The Road to Wellville Page #2

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of eating meat.

Disgustin' not only because

we should never take the lives...

of our fellow creatures, but disgustin'

because, my friends, what lurks...

within that steak...

is as bad or worse than that which

crawls inside that bag of barnyard dung.

Now, may I have a volunteer, please?

Oh, come on, don't be shy.

Miss Muntz, who I see

in the second row here.

Would you be so kind as to come

to the table, Miss Muntz, please?

Watch your step.

- Thank you.

- Watch your step, sir.

Oh, breathe it in, Will.

Can't you just smell it?

We're both going to get well.

I just know it. It's a promise.

What do you see, Miss Muntz?

White specks crawling.

Dr. Linniman, please, please,

do not keep us in suspense.

Please reveal to our good friends here

the identity of the offensive slide.

Sir, Miss Muntz has identified

the porterhouse steak.

Ladies and gentlemen, please come

to the podium and see for yourself.

Oh, it's Dr. Kellogg's "Question Box."

What a pity we missed it.

- How much do I tip?

- Oh, no dear. Not at the San.

Ah, Mr. Birdwhistle...

Look, Will! There's the great man

himself. There's Dr. Kellogg.

Working that program, are we?

Good girl.

Mr. Abernathy. I trust the Protose broth

is helping with the flatulence?

- Very well, Doctor.

- Good. Splendid.

Ah, Mrs. Portois, a glow

in your cheeks I detect.

A veritable beacon

of natural health!

How pleasing.

Hello, Father.

Aren't you going to introduce me?

- Do you have some spare change, miss?

- Excuse us, please.

How dare you, son?

I've told you never to come here.

Come on, Father,

give us a cuddle.

- You stink, sir.

- Don't we all in one way or another?

Your behavior is unconscionable.

- Now, why are you here?

- Money.

You've had all the money

you'll ever get from me, boy.

Dr. Kellogg,

what a pleasure to see you.

- Ah, yes, Mrs...

- Lightbody. Eleanor Lightbody.

I'd like to introduce you

to my husband. This is Will.

Hello, You look like you're on your

last leg. Can you spare some change?

Excuse us, please.

- How much?

- One hundred.

Mr. Wilcox. Take this gentleman

to Mr. Phipps...

and tell him to give him $100.

Then show him the front gate.

Thank you.

Poor wretch. A charity patient.

Ah, now, Mr. Lightbody, is it?

How do you do, sir?

Oh, dear, you are unwell.

Let me see your tongue, please.

Out more.

Wider. More. That...

Oh, yeah.

The tongue is the billboard

to the bowels, Mr. Lightbody...

and this piece of furry flesh between

my fingers shouts S-l-C-K, sick.

You're a sick man, sir. As severe a case

of autointoxication as I've ever seen.

Is there anything you can do? We're both

tremendous believers in your methods.

I am, anyway. But Will is really

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