Hunk (1987) Movie Script
(metal clanking)
(waves crashing)
(eerie music)
(yawning and stretching)
(upbeat rock music)
Gettin' pretty tired
of the same old boys
Men who don't do nothin' for me
Baby aren't you tired of a Daddy's boy
When you can play all night with me
Get my hands on a real man
Grab hold and I won't let go
I'm fallin' hard for a real man
Rock solid from head to toe
Little did you know
that I've been growin' up
This little girl is not the same
While you were playin'
cowboys and actin' tough
I had learned to play the game
Get my hands on a real man
Grab hold and I won't let go
I'm fallin' hard for a real man
Rock solid from head to toe
(instrumental)
Get my hands on a real man
Grab hold and I won't let go
I'm fallin' hard for a real man
Rock solid from head to toe
Get my hands on a real man
Grab hold and I won't let go
I'm fallin' hard for a real man
Rock solid from head to toe
Yeah, get my hands on a real man
Grab hold and I won't let go
I'm fallin' hard for a real man
- Now, Mr. Golden, how can I help you.
- Hunk.
Call me Hunk, for now.
- [Susan] Alright.
- Thanks for seeing me
on such short notice.
Nobody else would.
- You made it sound like
a matter of life or death.
- Well, it is.
For him.
- [Susan] Who is he?
- His name is Bradley Brinkman.
- Where is he?
- Right here.
I'm Bradley Brinkman.
On the inside anyway.
- Look, playing at
schizophrenia is not my idea --
- I know, I know, I know.
Look, doc.
Didn't you ever want to
become somebody else?
Somebody exciting?
Somebody fantastic?
I just happened to be that
"somebody fantastic" that
Bradley Brinkman wanted to become.
And then became.
- Somebody with a fantastic imagination.
- I know it sounds crazy, but
you've got to hear my story.
Time is running out
for Bradley and for me.
- Alright, I'll hear your story.
But time is running out for us as well.
So, why don't you just begin
with the first time that
you began to feel ---
- And Bradley Brinkman.
- The first time that
you and Bradley Brinkman
began to feel this way.
- Doctor, if I convince you,
will you take my case?
- I'm listening, Mr. Golden.
- Up until six weeks ago,
I really was Bradley
Brinkman, crack computer hack.
I spent the five years since college
chained to a computer keyboard,
except for my imagination, that is.
- [Hunk] I always daydreamed about being
one of those impossibly cool
guys you see in the movies,
or commercials.
You know, the guys who drive Maseratis
and run major corporations.
The kind that drip with
women and self-confidence.
You know, the guy that look great in those
bikini briefs that ride
up the crack in your buns?
Unfortunately, perpetual daydreaming
didn't look great to my boss,
Constantine Constapopolis
of Constapopolis Computers.
- Daydreams?
I'm paying you to write for me daydreams?
- Hi, Mr. Constapoplis.
Really I just drifted off.
- Yes, way off, Brinkman.
Way off.
Program proposals so bad, the K-9000
shut down with D.I. again.
- Digital Indigestion?
I'll ...
- Camels Are Us, the Bedouin program.
Who's got a camel with a floppy hump?
Look at this one.
Conversational Icelandic.
Who are you going to sell it to?
Penguins on tour?
(girls giggling)
Look at this one.
Sushi Towers: Eat What You Build.
You know your work hasn't
been the same ever since ...
- Suzy eloped.
Suzy eloped with her aerobics instructor.
(crowd chuckles)
I know, I know.
How would you feel if your
girlfriend rejected you
because you didn't wear a
leotard and count during sex?
(crowd giggles)
- I'm running a business here.
You have two weeks.
Two weeks to make a
money-making idea appear,
or else you're off stuffing ...
- [Both] the grape leaves
in my one-eyed father's
Greek restaurant, Cyclops West.
- Thank you, Mr. Constapopolis
for your understanding and generosity.
- Have a good day.
- [Hunk] The new program was due at 9 a.m.
I was desperate for a
concept, any concept.
But everything I wrote read like
a one-way ticket to the souvlaki line
at Cyclops West.
It all seemed beyond hope when
I punched a desperate
plea into the machine.
And then it happened.
- [Susan] What happened?
- [Hunk] Some kind of digital vulture
appeared on my screen.
Then the computer began
writing the program by itself.
(fast playful music)
- [Susan] What program?
- [Hunk] The Yuppie Program.
A multi-compatible
lifestyle budgeting program.
- [Susan] You wrote it?
I can't live without mine.
I saved a fortune stocking
my wine cellar alone.
Not to mention, the compliments I get
for your recipe for microwave pate.
- [Hunk] Like I said,
the computer wrote it
but I got the credit.
I don't know anything about
pate or pasta machines
or the yuppie-ing of suburbia
until I stayed up all
night reading it myself.
- [Susan] Now, wait a minute.
How can a computer write by itself?
- [Hunk] Wait a minute.
You haven't heard anything yet.
I woke up a hero, and
became an even bigger one
when legions of Baby Boomers snapped up
fifty thousand copies
in the first six weeks.
Mom was proud.
Dad was proud.
Heck, even Suzy called to
say she was proud, too,
to have yours truly for
a phenomenally successful ex-boyfriend.
(Constantine laughs)
- [Hunk] Mr. Constapopolis
paid me a giant royalty
and gave me the summer off, with pay,
to write any program I wanted.
(applause)
- [Susan] Sounds wonderful so far.
- All I knew about Yuppies
was they wear Reeboks to bed,
and would hock their health club cards
for ten minutes alone with a Dove Bar.
- [Susan] Mmm. Where
does Hunk Golden fit in?
- [Hunk] At the beach house
I rented in Sea Spray.
- [Susan] Sea Spray?
Pretty swanky place.
- [Hunk] Well, let's
say Sea Spray is swanky
if you've got big bucks to burn.
The only thing swanky about the place
I could afford was the driveway.
The house itself was
the oldest and grungiest
place on Sea Spray beach.
Bye-bye bonus.
(coughing)
(suitcase thuds)
It was built by some old sea captain
who ran out of money and ran out of town
before he could complete
his sailing ship of a house.
It was ideal for investigating the
Yuppies-at-Play lifestyle, in which
I was supposedly an expert.
(dog barks)
I'd leisurely concoct my next program
and spend the rest of my time
making my daydreams come true.
- [Susan] So far, so good.
- [Hunk] Except that I went a bit too far.
Now, there's hell to pay.
(upbeat rock music)
In my daydreams, all I had to do was wink
and the women would come running.
But there wasn't a beach full of
tanned and toned competition, either.
The old bod definitely
could have used a workout.
(doorbell rings)
- [Chachka] These are fabulous.
Little piggy salt and pepper shakers.
I'm gonna add these to my collection.
- Ahem.
- Oh! Welcome to Sea Spray.
Where the well-to-do
do well at doing well.
I'm Polly Clutter, but
everybody calls me Chachka.
- I'm Bradley Brinkman,
but everybody calls me
Bradley.
(laughing)
You're in my living room.
- Thought so.
I saw your car out front.
Is that a loaner while
the BMW's in the shop?
- No, actually ...
- Oh, look.
Somebody is actually gonna
gentrify this old mess.
Good for you.
- Actually, I'm just renting
this old mess for the summer.
- Well, you didn't look like
you could afford to buy.
He started this place and
never quite finished it.
Captain Kravitt.
- How do you know so much
about Captain Kravitt?
- When I was a kid,
I used to hide firecrackers
in his barbecue
and listen for his hot dogs to explode.
He always had a fire going,
that Captain Kravitt.
- No kidding.
- Hey, why don't you go
put on your bathing suit?
Chachka's gonna take you
on a gabby guided tour.
- A gabby guided tour?
- Don't worry about it.
It's free.
- Sounds great.
How come they call you Chachka?
- Oh, my house is full of chachkas.
I collect things.
Knick-knacks, bric-a-brac.
I'm an incurable collector.
When I moved out here from
New York in the Fifties,
the only building on the beach
was my Dad's hot dog stand.
Wee Willy's Weenies.
- Wee Willy's Weenies
All topped with cheese and beanies
- [Hunk and Chachka] Wee Willy's Weenies
I'm getting one today.
Ole!
(laughing)
- In the Sixties, this place was
Buff Bluff Topless Beach.
On a hot day, the boobs were packed
tighter than eggs in your Easter basket.
- Born too late.
- In the Seventies, Mahatma
Maharaji went bankrupt
building the world's first,
and last, condo commune.
Now, we've got Yuppies.
Who's next?
- She is.
- Who?
- Her.
She's not real.
- Where is she?
- Right there, next to those surfers.
- There's just a couple of surfers.
- The most gorgeous creature in the galaxy
is steaming right this way.
- You're imagining this.
(dreamy exotic music)
- Where'd she go?
Where'd she go?
- Hey, take it easy.
She didn't go anywhere
because she was never here.
- She ...
- Hey, hey.
Come on.
Time to meet the heavy
hitters on the social circuit.
Oh, you're in luck.
They're all here.
- Don't worry.
We'll get this one.
- In The Adventures of
Rocky and Bullwinkle,
archvillian Boris Badenov was named
after the title character in what
famous Russian opera?
- Opera? Give me a break.
- Igor Stravinsky, right?
- Igor Stravinsky, wrong.
- Our turn.
- [Alexis] You're the best.
- No, you're the best.
- But you're the cutest.
- You're the cutest.
- [Both] Tie.
(smooching)
- Boris Godunov, right?
- Sea Spray Beach rules
for Trivial Pursuit
prohibit saying the correct
answer to the losing team.
- They might actually
get one right next time.
- [Both] No.
- Who is this guy, Chachka?
- Barry Brinkman.
He just moved in.
- It's Bradley.
Brinkman.
Sorry.
- Bradley, I want you
to meet Coaster Royce,
Wall Street whiz and
youngest vice-president
in the history of
Ratchet, Slammer and Hops.
- Ratchet, Slammer, Hops and Royce,
if I have a say in it.
And I will.
I always do.
- And that jet-set escapee
from East coast old money?
Alexis Cash.
- Ha. Ha.
Where are you moving in, Brinkman?
- The Kravitt house.
- I'm glad someone's going to spruce up
that dilapidated old dump.
(girls giggling)
- Well, actually, I'm just
renting it for the summer.
- Yeah, you didn't look like
you could afford to buy.
Need any cockroach traps?
- Wait a minute.
You're Skeet Mecklenburger, right?
All-Pro Dallas Annihilator
linebacker, right?
- All through linebacker, you mean.
Cut like a rookie on
unconditional waivers.
- Yeah, but I can still cut it with you,
can't I, passion pie?
- With an electric knife, baby.
- You remember Laurel Springs?
Cheerleader queen of
Wednesday Night Football?
- Yeah, I love the light
knockwurst commercial
you guys did together.
- A fan.
How flattering.
You play V-ball, Brinsky?
- V-ball?
Oh, yeah, V-ball.
I'd love to but I haven't
played it in ages.
- Don't worry.
Skeet knows all the rules.
- There are a few Dos and
Don'ts in V-ball, Brinsky.
So let's start with the Don'ts.
(laughing)
You don't reach under the net, eh?
(laughing)
You don't run into the net.
- Ooo.
And you don't kick sand on
and opposing player when he's down.
(laughing)
- Ew.
- Got the picture, Brinsky?
- [Hunk] So what if they all acted like
they hated me from birth?
There was an aura to their arrogance.
I had to fit in.
I yuppied out my house with every
trendy appliance my
credit limit could bear.
So what if this stuff would never fit
in my studio apartment after the summer?
I was living in the moment.
I even personally
stonewashed all my clothes.
I still haven't figured out why.
Sea Spray by night means The Sand Castle.
The men are low on body fat,
the women are high on themselves.
And whatever else is going around.
I was ready for Step Two:
inviting the whole beach to
an open house at my place.
I'd party their asses
off, include myself in
with the In Crowd.
(upbeat dance music)
The Sea Spray crowd
accepts no substitutes.
And I felt like a substitute.
- Hey. Hi, Coaster.
How's it going, guy?
(laughing)
- Where did you get that outfit?
- Well, I got it at
the Sea Spray Galleria.
(scoffs)
Alexis, darling.
Brinkman here went shopping at the
Sea Spray Schlock-eria.
- What's so funny?
We're exactly identical.
- Fat chance.
- [Alexis] Midnight Express for Men.
Made in Turkey.
Poly cotton blend.
- [Both] Eww.
- Oh, Giorgio Spermatucci stonewash.
Spermatucci, my favorite designer.
- They're 100% cotton.
- They stonewash their
denim in synthetic stones.
- Brinkman, a little advice.
The only thing that you'll
lay tonight in that,
is linoleum.
(laughing)
- Oh yeah, you guys.
Here's an invitation to my open house.
Try and drop by.
- Catered no doubt by
(speaking fake French)
Oh, we will be there with bells on.
Bells.
- Ding-a-ling.
- [Hunk] And then I saw her.
Again.
(sensual dance music)
- Are we humping air, Bradley?
- I was dancing with that
incredibly gorgeous woman
from the beach but, she vanished.
- Oh, sure.
How come I can't see her?
Where did she go?
- Hell if I know.
- [Hunk] The final score
for my open house was
Host, one; Guests zero.
Talk about wounded pride,
mine was dead on arrival.
A nightmare of leftover artichoke hearts.
(telephone rings)
- Hello.
Chachka.
(rock music)
Chachka, baby.
How are you?
Oh, fantastic.
Fantastic turnout, yeah.
(silverware clanks on dishes)
Yeah. What?
Oh, you can't make it over?
Hey, we're gonna miss you, yeah.
(imitating party guests)
Hey, great party, Bradley.
Yeah, dude, great party.
(reverts to own voice)
Leftovers?
No, these party animals are pigging out.
Pigging out, yeah.
(laughing)
What?
(music plays louder)
I can't hear you.
You've gotta speak up for me, ok?
I'll talk to you tomorrow, ok?
Yeah, bye.
(music stops)
Any leftovers.
She'll probably be right
over with Tupperware.
(dramatic music)
- Suppose you gave an open house,
and nobody came?
We can't have that now,
can we, computer champ?
- Wait a minute, don't disappear.
Ok, now who are you?
And how do you know so much about me?
Am I the only person who can see you?
- Aroused?
Your curiosity, I mean.
Bradley, a girl in my line
works up a devilish thirst.
Aren't you going to invite
me to stay for a Perrier?
- Well, the food's just
to die for, Bradley.
You know, you could be one fabulous host.
It's a shame you don't recognize it.
- You've had the food
and you've had your fun.
Now, who are you?
- My name's O'Brien.
- Just O'Brien?
- Just O'Brien.
- And where do you live, O'Brien?
- Hell.
I have a large studio apartment.
It's 1700 degrees Fahrenheit.
Of course, I want a one-bedroom
at 2500 degrees Fahrenheit,
or a loft in the Celcius neighborhood,
but anything over 2000
degrees is a fortune.
It's hell to find a
decent place to live ...
in Hell.
- Who writes your material?
David Letterman?
Cute.
Very clever.
What do you want from me?
- Ok, listen up, Bradley.
I'm only going to read you your
Black Magic Rights once.
- Oh.
(laughing)
Sorry.
- Be forewarned.
You are about to be solicited
for a supernatural experience.
You have the right to call an exorcist.
If you cannot afford an exorcist,
one will be appointed to you.
Any black magic covenants
hereafter executed by you
can and will be used to assert
dark dominion over your soul.
Any questions?
- Yeah.
Why me?
- I've had my evil eye on you a long time.
Bradley, you need a friend right now.
Who do you think inspired
the Yuppie program?
- Wait a minute.
This was on my computer.
You possessed my word
processor that night?
- Let's call it temporary occupancy.
- This conversation is
insane and so are you.
- One question, Bradley.
Are you happy you rented
this fabulous house,
so that Coaster Royce
could wipe his TopSiders
on your face at the drop of a Frisbee?
Half the women around here won't give you
the correct time of day
at a Rolex convention?
- Well ...
- I can make you over.
Make you into the kind of man you've
always daydreamed about.
The kind of man women want most
and men want most to be.
A hunk.
Handsome, tanned, toned.
Rich, Bradley.
Successful.
Admired.
- What's all this going to cost me?
- Your soul, silly boy.
And would you believe, right now,
we have a no-obligation,
sell-your-soul-for-the-summer trial offer?
And if you are not 100% satisfied,
your old body and your
old soul will be refunded.
It's a package deal.
- Are you part of the package deal?
- The Devil Himself Incorporated
forbids my dating clients
while their soul is in spiritual escrow.
(laughing)
- The Devil Himself Incorporated.
- The Boss needs tax
write-offs just like you.
- We'll still see each other, won't we?
- Oh, for eternity if you want.
So, give it a go for the summer?
- And now, I'm supposed to
sign something in blood, right?
- A hypodermic pen.
No muss, no fuss.
It's my latest invention.
- Ow!
(laughing)
- Done.
- Now what?
- Now, wait.
A new life and a new body
begin tomorrow at sunrise.
Sweet dreams, Bradley Brinkman.
This may be the last
we see of the old you.
- Bye.
(laughing)
Weird, really weird.
- [Hunk] That night, I had a wild dream.
At least, I thought it was a dream.
(wind howling)
(eerie music)
(thunder crashing)
(muscles groaning)
(waves pounding)
(suspenseful music)
- Oh, man what a nightmare.
(yawning and stretching)
Wait a minute, whose arm is this?
Whose room is this?
(laughing)
Still dreaming.
I'm not dreaming.
This is real.
Where did all this come from?
Oh my God.
O'Brien really did it.
Really did it.
Hey, that's not Oscar.
My best friend since the
seventh grade is missing.
(doorbell rings)
O'Brien?
O'Brien, what the hell ...
Chachka, hi.
- You know me?
I'd remember meeting you.
If you're one of the
leftovers from last night,
I'm gonna kill myself for missing you.
I mean, it.
- Yeah, I was leftover alright.
- Well, is Body -- I mean, Bradley, home?
- Bradley.
No, Bradley is still dreaming, I think.
I mean, he's still
hungover from the party.
- Look, he redecorated the whole place.
- Yeah.
He sure did.
I mean, yes.
Yes, he did.
What are you staring at?
- A real hunk.
I mean, is that your
new car in the driveway?
- New car?
What new car?
- You mean this car?
(laughing)
- No.
This is my Chachka-mobile.
- It's interesting.
The new car is over here.
Is it yours?
- The car of my daydreams.
I mean, I don't know.
- Who are you, anyway?
- I'm not sure.
I mean, Bradley and I are very close.
Listen, have you seen a
woman about five-nine,
dark hair, really gorgeous?
- Not you, too.
- Never mind.
She'll turn up.
I hope.
Wow, look at this stuff.
H.G.?
Who's H.G.?
- [Hunk] Not only was I new to Chachka,
but everything I now owned was new to me.
How you doin', Caesar?
"It's a whole package deal -- O'Brien"
Hunk Golden?
My name is Hunk Golden?
(laughing)
I'm rich.
Whatever happened to Bradley Brinkman?
O'Brien.
O'Brien?
- It was all I could do to keep from
ripping his towel off with my teeth.
- What's his name?
- He didn't say.
- Another renter asshole.
- There he is now.
Yoo-hoo.
Bradley's friend.
Over here.
- Now that's a perfect specimen.
- A man's man-and-a-half.
- He puts you two both to shame.
- Yeah, we'll see about that.
- Hello again.
I didn't catch your name.
- Brad -- Hunk.
My name is Hunk Golden.
- Hunk?
That short for hairdresser or something?
- [Chachka] Hunk, this is Coaster,
Alexis, Laurel and Skeet.
- I feel like I know you already.
- Isn't he charming?
Moving in?
- Or moving along?
- [Hunk] No, actually, I'm
just visiting Bradley Brinkman.
- That scrawny little wuss?
- Actually, I'm just --
- What's the hurry, Murray?
Just so happens, we're looking
for a fourth for v-ball.
- You do know how to
play v-ball, don't you?
- Yeah, somebody gave me a few lessons.
Once.
- [Chachka] Go Hunk.
Go Hunk, go.
- You can serve, can't you?
- Yeah, mind if I practice first?
- Hey, Garth, it's you and me.
One-on-one.
Hope you can handle a good spike.
- Good luck.
- Come on.
Get it up, gorgeous.
- Go Hunk.
Kill him, Hunk.
- I oughta wrap your nuts
around your neck, Twinky-dick.
- No, Skeet.
No.
- Skeet, don't damage the merchandise.
- Skeet, enough's enough.
- Hyah.
- Go, Hunk.
- Out cold.
- Fair fight.
- He's my best friend,
but he can really roar
like an asshole sometimes.
- Where'd you get that whallop?
- That's what I'd like to know.
(upbeat rock music)
- I can't believe you threw
this together in five minutes.
- What a host.
- Odds and ends from the fridge.
- Odds and ends, Alexis.
- Where's Bradley?
- Bradley, he's ... downtown.
Family emergency.
- I want a word with you, Mr. Hunk Golden.
- Last time she had a word with somebody,
he couldn't talk for a week.
Want a cracker?
- I'm not eating.
- Why not, Bubbie?
- I'm fat.
- You're not fat.
- You are not fat.
You're a beautiful gazelle.
- I'm huge.
- You're not huge.
- You're the most beautiful
thing in the world.
- I'm a beached whale.
- You're not a beached whale.
- I'm very sorry about Skeet.
I don't know my own strength.
How is he?
- Unconcious.
Under a twenty pound ice pack.
You ape.
- I'm an ape?
- I've never seen anything
so savage in my entire life.
Who do you think you are?
- Do I know?
I just met myself for
the first time today.
- You know what somebody ought to do
to a human bastard like you?
- No.
- Somebody should thank you
for putting that big lummox in his place.
You're a walking Chuck Norris movie
and I'm not waiting til
you're out on video cassette.
- In case you haven't noticed,
this house is full of guests.
- And all the women want to take you South
of the Mason-Dixon line.
- Things like this never
happen to Bradley Brinkman.
- Why worry about that little old tadpole?
We got a bigger fish to fry.
(giggles)
- Where's you learn to jockey this bed?
- Dallas General Hospital.
Before becoming an
Annihilator cheerleader,
I was stripped of my candy stripes.
- Once a candy striper,
always a candy striper.
That's what I say.
- You want to see my stripes?
Ok.
(bed vibrating)
Do a physical.
- Oh I can see them just fine.
(upbeat rock music)
(vibrated moaning)
(table thuds)
- Oh!
- Ah!
- Oo!
(waves crashing)
- What a difference a day makes.
- It's about time.
Where is Bradley Brinkman?
- You're still Bradley inside,
only now you're getting results.
- I thought you were some gorgeous kook,
not Satana, Queen of Darkness.
- Relax.
Enjoy living in this gorgeous
new chassis for a while.
- You know, I drank eight martinis,
I'm not even hungover.
- That's nothing.
Tomorrow, you'll begin
new body orientation.
Are you going to be surprised.
- What about my old body?
- The trial offer expires
the midnight after Labor Day.
But you'll never go back.
Nobody does.
Trust me.
I designed you myself.
- [O'Brien] You've got the
thighs of Sylvester Stallone,
the pelvis of Elvis Presley,
the naval of Arnold Schwartzenegger,
the nipples of Robert Redford,
they eyes of Paul Newman
and the schlong of King Kong.
I gave you Perma-Firm flesh,
wrinkle-proof Perma-Tan skin.
Unfrizzable hair, unbreakable bones.
Self-cleaning, cavity-proof teeth.
Odorless sweat.
When you die, your soul
lives on in Hell in Hunk form
for eternity.
(upbeat disco music)
Destiny
Can it be time for me?
Can it be?
You waited patiently
Destiny
- [O'Brien] Gorge yourself on
the most fattening food in all creation
and never gain weight.
Destiny
Can't stop because we're movin'
To our destiny
- [O'Brien] Chug twelve
times the alcohol capacity
of a person twice your size.
You liver was designed by Dean Martin.
And, to protect our evil investment,
you're a natural martial arts master.
Just ask Skeet.
I saw you
I knew I had to have you
You're my kind of man
Destiny
My life's an open book
- [O'Brien] Let's not forget why
we packaged you so stunningly.
Women.
You'll be a moving target from now on
for anyone who loves lucious looking men.
Destiny
Sweet destiny
- [O'Brien] You're bound to overdo the
super-stud bit at first, but you'll know
when enough is enough.
It's destiny
- [O'Brien] Worship thy wheels.
A hunk is naked without his car.
Sweet destiny
- [O'Brien] And do everything first.
A hunk sets trends.
Destiny
Sweet destiny
- [O'Brien] Underdress to impress.
A hunk looks his best when he looks
like he doesn't care how he looks.
Sweet destiny
- That is the most incredible, ridiculous
preposterous story I have ever heard.
- But it's true.
- Realize, I just taped
your entire session.
On the basis of that
alone, I could have you
held for observation at any mental ward
in Los Angeles County.
But that's what fascinates me.
You sound deluded, but something inside me
tells me you're not.
- Yeah, well, the me
inside me knows I'm not.
What if she has a demonic whim
and turns me into a hamster?
Or a high school driver's ed instructor?
- Don't panic, Hunk.
Do I believe you?
No.
Can I help you to help yourself?
Maybe.
- Alright, where do I start?
- You say you're Bradley Brinkman.
And that Bradley Brinkman's dream is
to become a hunk, right?
- Right.
- So be a hunk.
There's nothing wrong with that while
we're getting to the real
root of your problem.
- You know, maybe if
you could meet O'Brien
that would prove everything.
- I doubt whether O'Brien
or Bradley Brinkman exist
outside of your imagination.
So, until our next
session just lighten up.
There are worse fates than being
a drop-dead gorgeous guy with
a pad at the beach, you know.
- Yeah.
You know something, doc?
You're right.
- My clients and my friends call me Sunny.
(upbeat disco music)
Music plays and I react
I'm always first up to the floor
The way I move's a natural act
Always make me wanting more
Don't stop
I never had such a feeling
When I'm dancing
I look at you and believe that
You're the one
Blinded by your magic spell
You have got me hypnotized
When you hold me you can tell me
One of your fantastic lies
Don't stop
I never had such a feeling
When I'm dancing
I look at you and believe that
You're the one
I never had such a feeling
- I'll be right back
after I powder my nose.
- Promise?
Whoa.
Chickie chickie chickie dear,
the sea won't you talk to me?
Aw, come on, babe.
Save that cold fish
stuff for all these nerds
and tuna into me, Sushi-tail.
(laughing)
What's wrong?
Catfish got your tongue, huh?
- [Laurel] Skeet.
- Whoops. Gotta go.
I just love raw fish.
- Was Skeetsy-Weetsy a good widdle boy
while Mommy powdered her nosey-wosey?
- The goodest.
- I'll bet.
- Excuse me.
(laughing)
- [Hunk] Hey, Marty?
How about a Campari
with a splash of orange?
(whispering)
(gasps)
(giggles)
- So, how was the Catch-of-the-Day?
- Pretty fresh.
- Pretty fresh?
Hey, I promised you
Paradise and I delivered.
- I know, I know.
A life of earthly
pleasures in exchange for
and afterlife with the eternal infernal
god of hellfire and staff, right?
- Somebody mention me?
- Hunk, meet the chairman of the board of
The Devil Himself Incorporated.
Dr. D, the Devil himself.
- The Devil is a doctor?
- A doctor of death.
Sworn to the hypocritic oath,
to take life whenever possible.
- Wait, wait a minute.
You look just like the guy
that used to own this house.
That Captain Kravitt guy.
- Oh, I look like many different
people throughout history.
All of them rotten.
- Is that why you're
dressed like Genghis Khan?
- Attila the Hun.
We're sacking Rome in 451 A.D.
