Kresimir and Benda Sviben.
Eh? Oh yes, of course. Mr. and Mrs.
Sweden. Come right this way. Sorry
to keep you waiting. Now, are we
talking about one or two bedrooms? I
assume we're not talking about
bachelors, eh? Ha, ha. Now, I have
several floor plans all laid out for
you, and all you have to do is take
your choice and we'll trot right on
up there and take a look at 'em...
The three disappear around a corner.
The doorman pulls a Harlequin Nurse Romance out of his jacket
and sits down to continue reading it.
INT. ANNABELLE'S APARTMENT -- MORNING
Hobbes ties a green surgical mask over his mouth and nose,
snaps on rubber gloves.
He turns to Annabelle's corpse on the dining-room table,
legs hanging over the edge, now naked -- the private girls'
school clothes in a heap on the floor. Hobbes takes a scalpel
from the top of the radiator where he has laid out his
surgical instruments. He feels Annabelle's stomach until he
has found what he wants, then cuts her open with one smooth,
confident stroke of the scalpel.
He then quickly douses the inside of her abdomen with some
clear fluid in a squeeze bottle, lights a wooden match, and
drops it into her abdominal cavity. The corpse bursts into