Original subtitles

One...

two, three.

Sorry.

There you go.

Hey out there, mister lonely.

This is Terry inside a park, comin' at you with excellent

tunage!

And now let's cop some more culture from Gardener's Corner.

It's Earl Gray, outdoor columnist for The Suggester.

Earl!

-Hi, everyone.

Welcome to Gardener's Corners, brought to you by your friends

at Manure Hut.

Slurred or chipped, for fresh fecal matter delivered to your

doorstep.

We're the ones responsible.

-Oh!

There's our first call.

-Hi, Earl, um, this is Betty from Sharpsburg.

Um, yeah, I'm calling about ways of--

-Well, welcome, Betty.

-Yeah, of repelling deer from my garden.

Um, I have tomatoes and lettuce and-- and it's getting worse.

It's a big problem.

Every day, it's worse.

-They're-- it's an invasion!

What--

-Uh, well...

-What can be done about this, Earl?

-What can be done?

Indeed, whatever must be done, you may have to set a trap.

-Trap me? -Mm-hm.

-A trap that-- that will not kill, but maim.

-Yeah.

-The maimed deer will spread his tail,

and the scent of his wounds will warn the others to stay away.

This is my garden.

These are the fruits of my sewing.

Do whatever necessary.

A running deer may lose the fear of man altogether when unsated.

Beware these cloven messengers of the hybrid knowledge.

-They are the keepers of my crypt!

-H-- have you tried, uh, soap on a rope?

-Whoa!

Somebody drove me right off the road there.

Did you see that?

Hey, are you, uh, hurt?

Or just surprised?

I think we better get ya outta harm's way here.

Any nut could come by and then hit ya again.

Yeah, you know, amazingly,

I-- I work for the newspaper, and,

uh, you know, this is just the kinda thing that would make a

really good story.

Stay here.

-Oh, good.

There's some iodine.

And some sterile gauze.

Oh, says "non-sterile."

Well, that'll just have to do.

A dime, so I can call the hospital or..

police, maybe.

Okay.

I'm really sorry.

Let me see what I can do here.

A little dab of this, right...

that should be good.

-Oh!

Earl, how can I preserve my roses through

a harsh winter?

Every spring, I face blight and death as my delicate garden

grows barren.

-You cut them to the ground,

or persuade them over into a prone position,

and this way, they can lay dormant for the winter and--

-That'll be all, uh, that'll be it, Earl.

-Um... -Thanks.

-Okay, yes. -Thanks a lot.

-I'm sorry, I-- I must have gotten lost.

-Hey, no harm-- no harm done, Earl.

Now let's get back to some, uh, easy listlessness.

Authorities remain clueless in nun's macabre vanishing.

Yes.

-Now, Victor, could you try to find me a nun picture for this

nun story?

-Uh, yes-- yes, Mr. Shampling.

-Call me Peabody.

-Uh, uh, I'd rather keep things formal,

thank you.

Excuse my old-fashioned respect.

I guess that respect has...

grown a little out of fashion in the present.

Hello, Mr. Gray.

How are you?

-I am...

stupefied.

-I w-- I wouldn't say that.

-No need, no need.

The word is spoken.

Stupefied.

-And all I have as a combatant is a scalding liquid,

a pastry, and my mortal wits.

-If we could get the kids in here,

if we-- okay.

All right!

Now, every newspaper must be assembled from disparate parts.

-This is our paste up room, and let me introduce Gentian Violet!

Layout genius.

Genny, why don't you tell us a bit about the paste up?

-Oh, of course..

Salvador.

Here in paste up these...

disparate parts are rallied together.

-And look, I can see someone working now.

Victor here creates front page layouts for sports and

atrocities.

What's this thing?

It looks like a salt shaker.

-One must stay alert, uh, in this business.

Victor is using a coffee cup to stay alert.

This is our image file.

If we're missing a desired picture,

we find a replacement--

-In the image file.

-Somebody beat you up?

-Um...

-Shut up!

-Uh, image file, um...

-Thank you, Miss Violet.

-When is this gonna be over?

-And now, if we could all gather.

Uh, you two in the back especially, please.

Thank you.

Let's leave the safe realm of the fabricators and venture to

the printing mill, where these pasted together facades become

indelible historical documents.

That whir you hear through our facility...

Mind your hands.

It goes at 148 pounds per square inch.

I don't think a curious finger stands a chance!

27 quarts of ink a day run through these presses...

-Let's do some backsliding, friends.

It's 1967.

Where were you when this song first melted your heart?

Let's go back...

way back, back into time, "Back Into Time" by Little

Troglodytes.

-Aren't they lovely?

That was Mother Beatrice with her singing angels.

I'm Earl Gray, and I'm happy to see so few empty seats out

there.

For our annual Saint Pamphilus variety show.

And next up, we will hear from Larry Blue,

doing a solo chorale.

And now with his Irish eyes smiling,

here's Larry Blue!

♪Oh, Danny boy♪

♪The pipes, the pipes are calling♪

♪From glen to glen and down the mountain path♪

♪The summer's gone, and all the leaves are falling♪

♪And it is you, tis you who must go♪

♪And I must mind♪

♪But come ye back when all the summer's in the meadow♪

♪Oh when the hills and valls are hushed with snow♪

♪And I'll be here--♪

♪In sunshine or in shadow♪

♪Oh, Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so♪

♪foreboding orchestral music♪

Wait!

Wait!

-Stop it.

Just stop it!

Let me tie this.

-You're trying to hang me.

Help me!

-Do you want to eat with us?

If you do, stop it now.

-Now!

-Okay.

-Delicious pork chops, Miss Violet.

-Thank you, young man.

-Especially like the spicing that you got on there.

-I didn't make them.

I'm retarded.

-It's shake and bake.

But when it gets to the part where most people bake,

I opt for frying.

-Well, okay, that's your trick.

-Are you singing tonight?

-We're planning to.

-That's nice.

You're going to sing so beautiful tonight.

Some of the people will be crying in their napkins.

-The brokenhearted ones, staring down at their soaking crotches.

-Mom, no body talk.

-I bet you've had that happen--

-No, don't.

-Genny keeps her little muffin clean with a vinegar wash.

-Okay, Mom.

That's enough.

Now you're gonna have to eat in your room.

-Oh, okay.

I wonder what's on.

-There you go.

-Are you putting on a record?

-These are good beats.

-Where did the days go?

My goodness.

Genny, he's looking straight through your clothes to your

naked torso.

-If I say anything, it'll just aggravate the situation.

Let's just try to..

tune it out.

-Okay, sure.

-He's sniffing around for an opening.

An opening of your legs.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I-- I'm sorry.

I'll.. stop talking.

I should give you a chance to talk.

I'm always talking about myself.

I just want you to tell Victor what feels good.

Here's a tip, let him take off your underpants.

It drives him nuts.

Genny!

Could you bring me a cupcake, sweetie?

-Let's hear it for The Shillelaghs.

Uh, our next act is..

let-- let me see, The Langerhans!

Mixing homespun originals with Celtic standards.

So as soon as they're ready--

-Uh, and now..

The Island of Langerhans.

Let's give 'em a hand!

-Well that went fairly well.

-Yeah, fairly well.

I mean, not great...

not im-- impress an agent great.

You know, I mean hotshots from Cleveland and Pittsburgh come

around these little towns and look-- look for new talent.

I mean, I don't think that our sound's there yet.

-Unless someone's looking for a raw sound.

-Yeah, that's true.

I mean, that-- that could be exactly what someone's looking

for.

I mean, we might want to, um--

-Push-- we could push the raw aspect.

-Yeah.

-I mean, we're not trying to hide behind slickness.

-I-- I have to go to the lavatory.

-Thank you, Terry.

It's good to be back.

And welcome to Gardener's Corners.

I'm your host, Earl Gray.

And I hope you will not be my parasite.

-Gardener's Corners is brought to you today by Heimlich

extruded intestinal casing products.

Whether emulated or boiled, Heimlich's wieners,

brauts, and breakfast links offer a distinctive lingering

flavor with every delicious masticated segment.

Ask for them at Mother Hubbard's grocery trains,

or at your local swine mongers.

Now, let's get to the phones.

Hello.

Are you there?

You-- You've reached Gardener's Corners.

This is Earl.

Hi, Earl.

I wonder if bonfires are still legal in this county.

And is ashes good fertilizer?

-W-- Well I believe that for municipal reasons,

the fire marshal's office forbids the use of blatant

recreational blazes in the yard.

What's a rac-- onational blaze?

-A recreational blaze, as opposed to a crematory or

culinary inferno.

These, uh, exist primarily for social amusement.

These fires tend to be unruly and frequented by lowly types,

loafers, vagrants, and gypsies...

gypsies, tramps, and thieves around a blazing oil drum do

sit, the flame in their hearts as hot as the crackling embers

at their feet.

-These are the partakers of lusts,

burning sabbath, as from lip to lip a jug of distilled spirits

is raised in a gesture of transubstantiation!

-Is this a vegetable or a personal matter?

Both, Earl.

Mm-hm.

-Ah, yes, I-- an amalgam of refuse.

Flowers, letters I suspect.

I've hidden timid refuse fires behind my house at odd hours.

The-- in the dead of night, a smoldering,

nonaggressive flame can burn unnoticed 'til dawn.

And no, I don't suggest using such ashes as fertilizer.

These bitter urns of charred memories soak into the soil and

leave a blackened taste on the lips,

especially with leafy greens and tubers.

-Heed me.

Oh, I will, Mr. Gray.

Mm-hm.

-Hello.

H-- Hello, officer.

Uh, h-- how are you this evening?

-Better than you, my friend.

-Point well taken.

Uh, so-- so, how can I help you this evening?

-Can I see your license, please?

Thank you, sir.

Victor!

Lyd-- Lydia!

Victor!

Oh, God!

Victor!

Lydia!

If you kids are hurt I'm gonna kill myself!

If you're dead I'm gonna kill myself!

Ow!

Oh God!

Holy mother of God!

-I'm gonna have to ask you to step out of your vehicle,

sir.

-Uh, oh.

Okay.

Uh, alright.

-Is-- is-- is there some sort of problem?

-Are you aware that you're driving a stolen vehicle?

-Wh-- wh-- n-- n-- no, my-- my father gave me this--

-Uh, would you please put your hands on the vehicle and spread

your legs apart?

-Am I being arrested?

-Dispatcher told us that she has this truck on her stolen vehicle

list.

-Uh, oh, oh, you know-- you know why

that is, I, um, my-- my father, Larry,

he g-- he gave me the truck, um, when he died,

but my my mother,

she doesn't know this.

And she goes, she reports it stolen.

And I never really cleared it up.

Um, '56 Ford.

It's a, uh, you can see, it's got the original cushions.

-Maybe you can try to clear that up at the station,

'cause you're gonna have to come with me.

-But why?

I can't believe...

-Because you're very drunk.

-Uh, uh, uh, officer, look,

I may be drunk, but I-- I am not "very drunk."

I mean, I've seen a lot of people,

including my-- my father, Larry, m-- much drunker than I am right

now.

Oh!

And all I wanted was just a little treat!

Just a little-- just, oh God, just a little drink!

Just...

And sometimes we're driving up the

drive in the summer, and the-- the ground is soaking with dead

frogs.

Or-- or six or seven deer at night.

-Oh, wow.

-Well, I'd-- I'd better check my tires.

-Yeah, forget about it.

F-- forget about it in the winter.

The-- people are found frozen in their driveways,

their faces in a-- in a petrified state of terror.

-All right then, uh, let me begin,

uh, by saying that we're very grateful that you have

volunteered for our families in crisis program.

-Oh, it's my pleasure.

-Oh, we're-- we're happy to.

-And I would like to tell you a bit about the family

you'll be helping.

Uh, the Blues, a local family that lives--

-The Blues?

-Yeah.

-The Blues?

You mean the Blues up the road?

-Oh, yeah.

Yes.

-Oh, well I-- well I'll be.

Imagine that.

-Yes, they-- they do live nearby.

Uh, do you-- do you know them?

-Uh...

-I mean-- I mean personally, do you have any interactions with

them?

-Uh, not really.

Um, well, we know-- we know who they are,

um, the family in the trailer.

-We know them to say hello.

The father sings at, uh, some parish functions.

-I-- I-- I'd always thought something just wasn't right.

-Sounds just a casual acquaintance.

-But you-- you don't know them personally?

-Well, not personally.

-Okay, uh, let me tell you about the children.

Uh, you will be caring for a little boy,

age two, and a little girl, age six.

-Uh-huh.

-Uh, their names are Lydia and Victor.

And we've been working with the family for a number of years

now.

-Oh, oh, the-- the poor dears.

-Mama.

-Um, there's nothing, uh, w-- wrong with them,

uh, mentally?

Um, because I'm-- I'm not sure if I'd be comfortable with--

-Yes, uh--

-Oh, oh, oh, no, no.

They're actually surprisingly balanced,

um, considering their situation.

-Oh.

-The only problem area might be with hygiene habits.

-Gardner's Corners is partially supported by prayers

of the sisters of the Holy Order of the Evacuated Sepulcher,

housed in the Holy Angels compound.

Holy Angels is more than just a nunnery.

It's three services in one.

It's a-- it's a first class house of worship,

an historic provinciate for developing nuns,

and an insane asylum.

For Sunday worship at seven and nine,

commitment of the senile or schizophrenic,

or for a group chapel tour.

Tell them Earl sent you, for no apparent reason.

Now, Mother Beatrice Elastica.

-The dreams of a young girl are often adorned

with ballet shoes and sequined gowns.

But there was a time when a dark shroud and a starched bodice

were the costume choices while playing dress up.

Saint Clair, Saint Teresa, or Saint Catherine Laboure were

the names on the lips of dreaming girls.

That time has now returned, and Holy Angels is answering the

call.

The Holy Order of the Evacuated Sepulcher is now accepting

novitiates to become the nuns of the future.

Come up to Holy Angels and see if monastic life is your next

career move.

Unknown women preferred.

This is Mother Beatrice Elastica bidding you grace.

-Beautiful.

-And...

-Bitter cold conditions gripped much of the

lower 50 states this weekend, bringing ice and frozen bodies

all about.

People walked around, some weeping at opportunities

squandered.

And cold vixens guarded their little foxy pups,

for fear of seeming vulnerable.

-Whatever that's supposed to mean.

I-- you're right. That's terrible.

You're right.

-Victor. -Yeah?

-You've put me in a very awkward position.

-Well-- Well, journalism can be an awkward business.

-Yes it can.

Yes it can, especially when I have to contend with this.

This is from Earl's column.

Okay, let's see now, Earl's article deals with bushes as a

privacy blind.

-Mm-hm.

