Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

What… What you make, it… it…

That guy's got to be at least 80 years old.

[Thurber grunts]

[softly] Joe. Joe!

If you come to my house now.

-Would you… -You should join us.

[crooner sings on radio]

For those of you unaware of its importance,

[metallic clatter]

Ah! [breathes heavily]

-Perhaps that is what he saw. -The man does draw in the cemetery.

Tell me, Richard, you must be so excited to debut the exhibition.

What is happening to me?

[eerie chords build]

[child yells faintly]

[suspenseful music playing]

I saw the piece you did in Bosworth's class.

[inhales sharply, grunts]

Old New England money.

then served his still-warm flesh to members of her coven.

Do you see what I'm dealing with? Rotten?!

[Pickman] Sort of a… buzzing?

[distant growling]

[distant revelers whoop]

You thinking about entering the art prize?

[knife chopping]

Come to my house.

[Pickman] Sounds of their party.

[disembodied growling, whispering]

[chopping continues]

Dickie, I swear to God!

I want you to know that it's… it's all over now.

[fraught music playing]

More than your lovely husband, I fear.

Time for bed. Go brush your teeth.

Tell you what, I will take all these to my office so I can see them every day.

[pensive music playing]

Sure, thank you.

If my fellow committee members will indulge me,

It's my business…