Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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