Actually, I just popped
in for a Coke Classic.
- Who's she?
- Shebia, a little Roman
slave girl I rescued
to keep me warm at night.
She only speaks Latin, I'm afraid.
E pluribus unum, my dear.
- Wait a minute.
Wait a minute, wait a minute.
451 A.D.?
That's fifteen centuries ago.
- Well, if history's
going to repeat itself,
I have to keep evil going in the past
as well as the present and future.
This is the worst demon
power shortage we've had
since everyone went holy
for the blasted Crusades.
That's why I want you.
- Me.
- Yes, you.
In another fifty years,
you'll be assisting
all the biggies of badness.
Ivan the Terrible,
Jack the Ripper,
Benito Mussolini,
and first dibs on delectable
fringe benefits, too, my boy.
Now, O'Brien.
If you need me on Monday,
I will be at the French Revolution
beheading ambassadors.
Tuesday, champagne with
Cain for killing Abel.
Wednesday night,
polo with the Four
Horsemen of the Apocolypse.
Thursday, the 1906 San
Francisco earthquake.
What a blast that was.
Friday, oh Friday.
I sink Atlantis for the weekend.
I can't wait for that.
- What happens to her?
- I'll probably kill
her in the Trojan War,
or turn her into a hula-hoop in the 1950s.
I haven't decided which yet.
- Kill her?
- Alright, I'll kill her.
A hula hoop too cruel,
even for me.
- No, no.
I didn't mean to kill her, no.
- Don't be so squeamish, my boy.
There are victims all through history.
My victims, O'Brien's victims, and soon
your victims.
- The body count is the
bottom line in our business.
- This is beginning to sound like
a horror film here, O'Brien.
- I always say, "Art imitates Death."
Have a happy, Hunk Golden.
I'll meet you back here
midnight after Labor Day
to close the deal.
We'll be expecting appalling, horrible
horrifying, ghastly things from you.
Ciao, baby.
- I assist Ivan the Terrible?
- It's no biggie.
So, every few centuries,
you re-perpetuate evil
somewhere in history.
- Oh, I'm a time-traveling
satanic salesperson?
Like you?
- Right.
Then we can be together forever.
Think of it.
December 6, 1941.
We hit Tokyo to scarf some sake and sushi
in time to bomb Pearl
Harbor on December 7th.
Talk about romantic.
- [Hunk] I finally meet a beautiful woman
and she wants me to bomb Pearl Harbor.
"Talk about romantic."
- You met the Devil?
- Everything was going like a charm, too,
just like O'Brien said it would.
- And what did the Devil look like?
- His name is Dr. D.
He was dressed like Attila the Hun.
- Attlia the Hun?
- He had this captive
Roman slave girl with him
named Chinchilla, or something.
- Well, she'll never be
cold with a name like that.
- He's going to kill her
during the Trojan War
or turn her into a hula-hoop in the 1950s.
He'll do it, too.
- I'm sure he will.
- I'm going to travel through time, too.
- Hunk?
- Yeah.
- Have you been taking drugs?
- For what?
I was flying high on my
own til Dr. D showed up.
- Maybe we should have our
next session at your house.
- Oh, you make house calls?
- No, not normally.
I think something at the Sea Spray setting
might reveal clues that I
just can't discover here.
- Still think I'm joking, don't you?
- I think your panic is genuine.
I'm just not so sure about the source.
- If I could only get you
and O'Brien in the same room.
She's Exhibit A-plus.
- How is Tuesday at ten?
- Good.
(doorbell rings)
- Doc.
I mean, Sunny.
Come in.
I had a late night.
- So it seems.
- Air Deutschland.
The Messerschmidt Sisters.
Ursula
und Ulla.
Ich bin ein Berliner.
They followed me home from the 7-11
and sang Beatles songs
through the door to me
in German until I let them in.
- Hmm.
It's all part of observing you in your
supernatural habitat.
- Touche.
- Well, where were we, doc?
- Let's get you out in public.
I want to see your hunk magnetism at work.
- The beach, perfect.
(telephone rings)
Hang on.
Hello?
- Bradley?
It's Constapopolis calling.
And how is doing our little genius, eh?
- It's my boss, Bradley's boss.
Constantine Constapopolis.
Hello, Mr. Constapopolis.
How are Demetria, Demetrius
and Constantine Jr. ?
- Is this Bradley Brinkman?
- [Hunk] Of course.
- It don't sound like you, Bradley.
- He doesn't believe I'm Bradley.
- Makes two of us.
- I'm going to try to do my own voice.
One minute, Mr. C.
Doorbell.
(practicing)
"Hello Mr. Constapoplis.
"Yes, Mr. Constapopolis.
"You're right, Mr. Constapopolis."
Thanks for the baklava.
Everything was fantastic.
- That's my Bradley.
So, have you written Program X yet?
No, don't tell me.
Don't tell me.
I'll wait til you come
back after Labor Day, huh?
- Program X.
Labor Day.
Right, right.
Everything's coming along just fine.
- Listen, the distributors
need it by November.
So, you must deliver it after Labor Day.
No pressure of course.
(laughing)
- No sweat.
No pressure at all.
Coming up right after Labor Day.
- Good.
Tell me, Bradley.
What is it?
Give me a hint, just a tiny little ...
No, no, don't tell me, no.
Just a little hint?
Come on?
- And ruin the surprise?
- And ruin the surprise.
You're a genius.
A genius, you hear me?
Bradley, I kiss you.
(typing)
And ruin the surprise.
- Hi, Garrison Gaylord here.
This week on "Filthy Rich,"
we scamper along the
sleek, chic, sunny shores
of the Greek Island of Infano,
A millionaire's paradise.
- Cut.
- What?
- Number one, Garrison,
your fly is open.
- Oh.
- And two, last week was Infano.
This week we're in Sea Spray,
home of the Polar Ice Cap you're drinking.
- Alright, alright, alright.
I've got it now.
- You've got it?
- Yes, I've got it.
- Ok, that's take two.
- I can't believe I forgot all about
that new program I was --
I mean, Bradley, was supposed to write.
- Do you see how this obsession with
an imaginary personality torments you?
Let it go.
- Sunny, Bradley is not imaginary.
- I'm ready.
- [Director] Roll tape.
"Filthy Rich," take twelve.
- Hi, Garrison Gaylord here.
This week on "Filthy Rich,"
we scamper along the sleek, chic
sunny shores of Sea Spray,
home of the Polar Ice Cap I am drinking.
- No, not again, Garrison.
- It was the same blinking thing
I did in Monaco.
- No.
In Monaco, you set the Duchess
of Dungmore's wig on fire.
Do you remember?
- Yes.
- I do.
That's a break, everybody.
Cut.
Get him into wardrobe.
- My wardrobe is back in my motel room
so that your wardrobe person
won't starch my collars into cardboard.
- Alright, the next set
is at the end of the pier.
- We have no proof that any afterlife
or any afterdeath exists.
- I'm proof, Sunny.
- Mortality means living who you are
and loving who you are, right now.
How else can anyone love you?
- Excuse me.
- I'm sorry.
- Wasn't that Garrison Gaylord?
- I don't know.
- Huh.
- Anyway, what I was going to say ---
- My bleeding driver's never here.
I'll do it myself.
Ow.
(tires screech)
- Here comes Garrison.
He's in reverse and out of control.
- If he kills himself on camera,
the ratings are gonna soar.
- You want it, you shoot it.
(tires screech)
(screaming)
- Watch out.
- There is a dark power, Sunny.
I'll prove it to you, somehow.
- Hey, you two.
Watch out.
(brakes squeal)
- [Director] Whoo- hoo!
I got the whole thing on tape.
Oh, baby.
- That is one of the most
astonishing feats I have ever seen.
- Congratulations, guy.
You're a hero.
- A superhero.
He saved us all.
- Need anymore proof, Sunny?
- What's your name?
- Hunk.
Hunk Golden.
- [Garrison] The Incredible Hunk?
I can't bear it.
Are you two married?
- No, I'm his psychologist, actually.
- [Garrison] Even better.
(triumphant music)
- Pumping that much adrenaline
makes any man a super man.
- Adrenaline won't stop a jeep.
- You just saved my life.
Look for your answers in that.
Hunk Golden is a hero
for a very good reason.
The messge is simple.
The world needs you.
The world needs to believe in someone
who rises about the ordinary.
That someone is you.
- I'd really go mad without you, Sunny.
Look, I'd better go.
UCLA is running some more tests.
Thank you for saving my life.
Same time Tuesday?
- You make you feel like your only client.
- I try to make them all feel like that.
- You sure about that?
- No.
(slow romantic music)
We can't.
I can't help you like this.
You're a very attractive man.
Inside, not just outside.
You go now.
- Wait and see.
Til Tuesday.
- Think you hooked him?
- The cheap stunt was the clincher.
- He's a bright boy.
The kind I need to start World War Three.
There's just one teensy little problem.
- What's that?
- You're in love with
another one, O'Brien.
- I am not in love with Hunk.
- Promises, promises.
You always come on like gangbusters,
then you fall in love with the poor slob,
and then you end up talking him out of ---
You've cost me a fortune
in special effects.
- Can a Sorceress help it if she gets
emotionally involved with her work?
Soul seduction is draining.
- Oh, whatever happened
to the bad old days?
Like when you had that idea
about the Bermuda Triangle?
A biodegradable death
zone with great fishing.
I was so proud of you.
- I hid Al Capone's secret vaults
from Geraldo Rivera, didn't I?
- That's right.
You did.
Poor Geraldo.
I just loved that.
- Besides, Hunk is
falling right into line.
- That's true.
He's rich, he's famous.
He's falling in love.
He'll never want to change back again now,
now that he's fallen in
love with you, Doctor.
- Hunk's ours.
I think.
- You think?
You think.
I've warned you about these trial offers.
Your deal expires the day
after Labor Day, too, O'Brien.
Don't forget that.
Another failure and I'll
have to turn you back ---
- No, no.
Not that.
Just give me another year.
Another six months.
- Look at you.
Love.
You reek of it.
You owe me a soul a century.
You are owed for 99 years.
No soul, no deal.
No deal, no O'Brien.
- Ok, look.
I made Hunk fall in love with Susan.
- And not vice versa.
- Not vice versa.
Sunny convinces him to keep the deal.
And then what happens to Sunny?
- Sunny, what's sunny?
Sunny?
The Tuesday after Labor Day,
Sunny disappears.
He never sees her again.
- Hunk will be heartbroken.
- Well, if you're not in love with him,
it won't matter, will it?
- If he ever finds out,
he's going to hate me forever.
- Well, that could be arranged.
I'll be watching you, O'Brien.
Heil Hitler.
I wish I could have mastered
that clicking business.
Ciao, sweetheart.
(trumpet fanfare)
- Garrison Gaylord here.
Two weeks ago on "Filthy Rich,"
we showed you a real-life act
of super-heroism as it unfolded
right before our cameras.
In the two weeks since,
Hunk Golden, the superman
who saved my life,
has become the stuff of American legend.
The "Filthy Rich" camera crew and I
shared it with him.
(crowd cheers)
Hunkmania is sweeping Sea Spray
and the rest of the country.
Hunk wannabes camp around
his home, 24 hours,
desperate for just a
look at the Hunk himself.
Hunk's sport coat is the brand-new look,
the fashion look of the 1980s.
- [Garrison] Promotional
offers have been flooding in
since Day One, from
designer jeans to dog food,
from health clubs to hemmorhoids.
Hunk's name is indeed Golden.
Three million to be the new James Bond.
Four million to lose to
Stallone in "Rocky 5."
Playboy wants him.
Playgirl wants him.
Meteoric fame has already forced Hunk
into self-imposed seclusion.
Constantly at his side
throughout the dizzying siege,
is Los Angeles psychologist
Susan "Sunny" Graves,
who he rescued.
Are they in romantic cahoots?
Will success spoil Hunk Golden?
Close friends say he's changed already.
(telephone ringing)
- UPI, shmoopy-eye.
I think I hear AP calling.
Hunk Golden.
Yeah, yeah.
Hunkburger franchises.
I'm sorry, I'm sold out til 1992.
(telephones ringing)
- [Hunk] Hunk Golden.
Yes, Senator.
No, I've already been asked to be put
on the State Flag of Hawaii, but --
- [Girl] Hunk? Hunk?
- Can you hang a second, Senator?
Impressive little thing, aren't you?
There you go.
(screaming)
People are always dropping in.
No, Senator.
I couldn't pick a favorite state.
Of course, if you'd like to sponsor a bill
putting me on the American flag,
I'd have no objections.
(telephones ringing)
God damn it, Sunny.
These people are just
like a bunch of pirhana.
Bite, bite, bite.
(crowd cheering)
- Oh, come on, just --
- No, I've had it, ok?
Watch this.
Waiting for something from Hunk Golden?
Well, here it is.
A person-to-person message.
Stay the hell away from here.
(crowd screaming)
Take that, fat boy.
- [Sunny] Stop it, Hunk.
That's not funny.
Hunk, stop it.
Do you want to go on the
Six O'Clock News doing this?
- Sure I do.
I love the publicity, honey.
- Give me this.
Give it to me.
- Fine, just fine.
(slow sad music)
(waves crashing)
- You can't let it get to you like this.
- I'm starting to feel different inside,
almost like a demon.
- Demons don't exist,
just people and pressures.
- You know you've made it
when your garbage is front page news.
Extra: Hunk tosses Lean Cuisine,
cappucino grounds and a
pint of Praline Tofutti.
Read all about it.
- It won't always be like this.
You won't always live
under the media microscope.
It will cool off.
And then we'll have --
And then you'll have your privacy again.
- You can say "we."
We're in this together.
- And after Labor Day tomorrow,
we'll be out of it together.
You'll finally be Hunk
Golden in your own right.
- I kind of like being in it together,
with someone like you.
- So do I.
But, there are better things
to be in together than this, you know.
(romantic music)
(laughing)
- That's more like it.
