#bud abbott and lou costello

[seanpultz]

Bud Abbott and Lou Costello in The Haunted Mansion with Judy Garland

Bud Abbott and Lou Costello approach the exterior of Gracey Mansion, which resembles the Joel Rathbone mansion, a Gothic Revival Pointed-style villa designed by Alexander Jackson (A.J.) Davis, in the upper Hudson River Valley area of Albany, New York.

Abbott: "Look at that, will ya, Costello? It's like we stumbled onto the set of a spooky movie!"

Costello: "It's not a movie, it's the Haunted Mansion, Abbott!"

Abbott: "Don't you get spooked, now. Remember, we're here to laugh, not scream."

Just as they are about to enter through the ornate gates, a pleasant voice is heard. 

Judy: "Gentlemen, isn't it a marvelously eerie evening for an adventure?"

Abbott: "Costello, Look! It's Judy Garland! What a delightful surprise! You're just in time for our ghostly rendezvous!"

Costello: "Judy! You're as welcome as a hot cup of cocoa on a cold night!"

Abbott: "And just as comforting, I'd imagine."

Judy: "Thank you, both of you. I've heard such spooky things about this place, I couldn't resist the invitation."

Entering the queuing area through a pair of ornate gates, we find ourselves in the mansion's nearly-neglected gardens and grounds. The queuing path leads guests past a knocked over birdbath, a black carriage hearse led by an invisible horse, and finally leads into the awning.

Abbott: "Well, Miss Garland, we're about to embark on a journey through the macabre, so hold on to your hats!"

Judy: "I'm ready for whatever spooks you two have in store. I've faced a few storms in my life, so I think I can handle a few ghosts."

Abbott: "Speaking of storms, what's the deal with this birdbath? It looks like it's seen better days."

Judy: "It's probably just the ghosts playing pranks, Abbott."

Costello: "Yeah, or maybe it's just the janitor's day off!"

Abbott: "Easy there, Costello." 

As they approach the black carriage hearse, Costello's eyes widen with astonishment.

Costello: "Abbott, get a load of this! What's up with the invisible horse? Did someone forget to cast the lead role?"

Abbott: "It's all part of the atmosphere, Costello. It's supposed to be eerie, remember?"

Costello: "Eerie? If that horse starts playing polo, I'm outta here!"

Judy: "Don't worry, Costello, the invisible horse is quite friendly. It's the unseen drivers you need to watch out for!"

Abbott: "You know, I've seen a lot of magic tricks in my time, but an invisible horse? That's a new one."

Costello: "Yeah, but why stop there? Maybe the ghosts are invisible too!"

Abbott: "Now, now, Costello, let's not get ahead of ourselves. One spooky sight at a time."

Judy: "Oh, I'm sure we're in for a delightful evening of surprises," she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

The three of them continue walking up the path, the sound of their laughter mingling with the distant howling wind, setting a curiously cheerful tone as they venture deeper into the Haunted Mansion's mysterious embrace.

After reaching the awning, Abbott and Costello and Judy are greeted at a gate with several busts of a family that once lived in the mansion that killed each other over inheriting a large fortune. 

Abbott: "Now, Costello, keep it together. These are just busts. They're not gonna start singing opera or anything, are they?"

Costello: "Busts?! You're telling me we're going to be stuck in a house with singing statues?!"

Abbott: "Only if you're lucky enough to be in a different attraction, Costello."

Judy: "They're quite the chatty family, aren't they?"

Costello: "Chatty? If they start singing, I'm gonna need a bigger hat!"

Abbott: "You're always looking for an excuse to go shopping, Costello."

Judy: "Let's just hope they don't decide to serenade us."

They approach a crypt. Embossed musical instruments are on the crypt that once touched a haunted tune mysteriously plays. 

Abbott: "What's that tune playing from the crypt, Costello? It sounds like something from your last audition!"

Costello: "Oh, it's just a little ditty called 'Run for Your Life'! It's the theme song for when I enter haunted places!"

Judy: "I believe it's actually the mansion's way of welcoming us. It's a bit macabre, but charming in its own peculiar way."

Costello: "Charming? If it starts singing 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow,' I might just join the band!"

Abbott: "Speaking of rainbows, maybe there are invisible leprechauns here with pots of gold!"

Costello: "And invisible snakes with pots of...something else."

Judy: "Gentlemen, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We're here to enjoy the thrills, not to make a fortune."

Costello: "But if I do find gold, I'm keeping it! I can finally buy that mansion in New Jersey!"

Abbott: "Costello, you couldn't even keep a goldfish in your bathtub. What makes you think you can handle a treasure?"

Judy: "Come on, you two, let's go see if we can find any friendly spirits inside,". 

They come across another crypt. Water and bubbles emerge from the crypt belonging to a Captain Culpepper Clyne.

As they arrive at the crypt of Captain Culpepper Clyne, the sight of the bubbling water sends Costello's imagination into overdrive.

Costello: "Abbott, look! The captain's still down there taking a bath! Maybe he forgot to turn off the faucet!"

Abbott: "It's not a bath, Costello. It's just an effect. The water's not even real."

Costello: "But it's wet, Abbott! And if it's not water, what is it? Ghost soup?"

Judy: "It's all part of the experience, Lou. It's like stepping into a storybook filled with whimsical and eerie delights."

Abbott: "Whimsical? That's one way to put it."

Costello: "I don't know about delights, but it's definitely got more bubbles than my bathtub at the hotel!"

Judy: "Let's not keep the captain waiting, shall we?"

They next approach a tomb. Words inexplicably appear upon on the tomb belonging to a poetess named Prudence Pock.

As they stand before Prudence Pock's tomb, the mysterious words begin to appear, sending chills down their spines.

Abbott: "Costello, do you think she's leaving us a message?"

Costello: "I hope it's not a critique of my poetry!"

Abbott: "Your poetry? The only thing you write is IOUs!"

Judy: "Maybe she's just trying to add some spooky ambiance to our tour,".

The words on the tomb suddenly glow, casting an eerie light on their faces.

Costello: "Whoa! Did she just say 'Boo'?"

Abbott: "It's the mansion's way of interacting with us, Costello. It's all part of the fun."

Judy: "Indeed. It seems the mansion has a poetic side," she reads aloud the glowing inscription, "Welcome to the Haunted Mansion, where the dead come out to socialize."

Costello: "Socialize?! I do well at parties, and these guests are a bit...different."

Abbott: "Don't worry, Costello. I'm sure we'll be the life of the party."

Costello: We're about to enter a mansion containing no life at all. 

Judy: "Let's just keep moving. I have a feeling our evening is about to get even more interesting."

With a mix of excitement and apprehension, the trio proceeds into the mansion, the heavy doors creaking shut behind them, sealing them in the shadowy embrace of the Haunted Mansion.

Abbott and Costello and Judy enter the elegant-but-spartan foyer as a distant pipe organ plays a dirge-like version of Grim Grinning Ghosts. Following this hallway, we enter a foyer, which features a fireplace to the left side. There is a picture hanging above the fireplace, which shows a handsome, young man (quite possibly the owner of the mansion). 

Abbott: "Look at this place, Costello. It's like we stepped into the set of 'The Haunting'!"

Costello: "Yeah, and I feel like I'm the one getting haunted!"

Judy: "Oh, don't be such a scaredy-cat, Lou. This is all just part of the charm."

Costello: "Charm? I thought we left that back in Kansas with Toto!"

Abbott: "Oh stop it, Costello! There's nothing to be afraid of! I'm not afraid." 

Costello: "Then why are you biting my nails?"

Judy: "Look, boys. This must be the master of the house." (Judy points to the painting over the fireplace)

The painting of the young man seems to follow their movements, his eyes eerily darting from side to side as they pass by.

Abbott: "It's like he's watching us, isn't it, Costello?"

Costello: "You mean, like he's alive?"

Abbott: "It's an optical illusion, Costello. Just part of the decor."

Judy: "Or maybe he's just eager to join the party."

Costello: "Party? Did she say party? Maybe there's punch and snacks!"

Abbott: "Keep your eyes peeled for floating hors d'oeuvres, Costello."

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "When hinges creak in doorless chambers. When strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls. Whenever candlelights flicker when the air is deathly still… That is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight."

Costello: "Abbott, did you hear that?!"

Abbott: "Of course I did, Costello. It's the Ghost Host setting the mood."

Judy: "Look, the painting's changing!"

Costello: "What?! Now we've got Picasso's ghost throwing a tantrum?"

Abbott: "No, it's the mansion's way of telling us we're not alone."

Costello: "Alright, I've had enough of this 'charm'. Let's get to the snack bar!"

Judy: "It's quite the transformation, isn't it?" 

The painting now reveals a grim, decaying visage, its eyes piercing through the gloom.

Abbott: "It's like he's aging before our very eyes."

Costello: "If he's looking for someone to join him, he's barking up the wrong tree! I'm not ready for a makeover like that!"

Abbott: "Costello, try to enjoy the experience."

Judy: "Perhaps the mansion has more stories to tell us,".

Costello: "Stories?! I'd rather read a comic book than be in one!"

Once the picture's transformation is complete, one of the walls opens up next to the picture, revealing an octagonal room.

They enter this octagonal room from the Foyer. Four paintings (A bearded gentleman holding a document, A pretty young lady holding a parasol, An old woman holding a rose and A man in a bowler hat) flanked by candle-wielding gargoyles, hang from the walls in this chamber. 

