My neighbor, Mrs. Lowe, passed away last night.
"Please see that the remains
"of her remains are taken care of.
"Would you like a dog?
"He's paper-trained and well-behaved,
"regardless of his actions last night,
which you can't really blame him for."
Well, here's another nice mess
you've gotten me into.
Well, I couldn't help it.
Come on. Let's get back to Peoria, where we belong.
Do you want to know the future?
Do you want to know what lies ahead?
Then call me, The Stupendous Yappi.
For years, I have entertained audiences
with my psychic abilities.
I have been consulted by Hollywood stars,
police departments, even presidents.
Now I can be your personal psychic consultant.
Do you want to know if you will get that promotion?
Do you want to know if your marriage will be successful?
Do you want to know
where you will meet your one true love?
Then call me at 1-900-555-YAPP.
Remember, the future is close at hand,
and so is your phone.
So to hear tomorrow's secrets today,
just pick it up.
I know you will.
I can see your future.
I made this!