Mr. Magoo Page #3

The Piranha?

The king of the underworld?

Oh, Morgan,

don't screw this up, hmm?

I'm coming. On my way!

- Hello, sir.

- Um, oh, Stacey!

Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?

I thought that Waldo was going to pick

you up, uh, on the way to the opera.

Well, in my country, the invitee

always picks up the inviter.

I'm sure that Waldo

would not have it any other way.

Unc, I need to borrow a tie.

- Oh, hi, Stacey.

- Hello, Waldo.

Uh, why don't you, uh, show Stacey

the garden before you leave?

It's quiet and, uh, and peaceful...

and, uh, intimate.

l, l, I don't think

she'd want to see the...

I'd love to see more

of your charming home.

All right. It's, uh...

It's right back here.

The smell of rice is in the air.

Love in bloom,

if ever I've seen it before.

Angus? Come on, now.

How many times...

have I told you

to stay out of that closet?

Come on in here, boy.

Help me with my scales.

It's my uncle's work.

Oh.

Never have I seen

such a plant sculpture.

Topiary's kind of a hobby of his.

And he specializes in the abstract.

Oh, no.

That's a bunny rabbit.

Hey, well. What...

What is... What is that?

Oh. So you want to play fetch again?

Is that it?

Ah, well, it's a dog's life.

Here we go.

There it goes.

Your uncle, do you think

he needs glasses?

Oh, and how!

Just don't try and tell him that.

He will not spend the money?

I notice he drives a very old car.

Is his business not healthy?

Oh, no. No.

He just loves that old car.

And if Unc loves something,

he won't let it go.

Angus! Stop terrorizing the squirrels.

- Stupak!

- Where are you?

Right behind you.

Don't turn around.

Just spotted a conspicuous white male.

Dirty clothes,

needs a haircut.

- Sticks out like a sore thumb.

- Where is he? Can't see him. Over.

Right behind you.

Turn around. Don't turn around.

- Walk backwards.

- What?

Walk backwards.

More! More.

More. Stop.

- Where?

- Look to your left.

I am Rolvaag

King of Norway

Aha. Uh, one minute, please.

Uh, uh, may I help you?

Oh, that voice.

The timbre! The tone!

It belongs to the world,

but for the moment it's mine alone.

And I tremble.

Prunella.

- Mr Magoo, I presume?

- Uh, yes.

And, uh, you are, um...

Prunella. Prunella Pagliacci,

reporter for "The Opera News."

Prunella. I knew a young lady once

named Prunella.

Mr Magoo, w-will you consent

to an interview?

Well, why not? Uh, back here,

uh, tonight, after the show.

Oh. No, l, I wouldn't want to share you

with all of your well-wishers.

Oh, well, uh, uh, uh,

a private, uh, rendezvous.

Uh, a walk on the beach

at, uh, Sandy Cove...

uh, shall we say, noon tomorrow?

I'll be there early.

Be wonderful tonight.

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