The Witches of Eastwick Page #2

Is that Clyde and Felicia?

Yeah. Clyde?

I'll call you back, okay?

I have this culinary piece.

Hi, Felicia.

"Cheeseburger pie"?

ls your column finished?

Here's the track meet, births and

deaths, the senior citizens' news.

The toxic waste article

should be done this afternoon.

This pie looks good.

Did you hear someone bought

the Lenox mansion?

That house is landmark building.

They have no right to sell it.

I can't do anything about that.

No.

You're too busy...

reporting on the horse trough and

Herbie Prescott's trip to Bermuda.

What's going to happen

to those birds now? Tell me that.

What birds?

The snowy egrets.

Where will they nest?

I don't know.

Exactly.

Felicia, what's the matter?

Honey. It's only a house.

Why are you so upset?

I have a feeling.

The most terrible feeling.

Something is happening.

Something evil.

I'm just glad they're selling.

I was afraid that...

They're not selling, they sold.

Just like that.

I don't understand.

You know I adore the little creatures.

So unreal, and yet the detail.

Little fingers and toes, little pudenda

making a bump. So sweet.

But nobody's even looked

at them sideways in months.

Then this morning...

this man appeared

out of absolutely nowhere.

So charming. Not really handsome,

but... riveting.

That's it. I was riveted.

I looked into his eyes...

and had thoughts I hadn't

entertained since World War ll.

I think I actually blushed.

Can you imagine?

No, I mean, yeah. So he bought one?

He bought all of them.

Every single one.

So who was he? A tourist?

No, he just bought the Lenox house.

He's moving in.

Do you remember his name?

Of course. His name is...

He told me.

I wrote it down, even.

It was...

foreign.

It sounded...

It's right on the tip of my tongue,

but I can't...

Oh.

Isn't that diabolical?

What is that noise?

I don't know.

Outrageous!

Brava!

Brava!

Bravis!

Bravis!

He bought all of them?

- And now he's here.

- Making goo-goo eyes at Jane.

And the interview too. How weird.

Didn't I tell you?

Oh, it was after we talked.

The paper called him

and asked to interview him...

About the house renovation and all.

He said he'd love to be interviewed

and asked for me.

Why?

I don't know, I mean he wants me

to do the interview.

- Who is he?

- He must have a name.

I just can't remember it.

Why would he ask for you?

Because I'm good at it.

You act like I'm so stupid.

He was in my shop.

You're not stupid. But how does

he know who Sukie Ridgemont is?

I don't know.

He bought the Lenox estate

just like that.

- From New York.

- He has some kind of a foreign name.

Van something or other.

Oh, there you are. How sweet.

They're from him. With a personal note.

- Just the initial

- Yeah, it starts with

- David'?

- No. It has an "R" in it.

Doberman?

- Drake?

- Darren.

It's "D" something, "R" something,

Daryl!

- Van Horne.

- Yes!

- Daryl Van Horne.

- Daryl Van Horne?

What kind of name is that?

Felicia!

Sweetheart?

Oh, Clyde, honey.

I think I broke my leg.

Looking for me?

Are you looking for me?

Or is this just a happy coincidence?

- Actually, I was...

- Just looking.

Well, too bad.

Have you seen any snowy egrets out here?

- No.

- Neither have I.

Not that I'd know a snowy egret if I was

pissing on one. You want some lunch?

I think it's a little late

in the season.

For lunch?

No, pissing on birds.

Daryl Van Horne.

Alexandra Medford.

The local sculptress.

The one who makes...

the little booby dolls.

They're just little...

Little, yes, but potent. Full of juice.

Potent. You can feel it

when you pick them up.

I sent a couple to New York.

I have a friend down there.

Terrific fellow.

He has a gallery.

I wanted to hear his opinion.

Of course the scale is wrong.

Get bigger.

Let yourself go.

Get some size into it.

Do you like fish?

We're having fish for lunch.

Interesting, huh?

Oh, yes.

Fidel, that's his name.

Women love him.

They're crazy about him.

He has a big schlong.

Huge.

Well, there you are.

Scale again. Size.

Who knows, maybe it's a masculine thing.

They say women don't care. I'm in

the middle myself. How about you?

How about me, what?

See, women are in touch

with different things.

That's my opinion. It's not a

fashionable one right now, but f*** it!

I see men running around,

putting their d*cks...

into everything,

trying to make something happen.

But it's women who are the source,

the only power.

Nature. Birth. Rebirth.

Clich. Clich.

Sure. But true.

Why are you telling me this?

You're an honest woman.

I'm being honest with you.

I like women. I admire them.

But if you want me to treat you

like a dumb twit, I will.

But what for? You have brains, Alex.

More than brains. But you don't

know it. Most women don't.

Are you married?

Good question!

You see? Brains.

The answer is no.

I don't believe in it.

Good for the man.

Lousy for the woman.

She dies. She suffocates.

I've seen it. Then the husband...

complains to everyone that

he's f***ing a dead person.

And he's the one who killed her.

- Where is your husband?

- Dead.

Sorry, but you're one of the lucky ones.

When a woman unloads a husband

or a husband unloads a woman...

however it happens...

death, desertion, divorce: the three Ds.

When that happens, a woman blooms.

She blossoms.

Like flowers. Like fruit.

She is ripe.

That's the woman for me.

Would you like to see my house?

Yes.

In case anybody ever...

needed any exercise...

the pool is right over there,

past the piano...

where the ballroom used to be.

Interesting word, "ballroom."

It's one of my favorites.

Over there is...

my study.

Oh.

- This is my bedroom.

- Yes, it is.

The Borgias once owned the bed.

Of course, you have to pay for it

with your soul, but...

what the hell,

I deserve a little luxury.

You have to take care of yourself.

No one will do that for you, will they?

Hmm?

Ha. Ha-ha.

What do you think you're doing?

Being as direct with you as I know how.

I thought you'd appreciate it.

I always like a little p*ssy

after lunch. What do you say?

- Hmm?

- Are you trying to seduce me?

I wouldn't dream of seducing you,

Alexandra.

I wouldn't insult your intelligence...

with anything as trivial

as seduction.

But, I would love to f*** you.

I have to admit that I appreciate

your directness, Daryl.

I will try to be as direct...

and honest with you

as I possibly can be.

I think...

No, I am positive that you are the most

unattractive man I have ever met...

in my entire life.

This afternoon, you have demonstrated

every loathsome characteristic...

of the male personality

and even added some new ones.

You are physically repulsive,

intellectually retarded...

morally reprehensible, vulgar,

insensitive, selfish, stupid.

You have no taste, no sense of humor

and you smell.

You're not even interesting enough

to make me sick.

Um... Would you like to be

on top or the bottom?

Goodbye, Daryl, and thank you

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