Episode Six « All Cleared Up

Act 3 – At The Laboratory, THE PROF. is sat playing chess with a robotic arm.

THE PROF.: Queen to E6.
ROBOT: You sunk my battleship.

THE PROF. looks at the robot confused as there is a knock at door. He goes to answer it and finds a solemn looking JAMIE staring back at him.

JAMIE: I need help.
THE PROF.: When do you ever not need help?

THE PROF. lets JAMIE in as she retreats to comfy beanbags by the bookshelf and pouts.

THE PROF.: What is it this time? Are you pregnant? Do you need me to hack into the school’s database and change your report card?
JAMIE: No, I just – You can do that?
THE PROF.: I could, but I’m above helping you anymore; I have far more important experiments to attend too. Rook to C2.
ROBOT: Move directly to jail. Do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred dollars.

THE PROF. detaches the wires from the back of the robot’s head and grunts.

THE PROF.: Well I guess it’s your lucky day.
JAMIE: Hardly! I just almost got fired from my first job, I’ve fallen out with Jamie and I think the boy I have a crush on is gay.
THE PROF.: Why yes, you truly are screwed.
JAMIE: Thank you.
THE PROF.: I was being sarcastic, you idiotic little girl!
JAMIE: Oh. So will you help me?
THE PROF.: Go on, I could do with a good laugh.
JAMIE: Well…

JAMIE explains her situation THE PROF..

JAMIE: And that’s my problem.
THE PROF.: Really? It sounds to me like you brought this all on yourself.
JAMIE: Well I wasn’t asking for you opinion, Barbara! I wanted to know if you have any invention that could help me show up to work tomorrow and prove to everybody that I’m better than Jamie.
THE PROF.: I might. But it’s going to cost you.
JAMIE: What? I’ve never had to pay for any of the other things I borrowed.
THE PROF.: That was before I quickly learnt that you don’t know the meaning of the word borrowed. I’m still waiting for my Cerebral Elevator back by the way.
JAMIE: Fine. If I bring you that back will you drop the charge ’cause I’m kinda broke.
THE PROF.: I wasn’t talking about money.
JAMIE: Oh? Well, do you have somewhere private we can go to?
THE PROF.: You really do repulse me.
JAMIE: I just figured…
THE PROF.: Spare me the story about how you were sexually abused by your uncle.
JAMIE: Who told you?

There is an awkward silence as THE PROF.’S eyes widen and JAMIE casually laughs it off. Reaching behind JAMIE’S head, the professor takes down a pair of leather gloves from the shelf and puts them on.

JAMIE: Ooh, kinky.
THE PROF.: These are not all they appear to be.

THE PROF. walks over to an unfinished jigsaw puzzle and adjusts a button on the gloves. Suddenly, he finishes the puzzle in a few seconds.

JAMIE: Wow impressive.
THE PROF.: I’ll say! I’ve had the 2012 Olympics in London begging me for five-hundred pairs of these babies. Needless to say I’m a tad apprehensive about letting a bunch of overweight builders loose with these things.
JAMIE: How come?
THE PROF.: How shall I put this? There are certain… connotations attached to leather. One’s mind tends to wander over to the more… pleasing aspects these gloves can bring.
JAMIE: Come again.
THE PROF.: Exactly! Now, I trust you’ll use them responsibly. What am I saying? Just bring them back in one piece.
JAMIE: Will do, professor! So, what is it you wanted in return?
THE PROF.: Oh! Never mind about that. You better get going if you want to get back to the Pizza Hutch before it closes.

THE PROF. rudely pushes JAMIE out of the door. When she’s gone he holds up his fingers and examines the strand of hair he pulled fromJAMIE’S head. He walks over to the bookcase and pulls out a book halfway which reveals a secret door in the wall. As he walks inside the dark chamber he starts to laugh hysterically.

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