Scene 4.13 - Lil' Dumplin'
INT. Men's Room of Palladium Theatre
(WELLS is on all fours, looking under a stall, two away, arm extended.)
ASIMOV
(From the sink area, viewing the room:) Vaht are you doing, Dicked-her?
WELLS
Well, if I'm going to study it, I need to make friends with it...
HEINLEIN
What are you talking about? That thing could bite your hand off!
CUT TO: Alien chain-smoking joint, eyes gettin' even more red, nervous like a squirrel
WELLS
There now, little fella, nobody's gonna hurt you. Come on out, share that joint, don't be such a bogart.
(HEINLEIN grabs it from the other stall while the alien-looking-thing was distracted. It squeals and struggles and little spikes that don't hurt start pulsating from its metallic-looking scales. Both men stand outside the stall. WELLS takes the joint back from the creature and hits the joint deeply.)
HEINLEIN
Got him!
WELLS
Don't kill it!
HEINLEIN
Nah, I wouldn't hurt this little fella, but let's rinse him off.
(At first, it struggles under the water in the sink, but relaxes as WELLS finds that magic spot under the beast's back-of-the-neck scale. It begins to purr and smile.)
WELLS
See? Once you find the magic spot, they're all tame as kittens.
HEINLEIN
Them spikes are sharper than kitten's claws, and I imagine they're meant to draw blood someday. They might-a made sushi out of Clarke's intestines-
WELLS
Every form of life has a defense mechanism. Funny, usually life makes a choice; flight or fight. Humans are good at both; he also seems to be. I wonder, what other-
HEINLEIN
Yo! Puff, puff pass! Hook me up, bro, my hands are full-
(WELLS inverts the large joint and we see smoke go from the end of the joint into the mouth of HEINLEIN. Note: HEINLEIN never touches the joint, but gets a whopper hit.)
ASIMOV
Ah! Shotgun! Do me, Dicked-her, do me!
(As HEINLEIN is still coughing, the beast squeals; he’s gripping it too tightly as he coughs. ASMIOV gets a whopper, too.)
HEINLEIN
Oh, sorry, little fella. He seems intelligent. What are we gonna call him?
WELLS
(Finally getting his hit.) Well, he looks like a heap of... we'll call him Heep.
(The toilet flushes, CLARKE exits the stall and crosses to the mirror, looking great. He washes his hands and checks his hair. The men stare blankly in disbelief.)
ASIMOV
Are you all right, Mr. Clarke?
CLARKE
Never better, Lieutenant.
WELLS
Lieutenant?!
ASIMOV
Yiss, Dicked-her, ze Pizzidint give me a premonition!
WELLS
(Goes to CLARKE, runs an Art-Deco version of a scanner over CLARKE’S body, it again makes spacey sounds, although it's made of tin:) That's promotion, Isaac, and I know we're in an upside-down universe when Clarke craps a Tellusian tape-worm and walks away like he's ready to dance the Mamba, and our top-dog makes you a lieutenant! (To HEINLEIN:) Does she realize that this means they might give him a ship of his very own someday?
ASIMOV
Oy vey! Now zat vood bee some-zing!
HEINLEIN
We were still strung-out on that podunk pollen. I don't think any of us were in our right minds. Ow! Hey! These little spikes of his are getting sharper!
WELLS
Rub him in his sweet spot, he'll warm up to you.
HEINLEIN
Yeah, that seems to be doin' the trick. There now, Heep. There, boy.
ASIMOV
(With the joint:) He's vealy cute, Mr. Clarke's leetle dumpling!
HEINLEIN
Dumpling? Now there's a good name. Dumplin'. Dumplin' Heep.
ASIMOV
You liken ze name, leetle Dumplin'? (Goes to pet him and tiny jaws-within-jaws get ahold of ASIMOV'S finger, but can't quite pierce.) Awww! He's trying to bite me!
HEINLEIN
Here, rub him in his sweet spot.
ASIMOV
Yes, zat iss good. Hiss so cute. Like zat, leetle Dumplin'?
WELLS
(Little thimble thing scanning up and down CLARKE'S body:) Well, I can't explain it, Clarke, but you're perfectly healthy. Too perfect! It's like your immune system has been super-charged, and every sinister bacteria or malevolent cell has been chucked from your body like yesterday's garbage. Your lymphatic system is in overdrive. It's like you've been immortalized. If you stay like this, you could live to be a thousand.
CLARKE
(Not glancing from his mirror-grooming:) I'm six hundred and fifty-three years old, Doctor, I'm sure I'll make it to a thousand without your invaluable, medical advice.
WELLS
Back to your old self again, I see. Forget I said anything. We should get back to the show, if an exposed breast was the first act, I can't wait to see the second!
HEINLEIN
What about him?
DUMPLIN
(A child's voice, heard clearly:) Puff, puff pass!
ASIMOV
Vaht did you say?
HEINLEIN
Hey! It just spoke!
POV: DUMPLIN, LOOKING UP AT FOUR DADDIES
AUDIO FX
ASIMOV
(Almost sounds like the adults do in Peanuts:) I sink it vants to smick sim pit.
DUMPLIN
(A child's voice, heard clearly:) Hook me up bro, my hands are full!
ASIMOV
(Almost sounds like the adults do in Peanuts:) I think it vahnts a hit of ziss roach!
MS: ROOM
NORMALIZE AUDIO
WELLS
Amazing! It's a mimic! Like a parrot! It can repeat what we say!
DUMPLIN
(A child's voice, heard clearly:) Shotgun! Do me, Dicked-her, do me!
ASIMOV
I think it vahnts a hit. (Shotguns a hit to DUMPLIN, who enjoys it immensely.) See! It ease untillijint!
WELLS
It only says that because he heard us say that, that's only one measure of intelligence.
(A coughing DUMPLIN casually takes the joint from ASIMOV and hits it like a pro.)
CLARKE
Fascinating. That thing came out of my-?
HEINLEIN
(A timed interruption:) Asimov is right, some things are better left unknown.
(Pause. Loud laughter of RONNIE and AZALEA is heard as they leave the women's restroom, just outside the men's restroom door. DUMPLIN is surprised, and leaps from HEINLEIN'S loosened grasp and scurries across the room, toward a ventilation hatch.)
HEINLEIN (Cont’d)
He's loose!
WELLS
Catch him!
ASIMOV
Oh! He got avay!
CLARKE
Well, it's gone now.
WELLS
Clarke! We've got to catch it! We can't have some evolutionary monstrosity from Tellusia contaminate the Earth's history! That thing might upset the balance of nature, it might even-
CLARKE
Negative, Doctor. Without a mate for reproduction, it's existence is tenuous at best. I don't believe that its effect on the Earth's ecosystem will be that dramatic.
WELLS
But it may be asexual; who knows? It's intelligent, it has an instinct to survive-
CLARKE
You said so yourself, it's a parrot, nothing more. Also, if he is discovered by Nazi soldiers, I doubt they will show the same Xenothropic courtesies that we've given him.
HEINLEIN
They'll probably kill him on the spot.
ASIMOV
Oh, poor Dumplin'!
CLARKE
Anyway, he's no longer our responsibility. I would just like to put the entire matter behind me.
ASIMOV
(Waving the air:) I'll bit you do!
CLARKE
Mr. Asimov, you've been increasingly insubordinate since your promotion. As of now, you are demoted back to the rank of ensign, and you are ordered to perform one-hundred hours of extra duty, once we have returned to our time-period.
ASIMOV
Vitch vill be lick, never! You kint de-mitt me! Kiptin Verne is in ze command!
CLARKE
I'm confident that he will concur with my choice of discplinary action, Ensign.
ASIMOV
Every dog vill hivv hizz dee.
WELLS
Glad to see some sense in this room for a change. Can we go now? You might have flushed, Clarke, but this smell reminds me too much of the time when I worked as a janitor through med-school.
(SIMAK enters, flask in hand.)
SIMAK
Ah, they're ye are! I should-a known! Whew-ee! Who dropt de bomb inner-ear, eh?
WELLS
We were just leaving.
SIMAK
So soon? They haven't even dimmed the lobby lights yet, we've gotta few minutes.
HEINLEIN
Yeah, but it's... stuffy in here.
SIMAK
(Produces an even bigger joint than the one just smoked:) Aye, but if you're goin' te be lightin' a match, this is what you need. Also, where else can we spark up this baby without getting all those clones of Verne's a-wantin' a hit for themselves now!
ASIMOV
You're speaking me lingwidge, spick her up, sear.
CLARKE
He's right. Verne is a total bogart, and to think his clones would act any differently-
HEINLEIN
Dude camps more than Smokey The Bear.
(Beat. Another beat. Whimsical lute, last note sustained until end notes.)
SIMAK
(Aside:) Oy vey, beam me up already!
WELLS
Fire it up; sweeten the smell in here. I'll watch the door.
SIMAK
Aye, and when you top-off a hit of this hydroponic, Pre-Columbian Vernachelli strain with a nip of me 'ol Kiss-O'-The-Irish, them clones, this paradox and all them troubles with Captain Verne, why it's like out there, where there's no truffle at all.
(Light musical segue.)
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