"Oh Clive, this is a dream come true! To be in Rome! To walk the streets of a city so steeped in the very essence of humankind. To see the very hills that were seen by Caesar! This is what I've longed for Clive....How insightful of you to know that this and only this could erase my troubled memories of outings gone awry. I so love you, Clive."

"Oh Jasmine, I love you with all my heart, and it does me good to se you so. Let us forget the past, let us forget the murdering bees, the berry pestilence, the crippling shellfish. Let us glory in Rome!"

"Oh yes, Clive, yes. Let us clamber up the Spanish steps and....and....oh...why how odd..."

"What Jasmine, my dearest, what's wrong?"

"Well, I don't know, Clive, there's a fragrance...."

"A fragrance, my sweet?"

"Well, perhaps not a fragrance, more an odor...and it reminds me of something, of bonfires on the beach, and my gradmother's famous Thanskgiving turkey, left too long a-bake in the oven...."

"Why, I smell it too! And what is that I see wafting above the hill...A mist? A fog? Why, no, I think it must be smoke....Yes, Smoke! Oh, I see now, I see what it is...Oh, God! Don't look Jasmine, Don't look.....!"

"Oh Clive, let it be not what I think.....Oh please tell me it's not....!"

"Yes, Jasmine, it's what we fear most: Smoke is pouring from Jim Caviezel's ear!"