THE VARIABLE WILLOUGHBY

(AMUCK IN THE WORLDS)

EPISODE 15: "THE GENIUS OF THESE WOODS" OR "I’M ALSO WEARING EXPLOSIVES"

©1993, 1995 ROBERT CIRASA AND JOSEPH BEVILACQUA

OPEN ON SOUNDS OF THE WOODS IN AUTUMN--BIRDS, WIND WHIRRING THROUGH THE PINE TREES, DOGS BARKING IN THE DISTANCE, LEAF CRUNCH AT THE FOOTSTEPS OF THE APPROACHING WILLOUGHBY.

WILLOUGHBY: (DROPPING A LOAD OF WOOD AND PUFFING WITH SOME MEASURE OF EXERTION) THERE PROFESSOR. THAT'S ALL THAT'S LEFT OF THE TREE. IT SHOULD BE ENOUGH TO BOIL UP YOUR DINNER.

PROFESSOR: EXCELLENTLY EFFICIENT, WILLOUGHBY -- THAT THE VERY SOURCE OF THE WOOD FOR THIS CABIN YOU HAVE ASSEMBLED SHOULD BE THE SOURCE OF ITS FIRE'S FIRST FUEL AS WELL IS INSPIRING TESTIMONY TO THE THOROUGHNESS (PRONOUNCED VAGUELY LIKE "THOREAUNESS") WITH WHICH YOU HAVE ABSORBED MY LESSONS IN THIS TRANSCENDENTAL ENTERPRISE.

WILLOUGHBY: (SLIGHTLY PREOCCUPIED) GEE, THANKS. UH, SHOULDN'T I BE CHECKIN' THE DOGS?

PROFESSOR: (MILDLY SCOLDING) THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO FONDLE YOUR PETS, WILLOUGHBY. INDEED, I WOULD THAT YOU'D HAVE LOOSED THEM WHEN WE FIRST SETTLED OURSELVES IN THIS WALDEN-LIKE WOOD. YOUR WORK HERE IS NOT YET DONE. OUR CABIN'S TIMBERS NEED PLASTER--I HEAR THE HOWL OF WINTER'S WINDS.

WILLOUGHBY: I THINK THOSE ARE MY DOGS, PROFESSOR. THEY ALWAYS HOWL LIKE THAT WHEN THEY GET HUNGRY.

PROFESSOR: I CANNOT CONCEIVE OF HOW THOSE NEWFOUNDLAND HUSKIES CONSUME SUCH VAST QUANTITIES OF CALORIES TIED UP AS YOU HAVE THEM TO THOSE SLEDS. YOU OUGHT TO EXERCISE THEM, YOU KNOW--AND FEED THEM A MORE NATURAL DIET THAN PROCESSED CANNED FOOD.

WILLOUGHBY: I'M AFRAID TO LET 'EM LOOSE, PROFESSOR. IT'S CONFUSING IN THESE WOODS--THEY'LL GET LOST. THESE TREES ALL LOOK ALIKE, YA KNOW. AND I'VE GOT THREE SLEDS OF THAT DOG FOOD LEFT. I DON'T WANT TO WASTE IT. BESIDES, THOSE CHEESE CHUNKS TASTE PRETTY GOOD.

PROFESSOR: WILLOUGHBY! YOU PROMISED! MY EXPERIMENT WILL NEVER SUCCEED IF YOU CONTINUE TO POLLUTE YOURSELF.

WILLOUGHBY: (ASHAMED) OH, I GUESS I NEED MORE ABSORBING, HUH, PROFESSOR?

PROFESSOR: OH WILLOUGHBY! (SCOLDING) AS THOREAU, THE GENIUS OF THESE WOODS, HAS SAID, "WE ARE THE SUBJECTS OF AN EXPERIMENT WHICH IS NOT A LITTLE INTERESTING TO ME." PERHAPS I SHOULD EXPLAIN... (WITH A BREATH OF EXASPERATION)... FURTHER. I HAVE COME TO REALIZE IN THE TRANQUILLITY OF THIS SETTING THAT MY PREVIOUS IDEA OF SYSTEMATICALLY RIDDING THE WORLD OF ALL ITS ILLS ONE PEST AT A TIME WAS FUNDAMENTALLY MISCONCEIVED. YOU SEE, WILLOUGHBY, WE ARE THE WORLD--INDEED, THE VERY UNIVERSE. AND THUS, WE MUST EAT PROPERLY.

WILLOUGHBY: BUT THOSE CHEESE CHUNKS, PROFESSOR!

PROFESSOR: AN ANIMAL PRODUCT, WILLOUGHBY.

WILLOUGHBY: YEAH, BUT IT WON'T MAKE YOU SICK.

PROFESSOR: NOR WILL IT MAKE YOU WELL. BUT HERE IN THESE WOODS GROW ALL THAT IS MACROBIOTIC. YOU SEE, WILLOUGHBY, THOREAU WAS CORRECT IN ADJURING US TO TRANSCENDENTAL VEGETARIANISM. FOOD, NOT PESTS, IS THE SOLUTION -- WHICH IS WHY WE HAVE SET ABOUT TO RECREATE THE WALDEN EXPERIMENT, ELIMINATING, OF COURSE, THE PRACTICE OF HUSBANDRY AND THE CONSUMPTION OF CULTIVATED CROPS THAT TAINTED THOREAU'S PROTOCOL.

CHIPPY: (IN A PRETENTIOUS, INTELLECTUAL VOICE SOMEWHAT REMINISCENT OF THE PROFESSOR'S WITHOUT THE JOWLS) "SIMPLIFY, SIMPLIFY!"

WILLOUGHBY: HEY, PROFESSOR--I THINK THAT THOREAU GUY IS SOMEWHERE IN THE TREES!

PROFESSOR: WILLOUGHBY, WHEN I REFERRED TO THOREAU AS THE "GENIUS" OF THIS PLACE, I DID NOT MEAN TO SAY THAT HE WAS A PALPABLE PHYSICAL PRESENCE. AFTER ALL, I AM NOT CERTAIN THAT THOREAU WAS EVER A PERSONAGE AT ALL IN THIS WORLD LINE IN WHICH WE FIND OURSELVES. I MERELY MEANT THAT HE IS OUR INSPIRATION. ANY VOCALIZATION ASSOCIATED WITH HIS MEMORY IS MORE LIKELY ATTRIBUTABLE TO THE DIGITAL MIMICRY OF CHIPPY, THAT MISCHIEVOUS MICROPROCESSOR OF TRAPPER CARL'S, WHOM I SOMETIMES SUSPECT HAS THE CAPACITY TO READ MINDS AS WELL.

CHIPPY: (IN BYSSHE'S VOICE) "NO MAN EVER FOLLOWED HIS GENIUS TILL IT MISLED HIM."

