THE VARIABLE WILLOUGHBY

(AMUCK IN THE WORLDS)

1994, ROBERT CIRASA AND JOSEPH BEVILACQUA

EPISODE 16: "SAY JACQUES" OR "SHE’S GOT KNEE PADS"

OPEN ON SOUNDS OF OPEN AIR CAFE IN THE FRENCH STYLE, WITH ACCORDION RIFFS AND SONOROUS FRENCH BEING MUMBLED IN THE BACKGROUND ALONG WITH THE MURMURS OF A FEEDING PIGEON FLOCK, WHICH SUDDENLY BREAKS UP INTO FLIGHT WITH A MASS OF WING PULSES AS A METRONOMIC DING-DONGING SCHOOL BELL ANNOUNCES THE ENTRANCE OF MARCHING GIRLS IN PROCESSION BEHIND MOTHER TERRISTA, SINGING "FRERE JACQUES" AS THEY ENTER THE CAMPUS PLAZA OF MOTHER TERRISTA’S GIRLS ACADEMY FOR GETTING EVEN, LOCATED UPON THE ISLAND RETREAT OF THE AFOREMENTIONED MOTHER TERRISTA, REPUTED TO BE A WIDOW OF DR. NO.

GIRLS: FRERE JACQUES, FRERE JACQUES

WHERE ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU?

WHAT YOU ARE THIS MORNING?

A DOGGY AT A TABLE.

SIT AND STAY.

SIT AND STAY.

 

FRERE JACQUES, FRERE JACQUES

WHERE ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU?

WHAT ARE YOU THIS THIS NOON-TIME?

A PAINTER AND A PLUMBER.

FIX THE CAR.

FIX THE CAR.

 

FRERE JACQUES, FRERE JACQUES

WHERE ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU?

WHAT ARE YOU THIS EVENING?

A SISSY OR A BULLY?

RUN AWAY.

RUN AWAY

RUN AWAY ..... ETC. (MANY TIMES)

AS THE GIRLS COME TO A CLOSE, SOME BAYING BARKS, WHINES, AND HOWLS THAT ARE CLEARLY HUMAN IMITATIONS OF THE REAL CANINE THING CAN BE HEARD JOINING HIM UNTIL THE FINAL "RUN AWAY" COMES ALONG WITH A CESSATION OF THE METRONOMIC BELL AND THE APPROVING COMMENDATION OF MOTHER TERRISTA.

MOTHER TERRISTA: (IN HER THICK AND SULTRY FRENCH ACCENT) AH, EXCELLENT, GIRLS—IN THE BEST TRADITION OF "MOTHER TERRISTA’S GIRLS ACADEMY FOR GETTING EVEN." YOU’RE TURNING INTO FINE YOUNG LADIES. WHY YOU’LL BE QUITE THE PERFECT DOG TRAINERS IN NO TIME, DON’T YOU AGREE NO. 36?

NO. 36: OH YES, MOTHER TERRISTA. THEY CERTAINLY HAVE THE WRISTS FOR IT.

MOTHER TERRISTA: AND YOU, NUMBER 6--WOULDN’T YOU SAY SO?

NO. 6: (WITH MC GOOHAN’S SMILING IRONY) OF COURSE, NO. 2--THERE’S NOTHING MORE COMELY THAN A LADY’S WRIST, ESPECIALLY WRAPPED WITH A LEASH. WOULD YOU LADIES JOIN US FOR SOME CHOCOLATE? I HAVE INFLUENCE WITH THE "MATER" D’.

SOUND OF THE GIRLS TITTERING WITH EXCITEMENT AT BOTH THE PROSPECTIVE REFRESHMENT AND NO. 6’S MANLY APPEAL.

MOTHER TERRISTA: (SHARPLY) GIRLS! (RINGING A SMALLER BELL FOR THEIR ATTENTION)

THE GIRLS GROW IMMEDIATELY SILENT WITH FEAR AND OBEDIENCE.

MOTHER TERRISTA: (SWEETLY AGAIN AND PATIENTLY INSTRUCTIVE) WE NEVER TAKE REFRESHMENT WITH ... DOGS.

BEFORE "DOGS," THERE IS A QUICK BEAT AND SHIFT TO DISPARAGING DOWN INFLECTION, CLEARLY AIMED AT NO. 2 AS PART OF THEIR BATTLE OF VERBAL INDIRECTION.

NO. 6: (WITH MOCK SHOCK) NO. 36! I BELIEVE YOU HAVE COMMITTED AN IRREGULARITY WITH YOUR PETS.

NO. 36: THEY’RE NOT QUITE YET PETS, NO. 6. SOME TAKE LONGER AT STAGE ONE. SURELY YOU REMEMBER.

MOTHER TERRISTA: OF COURSE, I HAVE EVERY CONFIDENCE IN YOU, NO. 36. GIRLS, YOU’LL FIND NO BETTER MODEL ON THE ISLAND—IF YOU APPLY YOURSELVES. ONE DOES NOT BECOME A LADY BY SIMPLY DRINKING COCOA IN THE PLAZA. LADIES TRAIN THEIR ANIMALS TO BEHAVE APPROPRIATELY AT TABLE AND IN PUBLIC PLACES. COME NOW GIRLS! YOUR STUDIES... AWAIT.

SOUND OF THE GIRLS PROCESSING OFF SINGING FRERE JACQUES AGAIN. VAGUELY HEARD IN THE MIX ARE THE MILD WHIMPERS OF DOG BEGGING EMITTED FROM WILLOUGHBY AND THE PROFESSOR, WHO ARE OBVIOUSLY CONSIDERABLY ALONG IN THEIR SUBMISSION TRAINING.

NO. 36: LIVER TREATS FOR YOU, NO. 6?

NO. 6: I NEVER BEG BEFORE DINNER, THANK YOU.

NO. 36: WELL THEN, THAT’S ALL THE MORE FOR YOU, MY PUPPIES.

PROFESSOR: WHY, THANK YOU MADAM.

NO. 36: SPEAK PROPERLY, YOU DOG.

