The Cider House Rules Page #7

ANGELA:

She's a prostitute, isn't she?

HOMER:

(to Angela)

Did you look in her purse?

LARCH:

(frustrated)

I looked everywhere else!

Angela hands Larch a bottle of brown liquid.

ANGELA:

It's called French Lunar Solution.

Larch wrinkles his nose at the odor.

LARCH:

It's not ergot, it's not pituitary

extract, it's not oil of rue...

ANGELA:

It claims to restore monthly

regularity.

HOMER:

It's obviously an aborticide.

LARCH:

Obviously.

Larch wets his finger with the stuff, then touches it to his

tongue.

LARCH:

(spits)

Christ, it's oil of tansy!

HOMER:

I don't know it.

LARCH:

If you take enough of it, your

intestines lose their ability to

absorb Vitamin C.

HOMER:

In other words, scurvy.

LARCH:

Good boy. Good job. And you call

yourself "not a doctor"!

(to Angela)

Keep an eye on her--she's in trouble.

As Homer turns to leave, Larch stops him; he points to the

basin.

LARCH:

Take care of that, will you?

Homer stops, annoyed; he picks up the basin and empties the

contents into a white enamel pail.

INT. DINING HALL - AFTERNOON

MISS TITCOMB is teaching math to some distracted boys and

girls in a corner of the dining room. A blackboard on wheels

is a mass of numbers. Homer, passing through the dining room

with the white enamel pail, attracts the attention of BUSTER,

a sixteen-year-old who is picking over a plate of pastries

on a table. Buster immediately goes with Homer.

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