WILLOUGHBY: HEY! NOW THERE'S TWO OF THEM! AND I THINK ONE OF 'EM'S THAT FLAKY POET, BYSSHE!

PROFESSOR: ACTUALLY, WILLOUGHBY, THOREAU WAS MORE A PHILOSOPHER THAN A POET. BUT IN EITHER CASE, PLEASE LEARN TO IGNORE HIM AS I HAVE. THE PLASTER AWAITS YOU.

WILLOUGHBY: AW, PROFESSOR. WHAT ABOUT MY DOGS? WE'RE HUNGRY!

SOUND OF DOGS HOWLING IN AGREEMENT.

WILLOUGHBY: YA HEAR?

PROFESSOR: OH, WILLOUGHBY! "IGNORE HIM AS I HAVE"--THOSE ARE NOT AUTHENTIC HUNGER HOWLS. (THEN INDULGING HIM IN EXASPERATION) NOW GO TO YOUR DOGS.

WILLOUGHBY: GEE, THANKS, PROFESSOR! I'LL BE BACK AFTER LUNCH!

SOUND OF WILLOUGHBY TROMPING OFF INTO THE LEAVES. SOUND OF EXCITED DOGS OFF IN THE DISTANCE.

PROFESSOR: (TO HIMSELF) AH, WELL-- "THE EXPENSE OF YOUTHFUL DAYS AND COSTLY HOURS."

CHIPPY: (AS PARROT) SQUAWK! "GIRLS AND BOYS AND YOUNG WOMEN GENERALLY SEEM[ED] TO BE GLAD IN THE WOODS."

PROFESSOR: OH, YOU CONFOUNDED CHIP! WILL YOU LEAVE ME TO MY BUSINESS?!

CHIPPY: (AS PARROT) "I THOUGHT OFTEN AND SERIOUSLY OF PICKING HUCKLEBERRIES." SQUAWK!

PROFESSOR: YES, HUCKLEBERRIES. NOW LET'S SEE. THESE LOOK TASTY.

SOUNDS OF THE PROFESSOR PLUCKING A BUSH AND FEEDING HIMSELF TO HUMMING DELIGHT. OFF IN THE DISTANCE OF A SINGLE DOG BARK PANNING ACROSS THE STEREOPHONIC FIELD WITH DOPPLER EFFECT AND WILLOUGHBY'S PACK BARKING IN RESPONSE AND SUBSUMING IT UNTIL THEY QUIET AND THE FOREGROUND RETURNS TO THE PROFESSOR'S MUNCHING AS HE REFLECTS UPON HIS SURROUNDINGS WITH A FULL MOUTH.

PROFESSOR: I FEEL MORE... [SWALLOWS HARD]... PURIFIED ALREADY. (BEAT AND RELISHING BREATH) THE BOUNTY OF THIS BUSH IS SURPASSED ONLY BY THE PEACE OF THIS PLACE.

SOUND OF DOG OWNER (WITH A STRONG MASS. ACCENT) SHOUTING IN DISTANCE AFTER HIS WAYWARD DOG.

DOG OWNER: CINNAMON!

PROFESSOR: OH THAT CHIPPY! (BEAT) HMMM... THIS BARK LOOKS APPEALING.

SOUNDS OF THE PROFESSOR PEELING BARK AND BITING INTO IT WITH CRUNCH AND A GAG.

PROFESSOR: HMMM.... GAG....

DOG OWNER: (CLOSER) CINNAMON!

PROFESSOR: AH, THERE, THAT'S BETTER. I ALMOST FEEL NAUSEOUS. NOW FOR A DRINK OF THIS WALDENESQUE POND. HMMM... WHERE DID I PUT MY DIPPER? HERE IT IS.

SOUND OF SCOOPING WATER, SLURP, AND GULP. THEN THE CLOSER CALL OF THE DOG OWNER.

DOG OWNER: CINNAMON!

PROFESSOR: OH DO BE QUIET, YOU CHIPPY!

CHIPPY: SQUAWK! "ALL SOUND HEARD AT THE GREATEST POSSIBLE DISTANCE PRODUCES THE SAME EFFECT." SQUAWK!

DOG OWNER: (VERY CLOSE) EXCUSE ME!

PROFESSOR: OH! A REAL PERSON! (STRUGGLING TO SUPPRESS HIS NAUSEA) EXCUSE ME..... (SHUFFLING OFF INTO THE BRUSH, THEN BARFING) BLAAWWWHHH!

DOG OWNER: ULGGH. YA MUSTA EATEN SOMETHIN'. MY DOG DOES THAT ALL THE TIME. SHE EATS GRASS, GOOSE DROPPINGS... THEN THROWS IT ALL RIGHT BACK UP. YA CAN'T STOP HER. SHE'S JUST A DOG.

SOUND OF PROFESSOR COMING OUT OF THE BUSH, A-HEMMING HIS GASTROINTESTINAL COMPOSURE.

PROFESSOR: AHEM... GULP... HMMM..

DOG OWNER: ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?

PROFESSOR: QUITE PURGED, THANK YOU.

DOG OWNER: ARE YOU SURE? YOU LOOK REAL BAD.

PROFESSOR: MY PLAN IH... IH... IH-SCUSE ME!

PROFESSOR RUNS OFF INTO THE BUSH AGAIN AND BARFS.

DOG OWNER: (TO HIMSELF) AAAAHHH--JUST LIKE CINNAMON. (UP) CINNAMON! CINNAMON?!

PROFESSOR TROMPING OUT OF THE BUSH, SMACKING HIS PALATE ONCE AGAIN.

PROFESSOR: I SEE YOU TOO ARE A TRANSCENDENTALIST. BUT IT WILL YOU DO NO GOOD TO CONJURE THAT BARK OUT OF THESE WOODS. THEY ARE LESS LIKE CEYLON THAN CONCORD. HOWEVER, I HAVE FOUND THIS LOCAL BARK HERE TO BE OF EQUALLY SALUTARY --AND FAR MORE POTENT -- EFFECT. WOULD YOU CARE FOR A CHEW?

DOG OWNER: (WITH HUMOROUS SARCASM BUT GENUINELY WARY OF THE PROFESSOR'S PERFECT SERIOUSNESS) OH, GEE, UH... THANKS. I'LL, UH... I'LL SAVE IT FOR MY DOG. (BACK UP TO HIS OWN SERIOUS FRUSTRATION) IF I EVER FIND HER. YOU DIDN'T SEE HER, DID YOU? SHE'S KIND OF A TERRIER GERMAN SHEPHERD WITH DINGO EARS--YA KNOW: BROWN AND BLACK COAT WITH A SMALLER HEAD THAN USUAL--THAT'S WHY I CALL HER CINNAMON.