PROFESSOR: OH, YES, OF COURSE. (WHINES) HIMMMM... HIMMMM....

NO. 36: THAT’S A GOOD PUPPY. YES, YES, SUCH A GOOOOOD PUPPY.

NO. 6: (WITH SARCASTIC DISDAIN) YES, VERY GOOD. FOR A BALD MAN.

PROFESSOR: (WITH VERY INEPT WHINE AND BARK) HIMMM, HIMMM, WOOF, WOOF! (ASIDE) BARK, WILLOUGHBY, BARK. GIVE HER WHAT SHE WANTS.

SOUND OF NO. 36 THROWING THE PROFESSOR HIS TREATS AND THE PROFESSOR GOBBLING THEM DOWN, DOG-STYLE, UNDERNEATH DIALOGUE.

WILLOUGHBY: SHE’LL HAVE TO GO TO A POUND TO GET WHAT SHE WANTS, PROFESSOR. I DON’T EAT LIVER FOR ANYONE.

NO. 6: (SMUGLY) BOYS WILL BOYS, HEY 36?

NO. 36: BAD DOG!

SOUND OF A NEWSPAPER WHACK ON WILLOUGHBY’S NOSE.

WILLOUGHBY: OUCH! (WHINING INADVERTENTLY LIKE A DOG WITH THE SMART) HIMMMMMMMM... MY NOSE! HIMMMM.... HIMMMM....

NO. 36: GOOOOOODDDD, PUPPY! NOW, HERE’S YOUR LIVER.

PROFESSOR: (LEAPING TO SNATCH THE TREAT FROM IN FRONT OF WILLOUGHBY) WOOF! SNATCH!

NO. 36: OH! BAAAADDDD DOG! DROP IT! YOU’VE HAD YOUR TREAT ALREADY!

SOUNDS OF 36 WHACKING THE CRAP OUT OF THE PROFESSOR AS HE WHINES.

PROFESSOR: OOFFF! OWWW! OHHHH!

WILLOUGHBY: LET HIM EAT IT; I DON’T WANT IT!

NO. 36: YOU HUNGRY LITTLE MONGREL, YOU’VE SWALLOWED EVERYTHING.

NO. 6: AND MEN WILL BE MEN, EH, 36?

36 STOPS BEATING THE PROFESSOR AND RETURNS HER ATTENTION TO NO. 6.

NO. 36: NOT YET, NO. 6. THAT’S STAGE TWO. YOU REMEMBER STAGE TWO, DON’T YOU NO. 6?

NO. 6: I NEVER FORGET A STAGE, 36. STAGE ONE: TABLE-BEGGING, THEN BATH.

NO. 36: VERY ACCURATE, NO. 6. DO YOU WANT YOUR BATH NOW, MY PUPPIES? ARE YOU SCRATCHING? DO YOU HAVE FLEAS? (WITH CONDESCENDING EXAGGERATION) LET ME SEE. ON YOUR BACK AND BELLY UP NOW.

SOUNDS OF 36 PUSHING BACK HER CHAIR, THROWING THE PROFESSOR OVER ONTO HIS BACK, LIFTING HIS SHIRT, AND INSPECTING HIS BELLY WHILE THE PROFESSOR EMITS A STRANGE MIXTURE OF DOG WHIMPERS AND PROFESSOR "OH-MY’S."

PROFESSOR: WHOOAAA... UMPFH! HIMMMMM....HIMMMM.....OH-MY....HIMMMM... HIMMM....

WILLOUGHBY: DON’T LET HER ROLL YA ON YOUR BACK LIKE THAT, PROFESSOR! BITE HER!

PROFESSOR: DISOBEDIENCE WILL ONLY RETARD OUR PROGRESS, WILLOUGHBY.... OH, NO, PLEASE! MADAM 36! DO NOT UNBLOUSE ME!.... DOMESTICATION, WILLOUGHBY (GIGGLING)--DOMESTICATION IS STAGE ONE!... OH, MY! NO! (GIGGLE) NOT THERE! I’M VERY TICKLISH ON MY BELLY! (ALL OUT LAUGH)

WILLOUGHBY: (DISGUSTED, SOTTO) GEEZE, WHAT A MUTT.

NO. 36: YOU DO HAVE FLEAS! YOU’LL NEED A DIP. YOU DIRTY DOG! (TURNING TO WILLOUGHBY) AND HOW ABOUT YOU, PUPPY.

WILLOUGHBY: I DON’T EAT DIP EITHER!

NO. 36: (WITH CONDESCENDING EXAGGERATION) NOW LET ME SEE.

WILLOUGHBY GROWLS LIKE A DOG AND SNAPS AT NO. 36, BITING HER LEG.

WILLOUGHBY: GR-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-CRUNCH!!

NO. 36: OUCH!!!

NO. 6: (MIMICKING AND MOCKING NO. 36’S TONE) THAT’S A GOOD PUPPY. YES, YES, SUCH A GOOOOOD PUPPY.

PROFESSOR: WILLOUGHBY! BEHAVE YOURSELF!

NO. 36: OH, YOU VICIOUS BRUTE! IT’S THE CHOKE CHAIN FOR YOU NOW!

SOUND OF WILLOUGHBY BEING COLLARED AND CHOKED UNDERNEATH HER NEXT LINE..

NO. 36: (SHARPLY) GIVE ME YOUR HEAD! (BEAT) THERE. AND NOW FOR YOUR LITTER MATE AS WELL.

PROFESSOR: REALLY, MADAM 36--(CHOKING)--A SIMPLE "HEEL" WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.

NO. 6: YOU’VE BEEN TUTORED, NO. 36.

NO. 36: AND YOU’VE BEEN TRAINED, HAVEN’T YOU, SIX? NOW TAKE THEIR LEADS AND FOLLOW ME.

NO. 6: IS IT TIME FOR WALKIES? COME GOOD FRIENDS. IT’S THE DIP FOR YOU.

SEQUE TO NEXT SCENE WITH FADING OF CAFE BACKGROUND NOISES. COME UP ON SPLASHING SOUNDS OF W CHOKING AS HE IS PULLED FROM HIS FLEA BATHS DRIPPING WET.

