(theme music playing)
NARRATOR: 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.
(wind whistling)
Oh, what a godforsaken night.
The whole world is swirling with snow ghosts.
WOMAN: Don't talk that way, Henry.
You know it gets me nervous.
lt's snowing. That's all.
Do you know what this Pete Rose is worth, huh?
Would you believe people are waterskiing in Acapulco?
Don't believe everything you read.
Do you think God gets involved
in which people get to own white yachts?
(wind whistling)
Listen to that.
Are those voices from hell or are those voices from hell?
(Henry laughs)
lt's only the wind.
Wind is wind.
Where's Seymour?
(grunts ''l don't know'')
Seymour!
Why are you yelling?
lt's Saturday night!
When l was your age,
that was prime hunting time!
(chuckles)
You wouldn't catch Henry Strand home
on a Saturday night, no, sirree, Bob.
Oh, this rooster was out there crowing.
Cock-a-doodle-doo! (laughs)
Leave Seymour alone.
Why does he have to knit?
Why do you collect pictures
of people in dumb uniforms holding bats?
Seymour has homework to do.
Why doesn't he do it in his own room?
Well, this is as much Seymour's room as anybody's.
l need a quiet house to concentrate, Dad.
Remind me to check his birth certificate.
Those aren't my genes talking.
What a nasty thing to say about your only son.
Now, didn't he knit you that lovely sweater?
lt's warm. l'm cold.
-(Henry groans) -Oh, now calm down, Henry.
You're always this way between the football
and baseball seasons.
-l'm going to walk the dog. -The dog is dead.
lt died last month.
Oh, Lord. l actually forgot.
(wind whistling)
My poor dog.
SEYMOUR: Our poor dog.
The dog was community property.
Maybe we should get a new dog.
(scoffs) Dog dies, get a new dog.
(snaps fingers) Just like that! Hmph!
SEYMOUR: lf you ask me,
l think it committed suicide.
That dog led a marvelous life!
Oh, of course it did.
Seymour is only joking.
l'm surprised it didn't leave a note.
Now, Seymour, stop baiting your father like that.
He only wants what is best for us.
(wind whistling)
Ooh, that wind does sound nasty.
Are you expecting a delivery?
Yes, a Trim Track exercise machine.
HENRY: l see something out there.
Or somebody.
SEYMOUR: lf they're kicking in unison,
it's probably the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes.
WOMAN: Hello?
Don't tell me you didn't hear that.
-Hear what? -Listen.
(wind whistling)
There is something.
(knocking on door)
l've heard about this.
They say their car broke down
and they want to use the phone.
Then you let them in and then they murder you!
-(knocking on door) -Henry, call the police.
And tell them what? Somebody's knocking on our door?
Well, what are we going to do?
Well, we just can't leave people
out in the subzero cold.
(shushing)
lf we're quiet, maybe they'll go away.
Unless they can smell warm blood through aluminum siding.
l'll see who it is.
Use your strong voice.
(deep voice): Who's out there?
WOMAN: Open, please.
lt's a woman.
They use women for bait.
l'll keep the chain on.
Yes?
(Henry yelps)
My floor-- l just had it waxed.
Thousands of pardons, but snow on the floor is good luck.
Look, if you two have come here to sell us something...
(chuckles) well, l can tell you right now, we're not buying.
l assure you, we sell nothing.
l suppose we should have called before dropping in,
but we were so eager to...
Called? Why?
What a lovely room!
Oh! Well... thank you ever so much.
And a fortunate house to have such a charming mistress.
Aw...
Would you like a cup of tea?
Tea?!
Of course, the mandatory cup of tea.
Now, where is the one with the look
of a thousand vacant meadows?
You mean Seymour?
Uh, he was here a minute ago. Seymour!
SEYMOUR: What?
Come down here.
We have company. lt's not polite.
MAN (gasps): The child!
(gong sounds)
Who put you up to this?
What an oversight.
Allow me to introduce myself.
l am Chai Fung, ambassador without portfolio,
from the ancient kingdom of Lo Poa.
This is my associate,
our minister of the interior, Madame Wu.
Wu.
FUNG: She is overwrought.
We spent last night at the Holiday lnn.
lt was so hot, we had to open the windows,
but the windows don't open.
There was glass everywhere.
Uh, l'm Henry Strand.
This is my wife Ellen.
And, uh, you seem to know Seymour.
Only by visions.
l'll get that mandatory cup of tea.
-Uh... -Enough of the amenities.
Time for business.
We want your son.
You want what?
We must have the boy.
(kissing continues)
Stop it, you two!