(glass shatters)
(laughing)
- Hunk, wake up.
It's me.
Your old body?
The body you're on
vacation from, remember?
- Where the hell have you been?
- Exactly.
Hell.
I escape all day
while watching "The
Possessed and the Restless."
- Hold on just a minute.
Sunny, Sunny, Bradley's here.
Wake up.
- Hunk, I don't have much time.
- Why were you in Hell?
- Where else were they going to hold
this body in escrow while you decide
who to boff next?
- That's not fair.
- What a sleazebag you've become.
Hosing down innocent fans.
- How do you know that?
- How'd I know that?
You're running as a
mini-series on Demon TV.
Killer ratings.
Everyone down there is ripping
off their coat sleeves.
- I don't know what's happening to me.
- The hell you don't.
Evil has taken root in your soul.
It used to be such a nice soul.
Lonely, but nice.
(demons screaming)
- What's that?
- It's them, it's them.
I came to warn you.
Dr. D. is for real, and so is Hell.
Hunk, I know you can feel it already.
- [Hunk] Sunny, you're missing it.
Wake up, wake up.
- Forget about her and
think about our future.
It is slime-time down there.
Ex-game show hosts,
used car salesmen,
TV spokesmodels.
Even Mrs. Kreppel.
Yes, Mrs. Kreppel, that
ninth grade Biology bitch
that flunked us, twice?
- What should I do?
- Think.
Think if it's worth it.
- [Hunk] What about Sunny?
I'm in love with her.
It's what we've always wanted.
- Don't you think I can feel that?
A lifetime with her is a one night stand
compared to an eternity of evil.
Hunk, I know you.
I know you'll make the right decision.
(demons screeching)
- Bradley!
Sunny's got to see this.
Sunny, wake up.
- What is it?
- Bradley was just here.
They came and carried him back to Hell.
Come on, see for yourself.
- I was in such a deep sleep.
- I know, I know.
Look, Sunny.
- You woke me up to show
me the bedroom door?
- No, no.
Just a minute ago, these arms came
and punched holes right through the door
and pulled Bradley right
back through the wood.
- Honey, you were just dreaming.
- How the hell did I get this
splinter in my finger, huh?
- I don't know.
I don't know how.
- From the hole in the door.
- Hunk, the only hole in
this room is in your head.
Look, you're just upset because your whole
Bradley fantasy shatters to bits tomorrow.
- Sunny, don't be mad at me, ok?
- I'm not mad at you.
I just want us to get past this.
I want it to be the two of us,
not the three of us.
- You know you're the best thing
that ever happened to me, right?
- Why don't we shower and
go have some breakfast, huh?
- Yeah, I'll join you in a second.
- Good.
(waves crashing)
- Get in.
- What are you doing here?
- I was swimming kosher hot dogs
from Miami to Havana for Fidel
during the Cuban Missle Crisis,
when Brinkman escaped.
- Spritual separation anxiety.
His good half is so strong.
- Yes, so don't wimp out.
Good move, suggesting breakfast.
Listen, don't let him
sleep before midnight.
- He's still tipped in our direction.
- Yes, but one more silly, sappy
sentimental dream and he'll
back out at the last second.
- Talking to me, honey?
(imitating Sunny)
- I'm singing in the shower, dear.
Keep him awake, he's ours.
- Right.
- Well, doesn't sound like singing to me.
- Then you weren't listening.
(romantic music)
I love you.
- Great breakfast.
- Mm-hm.
- Sweetheat, I'm still a little jangled
from Bradley last night.
Mind if I take a nap?
- I think a nap's a good idea.
You want to be in tip-top shape
when they present you with
the key to Sea Spray at the club tonight.
- Right.
- Sweet dreams.
Bye, Hunk.
(upbeat playful music)
(machines whirring)
(telephones ringing)
- Hello?
Hello? Hello?
(waves crashing)
- Hi.
- Hi.
- What happened to your nap?
- Sabotaged.
After you left, every
appliance in the house
turned itself on.
I couldn't turn them off.
I mean, don't you hear it?
- Hear what?
- It stopped.
- Hunk, are you having another dream?
- No, no, Sunny.
I never went to sleep.
Ten minutes ago, they were all
running without electricity.
- Nothing runs without electricity.
- Yeah.
- You still haven't written your
acceptance speech for the banquet.
- Sunny, forget about the banquet.
You're meeting the Devil
tonight at midnight.
- Settle down.
- Maybe O'Brien too.
- Alright.
Suppose I do meet the Devil.
Who are you going to choose?
Me or Bradley?
I love you so much, Sunny.
I still don't know.
(swinging jazz music)
- Let's get another shot
of us shaking hands.
- Why not?
- What time is it?
- It's two minutes later than
the last time you asked me.
It's ten thirty-two.
- We have to meet Dr. D. at midnight.
I'm going to sleep tomorrow
no matter who I am.
- And I'll be with you.
- No matter who I am?
- You'll be Hunk, you'll see.
- I sure with O'Brien could see me
getting the key to the city.
- I'm sure she's watching.
- Look at that sap.
Reminds me of the cocktail lounge
on the Luisitania.
Happy memories.
Bon Appetit.
(silverware clinks on glassware)
- Attention everybody.
It's award time.
As president of the Sea
Spray Homeowners Association,
it is my honor to honor one of our own.
A man I am proud to call my friend.
When he first appeared here in Sea Spray,
I realized he was someone very special
and now the world knows it too.
- What a phony.
(applause)
- Hunk, we're presenting you with
the key to Sea Spray tonight,
but you'll never have to use it.
Why?
Because our homes and hearts
are open to you forever.
(applause)
- Little bit corny, but the crowd digs it.
What do they know?
(applause)
Hunk Golden, please step
forward for the presentation.
(applause)
And if I may say so,
this key is nothing compared to the lady
who is the sunny-side in Hunk's life,
Dr. Sunny Graves.
(applause)
And here to present the key
is the honorary mayor of Sea Spray,
the star of America's favorite
light knockwurst commercials,
Skeet Mecklenburger.
(applause)
- Thank you.
(clapping)
Hunk, everybody here knows
that I hated you on sight,
but I've got to hand it to you.
You did put me in my place.
(applause)
We called you a superman for doing it.
Somehow, it seems a super
guy deserves more than a key.
He deserves a crown.
(audience gasps)
- Skeet, what have you done?
We have t-shirt rights.
Hell of a superman.
- If that Skeet screws up my plans,
I'll bring him back as a whoopie cushion.
- Hunk? Hunk, wake up.
- Will somebody wake that sucker up?
I need him.
Come on.
You've gotta wake up.
(explosion)
(gunfire)
- Brilliant stroke, Hunk.
Making our Devil's
Brigade raid on Sea Spray
look like an enemy sneak attack.
- I promised you World
War Three by dinnertime.
- All those Yuppie snobs
you hated are dead meat now.
Dead meat now.
Did you kill them all yourself?
- [Hunk] Shucks, Dr. D.
- Don't be modest.
- Maybe just a little bit.
(imitating a machine gun)
- Calm it down, calm it down.
Good boy.
There's just one little formality.
Before you can truly commit
your soul to my wicked work,
you must get rid of your better half.
We have all the fixings right here.
That sappy, sentimental side of your soul
must be destroyed.
You have anything to say
for yourself, Brinkman?
- Hunk, don't do this to us.
All evil and no play
makes Hunk a dull demon.
- Ready?
- You're gonna miss me.
The good things are what life's all about.
You can't want to be the guy who
started World War Three.
- Aim.
- All this just to get laid more
and to guest-host on the Carson show?
Please, give an innocent
better half a break.
- My favorite word.
Fire.
- Hunk, please.
No.
(gunshots)
- Fire.
Fire!
You're still alive.
- Of course we're still alive.
- Except for the people
that ate the roast beef.
- For a second there,
I was kissing all my --
your investments goodbye.
- What happened?
- Skeet crowned you with
the key to Sea Spray.
Are you alright?
- Yeah.
What time is it?
- My watch stopped.
- It's ten minutes to midnight.
- Oh, God.
- Hunk, come on.
Enough for one day.
- I have an appointment with Dr. D.
- Hunk, you could have a concussion.
- Come on, before it's too late.
- Wait a minute.
The key, the presentation.
Where are you going?
- [Hunk] To the Devil.
- [Both] Our investments.
- No way I'm gonna be the guy
who started World War Three.
- How can you say you started a war
that hasn't even begun?
- In the future it has, Sunny.
It starts right here in Sea Spray.
- Well, it's almost midnight.
Who are you going to
be one minute from now?
- Bradley Brinkman.
- What?
- Sunny, I know if you truly love me,
the me inside is not
going to matter to you
if I come packaged in a
different kind of body.
- I do love you.
I love what's inside, but Hunk,
sometimes you have to accept who you are.
- You know, sometimes you
sound just like O'Brien.
The only limitation in
our relationship is that
you can't understand
what I've been through.
When you meet Dr. D a
few seconds from now,
you will though.
Come on.
(eerie suspenseful music)
- I told you he'd be here, Sunny.
- Is this some kind of trick?
- I wish it were.
Come on.
(demons screaming)
- There you are.
While you away, I whipped
up a few little goodies
to celebrate closing our deal.
- Dr. D. at your service, Sunny.
- Impeccable service it is, too.
Cannibal Canapes?
All-white meat missionary,
no agnostic fillers.
Fantastic Titanic iceberg lettuce salad,
killer tomatoes and
deviled eggs a la moi.
- There's no deal, Dr. D.
- What?
- A life of selfish pleasure
and an eternal afterlife
as one of your henchmen
is a rotten exchange.
I want Sunny to meet O'Brien right now.
- O'Brien will be around.
Let's not talk about O'Brien.
Why let a few dreams
scare you when you can be
a living nightmare yourself?
- I want to be Bradley Brinkman again.
Why can't O'Brien be here to see this?
- Oh, she'll see it alright.
So be it.
Exit Hunk Golden,
enter Bradley Brinkman.
(electronic pulsing hum)
- This is Bradley Brinkman.
This is me.
It had to be this way, Sunny.
- The game is up for her,
too, Bradley Brinkman.
- What?
Come out, come out, wherever you are
- What?
(laughing)
- The Devil made her do it.
- I thought that you loved me.
- I did.
I do.
Bradley, you made the right decision.
All the dreams were true.
I had to lie to get you to close the deal.
You believed in your old self more.
- And I believed in you.
Now what?
- Dismissal.
- My deal's off too.
- Your deal?
- A fabulous deal,
until she got sentimental and sloppy.
- I had to land a soul
a century for Dr. D.
That was my deal.
- She hasn't made a score since
Otto von Bismarck in 1887.
- I'm too much a romantic to keep
recruiting nice guys for the Devil's work.
Nice guys like you.
- Then why do you keep doing it?
- I was afraid.
I am afraid
to be the real me.
The one that sold her soul
to Dr. D. in the first place.
- Wait a minute.
You're Sunny, or you were.
You were the one who taught me that
people exist on the
inside, not on the outside.
Even if it was to deceive me,
the love I felt from you came
from some wonderful person.
I think.
- I'm really touched.
I'm very touched.
But if you'll excuse me,
I have to catch an ill wind to Beirut.
Since it's Hitler's birthday,
I'll make you one last offer.
Six month extension to
make good on being bad.
- [Bradley] No way.
- Six months?
- No, don't.
Whoever you are, or were,
don't be afraid.
There is a person inside of you
who is warm and loving.
I know, I felt it.
- O'Brien?
Remember how lonely you were?
- You can't be lonelier than running
a time-traveling
sell-your-soul-to-Satan service.
- Well ...
- Don't be afraid to be the
person who you are inside.
- Strong enough to come back to Earth
as yourself used to be?
- I was.
- I'm staying with ---
- Unlimited credit on an Inferno Card?
- I'm staying with Bradley.
- Yes.
- Oh to heaven with both of you.
I'll have plenty of takers
across the centuries
to carry out my master plan.
To make all the happy
endings in history evil ones.
Like all those Lassie movies.
So be it.
(electronic pulsing hum)
There she is .
Princess Lucilla of Lumpshire,
just as I found her in the 10th Century,
after her father sold her to the Vikings.
Nine centuries of vicious, vile training,
down the tubes of time.
- Lucilla?
Why did your father sell you?
- I wasn't as beautiful as my sister,
Princess Cassava, so I
sold my soul to Dr. D
to escape and become beautiful.
Like you.
- You're a princess.
- A princess without a
castle, without a job.
Well, I'm going.
- Who's side are you on this time?
- What does it matter,
so long as mankind is miserable.
Ciao.
- So, you've been ---
- Returned to Earth, to live
out the rest of my mortal life.
Like you.
- Like me.
Who would ever believe this?
- You would, Bradley.
(waves crashing)
- Oh my goodness, Bradley?
What about your program?
It's due today.
- It came to me last night,
when I met the real you.
- What is it?
- The Princess Program:
How to Live Royally on
a Regular Week's Pay.
What do you think?
- What do I think?
Bradley?
- Hm?
Are you disappointed?
- Disappointed with what?
- That you gave up the new you
and ended up with the old me,
always second best?
- You're second best?
Never.
Not nine hundred years ago,
not now,
not ever.
(romantic music)
- Funny.
Hunk disappears and
Bradley Brinkman returns.
They both were always looking
for the same woman, too.
- And it looks like Brinkman
finally got himself a girl.
- [Chachka] What'd you expect?
Hunk must have rubbed off on him.