Abbott: "Look at these fine portraits, Costello. The artwork in here is top-notch—if not a bit...chilling."

Costello: "Oh boy, now we're getting the 'chilling' treatment! I didn't pay to be part of a fridge exhibit!"

Judy: "Aren't they intriguing? Each one seems to have a story to tell."

Costello: "I bet the guy with the parasol is the mansion's former umbrella tester."

Abbott: "You know, Costello, those are actually people who once lived here, and now they're part of the Haunted Mansion's charm."

Judy: "It's as if their spirits are captured in these frames."

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "Welcome, foolish mortals, to the Haunted Mansion. I am your host, your Ghost Host. Our tour begins here in this gallery. Here, where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state. Kindly step all the way in please, and make room for everyone. There’s no turning back now."

Costello: "Abbott, I don't like this place! I'm outta here! (Costello runs for the door they entered but it slams shut) Did you see that door slam?!"

Abbott: "Calm down, Costello. It's all part of the act. Look, the walls are moving!"

The room begins to stretch upwards

Judy: "Why, it's as if the room is stretching!"

Costello: "Great! This place has more stretch marks than a yoga instructor!"

As the room continues to streatch, the paintings on the walls elongating with it to reveal a comically gruesome end for each subject:

The bearded gentleman holding a document is revealed to be wearing only his undergarments from the waist down and standing atop a lit keg of dynamite.

The pretty young lady holding a parasol is revealed to be balancing on a fraying tightrope above the gaping jaws of an alligator.

The old woman holding a rose is revealed to be sitting atop a tall gravestone, at the bottom of which is a stone bust of her husband George with a hatchet embedded in his head.

The man in a bowler hat is revealed to be sitting on the shoulders of another man who sits on the shoulders of a third man who is waist deep in quicksand. 

Costello: "Wait, what's happening to these people?!"

Abbott: "It's called 'The Stretching Room'. It's just a bit of fun to set the tone for the ride."

Costello: "But they're all in trouble! We gotta save them!"

Judy: "It's okay, Lou. They're just paintings, remember?"

Costello: "What did the lady do to deserve this? Did she steal the parasol?"

Abbott: "And look at the bearded man, he's got more to worry about than his wardrobe malfunction."

Costello: "And the one with the hat... it's like a game of 'pass the quicksand'!"

Judy: "And the poor woman with the rose, it seems George had an unfortunate accident."

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it your imagination — hmm? And consider this dismaying observation, This chamber has no windows and no doors… which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out!"

The Ghost Host laughs as Abbott and Costello and Judy are looking upward towards the ceiling. Costello is shaking like a leaf. 

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "Of course, there's always my way."

The lights go out and lightning flashes above. The ceiling vanishes and gives a view of the mansion's cupola, where the skeletal corpse of the Ghost Host sways from a noose tied to the rafters. Judy unleashes a blood curdling scream at this sight. After a few seconds, the room becomes pitch black and a dreadful scream is heard (Judy hides her face into Abbott's shoulder), followed by the sound of bones shattering. Just as suddenly as it had begun, the horror ended, and the lights flickered back on. They blinked in the sudden brightness, their eyes adjusting to find that the skeletal corpse was gone, and in its place, a wall had slid open, revealing a hidden passage. 

Judy: (trembling in fear) "Oh, Abbott! That was a skeleton in the room."

Costello: "Make that two skeletons."

Abbott: "Two skeletons?"

Costello: "Yeah, I just jumped out of my skin!"

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "Oh, I didn’t mean to frighten you prematurely. The real chills come later. Now, as they say, ‘look alive,’ and we’ll continue our little tour. And let’s all stay together, please."

Judy still shaking from what she just saw looks and sees the hidden passageway that has just been opened. 

Judy: "Look! This must be the way out." 

Abbott: "The only way out is to move forward."  

Costello: "Pardon me, Abbott. I need to see somebody outside."

Abbott: "Who?"

Costello: "Me."

Abbott: "Oh, come on!" (Pulls Costello to follow him.)

Judy clinging to Abbott as the trio continues onward down a long hallway. Costello is still frightened. 

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "And now, a carriage approaches to carry you into the boundless realm of the supernatural. Once on board, remain safely seated with your hands, arms, feet, and legs inside. And watch your children, please."

Abbott: "Costello, get in the Doom Buggy. It's time for the main attraction."

Costello: "Dune Buggy? We're going to drive in the sand?"

Abbott: "No, Costello, not Dune 'Doom'."

Costello: "So we're not going to the beach?"

Abbott: "No, Costello. It's a ride through the mansion."

Costello: "And this is called a Doom Buggy?"

Abbott: "Yes!"

Costello: "This mansion must have a lot of sand."

Abbott: "Listen, Costello. This isn't Dune like a sand dune, it's doom like in 'certain doom.' 

Costello: "So 'certain sand'."  

Abbott: "Look, Costello. When I say Doom Buggy, I don't mean Dune Buggy like a Dune Buggy like you drive on a sand dune, I mean Doom Buggy as in doom like in certain doom. And the name of this vehicle is called a Doom Buggy.  

Costello: "Oh, When you say Doom Buggy, You don't mean Dune Buggy like a Dune Buggy like you drive on a sand dune, You mean Doom Buggy as in doom like in certain doom. And the name of this vehicle is called a Doom Buggy."  

Abbott: "Now, you've got it." 

Costello: "Now, I've got it. I don't even know what I'm talking about!"

Abbott: "Oh, Just get on board. Go all the way in." (Turns to Judy) Here, Miss Garland let me help you in. (She sits next to Costello as Abbott is the last to board the vehicle.)

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "Do not pull down on the safety bar, please. I will lower it for you. And heed this warning: the spirits will materialize only if you remain quietly seated at all times."

The safety bar is lowered, locking Costello, Judy and Abbott in their respective Doom Buggy.

Their Doom Buggy enters a rather steep stairwell and pass under a landing where a floating candelabra floats in the darkness. After they pass under, they enter a hallway. To the left are two windows with white sheer drapes; lightning crashes and thunders outside. To the right are four paintings: a woman in a black sheer dress reclining on a daybed, a sloop on choppy waters, a knight on a rearing horse, and a woman in a Greek temple. With each flash of lightning, the paintings become:  an anthropomorphic tiger, a ghost ship in a tropical storm, a skeleton knight on a skeleton horse, and Medusa in Greek Ruins. 

Abbott: "Look at that, Costello! The paintings are changing with the lightning!"

Costello: "What do you mean, changing?!"

Judy: "Oh my, it's like they're alive!"

Abbott: "It's just another one of the mansion's clever tricks."

Costello: "Clever tricks? The only thing I wanna see 'clever' is the exit sign!"

Judy: "Don't worry, Lou. It's all part of the experience."

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "Oh yes, and no flash pictures, please. We spirits are frightfully sensitive to bright lights."

Leaving the hallway, we enter into a rectangular library, which is filled from floor-to-ceiling by shelves lined with hundreds of books. Phantom hands pull books from the shelves. An empty chair rocks gently back and forth, and a ladder slides to and fro as an unseen force searches for a good read. Among the shelves, marble busts glare at Costello, Judy and Abbott as we move along in the gloom.

The Ghost Host (offscreen): “Our library is well stocked with priceless first editions, only ghost stories, of course, and marble busts of the greatest ghost writers the literary world has ever known." 

Abbott: "Boy, look at all those books." 

Judy: "I could spend a night reading the lot of them."

Costello: "I think those marble busts are giving me the stink eye!"

Abbott: "Oh, Costello. They're only marble. Marble can't move."

Judy: "I think they're just part of the ambiance, Lou."

Costello: "Well, if they start throwing dust jackets, I'm outta here!"

Abbott: "Costello, keep your cool."

Leaving the library, we enter the Music Room. In the room, our heroes find an invisible ghost playing a Rachmaninoff-style arrangement of Grim Grinning Ghosts on the piano. The ghost's shadow can be seen cast upon the floor, while a storm brews outside.

Costello: "Abbott, why's the piano playing without anyone at it?"

Abbott: "It's haunted, Costello."

Costello: "What, did Beethoven's ghost forget his sheet music?"

Judy: "It's quite eerie, isn't it?"

Costello: "Eerie? I'd say it's downright spooky!"

Abbott: "Remember, Costello, it's all in good fun."

Judy: "But the shadow, it's like someone's really playing!"

Costello: "Oh no, not the shadow! Now I'm gonna have nightmares about a piano bench with teeth!"

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "They have all retired here, to the Haunted Mansion. Actually, we have 999 happy haunts here. But there’s room for 1,000. Any volunteers?"

Costello: "Abbott, I don't wanna be the 1,000th ghost! Let's get outta here!"

Abbott: "Costello, calm down. It's just part of the show."

Judy: "Look, boys! Look at that stairwell"

Next, we enter the main stairwell of the Mansion. Here in this M.C. Escher-like void the stairs go right-side up, upside-down, sideways, slantways, longways, back ways, front ways, square ways, and any other ways that you can think of. It is on these steps we see the ectoplasmic footprints of the Mansion's ghostly residents.

Abbott: "The stairs are playing tricks on your eyes."

Costello: "Tricks? I'm telling ya, my eyes are playing tricks on me because they don't wanna look at those stairs!"