Do you mind if l sit?
Does this throne vibrate joyously
upon the insertion of a quarter?
What? Oh, sorry, no, no.
No matter.
The truest vibrations of pleasure come from the heart.
Oh, what a nice way to put it.
On the other hand,
the vibrations that can come from a coin can be...
SEYMOUR: Awesome!
The lad is quick-- very witty.
HENRY: What you said just now
about, uh, wanting our son...
ELLEN: There must be some mistake.
Nobody wants Seymour.
Ma!
l mean, he's a late bloomer.
Like his father.
But he knits beautifully.
What do you want him for?
Somebody need a transplant?
(laughter)
Dad!
Nothing like the warmth of a close-knit family,
if l may venture a pun.
But enough humor.
As you may know, last month, our supreme lama,
Hsi Shu'sha went to his reward
when the Moon touched the tip of the sacred mountain.
He was in his hundredth year, give or take.
Oh, l'm so sorry.
ln the Year of the Frog,
which is the 12,000th anniversary of our country,
the great Hsi Shu'sha nodded off into infinite slumber.
Those of us who remained
were called upon to follow the sacred rites
to search for his successor.
We read the stars,
consulted our books of parchment,
drank the pollen of the daisies that grow sideways
and remained pleasantly dizzy
for many weeks.
The Moon, the birds,
all earthly music pointed us here
to this endless prairie of houses
whose levels are split,
and, finally, to this house--
the home of our revered and holy new lama.
(gong sounds)
Seymour?!
(guffawing)
Seymourlama?!
(Henry continues laughing)
(Henry shudders)
Sir, if you laugh,
l will be forced, by tradition,
to eviscerate you and feed your entrails to a mongoose.
Wh-Who-Who's laughing?
And now, for the presentation of gifts.
-ELLEN: Gifts? -(gong sounds)
Madame Wu.
(Fung speaks native language)
Carried across the continents,
priceless treasures from our country
for the fortunate parents of the Chosen One.
ELLEN: Oh, l love surprises.
FUNG: Yak droppings from the privileged yaks
who graze on the north slope of the glorious mountain.
lt's not Everest, but we like it.
You... really didn't have to.
Our next gift.
The final breath of our former lama,
zipped and saved
-(bag pops open) -especially for this occasion.
Seals in freshness.
l knew you'd like it.
Rice from the first crop
following Hsi Shu'sha's journey to the stars.
Holy book?
Recipes for the rice.
And now, for the anticlimax.
(lid creaks open)
Are these real?
l assure you, they are.
HENRY: Diamonds.
Amethysts. Pearls.
FUNG: Mere tokens.
Hints of things to come.
-Huh? -At our lama's coronation,
we go the whole way.
Naturally, you and your husband will be our honored guests.
Lo Poa will be yours.
Lo Poa.
You know, we had that in Geography.
lt's near Tibet.
Nothing like Tibet.
They're Reformed. We are Orthodox.
Mr. Fung?
Do you honestly think
that we would trade our only son for a few trinkets?
Condemn him to an austere life of snow and ice?
A life without... culture?
No, l don't think so.
FUNG: As progenitors of our lama--
the source of the source, if you will--
you and your mate will be dressed in silk and satin,
bathed in the purest yak milk,
given your weight in precious stones,
entitled to a ten percent discount at the bazaars.
(Seymour clears throat, laughs anxiously)
Uh, what about me?
You?
You, Seymour, will be hailed as our heavenly leader.
Your every need will be anticipated and gratified.
Your every utterance will be inscribed by virgin scribes.
Virgin scribes?
And of course, you will have the honor
of eating the bark of a sacred bung tree
and regurgitating into the crater
of our world-class volcano.
Whoa, wait a second. Look, uh...
You can just forget it, okay?
HENRY: Uh, uh, Seymour makes impulsive decisions.
-He's just a kid. -FUNG: Of course.
Madame Wu, time for the Dance of the Stubborn Adolescent.
(Fung speaks native language) ...go, run.
Our weight in jewels!
Silk, satins, yak baths...
Discounts at bazaars.
Oh... l don't know if it's the right thing for Seymour.
SEYMOUR: Do you want to go upstairs
and check out my Beatles records?
Do you think he should be alone with...
Sign here
and make your son the next lama of Lo Poa.
-(Seymour laughs in distance) -Henry, Seymour isn't ready
for a serious relationship.
l really don't think...
-(Madame Wu laughing) -Think of a deep, dark,
''Lo Pee'' mountain tan.
Sign here, Mrs. Strand.
Now, come on, Seymour. Act your age!