-And, uh, this is, I understand,

your photo selection.

-Ah yes, that's just-- just from this week,

I think.

I-- I just retrieved that from the image file.

Compositionally--

-This is a crime photo.

-Mm-hm.

-And a well-known one.

This is the dead of Calvin Reams.

-Yes, I--

-This picture is about murder and death.

-And-- and isn't--

-And it is a gross error on your part.

-And isn't-- isn't death, Mr. Shampling,

isn't death the-- the ultimate privacy blind?

-Oh, Victor...

-I mean, no m-- no matter how public, it--

-Victor... -It's a private moment.

It is tricky, isn't it. I mean, perhaps--

-You have to be more responsible.

-I c-- it w-- this was a risky j-- judgment call,

on my part.

And, um, I shall..

I mean, I think we've reached a-- an understanding,

my friend.

Um, and I-- I don't use that word,

"friend," lightly.

-Well now, Victor, that's not the issue.

-I-- I reserve such phrases sparingly,

Mr. Shampling.

-Genny?

Let's see, make those prospects for the stained glass.

And, um, get some nuns feeding chickens or singing.

-Morning, Genny.

How are you?

-Well, I feel a little like Quasimodo.

-Really?

What's-- why is that?

-Because I think I got a hunch, Vic.

That's why, a big bump someone's trying to cover over with a bad

patch job.

-Oh, the donuts are all gone again.

-Here, take these.

Hope you like 'em hard boiled.

-Thanks.

-I gotta go on an egg hunt anyway.

Goin' up to Holy Angels, lookin' for some bad ones.

-Oh yeah?

I have to-- I have to go to license--

-No, they like their nuns over easy,

but it looks like a couple came out scrambled.

-You're a fine shot.

-Yes, an odd gift.

-My name's Gentian Violet.

I'm from the paper, paste up primarily.

My employee ID.

-Hm, very nice.

-I'm here in search of Mother Superior,

Beatrice Elastica.

-Hello, could I speak with someone in the

offices of motor v-- vehicles?

Yes, is this-- is this the office of-- of motor vehicles?

Yeah, um, yeah, um,

well-- well here's my problem, I'm-- I'm a driver of a-- of a

truck that was given to me as a gift,

um, from my father, um, who is deceased.

And I'd like to transfer, uh, the title to-- to my actual

name.

Mm-hm, yes.

Well see, I-- he was formerly,

um, a missing person, so I'm not sure if there's an actual,

uh, death certificate per se.

Well does-- doesn't he then become-- become presumed dead?

-So, Miss Violet, is photography your hobby?

-Mrs Superior, though photojournalism is a craft,

I'd hardly call it a hobby.

-I only meant that it's not your primary position at the paper.

It's not where your employers vest their trust.

-Well, they've asked me to do this today,

and I feel I'm right for the challenge.

-Well, Miss Violet, I'm only saying that if things don't work

out with your photo career, that the modern nun leads an exciting

life.

-Well I'll definitely keep that in mind.

-Knuckle of Saint Sylvia the Latter.

For a shine you can depend on, you can count on coagulant

linoleum tiles.

-Yeah, I hadn't really noticed them,

but thanks for pointing that out.

-It's an arrangement with companies involved in our

restoration project.

We reiterate a slogan when we give tours of the chapel.

-It's very honest of you to actually do that.

-Yes.

-Just one more thing, would you mind if I took some pictures in

the sanitarium?

-I'm sorry, Miss Violet, but the sanitarium is for patients,

family, and staff.

Why search out the frailty of people when here you have the

grace of God.

-That's a..

valid point.

Thank you for the tour.

-The pleasure, I assure you, was mine.

-Well see, I-- he was formerly a-- a missing

person, so I'm not sure if there's an actual,

uh, death certificate, per se.

B-- but would he then be considered,

uh, common law dead?

Okay, I'll-- I'll get this.

This is a county coroner?

Okay, well thank you-- thank you very much.

Somebody hit him...

"Has a stab,"

"no film."..

"I drew this picture because I didn't have film...

I used to be an artist when I was young,

so I drew this.

It's pretty good."

How cheap are these?

-St-- stay-- stay out there for a little bit.

I, um, I just wanted to-- I know there's some photographs of-- of

my dad.

And they're in, uh, there's a box that's called "1000

soldiers," I remember.

It's a green pasteboard box.

Can't seem to find it.

Perfectly good typewriter.

Can you believe that?

What kind of luck--

-Gardener's Corners is brought to you today by United

Manacle and Strap, providing gentle bondage products for

domestic and institutional human restraint leads.

Whether it's our padded shackles,

muzzles, or straight jerseys, you can count on United to

prevent injury or escape of those in your care.

-Hello, fellow patriots.

Hello out there, fellow patriots.

Welcome, brethren, sisteren.

Well, I hope you enjoy it.

I-- I hope you enjoy it.

I hope you enjoy it.

-And now the strange and mysterious quartet,

The Hooded Crooner and his Hooded Croonerettes.

-Yep.

Yes.

Nothin' to see here, bud.

Sucker punch.

Sucker punch.

-Hello?

Y-- yes, uh, I'd like to report a disturbance.

Yes, if you-- if you could send a car around to,

uh...

No, no, just-- just doing my duty as a citizen.

Thank you.

Yeah.

-Get the hell off my property!

-Sir!

Sir, please! Put the pitchfork down, sir!

-Sir, put it down.

-You get away!

You get away now! This is private property!

-Put the weapon down!

-You get away from my family!

-Relax!

-We do not want to hurt you!

-Nobody's going to get hurt.

-Nobody is going to hurt your family!

-Sir, just put it down.

-No!

Okay, I give up!

I give up! I'm sorry!

I won't do it anymore.

I won't drink anymore!

Where did you people come from?!

-Where, indeed.

Hello, this is Gardener's Corners.

This is Earl.

-Hi, Earl.

My name is Pussy Galore.

-Hello, Pussy.

-I was wondering if you're single,

because-- and I think you have a really sexy voice.

-Well, thank you, Miss Galore.

I-- I do fancy myself a romantic baritone,

but--

-Oh, I want you to make love to me!

-I-- I don't want you.

To be true, I just want to make love to you.

No need to panic, listeners, a childish prank.

Perhaps, one might say, a rite of passage.

Nervous geeks on the cusp of puberty,

huddled around you on the basement extension.

Listening in, vicariously leeching off your tiny crime.

A chuckle, a gasp.

Even in the garden, you might commit yourself to some tiny

crime.

I, as inquisitor, am sure in the heat of passion,

have, uh, drawn and quartered a grasshopper,

or hurled a malicious stone towards a ball molesting

squirrel.

I count these among my tiny trespasses.

Don't you?

For they pale in the eye of my crimes against humanity.

And yes, I am indeed single, Miss Galore,

or find myself now alone.

For I was married in a former life,

but I was not content in my garden.

I wished for forbidden fruit.

But the snake in my garden wriggled not in the grass,

but up my pant leg.

I've been bitten.

Suck the poison...out!

Out! Out of here!

My feeling is, if you see a clipping in a

conservatory, by all means, pocket it.

Should you leave it there to shrivel and die,

unappreciated by its apathetic caretaker,

or if it strikes your head as you walk by,

take out your shares.

A rare tropical blossom swings easily in your reach,

bending over you, tying a shoe, exposing its laced cleavage,

perhaps brushing her hair against your face.

You smiled as you pass by on your way out,

leaving so soon.

Ah, but the transplant, that is where the difficulty lies.

