Murdock: [from inside padded cell] TRAAAAASH BAGS! I want TRAAAAASH BAGS! I want 'em! I want 'em!! Psychiatrist: [To guard] Do we have any trash bags? Maybe he'll put his head inside and suffocate.
Catalog
'Howling Mad' Murdock
[Murdock and Hannibal are seated in chairs will trash-bag balloons tied to them] Hannibal: Murdock, how'd I let you talk me into this? Murdock: I don't know, I have intermittent memory loss! [Takes off over prison wall]
[Murdock is being shown Rorschach ink blots by a prison psychiatrist. The first picture is a butterfly] Murdock: Tractor. Psychiatrist: You don't really see a tractor, do you, Murdock? Murdock: [smiles] You're right. I was just guessing. Psychiatrist: Well, don't guess. What does it look like?…
Murdock: TRAAAAAASH BAGS! I want TRAAAAAASH BAGS! [gets one and stops shouting] Psychiatrist: We give him one, and he shuts up for a couple of hours. Face: Hmmm. Interesting. If I could talk to him, I might be able to determine if it's a genuine neurotic fixation or if our boy is trying to section…
B.A.: We're offline Hannibal, all four mics are dead! Hannibal: [from behind a newspaper] Looks like they found them. Face: Great, that means we've lost the edge. Up against guys like these that, that doesn't make me feel too good. [Murdock opens his mouth to say something] B.A.: Shut up, Murdock!…
Did you ever see a hearse go by and think that someday you'd surely die? They put you in a little box and cover you over with dirt and rocks.