This is the
most extensive and noted scene which was omitted from the final cut of Bogus
Jouney. After the Evil Robot Bill & Ted leave behind smoking cylinders
at the Logan household on De Nomolos' orders, they emerge as Bill & Ted's
Fears from Hell, only more exaggerated and scarier than ever! Colonel
Oates is even more menacing and threatening with huge weapons, Granny S.
Preston, Esq. is a wildly exaggerated version of herself tooling around in a
hopped up wheelchair, and the Easter Bunny is a eight-foot high behemoth with
razor sharp teeth and claws! These fears confront Bill & Ted in the
van as they are on their way to the Battle of the Bands. At first Bill
& Ted try to run, leading to a wild car chase, but eventually when they are
cornered they realize the only way to survive is to face their fears, which they
force themselves to do. As they do, their fear disappear, one by one.
there was a small scene which happened just before this larger segment which was
reinstated into the movie during its syndicated showings in the United States:
storyboards also illustrate how this scene played out originally:
behind-the-scene photo shows the maquette of the giant Easter bunny!
This scene was
also included in the novelization as follows (the photos are not from the novel
but included for illustrative purposes):
From the back of the van Ted
shouted. "Bill! Check it out!"
Bill craned around for a quick
look. The two Good Robot Bill and Teds were far from finished - they were
still a rough patchwork, a loosely constructed pair of beings of wire, metal and
cloth, as well as some small household appliances, like a blender and a
DustBuster - but they had sat up, jerkily, like a pair of marionettes.
They were performing their first attempts at air guitar, which sounded terrible
- just like Bill and Tedís attempts on the real thing. The best thing
about the two robots was that, like their human prototypes, they had that
forever optimistic and friendly look in their eyes, the mark of the real Bill S.
Preston, Esquire, and Ted "Theodore" Logan.
"Whoa!" exclaimed Bill.
"Excellent!" said Ted.
"Booo-gusss!" said the
The look on the robotsí faces had
changed dramatically. They were staring fixedly through the windshield of
the van. Their bodies jerked spasmodically, and their still unfocused eyes
were filled with what appeared to be fear.
of them managed to get his arm up, and he pointed out at the highway before
"Whatís goiní on, guys?"
All of them stared at the
highway. In the middle of the road three figures stood facing them, and
behind them was Evil Bill and Evil Tedís Porsche parked across the road,
blocking it completely. Bill and Ted couldnít make out the three
figures, just their outlines. One was tall, very tall, and shaped like a
pear. He had very long, slightly floppy ears. The figure in the
middle was small, withered and hunched over and, strangely enough, given that
this was the middle of the street, seated in a wheelchair. The last figure
was stout, powerfully built and stood hands on hips. There was something
very familiar - and scary - about these guys, something that Bill and Ted couldnít
Whatever it was, the robots, with their
superior brains, had sensed it immediately. They were still in the
backseat, trembling with fear.
Bill hit the brakes. "Looks
like a roadblock."
"But . . . but thatís not the
police . . . itís . . . Turn on the brights, dude."
Bill flicked on the high beams,
flooding the street with the white light. Bill and Ted screamed the scream
of the damned - for their path was blocked by their worst nightmares: Granny S.
Preston, Colonel Oats and a seven- foot-high pink Easter Bunny.
"No waaaaay!" shrieked Bill
and Ted, totally unable to believe their eyes.
When it came to scaring people, De
Nomolos certainly knew what he was doing. He was a master. In the
underworld, Oats, Granny Preston and the Easter Bunny had been horrible enough,
but here and now in quiet little old San Dimas they were worse, far worse.
Bill and Tedís worst fears, as conjured up by De Nomolos and delivered by his
evil robots, were terrifying, and they looked unbeatable, invincible.
Bill and Ted could only stare,
horrified, at the terrible apparitions blocking their path. Oats, Granny
Preston and the Easter Bunny were no longer just their worst fears; they had
been magnified a thousand times over, intensified to the point that they had
ceased to be normal human fears and become instead King Kong-sized horrors,
terrible monsters that paralyzed them with fear. The three figures before
them were Bill and Tedís worst fears on steroids.
