Death Becomes Her

Who do you think
you´re talking to?

You´re a cheap,
tacky little tramp.

Who do you think
you are?

- Nothing like the woman l married.
- You´re nothing!

- You´re a broad!
- You´re a tragic, boozy, flaccid clown.

- Watch it, Madeline.
- That´s it. Flaccid.

- Watch what you say.
- Flaccid.

l don´t have to take
this any longer!

You´ll take everything l have to give!
You always have.

You´re not even a man anymore.
And l need a man!

A real man, not some drunken,
broken-down flaccid undertaker...

who is just as dead below
the waist as his clients are.

Hey, l might have more fun
with one of your clients!

At least l´d know l´d be
getting something stiff--

Did you think that l was just going
to take it forever, Madeline?

Did you?
You cruel, vicious,
loathsome bitch!

Please? Please?
Oh, God! Oh!
- Madeline, l´m so sorry.
- Oh, help me! Help me!

Help me!
Hurry up, you wimp!

Oh, boy.