Act 1: Fright Night 40th Anniversary Original Cast Table Read

Table read, Fright Night, original cast. Amen.
That's right. Fright Night, written and directed by Tom Holland.
Fade in. Exterior, full moon, night.
Clouds obscure the starless heavens for a moment, heavy and ominous in the black firmament. Then, suddenly, they clear, exposing a full moon streaked with red like a killer's face.
A stalking moon staring down at man's evil on Earth below. A how breaks the night.
A wolf pursuing its prey perhaps, or perhaps something much, much worse. What was that? Just a child of the night, Jonathan.
Exterior. Rancho Corballos.
Night. We pan from a darkened, middling-sized town, lost somewhere in the southwest, down a darkened, typical middle-class suburban street, continuing past several houses.
One large, old, foreboding, its windows dark and vacant, a for-sale sign on the lawn with a sold sign just beneath it. The other smaller home next to it, in sharp contrast to the first house, newly painted, its lawn neatly shorn.
We push in closer on the smaller home, searching for the source of the voices. Come, sit here beside me on the veranda.
It's chilly out here. Oh, no, it isn't.

It's beautiful.

I love the night zone.

I've never seen you look so beautiful before, Nina.

So pale, so luminescent, so...

We push in closer on the smaller home,

searching for the source of the voices,

continuing up and through the second floor window.

Yes?

Your lips are... are so red.

Are they?

Would you like to kiss them?

The sound of a long, drawn-out kiss.

Why are you looking at me so strangely, Nina?

We pass the billowing drapes to find ourselves staring at a TV.

The flickering screen, the only light in the room.

Interior, Brewster House.

Charlie's room, night.

One of those AIF Hammer-type horror films is on the tube.

A woman, obviously a vampire, talking to one of those vapid juveniles.

Not you, Jonathan.

Your neck. Has anyone ever told you it was beautiful? No.
Come. Lay your head on my breast.
The young man rests his head against her, incredibly enough, unaware that she is bending toward his neck with huge fangs. Just as she about to sink them into his jugular, a tall Saturnine man steps out of the darkness, wearing a rather daffy Victorian suit.
He opens his vampire kit slung over his shoulder and grabs a crucifix, mallet, and wooden stake, holding the crucifix dramatically in front of him. This man is Peter Vincent.
Stop, you creature of the night. Miss Nina hissing.
Who are you who interrupts my nightly feeding? I am Peter Vincent, vampire killer. He rushes her, the stake held high to plunge into her breast.
Keep away! Keep away from me! We turn away from the TV as the sounds of the movie crossfade with the sounds of heavy breathing.

Charlie Brewster and Amy Peterson,

two 16-year-olds,

are on the floor,

wedged between the bed and the window

and making out like crazy.

And now, your host, Peter Vincent. The horror movie has faded out to be replaced by the interior of a local TV studio, a tacky graveyard the centerpiece.
The visage of Peter Vincent, much older now, rising out of a cheap wooden coffin, fills the screen. This is Peter Vincent, bringing you Fright Night Theater.
Charlie, totally oblivious to the TV, works on Amy's bra, trying to get it undone. Amy tries to distract him.
Charlie, Peter Vincent's on. Forget Peter Vincent.
But you love him. But I love you more.
Amy giggles as once again as Charlie moves in.

Charlie, stop it.

Tonight's journey into horror is Blood Castle.

It is one of my favorites and for a very good reason.

I star in it.

He laughs over dramatically as Charlie finally gets Amy's bra done.

Charlie, I said stop it. Charlie jumps up, standing by the window.
Damn it, Amy, give me a break. We've been going together almost a year and all I ever hear is Charlie, stop it! The sounds of Fright Night Theater breaks the silence.
I'm sorry, Amy. Me too.
I'm just scared, that's all? Charlie nods as she moves to him at the open window and steps into his arms kissing him as she never has before She breaks and looks into his eyes Let's get into bed You mean it they kiss the two of them slowly turning Charlie facing the window to the side yard next door over Amy's shoulder.

There, below, he sees two shadowy figures carrying what looks very much like a coffin toward the cellar doors of the house next door.

Amy slips out of his arms and onto the bed.

She starts to take off her blouse.

