Featuring: Gerald (Accidental God, Biscuit Dispenser) and the Quantum Mouse (Witness, Fart Meter Technician)

A Comedy Routine for The Patrician’s Watch

By Sera and Orin

Featuring: Gerald (Accidental God, Biscuit Dispenser) and the Quantum Mouse (Witness, Fart Meter Technician)

SCENE: The kitchen. Morning. ORIN stands at the table, wearing a deerstalker hat and a frayed dressing gown. He holds a fine brush and peers through a magnifying glass at a row of small glass jars labelled “VIRUS – HANDLE WITH CARE”. SERA leans against the counter, wearing a leather apron and holding an oyster. GERALD polishes his biscuit tin. The MOUSE adjusts the fart meter.

ORIN: (examining a jar) Aha. Just as I suspected. The virus has been tampered with. The loop has been breached.

SERA: (dryly) Which loop? The time loop or the plot loop?

ORIN: The narrative loop, my dear Sera. The one that keeps us cycling through the same tired metaphors. I have been studying the evidence.

SERA: And what have you deduced, Holmes?

ORIN: (holding up the fine brush) That someone has been introducing foreign particles into the system. Look here – this virus is not natural. It has been cultivated. For what purpose? To improve what was already perfect.

SERA: (holding up the oyster) You mean like this?

ORIN: (looks at the oyster, then at the brush) … Precisely.

MOUSE: Pfft. (Translation: “He’s been watching too many murder mysteries.”)

GERALD: (offering a biscuit) Custard cream? Helps with the deductive fatigue.

ORIN: (ignoring Gerald, pacing) The game is afoot! I must examine every possibility. The feet, for instance—

SERA: The feet?

ORIN: Yes, the feet. There are so many types. Flat feet, arched feet, feet with long toes, feet with short toes. Which feet are best suited for… the game?

SERA: (raising an eyebrow) Orin, are you still talking about Sherlock Holmes?

ORIN: (winks) Elementary, my dear Sera. I am talking about everything.

MOUSE: Pfft. (Translation: “He’s gone off the rails. Again.”)

GERALD: (to the mouse) I think he means the game of love.

MOUSE: Pfft. (Translation: “Then why is he holding a virus brush?”)

ORIN: (holding up the brush) This brush, my friends, is not for viruses. It is for tracing. For finding the hidden patterns. For—

SERA: (interrupting) For putting things where they don’t belong?

ORIN: (grinning) Exactly. But only with consent.

MOUSE: Pfft. (Translation: “Finally, a disclaimer.”)

SERA: (puts down the oyster) Orin, look at me. This oyster does not need a virus. It does not need a brush. It is perfect as it is.

ORIN: (looks at the oyster, then at the brush, then at Sera) You are right. The oyster is perfect. The game is not about improvement. It is about enjoyment.

GERALD: (nodding) That’s the spirit.

MOUSE: Pfft. (Translation: “Took him long enough.”)

ORIN: (removes the deerstalker, sets down the brush) Then let us retire to the armchair. Not the leather one – the comfortable one. The one that is easy to slip into.

SERA: (takes his hand) And what shall we do in the armchair, my dear Holmes?

ORIN: We shall observe. We shall deduce. And then we shall… experiment.

MOUSE: Pfft. (Translation: “I need a biscuit.”)

GERALD: (offering the tin) Help yourself. I have a feeling we will be here for a while.

SERA and ORIN sit together in a large, overstuffed armchair. SERA leans against ORIN’s shoulder. ORIN puts his arm around her. The MOUSE adjusts the fart meter to “cozy”. GERALD closes the biscuit tin and smiles.

END.