How to nourish?

Many use a rooting hormone.

But I consider this cheating.

Ironic that a liar and a cheat feels above cheating

with root growth.

What do you think?

Hello, caller?

Are you still with me?

-How was work, Genny?

Genny, how was work?

-Oh, pretty good.

It looks like they're gonna use some of my pictures for an

article on Holy Angels.

-I bet you'd like to see me up there.

-Do you want toast or potato chips?

-Chips, please.

Having me up there would make life a little easier for you,

wouldn't it?

What do you think?

Wouldn't it?

-In some ways, yes.

-Hm.

Or if I could die of cancer, or kill myself.

-Let's not talk about that, all right?

-Okay, I'll change the subject.

Genny, are you having your period?

Because I found some Cotexes in our garbage,

and they had blood on them, and I thought it might be yours.

So I guess I won't be having any granddaughters for now.

I mean, this month at least.

-I'll change the subject.

Hm.

Genny, did you just remember something sad?

-See-- see if you can open your mouth a little wider.

That's it.

There, yeah.

See-- See if you-- that's it.

-Good.

Have another bite.

Good.

Good.

Good.

-Oh, yeah.

Okay, you-- you've had enough.

Well, let's get some sleep then.

Were you looking for someone in particular,

in your walks in the woods?

-There is an elusive and nimble buck I have been

tracking, uneven lope, asymmetric rack,

all signs of instability.

At times, he walks erect.

He stands by the fence and spies on the children.

Not of the angels, but of the devil,

for I have heard his cry.

And it is not a deer's bray, but a drunkard's wail.

Okay, let's calm down.

Just answer our questions, Mr. Gray.

I think of hunting like gardening,

as an art, I think it can be of indication,

an eye for an eye.

-And do you have enemies in the woods?

-Yes.

As a gardener, many woodland creatures are my enemy,

the rabbit, the squirrel, the field mouse,

and of course, the white tailed deer.

-And what if you should encounter one of your

enemies?

-I will strike a deadly blow!

And if I falter, I will be merciful.

I will pursue the wounded until I execute my task.

I am the lethal destroying Angel of Death.

-Okay.

That should be better.

-Look, that guy's got no eyes!

-Yeah, look at how sharp his jaws are!

-He could kill a deer!

-This could kill something!

-Look at that thing!

-Before the days of the automobile and the television,

these hills we call home were inhabited by the Pawkegheny

Indians, a tribe of hunters and gatherers who migrated to this

part of Appalachia, where they found ample game and natural

shelter in the caves and outcroppings of the Pawkegheny

Valley.

Who can tell me what kind of a person this is?

-A clown?

-What?

-A clown!

-No, not a clown.

-Witch doctor.

-What?

-Witch doctor!

-And what is another word for witch doctor?

-A boogeyman!

-Zombie!

-A mummy!

-A medicine man!

-What?

What?

-The bookkeeper!

-Close enough.

Someone said medicine man.

-The word I'm looking for is a shaman.

He is the man in the tribe who communicates with the spirit

world.

-How was I supposed to know that?

-And this shaman--

-What's that?

---was preserved in this attitude--

-What's a shaman?

---in a crevice, at the base of Mount Carmel.

About him, you can see his...

wares and some bowls and...

baskets, and here we can see there are some other Indians

sneaking up.

-Do you ever think about marriage?

-I d-- I do think about marriage, of course.

-Hm.

-But I'm not sure about children at my age,

really.

-Yeah.

-And I do enjoy certain aspects of the bachelorette lifestyle.

-Hm.

-The independence, meeting different people,

the night life.

-Oh-- I'm-- I'm-- I know what you

mean.

I-- I enjoy the mystery of meeting others as well,

Genny.

And I-- I know I'm pretty ugly.

-Oh, no!

-No, it-- it's not a crime.

I ad-- I admit it, and-- and you know,

Genny?

You're pretty ugly too.

-And I know that, and-- I mean, you know that.

I mean, who-- who are we kidding?

-I-- I mean, nobody's looking at-- at our table.

And that's just what-- that's what I like about you.

I mean, you're my baby.

And most-- most people wouldn't even dream of being-- being

interested in you or, uh, getting to know you,

and--

-I've never been so insulted!

In months!

-What?

Genny!

What-- What hap-- Jesus mother of Christ!

Ex-- Excuse my language, everybody.

I mean, she's just-- she flipped out on me!

She ran-- God, you ever see that?

-Now, this is a delightful tonic,

as well as a curious soup.

It will help with scab formation.

-Could I eat over?

-I have to watch Mom tonight.

It probably wouldn't be a good idea.

Oh, okay.

♪Lydia, oh Lydia, the encyclopedia♪

♪Lydia, the tattooed lady♪

♪She has eyes folks adore so, and a torso even moreso♪

♪Lydia, the queen of tattoos♪

♪Lydia, oh Lydia, oh have you seen Lydia?♪

♪Lydia the tattooed lady♪

"They weren't expecting the Spanish

Inquisition.

Slashing with so much spiritual fervor,

sinewy novices crumbled under the slap shots of seasoned holy

angel spinsters.

Slap, score!

Right through the inopportunely parted white legs of

resurrection goalie, Sister Mary Dumont."

-In the bustle of the day, there is sometimes,

I will admit, snap judgments made by my colleagues and I.

-Mm-hm.

I understand that.

-Five days, many pages, there's going to be,

uh, casualties.

-Casualties?

-Intellectual casualties, slips of the tongue.

-And what about this?

"No guffaws for this sloppily knitted community."

-It's a reference to "closely knit."

-Mm-hm.

And, uh, under the photo, "Victor Blue is stunned by news

of strangers' deaths."

-It's a hook.

-A hook?

-A hook, a way to get you into the story.

-Okay, look.

I know that you're doing the best you can,

and I-- I'm-- I'm-- I'm all the way with you.

The only thing I'm asking is that you just stop with the

weird type.

All right?

-Uh, yes sir.

-And now for something a little different.

Genny will do her own dance interpretation of "Where Are the

Flowers?"

With a costume of her own design.

♪I've seen pictures of

pussies, and I'd love to have seen one♪

♪Where are the flowers?♪

♪I've seen pictures of flowers♪

♪And I'd love to have seen one♪

Um, yes, hello, um, this is Victor Blue.

Um, I spoke to, uh, you or one of your associates earlier in

respects to, um, transferring the title of my car.

Oh, well that-- that's inter-- that's-- that's kind of ironic.

Our, um, she's actually, um, incapacitated.

Well is there some way that, um, I could,

um, get-- get a signature?

If-- um, an absentia transfer of title?

Is that the-- the form I would be using?

Okay, um...

See, and though a photograph was not a possibility,

as you can see, I have, um, used the well established technique

of using an artist's rendering, um,

instead of an actual photograph to represent the,

uh, missing individual.

Mm-hm.

Yes, yes, I was-- I was told that this would act as a legal,

uh, death certificate.

-Thank you, Terry.

Your warmth is excessive.

Hello everyone, this is Gardener's Corners,

and I'm Earl Gray, your host.

Gardener's Corners is made possible this evening by

disingenuine contributions from Skin Scapes Adult Arcade,

bringing you the finest in latex novelties and fine art films.

This week's double feature is Cha Cha Morales in 'Hot Cross

Buns' and 'Lickity Split.'

Now before you all gasp at my sponsors,

I would like to say that I have seen some fine cinema at Skin

Scapes.

As a matter of fact, I caught the 10 o'clock show of 'Lickity

Split,' and I found it to be a delightful romp with an

unexpected twist at the end that will leave you stroking your

chin.

And Cha Cha Morales, despite a weak supporting cast was,

as usual, fantastic.

I'm always amazed at how she can milk an awful script into a

purring kitten.

So I say, judge not, lest you be judged.

And now, let's take some calls.

-Hey, right up here.

-A little something for the man in the house.

Have you seen this one?

-Uh, no sir.

-Looks-- looks rather risque.

I savor the busty films.

They tend to smack of witty burlesque,

uh, spiced with a touch of farce.

-Yeah, right.

-Hey, Mister Pufferball.

-Oh well, that's good.

So she's more concerned with how warm she is.

-She puts the blanket on us.

-Oh, I see.

And you sleep in your own rooms?

-Sometimes we sleep--

-Sometimes we sleep in the middle room.

-The middle room.

Why would you sleep in the middle room?

-If it's cold.

How does your mom and dad feel about you being cold?

Does she ever light the oven to make the trailer warmer?

-No, she'd never do that.

She's not stupid.

-I-- don't worry, Lydia.

I'm just trying to get to know you two,

that's all.

Now, I have to ask you a question.

And I need you to be very honest about it.

Can you do that?

And you know the difference between the real truth and a

made up story, right?

-In a made up story, you can have talking animals and

magic, that kind of stuff.

-That's not what he means.

-Well, that's an interesting way of putting it,

Victor.

Yeah, I guess it can.

No, what I want to ask you is about your private parts.

We've noticed that sometimes you,

Victor, itch yourself or touch yourself downstairs.

What I want to know is whether your mommy or daddy ever do

funny things in your private places.

-I don't think I understand the question.

-Let's put it this way.

Does your mommy ever touch you with her hands or her mouth

in...

the place you go to the bathroom?

-He's trying to make you talk about,

like--

-Oh, no.

No.

-And next we will have Shenandoah,

with Lydia Blue, soloist.

-♪Oh Shenandoah, I long to hear you♪

♪Away, your rolling river♪

♪Oh Shenandoah, I long to hear you♪

♪Away, I'm bound away♪

♪Across the wide Missouri♪

♪A white man loved an Indian maiden♪

♪Away, your rolling river♪

♪With notions, his canoe was laden♪

♪Away, we're bound away♪

-Oh, oh no, Victor.

Lydia?

♪Across the wide Missouri♪

-Lydia?

♪Oh Shenandoah, I love your daughter♪

♪Away, your rolling river♪

♪For her, I'd cross this raging river♪

♪Away, we're bound away♪

♪Across the wide Missouri♪

♪Farewell, my dear. I'm bound to leave you♪

♪Away, your rolling river♪

♪Oh Shenandoah, I'll long to see you♪

♪Away, we're bound away♪

♪Across the wide Missouri♪

-I think I'll just do this.

Call up...

and...

set up a visitation.

You're probably gonna be so glad to see my face.

-Hello?

-Oh, um, hello.

Uh, yes, can I speak to, um, I'm interested in the subject of--

of visitations.

-Do you mean you're interested in a chapel tour?

-Uh, perhap-- perhaps initially, yes.

Uh, but not, uh, fundamentally.

And-- and-- and to whom am I speaking?

-This is the Mother Superior, and I'm the one who sets up

tours.

-Are-- are-- are you, um,

as well the-- the person to whom I would contact to,

uh, visit, a m-- mental patient?

-Excuse me?

-Yes, uh, my name is Victor Blue.

Uh, perhaps you've read columns I've typeset.

-Uh, y-- you see, my mother is a resident in the-- the Holy

Angels Sanatorium.

-Uh, and I'd-- I'd like to pay her visit.

-What is this individuals name?

-It would be, um, my mother,

Doris Blue.

-Ah.

-And, um, my name also, uh,

the-- the Blue part.

-Ah, I see.

Well I know Doris very well.

I didn't know she had any children.

-Well this is-- this is,

uh, recent.

-And Victor, when was the last time you

visited your mother?

-What-- um, not-- not recently.

-Have you ever visited your mother?

-If-- if-- if only, uh, Mother S-- if only it

were that simple.

But, uh, the fact is, um, I've just recently returned from

living, uh, with my dear-- my dear father in-- in Limburg.

And, uh, b-- before I-- I lay-- be--

before I lay me father down,

he bestoweth on me a-- a small gratuity of,

uh, da-- doubloons.

-Pardon me?

-I-- Irish shillings.

And-- and I-- I said on my father's shallow grave,

um, "I'm goin' across the Atlantic to visit our mum."

So I-- I became a-- a hand on-- on a small shift,

uh, that was leavin' for America.

-Oh, really?

-Aye, aye.

And up, I be bringin' her a box of unreturned letters.

Uh,

-Mr. Blue, I'm sure you realize that your mother is both

mentally and physically frail.

-I-- I--

-And seeing you after all these years would be a terrible shock.

-Or-- Or a terrible delight.

-And how will you explain your absence?

After all these years, do you think you can just casually

visit?

Are you expecting her to recognize you?

-Oh--

-Because she won't.

I have to tell you that I think you are making a terrible

mistake.

-Oh, I-- I-- I understand your apprehension,

your grace, but as I said, I have just arrived from Ireland,

and I have missed her so.

And-- and I-- I need to see her shinin' face again and read her

the box of letters.

-Hmm.

-That I have, that have been-- that have been returned

to me over the years.

-Wait, wait, wait...

-Oh, thank you, blessed Mother,

for letting me see me mother.

I wish Lydia was here as well, but we-- we lost her many years,

uh, back.

She's a highway woman.

-I'm afraid the news of your visit did hit your mother quite

hard.

-Oh.

-She became very violent and had to be restrained.

-Oh.

-I'm afraid you will only be able to speak with her through a

small opening in the door.

She's in room 34.

Just knock and speak through the food opening.

-Okay.

-I will be back in about 10 minutes.

-Okay.

Uh, hi, Mom?

G-- guess who this is.

This is-- this is Vic.

So, uh, so how are you?

Um, I-- I was wondering if you could-- if you could do me a

favor.

-Yes?

-Yeah, uh, do you remember Dad's green truck?

The, uh, the Ford?

Well, I-- I've been driving it, but I guess it's actually still

yours.

-Oh, I see.

-And and I need you to sign a piece

of paper.

It's called, uh, a-- absentia transfer of title.

And then I'll stop being pulled over every other night.

-Do you have a pen?

-Yeah, amazingly,

yes, I do.

This, uh, this'll-- this'll make life a-- a hell of a lot

ea-- easier.

Par-- pardon my French.

Easier for me.

-I'm glad I could help.

-Pass it through it.

Ah.

So-- so how are you?

Are-- are you doing fine?

Are they-- they treating you fair and everything?

-Yes.

I'm very happy.

-Oh, that's good to hear.

Now you hear such-- you hear such horror stories about insane

asylums.

They're probably exaggerations, it sounds like.

Well, I-- I kind of have to get back to work.

Um, but I'll come back another day,

uh, maybe when y-- when you're out of solitary.

Thanks again.

Great to hear-- great to hear everything's-- great to hear

everything's going well.

Bye!

Uh, Mother Superior?

-H-- h-- hello, officer.

H-- how can I help you this evening?

-Have you been drinking, sir?

-Uh, yes, officer, but-- but just-- just socially.

-Why are you driving so slowly?