Colonel Oatsís muscles bulged in his
combat fatigues, his face red and frenzied and a mask of fury. He carried
a bazooka the size of a length of sewer pipe. Granny S. Preston was
scarier-looking than Bill had ever seen her (and he had once caught a glimpse of
her early one morning, before she had her face on - the sight had made him
shudder for weeks). The stark white hair on her head stood up straight,
sort of like the bride of Frankenstein, but not as neat, and the bristly hair on
her upper lip and on her chin was as thick and as rough as barbed wire.
The Easter Bunny was as tall as Minut Bol but a lot more menacing, mainly
because of his teeth, which were big and stainless steel. It looked as if
he had a mouth full of garden shears, which was not a feature you normally
associated with an Easter Bunny.
"No!" screamed Bill, "it
can't be! We left them behind in the underworld."
This was true. Even the Grim
Reaper looked puzzled - when he wasnít looking terrified, that is.
Scaring Death was something that didnít happen every day.
"No way!" yelped Ted.
Oats stepped forward and pointed the
bazooka at them. "Yes way, you pitiful sissies," he
snarled. "Now get out of that van. And I mean now. Thatís
an order! And when I give an order, then little worms like you obey
Now, Bill and Ted could not be certain
of much in their crazy lives, but right then they were absolutely, positively
sure of one thing: There was no way on earth they were getting out of that van.
Bill didnít have to think about it;
he reacted instinctively. He threw the van into reverse and stood on the
accelerator, flooring it. As if the tired old van itself were terrified, a
bolt of power surged into the clapped-out engine and the vehicle shot
backward. Then Bill cranked the wheel, throwing the van into a perfect
180-degree turn. The bald old tires screamed and smoked as the car whipped
in a circle, and inside the van the Grim Reaper, Station and the good robots
were thrown around until they were a tangle of arms and legs.
"Theyíre getting away!"
stormed Oats. "Letís get Ďem."
The Easter Bunny hopped over to the
Porsche and bit into the roof, puncturing it as if it were a tin can; then he
took his giant, powerful pink paws and tore the whole sheet of metal off.
In a matter of seconds the Porsche was a convertible, and it had a seven-foot
Easter Bunny in the backseat. Colonel Oats dove into the driverís seat
and gunned the engine.
"Throw the old lady a rope,"
he ordered the Easter Bunny. "Now! You hopping pink stuffed
The Easter Bunny whipped out a rope and
tossed it to Granny S. Preston, who caught it neatly. "Hit it!"
"Rolling, you four-and-a-half-foot
gray-haired little shriv!" Oats snarled at Granny Preston.
"Drop dead, Oats," Granny
Preston snarled right back.
Oats fired up the engine, gave it all
the gas he had, all at once, and the powerful car lurched forward, rocketing
down the street as if it had been fired from a piece of heavy artillery.
Granny Preston, still sitting in her chair, was yanked along behind.
This was certainly not the Granny S.
Preston Bill had known his whole life. He was watching their pursuers in
the rearview mirror. He gripped the wheel, white-knuckled and more scared
than he had ever been before in his life. This just could not be happening
to them. No way.
Ted, at the rear of the van, watching
through the back window, gulped. "Go faster, dude!" he yelled to
No matter how scared you might be, no
matter how much you might want to get away, itís a simple fact that a
twenty-year-old van that has never really run right cannot outrun a new
seventy-five-thousand-dollar Porsche. In a matter of seconds, the
supercharged black sports car was right on the tail of the van. Ted
watched as Colonel Oats yanked the wheel to the right, causing the car to veer
and whipping Granny S. Preston to the left. She swung like a tetherball,
catching up with the van. She rolled along next to the driver-side
window. She leaned in close, her lips all puckered up.
"Hello, Bill," she
screeched. "How about that kiss for your little old
Granny?" She made these really disgusting little kiss-kiss sounds.
"Yaaaarghgh!" Bill screamed,
and he cranked the wheel to the right. The van careened into the other
lane, then up onto the shoulder, and totalled a road sign: SAN DIMAS CIVIC
AUDITORIUM - ONE MILE. PLEASE DRIVE SAFELY.
Back in the Porsche, Colonel Oats was
busy with phase two of his plan. "Get out there," he screamed
over the rushing wind and the roar of the engine. "Get out there, you
great bouncing, furry egg-delivering behemoth."