Judy: "It's quite fascinating, isn't it? Like a never-ending dance of shadows."

The Doom Buggy ascends the staircase, the gravity-defying steps moving beneath them as they climb to the next floor. Costello's eyes widen as the staircase twists and turns, seemingly leading nowhere.

Costello: "Abbott, why are we going upstairs in a house with no roof?"

Abbott: "It's all part of the magic, Costello. The Haunted Mansion has more twists than a pretzel."

Judy: "And speaking of magic, look at those ghostly footprints!"

Costello: "Yeah, and I bet the ghost who made those was running from something scary!"

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "Well, if you should decide to join us, final arrangements may be made at the end of the tour. A charming ‘ghostess’ will be on hand to take your application."

In the blackness, glowing, blinking eyes transform into the pattern on the wallpaper. This spooks Costello.

Costello: "Abbott, Do you get the feeling we're being watched?"

Abbott: "Costello, it's just an optical illusion. The wallpaper's playing with the light."

Costello: "Optical illusion? I'm telling ya, I've got enough optical delusions going on without wallpaper joining the party!"

Judy: "Don't worry, Lou. It's all in the spirit of the mansion's charm."

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "We find it delightfully unlivable here in this ghostly retreat. Every room has wall-to-wall creeps, and hot and cold running chills."

They pass a second floor passageway that seems to go on forever, lined with doors. A lone candelabra floats in midair halfway down it. Flanking the hallway entrance are a subtly-moving Suit of Armour and an armchair designed to have a "face."

Abbott: "Look at that, Costello. A never-ending hallway with a floating candelabrum. How delightfully chilling."

Costello: "Floating candles? This place is weirder than a duck in a tuxedo!"

Judy: "And the suit of armor, it looks like it's moving!"

Costello: "Oh boy, now we're in for it. It's the ghost of Sir Lancelot's dry cleaner."

Abbott: "And the chair, it's got a face!"

Costello: "I don't wanna sit there! It'll tell me I've got bad posture!"

The Ghost Host (offscreen): “Shhh, listen!”

A keening sounding like a banshee is heard.

Costello: (Stammering) Abbott, Was that you?

Abbott: "No, Costello, that wasn't me.

Judy: "It sounds like a banshee." 

They ride past an alcove-like conservatory, the space choked with decaying and overgrown plants and vegetation. Outside the huge glass walls is a misty landscape, with only the gnarled limbs of leafless trees visible in the gloom. A raven perches on top of a stand with a withered funeral wreath, and in the center of the chamber is a coffin whose occupant is trying to get out - skeletal hands attempt to push the lid open saying "Let me out! Let me outta here!", which based on the nails sticking through the wood was meant to stay sealed.

Abbott: "It's like nature decided to throw a party and forgot to invite anyone but the mushrooms."

Costello: "I don't like that bird, Abbott. It's looking at me like I owe it money."

Judy: "And what's with that poor soul in the coffin?"

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "All our ghosts have been dying to meet you. This one can hardly contain himself. Unfortunately, they all seem to have trouble getting through."

Their Doom Buggy is then carried backward down an ominous corridor, a series of doors on either side of the car. Growls, screams, maniacal laughter and pleading voices emanate from behind them, as if something is trying to get out. Doors bend, as if they are breathing, knockers clack and rattle, and the walls are adorned with some "family portraits" of corpses.

Costello: "What's with all these doors, Abbott? They're breathing!"

Abbott: "It's just the mansion's way of saying 'hello,' Costello."

Costello: "Tell 'em Goodbye!"

Abbott: "Now, now, Costello. No need to be rude to our hosts."

Judy: "And those faces in the portraits!"

At the end of the hall lies a grandfather clock, with its arms spinning wildly backwards and the clock striking 13. A shadow of a clawed hand passes over the face of the clock. 

We next enter the shadowy Séance Circle. The buggies travel in a circle facing a large table and high-backed chair in the center of the room (a raven perches on the back of the chair). Above this table floats a crystal ball containing the spirit of Madame Leota, chanting incantations that summon the spirits to appear.

Madam Leota: "Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat, call in the spirits, wherever they’re at!

Abbott: "Look, Costello, a séance. Maybe we'll get to say hello to some of the ghosts."

Costello: "I don't wanna say hello to no ghosts. I just wanna say goodbye to this place!"

Judy: "Madame Leota is quite the hostess, isn't she?"

Madame Leota: Rap on a table — it’s time to respond. Send us a message from somewhere beyond…Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween, awaken the spirits with your tambourine! Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pond, let there be music from regions beyond! Wizards and witches, wherever you dwell, give us a hint, by ringing a bell!"

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "The happy haunts have received your sympathetic vibrations and are beginning to materialize. They’re assembling for a swinging wake, and they’ll be expecting me… I’ll see you all a little later."

Next, we travel along a balcony overlooking the hall. A major party is underway as a multitude of transparent spirits engage in all sorts of revelry. A long dining table covered with decayed floral arrangements and dusty silverware plays host to a birthday feast, and whenever the orange-haired birthday ghost blows out the candles on a birthday cake at the head of the table, the other ghosts seated there vanish, only to reappear when the candles light again; nearby, an old woman disappears and reappears in a rocking chair. Several haunts drift into the hall from a hearse parked in a doorway, while cloaked wraith-like phantoms fly in through the broken windows from a stormy night outside. While a number of ghosts - including the notorious Pickwick - gadabout on the chandeliers above the room, a pair of duelists emerge from their respective paintings on the far wall and take shots at each other, forever reenacting their age-old feud. The open floor whirls with waltzing couples as a ghastly organist plays Grim Grinning Ghosts on a pipe organ, where tiny spirits emerge from the pipes.

Costello: "Look at them all, Abbott! They're throwing a shindig!"

Abbott: "Indeed, Costello. It seems we've crashed their eternal party."

Judy: "It's like a masquerade ball, but everyone forgot to take off their sheets!"

Costello: "I don't know about you two, but I'd rather be watching this from the comfort of a movie theater!"

Abbott: "Just keep your wits about you, Costello. And try not to spill your popcorn on any of the ghosts."

Judy: "Abbott, don't you think we should join the dance?"

Abbott: "I don't know the first step to a spectral waltz, Miss Garland."

Costello: "Yeah, and I don't wanna trip over any invisible dance partners!"

Leaving the Grand Hall, we ride through a dark, dusty and cluttered attic, where the sound of a beating heart and a sinister piano rendition of "The Wedding March" can be heard. Among the brick-a-brac are several pieces of wedding paraphernalia and decor, and five different marriage paintings, depicting the same bride but with a different groom in each. As guests watch, the heads of each of the grooms disappear, only to reappear moments later. 

Costello: "Abbott, did you see that? The grooms' heads are disappearing!"

Abbott: "It's just an illusion, Costello."

Judy: "It's quite clever, really. The way they've designed it to look like a real attic, but with a spooky twist."

Costello: "Clever? I call it creepy! And what's with the bride in all those pictures?"

Abbott: "Ah, it seems she had a bit of a... tumultuous love life."

Judy: "Maybe she was just looking for the perfect partner."

Costello: "Well, I hope she doesn't think I'm next!"

Judy: (laughing) "Come now, Lou. It's all in good fun."

After passing the source of the music, a broken-down piano with an invisible pianist (only a shadow of a man cast on the wall and keys), we come face-to-face with the ghost of the bride, Constance Hatchaway. 

Constance Hatchaway: “In sickness and in… wealth. You may now kiss the bride. We’ll live happily ever after. Till death do us part. Here comes the bride. As long as we both shall live. For better or for… worse. I do. I did.” 

She laughs while, periodically, a spectral hatchet appears in her hands. 

Costello: HEEEY, ABBOOOOTTT!!!!

Abbott: "What's the matter, Costello?"

Costello: "The bride's got more heads than a hydrant!"

Abbott: "It's part of the story, Costello. She's just having a little fun with her grooms."

Costello: By chopping off their heads?! 

Judy: "It's quite the cautionary tale about marriage, wouldn't you say?"

Costello: "I've seen more romance in a meat locker!"

Abbott: "And let's not forget our manners. We're guests here, after all."

Following leaving the Attic window, their Doombuggy moves down the balcony outside the house and down a flight of stairs backwards. A raven caws at guests from a tree branch. The shapes of rising spirits can be seen everywhere. 

Abbott: "Well, Costello, we're about to take a little detour through the mansion's backyard."

Costello: "Backyard? You mean we're not done with this place yet?"

Judy: "It's quite the sight, isn't it? So serene and peaceful."

Costello: "Look at 'em go, Abbott! They've got more life in 'em than my Uncle Artie Steavens after a cup of coffee!"

Abbott: "It's all part of the show, Costello. They're just happy to have some company."

Judy: "And what a lovely song they've chosen to serenade us with."

Costello: "Yeah, it's like we're in the middle of a ghostly flash mob!"

Upon reaching the ground, the graveyard Caretaker can be seen with his dog, the two of them utterly petrified by the sight before them. 

Costello: (to the Caretaker) "Hey, can you tell us the way out?"

The Caretaker doesn't answer.

Abbott: "I don't think he wants to talk Costello."

Judy: "Looks, like we'll have to find the way out ourselves." 

Music is all around, while playful spooks pop-up from behind their tombstones. To the left, a group of five phantoms play a flute, a horn, a bagpipe, a harp, and pound on a tombstone to create an unearthly vibe. A King and Queen balance on a see-saw while a Duchess swings from a tree branch while she drinks a cup of tea. In the very back a skeletal wolf is seen howling at the moon. 

Costello: (whispering to Abbott) "What's with the band out here? They're playing like they're auditioning for the Haunted Philharmonic!"

Abbott: (smiling) "They're just setting the mood, Costello. The ghosts like to keep things lively."

On the other side of the path, five Singing Busts come into view, bearing very vividly lit, expressive faces as they sing: 

♪ When the crypt doors creak ♪

♪ And the tombstones quake ♪

♪ Spooks come out for a singing wake ♪

♪ Happy haunts materialize ♪

♪ And begin to vocalize ♪

♪ Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize ♪

♪ Now don't close your eyes ♪

♪ And don't try to hide ♪

♪ Or a silly spook may sit by your side ♪ 

♪ Shrouded in a daft disguise ♪

♪ They pretend to terrorize ♪

♪ Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize ♪

♪ As the moon climbs high o'er dead oak tree ♪

♪ Spooks arrive for the midnight spree ♪

♪ Creepy creeps with eerie eyes ♪

♪ Start to shriek and harmonize ♪

♪ Grim grinning ghosts come out socialize ♪

♪ When you hear the knell of a requiem bell ♪

♪ Weird glows gleam where spirits dwell ♪

♪ Restles bones etherealize ♪

♪ Rise as spooks of every size ♪

Costello: "Abbott, do we have to listen to this all night? They're giving me the heebie-jeebies!"

Abbott: "They're just the welcoming committee, Costello. Try to enjoy the music."

Judy: "They're not so bad. They've got quite the harmony, wouldn't you say?"

Costello: "Harmony? They sound like a barbershop quartet from the afterlife!"

Abbott: "Keep your voice down, Costello. We don't want to interrupt their performance."

Judy: "But they're so cheerful. It's hard not to smile."

Costello: "I'm smiling, but it's because I'm trying not to scream!"

Other ghosts materialize, gathering around a hearse and drinking tea. A Mummy sits in his sarcophagus, trying to make contact with an elderly spirit who is just too deaf to understand him. Two "Phantoms of the Opera" blast their ghostly voices into the night. A Beheaded Knight, his Executioner, and his Prisoner all sing as a trio, while the poor ghost behind them tombs himself up. Our hero's Doom buggy enters the Mausoleum at the end of the Graveyard sequence where they are immediately "greeted" by the Raven who caws at guests while perching on the door to the Mausoleum.

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "Ah, there you are! And just in time… there’s a little matter I forgot to mention. Beware of Hitchhiking Ghosts!"

They pass by three hitchhiking spirits; a Traveler, a Skeleton and a Prisoner.

The Doom Buggy passes by a wall of mirrors showing that the Hitchhikers are sitting in the vehicles along with Costello, Judy and Abbott.

Abbott: "Well, Costello, it seems we've picked up some uninvited guests."

Costello: "What? Where?!"

Abbott: "In the mirror, look. The Hitchhiking Ghosts are trying to catch a ride with us!"

Judy: "Oh, they seem quite friendly, really."

Costello: (nervously) "Friendly? They look like they're trying to escape from the 'It's a Small World' line!"

Abbott: "Don't worry, they're just part of the fun here. They won't stay for long."

Judy: "I think they're just trying to be part of the adventure."

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "They have selected you to fill our quota, and they’ll haunt you until you return!" 

A very small being only around the size of a doll. She wears a white satin dress with a long, non-transparent hood, often mistaken for a veil, of the same material. She has visible long blue hair and glowing pale blue skin. stands atop the ledge of the crypt holding a bouquet of dead flowers. She is Little Leota, the Ghostess.

Little Leota: “Hurry back. Hurry back. Be sure to bring your death certificate, if you decide to join us. Make final arrangements now! We've been dying… to have you…".

The Ghost Host (offscreen): "Now I will raise the safety bar, and a ghost will follow you home!" 

The safety bar is risen and they disembarks the Doom Buggy. As they head for the exit, we hear the ghosts sing this following passage:

♪ If you would like to join our jamboree ♪ 

♪ There's a simple rule that's compulsory ♪ 

♪ Mortals pay a token fee ♪ 

♪ Rest in peace, the haunting's free ♪ 

♪ So hurry back, we would like your company ♪ 

Costello: "Abbott, did you hear that? They're gonna follow us home!"

Abbott: "It's just part of the act, Costello. Relax."

Judy: "Oh, it's all in good fun. Besides, I think they're just eager to keep the party going."

Costello: "Yeah, I'd love to throw a party like this... in broad daylight, with all the lights on!"

The trio exits the Mansion, slightly shaken but mostly amused by their spooky journey. As they step into the moonlit night, the sound of the ghostly choir fades away, replaced by the echoes of their own laughter.

[gameraboy2]

Abbott and Costello Go to Mars (1953)

[citizenscreen]

Bud Abbott and Robert Mitchum pulling on the ears of Lou Costello's rabbit costume during an Easter party at Costello's home in March 1946.

[atomic-raunch]

Friday night with the Abbotts and the Costellos. Bud and Lou with their wives Anne and Betty

[acmeoop]

One Sheet “Hold That Ghost” (1941)

[u-friend-or-ufo]

[weirdlookindog]

Bud Abbott and Lou Costello Meet the Killer, Boris Karloff (1949)

[chernobog13]

TIME FOR MORE CAKE!

Bud Abbott, Glenn Strange, and Lou Costello celebrating Lou's birthday on the set of Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948).

[fatsamsgrandslamspeakeasy]

The ultimate in Abbott and Costello pure "insanity" genius: Who's On First?

"I'll break your arm if you say who's on first"....Lou

A day without laughter is a day wasted....

[seanpultz]

As a film buff, I have such an imagination and somewhere in an alternate timeline or a parallel universe there is a story that could've been a great idea for a movie or you imagined a cast of actors who would look great together on screen. For years, I always imagined what it would be like if Bud Abbott and Lou Costello teaming with Judy Garland would look like. It's such a shame that it never came to fruition. But then again they were under contract to different studios. Judy was under contract to MGM and Abbott and Costello were with Universal Pictures. However MGM signed a three-film contract with Bud and Lou to take advantage of a clause in their Universal contract that allowed them to do one film a year for another company. In reality, Bud and Lou did Rio Rita, Lost in a Harem and Abbott and Costello in Hollywood for MGM. But thanks with a little AI and a little bit of tweaking of my own, I did manage to scribble out a possible story that I thought would be kind of beneficial for both Judy Garland and Bud and Lou. After many different attempts at a plot that would incorporate both Judy and Bud and Lou and taking into consideration the types of film Bud and Lou had done in their careers I thought the one type of film Bud and Lou never got the opportunity to tackle is a medieval set story. So I manage to concoct a story that would've been set in the medieval times. Now I know some of the aspects of the story I'm about to share with you may seem cliché by modern audiences but I'm writing this from the perspective of what 1940's audiences would've found unique at the time.

A Jester's Serenade

Bud Abbott as Bartholomew "Bart" Montague 

Lou Costello as Lancelot "Lance" Finnegan 

Judy Garland as Melody

Basil Rathbone as King Malachi Blackthorn

Dick Foran as Garret

and

Arthur Treacher as Goodheart

Once upon a time, in the kingdom called Veridion, there live two jesters. Bart Montague, a lanky fellow with a mischievous glint in his eye, leaned against the dusty wooden frame of the castle gate, watching the bustle of the town square below. The annual festival of Veridion was in full swing, and the air was thick with the sweet aroma of roasting meats and the laughter of townsfolk. His partner in jest, Lance Finnegan, a shorter, rounder man with a wild mop of hair, approached with a spring in his step that was unusual for someone so often the butt of their own jokes.

"Bart, I've had it with this foolishness," Lance announced, a rare seriousness etched on his jolly face. "I want more from life than making fools laugh at my expense. I want to be a knight!"

Bart couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's earnestness. "A knight, you say?" he responded, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you think you've got what it takes, Lance? You can barely keep your pants from falling down during our act."

Lance's cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and determination. "Look at me, I'm quick on my feet, and I've got a sharp mind. Plus, I've been secretly training with Sir Percival's squire when he thinks no one's watching!"

Bart's laughter subsided into a warm smile. He knew Lance's heart was in the right place, but the idea of his clumsy friend in shining armor was almost too much to handle. "Alright, Lance," he said, slapping him on the back. "If it's a knight you wish to be, then it's a knight you shall become—after we put on the show of our lives tonight!"

The two jesters made their way through the colorful throngs of the festival, their capes fluttering behind them. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets as they headed towards the grand stage where their fate, and perhaps the fate of the kingdom, was about to take an unexpected turn.

As they approached the stage, a commotion caught their attention. Goodheart, an old beggar known for his kindness and gentle spirit, was being harassed by a pair of the King's soldiers. The soldiers, burly men with scornful grins, jeered and poked at him, sending his meager belongings scattering across the ground. Lance's protective instincts flared, and he took a step forward, but Bart held him back with a firm grip.

"Hold on, Lance," he whispered. "Let's not cause a scene before our performance."

Just then, Garret, the Captain of the Guards, emerged from the castle, his expression darkening as he took in the scene. He was a man of honor, and the sight of his men bullying a defenseless old man was not a sight he tolerated. He strode over, his boots echoing through the square.

"What's the meaning of this?" he barked at the soldiers. They snapped to attention, their smiles vanishing.

Goodheart looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. "They took my meager coins, sir," he said, his voice trembling.

Garret's gaze shifted to the soldiers, his voice icy. "Collect yourselves and leave this man in peace. And remember," he added, his voice carrying a hint of menace, "a knight's strength is not in his armor, but in his compassion."

The soldiers muttered apologies and slunk away, leaving Goodheart to gather his things. Garret offered the old man a hand, which he gratefully took, and helped him to his feet.

"Thank you, kind sir," Goodheart said, his eyes brimming with gratitude.

Garret nodded, his gaze lingering on Lance for a moment before he turned to address the crowd. "Let this be a lesson to us all," he called out. "Bullies may hide behind their power, but true strength lies in the heart!"

The townsfolk murmured in agreement, and the square fell silent, the only sound the distant strains of music from the festival. Lance felt a strange stirring within him, as if the captain's words had struck a chord that resonated deep within his soul. Perhaps, he thought, there was more to knighthood than he had ever imagined.

King Malachi Blackthorn, once a revered sorcerer, now ruled the kingdom of Veridion with an iron fist, his sharp eyes and severe demeanor casting a shadow over the usually festive air. Despite his disdain for the common folk's revelries, he understood the value of allowing such occasions to take place. It was a strategic move, a way to maintain a semblance of peace while he pursued his own dark ambitions from the confines of his castle. His presence was a stark contrast to the jovial spirit of the festival, yet the people of Veridion knew better than to let his tyrannical rule dampen their spirits. They danced and sang with a fierce defiance, whispering prayers for a hero to rise and free them from his oppressive reign. Little did they know, that hero might just be hidden among the jesters' capes and the jovial laughter of the very festival that served as a beacon of hope amidst the gloom.

The stage lights dimmed, and the townspeople took their seats, eager for the evening's entertainment. The festival's grand finale was about to begin, and Bart and Lance were ready to dazzle the crowd with their well-rehearsed antics. They took their places under the elaborate backdrop. The crowd roared with laughter as Lance attempted to recount the biblical tale of Jonah and the Whale , only to be continuously cut off by Bart's questions. Their chemistry was undeniable, the timing of their jokes impeccable, and the townsfolk were in stitches. The audience erupted into thunderous applause. The two friends took their bows, grinning from ear to ear, basking in the warm glow of approval that washed over them. Yet, as the cheers died down and the curtains closed, Lance couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to life than the fleeting adoration of a jest.

As the applause faded, a new sound began to rise from the festival's periphery—a hauntingly beautiful melody that seemed to weave its way through the very fabric of the night. The crowd's chatter hushed as the ethereal notes grew louder, and all eyes turned to the source: a young woman with a voice that seemed to hold the power of a thousand angels. Melody, a name that suited her as perfectly as the golden locks that fell around her shoulders, stood on a makeshift stage at the edge of the square, her eyes closed as she poured her soul into the song. Her voice, a poignant blend of innocence and wisdom, captivated everyone present, including Bart and Lance, who watched from the shadows of the grand stage's wings. They had never heard anything quite so mesmerizing, and for a moment, even their lifelong friendship was forgotten as they were both drawn to her like moths to a flame. It was a moment of pure magic, one that hinted at destinies intertwining and the possibility of dreams coming true in the most unexpected of ways.

As the final note of Melody's song lingered in the air, the crowd remained eerily silent, until King Blackthorn's cold laughter rang out from his throne-like chair at the royal viewing box. "What sorcery is this?" he sneered, his eyes narrowing on the trembling girl. "This is an outrage, using black magic to manipulate my subjects!"

The soldiers and townspeople, fueled by the king's accusation, turned on Melody with a fervor that matched their earlier mirth. They jeered and booed, hurling eggs and rotten vegetables at the trembling girl. Her eyes, once filled with passionate light, now brimmed with tears of humiliation and pain. Without a second thought, She fled off the stage in tears.

Bart and Lance exchanged a horrified look, the joy of their performance now a distant memory. They couldn't stand idly by while a fellow performer, especially one so gifted and pure, was vilified for her art. With quickened steps, they followed her. "Melody, wait!" Lance called out.

Melody stumbled into the dimly lit tent, her sobs echoing off the canvas walls. The smell of incense and candle wax filled the air, hinting at the various performers who had found refuge within its folds. She collapsed onto a wooden chair, her shoulders heaving with the weight of the world's cruelty. The flap of the tent opened, and in slipped Bart and Lance, their faces etched with concern. "Melody, are you okay?" Bart whispered, as they approached her cautiously.

Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, looked up to meet theirs.

At first, Melody shrank away, expecting more taunts and ridicule. But the genuine concern in Lance's eyes melted the icy grip of fear around her heart. "Please," she choked out, "don't mock me too."

"Mock you?" Lance gaped, his own eyes wide with shock. "We're jesters, not monsters." He offered her a handkerchief, which she took with a trembling hand. "You've got a voice that could charm the stars from the sky," he said gently. "Don't let that sour old man spoil it for you."

Lance stepped closer, his eyes soft with empathy. "Don't cry, Melody," he said, reaching into his pocket. "Here, take this." He pulled out a handkerchief, but in his haste, he didn't realize it was attached to a hidden string of cloth. As he handed it to her, the fabric stretched on and on. Melody's eyes widened, and through her tears, she managed a small, surprised smile. The tension in the tent broke as she watched in amazement as the handkerchief grew longer and longer, until it was clear that it would never end. The jesters' classic gag had inadvertently turned the tide of her sorrow into something lighter. "Whoops," Lance exclaimed, his cheeks reddening as he tried to reel in the runaway fabric. "I guess I'm not just a knight in training," he quipped, "but a magician of sorts too!"

Melody's smile grew, the tears slowing to a halt. "Thank you," she whispered, taking the seemingly endless handkerchief. It was a simple act of kindness, but it was enough to remind her of the joy she found in music, and the friends she had made in the most unlikely of places.

"Your voice, Melody, it's not just music," Bart said, his voice filled with awe. "It's a gift from the heavens above. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Her smile grew, and with newfound courage, she began to sing again, her voice soaring through the tent. The words of the song spoke of dreams and destiny, of hearts that dare to soar despite the cages they are placed in. The melody was a balm to their spirits, and as she sang, the anger and pain in their hearts began to dissipate. The tent, once a place of solace, now resonated with hope and camaraderie. The two jesters listened, transfixed, as the girl's words wove a tapestry of aspirations and the pursuit of happiness.

Lance felt a lump form in his throat, and he glanced over to see that Bart's eyes were glistening with unshed tears. They had spent their lives bringing laughter to others, but in that moment, they were the ones being healed by the power of music. Melody's song was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, and it was clear to both of them that she was more than just a simple street performer—she was a beacon of hope in a world that desperately needed it. And as the final notes of her ballad faded into the night, the three of them knew that their lives had been irrevocably changed. They had found a new purpose, a quest that went beyond the confines of jests and giggles. They would stand together, united by their shared dreams, and face whatever the future held for them in the kingdom of Veridion.

The power of Melody's song had seeped into Lance's very core, fanning the embers of his dream into a roaring flame. He looked at his friends, their faces aglow with the magic of her music, and knew that he could not let fear or doubt hold him back any longer. "Bart," he said, his voice resolute, "you were right earlier. It's time for us to do more than just entertain. I'm going to become a knight, and with your help, I know I can make a difference in this kingdom."

Bart's smile grew as he nodded in support. "I'll be right there with you, Lance," he said, slapping his friend on the back. "We'll turn your fool's dream into a knight's quest!"

Goodheart, the old beggar they had encountered earlier, peeked into the tent. His eyes widened at the sight of the two jesters, now standing tall with newfound resolve. He had overheard their conversation and knew that he had something valuable to contribute. "Excuse me, young sirs," he coughed politely, his voice raspy from a lifetime of hardship. "If it's knighthood you seek, I may have a word or two of advice for you." His eyes twinkled with the wisdom of ages, hinting at secrets untold.

Goodheart, with a knowing smile, stepped into the tent, his eyes twinkling with the wisdom of the ages. He had once been a squire to a great knight, and his tales of valor and honor had captured the hearts of the town's children for years. Now, he saw in Lance and Bart the same spark that had once burned within him. "Let us begin your training," he declared. Over the next several weeks, the trio met in secret, hidden from the watchful eyes of the castle. The square that had once rung with laughter now echoed with the clang of swords and the clatter of hooves as the two jesters stumbled through their lessons. Lance, ever eager, threw himself into his training with a passion that surprised even himself, while Bart's mischievous streak led to more than a few comical mishaps. Melody watched from the sidelines, her melodious laughter pealing out as Lance tumbled from his horse or Bart's sword swipes went wildly off-target. Despite their initial struggles, Goodheart's patience and guidance began to show results. The men grew stronger, more disciplined, and their camaraderie deepened as they shared in the triumphs and tribulations of their newfound pursuit. Meanwhile, Melody's music continued to be their beacon, inspiring them to reach for greatness beyond the confines of their jester's attire.

Months passed, and under Goodheart's tutelage, Lance and Bart transformed from jesters to skilled warriors. Their friendship with Melody had blossomed into a bond of protection and camaraderie, and Lance, now more than ever, felt the weight of his newfound knightly ambition. His dream was no longer just a whimsical notion; it was a fiery determination that burned in his core. As they strolled through the quiet streets of Veridion one evening, Lance swaggered with newfound confidence, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of trouble.

"Melody," he announced, with the pomp of a royal decree, "henceforth, let it be known that any who wish to harm thee shall have to answer to Sir Lancelot Finnegan!" He playfully swung his wooden practice sword at an invisible foe, causing a few passersby to giggle.

Bart rolled his eyes but couldn't help the proud smile that tugged at his lips. "And what makes you think you can protect her, Sir Lancelot?" he teased.

Melody looked at Lance with a mix of amusement and affection. "Your valor is touching, Sir Lancelot," she said, her voice as sweet as the melodies she sang. "But I fear I am quite capable of handling myself."

Lance's face fell, but only for a moment. "Of course, Lady Melody," he replied with a dramatic bow. "But should you ever need it, my sword and shield are yours to command."

As the moon cast a silvery glow over the quiet streets, Captain Garret's imposing figure emerged from the shadows. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and for a heart-stopping moment, Bart and Lance prepared to defend Melody with their makeshift weapons. But to their surprise, Garret raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Fear not," he said, his voice steady. "I am not here to fight, but to offer an opportunity." His eyes, usually stern and assessing, held a glint of curiosity and respect. "I have watched your secret trainings, and I believe you both hold the potential to be more than jesters. If you wish to prove your worth, I can arrange for you to stand before the king and request knighthood." Lance's chest swelled with hope, while Bart's mischievous smirk grew into a genuine smile. They had found an unexpected ally in their quest.

"But why?" Lance asked, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice. "Why would you help us?"

Garret's gaze grew serious. "Because the kingdom needs heroes, not just jesters. And perhaps, with your unique blend of courage and jest, you can be the light that pierces the darkness that has enveloped us for too long." He paused, studying them both. "But know this, the path to knighthood is fraught with danger and deception. Are you ready to walk it?"

The two friends looked at each other, their eyes shining with excitement and trepidation. They had come so far together, and now, the opportunity they had dreamed of was within their grasp. "We are ready," they declared in unison, and with Melody's melodious laughter as their battle cry, they set forth on a journey that would test their friendship, their hearts, and their very souls.

With the protection of her newfound friends, Melody's music took on a new purpose. Her voice, once used to soothe the spirits of the townspeople, now resonated with a call to arms—a gentle yet powerful demand for freedom. The trio strategically performed at the edge of the town square, their acts interwoven with Melody's stirring ballads that whispered of rebellion and the promise of a better tomorrow. Her words became anthems of hope, echoing through the cobblestone streets and seeping into the hearts of the downtrodden. The townsfolk, who had once only dared to dream of a world free from King Blackthorn's tyranny, began to murmur of change. A quiet revolution was brewing, and Melody's songs were its fuel. The air grew thick with anticipation, and even the most cautious among them could feel the tremors of a future where jesters might become knights, and a girl with a heavenly voice could lead them to victory.

King Blackthorn's spies, ever vigilant, soon brought news of the trio's blossoming rebellion to his ears. His face darkened with rage as he listened to the whispers of a jester with a dream, a musician with a message, and a guardian with a conscience. He knew that such unity could threaten the foundations of his power. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a squadron of his most ruthless soldiers to apprehend Melody and bring her before him, her enchanting voice silenced once and for all.

Later that night, the square was alive with laughter and music as Melody's sweet voice filled the air once more. The townsfolk danced and sang along, their spirits soaring higher than the flaming torches that lit the night. Unseen by the revelers, a shadow fell over the festival as King Blackthorn's soldiers, armed and menacing, crept through the alleyways, their eyes searching for the source of the sedition. Just as Melody reached the crescendo of her most rousing ballad, the sound of clashing steel pierced the night. The music faltered, and the dancers froze. The soldiers descended upon the gathering, their faces twisted with malice. In the chaos, Bart and Lance managed to fight alongside Captain Garret, their newfound skills surprisingly effective against the invaders. But it was Melody's voice that truly became their weapon, as she sang a haunting tune that seemed to tug at the very fabric of their hearts. Despite their efforts, the soldiers were too many, and in a heart-wrenching moment, Melody was ripped from their grasp, her cries for help lost in the cacophony of battle. Garret, ever the protector, was captured as well, leaving the two jesters to watch in horror as the village they had sworn to shield went up in flames, a twisted smile on the face of the retreating soldiers. As the inferno raged, Bart and Lance knew that their quest had just become much more than a jest; it was now a battle for the very soul of Veridion.

As the flames of the village square danced in their eyes, Bart and Lance stared in disbelief at the smoldering remains of their shattered dreams. Defeated and desolate, they slumped against the charred stones, their makeshift weapons useless at their sides. Goodheart, his eyes glistening with a mix of pride and sorrow, placed a gnarled hand on Lance's shoulder. "You can't let this be the end, my boy," he said, his voice crackling like the fire that surrounded them. "Melody's light is not yet extinguished, and neither should your spirit be." He turned to Bart, whose shoulders were slumped in despair. "Your hearts are pure, and your friendship unbreakable. Use it as your shield and your sword." The old man's gaze grew steely. "Go, find Melody. Show King Blackthorn that the power of laughter and song cannot be so easily silenced. Prove that jesters can indeed become knights in the most unexpected of battles." With newfound resolve, the two friends nodded, gripping their steel swords given to them by Goodheart firmly. They would not rest until Melody was safe and the tyranny of Veridion was brought to its knees. Together, they vowed to bring joy and justice back to the kingdom, one jest and one battle at a time.

In the cold, stone chamber of King Blackthorn's fortress, Melody stood defiantly, her eyes flashing with the fire of her convictions. The king sneered, his thin lips curling into a cruel smile. "Your little performance was quite enchanting, Melody," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "But it seems your dear Captain Garret had other intentions."

Garret, his hands bound and his expression a mask of fury, glared at the king. "You lie!" he bellowed. "I stand for the people, not for your twisted games!"

Melody's heart was a tumult of emotions—shock, anger, and betrayal all fighting for dominance. Yet, she refused to let the king's words shake her. She knew the man before her was not the honorable knight she had come to admire. Instead, she turned to Garret, her voice strong and clear. "Your actions have spoken louder than any words, Captain," she said. "You've shown us the true meaning of courage and compassion."

The chamber grew tense as Blackthorn leaned back in his throne, his eyes gleaming with malicious pleasure as he watched Garret struggle against his bindings. "Ah, the valor of a traitor," he taunted. "But fear not, my dear Melody. Your dear captain's betrayal is but a small price to pay for the greater good of the kingdom." His smile grew colder, and Melody's heart sank as she realized the depth of the captain's sacrifice. Garret's eyes, filled with pain and regret, met hers briefly before he lunged at the king, his bound hands striking Blackthorn's face with a resounding crack. The guards, their loyalty to their monarch unwavering, descended upon Garret like a pack of wolves, their blows raining down upon him. The sound of flesh meeting metal and bone snapping echoed through the chamber, and Melody's horror grew as she watched the man who had offered her friendship and protection be torn apart before her very eyes.

With a flick of his wrist, King Blackthorn signaled to his guards. "Take him away," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Let him rot in the dungeons until the morrow, when his treachery shall be made an example of." The guards dragged the defeated Garret from the chamber, his eyes never leaving Melody's as he was taken away to face his grim fate.

Turning his attention back to Melody, King Blackthorn's smile grew sinister. "Now, my dear," he said, "you have a choice to make. Use your enchanting voice to sing my praises, to turn the hearts of the people against this ridiculous rebellion, and I shall grant you a life of comfort and luxury beyond your wildest dreams. Or," he leaned in, his breath foul with the stench of power, "you shall join your traitorous friend in the dungeon, where your sweet melodies will be lost to the world forever."

Melody's voice did not waver as she stared back at the king. "I will never sing for a tyrant," she declared, her eyes shining with the unyielding spirit of a true heroine. The color drained from Blackthorn's face, his fists clenching in rage. "Very well," he spat. "Take her to the dungeons! Let her think on her decision as she shares a cell with the man who foolishly tried to protect her." With a wave of his hand, the guards closed in, their rough hands grabbing her. As she was led away, she could hear Blackthorn's maniacal laughter echoing through the halls of the castle, a chilling reminder of the darkness they faced.

In the bowels of the castle, the dungeon was a stark contrast to the opulence above. The air was thick with the scent of despair, and the walls echoed with the faint whispers of past agonies. Melody was thrown into a cell, the heavy door slamming shut behind her with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine. Her thoughts raced, her mind a whirlwind of fear and determination. Despite the cold, damp embrace of the stone, she felt the warmth of her friends' belief in her, fueling her resolve to stand firm against the king's demands. Meanwhile, Blackthorn plotted in his chambers, his thoughts twisted with rage and cunning. He knew that breaking a spirit like Melody's would not be easy, but he was more than willing to use any means necessary to bend her to his will. As the candles flickered, casting eerie shadows on the wall, he ordered his most feared interrogator to prepare for a long night of 'persuasion'. The sound of his sinister laughter sent a chill through the very stones of the castle, for he knew that the jesters' hearts would soon be tested in the crucible of pain and fear, and he was eager to see if their friendship could truly withstand the fires of adversity.