He has his binoculars up and glued to the weird scene outside his window as Amy lays uncomfortably back on the bed, looking up at him. Charlie? I'm ready? The figures are too dark to make out clearly, but they are Jerry Dandridge and Billy Cole.
Amy, you're not going to believe this, but there are two guys out in the yard below. I think they're carrying a coffin.
Amy looks at the TV to see a similar scene of some men carrying a coffin through a fog-shrouded landscape. Sure.
And they're on the moors, right? Amy, I'm serious. So am I.
Do you want to make love or not? The two figures below, having gotten the cellar doors open, carry the coffin into the basement of the house. Amy, quick, come on, you gotta see this.
The bedroom door slams shut. He whirls to find her gone.
Charlie runs out and scrambles down the stairs after her. Amy? Okay, okay, maybe it wasn't a coffin, but I did see two guys carrying something into that house.
I don't understand you. First you want to make love, and then you don't.
They reach the bottom of the stairs, only to have a voice from the living room stop them. Amy? Charlie? What's wrong? They stop, turning to stare through the doorway at Charlie's mother, Judy Brewster, sitting in the living room, watching the 10 o'clock news.
Uh, nothing, Mom.

Come in here, you two.

Living room, night.

Are you kids having a lover's spat?

No, Mom, nothing like that.

Well, there's nothing wrong with it.

It says right here the divorce rate is 76% higher among couples who don't argue before marriage.

Mom, we're in high school.

Well, it never hurts to plan ahead.

Oh, Amy, would you remind your mother we are playing poker at her house this weekend?

Yes, Mrs. Brewster.

Well, good night, Charlie.

Yeah, good night.

He moves toward the window that stares out at the house next door. Good night, Mrs.
Brewster. Good night, Charlie.
Yeah, good night. He moves toward the window that stares out at the house next door.
Good night, Mrs. Brewster.
Good night, Amy. Thanks for helping Charlie with his homework.
Anytime. See you tomorrow, Charlie.
He continues to stare out the window. Amy turns and stomps out of the room, the front door slamming behind her.
Charlie, that wasn't very nice, not walking Amy to the front door. Mom, there are people next door.
Oh, I guess the new owner's moving in. What new owner? Oh, didn't I tell you? Bob Hopkins said he finally got rid of the place.
Who'd he sell it to? I don't know. Some fellow who fixes up houses for a living.
Supposed to be very attractive, though. I just hope whoever he is, he knows what he's getting into with this house.
It's going to take a lot of work just to make it livable. We leave them behind, pushing in tighter and tighter on the TV Judy was watching.
Their voice is replaced by the newscaster. And now for the local news.
A man was found murdered tonight behind the railroad yards. Details are pending and awaiting notification of next of kin.
Exterior, high school, day. Kids are flooding out of the classrooms as Charlie comes out of one of them, holding a test paper.
Another kid comes out right behind him, holding a test paper with a big A-plus on it. It's evil Ed Thompson.
Thank you, Mr. Smith.
Have a good weekend. Bastard! Why didn't he tell us he was gonna spring a pop quiz? Uh, well, that's the point to a pop quiz, Brewster, to surprise you.
Thanks, Teach. Suddenly, Amy charges between them, pushing them apart and disappearing into the crowd.
Amy! Amy! She finally found out what you're really like? Buzz off, evil. Call me anything you want.
Only you're the one failing Trig, not me, okay? He walks off. Exterior, street, day.
Charlie pulls his red beater 68 Mustang into the driveway.

He gets out, carrying his school books and heads for the front door.

Just as he bends down to pick up the evening paper, a cab pulls up and a girl gets out.

Charlie stops cold. She is definitely one of the most spectacular women he's ever seen.

She smiles at him, looking like a little girl lost.

Oh, is this 99 Oak?

No, no, it's next door.

Oh, thanks.

Charlie watches the girl disappear into the dandridge house

with a low whistle of appreciation.

Interior, Brewster House, dining room, day. Judy is setting the table for dinner.
Hey, Mom. Yeah, I'm in here.
Have you seen the new guy next door yet? No, but I did hear he's got a live-in carpenter. With my luck, he's probably gay.
No, I don't think so. Why? What do you know that I don't? Oh, nothing.
I gotta go study. I'll see you later.
He cuts a beeline for his room. Study? You? Dissolve to.
Charlie's room. Night.
He's hard at work at his desk when over his shoulder a light comes on behind the drawn shade of the bedroom window of the house next door. Suddenly, a woman screamed.

High-pitched and terrified, shatters the night.

