The Good Doctor Pockless sits enjoying his plain white coffee in his favourite armchair, with the rare inverted chockmark covers he had specially made in Kowloon. After a hard day knocking some nonsense into his students, all he wants is to be left alone, and he is thinking of going to the kitchen to get a nice plate of sardines.
As the Doctor leaves (stage left) Lyle walks in, with a dreamy look in his eyes and sits himself down in the armchair. He bounces up again, makes his way over to the Uberpercolator and hits the button marked ‘Inspirational Substances’, and as Hanni walks in hearing the sound of the coffee being ready, the shock of the noise of the Uberpercolator’s Whistle hurls Lyle across the room, broadsiding the Doctor’s coffee across the priceless armchair covers.
Hanni and Lyle shriek simultaneously and rush to wipe the staining liquid, banging their skulls together with a sickening thud. This renders Hanni unconscious and Lyle staggers around the stage groaning. The noise brings an inquisitive Adrian and D to the scene.
“What happened?” asks D, rushing to Hanni’s side. Lyle blathers and waves at the Uberpercolator, still staggering around. He groans, incapable of speech. “Come on,” says D, “we’d better get her to a bed.”
Adrian raises an eyebrow. He’s like that.
D grabs Lyle and forces him to help drag Hanni into one of the downstairs bedrooms. Adrian, taking whatever is available, picks up the cup from the Uberpercolator and drinks it. All of a sudden, he feels…a little…inspired.
“Woah,” says Adrian. He staggers over to and slumps into the only chair – the prized chair of Doctor Pockless, who conveniently arrives (stage left) carrying a plate of sardines.
He is so shocked that he drops the plate, covering our Adrian in fish. Muttering to himself in an old man style, the breaks the plate over Adrian’s head and wanders back off to the kitchen.
“Wow man, spaced,” says Adrian, and he begins to chew a sardine, absently.
The surprised cries of D and Lyle (now recovered) to find their colleague so covered in the fruits of the sea and shards of pottery brings a curiously melodic Shivery in from stage right. Her voice is so high that a window breaks, just in time to admit Not That Adrian, who pours himself an espresso and wanders upstairs to help himself to the jewellery, completely unnoticed by the astounded others, who spin round to see the redheaded songstress as she wanders over to the Uberpercolator and grabs a binful of espresso.
“Pretty fishlings,” says Adrian, turning a sardine this way and that in the light.
“What’s going on?” asks Shiv, slurping her coffee in a delicate way. D picks up a piece of plate.
“Something…” D blanches. He holds his breath. He begins to go purple.
“Are you all right?” asks Lyle. D goes blue.
“I think…I think he’s trying to resist it,” says Shivery, standing back.
“A gimme…” says Shiv. All of a sudden the air is rent with gas being released from great pressure. D rises several feet off the ground.
“SOMETHING….FISHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYyyyyyyy,” bellows D.
“Oh,” says Lyle. “I see.”
“Friendly fishy,” says Adrian, rubbing a sardine with his ear.
In pop Krissa and Pix, chatting between the two of them. They stop, halted by the scene of a heavy breathing D, Lyle trying to look innocent, Shiv hefting and sipping from a five gallon bin of coffee, and Adrian attempting to french kiss a sardine.
“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight,” they say in unison, and help themselves to coffee.
“I love you, Mrs. Sardine,” says Adrian.
A frowning Green Fairy, her arm in a sling, storms in from Stage Right holding a muffin.
“Will someone please unwrap this for me?” No one reacts. Frustrated, GF stomps up to Adrian and thrusts the muffin into his face. Startled, Adrian loses his grip on Mrs. Sardine, who shoots up into the air and lands behind the armchair by the door to the kitchen. A yelp of despair startles even the Doctor in the kitchen, who opens the door into Adrian’s head as he scrabbles on the floorboards for his new friend. Another plate of sardines is broadcast liberally across all and sundry. Hanni emerges blinking from the bedroom in time to be covered in fish, and Adrian, recovering, pulls himself to his knees and swayingly blinks in the midst of the briney mayhem.
“I want to marry you, fishywishy.”
The room is curiously silent apart from the Doctor hitting the floor when he sees what has become of his extortionately priced armchair.
“Okay,” says the sardine.