GK: Oh boy. I thought I smelled a witch.
SS (WITCH: And you were so right, my pretty. Come closer. Smell my breath.
GK: I don't want to smell your breath. (SHE EXHALES) It smells like roadkill.
SS (WITCH: A raccoon. But what I really wanted was child meat.
GK: You are so cruel.
SS (WITCH: Me? Cruel? (WITCH LAUGHTER) An eight-year-old child is so tasty. They're so tender and yet tangy. And sort of minty. That's why I didn't eat you when you were eight. I didn't think you'd taste good at all.
SS (WITCH: You were alone a lot. Little boy with glasses, nose in a book. Nobody wanted to play with you because you were -- weird.
GK: Moi? Au contraire.
SS (WITCH: I much preferred happy little children. The roly-poly ones. You were skinny. You smelled bitter.
GK: So weirdness saved my life.
SS (WITCH: It did.
GK: And now I'm going to save the lives of some happy little children.
SS (WITCH: What are you doing? No! (THEY STRUGGLE) Don't! Please! -- (SPLOSH, SCREAM, BUBBLING WATER)
TR (VAMPIRE): I too prefer small children but I like the skinny ones. The ones with long necks. I see a couple of them in the audience. Mmmmmmm boy. Brad would sure love to sink his teeth in them. Oh boy.
GK: Your name is Brad? I thought it was Vlad.
TR (VAMPIRE): Yes. My dad is Vlad. I am Brad.
GK: Okay. You've never thought of becoming a vegan?
TR (VAMPIRE): My therapist put me on an all-beet diet once.
GK: You have a therapist.
TR (VAMPIRE): We're working through some issues I have with mirrors.
GK: You're afraid of mirrors.
TR (VAMPIRE): I'm learning to face myself.
TR (VAMPIRE): I have a garlic complex, too. And a blood fixation. But I'm making progress. I'm down to one victim every three days.
GK: How about crucifixes?
TR (VAMPIRE): (HE SHUDDERS)
GK: What if I were to make a cross with my fingers? Like this--
TR (VAMPIRE): (HE HOWLS WITH PAIN)
GK: I can see you're in a vulnerable place right now--
TR (VAMPIRE): I'm hungry.
TR (VAMPIRE): Very hungry. Even you look good to me. Ordinarily I don't go for jowls, a turkey neck like yours is a real turn-off, but I am extremely hungry. Come here. Let me look at you.
GK: Beat it. And take this crucifix with you. (A FEW FOOTSTEPS TURN INTO A SCREECHING BAT)
GK: Tim Russell--
TR: Like to speak with you, Boss Man. (HEAVY BREATHING)
GK: I see you're holding an axe there. A giant sharp axe that you're gripping pretty tightly. Something you want to talk about?
TR: Thinking about that check you gave me last week. The show in Tulsa. (SNORT, SPIT)
GK: Oh right, the check for the show.
TR: Wondering where the rest of it went.
GK: Were you expecting a higher check?
TR: I was.
GK: I can talk to payroll, she can work something out-
TR: It's too late for that-
GK: What are you doing with that axe?
TR: What axe? (AXE SWINGS, CRASHES INTO SOMETHING) Oh, that axe. Did I just bust that chair you were sitting on?
GK: Put the axe away-please-
TR: (DEMENTED CONFUSED CHUCKLING) The axe is telling me to swing it again. I don't think I have a choice. It's telling me to --(AXE SWINGS, CRASHING)
GK: Oh please. Go away. (MOANING) You're such a nuisance. Pieces of your flesh fall off and we have to clean it up and you smell bad and you're boring.
TK (ZOMBIE): I'm the living dead. I've been lying in a grave for a hundred years. You wouldn't look that great either. Water leaking in your coffin. Your brains leaking out of your head. Excuse me. (SQUORT, SPLAT) There.
GK: Go back to the grave. We don't want you.
TK (ZOMBIE): I came because I had to tell you something.
GK: I don't want to hear it-
TK (ZOMBIE): I'm a huge fan of your show.
GK: No!!!! No!!!! Please!!!!
TK (ZOMBIE): All of us love your show. All my friends do. You have a lot of friends in the zombie community. (THUMP). Whoops. My hand fell off. Sorry.
GK: Just go away.
TK (ZOMBIE): I read your books and I laugh. I laugh and laugh and laugh. (ZOMBIE LAUGHTER, SPLORT)
GK: Sir, your face just fell off.
TK (ZOMBIE): I know. Let me put it back. (SPLORT, SPLAT) Whoops. Upside down.
GK: Just go. Get out of here.
TK (ZOMBIE): You treat all your fans like this?
GK: Go. The exit is that way. Don't let the door hit you-- (WHACK, SPLORT) Oh boy. Now your chest fell off.
TK (ZOMBIE): No, my chest just fell down into my pants. Same as you.
GK: Get out of here. (MOANING)