Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

[music fades]
-Will. -Somebody has to stop you, Dickie!
[scoffs]
[music fades]
Samuel's work, perhaps.
[screaming and snarling continue]
[ominous music playing]
[Pickman] Paint what you see,
[tortured screaming]
-[distant cackling] -[music turns sinister]
-[door creaks] -[footsteps recede]
[spoon clatters]
Are you tired?
Oh. Are you all right?
-[Thurber grunts] -[crockery clatters]
[snarling]
That's because you lack imagination.
No, no, not…
well, sort of a ritual,
[voice] Rebecca?
[squelching]
[growling]
No, get down!
Cursed rats.
My family have been in New England for generations,
What have you done, Joe?
-You show up drunk. -I'm not--
[cabinet whirs and creaks]
I'm here now.
Full house.
-What? -That… That woman.
It smells delicious.
[Pickman] I think the rats got to her.
[coughs]
[Thurber] Mm?
[eerie music playing]
[flies buzz]
I'm s… I'm sorry.
It's me.
[music builds to sweeping string melody]
Excuse me.
Reid did much of the heavy lifting before I stepped in.
[snarling]
[melancholy music playing]
Do not look at them.
to destroy my paintings, should you still think them unsuitable,
Mr. Pickman,
[music intensifies]
We ascribe these visions to a feverish imagination.
[Rebecca] Will?