The Easter Bunny stood in the backseat
and hopped through the torn-up roof, landing on the hood of the car. He
paused a moment to get his balance and then hopped again and thumped down hard
on the roof of the van, the thin metal buckling under his weight.
The force of the Easter Bunny hitting
the roof threw Station and the robots and the Grim Reaper flat on the floor of
the van. Robot Ted smacked his head on the wheel well and his eyes spun
"Howwwws it dooooooinnnnní?"
Robot Ted croaked. He did not look well, what with being only
half-finished, rocked and rolled and terrified into the bargain.
"No so good, Robot me," said
Ted frankly. "But thanks a lot for asking."
"Station, are they okay?"
"Station," said Station with
a shrug. Now Ted really was worried, mainly because he had never seen
Station looking worried. Station had that look on his face, like a doctor
who thinks he might be about to lose a patient.
"Bill, what are we gonna do?
Our robots are getting totally thrashed!"
"I dunno!" yelled Bill.
"Kissy-kissy, Billy," yowled
Granny S. Preston, still right there outside the window.
But things were, if you can believe it,
about to get worse. Suddenly, two great yellow steel fangs slammed through
the roof of the van, slicing through the metal as if it were nothing stronger
than aluminum foil. The flashing blades missed the Grim Reaperís head by
The Easter Bunny clawed at the roof and
then peeled back the sheet of steel, as if opening a sardine can. He
leaned down into the van and glowered at Ted, his hideous face close, as if he
were about to bite his head off in a single snap of those murderous teeth.
Spittle dripped from his lips and he
leered menacingly, staring into Tedís frightened eyes with fury.
"You stole little Deaconís Easter basket."
The words, delivered by an Easter Bunny
with murder in his heart, were enough to make any man, Martian, underworld ghoul
or robot quail.
Ted and the Grim Reaper screamed.
Screaming wasnít yet in Good Robot Bill and Tedís vocabulary, but they
expressed themselves the best they could.
"Nooo waaaay! Noooo
waaaaay! Noooo waaay!" they yelled, flailing around on the floor
of the careening van.
The amphitheater loomed up ahead of
them, so Bill raced the van into the parking lot and slammed on the brakes,
laying down yards of smoking rubber. The van came skidding across the lot,
shooting like a large, black torpedo straight for a pristine, picture-perfect
BMW. The owner of the BMW stared at the van hurtling toward him, and Bill
stared back, wondering if his meager insurance would cover the total he was
about to inflict on the expensive car. He decided it wouldnít, and at
the last possible split second he cranked the wheel, throwing the van into a
sideswipe, stopping just short of the BMW.
"Close," said Bill.
Granny S. Preston whirled around the
van, roping the doors shut, slamming to a halt right where she had started -
just outside Billís window.
"Hello, Bill," she
cooed. "Kissy-kissy for your Granny S. Preston?"
Bill quickly rolled the window shut.
Now things were pretty serious - even
Bill and Ted, who, by nature, were inclined to look on the bright side of
things, could see that. Their future wives had been kidnapped by evil
robots, the Battle of the Bands was about to begin, a homicidal Easter Bunny was
trying to claw his way through the roof of their mortally wounded van, and
Granny S. Preston had them trapped and was waiting for her kiss - it was hard to
see the silver lining in this particular bank of clouds.
"What are we gonna do?" asked
Ted in a panicky voice. "We canít shake Ďem."
Bill saw that there was only one thing
they could do. The very thought filled him with horror. He put a
hand on Tedís shoulder. "Ted, thereís only one thing we can do .
. . " He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about
to say. "We gotta face Ďem."
Ted gulped. "Bill, youíre
right. We gotta do it." He looked at the Easter Bunny.
"Iíll be with you in a moment, dude." He leaned out of the
passenger side window and tapped on the glass of the BMW. "Excuse me,
dude - I gotta use your car phone. Donít worry - local call."
The BMW driver was still staring,
bug-eyed, at the van, and he could be forgiven for not quite believing his
eyes. After all, it wasnít every day you came across a van besieged by
an elderly woman in a wheelchair, not to mention saw a giant Easter Bunny
attempting to devour any kind of vehicle.
Stunned, he passed the phone through
the window. "Sure," he said in a faraway sort of voice.
"Help yourself. Take your time. No hurry."