WILLOUGHBY: (COUGHING AND CATCHING HIS BREATH) I HATE BATHS!

SOUND OF WILLOUGHBY SHAKING HIMSELF OUT LIKE A DOG, WITH THE UNSUAL SOUND OF TAGS JINGLING.

PROFESSOR: WILLOUGHBY, THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL BATH. A FLEA DIP IS A MEDICINAL TREATMENT FOR THE REMOVAL OF VERMIN. (EXPLAINING TO NO. 36) PLEASE EXCUSE HIS AVERSION TO HYGIENE , MADAM NO. 36. HE’S ONLY A BOY.

NO. 36: NOW FOR YOU.

SOUNDS OF HER HEAVING THE PROFESSOR INTO THE DIP WITH A SPLASH.

PROFESSOR: OH MY!

NO. 36: UNDER YOU GO. (WITH SADISTIC HUMOR) AND STAY.

NO. 6: IMPRESSIVE WRISTS, THIRTY SIX. YOU COULD KEEP A MAN DOWN FOR DAYS, I’LL BET.

SOUNDS OF THE PROFESSOR GURGLING AND STRUGGLING IN THE WATER.

WILLOUGHBY: HUH! HE’LL STAY DOWN THERE FOR WEEKS! HE LOVES BATHS!

NO. 36: (WITH SOME SEXUAL INNUENDO) HOW LONG CAN YOU STAY DOWN, SIX?

NO. 6: HOW LONG CAN YOU?

GRABBING 36’S HEAD WITH JAMES BOND-LIKE SKILL AND SPEED, 6 DUNKS HER UNDER WITH A LADY-LIKE "OH! HELP!" FROM HER. THEN, SHE BEGINS TO THRASH AND GURGLE ABOUT ALONG WITH THE PROFESSOR, WHOM SHE FINALLY DOES RELEASE FROM HER OWN WEAKENED HOLD AS SHE CEASES TO STRUGGLE AND FINALLY DROWNS.. TIME PASSES AS WILLOUGHBY OBSERVES THE THRASHING SPECTACLE WHILE CONVERSING WITH NO. 6, WHO COOLLY EXECUTES THE DEED.

WILLOUGHBY: WOW. WAS THAT JUDO OR SOMETHIN’? YOU DUNKED HER HEAD INTO THAT TUB LIKE A BASKETBALL.

NO. 6: (WITH HIS TYPICAL SMUG HUMOR) MORE LIKE A DONUT IN A CUP O’ COFFEE... OR SHOULD I SAY ‘HOT CHOCOLATE.’

SOUND OF 36 GIVING A SPURT OF FLAILING RESISTANCE, TO WHICH 6 RESPONDS WITH SOME EXTRA EFFORT.

NO. 6: (WITH TIGHTENED VOICE OF HIS EXTRA EFFORT AND EVEN MORE MORDANT HUMOR) NO, NO, MY DEAR THIRTY-SIX—LADIES STAY DOWN LONGER THAN THAT.

WILLOUGHBY: BOY, YOU HAVE STRONG WRISTS. AND SO DOES SHE. (BEAT, AS WE HEAR THE SPLASHING STRUGGLE) DO YOU THINK SHE’LL EVER LET THE PROFESSOR COME UP?

NO. 6: OH, I THINK HE’LL BE SURFACING SOON.

SOUNDS OF THE STRUGGLE BEGIN TO SUBSIDE AND CEASE ALTOGETHER. NO. 6 REMOVES HIS DRIPPING FOREARMS FROM THE BATH, AND AFTER A BEAT, THE PROFESSOR BREAKS THE SURFACE LIKE A BREACHING SEA MAMMAL, COUGHING, GASPING, AND SPUTTERING.

PROFESSOR: BLAGGHH, GASP, GASP, GAG, SPIT, GAG, ETC.

THE PROFESSOR FINALLY RECOVERS HIS BREATH, INHALING AND EXHALING HEAVILY, AS WILLOUGHBY LOOKS ON IN BOYISH ADMIRATION.

WILLOUGHBY: BOY, PROFESSOR, YOU GOT REALLY... STRONG... LUNGS.

PROFESSOR: (CHOKING AND SPITING WATER, THEN BREATHLESS) MY SURVIVAL... CANNOT BE CREDITED SOLELY.... TO MY LUNGS... WILLOUGHBY. WERE IT NOT... FOR THE CAPACIOUS.... CHAMBERS... OF MY JOWLS... I WOULD LONG... AGO... HAVE SUCCUMBED TO... THE OXYGEN... DEPRIVATION... COMMONLY ASSOCIATED... WITH DROWNING. (COUGHING AND GAGGING)

SOUND OF THE PROFESSOR HAVING TO REGAIN HIS BREATH ALL OVER AGAIN AFTER HIS VERBOSE RESPONSE.

NO. 6: I’M AFRAID NO. 36 CANNOT SAY THE SAME FOR HERSELF.

WILLOUGHBY: NOBODY COULD SAY THAT BUT THE PROFESSOR.

PROFESSOR: WILLOUGHBY HE... MEANS... SHE HAS DROWNED.

WILLOUGHBY: (IMPRESSED) HEY YOU’RE PRETTY HANDY.

NO. 6: THANK YOU.

PROFESSOR: MR. NO. 6, NOW THAT I CAN SPEAK FREELY... (BEAT) AS A MAN... MAY I ASK YOU TO BE MORE OBEDIENT TO THE WISHES OF OUR MISTRESSES IN FUTURE? IT IS ESSENTIAL THAT WE PROCEED EXPEDITIOUSLY TO STAGE THREE OF OUR CONDITIONING IF WE ARE EVER TO ESCAPE THIS SCHOOL.

NO. 6: STAGE THREE? NOCTURNAL BLISS? SORRY. YOU’LL HAVE TO GET THERE ON YOUR OWN. I’M NOT TOO GOOD AT IT; I’VE TOO MUCH "DREAM DISCIPLINE." (WITH A NOTE OF GUARDED IRONY) ASK NO. 2.

