SUB ANN: Hey, I know these flowers. (Singing) Mary, Mary quite contrary how does your garden grow. I don't know. You'd think they would all be dead by now. Maybe I'll put in a trout stream or a trailer park. Something that sparkles. One hundred synchronized swimming bullhead trout. The sun dancing off the handcrafted glitter puffpaint sweatshirts of a legion of white trash mothers and the silver teeth of their sugar water in a bottle babies. I don't know, something like that.