PROFESSOR: OH. SO YOU ARE NOT A TRANSCENDENTALIST.

DOG OWNER: (WARY AGAIN, THEN SLIGHTLY IRRITATED, SUSPECTING THE PROFESSOR TO BE A NATURE KOOK OR SOME OTHER KIND OF RELIGIOUS NUT) ERR-A... NOT AT THE MOMENT. BUT I'LL THINK ABOUT IT AFTER I FIND MY DOG. YOU GIVIN' OUT PAMPHLETS OR SOMETHIN'?

PROFESSOR: SIR. I AM NO PROSELYTIZER. MY PLAN IS PURELY ONE OF EXEMPLARY SELF-IMPROVEMENT THROUGH MACROBIOTIC FOODS.

DOG OWNER: (NOW FULLY IRRITATED) OH--YOU'RE ONE OF THOSE NUTS FROM THAT NEW HEALTH FOOD STORE IN TOWN, EH?

PROFESSOR: NO SIR. MY MENU INCLUDES ONLY THOSE FOOD STUFFS SUCH AS YOU SEE GROWING WILD ABOUT YOU.

DOG OWNER: OH--CAPTAIN OF THE HUCKLEBERRY PARTY, EH? WELL WE'RE GETTIN' SICK YOU "STARS", YA' HEAR? YOU KEEP HANGIN' AROUND HERE AND TRYIN TO BUY EVERYTHING UP, AND YOU'RE GONNA FIND OUT YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY NATURE TERRORISTS AROUND HERE! (IN DISGUST) AHHHH.... (TURNING BACK TO HIS ORIGINAL BUSINESS) CINNAMON! CINNAMON?!!

SOUND OF THE DOG OWNER TROMPING OFF AND CALLING HIS DOG PERIODICALLY IN THE BACKGROUND.

PROFESSOR: (WITH ANNOYANCE) "VISI...IH.... IH.... TORS"! (WITH A ENORMOUS HEAVE OF VOMIT)!

CHIPPY: (IN THOREAU VOICE) "FREQUENTLY HE WOULD LEAVE HIS DINNER IN THE BUSHES."

PROFESSOR: (EMERGING FROM THE BUSHES, SMACKING PALETTE, RUSTLING LEAVES, ETC.--QUITE DISTRESSED AND FATIGUED) OH, CHIPPY... YOU ARE POSITIVELY EXHAUSTING ME WITH YOUR CONSTANT QUOTATION.

CHIPPY: "MOST MEN LEAD LIVES OF QUIET DESPERATION."

PROFESSOR: (ANNOYED) I KNOW MY WALDEN WELL ENOUGH, THANK YOU! (GRUDGINGLY) ALTHOUGH I MUST ADMIT YOUR RECITATIONS HAVE SOMETIMES PROVED USEFUL TO MY PRESENT ENDEAVORS IN THE ABSENCE OF A PRINTED COPY.

TIMED SO THAT THE RESPONSE COULD BE AMBIGUOUSLY INTERPRETED AS CHIPPY'S, THE DOG PACK BEGINS TO ACT UP OFF IN THE DISTANCE AS WILLOUGHBY LEAVES THEM AFTER THEIR LUNCH AND RETURNS TO THE PROFESSOR WITH THE TELL-TALE SOUNDS OF HIS APPROACH IN THE INCREASINGLY LOUDER LEAF CRUNCH OF HIS TREAD A FEW MOMENTS INTO THE PROFESSOR'S NEXT LINES. THE DOGS SETTLE DOWN AFTER THE INITIAL MOMENTS OF WILLOUGHBY'S DEPARTURE FROM THEM.

PROFESSOR: (IN IRRITATION AT THE INITIAL PACK SOUNDS) OHHHH! (PACK SOUNDS DIMINISHING AND FINALLY CEASING) AH--TRANQUILLITY AGAIN. (BELCH-LIKE SWALLOW OF RELIEF AT INTESTINAL STATE) I BELIEVE THE PURGATIVE QUALITIES OF SOME OF THESE WILD FOODS MAY BE MORE THAN I HAD ANTICIPATED. PERHAPS THESE LEAVES WILL BE A LITTLE LESS NAUSEATING.

SOUND OF PROFESSOR PLUCKING A LEAF AND CHEWING THE LEAF AND IMMEDIATELY THROWING IT UP, SPITTING LEAF BITS, AND CLEARING HIS PALATE AND THROAT OF THE BITTER TASTE, THEN REGAINING HIS COMPOSURE WITH SOME "HMMMS" AND TURNING TO YET ANOTHER TASTY MACROBIOTIC DISH.

PROFESSOR: HMMM... PERHAPS THESE ACORNS.

SOUND OF PROFESSOR MUNCHING ON THE ACORNS AND THEN AGAIN IMMEDIATELY THROWING UP AND CLEARING HIS MOUTH AND THROAT AGAIN.

PROFESSOR: WELL, THEN... (WITH A BREATH OF RELUCTANCE AND CAUTION) PERHAPS... THIS. SHOO SHOO, GANDER.

SOUNDS OF PROFESSOR SHOOING AWAY GEESE, GETTING DOWN ON ALL FOURS AND LAPPING UP GOOSE DROPPINGS LIKE PUDDING, THEN AGAIN IMMEDIATELY AND VIOLENTLY HEAVING.

PROFESSOR: (WITH A REAL BREATH OF DETERMINATION) WELL SURELY THESE MUSHROOMS.

SOUND OF WILLOUGHBY'S APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS IN THE LEAVES ALONG WITH SOUND OF HIM PLUCKING MUSHROOM FROM THE SOIL, POPPING IT INTO HIS MOUTH, AND MUNCHING SOFTLY--WITHOUT HEAVING.

PROFESSOR: AH... THAT'S BETTER.

WILLOUGHBY: HEY PROFESSOR! GUESS WHAT? I GOT ANOTHER DOG! I THINK HE'S A GERMAN SHEPHERD--OR A TERRIER--(WITH A NOTE OF PERPLEXED DISAPPOINTMENT) OR A DINGO--(DISMISSING HIS CONFUSION) UH, I'M NOT SURE WHAT HE IS--BUT HE GETS ALONG GREAT WITH THE HUSKIES. I FED HIM A COUPLE OF CANS OF THAT CHEESE CHUNK STUFF AND TIED HIM UP TO THE SLEDS WITH THE REST OF THE PACK.

PROFESSOR: (HIGH ON MUSHROOMS) WILLOUGHBY: YOUR DOGS ARE BEAUTIFUL. AND YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL... FOR TAKING CARE OF THEM.

WILLOUGHBY: HUH?... PROFESSOR?

PROFESSOR: "HOW THICK THE PIGEONS ARE," WILLOUGHBY.