SOUND OF DOOR OPENING, AS NO. 6 TURNS TO RECOGNIZED THE ENTRANCE OF A NEW WOMAN WARDER, NO. 37, WHO IS OF A TYPE WITH NO. 36.

NO. 6: OR NO. 37 HERE.

WILLOUGHBY: OH, NO—NOT ANOTHER LADY. I GUESS IT’S BACK TO BEGGING.

NO. 37: (GERMAN ACCENT) AH, NO. 6--UP TO YOUR OLD TRICKS AGAIN? NO. 2 WILL BE UPSET WITH YOU. SHE WAS ESPECIALLY FOND OF THIRTY-SIX—NOT LIKE THE NUMBERS BEFORE HER. WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TO START WATCHING YOU MORE CLOSELY. OTHERWISE, THESE TWO WILL NEVER MAKE IT TO STAGE THREE—ISN’T THAT RIGHT, BOY? (BEAT) GO AHEAD, BOY—SPEAK!

WILLOUGHBY: OH YEA... RUFF, RUFF! BARK, BARK!

NO. 37: SPEAK PROPERLY. YOU’VE HAD YOUR BATH. NOW DOWN ON YOUR KNEES, BOTH OF YOU: THE BASEBOARD NEEDS PAINTING.

NO. 6: AH, STAGE TWO: HOUSEHOLD CHORES AND FIXING THE CAR, I BELIEVE. I HOPE YOU CHAPS ARE HANDY. I’VE A TOOL BELT SOMEWHERE IF YOU NEED IT.

WILLOUGHBY: A TOOL BELT?! WITH A HAMMER HOLSTER?

PROFESSOR: (EAGER TO PLEASE) PLEASE WILLOUGHBY, THIS IS NO TIME TO INDULGE YOUR FETISH. GRAB A BRUSH BEFORE WE’RE DISCIPLINED! ER, MADAM NO. THIRTY-ERRR... SEVEN? MAY I ASK WHAT COLOR YOU PREFER FOR THE TRIM? AND FOR THE FINISH—GLOSS, SEMI-GLOSS, SATIN, OR FLAT?

NO. 6: AH, THAT WAS QUICK APPRENTICESHIP, THIRTY-SEVEN. YOU’RE QUITE A CHOREMASTER.

NO. THIRTY-SEVEN: COTTAGE DISREPAIR IS NOT PERMISSIBLE IN THE VILLAGE. FLAT WHITE FOR PRIME; BUTTERMILK SATIN FOR FINISH. AND DON’T SCHMOOTCH THE WALL.

PROFESSOR: YES, DEAR... I MEAN, MA’AM... ER, MADAM NO. SIX / SEVEN (INSTANTLY CORRECTING HIMSELF AND MAKING A NEW NUMBER IN THE PROCESS). UH, NOW MOVE ALONG, WILLOUGHBY. YOU CRAWL THAT WAY, AND I’LL CRAWL THIS WAY. WE’LL MEET ON THE OPPOSITE WALL. AND PLEASE DO BE CAREFUL WITH YOUR SPLATTER.

WILLOUGHBY: OH, ALL RIGHT. BUT LET ME USE YOUR BRUSH. THIS ONE’S GOT SPLIT ENDS.

PROFESSOR: VERY WELL, WILLOUGHBY. HERE.

WILLOUGHBY: THANKS. (SLOP, SLOP OF PAINT) THERE. THAT’S BETTER. (BEAT) HEY, IF I’M NOT DOG ANYMORE, HOW COME I’LL STILL ON MY KNEES?

NO. 6: BECAUSE NOW YOU’RE A HANDY... MAN.

(SOUND OF SLOPPING PAINT AROUND FOR A MOMENT.)

PROFESSOR: BE SURE TO LAY THE PAINT ON ALONG THE GRAIN OF WOOD, SO THAT THE PIGMENT WITH BLEED EVENLY.

WILLOUGHBY: OUCH. THERE’S NAILS STICKING OUTTA THE FLOOR. BOY THIS PLACE REALLY IS A SHAMBLES. HEY, YA GOT ANY KNEE PADS?

NO. 37: (AS A COMMAND) UNDER THE SINK.

WILLOUGHBY: HOLD ON A MINUTE, PROFESSOR. SHE’S GOT KNEE PADS.

(WILLOUGHBY GETS UP, GOES TO THE SINK.)

WILLOUGHBY: OH, AW, MY KNEES. (STANDING UP) AH, THAT’S BETTER. (OPENS CABINET) HEY THERE’S NOTHIN' UNDER HERE.

NO. 37: FIX THE LEAK.

WILLOUGHBY: WITH A PAINT BRUSH?

PROFESSOR: (IMPATIENTLY) USE A WRENCH, WILLOUGHBY

WILLOUGHBY: I’M A PAINTER, NOT A PLUMBER, PROFESSOR.

NO. 6: HERE. USE MINE.

WILLOUGHBY: GEE THANKS. A MONKEY WRENCH! BOY IS IT HEAVY. I BET YOU COULD CRACK A COUPLE’A COCONUTS WITH THIS, HEH! (DROPS IT ON LINOLEUM.)

NO. 37: YOU. DROP THE BRUSH AND SHOW HIM WHAT TO DO.

PROFESSOR: YES MA’AM. (STRAINING AT HIS ACHING KNEES AS HE STANDS UP.) OH! MY KNEES!. THERE NOW. WILLOUGHBY, TURN OVER ON YOUR BACK AND SLIDE YOURSELF UNDERNEATH THE TRAP.

WILLOUGHBY: TRAP?! NOW WAIT A MINUTE—AM I A PAINTER, A PLUMBER, OR EXTERMINATOR?

NO. 6: AUTO MECHANIC.... ULTIMATELY.

PROFESSOR: WHATEVER YOUR VOCATION, WILLOUGHBY, PLEASE INSPECT THE TUBING.

NO. 37: (STERNLY REPEATING HER EARLIER COMMAND) FIX—THE LEAK.

WILLOUGHBY: ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT—DON’T GET ALL BENT OUT’A SHAPE. I’M SLIDIN’, I’M SLIDIN’. (BEAT) OKAY, I’M UNDER. NOW WHAT AM I TRYIN’ TO TRAP AGAIN?

PROFESSOR: LOOK UP AT THE THREADING JUST WHERE IT EMERGES FROM THE BELLY OF THE SINK. APPLY THE WRENCH FIRMLY.

SOUND OF WILLOUGHBY LIFTING THE CUMBERSOME WRENCH, STRAINING AS HE APPLIES IT, AND THEN DROPPING IT WITH A LOUD CRY OF PAIN.

WILLOUGHBY: ERMMM.... OUCH! MY HEAD!! OHHHH... I THINK I’M BLEEDIN’.

PROFESSOR: DO YOU SEE ANY MOISTURE NOW?

WILLOUGHBY: HMMM... NO. BUT I FEEL A LITTLE BIT.

NO. 37: THE CAR IS BROKEN.

NO. 6: NATURALLY.

WILLOUGHBY: (FIRST IN PAIN, THEN IN GROGGY UNDERSTANDING, AND THEN IN SLOW AND STILL SMARTING ACKNOWLEDGEMENT, WITH AN IRONIC SENSE OF FUTILITY)..... OHHHH...OHHHHH??.... OHHHH... YEAH... YEAH, SURE—AUTO MECHANIC, RIGHT? I GET IT.

NO. 37: OUTSIDE, NOW. BRING THE SHOVELS.

PROFESSOR: YES, MA’AM.

SOUND OF SHOVELS BEING GATHERED UP BY THE PROFESSOR.

PROFESSOR: (SLIGHTLY IMPATIENT) WILLOUGHBY—GET UP AND GIVE MR. NO. 6 BACK HIS WRENCH.

WILLOUGHBY: (STRAINING AS HE SLIDES OUT AND GETS UP, STILL SMARTING FROM HIS HEAD INJURY) URHHHERRRR.... OHHHHH... HERE. YOU BETTER BE CAREFUL WITH THAT THING—IT COULD HURT SOMEBODY.

NO. 6: THANK YOU. I’LL KEEP THAT IN MIND.

NO. 37: OUTSIDE!

SOUND OF THE DOOR OPENING ONTO A MASSIVE BLIZZARD WITH WHISTLING WINDS, ETC.

WILLOUGHBY: PROFESSOR! A BLIZZARD! OH BOY! NO SCHOOL! (BEAT) HEY! I THOUGHT THIS SCHOOL WAS A TROPICAL ISLAND!

NO. 6: NOT WHEN THE CAR IS BROKEN.

NO. 37: SHOVEL A PATH TO THE CURB... (SADISTICALLY) BEFORE SOMEONE SLIPS... AND HURTS HIMSELF. NOW.

PROFESSOR: GO AHEAD, WILLOUGHBY—I’LL GUIDE YOU.

WILLOUGHBY: RIGHT, PROFESSOR. GEEZE, I WISH I WAS STILL A DOG.

BLIZZARD SOUNDS COME UP AS THEY EXIT THE INTERIOR AND SOUNDS OF SNOW SHOVELS UPON SIDEWALK BEGIN ALONG WITH THE LABORING BREATHS OF WILLOUGHBY AND THE PROFESSOR. THE DIALOGUE BELOW IS SHOUTED OVER THE INTERFERENCE OF THE BLIZZARD NOISES.

PROFESSOR: CAREFUL NOT TO GOUGE THE LAWN, WILLOUGHBY. .. STAY ON THE WALK.... AND WATCH WHERE YOU’RE THROWING THE SNOW.... YOU’LL HURT SOMEONE.

SOUND OF THE WRENCH CLANK MAKING A DULL IMPACT UPON NUMBER 37’S SKULL, FOLLOWED BY THE SNOW CUSHIONED THUMP OF HER FALLING BODY AS THE SCRAPPING WILLOUGHBY’S AND THE PROFESSOR’S SHOVELS CONTINUES UNTIL THEY REACH THE CURB SOME SECONDS LEFT, WHEREUPON WILLOUGHBY TURNS FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS TO HIS ERSTWHILE MISTRESS.

WILLOUGHBY: (BREATHY WITH EXERTION) WELL, THERE’S YOUR PATHWAY, PROFESSOR. BUT IT’S GETTIN’ US NOWHERE WITH THIS CAR—IT’S BURIED IN SNOW—AND ALL I HAVE IS THIS SHOVEL. I’M GONNA NEED THAT WRENCH, PROFESSOR. WOULD YOU ASK MISTER SIX IF I COULD BORROW IT AGAIN?

PROFESSOR: WILLOUGHBY—USE THE SHOVEL TO CLEAR OFF THE CAR! I’LL SEE ABOUT THE WRENCH. MISTER NO. 6? OH! (BEAT) MISTER NO. 6, MADAM NO. 37 APPEARS TO HAVE SUSTAINED A MORTALLY CONCUSSIVE BLOW TO HER HEAD!

NO. 6: SHE MUST HAVE SLIPPED... AND HURT HERSELF.

WILLOUGHBY: HOW ‘BOUT THAT WRENCH, PROFESSOR?

NO. 6: HERE—USE IT IN GOOD HEALTH.

WILLOUGHBY: GEE, THANKS! HEY—YOU ARE PRETTY HANDY! THIS OUGHTA GET THE ICE OFF THE WINDSHIELD.

SOUND OF WILLOUGHBY BANGING AWAY AT THE ICE UNTIL IT SPLITS AND HE CRACKS OFF A BIG PIECE AND REVEALS AN OCCUPANT SITTING AT THE STEERING WHEEL.

PROFESSOR: CAREFUL, WILLOUGHBY—YOU’LL CRACK THE GLASS.

WILLOUGHBY: THERE—THAT’S THE DRIVER’S SIDE! HEY! THERE’S A LADY INSIDE!

SOUND OF CAR DOOR OPENING.

NO. 6: AH, NUMBER 38. IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU ARRIVED.

NO. 38: (SWEDISH ACCENT) GET IN. ALL OF YOU.

WILLOUGHBY: HEY, I THOUGHT THIS CAR WAS BROKEN!

PROFESSOR: PLEASE, WILLOUGHBY! DO AS SHE SAYS!

SOUNDS OF THREE DOOR OPENING AND CLOSING BEFORE THE VEHICLE DRIVES OFF INTO THE BLIZZARD. FADE OUT ON THE BLIZZARD. BEAT. FADE UP ON THE AMBIENCE OF A CLINICAL, LABORATORY-LIKE ENVIRONMENT WITH THE CENTRIFUGAL DOPPLER SOUNDS OF TWO SWEEPING ARMATURES EMANATING FROM A HYDRAULIC HUB AT THE CENTER OF THE ROUND ROOM. SADDLED UPON THE ENDS OF THE ARMATURES ARE NO. 38 AND NO. 2, WHOSE LINES MAY SWEEP IN AND OUT OF PROXIMITY ALONG WITH THEIR DISTANCE FROM THE RESTRAINING PALLETS OF NO. 6, W, AND THE P, WHO HAVE BEEN ADMINISTERED SODIUM PENTOTHAL FOR THIS LAST STAGE IN MOTHER TERRISTA’S GETTING-EVEN PROTOCOL.

NO. 38: THEY’RE UNDER, MOTHER.

MOTHER TERRISTA: SLEEPING—LIKE CHILDREN. LIKE TIRED LITTLE BOYS. WHO’VE HAD A LONG RIDE HOME. AND TOO MUCH PENTOTHAL. THEY NEED TO BE ROUSED. DREAMY THINGS. SWEEP THEM, THIRTY-EIGHT.

NO. 38: SWEEPING SIX... SIX DREAMING... SCENE. SCREEN CIRCLING. AND SYNCHRONIZED.

NO. 2: JACQUES.... (BEAT) JACQUES.... MOTHER’S WAITING. SAY IT—SAY JACQUES. THE PONIES WILL FLY AWAY. GRAB THE RING AND SAY JACQUES. JACQUES...

NO. 6: JACQUES IS JAKES. MY BROTHER WAS A JACQUES. I AM NO. 6. YOU ARE NO. 2.

NO. 2: NAUGHTY BOY. LET’S TRY THE ICE CREAM. ON YOUR VELOCIPEDE. HURRY, HURRY—YOU’LL BE LATE—FOR EVERYTHING. NO PARTY; NO MOMMY; NO SLEEPY, NO BED-BY TIMES, NO MORE STORY. (WITH SUDDEN STRENGTH; HUFF AND PUFF OF NO. 6 HEARD UNDER THE INSTRUCTIONS OF NO. 2, ALONG WITH SOUND EFFECTS OF A BICYCLE AND ICE CREAM WAGON BELLS) RIDE. RACE. THE PEDDLER—THE ICE CREAM PEDDLER. RING, RING. SHE’S GOING. RACE. RACE. CALL. TELL HER TO WAIT. WAIT FOR .... WAIT FOR JACQUES! SAY JACQUES! ICE CREAM... FOR.... JACQUES!

NO. 6: (HUFFING TO A STOP) RING! RING! ICE CREAM, PLEASE! I’LL HAVE A SNOW CONE, MUMMY. JACQUES WANTS FUDGE (BEAT)

NO.2: YOU WANT FUDGE. LIAR!!

NO. 6: YOU’RE NOT MUMMY. YOU’RE NO. 2. POOH-POOH TWO! (WITH THE SUDDEN NASTINESS OF A BRAT) YOU FUDGE!

NO. 2: BAD BRAT! ISN’T HE A BAD BRAT, NO. 6? HE’S BROKEN YOUR VELOCIPEDE. PUNISH HIM. HE’S YOURS.

NO. 6: HE’S SIX. HE WANTS A PONY.

NO.2: THEY’RE OFF! (SOUND OF THE GATE BELL AT A RACTRACK, FOLLOWED BY THUNDERING HOOVES UPON THE TURF). A RACE. YOU ARE A JOCKEY. RIDE. RIDE JACQUES. JACQUES IS AHEAD. JACQUES WILL WIN? SAY JACQUES—TO WIN!

NO. 6: JACQUES IS A HORSE. THE RACE IS OVER. I AM NO. 6. YOU ARE NO. 2.

NO. 2: STILL UNBROKEN, SIX? BACK TO THE STABLES. TROT, TROT; TRAIN, TRAIN. JACQUES MUST BE BROKEN—TO WIN. (SOUND OF HORSE NEIGHING)

NO. 6: I AM A TRAIN. (SOUND OF LOCOMOTIVE WHISTLE AND STEAM CHUFF) CHOO-CHOO! I AM AN ENGINE. I AM NO. 6. JACQUES IS THE ENGINEER. CHOO-CHOO! CHOO-CHOO! CHOO, CHOO, CHOO, ETC.

SOUND OF NO. 6 CHOO-CHOOING OUT OF THE LAB, ENDING WITH A PNEUMATIC HISS FOR HIS EXIT.

NO. 2: (REFLECTIVELY) SECRET MAN. SO SECRET. HMMM... (BEAT) SWEEP THE SCIENTIST, THIRTY-EIGHT. SEEK HIS ORIGINAL EXPERIMENT... CHILD’S PLAY.

NO. 38: SWEEPING... SEEKING... SCENE. SYNCHORNIZED AND CIRCLING.

NO. 2: WHY AREN’T YOU THE LITTLE PROFESSOR.

PROFESSOR: (MISUNDERSTANDING HER INFLECTION AND SPEAKING AS A CHILD’S VERSION OF THE PROFESSOR, I. E. WITHOUT HIS ADULT JOWLS) I AM THE PROFESSOR. WHO ARE YOU?

NO. 2: I AM MOTHER. IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY. YOU’RE TEN YEARS OLD.

SOUNDS OF CHILDREN SQUEALING WITH EXCITEMENT AT A BIRTHDAY PARTY.

PROFESSOR: I WANT A CHEMISTRY SET.

BIRTHDAY SOUNDS DIE.

NO. 2: NASTY BOY. YOU WANT TO MAKE THINGS STINK. LIKE JACQUES. CAN YOU SAY JACQUES?

PROFESSOR: WHO IS JACQUES?

NO. 2: (FIRST WITH LOATHING) JACQUES IS SICK. (THEN WITH BRIGHT SUGGESTION) JACQUES NEEDS A CURE. CAN YOU MAKE A CURE FOR JACQUES?

PROFESSOR: (WITH PROUD BOYISH AMBITION) I WILL MAKE AN EXPERIMENT FOR JACQUES.

NO. 2: JACQUES IS IN YOUR HAND.

PROFESSOR: JACQUES IS SMALL. (BEAT) I WILL MAKE JACQUES BIG.

NO. 2: LOOK AT ME, MY LITTLE PROFESSOR. (WITH THE SLIGHTEST EMPHASIS UPON "ME")

PROFESSOR: HELLO.

NO. 2: CHOP JACQUES. CHOP JACQUES UP!

PROFESSOR: JACQUES IS A CAKE! (CHILDREN’S GIGGLING CHEER) HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! A PIECE FOR YOU, A PIECE FOR YOU, A PIECE FOR YOU, A PIECE FOR....

NO. 2: (ANGRILY, IMPATIENTLY) MAKE JACQUES BLEED! YOU ARE A SCIENTIST! THIS IS A LABORATORY!

PROFESSOR: (HIS MOUTH FULL OF IMAGINARY CAKE, INADVERTENTLY DISTORTING HIS PRONUNCIATION AND REDIRECTING HIS OWN PERCEPTION OF THE DREAM’S CIRCUMSTANCES) A LAVATORY? (MUNCHING) I HAVE TO GO.

NO. 2: (SEIZING THE OPPORTUNITY TO REDIRECT THE DREAM IN ANOTHER DIRECTION) YES—YOU ARE GOING. TO THE DENTIST. (SOUND OF THE DENTIST’S DRILL AND AIR BLASTS, THEN SETTLING INTO THE GURGLE OF SALIVA VACUUM) YOU HAVE A CAVITY. TOO MUCH CAKE.

PROFESSOR: (WITH MOUTH FULL) MAY I SPIT?

NO. 2: NOT WITH CAKE IN YOUR MOUTH. (BEAT) OPEN WIDE. FINGERS... HOLDING YOUR TONGUE. CAN YOU SAY JACQUES... NOW?

PROFESSOR: (GAGGING WITH IMMOBILIZED TONGUE) ACH?

NO 2: BUT YOU’RE NOT NUMB. YOU NEED A NEEDLE... PRICKING YOUR GUMS...

PROFESSOR: (MILDLY AT THE IMAGINED PRICK) OH.

NO. 2: NOVOCAINE... FATTENING YOUR LIP... ERASING YOUR PAIN...

PROFESSOR: (WITH SOME MILD BLISS) AH...

NO. 2: BUT YOU’RE NOT NUMB ENOUGH. YOU NEED A STRONGER CAINE.

WHOOSH/WHACK OF BAMBOO CANE BEING APPLIED TO A BOY’S BOTTOM IN THE BEST ENGLISH PUBLIC SCHOOL STYLE.

PROFESSOR: AHWWWW!

NO. 2: DID I HIT A NERVE?

PROFESSOR: UH HUH. OHHH....

NO. 2: OH DON’T BE SUCH A LITTLE BOY.

PROFESSOR: (NOW WITH JOWLS AGAIN) BUT I AM A LITTLE BOY.

NO. 2: YOU ARE A LITTLE RUFFIAN! A SNOT-NOSED HOOLIGAN. ONE OF THAT JACQUES’S GANG. ALWAYS HANGING AROUND... LOOKING FOR GIRLS! GIRLS TO TEASE... TO CALL NAMES... TO PUSH DOWN IN THE MUD! SO YOU CAN BE A BIG SHOT! A BIG SHOT WITH YOUR FRIENDS. GO AHEAD—TELL YOUR PALS WHAT YOU DID TODAY TO THE NICE LADY DENTIST. THEY WANT TO KNOW WHAT KIND OF SNOTTY THING YOU DID. (SOUND OF DEAD END KIDS RAGGING HIM ON.) JACQUES WANTS TO KNOW. TELL HIM—SAY WHAT YOU DID TO JACQUES.

PROFESSOR: I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO YOU, JACQUES.

NO. 2: LIAR! THEY DON’T BELIEVE YOU. THEY’RE GOING TO BEAT YOU UP!

GANG HECKLING TURN ANGRY.

PROFESSOR: BU, BU, BU... PERHAPS I SHOULD EXPLAIN... I WANT TO HELP MANKIND.

NO. 2: TOO LATE! THEY THINK YOU ARE A SISSY. RUN!

GANG VOICE: (WITH FRENCH ACCENT) GET ‘IM! HE’S A FAIRY!

PROFESSOR: OH MY! (HUFFING AND PUFFING AS HE IMAGINES FLEEING) HELP! (HUFF-PUFF) I AM A SCIENTIST! (HUFF-PUFF) HELP!

NO. 2: YOU WANT HELP? ASK JACQUES FOR HELP. HE WILL PROTECT YOU FROM JACQUES. HURRY! THEY ARE CATCHING UP! SAY "JACQUES! HELP!"

PROFESSOR: HELP!... (GANG JEERS FADE AS HUFFING AND PUFFING BECOME THE GRUNTING BREATHS OF EXTREME EXERTION) MY LEGS... I CAN’T... GO. SUCKING... GROUND... CAN’T LIFT... FEET....

NO. 2: NOW THE BOY, THIRTY-EIGHT! SWEEP THE BOY!

THIRTY-EIGHT: SWEEPING... AND SYNCHRONIZED.

PROFESSOR: HELP! IT’S... JACQUES!

SOUND OF COLLIDING BODIES WITH APPROPRIATE UFF’S AND OHF’S.

WILLOUGHBY: HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU’RE RUNNING, WILL YA?

PROFESSOR: (SUDDENLY LOSING HIS SENSE OF URGENCY IN ORDER TO OBEY A DEEPER IMPULSE TO CCURTESY) OH, UH, EXCUSE ME. (SUDDENLY REGAINING DESPERATION.) HELP ME, JACQUES! JACQUES IS AFTER ME WITH HIS GANG!

WILLOUGHBY: HEY! WHO YOU MAKIN’ FUN OF, MISTER? MY NAME’S "WILLOUGHBY"! GOT IT?

PROFESSOR: "WILLOUGHBY"? WHY... WHY YOU ARE WILLOUGHBY!

WILLOUGHBY: BECAUSE I AM, THAT’S ALL—OKAY? WHO ARE YOU?

NO. 2: (SWITCHING ROLE ASSIGNMENTS) HE IS JACQUES, "WILLOUGHBY." (HER FINAL INFLECTION SUGGESTING A SKEPTICISM ABOUT WILLOUGHBY’S MONIKER.)

WILLOUGHBY: (CONFUSED) WHO?

PROFESSOR: I AM THE LITTLE PROFESSOR.

WILLOUGHBY: WELL, YA SURE AIN’T NO ATHLETE. YA RUN LIKE AN OLD MAN. AND YA LOOK LIKE ONE TOO! IF YOU WANNA BE A JOCK, YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO GET IN BETTER SHAPE THAN THAT.

NO. 2: HE IS A JACQUES! NOT A "JOCK"! SAY "JACQUES"! "JACQUES"!

WILLOUGHBY: NO WAY. MY NAME’S WILLOUGHBY!

NO. 2: THEN JACQUES WILL GET YOU TOO! HERE HE COMES! SAY "JACQUES"!

SOUND OF CHARGING GANG COMES UP AGAIN.

GANG VOICE: (WITH FRENCH ACCENT) THERE HE IS, JACQUES! LET’S GET ‘IM!

WILLOUGHBY: HEY YOU KIDS—I’M WARNIN’ YOU: LEAVE THIS KID ALONE! HE’S AN OLD MAN.

NO. 2: PUNCH HIM! KICK HIM! THROW HIM ON HIS BACK!

SOUNDS OF A SCUFFLE RUNS UNDERNEATH THE FOLLOWING LINES AS THE PROFESSOR IS ANGRILY PUMMELED BY THE GANG AND WILLOUGHBY COMES TO HIS DEFENSE.

PROFESSOR: OH! OH! WILLOUGHBY! HELP!

NO. 2: (FEROCIOUSLY FRENCH) JACQUES!

WILLOUGHBY: HE’S NOT JACQUES! GET OFF HIM!

NO. 2: SAY JACQUES!

PROFESSOR: WILLOUGHBY!

WILLOUGHBY: IT'S NOT HIM!!!

NO. 2: SAY JACQUES!

WILLOUGHBY: IT’S ME!!

PROFESSOR: (STRETCHING OUT THE WORD IN A PRIMAL SCREAM OF PAIN) J A C Q U E S !!!!

ENORMOUS CLAP AND THUNDER AS GOD WILLOUGHBY (A.K.A. APOLLO JACQUES MARTINEZ-XIOTL-DIEGO-DE’ZULU-GONZALVEZ) THROWS A GIGANTIC LIGHTNING BOLT AT THE GANG, WHICH IS FOLLOWED BY THE HISS OF DESTRUCTION.

PROFESSOR: (IMPRESSED) THEY’RE GONE. HMM. QUITE AN AMAZING DISPLAY OF NEURAL-STATIC ELECTRICAL DISCHARGE. YOU ARE A VERY POWERFUL BOY.

WILLOUGHBY: (DIMINISHING THE DEED AS COMMONPLACE) THANKS. BUT IT'S JUST BALL LIGHTNING.

PROFESSOR: (MISTAKING THE NATURE OF W'S INTELLIGENCE AND EXCITEDLY TAKING HIM AS A FELLOW SPIRIT) ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SCIENCE? I HAVE A CHEMISTRY SET. WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IT?

WILLOUGHBY: SURE.

LAB SOUNDS SUDDENLY APPEAR: BUBBLING, VOLTAGE, ETC..

WILLOUGHBY: WOW! WHERE’D YA GET ALL THIS NEAT STUFF? YOUR PARENTS BUY IT FOR YA?

PROFESSOR: (SUDDENLY CONFUSED, PERHAPS THINKING OF MOTHER TERRISTA AND PONDERING HER RELATIONSHIP TO HIM) I DON'T KNOW. IT MAY HAVE BEEN MY MOTHER. (BEAT; PERPLEXED) OR SOMEBODY'S.

SOUND OF THE LAB’S PNEUMATIC DOOR WHOOSHING OPEN AS THOUGH TO ADMIT SOMEONE BUT ADMITTING INSTEAD THE SHARPLY HEARD SOUNDS OF THE OPEN SEA (INCLUDING GULLS, A BUOY BELL, AND SOME SLOPPING WATER REMINISCENT OF NO. 36'S DROWNING). OUT OF THE SOUNDS RISES UP THE SIREN-LIKE BECKONING CALL OF WOMAN'S SUBLIME VOICE, CALLING WILLOUGHBY’S TRUE NAME WITH THE INTONATION OF A PRIEST'S LITURGICAL CHANT.

MOMMA W.: APOLLO-JACQUES-MARTINEZ-XIOTL-DIEGO-DE’ZULU-GONSAAAAAALVES! HIS SCIENCE IS NONSENSE. YOUR FATHER'S CAST OFF AND AWAITS (LIKE "A WASTE"). COME FOR YOUR CORKING.

WILLOUGHBY: (INCREDULOUS) MOM?... DAD?

PROFESSOR: (PERPLEXED) APOLLO JACQUES?

W&P THEME--WITH MOTHER TERRISTA'S METRONOMIC BELL KEEPING TIME--UP AND OUT.

 

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