Oh my god! The Scoleri brothers!
Friends of yours?
I tried 'em for murder! Gave 'em the chair! You've gotta do something!
Why don't you just tell them you don't believe in ghosts?
Oh my god! The Scoleri brothers!
Friends of yours?
I tried 'em for murder! Gave 'em the chair! You've gotta do something!
Why don't you just tell them you don't believe in ghosts?
Do.
Re.
Egon. [Venkman and Stantz stare at him and he smiles back]
Vigo the Carpathian. Born 1505, died 1610.
105 years old? He hung in there, didn't he?
He didn't die of old age, either. He was poisoned, stabbed, shot, hung, stretched, disemboweled, drawn and quartered.
Ouch.
Guess he wasn't too popular at the end, huh?
No, not exactly a man of the people. Also known as Vigo the Cruel, Vigo the Torturer, Vigo the Despised, and Vigo the Unholy.
Wasn't he also Vigo the Butch?
And dig this, there was a prophecy. Just before his head died, his last words were "Death is but a door, time is but a window: I'll be back."
We're running out of time, Ray, it's almost midnight. Can't you make her go any faster?
I'm afraid the vibrations will shake her to pieces. We should have padded her feet!
I don't think they make Nikes in her size, Ray.
Don't worry, she's tough. She's a harbor chick!
Sorry, my fault!
Now we become one.
'Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and ne'er brought to mind...'
Where's that singing coming from?
The people outside!
'If auld aquaintance be forgot, remember Auld Lang Syne!'
He's weakening! The singing is neutralizing the slime!
I can move!
He's back in the painting!
We've been experimenting with the plasm we found in the subway tunnel. Careful.
Should I get spoons?
Don't bother. [Ray sets the container on the table for everyone to see] Watch this. Go ahead, Ray.
You! You worthless piece of slime!
You ignorant, disgusting blob! [slime reacts]
You're nothing but an unstable, short-chain molecule! [slime reacts]
You foul, obnoxious muck! [slime reacts]
You have a weak electrochemical bond! [slime reacts]
I have seen some disgusting crud in my time, but you take the cake!
Whoa, whoa!
You're a – You just –
Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa.
This is what you do with your spare time?
Peter, this is an incredible breakthrough. I mean, what a discovery! A psychoreactive substance! Whatever this stuff is, it responds to human emotional states.
Mood slime. [to slime affectionately] Oh, baby...
You mean this stuff actually feeds on bad vibes?
Like a cop in a donut factory.
We've been running tests to see if we can get an equally strong positive reaction.
What kind of tests?
Well, we sing to it, and, uh, we talk to it, and say...supportive, nurturing things to it...
You're not sleeping with it, are you, Ray?
Oh, you!
It's always the quiet ones.
You hound!
Lenny. Big man.
The Ghostbusters.
Mr. Mayor? [holds out his hand, wanting to shake his hand]
What is this? A slumber party?
Well, that's why we wanted to see you.
Listen, I don't want to hear anything about it. You got two minutes. Make it good.
Well, first of all, Mr. Mayor, it's a great pleasure to see you again, and you'll be happy to know that almost fifty percent of us voted for you in the last election.
I appreciate that.
I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.
Mr. Mayor, we're here tonight because a psychomagnatheric slimeflow of immense proportions is building up beneath the city.
Psycho-what?
Psychomagnatheric.
Big word, big word.
Negative human emotions that are forming into a vicious ectoplasm with *explosive* supernormal potential.
Can somebody speak English here?
Uh yeah. Your honor, what we're trying to say is all of the bad feelings. You know hate, anger and the vibes of the city are turning into this sludge. I didn't believe in it either. But, we just went for a swim in it and end up almost killing each other.
This is insane! Do we really have to listen to this?
Can't you stop your lips from flapping for 2 little minutes? [to the Mayor] Lenny, have you been out on the street lately, do you know weird it is out there? We've taken our own headcount, there seems to be 3 *million* completely miserable assholes living in the Tri-State area.
Please.
I beg your pardon, 3 million and one.
Hey.
And what fudgy brain here doesn't realize, that if we don't do something fast this whole place is gonna blow like a frog on a hot plate.
Yeah, right.
What do you want me to do, go on television and tell 3 million people they have to be nice to each other? [begins to walk off] Being miserable and treating other people like dirt is every New Yorker's God-given right. Your two minutes are up. Good night, gentlemen. [leaves]
Hey fellas! You wanna take a look at this?
Wow!
Early Renaissance, I think. Raphael, or Piero della Francesca?
No, I believe it's one of the Fettuccinis.
[The painting now shows the Ghostbusters wearing togas and clustered around Oscar.]