I wake from what seemed a dream
But things are not what they seem
Follow your heart
And take a second look at us now
When you wish upon a dream
Make believe
Make it your destiny
Too busy living while life passes by
Dreams are not what they seem
Underneath there's a dream
Don't be afraid to take
a second look at us now
Let your inside out
For the world to see
Discover my soul in your fantasy
(instrumental)
Visions of tomorrow
We forgot to dream today
Why waste your life away
See yourself in a different light
Through your magic eyes can't you see
Things are not what they seem
Underneath there's a dream
A dream of hope
So take a second look at us now
At us now
At us now
Look at us now
(waves crashing)
(eerie music)
(yawning and stretching)
(upbeat rock music)
Gettin' pretty tired
of the same old boys
Men who don't do nothin' for me
Baby aren't you tired of a Daddy's boy
When you can play all night with me
Get my hands on a real man
Grab hold and I won't let go
I'm fallin' hard for a real man
Rock solid from head to toe
Little did you know
that I've been growin' up
This little girl is not the same
While you were playin'
cowboys and actin' tough
I had learned to play the game
Get my hands on a real man
Grab hold and I won't let go
I'm fallin' hard for a real man
Rock solid from head to toe
(instrumental)
Get my hands on a real man
Grab hold and I won't let go
I'm fallin' hard for a real man
Rock solid from head to toe
Get my hands on a real man
Grab hold and I won't let go
I'm fallin' hard for a real man
Rock solid from head to toe
Yeah, get my hands on a real man
Grab hold and I won't let go
I'm fallin' hard for a real man
- Now, Mr. Golden, how can I help you.
- Hunk.
Call me Hunk, for now.
- [Susan] Alright.
- Thanks for seeing me
on such short notice.
Nobody else would.
- You made it sound like
a matter of life or death.
- Well, it is.
For him.
- [Susan] Who is he?
- His name is Bradley Brinkman.
- Where is he?
- Right here.
I'm Bradley Brinkman.
On the inside anyway.
- Look, playing at
schizophrenia is not my idea --
- I know, I know, I know.
Look, doc.
Didn't you ever want to
become somebody else?
Somebody exciting?
Somebody fantastic?
I just happened to be that
"somebody fantastic" that
Bradley Brinkman wanted to become.
And then became.
- Somebody with a fantastic imagination.
- I know it sounds crazy, but
you've got to hear my story.
Time is running out
for Bradley and for me.
- Alright, I'll hear your story.
But time is running out for us as well.
So, why don't you just begin
with the first time that
you began to feel ---
- And Bradley Brinkman.
- The first time that
you and Bradley Brinkman
began to feel this way.
- Doctor, if I convince you,
will you take my case?
- I'm listening, Mr. Golden.
- Up until six weeks ago,
I really was Bradley
Brinkman, crack computer hack.
I spent the five years since college
chained to a computer keyboard,
except for my imagination, that is.
- [Hunk] I always daydreamed about being
one of those impossibly cool
guys you see in the movies,
or commercials.
You know, the guys who drive Maseratis
and run major corporations.
The kind that drip with
women and self-confidence.
You know, the guy that look great in those
bikini briefs that ride
up the crack in your buns?
Unfortunately, perpetual daydreaming
didn't look great to my boss,
Constantine Constapopolis
of Constapopolis Computers.
- Daydreams?
I'm paying you to write for me daydreams?
- Hi, Mr. Constapoplis.
Really I just drifted off.
- Yes, way off, Brinkman.
Way off.
Program proposals so bad, the K-9000
shut down with D.I. again.
- Digital Indigestion?
I'll ...
- Camels Are Us, the Bedouin program.
Who's got a camel with a floppy hump?
Look at this one.
Conversational Icelandic.
Who are you going to sell it to?
Penguins on tour?
(girls giggling)
Look at this one.
Sushi Towers: Eat What You Build.
You know your work hasn't
been the same ever since ...
- Suzy eloped.
Suzy eloped with her aerobics instructor.
(crowd chuckles)
I know, I know.
How would you feel if your
girlfriend rejected you
because you didn't wear a
leotard and count during sex?
(crowd giggles)
- I'm running a business here.
You have two weeks.
Two weeks to make a
money-making idea appear,
or else you're off stuffing ...
- [Both] the grape leaves
in my one-eyed father's
Greek restaurant, Cyclops West.
- Thank you, Mr. Constapopolis
for your understanding and generosity.
- Have a good day.
- [Hunk] The new program was due at 9 a.m.
I was desperate for a
concept, any concept.
But everything I wrote read like
a one-way ticket to the souvlaki line
at Cyclops West.
It all seemed beyond hope when
I punched a desperate
plea into the machine.
And then it happened.
- [Susan] What happened?
- [Hunk] Some kind of digital vulture
appeared on my screen.
Then the computer began
writing the program by itself.
(fast playful music)
- [Susan] What program?
- [Hunk] The Yuppie Program.
A multi-compatible
lifestyle budgeting program.
- [Susan] You wrote it?
I can't live without mine.
I saved a fortune stocking
my wine cellar alone.
Not to mention, the compliments I get
for your recipe for microwave pate.
- [Hunk] Like I said,
the computer wrote it
but I got the credit.
I don't know anything about
pate or pasta machines
or the yuppie-ing of suburbia
until I stayed up all
night reading it myself.
- [Susan] Now, wait a minute.
How can a computer write by itself?
- [Hunk] Wait a minute.
You haven't heard anything yet.
I woke up a hero, and
became an even bigger one
when legions of Baby Boomers snapped up
fifty thousand copies
in the first six weeks.
Mom was proud.
Dad was proud.
Heck, even Suzy called to
say she was proud, too,
to have yours truly for
a phenomenally successful ex-boyfriend.
(Constantine laughs)
- [Hunk] Mr. Constapopolis
paid me a giant royalty
and gave me the summer off, with pay,
to write any program I wanted.
(applause)
- [Susan] Sounds wonderful so far.
- All I knew about Yuppies
was they wear Reeboks to bed,
and would hock their health club cards
for ten minutes alone with a Dove Bar.
- [Susan] Mmm. Where
does Hunk Golden fit in?
- [Hunk] At the beach house
I rented in Sea Spray.
- [Susan] Sea Spray?
Pretty swanky place.
- [Hunk] Well, let's
say Sea Spray is swanky
if you've got big bucks to burn.
The only thing swanky about the place
I could afford was the driveway.
The house itself was
the oldest and grungiest
place on Sea Spray beach.
Bye-bye bonus.
(coughing)
(suitcase thuds)
It was built by some old sea captain
who ran out of money and ran out of town
before he could complete
his sailing ship of a house.
It was ideal for investigating the
Yuppies-at-Play lifestyle, in which
I was supposedly an expert.
(dog barks)
I'd leisurely concoct my next program
and spend the rest of my time
making my daydreams come true.
- [Susan] So far, so good.
- [Hunk] Except that I went a bit too far.
Now, there's hell to pay.
(upbeat rock music)
In my daydreams, all I had to do was wink
and the women would come running.
But there wasn't a beach full of
tanned and toned competition, either.
The old bod definitely
could have used a workout.
(doorbell rings)
- [Chachka] These are fabulous.
Little piggy salt and pepper shakers.
I'm gonna add these to my collection.
- Ahem.
- Oh! Welcome to Sea Spray.
Where the well-to-do
do well at doing well.
I'm Polly Clutter, but
everybody calls me Chachka.
- I'm Bradley Brinkman,
but everybody calls me
Bradley.
(laughing)
You're in my living room.
- Thought so.
I saw your car out front.
Is that a loaner while
the BMW's in the shop?
- No, actually ...
- Oh, look.
Somebody is actually gonna
gentrify this old mess.
Good for you.
- Actually, I'm just renting
this old mess for the summer.
- Well, you didn't look like
you could afford to buy.
He started this place and
never quite finished it.
Captain Kravitt.
- How do you know so much
about Captain Kravitt?
- When I was a kid,
I used to hide firecrackers
in his barbecue
and listen for his hot dogs to explode.
He always had a fire going,
that Captain Kravitt.
- No kidding.
- Hey, why don't you go
put on your bathing suit?
Chachka's gonna take you
on a gabby guided tour.
- A gabby guided tour?
- Don't worry about it.
It's free.
- Sounds great.
How come they call you Chachka?
- Oh, my house is full of chachkas.
I collect things.
Knick-knacks, bric-a-brac.
I'm an incurable collector.
When I moved out here from
New York in the Fifties,
the only building on the beach
was my Dad's hot dog stand.
Wee Willy's Weenies.
- Wee Willy's Weenies
All topped with cheese and beanies
- [Hunk and Chachka] Wee Willy's Weenies
I'm getting one today.
Ole!
(laughing)
- In the Sixties, this place was
Buff Bluff Topless Beach.
On a hot day, the boobs were packed
tighter than eggs in your Easter basket.
- Born too late.
- In the Seventies, Mahatma
Maharaji went bankrupt
building the world's first,
and last, condo commune.
Now, we've got Yuppies.
Who's next?
- She is.
- Who?
- Her.
She's not real.
- Where is she?
- Right there, next to those surfers.
- There's just a couple of surfers.
- The most gorgeous creature in the galaxy
is steaming right this way.
- You're imagining this.
(dreamy exotic music)
- Where'd she go?
Where'd she go?
- Hey, take it easy.
She didn't go anywhere
because she was never here.
- She ...
- Hey, hey.
Come on.
Time to meet the heavy
hitters on the social circuit.
Oh, you're in luck.
They're all here.
- Don't worry.
We'll get this one.
- In The Adventures of
Rocky and Bullwinkle,
archvillian Boris Badenov was named
after the title character in what
famous Russian opera?
- Opera? Give me a break.
- Igor Stravinsky, right?
- Igor Stravinsky, wrong.
- Our turn.
- [Alexis] You're the best.
- No, you're the best.
- But you're the cutest.
- You're the cutest.
- [Both] Tie.
(smooching)
- Boris Godunov, right?
- Sea Spray Beach rules
for Trivial Pursuit
prohibit saying the correct
answer to the losing team.
- They might actually
get one right next time.
- [Both] No.
- Who is this guy, Chachka?
- Barry Brinkman.
He just moved in.
- It's Bradley.
Brinkman.
Sorry.
- Bradley, I want you
to meet Coaster Royce,
Wall Street whiz and
youngest vice-president
in the history of
Ratchet, Slammer and Hops.
- Ratchet, Slammer, Hops and Royce,
if I have a say in it.
And I will.
I always do.
- And that jet-set escapee
from East coast old money?
Alexis Cash.
- Ha. Ha.
Where are you moving in, Brinkman?
- The Kravitt house.
- I'm glad someone's going to spruce up
that dilapidated old dump.
(girls giggling)
- Well, actually, I'm just
renting it for the summer.
- Yeah, you didn't look like
you could afford to buy.
Need any cockroach traps?
- Wait a minute.
You're Skeet Mecklenburger, right?
All-Pro Dallas Annihilator
linebacker, right?
- All through linebacker, you mean.
Cut like a rookie on
unconditional waivers.
- Yeah, but I can still cut it with you,
can't I, passion pie?
- With an electric knife, baby.
- You remember Laurel Springs?
Cheerleader queen of
Wednesday Night Football?
- Yeah, I love the light
knockwurst commercial
you guys did together.
- A fan.
How flattering.
You play V-ball, Brinsky?
- V-ball?
Oh, yeah, V-ball.
I'd love to but I haven't
played it in ages.
- Don't worry.
Skeet knows all the rules.
- There are a few Dos and
Don'ts in V-ball, Brinsky.
So let's start with the Don'ts.
(laughing)
You don't reach under the net, eh?
(laughing)
You don't run into the net.
- Ooo.
And you don't kick sand on
and opposing player when he's down.
(laughing)
- Ew.
- Got the picture, Brinsky?
- [Hunk] So what if they all acted like
they hated me from birth?
There was an aura to their arrogance.
I had to fit in.
I yuppied out my house with every
trendy appliance my
credit limit could bear.
So what if this stuff would never fit
in my studio apartment after the summer?
I was living in the moment.
I even personally
stonewashed all my clothes.
I still haven't figured out why.
Sea Spray by night means The Sand Castle.
The men are low on body fat,
the women are high on themselves.
And whatever else is going around.
I was ready for Step Two:
inviting the whole beach to
an open house at my place.
I'd party their asses
off, include myself in
with the In Crowd.
(upbeat dance music)
The Sea Spray crowd
accepts no substitutes.
And I felt like a substitute.
- Hey. Hi, Coaster.
How's it going, guy?
(laughing)
- Where did you get that outfit?
- Well, I got it at
the Sea Spray Galleria.
(scoffs)
Alexis, darling.
Brinkman here went shopping at the
Sea Spray Schlock-eria.
- What's so funny?
We're exactly identical.
- Fat chance.
- [Alexis] Midnight Express for Men.
Made in Turkey.
Poly cotton blend.
- [Both] Eww.
- Oh, Giorgio Spermatucci stonewash.
Spermatucci, my favorite designer.
- They're 100% cotton.
- They stonewash their
denim in synthetic stones.
- Brinkman, a little advice.
The only thing that you'll
lay tonight in that,
is linoleum.
(laughing)
- Oh yeah, you guys.
Here's an invitation to my open house.
Try and drop by.
- Catered no doubt by
(speaking fake French)
Oh, we will be there with bells on.
Bells.
- Ding-a-ling.
- [Hunk] And then I saw her.
Again.
(sensual dance music)
- Are we humping air, Bradley?
- I was dancing with that
incredibly gorgeous woman
from the beach but, she vanished.
- Oh, sure.
How come I can't see her?
Where did she go?
- Hell if I know.
- [Hunk] The final score
for my open house was
Host, one; Guests zero.
Talk about wounded pride,
mine was dead on arrival.
A nightmare of leftover artichoke hearts.
(telephone rings)
- Hello.
Chachka.
(rock music)
Chachka, baby.
How are you?
Oh, fantastic.
Fantastic turnout, yeah.
(silverware clanks on dishes)
Yeah. What?
Oh, you can't make it over?
Hey, we're gonna miss you, yeah.
(imitating party guests)
Hey, great party, Bradley.
Yeah, dude, great party.
(reverts to own voice)
Leftovers?
No, these party animals are pigging out.
Pigging out, yeah.
(laughing)
What?
(music plays louder)
I can't hear you.
You've gotta speak up for me, ok?
I'll talk to you tomorrow, ok?
Yeah, bye.
(music stops)
Any leftovers.
She'll probably be right
over with Tupperware.
(dramatic music)
- Suppose you gave an open house,
and nobody came?
We can't have that now,
can we, computer champ?
- Wait a minute, don't disappear.
Ok, now who are you?
And how do you know so much about me?
Am I the only person who can see you?
- Aroused?
Your curiosity, I mean.
Bradley, a girl in my line
works up a devilish thirst.
Aren't you going to invite
me to stay for a Perrier?
- Well, the food's just
to die for, Bradley.
You know, you could be one fabulous host.
It's a shame you don't recognize it.
- You've had the food
and you've had your fun.
Now, who are you?
- My name's O'Brien.
- Just O'Brien?
- Just O'Brien.
- And where do you live, O'Brien?
- Hell.
I have a large studio apartment.
It's 1700 degrees Fahrenheit.
Of course, I want a one-bedroom
at 2500 degrees Fahrenheit,
or a loft in the Celcius neighborhood,
but anything over 2000
degrees is a fortune.
It's hell to find a
decent place to live ...
in Hell.
- Who writes your material?
David Letterman?
Cute.
Very clever.
What do you want from me?
- Ok, listen up, Bradley.
I'm only going to read you your
Black Magic Rights once.
- Oh.
(laughing)
Sorry.
- Be forewarned.
You are about to be solicited
for a supernatural experience.
You have the right to call an exorcist.
If you cannot afford an exorcist,
one will be appointed to you.
Any black magic covenants
hereafter executed by you
can and will be used to assert
dark dominion over your soul.
Any questions?
- Yeah.
Why me?
- I've had my evil eye on you a long time.
Bradley, you need a friend right now.
Who do you think inspired
the Yuppie program?
- Wait a minute.
This was on my computer.
You possessed my word
processor that night?
- Let's call it temporary occupancy.
- This conversation is
insane and so are you.
- One question, Bradley.
Are you happy you rented
this fabulous house,
so that Coaster Royce
could wipe his TopSiders
on your face at the drop of a Frisbee?
Half the women around here won't give you
the correct time of day
at a Rolex convention?
- Well ...
- I can make you over.
Make you into the kind of man you've
always daydreamed about.
The kind of man women want most
and men want most to be.
A hunk.
Handsome, tanned, toned.
Rich, Bradley.
Successful.
Admired.
- What's all this going to cost me?
- Your soul, silly boy.
And would you believe, right now,
we have a no-obligation,
sell-your-soul-for-the-summer trial offer?
And if you are not 100% satisfied,
your old body and your
old soul will be refunded.
It's a package deal.
- Are you part of the package deal?
- The Devil Himself Incorporated
forbids my dating clients
while their soul is in spiritual escrow.
(laughing)
- The Devil Himself Incorporated.
- The Boss needs tax
write-offs just like you.
- We'll still see each other, won't we?
- Oh, for eternity if you want.
So, give it a go for the summer?
- And now, I'm supposed to
sign something in blood, right?
- A hypodermic pen.
No muss, no fuss.
It's my latest invention.
- Ow!
(laughing)
- Done.
- Now what?
- Now, wait.
A new life and a new body
begin tomorrow at sunrise.
Sweet dreams, Bradley Brinkman.
This may be the last
we see of the old you.
- Bye.
(laughing)
Weird, really weird.
- [Hunk] That night, I had a wild dream.
At least, I thought it was a dream.
(wind howling)
(eerie music)
(thunder crashing)
(muscles groaning)
(waves pounding)
(suspenseful music)
- Oh, man what a nightmare.
(yawning and stretching)
Wait a minute, whose arm is this?
Whose room is this?
(laughing)
Still dreaming.
I'm not dreaming.
This is real.
Where did all this come from?
Oh my God.
O'Brien really did it.
Really did it.
Hey, that's not Oscar.
My best friend since the
seventh grade is missing.
(doorbell rings)
O'Brien?
O'Brien, what the hell ...
Chachka, hi.
- You know me?
I'd remember meeting you.
If you're one of the
leftovers from last night,
I'm gonna kill myself for missing you.
I mean, it.
- Yeah, I was leftover alright.
- Well, is Body -- I mean, Bradley, home?
- Bradley.
No, Bradley is still dreaming, I think.
I mean, he's still
hungover from the party.
- Look, he redecorated the whole place.
- Yeah.
He sure did.
I mean, yes.
Yes, he did.
What are you staring at?
- A real hunk.
I mean, is that your
new car in the driveway?
- New car?
What new car?
- You mean this car?
(laughing)
- No.
This is my Chachka-mobile.
- It's interesting.
The new car is over here.
Is it yours?
- The car of my daydreams.
I mean, I don't know.
- Who are you, anyway?
- I'm not sure.
I mean, Bradley and I are very close.
Listen, have you seen a
woman about five-nine,
dark hair, really gorgeous?
- Not you, too.
- Never mind.
She'll turn up.
I hope.
Wow, look at this stuff.
H.G.?
Who's H.G.?
- [Hunk] Not only was I new to Chachka,
but everything I now owned was new to me.
How you doin', Caesar?
"It's a whole package deal -- O'Brien"
Hunk Golden?
My name is Hunk Golden?
(laughing)
I'm rich.
Whatever happened to Bradley Brinkman?
O'Brien.
O'Brien?
- It was all I could do to keep from
ripping his towel off with my teeth.
- What's his name?
- He didn't say.
- Another renter asshole.
- There he is now.
Yoo-hoo.
Bradley's friend.
Over here.
- Now that's a perfect specimen.
- A man's man-and-a-half.
- He puts you two both to shame.
- Yeah, we'll see about that.
- Hello again.
I didn't catch your name.
- Brad -- Hunk.
My name is Hunk Golden.
- Hunk?
That short for hairdresser or something?
- [Chachka] Hunk, this is Coaster,
Alexis, Laurel and Skeet.
- I feel like I know you already.
- Isn't he charming?
Moving in?
- Or moving along?
- [Hunk] No, actually, I'm
just visiting Bradley Brinkman.
- That scrawny little wuss?
- Actually, I'm just --
- What's the hurry, Murray?
Just so happens, we're looking
for a fourth for v-ball.
- You do know how to
play v-ball, don't you?
- Yeah, somebody gave me a few lessons.
Once.
- [Chachka] Go Hunk.
Go Hunk, go.
- You can serve, can't you?
- Yeah, mind if I practice first?
- Hey, Garth, it's you and me.
One-on-one.
Hope you can handle a good spike.
- Good luck.
- Come on.
Get it up, gorgeous.
- Go Hunk.
Kill him, Hunk.
- I oughta wrap your nuts
around your neck, Twinky-dick.
- No, Skeet.
No.
- Skeet, don't damage the merchandise.
- Skeet, enough's enough.
- Hyah.
- Go, Hunk.
- Out cold.
- Fair fight.
- He's my best friend,
but he can really roar
like an asshole sometimes.
- Where'd you get that whallop?
- That's what I'd like to know.
(upbeat rock music)
- I can't believe you threw
this together in five minutes.
- What a host.
- Odds and ends from the fridge.
- Odds and ends, Alexis.
- Where's Bradley?
- Bradley, he's ... downtown.
Family emergency.
- I want a word with you, Mr. Hunk Golden.
- Last time she had a word with somebody,
he couldn't talk for a week.
Want a cracker?
- I'm not eating.
- Why not, Bubbie?
- I'm fat.
- You're not fat.
- You are not fat.
You're a beautiful gazelle.
- I'm huge.
- You're not huge.
- You're the most beautiful
thing in the world.
- I'm a beached whale.
- You're not a beached whale.
- I'm very sorry about Skeet.
I don't know my own strength.
How is he?
- Unconcious.
Under a twenty pound ice pack.
You ape.
- I'm an ape?
- I've never seen anything
so savage in my entire life.
Who do you think you are?
- Do I know?
I just met myself for
the first time today.
- You know what somebody ought to do
to a human bastard like you?
- No.
- Somebody should thank you
for putting that big lummox in his place.
You're a walking Chuck Norris movie
and I'm not waiting til
you're out on video cassette.
- In case you haven't noticed,
this house is full of guests.
- And all the women want to take you South
of the Mason-Dixon line.
- Things like this never
happen to Bradley Brinkman.
- Why worry about that little old tadpole?
We got a bigger fish to fry.
(giggles)
- Where's you learn to jockey this bed?
- Dallas General Hospital.
Before becoming an
Annihilator cheerleader,
I was stripped of my candy stripes.
- Once a candy striper,
always a candy striper.
That's what I say.
- You want to see my stripes?
Ok.
(bed vibrating)
Do a physical.
- Oh I can see them just fine.
(upbeat rock music)
(vibrated moaning)
(table thuds)
- Oh!
- Ah!
- Oo!
(waves crashing)
- What a difference a day makes.
- It's about time.
Where is Bradley Brinkman?
- You're still Bradley inside,
only now you're getting results.
- I thought you were some gorgeous kook,
not Satana, Queen of Darkness.
- Relax.
Enjoy living in this gorgeous
new chassis for a while.
- You know, I drank eight martinis,
I'm not even hungover.
- That's nothing.
Tomorrow, you'll begin
new body orientation.
Are you going to be surprised.
- What about my old body?
- The trial offer expires
the midnight after Labor Day.
But you'll never go back.
Nobody does.
Trust me.
I designed you myself.
- [O'Brien] You've got the
thighs of Sylvester Stallone,
the pelvis of Elvis Presley,
the naval of Arnold Schwartzenegger,
the nipples of Robert Redford,
they eyes of Paul Newman
and the schlong of King Kong.
I gave you Perma-Firm flesh,
wrinkle-proof Perma-Tan skin.
Unfrizzable hair, unbreakable bones.
Self-cleaning, cavity-proof teeth.
Odorless sweat.
When you die, your soul
lives on in Hell in Hunk form
for eternity.
(upbeat disco music)
Destiny
Can it be time for me?
Can it be?
You waited patiently
Destiny
- [O'Brien] Gorge yourself on
the most fattening food in all creation
and never gain weight.
Destiny
Can't stop because we're movin'
To our destiny
- [O'Brien] Chug twelve
times the alcohol capacity
of a person twice your size.
You liver was designed by Dean Martin.
And, to protect our evil investment,
you're a natural martial arts master.
Just ask Skeet.
I saw you
I knew I had to have you
You're my kind of man
Destiny
My life's an open book
- [O'Brien] Let's not forget why
we packaged you so stunningly.
Women.
You'll be a moving target from now on
for anyone who loves lucious looking men.
Destiny
Sweet destiny
- [O'Brien] You're bound to overdo the
super-stud bit at first, but you'll know
when enough is enough.
It's destiny
- [O'Brien] Worship thy wheels.
A hunk is naked without his car.
Sweet destiny
- [O'Brien] And do everything first.
A hunk sets trends.
Destiny
Sweet destiny
- [O'Brien] Underdress to impress.
A hunk looks his best when he looks
like he doesn't care how he looks.
Sweet destiny
- That is the most incredible, ridiculous
preposterous story I have ever heard.
- But it's true.
- Realize, I just taped
your entire session.
On the basis of that
alone, I could have you
held for observation at any mental ward
in Los Angeles County.
But that's what fascinates me.
You sound deluded, but something inside me
tells me you're not.
- Yeah, well, the me
inside me knows I'm not.
What if she has a demonic whim
and turns me into a hamster?
Or a high school driver's ed instructor?
- Don't panic, Hunk.
Do I believe you?
No.
Can I help you to help yourself?
Maybe.
- Alright, where do I start?
- You say you're Bradley Brinkman.
And that Bradley Brinkman's dream is
to become a hunk, right?
- Right.
- So be a hunk.
There's nothing wrong with that while
we're getting to the real
root of your problem.
- You know, maybe if
you could meet O'Brien
that would prove everything.
- I doubt whether O'Brien
or Bradley Brinkman exist
outside of your imagination.
So, until our next
session just lighten up.
There are worse fates than being
a drop-dead gorgeous guy with
a pad at the beach, you know.
- Yeah.
You know something, doc?
You're right.
- My clients and my friends call me Sunny.
(upbeat disco music)
Music plays and I react
I'm always first up to the floor
The way I move's a natural act
Always make me wanting more
Don't stop
I never had such a feeling
When I'm dancing
I look at you and believe that
You're the one
Blinded by your magic spell
You have got me hypnotized
When you hold me you can tell me
One of your fantastic lies
Don't stop
I never had such a feeling
When I'm dancing
I look at you and believe that
You're the one
I never had such a feeling
- I'll be right back
after I powder my nose.
- Promise?
Whoa.
Chickie chickie chickie dear,
the sea won't you talk to me?
Aw, come on, babe.
Save that cold fish
stuff for all these nerds
and tuna into me, Sushi-tail.
(laughing)
What's wrong?
Catfish got your tongue, huh?
- [Laurel] Skeet.
- Whoops. Gotta go.
I just love raw fish.
- Was Skeetsy-Weetsy a good widdle boy
while Mommy powdered her nosey-wosey?
- The goodest.
- I'll bet.
- Excuse me.
(laughing)
- [Hunk] Hey, Marty?
How about a Campari
with a splash of orange?
(whispering)
(gasps)
(giggles)
- So, how was the Catch-of-the-Day?
- Pretty fresh.
- Pretty fresh?
Hey, I promised you
Paradise and I delivered.
- I know, I know.
A life of earthly
pleasures in exchange for
and afterlife with the eternal infernal
god of hellfire and staff, right?
- Somebody mention me?
- Hunk, meet the chairman of the board of
The Devil Himself Incorporated.
Dr. D, the Devil himself.
- The Devil is a doctor?
- A doctor of death.
Sworn to the hypocritic oath,
to take life whenever possible.
- Wait, wait a minute.
You look just like the guy
that used to own this house.
That Captain Kravitt guy.
- Oh, I look like many different
people throughout history.
All of them rotten.
- Is that why you're
dressed like Genghis Khan?
- Attila the Hun.
We're sacking Rome in 451 A.D.
Actually, I just popped
in for a Coke Classic.
- Who's she?
- Shebia, a little Roman
slave girl I rescued
to keep me warm at night.
She only speaks Latin, I'm afraid.
E pluribus unum, my dear.
- Wait a minute.
Wait a minute, wait a minute.
451 A.D.?
That's fifteen centuries ago.
- Well, if history's
going to repeat itself,
I have to keep evil going in the past
as well as the present and future.
This is the worst demon
power shortage we've had
since everyone went holy
for the blasted Crusades.
That's why I want you.
- Me.
- Yes, you.
In another fifty years,
you'll be assisting
all the biggies of badness.
Ivan the Terrible,
Jack the Ripper,
Benito Mussolini,
and first dibs on delectable
fringe benefits, too, my boy.
Now, O'Brien.
If you need me on Monday,
I will be at the French Revolution
beheading ambassadors.
Tuesday, champagne with
Cain for killing Abel.
Wednesday night,
polo with the Four
Horsemen of the Apocolypse.
Thursday, the 1906 San
Francisco earthquake.
What a blast that was.
Friday, oh Friday.
I sink Atlantis for the weekend.
I can't wait for that.
- What happens to her?
- I'll probably kill
her in the Trojan War,
or turn her into a hula-hoop in the 1950s.
I haven't decided which yet.
- Kill her?
- Alright, I'll kill her.
A hula hoop too cruel,
even for me.
- No, no.
I didn't mean to kill her, no.
- Don't be so squeamish, my boy.
There are victims all through history.
My victims, O'Brien's victims, and soon
your victims.
- The body count is the
bottom line in our business.
- This is beginning to sound like
a horror film here, O'Brien.
- I always say, "Art imitates Death."
Have a happy, Hunk Golden.
I'll meet you back here
midnight after Labor Day
to close the deal.
We'll be expecting appalling, horrible
horrifying, ghastly things from you.
Ciao, baby.
- I assist Ivan the Terrible?
- It's no biggie.
So, every few centuries,
you re-perpetuate evil
somewhere in history.
- Oh, I'm a time-traveling
satanic salesperson?
Like you?
- Right.
Then we can be together forever.
Think of it.
December 6, 1941.
We hit Tokyo to scarf some sake and sushi
in time to bomb Pearl
Harbor on December 7th.
Talk about romantic.
- [Hunk] I finally meet a beautiful woman
and she wants me to bomb Pearl Harbor.
"Talk about romantic."
- You met the Devil?
- Everything was going like a charm, too,
just like O'Brien said it would.
- And what did the Devil look like?
- His name is Dr. D.
He was dressed like Attila the Hun.
- Attlia the Hun?
- He had this captive
Roman slave girl with him
named Chinchilla, or something.
- Well, she'll never be
cold with a name like that.
- He's going to kill her
during the Trojan War
or turn her into a hula-hoop in the 1950s.
He'll do it, too.
- I'm sure he will.
- I'm going to travel through time, too.
- Hunk?
- Yeah.
- Have you been taking drugs?
- For what?
I was flying high on my
own til Dr. D showed up.
- Maybe we should have our
next session at your house.
- Oh, you make house calls?
- No, not normally.
I think something at the Sea Spray setting
might reveal clues that I
just can't discover here.
- Still think I'm joking, don't you?
- I think your panic is genuine.
I'm just not so sure about the source.
- If I could only get you
and O'Brien in the same room.
She's Exhibit A-plus.
- How is Tuesday at ten?
- Good.
(doorbell rings)
- Doc.
I mean, Sunny.
Come in.
I had a late night.
- So it seems.
- Air Deutschland.
The Messerschmidt Sisters.
Ursula
und Ulla.
Ich bin ein Berliner.
They followed me home from the 7-11
and sang Beatles songs
through the door to me
in German until I let them in.
- Hmm.
It's all part of observing you in your
supernatural habitat.
- Touche.
- Well, where were we, doc?
- Let's get you out in public.
I want to see your hunk magnetism at work.
- The beach, perfect.
(telephone rings)
Hang on.
Hello?
- Bradley?
It's Constapopolis calling.
And how is doing our little genius, eh?
- It's my boss, Bradley's boss.
Constantine Constapopolis.
Hello, Mr. Constapopolis.
How are Demetria, Demetrius
and Constantine Jr. ?
- Is this Bradley Brinkman?
- [Hunk] Of course.
- It don't sound like you, Bradley.
- He doesn't believe I'm Bradley.
- Makes two of us.
- I'm going to try to do my own voice.
One minute, Mr. C.
Doorbell.
(practicing)
"Hello Mr. Constapoplis.
"Yes, Mr. Constapopolis.
"You're right, Mr. Constapopolis."
Thanks for the baklava.
Everything was fantastic.
- That's my Bradley.
So, have you written Program X yet?
No, don't tell me.
Don't tell me.
I'll wait til you come
back after Labor Day, huh?
- Program X.
Labor Day.
Right, right.
Everything's coming along just fine.
- Listen, the distributors
need it by November.
So, you must deliver it after Labor Day.
No pressure of course.
(laughing)
- No sweat.
No pressure at all.
Coming up right after Labor Day.
- Good.
Tell me, Bradley.
What is it?
Give me a hint, just a tiny little ...
No, no, don't tell me, no.
Just a little hint?
Come on?
- And ruin the surprise?
- And ruin the surprise.
You're a genius.
A genius, you hear me?
Bradley, I kiss you.
(typing)
And ruin the surprise.
- Hi, Garrison Gaylord here.
This week on "Filthy Rich,"
we scamper along the
sleek, chic, sunny shores
of the Greek Island of Infano,
A millionaire's paradise.
- Cut.
- What?
- Number one, Garrison,
your fly is open.
- Oh.
- And two, last week was Infano.
This week we're in Sea Spray,
home of the Polar Ice Cap you're drinking.
- Alright, alright, alright.
I've got it now.
- You've got it?
- Yes, I've got it.
- Ok, that's take two.
- I can't believe I forgot all about
that new program I was --
I mean, Bradley, was supposed to write.
- Do you see how this obsession with
an imaginary personality torments you?
Let it go.
- Sunny, Bradley is not imaginary.
- I'm ready.
- [Director] Roll tape.
"Filthy Rich," take twelve.
- Hi, Garrison Gaylord here.
This week on "Filthy Rich,"
we scamper along the sleek, chic
sunny shores of Sea Spray,
home of the Polar Ice Cap I am drinking.
- No, not again, Garrison.
- It was the same blinking thing
I did in Monaco.
- No.
In Monaco, you set the Duchess
of Dungmore's wig on fire.
Do you remember?
- Yes.
- I do.
That's a break, everybody.
Cut.
Get him into wardrobe.
- My wardrobe is back in my motel room
so that your wardrobe person
won't starch my collars into cardboard.
- Alright, the next set
is at the end of the pier.
- We have no proof that any afterlife
or any afterdeath exists.
- I'm proof, Sunny.
- Mortality means living who you are
and loving who you are, right now.
How else can anyone love you?
- Excuse me.
- I'm sorry.
- Wasn't that Garrison Gaylord?
- I don't know.
- Huh.
- Anyway, what I was going to say ---
- My bleeding driver's never here.
I'll do it myself.
Ow.
(tires screech)
- Here comes Garrison.
He's in reverse and out of control.
- If he kills himself on camera,
the ratings are gonna soar.
- You want it, you shoot it.
(tires screech)
(screaming)
- Watch out.
- There is a dark power, Sunny.
I'll prove it to you, somehow.
- Hey, you two.
Watch out.
(brakes squeal)
- [Director] Whoo- hoo!
I got the whole thing on tape.
Oh, baby.
- That is one of the most
astonishing feats I have ever seen.
- Congratulations, guy.
You're a hero.
- A superhero.
He saved us all.
- Need anymore proof, Sunny?
- What's your name?
- Hunk.
Hunk Golden.
- [Garrison] The Incredible Hunk?
I can't bear it.
Are you two married?
- No, I'm his psychologist, actually.
- [Garrison] Even better.
(triumphant music)
- Pumping that much adrenaline
makes any man a super man.
- Adrenaline won't stop a jeep.
- You just saved my life.
Look for your answers in that.
Hunk Golden is a hero
for a very good reason.
The messge is simple.
The world needs you.
The world needs to believe in someone
who rises about the ordinary.
That someone is you.
- I'd really go mad without you, Sunny.
Look, I'd better go.
UCLA is running some more tests.
Thank you for saving my life.
Same time Tuesday?
- You make you feel like your only client.
- I try to make them all feel like that.
- You sure about that?
- No.
(slow romantic music)
We can't.
I can't help you like this.
You're a very attractive man.
Inside, not just outside.
You go now.
- Wait and see.
Til Tuesday.
- Think you hooked him?
- The cheap stunt was the clincher.
- He's a bright boy.
The kind I need to start World War Three.
There's just one teensy little problem.
- What's that?
- You're in love with
another one, O'Brien.
- I am not in love with Hunk.
- Promises, promises.
You always come on like gangbusters,
then you fall in love with the poor slob,
and then you end up talking him out of ---
You've cost me a fortune
in special effects.
- Can a Sorceress help it if she gets
emotionally involved with her work?
Soul seduction is draining.
- Oh, whatever happened
to the bad old days?
Like when you had that idea
about the Bermuda Triangle?
A biodegradable death
zone with great fishing.
I was so proud of you.
- I hid Al Capone's secret vaults
from Geraldo Rivera, didn't I?
- That's right.
You did.
Poor Geraldo.
I just loved that.
- Besides, Hunk is
falling right into line.
- That's true.
He's rich, he's famous.
He's falling in love.
He'll never want to change back again now,
now that he's fallen in
love with you, Doctor.
- Hunk's ours.
I think.
- You think?
You think.
I've warned you about these trial offers.
Your deal expires the day
after Labor Day, too, O'Brien.
Don't forget that.
Another failure and I'll
have to turn you back ---
- No, no.
Not that.
Just give me another year.
Another six months.
- Look at you.
Love.
You reek of it.
You owe me a soul a century.
You are owed for 99 years.
No soul, no deal.
No deal, no O'Brien.
- Ok, look.
I made Hunk fall in love with Susan.
- And not vice versa.
- Not vice versa.
Sunny convinces him to keep the deal.
And then what happens to Sunny?
- Sunny, what's sunny?
Sunny?
The Tuesday after Labor Day,
Sunny disappears.
He never sees her again.
- Hunk will be heartbroken.
- Well, if you're not in love with him,
it won't matter, will it?
- If he ever finds out,
he's going to hate me forever.
- Well, that could be arranged.
I'll be watching you, O'Brien.
Heil Hitler.
I wish I could have mastered
that clicking business.
Ciao, sweetheart.
(trumpet fanfare)
- Garrison Gaylord here.
Two weeks ago on "Filthy Rich,"
we showed you a real-life act
of super-heroism as it unfolded
right before our cameras.
In the two weeks since,
Hunk Golden, the superman
who saved my life,
has become the stuff of American legend.
The "Filthy Rich" camera crew and I
shared it with him.
(crowd cheers)
Hunkmania is sweeping Sea Spray
and the rest of the country.
Hunk wannabes camp around
his home, 24 hours,
desperate for just a
look at the Hunk himself.
Hunk's sport coat is the brand-new look,
the fashion look of the 1980s.
- [Garrison] Promotional
offers have been flooding in
since Day One, from
designer jeans to dog food,
from health clubs to hemmorhoids.
Hunk's name is indeed Golden.
Three million to be the new James Bond.
Four million to lose to
Stallone in "Rocky 5."
Playboy wants him.
Playgirl wants him.
Meteoric fame has already forced Hunk
into self-imposed seclusion.
Constantly at his side
throughout the dizzying siege,
is Los Angeles psychologist
Susan "Sunny" Graves,
who he rescued.
Are they in romantic cahoots?
Will success spoil Hunk Golden?
Close friends say he's changed already.
(telephone ringing)
- UPI, shmoopy-eye.
I think I hear AP calling.
Hunk Golden.
Yeah, yeah.
Hunkburger franchises.
I'm sorry, I'm sold out til 1992.
(telephones ringing)
- [Hunk] Hunk Golden.
Yes, Senator.
No, I've already been asked to be put
on the State Flag of Hawaii, but --
- [Girl] Hunk? Hunk?
- Can you hang a second, Senator?
Impressive little thing, aren't you?
There you go.
(screaming)
People are always dropping in.
No, Senator.
I couldn't pick a favorite state.
Of course, if you'd like to sponsor a bill
putting me on the American flag,
I'd have no objections.
(telephones ringing)
God damn it, Sunny.
These people are just
like a bunch of pirhana.
Bite, bite, bite.
(crowd cheering)
- Oh, come on, just --
- No, I've had it, ok?
Watch this.
Waiting for something from Hunk Golden?
Well, here it is.
A person-to-person message.
Stay the hell away from here.
(crowd screaming)
Take that, fat boy.
- [Sunny] Stop it, Hunk.
That's not funny.
Hunk, stop it.
Do you want to go on the
Six O'Clock News doing this?
- Sure I do.
I love the publicity, honey.
- Give me this.
Give it to me.
- Fine, just fine.
(slow sad music)
(waves crashing)
- You can't let it get to you like this.
- I'm starting to feel different inside,
almost like a demon.
- Demons don't exist,
just people and pressures.
- You know you've made it
when your garbage is front page news.
Extra: Hunk tosses Lean Cuisine,
cappucino grounds and a
pint of Praline Tofutti.
Read all about it.
- It won't always be like this.
You won't always live
under the media microscope.
It will cool off.
And then we'll have --
And then you'll have your privacy again.
- You can say "we."
We're in this together.
- And after Labor Day tomorrow,
we'll be out of it together.
You'll finally be Hunk
Golden in your own right.
- I kind of like being in it together,
with someone like you.
- So do I.
But, there are better things
to be in together than this, you know.
(romantic music)
(laughing)
- That's more like it.
(glass shatters)
(laughing)
- Hunk, wake up.
