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: I don't drink meself, it's a sin.
: It went bang-bang-bangety-bang-bang-BANG-BANG!
: [Mrs. Conelly is saying she has her sink clogged
] You don't have a disposal. Mrs. Connelly
: I don't? Alex Rose
: Whew, it's really clogged!
[after getting it out
] Alex Rose
: Whew, all right! Mrs. Connelly
: [Nancy throws up down the disposal
] Looks like you two got some kind of bug. Good thing Officer Dan took me to have a flu shot.
: Tell me about yourselves. What do you do Alan? Alex Rose
: Uh, it's Alex. Nancy Kendricks
: Alex is a writer. Mrs. Connelly
: Oh, a writer. I always thought of that as more of a hobby than a real job. I suppose I'm forgetting about Joyce. Alex Rose
: Joyce. James Joyce. Of course. Wonderful writer. Mrs. Connelly
: He died drunk and penniless.
: I couldn't help noticing that Alex left the house this morning while you stayed home. Nancy Kendricks
: I was downsized from my job. Mrs. Connelly
: Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm sure it's for the best. Let Mr. Rose get out there and bring home the bacon. I always thought it was strange your husband staying home while you were out there providing. Nancy Kendricks
: Well, he's a writer. Mrs. Connelly
: Writer? The man naps more than a newborn pup. What's he writing about? Sheep?
: Mrs. Connelly, let me come right to the point. Alex and I are trying to have a baby. Mrs. Connelly
] I saw. In the living room. Nancy Kendricks
: Right. The thing is that when we do have our baby, we're gonna need the upstairs. Mrs. Connelly
: I don't understand dear. Alex Rose
: We're willing to pay you... something. Mrs. Connelly
: You want me to leave? Alex Rose
: Don't you think you'd be more comfortable with people who are more in your... demographic? Nancy Kendricks
: In sunny Miami Beach! Mrs. Connelly
: I'm Irish. I'd sizzle up like a sausage. Besides, this is my home. Alex Rose
: Home? The Emerald Isle! Back to the old sod! Mrs. Connelly
: Now there's a thought. I haven't been back home for fifty years.
: Mr. Rose, could you sprinkle some salt on the steps. They're terribly icy. Alex Rose
: You better not go outside then.
[walks outside and slips on the steps
: [Mrs. Connelly sees the hitman
] I knew they'd send a brute.
[she shoots him
: [counting grapes slowly
] 23... 24... 25... Alex Rose
] 26... 27... 28... 29... 30! Mrs. Connelly
: [sees blueberries
] Oh! Blueberries! One... two... three... four...