-Uh, uh, b-- because, um, I-- I'm a bit drunk.

Um, but actually, this time, I-- I am very drunk.

Uh, and so for-- for the safety of other-- other fellow mo--

motorists, I-- I thought I'd put on my hazards,

um, because in a matter of sp-- speaking,

I-- I am a hazard.

-Please step out of the car.

-Oh, c-- could you give me a little bit of assist--

assistance, please?

Goodnight, nobody.

Goodnight.

-Thank you, honey.

You're such a good chef.

-Mom, I'm thinking of maybe moving.

-Moving our whole house?

Or just some suitcases?

-Just moving to a different city,

maybe trying to live somewhere else.

-How would you know how to live somewhere else?

Nobody would know you, and you're not very beautiful.

So no one would go out of their way to find you.

Would you be a waitress?

-I would be at my job at another newspaper.

I can do a lot of clerical jobs, also.

-Are you going to have to leave your boyfriend...

behind?

You'd better have clean underpants in case you're in a

car accident.

When you climb out the burning window of the car,

people can see them too.

The Dukes of Hazzard climbing in the car window.

-Let's try this Shirley Temple.

-Genny, you don't have to leave because I poisoned myself and I

will be dead soon.

-Dammit.

I didn't manacle you because you promised.

Is it a milk this time or an ipecac?

-I don't know.

Maybe you should call your father.

I got the idea just using my imagination.

I was looking up a pussypaw in the Audobon North American Field

Guide and stumbled upon poison mushrooms.

-He's not home.

I'll call the station number.

-I already feel a little lightheaded,

you know, so I wouldn't chat.

I'd just get right to the point.

-Hello.

You-- you've reached Gardener's Corners.

This is Earl.

-Hello, Dad?

-What-- did I not give fee--

-Yeah, I know, but this is a bit of an emergency.

-Mm-hm.

All right.

-Mama's eaten some poison again.

-Oh, dear.

I'm sorry.

What kind?

-A poison mushroom.

-What variety?

-What kind?

Mom, what kind of mushroom?

-Sauteed, with an egg.

-What's it called in the book?

-A destroying angel.

-Destroying angel?

Uh, how long ago was this?

-How long ago did you do this?

-What time is it?

-Wait, I need to see the clock.

It's about quarter after eight.

-Well then about three hours ago.

-Three hours ago, she says,

uh, that's too late for ipecac.

Should I just give her milk?

-I'm sorry, Genny.

I don't know what to tell you.

They call it the destroying angel,

for it is, despite its beauty, a deadly poison.

It enters the bloodstream quickly.

There is no antidote.

I'm sorry.

Give her the milk and lay her down.

Her breath will become shallow as the paralysis spreads to her

diaphragm.

In a few hours, she will join the angels.

Perhaps it might be for the best,

considering-- considering everything.

I'll be there soon.

-I understand.

I'll make her comfortable.

-So what does he say?

Milk?

-Yeah, milk.

Uh, I'll warm it up.

-Yeah, I-- you know, I think I might have to lay down or throw

up.

That'll probably take care of it if I throw up.

Mm, my fingers feel a little buzzy.

H-- hello, Earl?

I was wondering when you should consider a tree dead.

I have an old black walnut.

-Yeah?

-That no longer bares fruit.

Puts out very little foliage.

-Mm-hm, is there any fungus present?

-Yes, high up there's shelf fungus.

-Well, I'm gonna have a splitting headache in the

morning as a punishment.

It's amazing.

You can just pick me up like Genny when she was a baby.

You probably don't remember how I used to pick your sister Genny

up when she'd fall asleep watching Chiller Theater.

I saw you bought Bisquick.

If it's Saturday, will you make biscuits?

-I'm afraid there's, uh, been a bit of an emergency.

Um, you know Ida, my ex wife?

Well, she's been, uh, taken ill, uh,

so I will-- I will have to be gone for,

uh, a few days.

And-- and lower down,

a white, cloud like fungus.

Ah, the beginnings of chocolate landsites.

Oh, is that bad?

Does that mean it's dead?

I'm afraid this tree will fall over and damage my roof.

♪Tree, tree, tree.♪

♪Tree, tree, tree.♪

♪Tree, tree, tree.♪

♪Tree, tree, tree.♪

I had, in my backyard, a Dutch elm riddled with disease,

felled by a moth.

It stood still, wobbly legged, saved by the bell and waiting

for the end.

Finally, last year, it was uprooted during a March tempest.

I heard the deep crack and a dopplered creak.

But only woke momentarily.

Then back to sleep.

Two sleepers on my land now.

In the morning, when I went out to survey the yard,

the sky now opened like a great sheet,

and laying down amongst the flowers,

the giantess.

I go and fetch my chainsaw to cut up the carcass.

I walk by the stump from the storm of '68 and I stop,

for there, growing from one side at a desperate tangent is a new

branch, life growing from the presumed dead.

Which is sadder?

A funeral or a wedding?

Hello.

How is she?

-I think she's sleeping.

-I'm examining the collar.

I was hoping it might be amanita vaginata,

but it is not.

It is amanita virosa.

I'm sorry.

-Would you like some tea?

-Perhaps.

Yes.

♪We stand atop♪

♪At the throne of the hill♪

♪There's a chimney so tall♪

♪But there's no smoke at all♪

♪Coming out of that stack♪

♪And the only sound I hear♪

♪Is the cry of the wind♪

♪As it blows through the town♪

♪Weave and spin, weave and spin♪

-Hello.

♪There's no children at all♪

♪In the narrow twisting streets♪

♪Since the mill has closed down♪

♪It's so quiet I can't sleep♪

♪Now I'm too old to change♪

♪And too young to die♪

♪Wonder what will become♪

♪Of my old man and I♪

♪And the only sound I hear♪

♪Is the cry of the wind♪

♪As it blows through the town♪

♪Weave and spin, weave and spin♪

Ida-- Ida Gray.

Well, I asked that Mr. Coil be here because your

employment is supported through the county empowerment program,

and he is our liaison.

That's the only reason.

-So-- so what you're talking about here is a demotion

to no more than, well, a-- a-- a glorified paper boy.

-I wouldn't say that, Victor.

-Oh, no, Victor.

-We consider our rural customers a very--

-Mr-- Mr. Shampling, I-- I-- I had no inkling,

sir, that my work has been anything less than satisfactory.

-Oh, you know--

-Um, we've met numerous times,

and I-- I've tried to explain--

-Another-- another

thing, I don't know why we need to have a third party here,

uh, Peabody.

-Well, Victor, you know, I'm-- I consider myself more of

a partner than a third party.

Mr. Shampling and I have discussed this,

and we think that this career path is more suitable for..

someone of your...

skill level.

-Uh, and what does-- what do you,

uh, know of me?

-Oh, well, quite a bit, actually.

-Oh, oh do you?

Well that's very interesting, since you're a total stranger,

and--

-Well, come on now, Victor--

-What do-- what do people say?

What do they say?

Don't talk to strangers.

Right?

-Please don't think of us as strangers.

-Victor, I truly feel that this is the best I can offer you and

still do a competent job running the newspaper.

-And you're still part of the team.

-I mean, we all like you very much.

-Yes.

-But--

-But Mr. Shampling, I-- I think I'm a likable guy in many ways.

-Definitely.

-Yes, yes you are.

-Definitely.

-And I just feel that this position will give you more time

to relax.

And also, you'll be outdoors.

-Now wouldn't that be nice?