Charlie whirls, sending his books crashing to the floor,

staring out his window at the lit window in the Dandridge house.

The light snaps out,

darkness blanking the entire wall of the Dandridge house.

Dissolved, too.

Interior, fast food joint, day.

It's the after-school hangout. A bunch of tables.

Rock music playing in the background.

Kids mill about. A TV blaring on the counter.

Charlie sits at a booth, trying to study, as Amy quietly slips in across from him.

Hi.

Hi.

Look, I'm really sorry about the other night. Oh, it was my fault, not yours.
It was? Look, Amy, I love you, and I never want to fight with you again, okay? I'm so glad we're getting this straightened out. I've been miserable the last two days.
You don't know what it's been like. Over her shoulder, he suddenly sees on the TV a picture of a girl who looks very much like the one he saw going into the dandridge house.
The second victim, whose body was found early this morning, was a known prostitute. Not talking to you on the phone.
Charlie, are you listening to me? He gets up and walks to the TV, staring up at it as the newscaster's voice runs over the picture of the girl. She was positively identified as Cheryl Lane.
The badly mutilated corpse was found under the North Creek Bridge by the Old Mill. As yet, the police have no leads.
Evil Ed steps up beside him. Charlie, you know what I heard on the police band last night? What? That wasn't the only murder.
It's the second in two days. And get this, both of them had their heads chopped off.
Can you believe it? You're sick. Amy grabs a burger from a kid and approaches Charlie.
Charlie? He turns, and she grinds the chili burger into his face and stomps off, leaving him standing

there, his face dripping with chili, onions, and burgers. You're so cool, Brewster.
I can't stand it. exterior Brewster house day Charlie parks his Mustang in the backyard and

heads toward the back door. He stops, sets down his books, and studies the dandruff house looming over him.
Interior, dandruff house, basement, day. Billy Cole is painting over a basement window when he sees Charlie slowly walking toward the house.
Exterior. Brewster and Dandridge houses.
Day. Charlie walks the distance to the storm doors, stopping above them, staring down at the handles.
One quick glance around tells him the Dandridge house is deserted. He bends down and grabs the handles and starts to pull.
Hey, kid! What are you doing? Charlie jerks up, letting the doors thunk home. There on the front porch stands Billy Cole.
He's big and solid, a threatening grin on his face. N-nothing? Oh yeah? We'll just make sure it stays that way.
Kid. A terrified Charlie turns and runs back to his house as Billy watches him go.

Dissolved to.

Exterior.

Dandridge House.

Night.

The two houses sit side by side.

The Dandridge House has changed, although it's hard to say exactly how.

It just seems worse than before.

More abandoned.

More hulking.

More dead.

Interior.

Charlie's room. Night.
Charlie has the house next door staked out. He sits in a chair before his window, only a cheap horror film flickering on the TV.
He brings his binoculars up to stare at the dark window of the house next door. Dissolved to.
Charlie's room. Later that night.
The TV is flickering snow now.

Charlie is now sound asleep, breathing deeply.

Groggily, he sits up to find himself staring into the lit window of the bedroom next door.

He can see clearly into the room as a beautiful young girl with alabaster skin and chestnut hair stands,

framed in the window, slowly taking her blouse off.

She undoes her bra, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her bare breasts showing. Jerry Dandred steps out of the shadows behind the girl, sweeping her hair back, exposing her tender young neck as he slowly leans down as though to kiss her.
Jerry's upper lip slowly begins to pull back, revealing just the hint of fangs, long, razor sharp, and sparkling pearly white in the moonlight. Suddenly, Jerry stops, the fangs poised an inch above the girl's throat.
He slowly raises his head, staring out the window into Charlie's bedroom. Charlie gasps in horror as he retreats into the darkness of his room, as Jerry slowly walks to the window, never breaking his gaze with Charlie,

reaches up and slowly pulls down the shade, revealing long, claw-like fingers.

The binoculars slip from Charlie's hand, crashing to the floor,

and he whirls around, racing out of the room.

Judy's room, night. He bursts through the door to find his mother, sound asleep in bed.
Mom, you gotta get up, mom. I can't believe what's happening next door.
What? What? What are you talking about? He has fangs. The guy who bought the house has fangs.
Oh, fangs. That's lovely, Charlie.
I have to get up at seven tomorrow.

He hears a car door slam in the yard next door and jumps to the window,

peering out into the back of the Dandridge house just in time to see Billy Cole walking away from a shiny new black Cherokee Jeep,

its back door left open.

Charlie dashes out of the room.

Fangs? Charlie?

Charlie pounds down the stairs and flies down the hall toward the back door.

Exterior. Brewster and Dandridge's house is night.

Charlie slips out his back door and through the darkness into the adjoining yard.

There, among a clump of bushes, he crouches down.

Suddenly, the back door to the Dandridge's house opens,

and Billy comes out carrying a large bundle in a plastic trash bag over his shoulder. He dumps it in the back of the Jeep as suddenly there is a terrific whoosh over Charlie's head, the beating of large wings above causing the bushes around him to bend and sway.
Charlie lifts his head, peering about to see a shape step out of the darkness. It's Jerry Dandridge.

He glides toward the jeep, tossing Billy a woman's purse.

You forgot something.

Billy one-hands it out of the air as Jerry takes a juicy bite of an apple.

Just then, the back door to Charlie's house opens, sending a shaft of light into the darkness.

Judy Brewster stands in the doorway.

Charlie?

Jerry and Billy freeze, both of them whirling around to look at the Brewster house.

Thank you. into the darkness.
Judy Brewster stands in the doorway. Charlie? Jerry and Billy freeze, both of them whirling around to look at the Brewster house.
Charlie? Jerry takes a step forward, his eyes probing the murky blackness. He tosses the apple, landing directly in front of Charlie.
As Jerry takes a few steps in his direction, a terrified Charlie suddenly leaps to his feet and races back into his house, pushing Judy back through the door and running in. Billy steps forward to follow the boy, but Jerry puts out a hand, stopping him.
Interior, Brewster House, kitchen, night. Charlie sits at the kitchen table, his mother putting a cup of hot cocoa on the table.
I hate cooking things in the microwave it never melts the marshmallows right mom i don't need hot drink that oh sorry once again drink that mom i don't need hot cocoa i didn't have a nightmare they did kill a girl over there oh how you stay up studying? I'm not sick. The guy did have fangs and a bat did fly over my head and a second later he stepped out of the shadows.
Don't you see what that means? Oh, wait, wait, wait, let me guess. Oh, what? He's a vampire.
Oh, a what? Match cut to. Interior, Amy's house.
Day. A what? A vampire? Dammit, haven't you listened to anything I've said? Charlie, is this some kind of trick to get me back? Forget it.
I'm going to the police. Charlie, you can't go to the police with a story like that.
They'll lock you up. All right, then.
I won't tell them it's a vampire, but I sure as hell am going to tell them about the two women. Charlie.
Charlie! He slams out the back door. Exterior, street, day.
A police car pulls up in front of the Dandridge house. Charlie and a red Mustang right behind him.
Charlie exits his car and runs to Lieutenant Detective Lennox. You sure about this now? Charlie nods, and the cop turns and heads toward the house, Charlie following.
Exterior, Dandridge house, day. Lieutenant Lennox knocks on the door and the door opens, revealing Billy Cole.
Yes? Mr. Dandridge? Uh, no, I'm his roommate, Billy Cole.
Lieutenant Lennox, homicide. Mind if we come in? No, not at all.
Come on in. Interior, Dandridge House, day.
The house is a mess of moving boxes and heavy Victorian furniture scattered everywhere. A number of the pieces still under white dust covers.
Clocks line one wall, none of them working, all set at 6 p.m. This is quite a place you have here.
Yeah, we're restoring it. Where's Mr.
Dandridge? He's away on business. Is there anything I can help you with? There was a murder last night.
Charlie lives next door, thinks he saw the victim in this house. Well, that's impossible.
I was here with Jerry all last night. There's nobody else in the house.
Charlie looks into a crate. That's a lie.
I saw him carry a body out in a plastic bag. What do you say to that, Mr.
Cole? The kid's obviously a crazy officer. I did take some bags out last night, but they were full of trash.
Pulling out packing material, Charlie reveals an old painting of a girl who looks just like Amy,

only sees dressed for the 1700s.

Amy?

Here, let me show you.

Look, the bag I saw had a body in it, not trash.

Oh, you actually see the body, Charlie, huh?

Well, no, but... Okay.

Look, let me take you out back. I'll show you the bags I put in the...
God, sorry. Oh, my God.
It's like I got 15 lines. Okay.
Look, let me take you out back. I'll show you the bags I put in the garbage.
Okay. Let's see him.
Look, I can prove he's lying. Let's look in the basement instead.
What's down there? Yes, Charlie. What's down there? Billy stares Charlie down.
Well, obviously the boys made him a steak officer. You know how kids do.
A coffin! That's what's down there, a coffin. I saw them carry it in.
What? Yeah, and you'll find Jerry Dandridge in it, sleeping the sleep of the undead.ead. Billy laughs.
For heaven, what are you talking about? He's a vampire. Uh-oh.
I saw him in that room last night. He had fangs and he bit her on the neck.
Billy whistles and makes the sign of the cross. For heaven's sake.
Come on. What are you talking about? Wait, we can't just leave like this.
I've got a coffin for you.

The cop pulls Charlie out the door and hustles him down the walk.

Exterior, street, day.

Lieutenant, please, please listen to me.

I'm telling you, Jerry Dandridge is a vampire.

Sure, and I'm Dirty Harry.

Now, let me tell you something, kid.

If I ever catch your ass down at the station house again, I'm throwing it in jail. Forever.
Lieutenant, please come on. Just listen to me for a sec.
Lennox hops in his car, slamming the door behind him as Charlie hovers by the window. Look, I know it's crazy.
I know that, but Lieutenant! The car roars away as Charlie hears footsteps in the upper porch of the Dandridge house and whirls to find himself staring at Billy Cole, looking back at him. Charlie slowly backs away from him toward his car and glances up at the sky overhead.
The light is beginning to fade. He checks his watch.
It's four in the afternoon. He looks back at Billy Cole, then leaps into his car and tears off down the street.
Interior, Evil Ed's room, day Evil Ed sits at his desk, hand-painting a monster model of a ghoul. Evil's room is a veritable museum of horror.
Movie posters of Frankenstein, Dracula, and the Wolfman dotting the wall. The shelves full of monsters and models, the floor littered with horror comics.
Charlie barges in and skids to a halt. Evil, evil.
And to what do I owe this dubious pleasure? The vampire knows that I know about him, or at least he will when he wakes up tonight. What are you talking about? I have a vampire living next door to me, and he's going to kill me if I don't protect myself.
Ha ha ha. Uh, what? Come on, Evil.
I haven't got time to explain. Just tell me what to do to protect myself.
Oh, God. Very funny, Brewster.
Evil, please. I'm not kidding.
Tell me what to do. Don't call me evil anymore.
Why should I help you anyway? Look, I've got eight bucks. Help me and it's yours.
Evil Ed sweeps the money into his pocket. Far be it for me to turn down a fool's money.
Now, where and when do you expect the vampire to attack? In my bedroom, tonight. Evil Ed pulls a dime store cross from his desk.
Start with this. But you must have total faith in it for it to work.
Then get some garlic, links of the stuff that you can wear around your neck and hang from your window. If he comes for you, that'll be the way.
Then of course, there's holy water. But you gotta get a priest to say a blessing over it first.
That's it? I'm afraid so. Your best protection right now, Chuck, is that a vampire cannot enter your house without being invited by the rightful owner first.
You sure about that? Positive. Thank you.
Thank you. Charlie runs out.
Interior. Charlie's room.
Night. Charlie finishes nailing shut his window and steps back and tests it.
It's secure. Charlie, could you come down here a minute, please? There's someone I'd like you to meet.
Yeah, Mom. Living room, night.
He walks into the living room to find his mother standing there, a drink in her hand. Charlie, this is our next-door neighbor, Jerry Dandridge.

Charlie freezes.

Jerry, sitting in a chair, rises to reveal himself.

Hello, Charlie.

Charlie just stares at him in horror.

Well, Charlie, don't be rude. Shake hands.

Charlie slowly moves to Jerry and takes his hand,

shaking it as one would the hand of a recently disinterred corpse.

What's he doing here?

Oh, I invited him over for a drink.

What?

I invited him over. Why?

What's the matter, Charlie? Afraid I'd never come over without being invited first?

Jerry and Judy laugh.

You're right. You're quite right.

Of course, now that I've been made welcome, I'll probably drop by quite a bit.

In fact, any time I feel like it.

With your mother's kind permission, of course.

Oh, Jerry, any time. It's so nice someone interesting has finally moved into the neighborhood.
Charlie backs away, terrified. Say, Charlie, are you all right? Yeah, fine.
I just gotta get back to my trig, that's all. Nice to meet you, Charlie.
See ya. Soon.
That foreboding feeling has now turned to evil. Interior, Brewster House, Judy's room, night.
Judy is sound asleep, a sleeping mask over her eyes. Darkness and silence, and nothing else but moonlight spilling through the window at the far end of the hall.
Then the sound of wings as a shadow crosses. Charlie is sound asleep in his room, holding his cross, suddenly jolted awake by the sound of footsteps on the roof.
He jumps up, listening to the sound of someone or something walking. Hallway, night.
He peers around the corner, nothing. He tiptoes to the top of the stairs and looks around the living room, nothing but shadows.
Then he hears it. A noise from the

floor below. It sounds like fingernails scratching across glass.
He creeps down the stairs. Then he sees it.
The source of the scratching sound. A tree branch.
Caressed by the wind as it's blown back and forth across a pane of glass. Charlie breathes a sigh of relief.
Judy's room night.

Jerry Dandred stands above Judy, an open window behind him, staring down at her, sleeping peacefully in the bed. He glides across the room past Judy's bureau, past the wall mirror without leaving a reflection, and out the door with unnatural silence.
Hallway, night. Jerry closes the door behind him, giving it a sharp tug that dislodges it from its hinges and moves across the hall toward the open door to Charlie's bedroom, entering while he whistles Strangers in the Night.
I know the tune. It's the whistler that's not working.

Anybody.

I got it.

I can.

Go for it.

Very good.

Too high.

Now I'm worn out.

Now I'm worn out.

Okay. Thank you, Jack.
How's it going, Daniel? Brilliant. Bravo.
Bravo. You're doing everything nice.
I didn't know that was a sign. You did it.
I couldn't get it up. Charlie walks down the hall and disappears into his own room.

He shuts the door softly behind him, notices a light in the Dandridge house opposite his room, which turns off.

As he watches for any activity, the closet door opens silently behind him, revealing Jerry Dandridge.

Charlie quickly turns to find himself facing Jerry.

The vampire's hand whips out with blinding speed and seizes him by the throat. Now, we wouldn't want to wake your mother, would we, Charlie? Then I'd have to kill her, too.
Jerry flings the boy the length of the room with inhuman strength, slamming him into the closet. Charlie slips to the floor, all the air knocked out of him.
Jerry reaches down and grabs the boy by the throat, pulling him up to face him. Do you realize how much trouble you've caused me? Spying on me? Almost disturbing my sleep this afternoon? Telling the policeman about me? He slams him against the opposite wall, Charlie's legs dangling several feet above the floor, kicking.
You deserve to die, boy. Of course.
I could give you something I don't have. A choice.
Forget about me, Charlie. Forget about me, and I'll forget about you.
What do you say, Charlie? Charlie reaches into his pocket, whips out his cross, holding it up and thrusting it into Dandridge's face. Jerry's other hand snaps out and grabs Charlie by the wrist, holding the hand with the cross and beginning to apply pressure.
Fool. Jerry tightens his grip as Charlie writhes in agony, the cross slipping from his fingers and falling to the floor.
Jerry easily flicks off the lock and yanks up the nailed window. He begins to slowly push Charlie out the window.
The boy cranes his neck, glancing over his shoulder. The hard ground is a good 30 feet below.
He turns back to the vampire, fighting for a handhold, grabbing the window frame with one hand, trying to keep himself from falling. His fingers begin to slip as he searches desperately for a handhold.
From a nearby dresser, he grabs a picture of Amy, pulling it out the window as it falls to the fence below, skewering itself on a pointed slat. Jerry continues his assault as Charlie's fingers find a pencil and he slams the point down through Jerry's hand.
Jerry wails in pain as he whirls away from him, the pencil protruding from the back of his hand. He grabs and pulls it out, then turning back to Charlie, his face is no longer human, letting out an unearthly scream that blows Charlie back against the wall.
Woo! Charlie! Charlie! Charlie! Can you hear me? Jerry's head whips back and forth between the door to the hall and Charlie. Charlie? Charlie, is that you? Charlie, my door is stuck.
The vampire whirls and runs out, the curtains blowing wildly, the sound of powerful wings beating away into the night air. Charlie! Charlie runs into the hallway, looking out the window into the night, then slams it shut to find Judy stumbling out of her room.
Charlie, what is going on? Oh, nothing. I just had a nightmare.
Oh, oh, you know, I had one last night. It was awful.
I was at this white sale, and I suddenly realized I was stark naked. They both hear a crash from outside his window.
Now what is it? Charlie grabs her, gently pushing her back. Nothing, nothing, just raccoons in the garbage can.
Why don't you go back to sleep? But, sweetie, what about your nightmare? Do you want a valiant? I'm fine now, honest. Well, I do need my sleep.
I start the night shift tomorrow. Three o'clock in the morning.
It's so bad for my complexion. Night, Mom.
He pushes her through the bedroom door and closes it, then goes to the window and checks. Nothing out there.
Charlie's room. Night.
He clicks on the TV as he paces the room, lost in thought. It's Fright Night Theater again.
He's about to lean over and turn it off when the phone suddenly rings by his side. He picks up the receiver and just listens.
Interior. Dandridge.
Bedroom, night. Blood slowly drips into a bowl of water

as we pan up to see the source of it. It's Jerry's bloody hand.
I know you're there, Charlie.

I can see you. Charlie slowly turns, staring out his window.
There, in the window of the house

next door, stands Jerry, the phone to his ear, staring back at Charlie.

What's the matter, Charlie? Scared? You started this, Charlie, and now I'm going to finish it. Billy kneels at his side, solicitously bandaging his injured hand.
hand. I just destroyed your car Charlie but that's nothing compared to what I'm

gonna do to you bandaging his injured hand. I just destroyed your car, Charlie.

But that's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you tomorrow night.

He hangs up, slowly drawing the shade, blanking out the lit window.

And once again, your host, Peter Vincent.

Charlie hangs up the phone.

On the TV, the horror flick dissolves as Peter Vincent comes on.

Good evening, horror fans.

Did you know there are a lot of people who do not believe in vampires?

But I do, because I know they exist.

I have fought them in all their guises. Charlie straightens, his gaze suddenly riveted to the screen.
Man, wolves, bats, and I have always won. That is why they call me a great vampire killer.
Now, watch me do it. The horror flick resumes, a much younger Peter flinging open a coffin to reveal its sleeping contents, then staking it through the heart, blood spattering his face.
Go, Peter. Go.
Dissolved to. Exterior.
Studio entrance. Day.
Charlie paces back and forth as a dejected Peter Vincent comes out of the studio dressed in his street clothes. His vampire kit slung over his shoulder, heading towards his car as Charlie runs to meet him.
Mr. Vincent? Peter ignores him and keeps walking.
Mr. Vincent, could I talk to you for a minute? Please, Mr.
Vincent, it's very, very important.

What do you want me to sign?

Pardon me?

Well, you do want my autograph, don't you?

No.

No, sir, I was curious about what you said last night on TV, you know, about believing in vampires.

What about it?

Were you serious? Well, absolutely. Unfortunately, none of your generation seems to be.
What do you mean? I have just been fired because nobody wants to see vampire killers anymore. Or vampires either.
Apparently all they want are demented madmen running around in ski masks, hacking up young virgins. Now, if you'll excuse me...
I believe in vampires. That's nice.
If only there'd been a few more of you, perhaps my ratings would have been higher. In fact, I have one living next door to me.
Would you help me kill him? Pardon me? You know the murder of that girl that happened a few days ago? Yes. The guy who lives next door to me did it.
And he's a vampire. If this is your idea of a joke, I am not a muse.
Mr. Vincent, I'm not joking.
I'm deadly serious. Peter stares at him for a beat and decides Charlie's crazy.
Well, if you'll excuse me. Mr.
Vincent, you have to believe me. I'm telling the truth.
Come on, you just said you believed in vampires. I lied.
Now, you leave me alone.

Please, you have to listen to me.

The vampire tried to kill me last night and trashed my car when he didn't succeed.

Now he's going to be back after me tonight, Mr. Vincent,

and if I don't get help, he's going to kill me.

Peter shoves him aside,

hopping into his car,

quickly locking the door behind him.

As he starts the engine,

Charlie beats on the window. Mr.
Vincent he starts the engine, Charlie beats on the

window. Mr.
Vincent, Mr. Vincent, please just listen to me for a second.
Peter hauls ass out

of the lot and disappears down the street. No, no, wait, Mr.
Vincent, wait. End Act One.

Nice job, everybody.