WILLOUGHBY: OH, I GET IT: YOU WANT ME TO "IGNORE" YOU, DON'T YA?--JUST LIKE YOU DO, RIGHT?

PROFESSOR: "AM I NOT PARTLY LEAVES AND VEGETABLE MOLD MYSELF?"

WILLOUGHBY: (PLAYING ALONG) YEAH, YEAH, SURE. THE HOUSE NEEDS TO BE PLASTERED, RIGHT?

PROFESSOR: THE CABIN IS BEAUTIFUL. (WITH THE WONDER OF AN EPIPHANY) I HAVE DISCOVERED THERE IS A HEALTH FOOD STORE NEARBY! YOU MUST GO TO IT!

WILLOUGHBY: WHAT FOR?

PROFESSOR: BECAUSE THERE ARE STARS THERE!

WILLOUGHBY: OH, NOW I GET IT. THIS IS ALL PART OF YOUR PLAN FOR THE UNIVERSE, RIGHT?

PROFESSOR: (WITH AWESTRUCK INTENSITY AND AN ALMOST RELIGIOUS HUSH) FETCH ME SIX STICKS OF CINNAMON.

WILLOUGHBY: RIGHT, PROFESSOR.

SOUNDS OF WILLOUGHBY RUNNING OFF INTO THE LEAVES.

PROFESSOR: HMMM... (WITH DELECTATION) THESE MUSHROOMS. (VERY SOFTLY TO HIMSELF, WITH SLIGHTLY MUSICAL INTONATION, EMPHASIZING THE "UP", AS THOUGH HE WERE AN SELF-AMUSED CHILD ACTUALLY PULLING SOMETHING OUT OF THE GROUND) PULL IT UP... PULL IT UP.... HMMMM....

SOUNDS OF THE PROFESSOR PULLING MORE FROM THE SOIL AND POPPING THEM INTO HIS MOUTH, THEN MUNCHING.

CHIPPY: (SOUND OF SITAR STRUM)

PROFESSOR: HMMM... "COUSIN TO THE PINE AND THE ROCK."

CHIPPY: (ELECTRIC GUITAR FEED BACK)

PROFESSOR: (TURNING SUDDENLY NASTY) QUIET, YOU CHIPPY! I'M THINKING.

CHIPPY: (IN P.A. DISTORTION) TESTING, ONE, TWO, THREE; ONE, TWO, THREE.

PROFESSOR: (QUIETLY TO SELF, AS THOUGH IN METRONOME FOR A DANCE) FOUR, FIVE, SIX; FOUR, FIVE, SIX.

CHIPPY: SQUAWK! "CRUSADERS ON THE HORIZON!"

PROFESSOR: (WITH LYRICAL RAPTURE) "WITH A SLIGHT TANTIVY AND TREMULOUS MOTION!" FOUR, FIVE, SIX; FOUR, FIVE, SIX. "SINCERITY, TRUTH, SIMPLICITY... FAITH, INNOCENCE, AND THE LIKE." SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE; SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE. MUSHROOM ANGEL... IT WAS ONCE A SACRED ART TO BE A HUSBAND! TEN, TEN, TEN!

WILLOUGHBY COMES BACK, EXCITED AND CALLING THE PROFESSOR FROM A BIT OFF MIKE.

WILLOUGHBY: HEY PROFESSOR! LOOK WHAT I FOUND LOST IN THE WOODS! A REAL LIVE INDIAN! HEY--CAN YOU SHOW ME HOW TO SHOOT A BOW AND ARROW?

GURU: (WITH AN ACCENT THAT SOMETIMES SOUNDS SUSPICIOUSLY MEXICAN) OH, WEAPONS ARE NOT NECESSARY. VICTORY IS WHAT WE HAVE BEFORE WE SURRENDER. JUST RESIST.

PROFESSOR: YOU ARE A TRANSCENDENTALIST!

WILLOUGHBY: YEAH--YOU'RE NO INDIAN!

GURU: I AM SO! I AM FROM CALCUTTA. (PROUDLY) BUT NOW I AM AN AMERICAN. I LIVE IN HOLLYWOOD. I AM GURU TO THE STARS!

PROFESSOR: (WITH AWE) DO YOU... WORK... AT THE HEALTH FOOD STORE?

GURU: I DO NOT WORK. I AM A GURU! WE ARE ALL HERE FOR THE SAME CEREMONY, ARE WE NOT? (BEAT) WHERE IS IT?

PROFESSOR: "THERE WAS A COLONY OF MUSK-RATS IN THE RIVER MEADOWS."

GURU: AH! YOU ARE REAL STUDENT OF THOREAU!

CHIPPY: "IT IS A SURPRISING AND MEMORABLE, AS WELL AS VALUABLE EXPERIENCE, TO BE LOST IN THE WOODS ANY TIME."

GURU: AH, DID YOU HEAR THAT? THE MASTER'S VOICE! IT IS EVERYWHERE IN THESE WOODS! GO ON--TALK TO IT.

BEAT OF DIALOGUE SILENCE.

PROFESSOR: (A BIT PARANOID) "MY ENEMIES ARE WORMS, COOL DAYS, AND MOST OF ALL, WOODCHUCKS."

THE SOUND OF PUBLIC ADDRESS SYSTEM BEGINS WITH INDECIPHERABLE CEREMONIAL REMARKS. CAVALCADE BEGINS TO APPROACH, BUILDING IN VOLUME FROM FAINT TO LOUD AS IT MARCHES ON TO SCENE.

GURU: (WITH THE ENCOURAGING BUT CORRECTIVE PATRONIZATION OF A TEACHER--WITH AN INDIAN ACCENT, OF COURSE) THAT IS GOOD, BUT YOU HAVE NOT YET "ATTRACTED THE VITAL SPIRITS FROM THE AIR," IF I MAY QUOTE. THIS TIME HOLD YOUR DIAPHRAGM HIGHER.

PROFESSOR: "THEY KEPT NUTS AND RAISINS."

CHIPPY: "NOT AS A MUSHROOM."

GURU: AH, YOU SEE! NOW YOU ARE ONE CONVERSÁTION.

WILLOUGHBY: (WITH HIS OWN INSTRUCTIVE, ENTRE NOUS, PATRONIZING TONE) UH, MR. GURU--THAT'S JUST CHIPPY. YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO IGNORE HIM--AS HE DOES.

PROFESSOR: (WITH SUDDEN SERIOUS INSISTENCE) "IF YOU WOULD KNOW THE FLAVOR OF HUCKLEBERRIES, ASK THE COWBOY."

CHIPPY: "OR THE PARTRIDGE!" SQUAWK!

WILLOUGHBY: SEE? IT'S THAT STUPID BIRD AGAIN.

GURU: (DISMISSIVELY) OH, IT IS JUST A WAY OF TALKING--ABOUT WHAT WE EAT. THAT IS WHY WE ARE HERE! YOU KNOW--TO MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! (END WITH AN AMBIGUOUS INFLECTION, VAGUELY MEXICAN AS MUCH AS INDIAN)

PROFESSOR: (WITH INEXPLICABLE ANGER) "I COULD SPIT A MEXICAN WITH A GOOD RELISH"!

GURU: (TAKING INEXPLICABLE UMBRAGE) YOU ARE MISTAKEN, SIR! I AM FROM CALCUTTA!

SOUND OF THE SINGING CAVALCADE ENTERS CLOSE ENOUGH TO HAVE THEIR CHORUS DECIPHERED AS THEY SEIZE THE ATTENTION OF THE GURU..

GURU: AH! I FOUND IT!

CAVALCADE: DROP IT, DROP IT--COVER IT UP, COVER IT UP--PULL IT UP, PULL IT UP--MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS!

WILLOUGHBY: HEY! A WAGON TRAIN! HEY, ARE YOU GONNA HAVE HORSES TOO?

GURU: (WITH A SENSE OF HIGH PRINCIPLE) OH NO. EVERYBODY PULLS THEIR OWN WAGON WITH ME. I HAVE TAUGHT ALL MY STARS TO BE SELF-RELIANT. THIS IS A VEGETARIAN RODEO.

WILLOUGHBY: WOW, A REAL LIVE RODEO! (EVEN MORE EXCITED AS HE NOTICES RED MAVIS) WITH A REAL LIVE COWBOY!

PROFESSOR: THAT MAN IS A BLACK MAN, WILLOUGHBY.

GURU: THAT MAN IS "RED MAVIS, THE BROWN THRASHER."

PROFESSOR: YOU ARE A BROWN MAN. I AM A WHITE MAN.

WILLOUGHBY: RED, BROWN, BLACK--HE'S A COWBOY, PROFESSOR! LOOK AT HIS HAT!

PROFESSOR: (THINKING HE HAS MADE SOME PROFOUND "COLOR" CONNECTION) "CONCORD WATERS HAVE TWO COLORS AT LEAST", WILLOUGHBY.

CAVALCADE: (CLOSER) DROP IT, DROP IT--COVER IT UP, COVER IT UP--PULL IT UP, PULL IT UP--MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS!

WILLOUGHBY: HEY COME ON, PROFESSOR! IT'S A RODEO!

PROFESSOR: (IN SERIOUS REBUTTAL) "MY PRACTICE IS 'NOWHERE,' MY OPINION IS HERE!"

WILLOUGHBY: WELL, SUIT YOURSELF. I'LL SEE 'YA LATER.

CROWD COMES FULLY INTO FOREGROUND AS A WESTERN QUARTET TAKES THE LEAD TO THE CROWD'S CHORUS.

CAVALCADE: (CLOSER) DROP IT, DROP IT--COVER IT UP, COVER IT UP--PULL IT UP, PULL IT UP--MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS!

PROFESSOR: (DELUSIONAL RANTING IN COUNTERPOINT BETWEEN REFRAINS, AS THOUGH PACING IN MADNESS) HERE, HERE, HERE.

CAVALACADE: MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! (REPEAT ETC.)

QUARTET:

"PLANT THE COMMON WHITE BUSH BEAN

ABOUT THE FIRST OF JUNE

IN ROWS THREE FEET BY EIGHTEEN INCH APART

BE CAREFUL TO SELECT FRESH ROUND

AND [THE] UNMIXED SEED"

CAVALCADE: "DROP IT, DROP IT--COVER IT UP, COVER IT UP--PULL IT UP, PULL IT UP--MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS!

PROFESSOR: (DELUSIONAL RANTING IN COUNTERPOINT BETWEEN REFRAINS) PRACTICE. PRACTICE. PRACTICE.

CAVALACADE: MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! (REPEAT ETC.)

QUARTET:

"FIRST LOOK OUT FOR [ALL THE] WORMS

SUPPLY [SOME] VACANCIES

BY PLANTING ANEW. THEN LOOK OUT FOR WOODCHUCKS

THEY'LL NIBBLE OFF THE TENDER LEAVES

ALMOST CLEAN, AS THEY GO

CAVALCADE: DROP IT, DROP IT--COVER IT UP, COVER IT UP--PULL IT UP, PULL IT UP--MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS!

PROFESSOR: (DELUSIONAL RANTING IN COUNTERPOINT BETWEEN REFRAINS) NO WHERE. NO WHERE. NO WHERE.

CAVALACADE: MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! (REPEAT ETC.)

QUARTET:

WHEN YOUNG TENDRILS DO APPEAR

THEY WILL NOTICE IT

THEY'LL SHEAR THEM OFF WITH BOTH YOUNG BUDS AND PODS

SIT ERECT JUST LIKE A SQUIRREL

ABOVE ALL HARVEST SOON

CAVALCADE: DROP IT, DROP IT--COVER IT UP, COVER IT UP--PULL IT UP, PULL IT UP--MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS!

PROFESSOR: (DELUSIONAL RANTING IN COUNTERPOINT BETWEEN REFRAINS) PINION. PINION. PINION.

CAVALACADE: MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! (REPEAT ETC.)

QUARTET:

AS EARLY AS IS POSSIBLE

YOU'LL ESCAPE THE FROST

HAVE A FAIR AND SALABLE CROP, YOU MAY SAVE MUCH LOSS.

THIS EXPERIENCE I HAVE GAINED,

SO I SAID TO MYSELF:

CAVALCADE: DROP IT, DROP IT--COVER IT UP, COVER IT UP--PULL IT UP, PULL IT UP--MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! (REPEAT)

CROWD CONTINUES THROUGHOUT NEXT SCENE WITH "MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS" COMPLEMENTED WITH TIE-OH'S, TIE-YEA'S, AND OTHER STRAY YEE-HAH'S, PROMINENT AMONG WHICH ARE WILLOUGHBY'S.

RED MAVIS: MIGHTY FINE SINGIN', PARD'NERS! NOW LET'S DISH OUT THOSE BEANS FULL WESTERN STYLE. GATHER ROUND, LITTLE DOGIES!

WILLOUGHBY: RIGHT, PARD'NER! YIPPEE-YIPPEE-OOOOH-TIE-AY!

WILLOUGHBY RUNS OFF AS THE CROWD GATHERS ROUND WITH MURMURS.

SOMEWHERE NEAR THE MIDPOINT OF THE CAVALCADE'S CHANT BELOW, THE PROFESSOR BEGINS TO CHANT "MAKE BEANS" IN ASYNCHRONOUS RHYTHM.

CAVALCADE: (CONTINUING AS BASELINE) MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS! MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS!