In the cold, damp dungeon, the only light came from a solitary torch flickering on the wall. Garret and Melody sat on the stone floor, their wrists bound with heavy chains that rattled as they moved. Despite his pain, Garret's eyes searched Melody's face, which was a map of bruises and determination. "I never told you this," he began, his voice low and earnest, "but I was there that night at the festival when you sang. I watched from the shadows, moved by the beauty of your voice and the courage in your eyes. That's when I knew, deep down, that the kingdom needed more than jesters to survive. It needed heroes like you."

Melody looked at him, her own eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered.

"I wanted to," he replied, his voice strained with the effort of speaking through his bruised jaw. "But I didn't want to burden you with the weight of my hope. You had enough to bear already."

Garret's confession filled Melody with a warmth that countered the chill of the dungeon. "You truly believe in me?" she asked, her voice shaking.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "More than anyone, Melody. Your voice has the power to unite and heal. That's why I tried to shield you from this fate."

Melody's eyes searched his, understanding the depth of his sacrifice. "And what of your dreams, Captain?"

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper. "My dream is to see you safe, your voice free to change the world."

Their hearts resonating with a bond forged in adversity, they began to sing a duet, their voices intertwining in a poignant melody of love and hope. The song grew in power, filling the dank dungeon with a warmth that seemed to chase away the shadows. As their voices reached a crescendo, their hearts aligned, and in a moment of pure emotion, they kissed, a silent promise to stand together against the tyranny that sought to silence them. The sound of their voices grew stronger, echoing through the castle's corridors like a battle cry, a testament to the enduring strength of friendship and love in the face of darkness. And as their lips parted, they knew that no matter what fate had in store for them, they would face it side by side, their spirits unbroken and their voices unbowed.

Back in the bustling town, Bart and Lance had not wasted a moment after Melody's capture. Their minds raced with plans of rescue and rebellion, their spirits fueled by the memory of her hauntingly beautiful song. With the help of Goodheart and some of the more adventurous townsfolk, they managed to procure a map of the castle's hidden entrances. The journey to the fortress was fraught with danger, but their determination was unshakeable. As they tiptoed through the shadowy corridors of Blackthorn's stronghold, their jesters' instincts served them well, turning potential disasters into comedic escapades. A misstep triggered a trap door, sending Lance plummeting into a pit of straw, only to emerge sneezing and covered in hay. Another close call had them accidentally setting off a cascade of rolling boulders, which they barely dodged with a perfectly timed pratfall. Despite the gravity of their mission, they couldn't help but laugh at their own misfortune, their friendship providing a beacon of light in the gloom. Yet, with each mishap, they grew more adept at navigating the treacherous labyrinth, their bond tightening with every shared look of relief and every whispered strategy.

As they ventured deeper into the castle, the laughter and camaraderie of their earlier escapades fell away, replaced by a solemn silence that hung heavy in the air. They stumbled into a dusty chamber, filled with shelves groaning under the weight of forgotten scrolls and parchments. The light from their makeshift torches danced across the pages, revealing a trove of secrets long hidden from the public eye. With trembling hands, they began to sift through the documents. The discovery they made was so stunning, so utterly unexpected, that it took a moment for the gravity of it to sink in. There, in the dusty annals of the castle, they found the truth: King Blackthorn was not the rightful ruler of Veridion. Goodheart, the very man they had watched being bullied in the town square, was the true heir to the throne. The revelation hit them like a thunderclap, and they stared at each other, their expressions a mix of disbelief and dawning understanding.

20 years ago, Goodheart ruled the kingdom of Veridion with his wife The Queen. By that point, the Queen had died giving birth to a daughter so he had to rule the kingdom alone following the death of The Queen. Eventually, a sorcerer Malachi Blackthorn mounted a treacherous coup and deposed Goodheart. Goodheart believed his daughter to be have been killed in the coup and he is forced to live his life as a beggar. Eventually, they piece together that Melody is Goodheart's long-lost daughter and the rightful heir to the throne.

As the weight of their discovery settled upon them, a soft, familiar cough echoed through the chamber. They whirled around to find Goodheart standing in the doorway, his eyes gleaming with a mix of hope and regret. "I've been watching you two," he said, his voice filled with quiet pride. "You've come so far from the jesters I knew. You've become true heroes of Veridion." Lance and Bart stared at him, their mouths agape, as he continued. "You see, I am not just a simple beggar. I am the rightful king of this land, and Melody," his voice grew hoarse with emotion, "is my daughter. For twenty years, I've lived with the guilt of failing to protect her and my queen. But now, with your help, I can set things right." The revelation shook them to their core, but it also brought a newfound purpose to their mission. They had not just been fighting for a jester's whimsical dream or a musician's voice; they were fighting for the very future of their kingdom. Goodheart's vow to reclaim his throne resonated within them, and together, the trio steeled themselves for the battle ahead. They had to rescue Melody, reveal the truth, and overthrow the tyrant who had stolen their destiny. The fate of Veridion rested in their hands, and as they moved with renewed vigor through the castle's shadowy corridors, their hearts swelled with the promise of redemption and the sweet taste of justice.

Bart and Lance tells Goodheart to gather the townspeople to in an attempt to storm the fortress. Goodheart nodded solemnly, the gravity of their mission etched on his weary face. "I will not fail you," he said, before slipping away into the night to gather the townspeople. With newfound urgency, Bart and Lance continued their clandestine search for Melody and Garret. The castle's labyrinthine corridors seemed to close in around them, each step echoing like a declaration of war. Their hearts pounded in their chests, not just from the exertion of their quest, but from the knowledge that the fate of Veridion rested upon their shoulders. They had to be swift, silent, and precise, like shadows dancing in the moonlight. They had to be more than jesters; they had to be the knights they had always dreamed of becoming.

King Blackthorn's eyes narrowed as he heard the distant murmur of a growing mob, the sound of their fury rushing towards the castle like a tidal wave. His gaze fell upon the map on his desk, the hidden entrances they had discovered earlier now marked with a snarl of rage. "Guards!" he bellowed. "Jesters have infiltrated the fortress, searching for the girl. Find them and silence them permanently!" The castle's alarms sounded, sending soldiers scurrying like ants to protect their malevolent queen. Meanwhile, Goodheart had rallied the townspeople, their faces a mix of anger and hope as they marched towards the castle with makeshift weapons and unshakeable resolve. As the king's grip on the throne grew more precarious, he knew he had to act swiftly. "Sound the battle horns," he ordered. "We shall meet this rebellion with fire and steel." The air grew thick with tension as the clank of armor and the stomping of booted feet echoed through the fortress. Blackthorn knew that the night ahead would be a bloody one, but he had no intention of letting his ill-gotten power slip away without a fight. As the two forces converged—the jesters navigating the treacherous halls and the townspeople charging the castle gates—the fate of Veridion hung in the balance, poised on the edge of a knife that gleamed with the promise of a new dawn or the finality of despair.

The night air was torn apart by the fierce cacophony of battle as the townspeople of Veridion clashed with King Blackthorn's soldiers. Arrows rained down from the castle's ramparts, piercing the darkness with their deadly intent. The ground was slick with the spilled blood of the brave souls who had dared to challenge the tyrant's rule. Flaming torches cast hellish shadows across the faces of the combatants, while the stench of burning oil filled the air as the jesters' cleverly placed traps turned the castle's own defenses against its corrupt ruler. Despite their valor, the tide of battle began to turn in Blackthorn's favor.

Back inside the fortress, the echoes of distant battles grew louder as Bart and Lance navigated the torchlit dungeons. The scent of damp stone and despair was almost palpable, but it was the sight of Melody and Garret, their faces etched with hope and fear, that spurred them on. When they reached the cell, they found the pair leaning against the bars, their eyes glued to the chaos unfolding beyond the castle walls. Lance stepped forward, his voice a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Melody," he began, "there's something you need to know." She turned to him, her eyes wide with anticipation. "You're not just a street performer," he said. "You're the daughter of the true king of Veridion." The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their implication. Garret's eyes widened in shock, and he fell to one knee before her, his bound hands clasped in a gesture of reverence. "My lady," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "I am unworthy to stand before you."

Melody, stunned by this revelation, searched the faces of her friends for any sign of deceit, but found only earnestness and hope. Her mind raced with the implications of this truth. "But what does this mean?" she whispered. "What do we do now?"

Bart, ever the pragmatist, took charge. "We get you out of here, first," he said, fumbling with the lock. "And then we deal with that madman Blackthorn."

As the lock clicked open, the sound seemed to resonate through the very stones of the castle, a declaration of intent that could not be silenced. The three of them stepped out into the flickering torchlight, the warmth of their friendship and newfound kinship a stark contrast to the cold embrace of their surroundings. They had a battle to win, a throne to claim, and a kingdom to save.

As they sprinted through the dungeon's narrow corridors, the roar of the battle above grew louder, the vibrations of clashing steel and the cries of the townspeople echoing in their ears. Suddenly, a squad of guards rounded the corner, and in the ensuing confusion, Lance stumbled into a side passage, his heart racing. He watched in despair as Bart, Garret, and Melody were swallowed by the shadows, their muffled calls for him fading into the cacophony of the castle's chaos. Alone and afraid, Lance knew he had to find a way out, not just for himself, but for his friends and the future of Veridion. Summoning his courage, he forged ahead, his dream of knighthood now a stark reality. Every step was fraught with danger, every shadow a potential enemy. Yet, the thought of Melody's voice, her song of hope, propelled him forward. He had to believe that together, they could still change the course of the kingdom's destiny.

But as he ventured deeper into the bowels of the fortress, Lance stumbled upon something far more sinister than he could have ever imagined. The air grew colder, the walls adorned with ancient runes that seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy.

Lance's heart skipped a beat as he emerged into a chamber, the air thick with dark magic. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the source of the malicious aura: King Malachi Blackthorn, his eyes glowing with a sickly green light, standing before an ancient tome bound in human skin. The king's twisted smile grew wider as he looked up from his arcane studies and spotted the jester. "Ah, the little mouse has found its way into the lion's den," he sneered, raising a sword that crackled with eldritch energy. "But fear not, for I shall give you the battle you seek, Lance Finnegan. A knight you wish to be, a knight you shall face."

With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle, Blackthorn launched himself at Lance, the blade of his sword slicing through the air like a bolt of lightning. Lance, with nothing but his wits and the steel sword given to him by Goodheart, had no choice but to defend himself. The clang of steel on steel reverberated through the chamber as the two men danced a deadly waltz, their every move a testament to the power of ambition and the lengths one would go to achieve it. The tyrant's blows were swift and precise, each one aimed to cut Lance down, while Lance's own strikes were clumsy yet driven by a fierce determination to protect his friends and claim Melody's birthright.

Their duel was a spectacle of light and shadow, the flaming torches casting dramatic flickers across their sweat-soaked faces. The very air around them seemed to crackle with the tension of their clashing wills. Each parry and thrust brought them closer to the truth of their destinies, the very fabric of Veridion's future hanging in the balance with every strike. And as the battle raged on, it became clear that this was no ordinary fight, but a clash of ideals and dreams, of good against evil, of hope against despair.

Bart, Garret, and Melody emerged from the castle into the chaos of battle, their hearts heavy with the weight of their mission. The townspeople were outmatched and outnumbered, their makeshift weapons no match for the king's seasoned soldiers. Desperation painted the faces of the rebels as the castle's gate creaked under the relentless onslaught. In that moment, Melody's eyes searched the battlefield and fell upon the terrified faces of the townsfolk. Raising her voice, she began to sing once more, a song of unity and valor that seemed to pierce the very night itself. The tune, a melody of hope and defiance soared.

As Melody's powerful voice resonated across the battlefield, the townspeople's spirits soared, bolstering their courage. Garret, standing tall beside her, shouted the revelation to the heavens, "Behold, Melody, daughter of the true King Goodheart, the rightful heir to the throne of Veridion!" The stunned soldiers faltered, their morale wavering as the truth echoed through the night. The crowd's gaze shifted from the fiery battle to the girl who stood with a regal poise that belied her street performer's garb. Goodheart, tears streaming down his face, pushed through the throng, reaching for his lost daughter. The moment their hands touched, a palpable surge of energy rippled through the air, a silent promise of justice and redemption. The townspeople fell to their knees, pledging their allegiance to their rightful ruler. With her father at her side, Melody's song grew stronger, her voice a beacon that cut through the din of war, rallying the weary rebels. Together, they stood as a symbol of hope, a testament to the enduring power of love and truth in the face of tyranny. The tide of battle began to turn, and the walls of the castle trembled with the collective roar of the people's determination to reclaim their stolen destiny.

With Garret's valorous cries joining the fray, the townspeople of Veridion surged forward with renewed vigor, their makeshift weapons now wielded with the strength of a thousand knights. The castle's gates, once a bastion of Blackthorn's tyranny, now trembled with the force of their collective will. As the final barricade fell, the castle's once-mighty defenders dropped their arms, recognizing the true power that had been unleashed.

Above the tumult of the battle, Lance and Blackthorn's duel raged on, a dizzying display of steel and shadow on the castle walls. Their silhouettes danced against the backdrop of the fiery night sky, a macabre ballet of fate. Each blow was a clash of light and dark, echoing the deeper struggle within Lance's soul. His eyes never left the king's, a silent promise of the justice that was to come. On the ground below, Bart, Garret, Goodheart, and Melody watched with bated breath, their hearts wound tight with hope and fear.

In a twist of fate that seemed as if it had been scripted by the gods themselves, Lance saw an opportunity in Blackthorn's overconfident grin. Drawing on his years of jesting experience, he feigned a clumsy misstep, mimicking one of their old comedy routines. The king, caught off guard by the unexpected maneuver, stumbled and lost his footing. His eyes widened in shock as he realized the deadly mistake he had made, and with a final, desperate cry, he plummeted from the castle's ramparts into the abyss below. The ground trembled as his body hit the unforgiving earth, and his malevolent reign over Veridion ended in a moment of poetic justice. Lance stood at the edge, panting and trembling, his sword still raised. He had become the hero he always dreamed of, not through knightly valor, but through the cleverness and wit that had once been the hallmark of his jests. Looking down at the shattered body of the tyrant, Lance felt a strange mix of relief and grief. He had slain a monster, but in doing so, he had also taken a life. The realization weighed heavily on his shoulders, a stark reminder of the gravity of the path he had chosen.

The townsfolk below, witnessing the tyrant's fall, erupted into cheers that echoed through the night, their voices a symphony of liberation. The castle's remaining defenders dropped their weapons, recognizing the futility of their cause. The battlefield transformed into a scene of jubilation as the people of Veridion embraced one another, their laughter and tears mingling in the cool evening air. The kingdom stood on the precipice of a new dawn, one where the chains of fear and oppression would be shattered by the light of hope and freedom.

The four companions, their hearts pounding with the excitement of victory, descended the castle's stairs to be met by an adoring crowd. Goodheart stepped forward, his eyes shining with pride as he addressed the people. "Veridion," he called out, his voice strong and clear, "I present to you, Melody, your true queen!" The townsfolk fell silent, awestruck by the beauty and poise of the girl before them, and then they roared with approval. Melody looked out at her subjects, her eyes filled with the same fiery determination that had fueled her father's reign. "Together," she said, her voice resonant with the power of her lineage, "we will rebuild this kingdom and restore its former glory!"

The crowd's cheers grew louder, a crescendo of hope that seemed to shake the very stars above. The jesters had become heroes, the lost princess had been found, and the dark night of tyranny had been vanquished by the light of their collective spirit. As they walked among the people, basking in their newfound respect and admiration, Lance couldn't help but think of the long road that had led them here, filled with laughter, tears, and the unshakeable bond of friendship. They had faced their fears and conquered them, not with brute strength, but with the power of love, humor, and the unyielding belief in a better tomorrow.

Goodheart, now a beacon of justice, swiftly addressed the cowed soldiers of Blackthorn. "You who have served under a tyrant," he said, his voice firm yet tinged with sorrow, "are no longer knights of Veridion. You will be stripped of your ranks and confined to the very dungeons you once guarded. May your days of darkness lead you to the light of redemption." The soldiers, once feared, now cowed, offered no resistance as they were led away. The square was ablaze with the light of new beginnings, and in its center stood Garret, his heart swelling with love and valor. He knelt before Melody, his eyes brimming with hope. "My lady," he said, his voice trembling, "will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and ruling by my side?" Melody, overwhelmed by the gravity of the moment, placed her hand in his. "Yes," she whispered, her voice carrying the sweetness of a thousand melodies. "I will stand with you, Sir Garret, and together we shall restore Veridion to its former glory." The crowd erupted in cheers, their hearts alight with joy and hope. Goodheart, witnessing this union, turned to the two jesters who had become so much more. "Bart, Lance," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "you have shown the valor of true knights. As a token of my eternal gratitude, I hereby dub thee Sir Lancelot Finnegan and Sir Bartholomew Montague, guardians of the realm and loyal protectors of our future king and queen." The jesters knelt before the man they had once called a beggar, their hearts swelling with pride. They had found a purpose beyond laughter, a destiny they could not have foreseen. As they rose, their capes fell away, replaced with the gleaming armor of knighthood. The kingdom of Veridion had been saved not by might alone, but by the power of friendship, courage, and the unyielding belief in a world where even the smallest voice could change the course of history.

The square transformed into a sea of celebration, the townspeople's cheers reverberating off the castle walls as they hailed the return of their rightful king and the revelation of his heir. Amidst the jovial chaos, Sir Lancelot and Sir Bartholomew emerged, gleaming in their newfound knightly attire. Lance, still unaccustomed to the weight of the armor, took an overly dramatic bow, his legs wobbling beneath him. With a clatter and a thud, he toppled over, sending a ripple of laughter through the crowd.

THE END

[gatutor]

Bud Abbott-Cathy Downs-Lou Costello "Con la soga casi al cuello" (The noose hangs high) 1948, de Charles Barton.

[citizenscreen]

Bud Abbott reads a newspaper article announcing the death of his partner, Lou Costello, on March 4, 1959.

[atomic-raunch]

In honor of Lou’s birthday yesterday, here’s him and Bud with Dorothy Darrell in a pinup promo for Buck Privates, 1941

[tanambogo2113]

Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein 1948

Bela Lugosi almost didn't appear in Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein because the studio thought he was dead.

[scribledon]

I keep forgetting to post here lol… have some boyos

[retrotariotr]

Abbott and Costello 🎙️