(Madame Wu moans passionately)
(gong sounds)
HENRY: Way to go, tiger!
And you said the hospital must've switched babies.
-HENRY: Ellen... -ELLEN (muffled): Yeah?
l told you he had strong genes.
FUNG: Now, splendid Seymourlama,
we must discuss your sacred duties.
You will fly first class on Lo Poa Airlines
to the capital city of Platt for seven glorious days
and six unforgettable nights of coronation excitement.
A multitude of handmaidens will carry you
to the flaming crater of Mount Kong.
(glass shatters)
Look, could we skip the spiritual stuff?
You were lucky enough to find me.
Who needs a coronation?
lt's for your people, Your Generosity.
They don't get much entertainment.
(sighs)
Seymourlama desires a Twinkie.
(wind whistling)
(door opens)
You don't get something for nothing in this world.
No even in ''La Pee.''
Ah, words of wisdom
from the person who claims to be my father.
Unfortunately, l have papers to prove it.
You're being obnoxious.
l have the right to be obnoxious.
Actually, he is correct.
lt goes with the territory.
l'm feeling a little tension.
Listen, l'll do the coronation routine under one condition.
Name it, oh, Brilliant Light in the Dismal Forest.
l want the palace of ''Ly Poa'' wired for sound and cable.
-Wired? What is...? -Stereo.
Quad sound. Television.
FUNG: But, Seymourlama, our mountains
have the best acoustics in the Himalayas.
And we do not watch television.
We watch the seasons go into repeats.
Are you arguing with me?
Would l dare?
Okay, it's settled.
l'll go to the big party.
Thank you, thank you.
-(cracking) -Ow! Easy! That hurt!
MADAME WU: Oh!
What is she doing?
Punishing the hand that damaged the inspired one.
Whoa, whoa! Look... Look, just stop her,
because she's going to get blood all over my wool.
(Fung speaks native language)
(Wu wails)
She must atone in some way.
Heh. Good.
You see those baseball cards?
Find Willie Mays.
And eat it.
But that... that's one of my favorite.
l'm beginning to enjoy this.
FUNG: And it does our hearts good
to see you in ecstasy, master.
Uh, take a proclamation.
Plug up the volcano.
Do what?!
(chuckles)
And, uh, before you cap the volcano,
one final sacrifice.
(gong sounds)
No.
Not your own father.
SEYMOUR: Not him--
his baseball cards.
Every last one of them.
Zap.
(gasps)
Henry can't live without his collection.
Aw.
l'm afraid all requests made by our leader are final.
Well, l'm a leader's mother and l'm telling him to back off.
You were my mother. No more.
Did you people ever consider democracy?
Not until we met him.
Oh, forgive my entrails. What am l saying.
Make me a lap.
(sighs)
He looks so peaceful.
Rest well, noble thing.
l had better call home and tell the prime minister
we have found our new lama.
We could still make the 11 :00 news.
l, uh, assume you're calling Lo Poa.
Of course-- collect.
Talk about long distance.
Operator, sincere greetings.
l would like the area code for Lo Poa.
No, it isn't a suburb.
East.
Further. More.
That's it.
Now, l would like to make a person-to-person call
to the exalted Pahn Dak.
Collect?
FUNG: Collect.
This number--
716-555-0887.
The name of Henry Strand.
255 Daffodil Lane.
Excuse me.
-254 Daffodil Lane. -Ah.
Excuse me. 254 Daffodil...
Never mind.
Excuse me, Mother of Greatness,
but isn't this 255 Daffodil Lane?
l ought to know where l live.
2-5-4.
(speaks native language)
No 55, 54.
Oh, shoot.
l... l don't know how to tell you this.
l hope it's not an inconvenience.
Tell us what?
Hey, hey, wrong house.
MADAME WU: Oops.
(stammering)
But l-l have a parchment.
A contract. l know my rights.
FUNG: l'm very sorry.
-Wait... -No.
Please, please...
No, you-you, what...?
That's our material!
(Henry and Ellen stammering anxiously)
We spent two years looking for sizes!
HENRY: We can work something out!
Good night. Thank you for seeing us to the door.
(wind whistling)
(Seymour yawning)
Seymourlama's waking from his restful, refreshing sleep.
Seymour's hungry.
Seymourlama desires a hamburger,
fries, onion rings, ketchup.
(claps hands) Now!
Get me my food!
Bring me my... whoa.
Get-Get me my...
ELLEN: ls his insurance paid up?
HENRY: He's got two, three weeks of intensive care.
NARRATOR: The dark side is always there.
Waiting for us to enter.
Waiting to enter us.
Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight.