All language subtitles for Consuming Spirits (2012) Christopher Sullivan.eng

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

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gentle bondage products for

domestic and institutional
human restraint leads.

Whether it's our
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muzzles, or straight jerseys,
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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.