Rose Red

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I deliver perfection...|and don't brag about it! :D

What the hell were you thinking,|taking her that way?

- Annie wanted...|- What's this "Annie wanted"?

- Annie can't talk or think.|- She can! If you looked, you'd know.

Please! She's all right.|Can't you just stop it?

What? You know she's all right?|What if the damn dog was rabid?

- It wasn't. Mrs. Stanton told me.|- And you believe her? Just like that?

That woman's an idiot! A careless|idiot. Anyone can say anything, Sissy.

Maybe someday you'll learn that.

I saw the dog tag.|Why do you treat me like a fool?

Stop it, can't you? Both of you.|She'll hear. Do you wanna upset her?

Come on, honey. Give me a break.|You might as well... .

Come on, guys!

Wait up!

I figured you could use something|stronger. I know I could.

Down the hatch, come on.

It's quick, isn't it? What they do.|And it doesn't hurt them?

It's quick, it doesn't hurt.|They just go to sleep.

Come on, drink your drink.

You and I know Buddy never bit anybody|before in his life. It was her.

He sensed something in her.

Annie, please open the door.

Annie, open this door now!

Drink, you'll feel better.

There's something wrong with her.|I don't just mean that she's autistic.

Please open the door!

Turn the music down!|Somebody'll call the damn cops!

There's something about her|that's wrong.

And Buddy sensed it.

Dogs know. Oh, you bet.

Did you hear that?

Music. Someone has it|really cranked out there.

- What the hell...?|- It's an earthquake!

It's not coming from the ground.

Come on! Run! Run!

Come on! Come on!

- Please open the door!|- Now, Annie!

Come on, hurry! Hurry!

- What's happening?|- I don't know!

Annie, let us in! Annie!

Annie, please, open the door!

Kill it, Sissy!|Just what the hell are you doing?

What the hell...?

Sister, look at this.

Sister, I got baby.

Yes, I know.

Annie...

...what have you done?

That concludes this year's course in|the psychology of the unseen world.

I'd like to leave you|with three thoughts if I may.

First, the investigation of psychic|phenomena is an honorable pursuit...

...in spite of|its tattered reputation.

The second is that reality|is not always quantifiable.

Our inability to count, weigh, sort|or photograph some things...

...does not mean those things|are nonexistent.

Third and most important...

...next week's exam will not|be graded on the curve.

Seriously, I thank you all|for your attention...

...and to remind you of what|someone famous once said:

"The truth is out there."|Enjoy your summer.

Professor Reardon, a question, please.

Question.

Your question?

Rumor says you're investigating|Rose Red, the Rimbauer mansion...

...a psychic field trip.|Is that true?

- You are...?|- Kevin Bollinger, class of '03.

I don't recognize you. Is it|because the group is large...

...or is this your first visit|to our happy family?

- I'm a reporter for our newspaper.|- Oh, my sympathies, Mr. Bollinger.

Is it true and if so, do you plan|on using departmental funds...

...or college general funds|to finance your latest spook hunt?

As any regular attendee|of these classes will tell you...

...I am extremely interested in|Rose Red. Talk about it all the time.

Have a picture of it on my office|wall. And one of Ellen Rimbauer.

But as Professor Miller can tell you,|I've filed no request for funds...

...to underwrite|what you term a "spook hunt".

If you feel like asking him|to confirm that, he's up there.

A question, Mr. Bollinger.|Did Professor Miller suggest...

...you stop by my class for your|question instead of my office...

...like a normal reporter?

Never mind. Let's consider|the issue closed, shall we?

- You never answered my question...|- Thank you.

Exam next Tuesday at 2:00.|I'll see you then.

If I embarrassed you,|Professor Reardon, I am sorry.

Don't believe it, Mr. Bollinger.

Carl Miller wound you up. It was|his intention that I be embarrassed.

I am not.

Even if you're not using college funds|for your expedition...

...won't you be using expensive|psychology department equipment?

Haven't you entered into an agreement|with Steven Rimbauer...?

Good afternoon, Mr. Bollinger.

- Hi, Professor Reardon.|- Hello.

- Joyce, we have to discuss this.|- I think not.

You'll have to discuss it|sooner or later.

The department's patience with your|shenanigans has grown quite short.

"Spooks. Somebody call..."

Professor? Can we discuss...?

My office hours are clearly posted.|Can't you read?

Sorry.

- Oh, wait. Miss Spruce, isn't it?|- Cathy Spruce, that's right.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bite.|Office hours are at 2. Try me then?

Yes, Miss Reardon.

Out.

Out.

Far out.

- Waterman residence.|- Mr. Waterman. Joyce Reardon.

Oh, hello, Miss Reardon.|I've been meaning to call, but...

-Joyce, please. |- I've been busy.

I'm finalizing my list of participants|for my Rose Red field trip.

I'd like you in.|Have you thought about it?

Rose Red is a dangerous place|for psychic experiments.

Joyce. As I'm sure you must be aware.

With all due respect,|Rose Red is a dead cell.

I'm sure it is.|If you're not psychic.

I'm sorry you feel that way.|I'll let you go...

...and move on to|the next name on my list.

I doubt there are many.|Not post-cognates of my caliber.

You might be surprised.|Good afternoon.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.|I didn't say no, did I?

-Didn't you? |- No. But 5,000 is a trifle low.

If you offered a bit more,|say 7,500, for instance?

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