Bucket: Where did you get this?
Mildred: You must be the head nurse. Mildred Ratched.
Bucket: I didn't ask what your name was. Where did you get the letter?
Mildred: Why, it was sent to me.
Bucket: That's where I'm confused because there is no one in his office, except for Dr. Hanover and myself. I didn't send that, and I can assure you, that isn't Dr. Hanover's signature.
Mildred: I have come quit a long way, and would just like to speak with him.
Bucket: Dr. Hanover is out of the office until later this afternoon. If you'd like to leave a number...
Mildred: If you don't mind, I'd prefer to wait here.
Bucket: He'll be gone some time.
Mildred: You just said he'd be back in the afternoon.
Bucket: It could be longer.
Mildred: Then it could be shorter by your own logic. I truly don't mind waiting. I have nowhere else to be.
Bucket: Very well.
Clerk: Here's that map you asked for, ma'am.
Mildred: Thank you.
Clerk: May I ask why you're headed to Lucia?
Mildred: That seems like a rather personal question now, doesn't it?
Clerk: Sorry.
Mildred: Clearly, your tumescence has distracted you, sir. I recall asking for today's local paper.
Clerk: Oh, sorry. Here you go. Yeah, it's big news around here. Everybody's up in arms. A fella cuts up a bunch of priests and they ship him up to Lucia. Hey, that's where you're headed. You're not some sort of journalist, or something, are you?
Mildred: You should bathe more often. Your finger nails are filthy.
