The Road to Wellville Page #4

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Mrs. Tindermarsh.

But we couldn't go around evacuating

at will, Mr. Hart-Jones.

The mess would be frightful.

Do you masticate, Mr. Lightbody?

Do I what?

Masticate?

You're not a follower

of Horace Fletcher?

Fletcherize.

- You really must chew, Mr. Lightbody.

- Oh.

One, two, three, four.

Chew, chew, chew

That is the thing to do

Chew, chew, chew

Good food is good for you

Chew, chew, chew

But only if you chew

That is the right thing to do

Poor thing has eaten nothing but toast

for days. He's probably a little weak.

Drink the water, Mr. Lightbody.

I think I fainted. Ellie.

We'll leave you to it,

Mrs. Lightbody.

It's all right, Will.

Everything's fine.

Oh, I miss you, Eleanor.

I miss... I miss your kindness.

But I'm here, Will. I'm here now.

I'm scared, EI.

I want to go home.

- No, please. Pull yourself together.

- I wanna go home!

Please, you're making

an exhibition of yourself!

I just won't let you

spoil this for me.

I don't like this place.

I want to go home.

But we both made a promise.

We're not well. Neither of us.

Don't you see we can never be happy

until we're healthy again?

It's such a small sacrifice

for all the happy years ahead of us.

But I feel violated here.

I give up.

I love you, Eleanor, sick as I am.

I'm sick too.

I'm sick of your self-pity.

Can't you see this is the only place

where I'm completely happy?

Eleanor, I know it's been hard

for you, but it's these people.

These good people were at my side

when I had my baby. You weren't.

You told me to stay away.

You made me stay away.

I was in Peterskill chewing at

my insides waiting for your telegram.

- I wanted to come.

- You were a useless drunk!

I didn't want you near me, and I

certainly didn't want you near my baby!

By the time you'd sobered up,

our baby was dead!

I'm sorry.

I'm truly sorry.

Is something wrong?

What's the matter?

So why on earth

did you bring him here?

I had to. He's very sick.

- And in a way, it's all my fault.

- Oh, rubbish.

It's true, Virginia.

You see, I poisoned him.

You poisoned him? When?

How? Strychnine? Arsenic?

It wasn't deliberate.

I didn't mean to hurt him.

He used to take Hostetter's Bitters

for his stomach and...

Don't tell me... 80% alcohol.

Wonderful stuff.

I used to take it for my monthly.

Then he went on to drinking

a whole bottle of Old Crow a night.

He was like a stranger.

And he always wanted...

Sex?

- It was...

- Don't tell me.

Grunt, grunt, thank you very much.

Good night, spit, snore.

- It wasn't that I didn't want him...

- Marriage is legalized prostitution.

I wanted to be more than a hole

in the mattress that answers to a name.

Amen.

So I saw this cure for drunkenness

in the Lily magazine.

The Sears White Star Liquor Cure,

it was called.

And I used to slip a drop

into his coffee each evening...

and he slept.

He didn't go out or get drunk,

he just slept and slept.

It was... It was wonderful.

But then when I was here last,

he found the bottle and had it analyzed.

What was in it?

The juice of the poppy.

Opium?

Yes.

I'd turned him into an opium addict.

He had terrible nightmares.

And finally his stomach just

completely gave up on him and...

Supposing he dies,

just like my baby died.

Oh, everything's my fault.

I want so much to love him.

I've... I've just forgotten how.

Who is that man?

Bartholomew Bookbinder.

One of Kellogg's top men.

And now he works for us.

He's good, and he's cheap.

Never heard of him.

- You've never heard of him?

- No.

- You know of him?

- No.

- Seen him around?

- Nope.

- The name must ring a bell.

- Nope.

Here she is.

It doesn't seem very... well...

hygienic.

Don't be petty, Charles.

From humble beginnings...

Gentlemen, I think

a little celebration...

is called for.

Charles, please...

as president and chief...

I think a few choice words from you...

are in order.

To our prosperous futures.

No, no, no, no.

To the shining spires of Wellville.

To Wellville.

We love good food!

No fish or fowl...

is a friend of the bowel.

We eat good food.

Puts us in a...

good mood.

Ah, Mr. Lightbody, good morning.

I hope I haven't kept you waiting.

- Have a pomegranate.

- I don't think that I ought to...

No? Antitoxic. The finest roughage

God ever provided.

Off with the robe, please.

A sample of your stool, please.

Here? Now?

Behind the screen, sir.

You are autointoxicated, Mr. Lightbody.

Quite frankly, it was obvious.

Drawn features, dry hair,

mournful expression, sunken eyes.

Coated tongue.

Now, ready?

Is that it?

Well, I don't eat very much.

And with the enemas...

Your stool, Mr. Lightbody,

quite frankly, is pathetic.

Formless, mushy and foul-smelling.

- Take it away, Nurse.

- How should they be?

My own stools, sir, are perfect.

They are gigantic and have no more odor

than a hot biscuit.

On to the Morris-Scope,

if you will, please.

Ha! Just as I thought!

Mr. Lightbody, you, sir,

are the reason why so many women...

like your dear, beautiful wife,

are old longer than they are young.

But I've done everything I could

to help her...

to comfort her, to...

Connubial relations, sir.

Your natural urges.

Sex.

Candidly, Mr. Lightbody, the lump of

flesh that dangles between your legs...

is a dangerous weapon.

It will have to be harnessed, locked

away, retired. For both your sakes.

But we don't... Well, not lately.

Not for a long time.

Not since the...

It is my scientific conclusion

that sex is unnecessary and dangerous.

But isn't that a bit drastic?

You cannot afford

the loss of life-giving fluids.

The shock to the system can be fatal.

Please, blow into this.

I get erections.

- You get what?

- Erections.

He gets erections.

I warn you, sir, an erection

is a flagpole on your grave.

I can't help it.

You listen to me, Lightbody. Our baser

appetites can and must be controlled.

I myself am a monk with regard

to the sexual intercourse...

and hence I am a beacon

of good fine health...

and more importantly,

so is my dear beautiful wife.

- I didn't realize...

- Fortunately, I can help you.

- And so can someone else.

- Who?

- The Bulgarians.

- The Bulgarians?

The Bulgarians live longer than any

other humans on earth, and you know why?

No, I'm sorry,

I don't know any Bulgarians.

- Yogurt.

- Yogurt?

Nurse Graves!

- Yes, Doctor?

- Take Mr. Lightbody...

to the yogurt room

and give him 15 gallons.

Oh, no, no, I can't eat

15 gallons of yogurt.

Oh, it's not goin' in that end,

Mr. Lightbody.

But I get desires.

You mustn't. Not at the San.

It's very bad for your health.

Erections?

Yes! All the time.

Since I got here.

Ah, the silent killer

of the night.

They say nothing takes

the rosiness from the cheeks...

as fast as personal fornication.

Oh, the pleasures

of the sinusoidal bath.

One of the doctor's better inventions.

Feel the current tingle, Will?

- I do. Isn't it dangerous?

- Apparently not.

Can you feel those electric ants

nibbling at your privates?

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