My instinct tells me not. What? Okay . . . what did he do? So now we've got a [something] minute of justice. I know it's early, I'm sorry. I'll get more. Is that your sister? Yeah, she went off. I really need to ask your mom some questions about your dad. What about your sister? I have to ask about everything. He hit her. He cried. Touch her in any other way? How should I know stuff like that? Can I take that [something]? Can I use the bathroom? It's down on the right.
These young... Nice smile. Aww, little fella, [something], thank you. Come on. I'm sorry. I'm sure that's some kind of serious antidepressant. I suppose so. One of the women -- yes, alright. I feel there's a market for virgins. Do you recognize any of these faces? You see this man? Couple of times. Keep me out of this. Please, I have a young daughter. Brought the girls in from wherever. You see her? You don't think so? Maybe. A lot of them were foreign. How short? Thirteen. She burned herself to death in front of me.
There was another man. He was evil. I will look after you, I promise. I don't know her.
No one can.
Every now and then you have to take a steady look at what's going into your mind. I was listening to something on TV and I wrote down the dialog as fast as I could, missing about half of it. The resulting combo of banality and menace sounds a lot like a radio broadcast from Hell, doesn't it?