It's me.
Your old body?
The body you're on
vacation from, remember?
- Where the hell have you been?
- Exactly.
Hell.
I escape all day
while watching "The
Possessed and the Restless."
- Hold on just a minute.
Sunny, Sunny, Bradley's here.
Wake up.
- Hunk, I don't have much time.
- Why were you in Hell?
- Where else were they going to hold
this body in escrow while you decide
who to boff next?
- That's not fair.
- What a sleazebag you've become.
Hosing down innocent fans.
- How do you know that?
- How'd I know that?
You're running as a
mini-series on Demon TV.
Killer ratings.
Everyone down there is ripping
off their coat sleeves.
- I don't know what's happening to me.
- The hell you don't.
Evil has taken root in your soul.
It used to be such a nice soul.
Lonely, but nice.
(demons screaming)
- What's that?
- It's them, it's them.
I came to warn you.
Dr. D. is for real, and so is Hell.
Hunk, I know you can feel it already.
- [Hunk] Sunny, you're missing it.
Wake up, wake up.
- Forget about her and
think about our future.
It is slime-time down there.
Ex-game show hosts,
used car salesmen,
TV spokesmodels.
Even Mrs. Kreppel.
Yes, Mrs. Kreppel, that
ninth grade Biology bitch
that flunked us, twice?
- What should I do?
- Think.
Think if it's worth it.
- [Hunk] What about Sunny?
I'm in love with her.
It's what we've always wanted.
- Don't you think I can feel that?
A lifetime with her is a one night stand
compared to an eternity of evil.
Hunk, I know you.
I know you'll make the right decision.
(demons screeching)
- Bradley!
Sunny's got to see this.
Sunny, wake up.
- What is it?
- Bradley was just here.
They came and carried him back to Hell.
Come on, see for yourself.
- I was in such a deep sleep.
- I know, I know.
Look, Sunny.
- You woke me up to show
me the bedroom door?
- No, no.
Just a minute ago, these arms came
and punched holes right through the door
and pulled Bradley right
back through the wood.
- Honey, you were just dreaming.
- How the hell did I get this
splinter in my finger, huh?
- I don't know.
I don't know how.
- From the hole in the door.
- Hunk, the only hole in
this room is in your head.
Look, you're just upset because your whole
Bradley fantasy shatters to bits tomorrow.
- Sunny, don't be mad at me, ok?
- I'm not mad at you.
I just want us to get past this.
I want it to be the two of us,
not the three of us.
- You know you're the best thing
that ever happened to me, right?
- Why don't we shower and
go have some breakfast, huh?
- Yeah, I'll join you in a second.
- Good.
(waves crashing)
- Get in.
- What are you doing here?
- I was swimming kosher hot dogs
from Miami to Havana for Fidel
during the Cuban Missle Crisis,
when Brinkman escaped.
- Spritual separation anxiety.
His good half is so strong.
- Yes, so don't wimp out.
Good move, suggesting breakfast.
Listen, don't let him
sleep before midnight.
- He's still tipped in our direction.
- Yes, but one more silly, sappy
sentimental dream and he'll
back out at the last second.
- Talking to me, honey?
(imitating Sunny)
- I'm singing in the shower, dear.
Keep him awake, he's ours.
- Right.
- Well, doesn't sound like singing to me.
- Then you weren't listening.
(romantic music)
I love you.
- Great breakfast.
- Mm-hm.
- Sweetheat, I'm still a little jangled
from Bradley last night.
Mind if I take a nap?
- I think a nap's a good idea.
You want to be in tip-top shape
when they present you with
the key to Sea Spray at the club tonight.
- Right.
- Sweet dreams.
Bye, Hunk.
(upbeat playful music)
(machines whirring)
(telephones ringing)
- Hello?
Hello? Hello?
(waves crashing)
- Hi.
- Hi.
- What happened to your nap?
- Sabotaged.
After you left, every
appliance in the house
turned itself on.
I couldn't turn them off.
I mean, don't you hear it?
- Hear what?
- It stopped.
- Hunk, are you having another dream?
- No, no, Sunny.
I never went to sleep.
Ten minutes ago, they were all
running without electricity.
- Nothing runs without electricity.
- Yeah.
- You still haven't written your
acceptance speech for the banquet.
- Sunny, forget about the banquet.
You're meeting the Devil
tonight at midnight.
- Settle down.
- Maybe O'Brien too.
- Alright.
Suppose I do meet the Devil.
Who are you going to choose?
Me or Bradley?
I love you so much, Sunny.
I still don't know.
(swinging jazz music)
- Let's get another shot
of us shaking hands.
- Why not?
- What time is it?
- It's two minutes later than
the last time you asked me.
It's ten thirty-two.
- We have to meet Dr. D. at midnight.
I'm going to sleep tomorrow
no matter who I am.
- And I'll be with you.
- No matter who I am?
- You'll be Hunk, you'll see.
- I sure with O'Brien could see me
getting the key to the city.
- I'm sure she's watching.
- Look at that sap.
Reminds me of the cocktail lounge
on the Luisitania.
Happy memories.
Bon Appetit.
(silverware clinks on glassware)
- Attention everybody.
It's award time.
As president of the Sea
Spray Homeowners Association,
it is my honor to honor one of our own.
A man I am proud to call my friend.
When he first appeared here in Sea Spray,
I realized he was someone very special
and now the world knows it too.
- What a phony.
(applause)
- Hunk, we're presenting you with
the key to Sea Spray tonight,
but you'll never have to use it.
Why?
Because our homes and hearts
are open to you forever.
(applause)
- Little bit corny, but the crowd digs it.
What do they know?
(applause)
Hunk Golden, please step
forward for the presentation.
(applause)
And if I may say so,
this key is nothing compared to the lady
who is the sunny-side in Hunk's life,
Dr. Sunny Graves.
(applause)
And here to present the key
is the honorary mayor of Sea Spray,
the star of America's favorite
light knockwurst commercials,
Skeet Mecklenburger.
(applause)
- Thank you.
(clapping)
Hunk, everybody here knows
that I hated you on sight,
but I've got to hand it to you.
You did put me in my place.
(applause)
We called you a superman for doing it.
Somehow, it seems a super
guy deserves more than a key.
He deserves a crown.
(audience gasps)
- Skeet, what have you done?
We have t-shirt rights.
Hell of a superman.
- If that Skeet screws up my plans,
I'll bring him back as a whoopie cushion.
- Hunk? Hunk, wake up.
- Will somebody wake that sucker up?
I need him.
Come on.
You've gotta wake up.
(explosion)
(gunfire)
- Brilliant stroke, Hunk.
Making our Devil's
Brigade raid on Sea Spray
look like an enemy sneak attack.
- I promised you World
War Three by dinnertime.
- All those Yuppie snobs
you hated are dead meat now.
Dead meat now.
Did you kill them all yourself?
- [Hunk] Shucks, Dr. D.
- Don't be modest.
- Maybe just a little bit.
(imitating a machine gun)
- Calm it down, calm it down.
Good boy.
There's just one little formality.
Before you can truly commit
your soul to my wicked work,
you must get rid of your better half.
We have all the fixings right here.
That sappy, sentimental side of your soul
must be destroyed.
You have anything to say
for yourself, Brinkman?
- Hunk, don't do this to us.
All evil and no play
makes Hunk a dull demon.
- Ready?
- You're gonna miss me.
The good things are what life's all about.
You can't want to be the guy who
started World War Three.
- Aim.
- All this just to get laid more
and to guest-host on the Carson show?
Please, give an innocent
better half a break.
- My favorite word.
Fire.
- Hunk, please.
No.
(gunshots)
- Fire.
Fire!
You're still alive.
- Of course we're still alive.
- Except for the people
that ate the roast beef.
- For a second there,
I was kissing all my --
your investments goodbye.
- What happened?
- Skeet crowned you with
the key to Sea Spray.
Are you alright?
- Yeah.
What time is it?
- My watch stopped.
- It's ten minutes to midnight.
- Oh, God.
- Hunk, come on.
Enough for one day.
- I have an appointment with Dr. D.
- Hunk, you could have a concussion.
- Come on, before it's too late.
- Wait a minute.
The key, the presentation.
Where are you going?
- [Hunk] To the Devil.
- [Both] Our investments.
- No way I'm gonna be the guy
who started World War Three.
- How can you say you started a war
that hasn't even begun?
- In the future it has, Sunny.
It starts right here in Sea Spray.
- Well, it's almost midnight.
Who are you going to
be one minute from now?
- Bradley Brinkman.
- What?
- Sunny, I know if you truly love me,
the me inside is not
going to matter to you
if I come packaged in a
different kind of body.
- I do love you.
I love what's inside, but Hunk,
sometimes you have to accept who you are.
- You know, sometimes you
sound just like O'Brien.
The only limitation in
our relationship is that
you can't understand
what I've been through.
When you meet Dr. D a
few seconds from now,
you will though.
Come on.
(eerie suspenseful music)
- I told you he'd be here, Sunny.
- Is this some kind of trick?
- I wish it were.
Come on.
(demons screaming)
- There you are.
While you away, I whipped
up a few little goodies
to celebrate closing our deal.
- Dr. D. at your service, Sunny.
- Impeccable service it is, too.
Cannibal Canapes?
All-white meat missionary,
no agnostic fillers.
Fantastic Titanic iceberg lettuce salad,
killer tomatoes and
deviled eggs a la moi.
- There's no deal, Dr. D.
- What?
- A life of selfish pleasure
and an eternal afterlife
as one of your henchmen
is a rotten exchange.
I want Sunny to meet O'Brien right now.
- O'Brien will be around.
Let's not talk about O'Brien.
Why let a few dreams
scare you when you can be
a living nightmare yourself?
- I want to be Bradley Brinkman again.
Why can't O'Brien be here to see this?
- Oh, she'll see it alright.
So be it.
Exit Hunk Golden,
enter Bradley Brinkman.
(electronic pulsing hum)
- This is Bradley Brinkman.
This is me.
It had to be this way, Sunny.
- The game is up for her,
too, Bradley Brinkman.
- What?
Come out, come out, wherever you are
- What?
(laughing)
- The Devil made her do it.
- I thought that you loved me.
- I did.
I do.
Bradley, you made the right decision.
All the dreams were true.
I had to lie to get you to close the deal.
You believed in your old self more.
- And I believed in you.
Now what?
- Dismissal.
- My deal's off too.
- Your deal?
- A fabulous deal,
until she got sentimental and sloppy.
- I had to land a soul
a century for Dr. D.
That was my deal.
- She hasn't made a score since
Otto von Bismarck in 1887.
- I'm too much a romantic to keep
recruiting nice guys for the Devil's work.
Nice guys like you.
- Then why do you keep doing it?
- I was afraid.
I am afraid
to be the real me.
The one that sold her soul
to Dr. D. in the first place.
- Wait a minute.
You're Sunny, or you were.
You were the one who taught me that
people exist on the
inside, not on the outside.
Even if it was to deceive me,
the love I felt from you came
from some wonderful person.
I think.
- I'm really touched.
I'm very touched.
But if you'll excuse me,
I have to catch an ill wind to Beirut.
Since it's Hitler's birthday,
I'll make you one last offer.
Six month extension to
make good on being bad.
- [Bradley] No way.
- Six months?
- No, don't.
Whoever you are, or were,
don't be afraid.
There is a person inside of you
who is warm and loving.
I know, I felt it.
- O'Brien?
Remember how lonely you were?
- You can't be lonelier than running
a time-traveling
sell-your-soul-to-Satan service.
- Well ...
- Don't be afraid to be the
person who you are inside.
- Strong enough to come back to Earth
as yourself used to be?
- I was.
- I'm staying with ---
- Unlimited credit on an Inferno Card?
- I'm staying with Bradley.
- Yes.
- Oh to heaven with both of you.
I'll have plenty of takers
across the centuries
to carry out my master plan.
To make all the happy
endings in history evil ones.
Like all those Lassie movies.
So be it.
(electronic pulsing hum)
There she is .
Princess Lucilla of Lumpshire,
just as I found her in the 10th Century,
after her father sold her to the Vikings.
Nine centuries of vicious, vile training,
down the tubes of time.
- Lucilla?
Why did your father sell you?
- I wasn't as beautiful as my sister,
Princess Cassava, so I
sold my soul to Dr. D
to escape and become beautiful.
Like you.
- You're a princess.
- A princess without a
castle, without a job.
Well, I'm going.
- Who's side are you on this time?
- What does it matter,
so long as mankind is miserable.
Ciao.
- So, you've been ---
- Returned to Earth, to live
out the rest of my mortal life.
Like you.
- Like me.
Who would ever believe this?
- You would, Bradley.
(waves crashing)
- Oh my goodness, Bradley?
What about your program?
It's due today.
- It came to me last night,
when I met the real you.
- What is it?
- The Princess Program:
How to Live Royally on
a Regular Week's Pay.
What do you think?
- What do I think?
Bradley?
- Hm?
Are you disappointed?
- Disappointed with what?
- That you gave up the new you
and ended up with the old me,
always second best?
- You're second best?
Never.
Not nine hundred years ago,
not now,
not ever.
(romantic music)
- Funny.
Hunk disappears and
Bradley Brinkman returns.
They both were always looking
for the same woman, too.
- And it looks like Brinkman
finally got himself a girl.
- [Chachka] What'd you expect?
Hunk must have rubbed off on him.
I wake from what seemed a dream
But things are not what they seem
Follow your heart
And take a second look at us now
When you wish upon a dream
Make believe
Make it your destiny
Too busy living while life passes by
Dreams are not what they seem
Underneath there's a dream
Don't be afraid to take
a second look at us now
Let your inside out
For the world to see
Discover my soul in your fantasy
(instrumental)
Visions of tomorrow
We forgot to dream today
Why waste your life away
See yourself in a different light
Through your magic eyes can't you see
Things are not what they seem
Underneath there's a dream
A dream of hope
So take a second look at us now
At us now
At us now
Look at us now