The Road to Wellville Page #3

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Ah, but you're forgetting one thing.

We have a great product.

- We don't have anything!

- You're wrong, Charles. You're wrong.

We have cartons. Beautiful

Per-Fo cornflake cartons.

And why is it a great product?

Because " it perks up tired blood

and exonerates the bowels."

- Didn't you write that?

- I did write that.

- It's brilliant.

- It's good.

It's an inspiration, is what it is.

It's good. I know it's good.

But you can't sell empty boxes

no matter what it does to the bowels.

It has to mean something.

We have to make something.

Something that tastes great

and is easy to prepare.

- Something good for you.

- Right! Health!

The "open sesame"

to the sucker's purse.

- Who are you?

- George.

I'm called George.

What's your name?

Eleanor Lightbody.

Do you work here?

I'm Dr. Kellogg's son.

- Not his real son. I'm adopted.

- Oh, of course.

He adopted lots of us.

Yes, I know.

I've got 39 brothers and sisters.

Lucky, aren't I?

Yes, that's very nice.

But why are you here?

I came for my allowance.

And I like to look at the nude ladies.

You have a very nice body,

Mrs. Nicebody.

Lightbody. Mrs. Lightbody.

My mother had a nice body.

She did?

She was a whore.

She was?

In Chicago.

She was dead

when the doctor took me in.

They found me sitting

by her dead body.

George Kellogg!

Come here.

Your coat, George.

Where's your coat?

Look at me.

Why don't you ever speak, George?

It is of great distress to me, to Mrs.

Kellogg, to your brothers and sisters.

Your coat, George. Your coat

is on the floor, not on the hook.

How many times must you be told

to hang your coat up on the hook?

Speak to me.

Hannah!

Yes, sir, Doctor.

You will supervise. George will enter

this house, close the door...

climb the stairs, remove his jacket

and hang it on its hook.

He will do so until bedtime...

and then continue after breakfast

until this time tomorrow.

Until 4:
00 tomorrow.

Is that understood?

Yes, sir, Doctor. Understood.

Sir!

I said until 4:
00 p.m.

It is now 7:
00.

He won't stop, sir. We've tried to,

all of us, but he won't take any notice.

George, that's enough now.

You've learned your lesson.

Run off to your supper.

George, stop this moment, I say.

Stop, I say!

Very well, suit yourself. I have work

to do. You'll continue until you drop.

George, stop this madness immediately!

Stop it. George, stop, stop, stop!

Stop it!

George, I'm so sorry.

I'm sorry. Please, please go

to your room and sleep.

Oh, Virginia, isn't this wonderful?

Don't you sometimes feel you're in the

healthiest spot on the whole planet?

My dear Eleanor, there is

no greater pleasure for a woman...

than bicycling in one's bloomers.

You know, bicycling for women is still

very much frowned upon in Peterskill.

Oh, what they're missing.

Fresh air, the exercise!

And the pleasure of a leather saddle

between one's thighs.

Oh, Virginia, what do you mean?

"Bicycle smile," I believe they call it.

It's changed my life.

I'm afraid I don't follow.

My dear, I have very little use

for my husband...

in the sexual gratification department.

And so I find a long ride on my bicycle

once a week does the trick.

Come on, you two!

Keep up. You're lagging.

You go ahead, Eleanor.

I feel a smile coming on.

Every woman, every man

Every woman, every man

- Is at the temple of health

- Nurse Graves? Irene?

I'm Nurse Bloethal. Would you join me

in the bathroom, please?

I've already had one of those.

Well, now you get another.

Sir?

Bender, Mr. Bender.

Fetch him this instant.

- Where the hell have you been?

- Please, Charles, please.

You're making a scene.

Have a seat.

Are you hungry? You must be.

We had an appointment. We're supposed

to be out looking for factories.

Ah, slipped my mind.

Delmonico steak, rare,

for this gentleman.

Smothered with onions and a plate

of your delicious fried potatoes.

- You look starved.

- We're supposed to be on a budget!

Hello. I'm George.

Meet my luncheon companion,

George Kellogg.

Charles Ossining. Pleased to meet you.

Did you say "Kellogg"?

Mm-hmm.

George has the proud distinction

of being John Harvey Kellogg's son.

The doctor's a very great man.

He's a f*** pig. I hate him.

Charles, this worthless bundle

of piss and vomit beneath our table...

is the good doctor's

estranged adopted son.

- No love lost between them, I'm afraid.

- Did you say "worthless"?

- Yeah.

- Goodloe, hear me now.

This man is the key to our fortune.

You need your steak.

You're delirious.

- What if we made him our partner?

- You're most certainly delirious.

- Where the hell is this man's luncheon?

- The name!

The magic name. Kellogg.

The good doctor's brother has spent

millions advertising it.

Don't you see? It's so simple!

- We become...

- Ah!

Kellogg's Per-Fo Incorporated!

It's brilliant, Charles.

You are brilliant.

There's no doubt.

I feel a wind crackling

with banknotes blowing in our direction.

- But maybe it's...

- It's what?

Maybe it's a tad dishonest.

It's enterprise.

It's the lifeblood that pumps through

the veins of this wonderful country.

It's a stroke of genius.

Lift up your eyes.

Look. What do you see?

- Wellville.

- Yes!

The shining spires of Wellville,

gleaming in the sun.

A magical land of health and money.

It's a good idea, if I do say so

myself. It is a great idea!

You are a genius, Charles.

You know, last night I awoke

to the sound of spoons.

- Spoons?

- Millions of them.

Rattling against a hundred million

breakfast bowls...

brimming with our cornflakes.

Listen, Charles.

What do you hear?

The sound of money!

Where would you like to sit, sir?

- I was looking for my wife, actually.

- Here's a menu, sir.

The nut Lisbon steak with the

gluten gravy looks delicious today.

No. Toast. Dry toast and water.

Won't you join us?

Introductions, please,

Mr. Hart-Jones.

Endymion Hart-Jones.

No, I'll just have the toast.

That's my name. I'm not on the menu.

This is Mrs. Tindermarsh.

Miss Muntz you've met, I believe.

The Russian gentleman at the end

we call Mr. Unpronounceable...

is from Saint Petersburg, and neither

speaks nor understands English.

Do smile at him.

He has chronic wind, poor fellow.

- Will Lightbody.

- Eleanor's husband. What a pleasure.

- Sore rectum?

- Yes, somewhat.

The enemas take some getting used to,

but in time you'll learn...

to look forward to them

like an old friend with a cold nose.

I must say five a day does seem

a bit too, well, purgative.

Five?

The doctor is rather addicted to his

enemas as befits a broom maker's son.

I understand he got the idea

in India. He was studying...

Africa. It was Africa.

Africa, India. Anyway...

he was studying apes that apparently ate

and pooed, as it were, simultaneously.

Oh. Well, I don't eat very much.

I don't eat very much at all.

But the apes suffer not

in the slightest...

from the ailments that afflict

the civilized bowel.

We're all too house-trained,

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