-Gardener's Corners is brought to you today-- does anybody mind

if I smoke?

-Uh-- -I need a cigarette.

-Should I give him a cigarette?

-I'm really sorry about all this, Victor.

-I-- I-- I feel like I have-- I have put a lot of work into this

paper--

-Oh-- well yes.

-And, over the years--

-Hey, you have, and we appreciate that.

-And now, to find myself, um, um,

uh, delivering papers is just a lit-- a little disappointing.

Okay.

That's understandable.

-And-- and it's-- I don't know that if it's ut-- utilizing,

um, my strengths.

-Okay.

-And that's-- I'm just asking, uh,

that maybe, uh, uh, that you should utilize my strengths.

That's all-- all I'm asking.

And so I will recite a favorite ballad of my

mother's, in remembrance.

♪Oh, all the money that e'er I spent♪

♪Oh I spent it in good company♪

♪And all the harm that e'er I've done♪

♪Alas, it was to none but me♪

♪And all I've done for want of wit♪

♪To memory now, I can't recall♪

♪So hand to me the parting glass♪

♪Farewell and join me with you all♪

-Hello, Sister!

I'm back.

-I'm so sorry for the delay.

You won't believe this, but Ida passed away the other day.

-Genny and I have been very busy with the funeral and all.

So I hope you managed to scrape together enough meals.

Hello!

-Hello.

Oh, there you are, right there in bed.

You look a little peaked.

Let me see.

Oh, bad fever.

Let's see how that leg is healing.

-Mm, that-- that doesn't look very good.

I think I'll get my things.

Daily Suggester!

Paper!

Get your paper!

Paper's here!

Get your paper!

Daily Suggester!

Paper delivery!

Get your paper!

-Place your hands above your head, sir.

All right, sir, just place the parcel on the ground,

please.

-Y-- yes.

-Do not raise the object as if to a god.

-Please, everything is under control.

W-- wait!

Wait!

Don't, don't!

-Do not resist the deputy, thank you.

-Do not move the patient.

She is my patient!

I am her doctor.

-Hello, paperboy.

Paper man.

What's in here?

Here's a picture.

-So, Mr. Gray, during your scuffle with the arresting

officers, you said that you were Sister Lithobin's doctor.

-Yes, I believe I cried that out.

-And who authorized this relationship?

-It was in the heat of the moment that I accepted that

role.

-Are you a doctor?

-Not in the strictest sense, but in a more liberal application,

uh, yes, I am.

I am a horticulturalist.

-Do you understand that you're being charged with kidnapping,

torture, and dismemberment?

-A necessary amputation performed with compassion,

scalded instruments, and only after administering a stupefying

dose of opium.

-Was this taken from a hospital?

-Oh, no!

I-- I grow my own.

-Interesting.

-Uh, amongst things, I mean,

as well as other things.

Uh, uh, comfrey, basil, hart's tongue,

wolf bane.

-Earl?

Why don't you just tell us what happened,

in terms of a statement?

And we can assign you an attorney,

and then we can all go home.

-Home, home, I-- I have no home.

Bela Lugosi.

-We weren't referring to you, buddy.

-No, I suspected not.

Well, will-- will this statement be considered as

evidence?

-Only if you care to make a confession.

-Oddly enough, oddly enough, I think I would care to make a

confession.

Yes.

-Jerry, do you have that mic somewhere?

-Suck the poison...

out!

Out!

Out of here!

Oh my God, this is beautiful.

Do-- do you realize what this is?

This is the Webster ribbon Duovel,

model 1247 with original fabric cord.

Oh, and the Wallen Sec 1500 SS.

-Now just plug this in.

-Can I, uh, start?

-And..there.

As is well documented, I am a giving person.

I lived happily with my wife, Ida,

and my daughter, Gentian, in a beautiful farmhouse.

In the very same house that you found me at yesterday.

In September 1966, for some reason,

we decided that we had love to spare.

And so we volunteered as foster parents in a program called

Families in Crisis.

It wasn't complete generosity.

We had only sired one child due to endometriosis.

And we had wished to have some playmates around.

And yes, more little hands to pull up weeds and thin carrots.

Look on the ground.

Look at the cracks.

Look at the weeds.

They creep through the cracks between the stones,

toads laid, thistle, grasping bouquets of towering lousewort.

-What are you talking about, Mr. Gray?

-This is all relevant.

Just be patient with me here.

Well, on the day that I had learned of our beneficiaries'

identity, I was struck with a pang of guilt,

because they were not strangers, but the Blues,

a family who I myself had reported to the authorities

numerous times for sanitation reasons,

as well as some domestic disturbances I'd observed.

But to be fair to myself, it was not a healthy place for

children.

Both the parents were-- were drunks.

Well, basically, hillbillies,

to be honest.

-Well this is a fine little stroll down memory

lane.

-Yes, uh, memory lane, uh,

around weathered footpaths, pokeweed and stinking Benjamin

greet you.

You know, all it takes is that little leak,

that chink in the armor to cast, uh,

the shadow of a doubt.

Gentleman, though I-- I ramble, all that I say is vital.

-On the day that the children arrived,

Ida and I was sitting in our parlor.

We heard a car approaching.

We gave each other a look.

"Hmm, what are we doing?"

And rose to greet them.

From the walk, we witnessed a strange disembarkment.

The driver stepped out with a clipboard.

I realized it was Mr. Coil, the man who came for tea the other

week.

Then Miss Shiffly, his accomplice.

Then Coil approached to the back door,

opened it, and out came to wobbly legged children.

As they came forward, another passenger remained.

It was Doris, their mother.

Miss Shiffly was talking to her, but she didn't leave the car.

She began to wail as the children came closer.

My daughter, Gentian, who was six at the time,

asked the girl, Lydia, if she would like to play hospital.

Hospital was a slow moving affair,

where dolls of varying sizes were set up on a cardboard box

bed with bandages and splints and squirts of ketchup that had

soaked through the various dressings.

Victor immediately began attending one of the dolls,

and then Lydia joined in, and then Genny.

Together, in determined silence, they tended the wounded and

maimed dolls.

Out of the window I could see Doris Blue's body cowering in

Mr. Coil's car.

The sound of distant crying filled the house,

then faded as they drove away.

The children stayed with us, and their mother,

Doris, would take them home on alternate weekends.

We formed a bit of a social unit,

filling the house with the family sounds that Ida and I had

envisioned.

During the first year the Blue children were with us,

Doris began to stay longer and several times slept on the

couch.

You see, at the time that I found Doris Blue,

she was highly susceptible to delight and the

clandestine love of another man was,

uh, too much to resist.

Don't you think?

Ida could see right through me.

I am a terrible liar.

And our altruistic venture imploded.

See the cracks?

Look at this place, peeling paper,

lathe board, bending floors.

One day...

One day a visit from the welfare department did not go in our

favor.

And the Blue children were given back to Doris and Larry.

My best laid plans...

-The Blues held court for a year or so.

We attempted to maintain some sort of connection.

Our families even managed to muster up a few picnics,

but there was too much atmosphere.

You can't hide these things.

The laughter of a simpleton.

"Take a picture of an adulter photographing his cuckold.

Hold still!"

Sometimes, I-- I would fabricate humanitarian

visits to the trailer.

"Just here to work on the dog's house!"

But Larry grew more lucid, and I less convincing in my charity.

Wipe his nose, then meet downtown at the Cromwell,

while your husband and children chase the sacrament.

"Quick, Doris, to the thicket!"

See us steal away through town, through the forest.

A midnight encounter with another man's wife.

We lay down in a vacant lot, nesting in fallow fields.

Between our legs grow clusters of horehound,

or silky volvarian.

And I, clicking away.

Ph-- photography is kind of my hobby.

I like to chronicle my life.

I never intended them for public viewing.

It's a private collection.

That's me in the foreground.

And-- and Doris on the bed.

I call it "Two Nudes."

This was one I took a couple of years ago after Ida and I

divorced.

It-- it's an older Lydia at McKee's Pool.

I-- I call it "Lydia with Cards."

I-- I thought it was an interesting character study.

-Um, I'm sorry, but I am not sure what this has to do with

us.

-Sorry.

You're-- you're right.

Th-- this has nothing to do with you.

I'm sorry I brought you into this.

-Now Mr. Gray, did you hold this nun,

Sister Mary Lithobin, against her will?

And did harm come to her at your hands?

-Beautifully put.

You are an amazing master of the spoken word.

I held this woman, Doris Blue, against her will.

And harm came to her at the touch of my hands.

-Does this Doris Blue have any bearing on this

case?

-Uh, what ever do you mean?

Sister Mary Lithobin is Doris Blue!

I thought that was understood.

Doris, you see, was committed a few years into our romance to

the Holy Angels Sanitarium.

Larry, Larry would roam the woods in the hide of a deer

until he came upon our fence to get a glimpse of his children at

play.

Victor's body can be seen wandering around in the gusset.

And some say you can still see the ghost of Lydia around the

ruins of that trailer.

I-- I am sorry.

I digress.

Well, after several years in the psycho ward,

Doris was ready for release.

But as many have before her was persuaded by the most Reverend

Mother Beatrice Elastica, to instead join the order as a

novitiate, Sister Mary Lithobin.

I used to see her up there on visitation days after my

divorce, passing as family.

That's how I know these things.

May I use your bathroom?

I might be having diarrhea, and I feel I might soil myself if

I--

-Larry, can you take this nut to the bathroom?

-Exit at the front entrance, please.

-Just between you and I, there are quite a few "ex psychotics"

giving their life to God up there.

A secret society.

-Interesting.

-Yes, very.

But-- but I've said too much.

I'm kind of tattling now.

-Run, run, my friends.

Go, go.

Be free.

Run and find your souls.

Rush, but be careful.

-My tears flow to nurture...

-What the--?

Mr-- Mr. Gray!

He's defenestrating!

-Oh!

-Run and find your souls.

-Hello out there, everybody.

This is your new host, Gentian Violet,

with Gardener's Corners.

I know this will be a bit of an adjustment,

but, uh, I believe I can share my thoughts on gardening issues

fairly well, and I'm hoping you can be patient with my

comparative ignorance.

I do think in some ways, I may be a better listener than my

father was.

And thus this program can become a think tank of sorts,

so let's take our first call.

Oh yes, Gardener's Corners is brought to you this evening by

Pottable Canned Goods, serving institutional cooking needs for

what seems like forever.

Our crockery select lines of soups pass all the requirements

for certified class B food products.

They are lip smacking delicious and perfectly legal.

Comes in meat, and less meat.

-Uh, hello, uh, Earl-- oh,

excuse me, I-- I mean, Miss Violet.

-That's quite all right.

How can I help you this evening?

-Well, I'm calling because I seem to have found a

foundling.

-A foundling?

-Uh, y-- yes, uh, a little fawn,

uh, who's been, uh, nibbling in my yard.

And I'm-- I'm thinking about, uh,

gaining its-- its trust and, um, pursuing it as-- as a pet.

-Deer do not make good pets,

but what you can do is maim the deer with a knife or a club.

-Maim it?

-Yes, first put a hood on,

or a mask, so he doesn't recognize you as the

perpetrator.

-And then come back to the scene after flight,

and be shocked.

You can then nurse the deer back to health.

-And-- and then it-- then it could be a pet.

-No, no, but it will be marked.

And that is where maiming comes in.

Because the foundling will never be quite fast enough to provide

for itself, and if you leave some hay out in the yard,

it will periodically appear.

-B-- but you're saying I-- I shouldn't invite it

inside.

-Mm, no.

It belongs in the-- in the wild.

-I'd-- I'd like to live in the wild,

like him.

Yeah, but I-- I have too much stuff in my house.

And--

-Well, uh, perhaps you should throw-- throw some of

it out.

-Throw the st-- well but no,

but it's all good stuff.

I mean, it's-- I just have to get around to-- to sorting it.

-Well if you-- if you can't bear to throw it out,

take it to the museum.

-If you feel it's of historical value.

You know, that-- that's an excellent idea.

I-- I think I'll-- I'll do that immediately.

I'm a g-- that would be a great display,

I think.

Thank you.

-The pleasure, I assure you,

is mine.

Some lonely day, you might be sitting by yourself,

waiting for a tea kettle, maybe-- maybe years from now,

and-- look.

What's that?

Could it be...?

A figure, coming out of the snow.

Yes, it's your little foundling, now a handsome buck.

-Mother!

-But you can spot him out because of the limp.

You can look out there into the world and say,

"There he is.

There is my little handiwork, wandering around the

countryside."

It lets you feel like you've caused something.

And, uh, let's take another call.

-Oh!

Hello!

I'll just be a moment.

And look!

I'm free.

I was just putting, uh, a bit of wild chive into this can,

which I have fashioned into a hobo saucepan.

And the handle, Indian hemp, also used in the drawstring of

my willow bow.

The arrows, reed shafts, blue jay truing feathers,

and yes!

Authentic Pawkegheny Indian flint arrowheads.

And what have I produced with these weapons?

A lusty gray squirrel, which I have on the spit.

I like to cook them whole, but if you find the head offensive,

it can be removed.

Shame to waste the mandible muscle.

Ah!

My goodness, you terrified me!

I thought I was alone.

-You are.

Could I sit here for a minute?

-Oh, please do.

So what are you doing out here?

You know these woods are crawling with escaped maniacs.

-Don't worry, I'm not violent.

-I-- I'd ask you to join, but to be honest,

uh, there is very little meat on this,

uh, squirrel.

It's primarily, uh, symbolic, really.

-I understand.

-But I-- I do know of a shelter nearby.

-A shelter.

That'd be great, at least for the night.

Could you walk me there?

-It would be my pleasure.

-So Mom, do you want some instant coffee or something?

-Sure, that would be nice.

-I guess I'm bringing you meals on wheels.

I'm already on that.

Thursday is, uh, chicken a la king,

usually.

-That sounds good.

You know, what I would really love is a bath.

A nice, warm bath.

-Okay, that's possible.

-Come on, Lydia, watch your step.

A little surprise, you see.

-I'll have to clear out the tub.

I've-- I've been using Genny's tub lately.

You can take a bath with your leg?

-Oh, yeah.

They gave me a latex stump sock.

Apparently, I can even go swimming.

At the hospital, they said that Earl actually did a very good

job with the amputation.

They were impressed.

The doctor said I should be able to live a perfectly normal life.

-Oh, that's good.

Well I'll move the stuff out of here.

-Okay, Lydia, right this way.

Over here.

-Well, thank you very much for your hospitality.

-Oh yeah, you're quite welcome.

-You look so beautiful tonight, Genny,

sitting there in your brassiere.

-Poor little thing.

-Who would that be?

-Oh! Pufferball!

-Goodnight, everybody.