The Bad Seed Page #4

...between his first syllable

and his last syllable...

- ...that he just gave up.

- Ha-ha-ha.

Let's sit over there,

where we can get away from analysis.

At least be comfortable.

Yes, come on, Reggie.

Entertain us with your latest work.

What is your bloodthirsty scribbling

about to disclose now?

I've been making a collection of data

on Mrs. Allison.

News Budget wants an article on her.

You mean that practical nurse

who killed all those people?

- Mm-hm.

- My, yes.

That simply fascinating

paranoidal female.

Listen, Christine.

Oh.

Oh, yes, Mrs. Allison was

a quite definite personality.

She did away with nine patients...

...for the life insurance,

with almost as many different poisons.

But you read about her in the papers,

didn't you, Mrs. Penmark?

Oh. Only hastily, I must say. I'm afraid

I shy away from reading about such things.

Now, that's an interesting psychic block.

Why would Christine

dislike reading about murders?

I don't know. I just have an aversion

to violence of any kind.

I even hate the revolver

Kenneth keeps locked in the house.

Oh. Do you dislike the revolver

more than the poison?

- Ooh, I just hate them both.

- Hmm.

Maybe if you try saying the first thing...

...that comes into your mind,

we can get at the root anxiety.

Just say it,

no matter how silly it seems to you.

Tell your story, Reggie,

and Christine will associate.

- What nonsense.

- What do you mean?

Just speak up, because any idea

that comes into your mind...

...will be an associated idea.

Oh.

Well, they finally caught on

to Mrs. Allison...

...when she poisoned

her 80-year-old father...

...with arsenic in his buttermilk.

- There, say anything quickly.

- But what?

Well, I'll be a middle-aged Mongoloid

from Memphis.

Sweetsie, little lovebird.

Now, you play your little cards right

and instead of a piece of cuttlebone...

...Uncle Emory will get you

a piece of Dr. Kettlebaum.

Emory, shh.

- Go on, Christine, no matter how silly.

- Oh.

What I was thinking

at that very moment was...

...well, that outside of Kenneth, my father

is the dearest man in the whole world.

- Is that silly?

- No, certainly not.

- Isn't your father Richard Bravo?

- Yes, uh-huh.

- There's a man that can write.

- Mm.

Those pieces from the Pacific

during the war.

I'm very proud of him.

The whole country is,

but we've disclosed nothing yet.

- Go on with your story, Reggie.

- I think we can afford a change of subject.

All right, then, there.

What does that suggest to you?

Well, it doesn't suggest anything

because I'm still thinking about my father.

- What about him?

- Oh, well...

No editing, no skipping.

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