Without the spider we would be overrun by the fly.
.
.
.
.
MARTIN: Here, give it to me.
RENFIELD: Don’t throw my spider away from me. Oh, Martin, oh!
MARTIN: Ain’t you ashamed, now, ain’t ya? Spiders now, ain’t
it? Flies ain’t good enough?
RENFIELD: Flies? Flies? Poor puny things. Who wants to eat
flies?
MARTIN: You do, you loony!
RENFIELD: Not when I can get nice fat spiders.
MARTIN: All right, have it your own way.
What happened? This version is blurred out.
I didin’t notice. I must have enlarged it too much. Let’s see what I can do.
The spider weaves its web of deceit.
Without the spider we would be overrun by the fly.
.
.
.
.
MARTIN: Here, give it to me.
RENFIELD: Don’t throw my spider away from me. Oh, Martin, oh!
MARTIN: Ain’t you ashamed, now, ain’t ya? Spiders now, ain’t
it? Flies ain’t good enough?
RENFIELD: Flies? Flies? Poor puny things. Who wants to eat
flies?
MARTIN: You do, you loony!
RENFIELD: Not when I can get nice fat spiders.
MARTIN: All right, have it your own way.