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Arnie Westrum: [drunkenly singing] My beer is Rheingold, the dry beer.Think of Rheingold whenever you buy beer.It's not bitter, not sweet, it's a real frosty treat.Won't you buy, won't you buy Rheingold Beer?Won't you try, won't you buy? [hears the rustle of leaves] Jesus, Arnie. What're you, are you afraid of the Boogeyman? Heh-heh. God. Come on out of there, buster, and give me a hand. All right, what is it that you want, Arnie? I want some Rheingold... As soon as I get that dirt out of there.
[he is decapitated by the werewolf]
Older Jane: [narrating] The killing had begun, but at first, no one knew it. You see, Arnie Westrum was a chronic drunk. And what happened seemed like an accident. The county coroner concluded Arnie had passed out on the tracks. There wasn't enough evidence to conclude anything else.
[he is decapitated by the werewolf]
Older Jane: [narrating] The killing had begun, but at first, no one knew it. You see, Arnie Westrum was a chronic drunk. And what happened seemed like an accident. The county coroner concluded Arnie had passed out on the tracks. There wasn't enough evidence to conclude anything else.
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Jane Coslaw: In the made-up stories, the guy who's the werewolf only changes when the moon is full, but maybe he's like this almost all the time, only as the moon gets fuller...
Marty Coslaw: ...the guy gets wolfier.
Marty Coslaw: ...the guy gets wolfier.
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Jane Coslaw: You always take his side 'cause he's crippled. Well, it's not my fault he's crippled!
Nan Coslaw: You just wanna be quiet or I'm gonna smack you! Now, I mean it!
Nan Coslaw: You just wanna be quiet or I'm gonna smack you! Now, I mean it!
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Sheriff Joe Haller: [to the mob, lead by Andy Fairton] The law has a name for what you people are planning. It's called "private justice". And private justice is about a step and a half away from lynch mobs and hang ropes. Now I may be no J. Edgar Hoover, but I am the law in Tarker's Mills. I want all you people to go home.
Andy Fairton: Don't let this guy scare you! What's he done since this whole thing started but hang his face out? He ain't got so much as a fingerprint!
Owen Knopfler: Shut up, Andy.
Andy Fairton: No, don't tell me to shut up.
Herb Kincaid: Yes... Shut up. I just came from my boy's funeral.
Sheriff Joe Haller: Herb. Herb, I know how upset... how grief-stricken you must be.
Herb Kincaid: He was torn apart.
Sheriff Joe Haller: I know that. I...
Herb Kincaid: Upset? Grief-stricken? You don't know what those words mean. My son was torn to pieces. Pieces! [shouts] MY SON WAS TORN TO PIECES! You come in here and talk to these men about private justice? You dare to do that? Why do you go out to Harmony Hill, Sheriff Haller, and dig up what's left of my boy Brady... and explain to him about private justice. Would you want to do that? As for me, I'm gonna go out and hunt up a little private justice.
[walks out of the bar]
Andy Fairton: [to the mob] You heard him. Let's go!
Andy Fairton: Don't let this guy scare you! What's he done since this whole thing started but hang his face out? He ain't got so much as a fingerprint!
Owen Knopfler: Shut up, Andy.
Andy Fairton: No, don't tell me to shut up.
Herb Kincaid: Yes... Shut up. I just came from my boy's funeral.
Sheriff Joe Haller: Herb. Herb, I know how upset... how grief-stricken you must be.
Herb Kincaid: He was torn apart.
Sheriff Joe Haller: I know that. I...
Herb Kincaid: Upset? Grief-stricken? You don't know what those words mean. My son was torn to pieces. Pieces! [shouts] MY SON WAS TORN TO PIECES! You come in here and talk to these men about private justice? You dare to do that? Why do you go out to Harmony Hill, Sheriff Haller, and dig up what's left of my boy Brady... and explain to him about private justice. Would you want to do that? As for me, I'm gonna go out and hunt up a little private justice.
[walks out of the bar]
Andy Fairton: [to the mob] You heard him. Let's go!
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Uncle Red: Holy jumped-up baldheaded Jesus palomino!
Jane Coslaw: Uncle Red...
Uncle Red: From him I'd expect it. Sometimes I think your common sense got paralyzed along with your legs. But from you, Jane - you're Miss Polly Practical!
Jane Coslaw: You don't understand.
Uncle Red: I understand that my niece and my nephew are sending little love notes to the local minister suggesting he gargle with broken glass or eat a rat-poison omelette!
Jane Coslaw: Uncle Red...
Uncle Red: From him I'd expect it. Sometimes I think your common sense got paralyzed along with your legs. But from you, Jane - you're Miss Polly Practical!
Jane Coslaw: You don't understand.
Uncle Red: I understand that my niece and my nephew are sending little love notes to the local minister suggesting he gargle with broken glass or eat a rat-poison omelette!
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Uncle Red: I mean, uh, what the heck you gonna shoot a .44 bullet at anyway... made out of silver?
Marty Coslaw: How about a werewolf?
Marty Coslaw: How about a werewolf?
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Uncle Red: Where's your Mom?
Marty Coslaw: She and Dad are out back lighting the barbecue, yeah, and Jane's walking around in all these new clothes showing off her tits, acting like no one ever had tits before her.
Marty Coslaw: She and Dad are out back lighting the barbecue, yeah, and Jane's walking around in all these new clothes showing off her tits, acting like no one ever had tits before her.
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Uncle Red: You wanna know what I think?
Marty Coslaw: No, we just called you out here to admire your pretty little face.
Uncle Red: You better watch your mouth, right now. You're on thin ice with me, son.
Marty Coslaw: No, we just called you out here to admire your pretty little face.
Uncle Red: You better watch your mouth, right now. You're on thin ice with me, son.
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[after Jane and Marty tell him about the werewolf] I'm a little too old to be playing "Hardy Boys meet Reverend Werewolf"!
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[narrating] I was nearly 15 years old, and my brother, Marty, was 11. Marty was the cross I had to bear. He wasn't so bad, actually. He was just constantly thrown in my face by my parents.
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[narrating] The last full moon of that Spring came a little more than a month before school let out for Summer vacation. Our town's long nightmare began that night.
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[narrating] This is Tarker's Mills, where I grew up. And this is how it looked that Spring, a town where people cared about each other as much as they cared about themselves.