RED MAVIS: ALL RIGHT, NOW, PARD'NERS, "PULL IT UP."

CAVALCADE: MAKE... THE.. EARTH... SAY... BEANS! (ALL SHOUT LIKE THE END OF "RAWHIDE THEME") SAY BEANS!!!!

PROFESSOR: BEANS!

CAVALCADE: YAH!

SOUND OF THE CAVALCADE COMES TO A HALT AS THE CHORUS CONCLUDES WITH A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE AND WHISTLES, FINALLY SETTLING DOWN AS RED MAVIS BEGINS HIS ADDRESS.

RED MAVIS: WHEW-WHEE! I BET THE AIR OF THESE WOODS AIN'T HEARD BEANS SUNG THAT WAY FOR LONG TIME!

DOG OWNER: (WITH HIS DISTINCTIVE MASS. ACCENT, STRONGLY SARCASTIC) NO, NOT THAT WAY. THEY USUALLY COME OUT THE OTHER END, GOD SAVE US.

SOUND OF THE TERRISTAS MUMBLING THEIR SUPPORT OF THE DOG OWNER'S HOSTILITY, WHICH THROWS THE GOOD SPIRITS OF THE STARS INTO A BIT OF DISARRAY AND PROMPTS THE PROFESSOR TO SHOUT HIS NEXT LINE.

PROFESSOR: "DAILY THE BEANS SAW ME COME TO THEIR RESCUE ARMED WITH A HOE!"

RED MAVIS: NOW DON'T GO GETTIN' OVER EXCITED THERE, YOU LOCAL "DOGGIES". (SOUNDING A BIT LIKE "LOCO" DOGGIES, BUT CLEARLY TRYING TO BE CONCILIATORY) NO NEED FOR WEAPONS--"JUST RESIST"! AIN'T THAT RIGHT, MAHARISHI?

MAHARISHI: (INANELY GIVING THE MOTTO IN HAPPY SALUTE) "SAY BEANS! SAY BEANS!"

RED MAVIS: (WITH GREAT AND TYPICALLY BOISTEROUS AFFECTION) COME ON UP HERE, YOU OLD CODGER!

GURU: (WITH FALSE MODESTY) OH, NO, NO, NO. I AM WHERE I BELONG. I AM ONLY THE GURU. YOU ARE THE BIG STAR.

RED MAVIS: HOW ABOUT THAT MAHARISHI, HEY FOLKS? CAN YA GET ANY MORE TRANSCENDENTAL THAN THAT?

SOUND OF CROWD APPLAUDING AS ONE OF THE TERRISTAS HECKLES RED FROM THE PERIPHERY OF THE CROWD.

DOG OWNER: NOT IN THIS LIFE, YA DON'T!

THE TERRISTAS AGAIN MUMBLE THEIR THREATENING SUPPORT FOR THE DOG OWNER, WHICH THIS TIME PROMPTS THE STARS TO SHUSH THE TERRISTAS UP IN ANNOYANCE.

GURU: (WITH FALSE MODESTY) OH, NO, NO, NO--PLEASE.

RED MAVIS: AW, HE ALWAYS WAS A BASHFUL ONE. BUT LET ME TELL A STORY ABOUT THIS MAN AND WHAT HE'S DONE FOR ME, RED MAVIS, THE BROWN THRASHER. SURE I'M A BIG WESTERN MOVIE STAR NOW. BUT I USED TO GET PAID TO DRESS UP LIKE A COWBOY AND WRESTLE. THEN I KILLED THE TRANSCENDENTALIST! NOW I AM ONE! THANK YOU, MAHARISHI: GURU TO THE STARS!

THE CROWD APPLAUDS AGAIN TO THE OBVIOUS PLEASURE OF THE GURU.

GURU: (QUITE PLEASED) OH THANK YOU, THANK YOU.

AS THE APPLAUSE FADES A BIT, THE DOG OWNER MARS THE EXPRESSION OF GRATITUDE WITH A STRONGLY HOSTILE SHOUT THAT TURNS THINGS SUDDENLY UGLY.

DOG OWNER: DOG KILLER!

TERRISTAS JOIN THE SOUND PODGE WITH THEIR OWN THREATENING MUMBLES OF SUPPORT FOR THE DOG OWNER.

RED MAVIS: (A BIT NERVOUS AND AWKWARD AT THE HOSTILITY) UH, YEAH, THANK YA', FOLKS. THAT'S NICE O' YA'. THANK 'YA... (REGAINING HIS BRAVADO) AN' I ALSO WANT TO THANK THE ACADEMY FOR NAMING "THE BROWN THRASHER" --(APPLAUSE, WHICH HE AWKWARDLY ACKNOWLEDGES FOR A MOMENT, HALF EXPECTING MORE HOSTILITY FROM THE LOCALS, THEN RECOVERING HIS ROUSING SPIRIT)... ER, THANK YA, THANK YA--"THE BROWN THRASHER" THIS YEAR'S "WAGON MASTER" FOR THE ANNUAL "MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS" CAVALCADE OF STARS.

MORE APPLAUSE, MINGLED AGAIN WITH DARKER NOTES OF GRUMBLING. OVER IT ALL CAN BE HEARD FIRST THE NOW WORRIED GURU AND THEN THE PROFESSOR CALLING OUT IN HIS HALLUCINATION.

GURU: UH-OH. (CLEARLY PLANNING ON ESCAPE)

PROFESSOR: (WANDERING ABOUT IN AGITATION) "LOOK ROUND FOR A WOODCHUCK, OR A SKUNK!" OH BE QUIET CHIPPY!

CROWD SOUNDS BREAKS DOWN MORE FULLY INTO THREATENING GRUMBLES OF THE TERRISTAS AND THE PERPLEXED, ANXIOUS MURMURS OF THE STARS AS AN UGLY CONFLICT APPEARS TO BE IMMINENT..

RED MAVIS: (NERVOUSLY, DESPERATELY TRYING TO REFOCUS THE CROWD UPON HIS CAUSE) ER-UH, UH, THAT'S RIGHT, PARD'NER--SAY BEANS. SAY BEANS! I RECKON IT'S ABOUT TIME HOLLYWOOD GAVE THE "WEST" ITS DUE, RIGHT? SO LET'S GIVE 'EM ALL THE PIONEERING SPIRIT WE CAN MUSTER, HEY PARD'NERS? AS OLD "HANK" THOREAU WOULD HAVE SAID, "WHETHER THEY MEAN PORRIDGE OR VOTING" WE ARE HERE "DETERMINED TO KNOW BEANS."

VOICE FROM CROWD: YEAH, "MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS!"

ANOTHER VOICE: YEAH. SAY BEANS!

DOG OWNER: AH, BLOW IT OUT.... (DROWNED OUT BY THE CHANTING CROWD)

CROWD: SAY BEANS, SAY BEANS, ETC.

PROFESSOR: (PICKING UP THE CHANT ONLY PARTIALLY) SAY, SAY, SAY, SAY, SAY.

CROWD APPLAUDS AND WHISTLES IN CONCERTED COUNTERACTION TO THE RUMBLING THREATS OF THE DOG OWNER AND THE TERRISTAS--ALL OF WHICH HEARTENS RED MAVIS TO ALMOST EVANGELICAL HEIGHTS.

RED MAVIS: YOU'RE DARN TOOTIN', SAY BEANS. YOU'RE THE SEEDS 'A BEANS--"BROADCAST AND FLOATIN' IN THE AIR," IN OLD HANK'S WORDS, TO SIMULCAST LOCALES 'ROUND THE WORLD! YOU'RE THE BEANSTALK!

MIXTURE OF EVER MORE INTENSE APPLAUSE AND GRUMBLES AS THE TWO SIDES EDGE CLOSER TO CONFLICT. SOUNDS OF WILLOUGHBY'S DOGS BEGIN TO BE HEARD IN THE DISTANCE.

RED MAVIS: THAT'S RIGHT, THE BEAN'S TALK. AND NOW, THIS HERE SPREAD'S FINALLY YOUR BEAN FIELD--TWO AND HALF ACRES OF THE MOST TRANSCENDENTAL DIRT ON EARTH AND HOME OF THE BEST IDEA THAT EVER MADE ITS WAY INTO OLD HANK'S HEAD--BOUGHT AND PAID FOR WITH YOUR DONATIONS AND PRESERVED IN PER-PET-TOOITY, THE TRANSCENDENTAL TRUST FOR THE "MAKE THE EARTH SAY BEANS" CAMPAIGN!

CROWD APPLAUDS WILDLY WITH ROUNDUP WHISTLES AND YEE-HAH'S AS WILLOUGHBY RETURNS HERDING HIS PACK OF DOGS LIKE A COWBOY FROM LEFT SPEAKER. AT THE SAME TIME, THE ANGRY TERRISTAS FINALLY MAKE THEIR BOGGEST MOVE IN A MEAN GRUMBLE.

WILLOUGHBY: YEE-HAH! GET ALONG LITTLE DOGGIES! PULL THAT SLED! COVER THAT UP! DROP THAT! IT'S A RODEO!

PROFESSOR: "THAT'S ROMAN WORMWOOD! THAT'S PIGWEED!"

DOG OWNER: THAT'S MY DOG! GRAB THAT KID!

MOTHER TERRISTA: GET 'EM, GIRLS!

CAVALCADE CROWD TURNS IN CONFUSED MURMUR AS THE WOMEN GRAB WILLOUGHBY IN A STRUGGLE.

WILLOUGHBY: HEY! LEMME GO! THIS IS A RODEO! HEY! DON'T UNTIE THOSE DOGS! (DOGS SCATTERING OFF) THIS IS A RODEO!

DOG OWNER: (RUNNING AFTER THE DOGS) CINNAMON! CINNAMON!

WILLOUGHBY: HEEEYYYY! (CHOKING) YOU'RE CHOKING ME! GET THIS LEASH OFF MY NECK!

RED MAVIS: NOW HOLD ON THERE, PARD'NERS. THERE'S NO NEED FOR VIOLENCE. WE DON'T WANT NO TROUBLE FROM YOU LOCAL FOLK! "JUST RESIST!"

SUDDENLY, WILLOUGHBY'S RECENTLY COMPLETED CABIN EXPLODES, TO THE PANIC OF EVERYONE.

WILLOUGHBY: (ULTIMATELY PISSED) HEEEEYYYYYY!!!! THAT'S.. MY... CABIN!

PROFESSOR: (RHAPSODIC) "THE ROOF WAS THE SOUNDEST PART."

MOTHER TERRISTA: (WITH FRENCH ACCENT) THAT'S JUST A WARNING.

RED MAVIS: NOW HOLD ON THERE, GRANNY!

MOTHER TERRISTA: HOW TIGHTLY DO YOU WANT ME TO HOLD?

SOUND OF RED BENDING OVER IN AGONY AS GRANNY GRABS HIS NUTS IN VICE GRIP. HE CONTINUES TO GROAN IN VARYING INTENSITY THROUGHOUT THE REMAINING LINES.

RED MAVIS: OHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! MY EVER-LOVIN ACORNS! LEMME GO, WOMAN!

MOTHER TERRISTA: (PLEASED WITH HERSELF) I USED TO WRESTLE MYSELF. I'M ALSO WEARING EXPLOSIVES.

WILLOUGHBY: EX-PLOSGGGGHHHHHH (INFLECTED LIKE A QUESTION CHOKED OFF BY HIS CAPTORS)

SOUND OF WILLOUGHBY CHOKING CONTINUES THROUGHOUT THE REMAINING LINES.

PROFESSOR: "EACH STICK WAS CAREFULLY MORTISED."

MOTHER TERRISTA: TEN OF THEM, TO BE PRECISE--TEN PER GIRL, THAT IS.

PROFESSOR: TEN, TEN, TEN.

MOTHER TERRISTA: (SHARPLY, HER PATIENCE AND MALICIOUS HUMOR HAVING SUDDENLY WORN OUT) ONE FALSE MOVE, AND I WILL BLOW UP ANOTHER ONE.

GURU: EVERYBODY! DON'T RESIST!

SOUND OF RED'S GROAN GROWS A LITTLE LOUDER.

GURU: WE SURRENDER! WHAT DO YOU WANT?

MOTHER TERRISA: WE WANT ANIMAL RIGHTS.

GIRL TERRORISTS: (CHANTING) PETS NOT FOOD! PETS NOT FOOD! (REPEAT)

PROFESSOR: (JOINING IN) FOOD NOT PESTS. FOOD NOT PESTS. FOOD NOT PESTS. (REPEAT)

MOTHER TERRISTA: GRAB THAT ID-EE-OTT.

SOUND OF THE GIRLS GRABBING THE PROFESSOR AS HE ABBREVIATES CHANT TO A STRUGGLING, HUFFING "PESTS... PESTS.... PESTS" UNDERNEATH THE FOLLOWING LINES.

GURU: NO, NO, PLEASE. THERE'S NO NEED TO BLOW UP! (NOW WITH A MORE RECONGIZABLY MEXICAN INFLECTION) YOU CAN HAVE NEXT YEAR'S CAVALCADE!!

MOTHER TERRISTA: YOU DON'T HAVE ANY ANIMALS. WE WANT THESE TWO.

GURU: YOU WANT THEM? THEY'RE NOT STARS: I JUST MET THEM. TAKE HIM. THAT'S RED MAVIS--HE'S A STAR. HE'S A GOOD HOSTAGE.

MOTHER TERRISTA: WELL THEN YOU KEEP HIM. (SOUND OF RED BEING RELEASED AND DROPPING TO THE GROUND WITH A GROAN OF RELIEF.) (DOWN) HE IS CERTAINLY NOT MUCH OF A WREST-LEHR.

GURU: RED, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? YOU LOOK REAL BAD.

RED MAVIS GROANS IN EXCRUCIATING PAIN.

GURU: OH BOY, HE'S TURNIN' RED! COME ON, ALL YOU STARS! HELP ME GET HIM INTO THE WAGON. (IMPATIENT WITH THEIR SLOWNESS AND INEPTITUDE, AND SOUNDING MORE MEXICAN THAN EVER) COME ON! PICK HIM UP, PICK HIM UP!

SOUND OF THE STARS EXERTING THEMSELVES AS RED MOANS.

GURU: (STILL IMPATIENT) OKAY, NOW. COVER HIM UP, COVER HIM UP! (BEAT) NOW PULL! LET'S GET OUT OF THIS LOCO PLACE. (SOUNDING VERY MEXICAN WITH THIS LAST LINE) ANDELAY, ANDELAY!

SOUNDS OF CREAKY WAGONS MOVING ON OUT, MIXED IN WITH RED'S LINGERING GROANS AND THE GURU'S REPEATED INJUNCTIONS, WHICH ASSUME THE RHTHYM OF A CALL TO GALLEY SLAVES ROWING AN ANCIENT ROMAN SHIP OF WAR.

GURU: PULL! (BEAT) PULL! (BEAT) ETC.

THE WAGON TRAIN FADES OFF INTO THE DISTANCE TO THE GURU'S "PULL", UP UNDER WHICH (AND IN ALTERNATE COUNTERPOINT) COMES THE PROFESSOR'S OWN HALLUCINOGENIC CHANT, OBVIOUSLY STARTED AS A SORT OF RESPONSE TO THE GURU..

PROFESSOR: (LOOKING SOMEWHAT WISTFULLY OFF AT THE DEPARTING CAVALCADE, WITH ALMOST THE INFLECTION OF A QUESTION) BEANS... BEANS... BEANS... (REPEAT).

WILLOUGHBY: (GAGGING MUCH LIKE THE PROFESSOR EARLIER ON) BNEUUAGGHHHHHG.....

PROFESSOR: (CONTINUING NOW AFTER THE GURU'S CALL HAS ENTIRELY FADED OUT) BEANS?.... BEANS.... BEANS... ETC.

MOTHER TERRISTA: YOU! OLD MAN--I DO NOT LIKE YOUR "BEANS." ERRGGH!

SOUND OF MOTHER TERRISTA GRABBING THE PROFESSOR'S NUTS IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS SPEECH.

PROFESSOR: BEANS.... BEEE-- OH MY!!!!!!!!, (IN A HIGHER REGISTER) BEANS, BEANS, BEANS, BEANS, (TRAILING OFF INTO A TENSE PANTING OF PAIN)

MOTHER TERRISTA: SAY NO MORE BEANS OR I WILL PULL THEM OFF!

THE PROFESSOR FINALLY, PAINFULLY CEASES WITH A TREMENDOUS SELF-CONTROL AND THEN, WHEN RELEASED, A WEAK GROAN AND A AUDIBLE FALL TO THE GROUND AS MOTHER TERRISTA'S GIRL COMMANDOS GIGGLE WITH AMUSEMENT AT THE SPECTACLE.

PROFESSOR: EEAAANNNSSSERRRRRRRRUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHH........ (RELEASED) OHHHHHHHHHH...... (FALLS TO GROUND AND TO ACCOMPANIMENT OF GIRLISH TITTERS)

MOTHER TERRISTA: (TURNING TO WILLOUGHBY) AND YOU, YOU SNOTTY LITTLE BOY. YOU LIKE GRABBING DOGS, DO YOU?

SOUND OF MOTHER TERRISTA GRABBING WILLOUGHBY'S NUTS.

WILLOUGHBY: OH, OH! (HOWLS LIKE A DOG) OH, OH, OHOOOOHHH! (FINALLY RELEASED AND FALLING TO THE GROUND WITH A DOG-LIKE WHIMPER, WHICH JOINS THE PROFESSOR'S RESIDUAL SOUNDS OF PAIN AS THE TWO CONTINUE UNDER THE LASH OF MOTHER TERRISTA'S LAST REMARKS) HIMMMMMMM.... HIMMMMMMM....

MOTHER TERRISTA: (PLEASED WITH HER SUPERIORITY AND HRUMPHING WITH AMUSED PRIDE) JUST A LITTLE "TAG-TEAM" HOLD I LEARNED FROM "THE TRANSCENDENTALIST." I ALWAYS SHOW IT OFF TO MY GIRLS AFTER A MISSION LIKE THIS. (GIRLISH GIGGLES) A GOOD LESSON FOR YOU TOO, NO? (TURNING FEROCIOUSLY SERIOUS) BUT NOT THE ONLY ONE YOU NEED. COME ON, GIRLS. PICK THEM UP. AND TIE THEM TO THE SLEDS. IT'S TIME TO GO. (SOUNDS OF SLED HARNESS AND TRACES BEING APPLIED TO W AND P AS MOTHER T CONTINUES WITH MEAN SARCASM) I THINK I HEAR "WINTER’S WINDS HOWLING." DON'T YOU, GIRLS? (BEAT, AS W WHINES, P GROANS, AND GIRLS GIGGLE) THERE YOU ARE. (TURNING REALLY VICIOUS) NOW EAT DIRT, YOU DOGS! AND PULL!

WHIP LASH. W&P HOWL AND GRUNT AS SLED IS PULLED OUT OF SCENE AND OFF INTO THE DISTANCE TO MOTHER TERRISTA'S "PULL!" AND REPEATED WHIP SNAPS, ALL OF WHICH PROVOKES THE TITTERING AMUSEMENT OF MOTHER T'S GIRLS. AS THE SOUNDS FADE OFF, UP COMES THE SQUAWKING VOICE OF CHIPPY FOR THE EPILOGUE.

CHIPPY: SQUAWK!! "METHINKS THIS WOULD EXERCISE THEIR MINDS AS MUCH AS MATHEMATICS" (BEAT. CHIPPY’S VOICE BEGINS TO FADE AS CLOSING THEME MUSIC COMES UP.) "IF I WISHED A BOY TO KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT THE ARTS AND SCIENCES, FOR INSTANCE, I WOULD NOT PURSUE THE COMMON COURSE, WHICH IS TO MERELY SEND THEM INTO THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF SOME PROFESSOR..."