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My Wobbly Coconut
[by popular request[1]]
[A gang of three men, noticeably older. Well, a week older, at any rate.
They're standing in a room, around, as you might have expected, around a lamp, a man sitting on a chair, and a stuffed pig sitting on a chair. Both the man and stuffed pig are tied to their respective chairs, which are then tied to each other. The chairs. Back to back.
They both slump, the man and the stuffed pig, a bit like the walls do, but are hindered from being completely and utterly wall-like by the fact that they're both tied up with ropes, a structural benefit which the walls do not share. Neither of them are brown, either, and the walls are, so there's yet another dissimilarity between themselves and the walls.]
thug four: No.
thug one [turning from looking at the light bulb (where he was looking, which wasn't mentioned previously, but consider this a retroactive stage direction, he was looking at the light bulb, perhaps contemplating something, but most definitely not looking at his fellow thugs by any means) to look at thug four]: What?
thug four: No.
thug one: No, right, fine and all, 'no', but where did you come from?
[thug three looks warily at the wall and nods, in what he imagines might be a sage-like manner, if sage's took to nodding at walls. Which they may or may not do, you never know, you just can't comment on that sort of thing until you become a sage, really, and then I'm guessing you'd be a bit sick of people asking you about it all the time and might not comment on it just because you want a bit of peace.]
[thug two shoots thug three a look, for stealing his own wary look, and seeing as how he would need to get a new gimmick now that his wary look had been appropriated. thug two shuffles around the tiny room for a little bit before deciding to stand in front of the stuffed pig's chair. thug two being somewhat short, this is close enough to sitting in the chair that he decides to flex his knees the requisite amount to sit on the edge of the chair, but just enough so that thug one won't notice he's sitting. Occasionally, to keep up the pretence that he is, in fact, standing, he shuffles his feet and twists his back a little.]
[The man in the chair, for those of you following along at home, had stopped blinking last week, poetically and otherwise. At the moment he didn't have a replacement gesture or mannerism to replace it with. He was considering a few things, none of which can be expressed easily without the use of hands, which, of course, the use of which he was without. With the arrival of thug two on the stuffed pig's chair the stuffed pig slumps even further down, and out of the top winding of rope, as you do when someone almost sits on you, and then fails to notice your existence.]
thug four: I, ehm, brought in the sandwiches. Which we all ate.
[the man in the chair nods. Not necessarily at the import of what thug four had said, nor in a particularly sage manner, as thug three noted, though it was a bit difficult for him to notice or comment on much of anything, what with the constant sage nodding at the wall. This, he figured, was why sages never said much. The man in the chair just nodded, and, realising he mostly agreed with thug four's account, changed it mostly seamlessly into an agreeable nod. One which, if you'd asked him, he might hope would get him out of the chair at some point rather soon, as his legs had fallen asleep at some point earlier in the week.]
thug one: Ah, can't argue with that, really. [thug one looks off-stage, which is difficult, them being in a room and a stage coming nowhere into the directions at all, perhaps someone taps out directions on the walls in Morse code. Not many people can translate Morse code on the fly, I'm guessing, but still, when you're stuck in a room with a lamp, three, ehm, four, men, another man, tied in a chair, and henceforth never counted amongst the men, and a stuffed pig. He looked poised to break into a jig again, which was the cause of all the anxiety the first time, and both thug three and thug four (the sandwich boy) looked concerned. thug two wiggled nervously in his seat, and wondered briefly why thug four should be concerned, as he wasn't there the first time it all went wrong.]
[The signal came in Morse code: Don't touch the peanut butter sandwiches.]
thug two: Ah damn, I had some of those... [which are his final words as he's attacked by the stuffed pig, whom had managed to work an arm free and fashioned a crude knife from the chair... or it may be he just got a splinter from the chair, which he'd been wiggling on, in retrospect, unwisely and far too vigourously.]
[The stuffed pig flopped over a little more in the chair, as you do when someone heaves themself off your chair and onto the floor.]
disclaimer:
[1] 'Popular' being a relative term. And 'request' being a polite way of saying "a whole lot of whinging."
This issue, if you hadn't guessed, or been told explicitly in our fine mailing, is a continuation of last week's, after much haranguing and carrying on from the masses for us to not do what we did last week.
Tune in next week for yet another episode of Sane! Maybe involving chickens, but who can tell!
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