ICY BLONDE WOMAN [weighted down with diamonds]: I’m awfully nervous, John
A PSYCHIATRIST: You’re absolutely crazy, Madeline. The specific nature of your madness has long been of interest to men of science. Allow me to deliver a thirty-minute lecture directly to the camera in front of the blackboard on the subject. [He does so.]
DETACHED BLONDE WOMAN: I tell you I won’t do it. I won’t do it. I can’t bear to go along with this scheme a second longer. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t–
A PAIR OF SUNGLASSES WITH STRONG MIDCENTURY LINES: Madeline, you’re absolutely out of your mind
FRIGID BLONDE WOMAN [almost entirely encrusted with diamonds]: I sometimes wonder if I am going mad.
[A procession of sneering train passengers walk past and strike the blonde woman, who responds with indifference.]
FROSTY BLONDE WOMAN [in a subtle, Nordic sort of way]: Am I going mad, Arthur?
A SINISTER HAIRLINE IN A WELL-TAILORED SUIT: I don’t like women at all but I am obsessed with them which is just as good
Someone named Ethel probably: what if something happened to a woman with dark hair
shut up Ethel
A BELOVED UNCLE: we were all Nazis the whole time
ALOOF BLONDE WOMAN: I have small breasts and am therefore fascinating and unknowable
A MAN WHO IS TEN THOUSAND YEARS OLD AND LOOKS LIKE THE GRANDFATHER OF RAISINS AND IS EITHER CARY GRANT OR JIMMY STEWART: kiss me, you crazy Madeline [she does for some reason]
ENIGMATIC BLONDE WOMAN: [dies in a lovely blue skirtsuit]
OR WAS SHE