"ĎPreciate it," said Ted.
Bill was ready to face the music.
He took one last look at Granny S. Preston and slowly rolled down the
window. He looked like a man headed inexorably for the gallows . . .
Ted dialed his home number, and when
his little brother, Deacon, answered, he spoke in a rush, a great torrent of
"Hello, Deacon, itís Ted.
Listen, dude, ten years ago at Nana and Pop-popís house, I totally stole your
Easter basket and ate all your candy."
Deacon knew his brother Ted to be a
slightly, well, unusual person, so this sudden confession of a petty
theft committed some ten years before didnít startle him all that much.
"You did, huh?" said Deacon.
"Yes, me," said Ted, his
voice full of contrition. "I did it. I did it and Iím
"Fine," said Deacon.
"Now we know who pulled off the crime of the century." He hung
up, wondering how it was that he and Ted were related. It just didnít
seem possible sometimes.
The instant Ted confessed his crime,
the Easter Bunny stopped moving, stopped clawing at the roof of the van.
Bill had placed his lips against Granny
S. Prestonís leathery, hairy skin and, with super-human effort, managed to
give her a little smack on the cheek. Then his grandmother got a very
sweet look on her face - she wasnít really a heinous old lady, just a little
scary if you had to kiss her regularly - and patted Bill on the knee.
"Now," she said in that old
lady voice of hers, "that wasnít so bad, was it, Billy?"
"No, Granny S. Preston," said
Bill dutifully, as a good grandson should.
The Easter Bunny was gone, replaced by
the evil-looking tube from whence he came. It rolled off the roof and fell
to the asphalt of the parking lot, shattering into a million pieces. A
split second later, Granny S. Preston turned into her own cylinder and dropped,
it too shattering the minute it hit the ground.
Bill and Ted heaved huge, deep sighs of
relief. The Grim Reaper, Station and the Good Robots couldnít be quite
"Station!" screamed Station.
yelled Good Robot Bill and Ted.
But they werenít out of the woods
yet. In their euphoria, they had forgotten that there remained one powerful,
determined enemy, meaner and tougher than the Easter Bunny and Granny S. Preston
combined - Colonel Oats. Billís spirits plunged and fear coursed through
him when he saw, in the rearview mirror, the Porsche screech to a halt and
Colonel Oats emerge toting that big bazooka of his. He walked slowly
toward the van like a bad guy in a western. The guy was definitely
"Uh . . . Ted," said Bill.
Ted followed the line of Billís
worried gaze. "Uh-oh . . . "
Colonel Oats did not look happy.
He hated being let down by an Easter Bunny and an old lady - they would not have
been his first choice of allies. "Useless hippity-hoppiní pain in
the neck," he muttered, loading his artillery piece. "Stinkiní
no-good rolling little shriv. Iím gonna have to do this all by
myself." He slammed a shell into the chamber and cocked the weapon.
Bill and Ted looked at each other and
gulped. The Easter Bunny and Granny S. Preston were pussycats compared to
an angry creature from the underworld carrying a large-caliber weapon.
"How are we gonna get rid of
him?" yelled Ted.
"Dude," said Bill,
"there is only one way to get rid of a guy like this."
"Yah. We gotta use the one
weapon that we have that he has no defense against."
"We do? What?"
"We gotta kill him . . . "
"Totally," agreed Ted.
"Kill him with kindness,
"Oh. Yah. Right.
"Okay," said Bill
authoritatively. "Everybody - Death, Station, Robot Usís - we gotta
be totally nice to this dude, got it?"
"But," protested the Grim
Reaper, "he has a gun. A very large gun."
"Ignore it," advised Ted.
"Okay," said Bill.
"Everyone look friendly."
Bill pushed open the sliding door of
the van, while the rest of them organized themselves into a nice little
conversational group and did their best to smile at the man pointing a bazooka
Colonel Oats looked down the long
barrel, sighting the weapon squarely on Ted. "Decided to give up,
huh?" he barked. "Better this way. Puts you outta your
Ted smiled pleasantly.
"Colonel Oats, this is a pleasant surprise. Great to see you.
Come in, dude."
"Huh?" said Colonel
Oats. "Why arenít you scared? I like to see the fear in their
eyes before I waste my victims."
"Scared?" said Ted with a
laugh. "Why would we be scared of you, Colonel Oats?" Bill
and the rest tittered politely, as if they were well-mannered guests at a sedate
little tea party, astonished that anyone would think that they would be
scared of a gentle soul like Colonel Oats.
"Yah," said Bill.
"We couldnít be scared of an old teddy bear like you, Colonel."
"Itís like youíre a member of
the family," added Ted. He was rooting around in the glove
compartment of the van and had come up with a small, rather worn selection of
junk food. He held out a cake wrapped in cellophane as if trying to feed a
skittish animal. "Twinkie?" he asked.
"Family . . . ?" said Colonel
Oats, his voice quavering. "And a Twinkie?"
"Or perhaps our guest would prefer
a Ding Dong," said Bill "or a Snow Ball."
The Colonel Oats from Hell felt a
strange, warm and not altogether unpleasant sensation creep over him. It
was the uncommon feeling of having someone like him, of having someone be kind
to him. He let go of his heavy weapon, and the bazooka clattered to the
"There," said Ted soothingly,
"thatís better, isnít it?"
"Come on in, pal," said Bill,
"have a seat, have a Ding Dong and unburden your soul to us."
"Your friends," added Ted.
"Friends?" said Colonel Oats,
his jaw quivering. He allowed himself to be drawn into the van and settled
on one of the seats.
"Eat, Colonel Oats," said
Bill. "You must be terribly hungry. Itís been a long day."
"Yes . . . ," said Oats
wearily. He heaved a tremendous sigh and brushed a hand through his
sweaty, matted hair. "Iím so tired."
"There, there," said Ted.
"Yah. Relax. Youíre
among friends, dude."
"Friends," said Colonel Oats,
dreamily, as if the word were part of a magic incantation.
"Friends," reiterated Ted.
Colonel Oats looked from one friendly
face to the next and felt a lump rise in his throat. He took a large bite
from the Ding Dong, spilling crumbs down his chin and onto his battle
fatigues. It tasted wonderful.
"I . . . I . . . I wasnít always
like this . . . ," he said sadly. He looked like a man with the
weight of the world on his shoulders. "I wasnít always a bad
"You," said Bill,
"Pshaw," said Ted.
Suddenly, Colonel Oats found that he
was seized by an overwhelming desire to confess, to unburden his soul as Bill
had suggested he do.
"You see, when I was a teenager -
scarcely more than a little boy, really - my father used to spank me . . . he
used to spank me with an ammo clip. He . . . he frightened me."
Suddenly the hurt and fear of those days, feelings so long suppressed, came
flooding back into Colonel Oatsís tortured psyche. His eyes filled with
tears and his voice shook. "Now I realize that what I have been doing
for the past twenty years was just an attempt to be the kind of boy Daddy wanted
me to be . . . "
"Sadistic," suggested Bill
"Twisted," said Ted.
Colonel Oats nodded sadly. Robot
Bill stroked his hair and Robot Ted patted him gently on the shoulder.
Even the Grim Reaper looked touched. He, of all people, knew what it was
like not to be liked.
Colonel Oats didnít realize it, but,
like the Easter Bunny and Granny S. Preston, he was losing his effectiveness,
under the influence of the unrelenting kindness of Bill and Ted and his other
"What Iíve been doing for the
past twenty years is terrorizing young people - all to please my daddy."
Ted nodded. "Thatís an
important epiphany, Colonel Oats."
"Yah," said Bill.
"But you donít have to do that anymore now do you?"
"No," said Colonel Oats in a
very small voice.
"Promise?" said Ted.
"Yes," said Colonel Oats.
"Good," said Bill.
"Catch you later, dude."
And, in that instant, Colonel Oats
transformed back into one of the evil tubes and shattered.
"Well," said the Grim
Reaper. "Iím sure glad thatís over."
The comic book
adaptation also included this scene:
Audio clips from this omitted
scene were also included near the end of The Reaper Rap
on the Bogus Journey soundtrack. The words and sounds are hard to
pick out, but the dialogue
used includes these lines:
Get Ďem Granny! Bill & Ted:
Weíve got to face them. Colonel Oates:
Now get going!
Various moans and groans of fears
And then at the end we can hear Colonel
this scene were also featured on the Pro Set trading cards: