The Road to Wellville

---

Sir, how often should one

exonerate one's bowels?

One should never, ever interrupt

one's desire to defecate.

I have inquired at the Bronx

and London zoos...

as to the daily bowel

evacuation of primates.

It's not once, twice

or three times, sir, but four.

At the end of an average day

their cages are filled...

with a veritable mountain

of natural health.

And sex?

Sex is the sewer drain

of a healthy body, sir.

Any use of the sexual act other than

procreation is a waste of vital energy.

Wasted seeds are wasted lives.

- Eating meat?

- He that killeth the ox...

is as if he slew a man.

Each juicy morsel of meat is alive

and swarming with the same filth...

as found in the carcass

of a dead rat.

A meat eater, sir, is drowning

in a tide of gore. What is a sausage?

A sausage is an indigestible balloon...

of decayed beef

riddled with tuberculosis.

Eat it and die.

For I have seen

many a repentant meat glutton...

his body full of uric acid and remorse,

his soul adrift on a raft...

in an ocean of poisonous slime...

sloshing against the walls

of the body's kitchen.

Smoking?

The liver is the only thing

standing between the smoker and death.

Also certain other things

have to be avoided...

like feather beds...

and romantic novels...

and the touching of one's organs.

Masturbation is the silent killer

of the night...

the vilest sin of self-pollution,

the sin of Onan.

Dr. Kellogg, how did you come

to invent the cornflake?

The cornflake, sir, is just one of 75

of my creations for healthy living...

among them peanut butter

and the electric blanket.

And what about your imitators?

There are 103 other cornflakes...

presently being manufactured

here in Battle Creek.

Sir, corn is the Injun's gift

to the New World...

and the cornflake is my gift

to the entire world.

And what do you think

about your brother?

My younger brother, W.K. Kellogg,

worked for me...

as a low-paid assistant for many years.

Now he's on his own and amassing

fortunes with my cornflake invention.

Unfortunately he has chosen

the family name to promote it.

But the whole world knows

only one Kellogg:

Me, Dr. John Harvey Kellogg...

surgeon, inventor, author and crusader

for biological livin'.

I do not seek monetary reward...

for I am called to a greater glory.

Here, at the Battle Creek Sanitarium...

the spirits soar,

the mind is educated...

and the bowels...

the bowels are born again.

Every woman

And every man

Is at the temple of health

Here at the Battle Creek San

In, out. In, out.

In, out. In, out.

- Did you?

- Nothing.

Oh, my darling Will, I'm so sorry.

Eleanor, if I could only

eat something.

My poor thing.

Not now, Will.

Excuse me, sir. But would you mind

if we joined your table?

I'm afraid the dining car

is rather crowded.

- No, no, no. Not at all. Please.

- Thank you.

- Ossining. Charles Ossining.

- Eleanor Lightbody.

And this is my husband, Will.

- How do you do.

- Allow me to give you my card.

I'm in the breakfast food business.

Really? Which one? Try-a-Bita?

Krinkle? Foodle?

Cero-Fruito? Fush?

Goodness, there's so many, suddenly.

- It's hard to keep up.

- Per-Fo.

Per-Fo? Don't believe

I've heard of that one.

Actually, we haven't started yet.

In fact, I'm on my way to Battle Creek

to start the company.

- How nice.

- You're eating oysters.

Yes. Bluepoints.

They're quite good.

- Would you like to try one?

- No!

- It's his stomach.

- May I take your order, sir, madam?

Oh, yes.

I'll have the cucumber salad

and a glass of water. Thank you.

- And sir?

- Toast. And a glass of water.

- Toast?

- Toast.

And how would you like that, sir?

Toasted. Dry. On its own.

On a plate.

Certainly, sir.

Battle Creek, you say.

Well, what a coincidence.

That's our destination too. We're going

to the sanitarium for the cure.

- I've never been.

- Third time for me. First for Will.

I'm one of those Battle freaks

that you read about.

Well, well, well.

- Scavengers of the sea, you know.

- Excuse me?

Eleanor, not again, please.

Oysters live in muck and filth,

and they feed on it.

You said you wouldn't do this.

Oyster juice

is nothing more than urine.

- Urine?

- Piss, to use the vernacular.

Eleanor, that's enough!

But, Will, the gentleman should know

that he's ingesting slimy piss.

Will you never shut up!

Oh, my God!

Terrible thing, indigestion.

Bye, Mr. Ossining.

Good luck with your new company.

Good-bye.

Bend and stretch.

Twist, twist.

And I will show to you...

that in the sluggish bowels

of the flesh eater...

lays the source of 9/10...

9/10...

of the chronic ills

from which human beings suffer.

Ah, Mr. Dab, you're back.

Good. We can continue with the " Question

Box" with a small demonstration.

- Sir, he's here.

- Later, Poult, later. Sit down.

Ladies and gentlemen, here I have

in front of me a steak...

which my assistant, Mr. Poultney Dab,

assures me...

is the finest porterhouse the nearby

Post Tavern Hotel has to offer.

Also, I have here

a bag of horse excreta.

Oh, yes. Manure.

Dung from our very own stables,

so fresh it is still warm.

Hey, and steaming!

Dr. Linniman, would you be so kind

as to prepare a sample of each...

for the microscopes, please?

Ladies and gentlemen, I will now

provide you with proof...

which I fervently hope

will forever turn you away...

from the disgustin' habit

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes