The setting is present-day England. There are five main characters: Terry Jones (British, often referred to as ‘Jonesy‘), Eric Idle (British), Doctor Graham Chapman (British), Amelia Neelps (American), and Diane Bellmont (American).
SCENE I
Setting: Jonesy’s home. Door is stage left (viewer’s right). Jonesy is sitting on the couch (center stage) with a cutting knife in hand with a puzzled and worried expression.
Terry: Oh geez, not another one. I swear I’ve been cutting these things off for months! (*Rolls up pant leg, revealing large green spots*) I think this is rather abnormal. Maybe it comes with age, like liver spots? Who knows? (*Doorbell rings*) Ah, that must be someone who does. (*Gets up, goes to SL, opens door*) Ah, hello Dr. Graham! Won’t you come in?
Graham: I believe I shall. (*Walks in, sits down on couch. Terry follows.*) How’s it going, Jonesy old boy?
Terry: Not terribly well, I’m afraid.
Graham: Well, what seems to be the trouble? (*Pulls out pipe*)
Terry: Well, you see, it seems I have started growing mold…
Graham: An excellent hobby my dear boy! Growing things on top of other things can be relaxing. I know it relaxes me to grow a thick mask of whitish green mildew on top of that “healthy” wheat bread those hippies are trying to pawn off on us. Wheat bread? Puh. Useless bunch. Give them a haircut and a tenure in the army and that’ll set them straight.
Terry: No doctor, you’ve misunderstood. I’m not growing mold, it’s the other way around.
Graham: The mold is growing humans? How extraordinary! Though I must say that’s bound to turn quite a few heads…
Terry: No, mold is beginning to grow on me! I was just wondering if that’s normal for a person with (*Looks around and whispers*) my condition.
Graham: (*Laughs*) My dear boy, you make it sound as if it were the plague! (*Pops pipe in mouth, bubbles begin to blow out*)
Terry: Well, sometimes it feels like it. I wish sometimes I was just normal. I feel so ashamed.
Graham: (*Removes pipe*) My dear Terry, what have you to be ashamed of? Why, you are only one of fifteen people in the whole world to have a condition like this! A special thing, in my mind. If I were you, I would hold my head up high and declare “I am Terrence Jones, and I am a cheese person!”. In fact, I think I will go around and proclaim that, for I am not afraid!
Terry: Well, that’s all fine and dandy, but are you made of cheese?
Graham: Well, not quite, but I do eat a great deal of camembert at home…
Terry: Somehow I don’t find those two being one and the same. (*Sighs*) I just don’t think being made of cheese is necessarily the best thing for me right now. I’m a well respected comedian for Pete’s sake! To tell them all I am made of cheese would ruin me! They’d all thin me mad and I would be blackballed out of London.
Graham: No, I believe you’d be cheeseballed. He he he, get it? Cheeseballed? (*Chuckles, Terry glares*) Ah, seriously Jonesy, honesty is the best policy. I once knew a man from Nantucket- had the same condition as yours. I gave him the same advice, and feeling brave, he told the whole town. And you know what? The town understood, and they were happy for him. It was a great sense of liberation for him, too. (*Sigh*) I never actually saw him after that, although the next day they had a big cheese festival at the house next door. Vive el queso! Oh well, he missed a damn good party.
Terry: (*Grimaces*) Ah, well, I think I’ll stay in the refrigerator for the time being. Now, about this mold problem I’ve been having…
Graham: Ah, yes, yes, let’s have a look and see here… (*Puts pipe away. Terry sits, rolls up other pant leg and shirt sleeves*)
Terry: The only places these occur are on my arms and legs. I really don’t understand it all.
Graham: Hmm, that’s a rather pondering ponderable. Tell me, are you eating a balanced diet?
Terry: Sure, I eat pretty healthy. I’ve cut out most dairy and all cheese, though. I don’t like the overwhelming sense of being a cannibal.
Graham: Mmm… Hmm. And these indents in your leg?
Terry: Those are the other places where I’ve cut mold from, doctor. Some places have seemed to regenerate faster than others.
Graham: Well my boy, you aren’t suffering anything out of the ordinary. It seems you’re just suffering from a mild form of Calcimolditis. What that is is the lack of calcium in your diet is causing you to break out into mold, and when you cut the mold off you don’t regenerate that missing cheese fast enough, because of the missing calcium. So my advice to you is to drink massive cups of milk a day, maybe even some yogurt, or a bit of chocolate ice cream seems to do the trick. Please keep the milk skim, however, because you really aren’t getting any younger as is.
Terry: How long until I’m cured?
Graham: Well, if you start tomorrow it should only take a few weeks or so. Probably five, by my estimates.
Terry: Only five weeks? Wow, I would think it would take much longer!
Graham: It will if you don’t consume any calcium. ‘More is more’ as they always say. Now, let me help you cut off some of these mold things… (*Graham takes knife, skillfully makes cut, about to do another when doorbell rings*)
Terry: Coming! (*Hurriedly rolls down sleeves, pants. Graham sits on couch, clutching knife. Enter Eric*)
Eric: Why hello Jonesy! How’s it going? Good evening, Dr. Graham.
Graham: Ah, good evening Eric ole bean. I trust everything’s well?
Eric: Wonderful, excellent, super. Ah, Jonesy, there’s mold on your floor- again. I didn’t think mold could migrate.
Terry: (*Nervously*) Ah…well…you see…
Graham: We were just sampling a vintage brick of stinking bishop, and I’m afraid I carelessly cut off the mold and threw it on the floor. Whoops. Terribly sorry. (*Spears piece of mold on knife*) Here you are, Jonesy my boy.
Terry: (*Takes knife*) Thanks, doc.
Graham: Don’t mention it. (*Looks at pocket watch*) Ah, will you look at the time! I must be off. Places to see, people to go, twine to unwind. Eric, Jonesy. (*Nods to them and takes out pipe once more and exits*)
Eric: Since when has Graham been a doctor? (*Terry shrugs*) Ah, no matter- I need to borrow a tie from you.
Terry: A tie? Why? He he he, that rhymed!
Eric: (*Rolls eyes*) If we could focus on me- thank you. No, I’m going out on a date tonight, and we’re going someplace fancy.
Terry: Whoa, you taking someone someplace fancy? How long is this one going to last, three days?
Eric: No! I think this one's THE ONE!
Terry: Yeah, sure, just like you thought yesterday's girl was 'the one'. Or the gal the day before. Or two days before that. Forgive me for being a cynic, but your track record does nothing for your reputation.
Eric: Well, you’re wrong, she is the one.
Terry: Does 'she' have a name?
Eric: Sure she does! (*Terry looks on expectantly*) Oh, you want me to give you her name? It's... uh... Oh don't roll your eyes at me, you know I'm not good with names!
Terry: Yeah, sure, wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more.
Eric: Her name is Jane! ...Wait, no... Julie? No... Ingrid!
Terry: Ingrid?
Eric: No, it's Amelia. That sounds about right. Her name is Amelia!
Terry: Mmm hmm... And just where are you and 'Amelia' going?
Eric: Out, you dip! Actually, I was wondering if you could possibly do me a small favor.
Terry: Am I going to like this favor?
Eric: It depends. You see, Amelia has this mate of hers staying with her, and she didn't want to just abandon her...
Terry: Oh no, not me. I'm not going on a blind date with you.
Eric: Oh live a little Jonesy! Help a brother out!
Terry: Funny, we don't look a thing alike...
Eric: Hah, so amusing. Seriously, this date won't be fun if there's a third wheel. Please? (*Gets down on knees and gives Terry a puppy dog look*)
Terry: (*Sighs*) Alright, I'll go.
Eric: Excellent! Super! (*Gets up*) They'll be here in about an hour, so you'd better get ready. The restaurant won't let you in looking like that! (*Heads to door*)
Terry: Ok... wait! How did you know I'd say yes?
Eric: Heh... um... Hey, look! A can of SPAM! (*Exits*)
Terry: (*Shouting*) I'll SPAM you Eric! (*Sighs again*) Well, I guess I should go get ready... (*Exits stage right, fade out*)
SCENE II
Setting: Jonesy’s home, again. Apparently one hour later. Terry is sitting on the couch once more, this time fixing a tie, adorned in a nice suit.
Terry: Stupid Eric, setting me up with some stupid girl just so he can get some stupid (*Doorbell rings and interrupts him. He opens door, enter Eric with Amelia and Diane*) Hello Eric! Why, what charming dates.
Eric: Thank you, I know. (*Smiles broadly*) This charming brunette on my right is Amelia, my date. (*Amelia separates herself from Eric‘s arm and shakes Terry's hand*)
Amelia: How do you do, Mr. Jones?
Terry: Very well, thank you.
Amelia: Well that's goo- wait. Aren't you Terry Jones? THE Terry Jones?
Terry: (*Nervously*) Ah, yes.
Amelia: Troppo! Wow, THE Terry Jones! I'll never wash this hand again.
Terry: Nor will I.
Eric: (*Uncomfortably*) Charming, charming... And this is your date, Diane.
Terry: Nice to meet you, Diane. (*They shake hands*)
Diane: Likewise. Are you sure you’re Terry Jones? You’re too skinny to be him.
Terry: Should I take that as an insult or a compliment?
Diane: Neither, just stating a fact.
Eric: A ha ha! What a sense of humor. Jonesy, can I get that tie from you now... (*Both exit SR. Diane and Amelia sit on the sofa*)
Amelia: Wow, can you believe it? THE Terry Jones! I'm so excited! Can you believe our luck?
Diane: No, I always get the losers, if I’ve gotten anything, while you get the good guys. Gosh, I came to visit you and instead I get shoved with some git so you can go out with... (*Her voice falters*) Eric Idle.
Amelia: That's just not true! Eric asked me out, and it's only fair I give him a chance. If given the option I'd gladly switch with you for Jonesy.
Diane: Sure you would. Why switch carrots for lima beans?
Amelia: Come now, at least try to be happy about the situation. Please? (*Gives puppy dog look*)
Diane: (*Turns head away to hide expression*) Fine, but I don't know how you talked me into this... he smells like cheese.
Amelia: Diane!
Diane: Well, he does! (*Eric and Terry return*)
Eric: Who does what?
Amelia: Um... Jonesy has mold on the floor.
Terry: (*Blushes scarlet*) Oh, I’m sorry. We were a bit, er, reckless today I’m afraid.
Diane: Reckless? Well I’ve heard...
Amelia: (*In a rather loud voice*) Diane, your nose is shiny! It needs to be powdered. Where’s your bathroom? (*Terry points*)
Diane: But I don’t wear make-up- (*Is interrupted by Amelia grabbing her wrist and pulling her away nonetheless, exiting SR*)
Terry: You owe me, Eric.
Eric: Oh come now, Diane isn’t terribly bad.
Terry: Right, in the same way a bomb falling from the sky isn‘t bad. Come off it- she‘s not hiding her dislike towards me. I bet if given the chance she would hack me to death with an eye pencil. Couldn’t we switch? I’m sure I would get along sportingly with that lovely Amelia...
Eric: I’m sure you would, but she’s mine, mate. Please don’t give up on Diane, I’m sure she’s just getting adjusted to your lack of charm and looks and sense of humor.
Terry: Yeah, well, adjusted or not you owe me. Big. In fact, so hugely big that I want a yacht...
Eric: Oh shut your trap, won’t you? We’re going to be late. Ladies! Aren’t you done yet? (*Amelia and Diane reenter.*)
Amelia: As ready as we’ll ever be! Right, Diane?
Diane: Yes. (*Mumbles to self*) As ready as I’ll ever be. (*Leaves, followed by Eric*)
Amelia: I’m so sorry about Diane, Jonesy, she’s just so... Diane. Seriously, I owe you one. (*Also exits*)
Terry: (*Wistful sigh*) Damn you Eric, that better be a luxury sized yacht! The QE2 would be rather nice... (*Exits, fade out*)
SCENE III
Setting: Jonesy’s house again. Three hours later supposedly. A rather tired Terry and Eric enter the scene, Terry unhappy, Eric a little smug.
Terry: Oh. My. God. (*Plops on couch*)
Eric: You know, I had a pretty terrific time tonight.
Terry: Ah! Don’t say that! Why, pray tell, did you choose the ‘Cheese and Wine Emporia’ as our dining destination? Why???
Eric: Because it’s ritzy and gorgeous, and I thought Amelia would be impressed with my wealth. How was I suppose to know you were allergic to cheese grates?
Terry: Common courtesy I suspect. Ugh...
Eric: Well, at least they had enough vodka to keep your swelling down.
Terry: Yeah, but the lush jabs from Diane weren’t making things any better.
Eric: I suppose not. Still, you should learn to lighten up.
Terry: Lighten up? My skin was turning purplish-blue! If it weren’t for Amelia being concerned for my well-being, I would have been salad topping, sprawling all over your meals and rather upsetting the evening.
Eric: You did upset the evening you twat! Amelia, being the kind soul she is, spent more attention on you than me. I swear, had you not broken out, she would have been so enamored with me that I wouldn’t even be here right now.
Terry: Sure, you keep telling yourself that.
Eric: (*Glares*) Well, I guess the evening wasn’t a total loss. It was a lovely night to walk through the park…
Terry: Says who? It was cold and damp and kept making me sneeze. Personally, I’m just glad it’s over.
Eric: Well, I’m not. For some odd reason she hasn’t left my mind for a moment. Is that normal? Am I obsessive? Oh my god, am I becoming a freak?
Terry: No you stupid sod, that means you fancy her.
Eric: Oh, thank God, I was worried I was turning into you.
Terry: Is there a reason you’re still here? If you wouldn’t mind leaving, I have a date with the porcelain god...
Eric: Eh, what? Oh, sure! Here’s your tie. (*Takes off tie, heads to door*) See you tomorrow, and try not to stain your floor, it’s unattractive. (*Exits*)
Terry: (*Mimicking*) ‘It’s unattractive.’ Puh! I’ll show him unattractive. (*Doorbell rings, so Terry gets up*) Eric, what the... (*Opens door to find Amelia there*) Oh, hello Amelia.
Amelia: Evening, Jonesy.
Terry: Refresh my memory- We did drop you off, right?
Amelia: Yes, you did.
Terry: Right. Well, please come in. (*Amelia enters and takes seat on the couch. Terry plops down beside her*) Well, what can I do for you?
Amelia: Oh, well, I just came by because I was worried. I mean, you had fifteen shots of vodka, and I would think Eric would stay with you to hold your hair, but I just saw him go...
Terry: Yes, well, it was at my insistence. I didn’t want to bog him down.
Amelia: Perhaps I should go then...
Terry: Wait! I mean, you’ve come all this way, at least stay for a cup of tea or something.
Amelia: Sure, I could stay for a bit. Not terribly long mind you- I left Diane by herself. I don’t want her to feel neglected, but she was writing and wouldn’t speak much when I left anyway so I didn’t think she’d mind. She should hopefully be at it for a while... Writing, that is.
Terry: Tea then?
Amelia: Yes, please. (*Terry attempts to get up, but falls down*) Oh silly me! Let me go and prepare it.
Terry: How absurd! You’re my guest, and I insist on making the tea. (*He attempts to stand once more and falls again*)
Amelia: Just stay put, I’m perfectly capable of making some tea. Geez. (*Goes to kitchenette, prepares tea and such*)
Terry: Amelia, I’m terribly sorry I ruined your date with Eric. Breaking out wasn’t in the original plans, I’m afraid.
Amelia: Oh no, that’s perfectly alright. I... well... can you keep a secret?
Terry: No. But for you, perhaps.
Amelia: Well, you see... I am afraid of sponges.
Terry: Sponges?
Amelia: Yeah... Never mind, sorry- I was just trying to keep the conversation going...
Terry: No, perfectly alright. Just between you and me, I’m afraid of matches.
Amelia: Matches? How utterly bizarre! I thought I was being stupid... (*Laughs*)
Terry: Well I’m glad you find me so funny. Laughingstock Jones at your service.
Amelia: Aw, come on. (*Pours tea, puts on tray, comes and sits by Terry*) You just need to obtain a sense of humor. After all, isn’t that what comedians are all about?
Terry: No. (*Takes teacup*) Humor is in the toe of the shoe, per se. Comedians are out to make themselves laugh, but if the audience laughs in addition it’s a bonus. I mean, if I were to take a sausage and a rather large gavel...
Amelia: (*Interrupts*) Um, there’s something orange dripping off your hand.
Terry: Oh, really? I don’t see anything.
Amelia: But I do. It’s right there. (*Points at Terry’s hand*)
Terry: Oh... ah... that... that’s nothing.
Amelia: Nothing? Oh geez, orange stuff is starting to drip onto your carpet! My God, it looks like your hand is beginning to melt!
Terry: Hand? Melt? A ha ha, you are just too much! I should incorporate you into an act. He he heh. (*Pries cup off hand, sets on tea tray*)
Amelia: Well, what is it?!
Terry: Hmm? ...Oh, don’t worry, it’s just the... uh... enamel on my tea cups. I bought them imported from... erm... the United States. Yeah, that’s it. Damn Yanks, can’t even make a proper tea cup, heh.
Amelia: Enamel?. ..Ok, well, let me get something to wipe that up with. (*Goes to sink while Terry takes off his jacket, revealing a T-shirt. Amelia returns and hands Terry a cloth*)
Terry: Thanks. I’ve never really had trouble with these cups before. Must have been the heat.
Amelia: Yeah, I have a tendency to overheat my tea water- sorry!
Terry: No problem, I never really did like those cups, they were too green.
Amelia: Yeah... wait. Oh, you’ve got something on your arm. (*Rubs at piece of mold*) Hmm, it’s not coming off... (*Rubs harder, then begins to pick at it*) I can’t get it off. It’s. Got. To Come. OFF! (*Scratches off green patch, and a chunk of arm goes with it*)
Terry: Oh wow, you’ve got some nails there- long, long nails. Can you pick a lock with them? He he, get it? Nails, locks... Why do you look so mortified? I know it was a horrible joke, but I thought it was rather witty.
Amelia: I... you... there’s no blood! I just took a chunk out of your arm and there’s no blood!
Terry: Of course not. That’s because... ah... you didn’t gouge me. Yep, that’s right, nothing happened.
Amelia: That’s not true! I just... you... there’s the piece of mold on the ground, right over there.
Terry: Um, nope, sorry. That’s a sample of my... erm... vintage mold, circa 1955. What a beaut‘. If you stare at it long enough, it turns pink. What remarkable things they were doing in those days. I really should watch where I put my specimen. I’ll have to show you my whole collection sometime.
Amelia: I... but... there’s a gouge on your arm…?
Terry: Oh, that’s a mean bite I got while playing... chess.
Amelia: Chess?
Terry: Eric can get very vicious and competitive, so next time you play something with him watch your fingers. Why, what’s wrong? You seem rather pale.
Amelia: I guess I’m more exhausted than I thought. Wow.
Terry: Yeah, when somebody starts rambling about gouging and they aren’t a lawyer, I think something must be wrong.
Amelia: He he he, gouging! I get that.
Terry: Oh, now I know you’re really tired.
Amelia: (*Smiles*) Well, I guess I should get going then. Thanks for having me in, Jonesy- you’re a lot of fun to be around.
Terry: Well, as I always say, there is only one thing worse than being fun, and that is painting a portrait with a shoe. Trust me on that one.
Amelia: Can do. (*Heads to door and Terry follows*)
Terry: Well, thanks again, I really appreciate you coming. Goodnight!
Amelia: ’Night! (*Amelia exits and Terry collapses on couch*)
Terry: Oh. My. God. (*Lights off*)
SCENE IV
Setting: Jonesy’s house as usual, though it is dark and early in the morning. Jonesy is laying down on his couch when the doorbell rings persistently.
Terry: (*Flips on light*) Urgh! Alright, I’m coming! (*Opens door, and Graham enters*) Oh, doctor, come on in.
Graham: Good morning my dear boy! How is it going? Not bad, thank you for asking.
Terry: Huh? ...What time is it?
Graham: Why it’s terribly late! It’s already 6:45!
Terry: (*Sarcastic*) Oh, how horrid. Forgive me for not being on top of things. Er, is there a reason you’re here so ear--late?
Graham: I was just passing by when I saw the milkman. I followed him on his route for a while, deciding that maybe I’d get you some milk.
Terry: That’s good. Where is it?
Graham: Terrible thing, terrible thing. The milk bottles took a suicide leap. Yes. I was just walking down the street, minding my own pipe, when they just leapt and ended up crashing upon the cement. Tragic. By the by, you owe me five pound for those.
Terry: I what?
Graham: Well, they certainly weren’t cheap!
Terry: (*Grumbling*) Fine. I’ll get you your money later. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get back to bed...
Graham: Righto, I’ll just... Whoa! Jonesy old boy, whatever happened to your hand?
Terry: A exponentially hot tea cup happened to my hand. (*Sighs*)
Graham: Tea cup eh?
Terry: Yeah. I had someone over last night and she made the tea a little too warm... scalding, actually.
Graham: Hmm... What kind of tea did you serve?
Terry: Earl Grey, I believe.
Graham: Good. Better to be burned by a British tea than so-called “green” tea. Those hippies are infiltrating our system and degrading the good word of tea. None of this wishy-washy tea for us, thank you. What-ho! There’s a huge ditch on your arm. Did the tea irrigate that as well?
Terry: No, my guest saw a spot of mold and tried to rub it off. Well, she got it off alright- it just took the rest of my arm with it.
Graham: Oh? Well, you’ve done a good job reattaching it, I daresay. Can’t even tell it came off in the first place. So did she figure out your little secret?
Terry: Not that I’m aware of, but I messed up the whole thing. Now she thinks I’m some weird freak.
Graham: Don’t we all? Well, tough break, you’ll just end up alone and moldy... Gah! It’s 6:55! I’m running late! Well, must be on my way. Cheerio! (*Hurriedly exits*)
SCENE V
Setting: It is a dark cement room- Dr. Chapman’s ‘laboratory’, so to speak. It is a lonesome place, and cramped, with a dusty bookshelf, a desk littered with notes, a long thin metal table with bubbling medicines, and a single crudely-made chair in the shadowed corner. Graham enters the room, grumbling to himself, looking troubled and rushed.
Graham: Ah, that Jonesy, making me late! It’s already 7:03! I think I’ll get him a watch for Christmas... Well, it’s time to get to work. I’m almost finished, I just need to add some garnish. (*Takes glass from refrigerator*) I think a bit of oregano should top this off. (*Puts in spice, stirs oddly-shaped tube*) Excellent, I’m a genius! I believe I have just finished the perfect medicine for Jonesy. It will mess about with his genetic code a bit, but by the time it leaves his system, foomp!, he’ll be a regular human, just like he’s always wanted. Oh, he’ll love me so much, and it will be so ingenious I shall get an award... The Graham Chapman honorary honor... Oh, I can see it all now, in glistening lights on the marquee... Simply exciting! But first, before I patent this wonderful invention, I should probably see if it will work. Seeing as how there is no other cheese person for miles around, I shall simply test it myself. (*Drinks contents*) Well, that’s not too ba-- (*Falls to ground, writhers about, stops, and gets up*) Ah, what have we here? Jonesy’s medicine? Why should, or would, I work on anything for him? I have boundlessly helped him out whenever mold pops up on his body, or when he begins to melt, but when does he return the favor? Never, I say! Grr, that cheese! How have I let him walk around all these years, with all that bountiful cheese going to waste??? Yes… all that cheese… going to waste… Hmm... (*Begins to chant in an evil tone*)
I think I shall hatch a plan to obtain this wasted cheese
And then dispose of it as I please.
Now lets see what I have in the cupboards (*Rummages, finally pulls out bottle*)
A ha! Poison, a chemist’s friend.
Something that will take Jonesy to an end.
I will slip it in some tea,
A tiny doctor’s gift from me.
He shall drink and think nothing of it
But in a matter of hours he will snuff it
Then, after the funeral is recessed,
I shall dig him up and have him processed! (*Doorbell rings*)
A ha, it’s Eric! Maybe I can give him the tea
And, he in the process, give it to Jonesy!
Then there will be two sets of prints,
So the police can’t finger me. (*Opens door and enter Eric*)
Eric: Good morning Dr. Graham! I didn’t disturb you, did I?
Graham: Um... No, I was just practicing my prose.
Eric: Oh, going out for a Shakespeare part?
Graham: You could say that. Now, do you have something pressing?
Eric: Yes. Do you have any sugar? I’m trying to lure ants into my house.
Graham: Into your house? Why, whatever for?
Eric: Because I want to have a picnic this evening with the sweetest woman in the world!
Graham: I hate to break this to you, but I don’t thing Barbara Streisand will want to come to a picnic. She is Jewish after all...
Eric: No, not Barbara Streisand! The most gorgeous woman in the world, the woman who I want to spend the rest of my life with...
Graham: Cher?
Eric: No! My love, Amelia. Dear, sweet, gentle Amelia... (*Sighs*)
Graham: I don’t think I have any of her records... In any case, I don’t have any sugar. Sorry about that.
Eric: Oh. Well, perhaps I’ll go ask Jonesy. He doesn’t have much else to do.
Graham: If you’re going that way, could you drop something off for me? (*Pours tea into thermos, pours poison in when Eric isn‘t looking, caps it, and gives the thermos to Eric*) Tell him he must drink it all at once. It’s a remedy for his hand.
Eric: What did he do to his hand?
Graham: He hurt it. Anywho, you should be on your way. Don’t hesitate to call again. Ta! (*Hurriedly ushers Eric to the door*)
Eric: Ok. Tell me how the audition goes. Bye! (*Exits*)
Graham: Excellent! If all goes according to plan, I’ll be having fondue by the end of the night! (*Evilly cackles, end scene*)
SCENE VI
Setting: Back to Jonesy’s house. Jonesy is sprawled on the couch, clutching his stomach and moaning, eyes squeezed tight.
Terry: Ohhh... in... so... much... pain. Now I remember why I don’t drink... urg... (*Doorbell rings*) I really should disconnect that blasted thing. Come in, come in… (*Enter Amelia*)
Amelia: Good morning Jonesy! We were just passing by when we thought we’d stop in.
Terry: We?
Amelia: Diane’s in the car. Ah, you don’t look so well. Is it from all that liquor last night?
Terry: You could say that. Urg!
Amelia: Here, let me get you something that you can... place your projectile into. (*Looks around, grabs random bucket and hands it to Terry*) There, is there anything else you need? Gosh, you look feverish. Let me get you some water. (*Pours water from pitcher on side table*)
Terry: Thank you. (*Takes water*) You don’t have to do that, you know. I can manage on my own. Seriously, I’ll be fine.
Amelia: You’re not fine, you look horrible and green about the gills. I insist upon staying until you can truly manage on your own, and right now you can’t.
Terry: Persistence and stubbornness- a family trait of yours?
Amelia: My mother was a nurse. Now hold still, I’ll get you a cold compress. (*Grabs cloth, dips in water, puts on Terry’s forehead) There. I think from now on you should stay away from the heavier alcohol. If you break out again, try some wine.
Terry: Thanks, I’m sure my liver appreciates that. So, your mother was a nurse?
Amelia: Yeah. As a child I would pretend to be a nurse, and my mother would just sit back and laugh at my ramblings. Of course, eventually she taught me a lot about medicine and helping people and such. I thought I’d always have her around, someone to go to, but then she...
Terry: You don’t have to go on. I understand, and I’m sorry.
Amelia: No, it’s fine. I mean, things like this happen all the time. I just didn’t think it’d happen so soon. I mean, who even moves to Australia, anyway? Convicts, that’s who. Convicts and Americans.
Terry: What?
Amelia: Yeah, my mother moved to Australia, for a change of scenery and a nice place to retire, I guess. It’s rather sad, really, and it takes forever just to fly there. Still, I got her house in the city for a reasonable price, and Di lives with me, so I’m rather content.
Terry: I see. What do you do for a living?
Amelia: I do secretarial work for a law firm. Minor step, really. I had wanted to become a nurse, but getting there is still a huge step away. What about you, Jonesy? Are you happy where you’re at right now?
Terry: Well, yes and no. Yes, because I’m living comfortably and am esteemed by my colleagues. No, because I’m alone and am suffering the effects of over-consumption of alcohol.
Amelia: Well then, why don’t you just get out there, become a free spirit, and find somebody?
Terry: Because I’m not happy with myself; I’m not happy with who I am.
Amelia: Well, you’ve just got to hold your head up high and say, “I am Jonesy”. You can’t hold back. If you’re comfortable with someone, you tell them who you are, and hopefully they should take you for that.
Terry: You’re sure?
Amelia: Pretty sure.
Terry: Well... (*Takes a deep breath*) I am Terrence Jones, and I am a cheese person.
Amelia: See, that’s great! ...Wait. What did you say?
Terry: I... I’m... I’m a cheese person. I’m one-hundred percent cheese.
Amelia: Oh. I thought that’s what you said. Are you sure? I mean, not that I doubt you, but...
Terry: Yes, I think I would know. I am entirely made out of cheese. Well, almost- I think most of my innards are real…
Amelia: How does that happen?
Terry: It’s a very rare genetic condition. If your mother eats too much cheese and cheese byproducts during the nine month pregnancy, you end up coming out as a human cheese entity. I am a mixture of Cheddar and Swiss. Sweddar, as the experts call it.
Amelia: Oh, wow. That’s fascinating! You definitely wouldn’t read about this in any medical journal. Would you mind if I took a bite out of your arm?
Terry: I suppose not. Just mind the mold. (*Amelia takes a bite*)
Amelia: Mmm, yummy. Well, that explains it all. But why didn’t you just tell me last night? Wouldn’t that have been easier?
Terry: Perhaps, but you may have had a different reaction. Besides, it’s all about comfort level, right?
Amelia: That’s true. If we’re on honesty, though, I haven’t been terribly honest... (*Enter Eric who interrupts her*) Hello, Eric!
Eric: I went over to your place my dear, but found you gone. I came to talk to Jonesy and saw your car with Diane sitting inside, looking intently at her watch. I do say I have the most impeccable luck. Well, there’s something I need to talk to you about, Amelia.
Amelia: Uh, sure.
Terry: I think I’ll take this as my cue to go projectile somewhere else.
Eric: Oh, before you go, here’s something Dr. Graham gave me to give to you. Something to help your hand.
Terry: (*Takes thermos*) Thanks. (*Exits*)
Amelia: (*Sits down*) Come, take a seat. What’s on your mind?
Eric: I would prefer to stand, but thank you. …You know Amelia, I’m not a modest man. In fact, I’ve always been quite a twit. But then I met you. I remember that day all too well. It was a rainy day, and I had stopped into the department store to buy an umbrella. Well, I remember you grabbed the last one just as I had placed my hand upon it. Ah… do you remember it?
Amelia: Which part? The part where you wrestled with me in the middle of the aisle, grappling for the umbrella, which was truly mine? Or maybe the part when I let go and you proceeded to laugh at me until security showed up and you ran away?
Eric: I’m glad you look back on it as fondly as I do. And remember how I ended up giving you the umbrella and walking beside you in the rain?
Amelia: I must admit, that was rather sweet.
Eric: And our first date last night... not the best of evenings.
Amelia: Still, it was very enjoyable.
Eric: Well, I agree, I had an abundance of fun last night. That being said, I was wondering if you might be willing to come with me on a picnic. You know, just a nice little intimate affair. It’s a beautiful day outside, I thought maybe we could have our picnic in the park- what do you say?
Amelia: I... uh... (*Hears Terry puking*) Sure. Why not. When?
Eric: Is right now good for you?
Amelia: Yeah, sure, just let me tell Di to drive the car home. (*Re-enter a sickly Terry*)
Terry: Hey, going so soon? (*Drinks from thermos*)
Amelia: Yeah, sorry. I’ll catch you later though, ok?
Terry: Sure, you kids have fun. (*Eric and Amelia exit*) Well, so much for time with Amelia…. (*Finishes contents of thermos*) Hmm... (*Suddenly drops thermos, and falls to ground in pain. Lights out*)
SCENE VII
Setting: Diane and Amelia’s house, in Diane’s room. Diane is all alone on her bed, tears slowly streaming down her cheeks, hugging herself a photo of a certain someone we know clutched in her left hand.
Diane: ‘Drive home, I promise I’ll be there soon.’ God, how many times will I be blown off? I suppose Amelia can’t help it. She’s been pretty all her life, and I’m not, and that‘s not her fault. But she’s never had to be pushed to the side because her friend wants to go out with some guy. She’ll never feel the pain of watching her friend go out with all the best men, especially one in particular… (*Her hands clenches the photo more tightly*) Argh! And this it will never end- I will never be the happy one. I will never be the one with two guys drooling over her. I’m continually sitting there in feigned oblivion pretending not to notice! Doomed to forever be on the sidelines, cheering Amelia on, supporting her but never receiving any myself… I suppose I can’t begrudge her, she doesn’t do it all on purpose, but when will it be my turn? When can I be the one with some compassion? Someone who will hold me in his arms, and never want to let me go? Never, never in a million years. (*She cries harder*) All I want to be loved! I want love!!! Is that so terribly hard to ask??? (*Sobbing now*) There’s nothing for me here. There’s nothing for me anywhere... Yet I must be the strong one in the background, always watching and waiting… hoping… and wishing…
SCENE VIII
Setting: Eric and Amelia are having a picnic in a park on a sunny afternoon.
Eric: Isn’t this such a beautiful day? Gosh, and the park just adds to the majestic beauty.
Amelia: Yeah, it’s very nice... Do you think Jonesy will be alright by himself? He wasn’t looking that well before we left...
Eric: I don’t think he would have let you go if he wasn’t feeling better.
Amelia: That’s true, but I just have this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that something’s not right and... Well, forget it. This is truly lovely, Eric, thank you.
Eric: Thank you for agreeing to come. (*Sets down picnic basket*) I’ve made us a nice light lunch, and brought a soft, warm blanket to sit on. (*Sets out blanket, and both sit*)
Amelia: Wow, you’ve put in a huge effort.
Eric: Well, I feel it a priority to put a huge effort into anything for you.
Amelia: Stop Eric, you’ll make me blush.
Eric: I’m perfectly serious, my dear. You’ve changed me. I’ve always had this facade where I felt I needed to feel superior to everybody else. But then you entered the picture. You’re so kind and caring and gentle, and you rubbed off on me. One thought of you and my icy heart melted. Thoughts of you are never be far from my mind… Like the way your hair blows in the wind. Or how those big blue eyes offset your lovely, radiant smile. You’ve evoked feelings of which I’ve never felt. You’ve caused me to feel for someone else, to care about someone else, to love someone else. You are that someone else. You are my rock. You are the strings on my guitar. You are all the love songs on my Beatle albums. I guess what I’m trying to say...
Amelia: Jonesy! (*Her eyes go big and round*) Eric, I have to go. I just don’t feel right, something’s not right here...
Eric: I... but... Amelia, after all I’ve said?
Amelia: I’m truly sorry Eric, really I am. It’s just... Jonesy might need me. I’m so very, truly sorry. I hope that someday you can forgive me, but right now I’ve got to go... (*Runs off and exits SL*)
Eric: She’s gone. She just left. I’ve never felt this way before; I’m shattered. My heart aches like it was just jabbed with a needle. How could she just get up and go like that? For Jonesy, none the less! She just took my heart, threw it to the ground, stomped on it, and ran over it with a car. I... am... speechless. (*He sits there in shock, almost looking like he’s going to cry when Graham enters*)
Graham: Ah, Eric, just the fellow I was looking for. Did you give Jonesy the tea?
Eric: Jonesy... the twat... yes, I gave him the tea.
Graham: Capitol, capitol. And, pray tell, how was the old chap feeling?
Eric: Fine. Fine enough to steal away the love of my life.
Graham: Drat! The plan doesn’t seem to be working. Well, time to go to Plan B. (*Takes out pistol*) Eric, I’m kidnapping you. One false move and you’re finished.
Eric: In Amelia’s mind, and in my heart, I am already finished. Do what you will Graham- you’ll have no resistance from me.
Graham: Really? Are you sure? Not even a small yelp?
Eric: Nope, I am completely subdued.
Graham: Hmm, the book doesn’t mention this. You’re suppose to be flailing about, screaming for help, or something like that.
Eric: I’ve just had my heart broken, I don’t care what becomes of me.
Graham: Fair enough. Now lets get a move on, I’ve got a note to deliver to our good friend! (*He evilly cackles again and the lights go out*)
SCENE IX
Setting: Amelia arrives in a panic at Jonesy’s house, which is dark. She bangs on the door and finds it is unlocked, opens it, and enters.
Amelia: Jonesy? Are you alright? You should really turn on some lights, sitting in the dark makes things seem out of place. (*She flips on light only to find Terry on the floor*) Oh. My. God. Jonesy? Jonesy, wake up! Jonesy, can you hear me? Oh! (*Rushes to phone and dials*) Pick up... pick up... Hello? Diane? It’s me. You need to get over to Jonesy’s fast... No, now!... He’s dying! Yes, please hurry... Thanks. (*Hangs up and goes and kneels by Terry) Jonesy... Jonesy... What’s this? The thermos! (*Takes thermos and suspiciously sniffs it*) My Hugh! It smells like there was something foul in there. But why? Why would Dr. Graham do such a thing? It doesn’t make sense!
Terry: Urg...
Amelia: Jonesy? Jonesy!
Terry: Amel--
Amelia: Yes, Jonesy, it’s Amelia. Jonesy, what happened?
Terry: I... drank...
Amelia: You drank from the thermos?
Terry: Mmm hmm…
Amelia: That’s what I thought. Jonesy hon, you’ve been poisoned I believe. I don’t know why, but it’s from the stuff you drank from the thermos.
Terry: But Dr. Graham...
Amelia: I know he gave it to you, but I haven’t gotten that far yet. So please hold on. Don’t fall back asleep on me, whatever you do, keep awake. No, don’t! (*Terry goes back to an unresponsive state*) Oh damn. You have to live hon, you have to live! I can’t let you die, just hold on. (*Diane enters in a flurry*)
Diane: I got here as fast as I could. How’s he doing?
Amelia: He was responsive for a bit but then... he fell out of it.
Diane: Oh dear. I found this envelope on the step, unaddressed. Should I?
Amelia: Yes. Maybe it’s some clue or something.
Diane: Ok...
“Dear Jonesy,
It seems the poison isn’t doing its job. Those bloody environmentalists, always fiddling things about… In any case, I’ve decided to take my diatribe one step further. I have kidnapped Eric, and I don’t know how long he will remain in an intact form. However, if you come and give yourself up, I will gladly leave him unharmed. If not, he might make a nice stick of butter. Or my latest guinea pig.
~Dr. Graham”
Amelia: He intended to poison Jonesy?! How could he? Why?
Diane: More importantly, he’s got Eric! (*She trembles*) Oh my. Jonesy isn’t well enough to go down there. Jonesy would probably die before he got there. What a sick, twisted man! How can he do this, they trusted him! (*She pauses and bites her lip, thinking of a few hours ago.*) There only one thing we can do. I’ve got to go down there before he kills him. You need stay here with Jonesy, in case anything should happen, be it good or bad. I have to try and free Eric. If I’m not back in twelve hours, then try and come our way.
Amelia: Be careful!
Diane: Don’t waste any of your energy on me- you’ve got Jonesy to worry about. (*She sadly turns her head away and exits*)
Amelia: Oh what a mess! Just don’t die on me Jonesy, you can’t, because I love you. (*Lights out*)
SCENE X
Setting: Graham is pacing about his laboratory, hands clasped behind his back and he goes to and fro impatiently. Eric is chained to the solitary chair, bleeding heavily from a wound inflicted upon his chest by Graham going into a rampage from waiting for the death of Terry.
Graham: I delivered that note over an hour ago. Why hasn’t he shown up? Maybe I should have just kidnapped him, instead of going about it the long way.
Eric: He just doesn’t care about me, neither he nor Amelia do. They’re in cahoots to get rid of me so they can run off together into the sunset… (*His head droops as his chest bleeds*)
Graham: Why didn’t you tell me that before? You would have saved me a trip to the bookstore for the kidnapping book. I’m charging you ten pounds for that, should you get out of here alive.
Eric: What?
Graham: Well, if I can’t get Jonesy, you would make a rather enticing lump of butter. Or a nice guinea pig for my poisons and such.
Eric: I think I’ll pass, thanks.
Graham: Well, you have no choice, you did come here of your own free will… in a way.
Eric: Stupid broken heart. This is why you don’t get involved with love. (*A single tear escapes a from corner of one of his brilliant blue eyes as suddenly there is a loud banging on the door*)
Graham: Finally, I thought he’d never show up! Then again, Jonesy was never one to be on time. (*He opens door to see a strange figure adorned in heavy armor with a long recurve bow and quiver filled with arrows* Behind the helmet, a pair of eyes are glowing with anger.*) What-ho! You’re not Jonesy.
Diane: Not hardly. No, you’ve seen to it he’s been poisoned. He’s slowly dying as we speak.
Eric: Poisoned? Dying?
Diane: Dr. Graham here poisoned Jonesy for some sick, twisted plot!
Graham: To get him processed, actually. I feel to have that much cheese just walking around unused is an insult to cheese, and humankind eating habits, everywhere.
Diane: What are you blithering about? (*She twitches irritably and sets an arrow on her string. Graham doesn’t seem to notice this.*)
Graham: As if you didn’t know...
Diane: Know what?
Graham: That Jonesy isn’t human, he’s a cheese person. Sweddar, to classify. Well, I guess that since Jonesy can’t get here anymore...*pulls out pistol*...I must dispose of all the evidence. I might have considered letting you live, but now you know too much... (*Diane shrieks in fright, and Graham fires- but the bullet bounces off of her armor and instead flies across the room and strikes Eric.*)
Graham drops his gun and seeks another mean of attack as Diane screams to see Eric fall limp in the chair. This, she cannot bear. She loses all control and fires an arrow towards Graham, which misses. She fires arrow one, which also misses, but hits one of his potions that explodes into flames. The room slowly starts to fill with smoke and fire as Diane coughs and searches for Graham, who is hiding with a knife. She stumbles about, eyes burning, trying to reach Eric as the flames threaten to lick at her. Finally, she reaches Eric, and tries in vain to undo his chains.
Graham: Looking for this? (*He holds out a key*) You can’t save him. You can’t save himself. You can’t save Jonesy. I will have my cheesecake- and you will become ash that perhaps I could try adding in for some spice…
Diane: You’re a sick man! How have any of us ever harmed you??? Who do you think you are???
Graham: Why, I’m a genius is who I am. The question is: who are you? (*He suddenly lurches forward and knocks her to the ground, and her helmet rolls off*) Hah, you! Never would have guessed. No matter, I have already won. Too bad you’re going to be charcoal- you would have made a lovely glass of milk. Even if you are silly enough to wear armor like you’re some type of hero. (*He lifts the knife, and thrusts. But he misses and instead stabs her arm.*) Alas! There’s blood not milk. Hmm. (*Diane thrusts her strength and is able to throw Graham off of her, and pulls her small sword. He laughs to challenge her as the room clogs, but steps back on a vial that has fallen off his desk, slips, and falls. Diane sighs and sheaths her sword*)
Diane: Oh Eric… Eric… (*She coughs heavily as she grapples for the key, and when finding it, does her best to undo his chains with her good arm*) Speak to me… Eric! (*He does not respond. Wearily, she pulls him from the chair, and attempts to drag him out of the room. She makes it up the stairs and out of the building and collapses.*)
Scene XI
Setting: Jonesy’s house, where Amelia is cradling Terry’s limp, pale body. She is fretful for him, and for Diane and Eric.
Amelia: (*Pacing*) What’s taking Diane so long? I can’t do it, three people I care about, dead… (*There is a weak knock at the door and Amelia opens it to see Diane quivering to support Eric over her shoulder.*)
Diane: Hurry!
Amelia: What the…? Eric…? You…? Armor…?
Diane: And cheese, we mustn’t forget cheese! And butter, and milk! (*She sets Eric gently upon the other sofa and quickly unclasps her armor and studies him, blinking back more tears as she clutches her own arm*)
Amelia: You’re hurt.
Diane: It’s only a flesh wound. (*Eric suddenly moans, and wakes*) Oh my god, Eric!
Eric: You... you saved me… (*He looks up into her concerned expression*) I thought nobody would come.
Diane: (*Said tearfully as she begins to remove his shirt*) Don’t be absurd, there are plenty of us who would gladly give their lives to save you.
Eric: Really? I didn’t think anybody cared...
Diane: I care! Amelia cares! You shouldn’t say such things, and you need to rest.
Eric: No, she doesn’t. She cares about Jonesy. That’s why she left me in the middle of one of the most beautiful things I ever said… (*Amelia, ashamed, turns her head away*)
Diane: She did? Well, Amelia has always been rather unpredictable. I wouldn’t take it too personally.
Eric: I know, I guess it really wasn’t meant to be. That’s alright, I’ve been single before. I’m surprised though, that you’re still single. You’re really quite lovely you know.
Diane: (*She half-laughs as she cries*) You’re just saying that because I saved your life, but thank you nevertheless.
Eric: No, I’m perfectly serious. Your very sweet… very witty…very caring, and you’ve got a beautiful smile.
Diane: (*Says nothing but bites her lip as she begins to clean his wounds. Suddenly, there‘s another knock at the door. Graham staggers in.*) Evil madman, get out of here! You poison Jonesy, kidnap Eric, try to kill us both, and then dare return here?
Graham: (*Blinks about*) I say… this seems to be a bit of a mess, my. (*He moans and holds his head*) Has there been some sort of misunderstanding? I’ve done nothing of that sort. The last thing I remember is testing my newest medicine designed to help Jonesy’s cheeseness. I believe the medicine backfired and that’s all I remember. That and waking up and stumbling here to this warm reception.
Diane: (*Shakes fist*) You were going to turn Eric into butter, and me into milk!
Graham: What? I’ve already got plenty of butter, thanks. Now where did I put that glass of milk...
Eric: (*Gazing onwards*) Wait, you don’t remember anything from this morning? Anytime?
Graham: No... why? Should I?
Diane: I’ll say. Graham, because of the effects of that medicine, you became exceedingly evil. (*Her eyes narrow. Amelia is sitting in the background, still with Jonesy, looking onward and letting Diane take the reigns with this one.*) You obtained the mentality that you should kill Jonesy and process his cheesiness. So you poisoned him, and when you thought that didn’t work, you kidnapped Eric. So Jonesy is now dying, and there’s nothing we’re able to do. Not to mention myself and Eric here aren’t in the best of shape.
Graham: Well, that certainly is a dilly of a pickle. Hmm... I believe I can mix up something that can help him. I think the soy milk mold application just might do the trick. I’ve only tested it on a few ants, so I’m not terribly sure it works, but it’s all I’ve got. (*He pulls a small vial out of his pocket*) First, I’d like to get him off the floor. (*Eric and Graham pick Terry off of the floor and place him on the couch*) Ok, now if somebody would prop his mouth open... (*Amelia opens Terry’s mouth, and Graham pours in the liquid*)
Amelia: Now what?
Graham: Now we sit and wait... (*Pulls out pipe, begins to blow bubbles*)
Amelia: Eric, I’m so sorry about earlier.
Eric: (*He groans as Diane continues to treat his wound before her own*) No need to apologize, I understand your motive. Gut instincts are hard things to resist, especially if they concern somebody you love. No, I don’t hate you, in fact I think it may have been the best thing you’ve done for me.
Amelia: What do you mean?
Eric: Because I think I’ve found someone who I truly care for this time… because she risked everything. Because she was there when I needed her the most.
Diane: (*Voice faltering*) Don’t be ridiculous…
Eric: I have found who I love. And this time I am sure. (*He slowly lifts his arm and wraps it around Diane. She doesn’t resist, and he pulls her in, and they kiss tenderly. Amelia smiles warmly in the background as they blossom in front of her.*)
Diane: (*Coming back up, face tinted pink*) For your sake, Amelia, I do hope Jonesy gets better.
Amelia: Me too.
Terry: Me too.
Amelia: Jonesy! (*Kneels on floor, takes Terry’s hand*)
Terry: Wow, had I known everybody’s reception would be so warm, I would take poison all the time. Heh heh. (*Points to Graham*) And you- remind me when I get better to kick your...
Diane: Jonesy!
Terry: What the hell’s he doing here anyway?
Eric: It was all a mistake Jonesy ole chap. He was working on something to cure your... cheesiness… and it backfired.
Graham: Yes, a silly mistake when I look back on it all now. I should have put in more iodine and less cream of wheat. Very silly indeed. Still, I had this little concoction that saved your life just lying around in my pocket.
Terry: Well, I guess thanks are in order...
Graham: ...And fifty pounds.
Terry: What!
Graham: Well, I used my award winning poison saving device on your life, and I didn’t write the recipe down. Now I have to go and make a new one from scratch. Usually most people would charge you a spleen and a pancreas, but I’m only charging fifty pounds...
Terry: But you started all this! You nearly killed me!
Graham: Oh don’t exaggerate. I didn’t kill you, I just nearly finished you off. In any case, I have to charge you the standard fee due to the national doctor protocol.
Terry: Isn’t it time you leave?
Graham: Why, yes it is. I’ve got a hair appointment I am terribly late for. Well, keep him from doing strenuous work for a while, and make sure he gets lots of milk. I’ll check back later in the week. Cheerio! (*Exits*)
Terry: So... I guess you all know my secret now.
Diane & Eric: Yeah.
Terry: And...?
Eric: I think it’s rather brilliant! Explains a lot as well... It has the potential to be a very good screenplay...
Terry: No, but thanks.
Diane: I think… I think my arm hurts.
Terry: Thanks... I think.
Eric: And my chest hurts. (*Takes Diane’s hand*) But I know the perfect healing treatment. (*She grins, and they envelope themselves in one another. Lights dim on them*)
Amelia: I’m just so glad you pulled out of it. We were all worried you were gone.
Terry: No, you can’t rid of me that easily. Seriously, it was agony. Although now I’m pretty certain my body hates me, but hopefully I’ll be back to my normal self soon. I’m sorry I ended up disrupting yours and Eric’s date.
Amelia: It’s alright. I don’t think it would have worked out anyway. Besides, Diane’s finally happy, so what more could I ask for?
Terry: Hmm... so did you mean what you said?
Amelia: What did I say?
Terry: Earlier you said “Just don’t die on me Jonesy, you can’t, I love you”. Did you mean it?
Amelia: Yes, yes I did. I love you Jonesy.
Terry: I love you too, Amelia. (*Amelia and Terry kiss passionately and the lights slowly fade out---The End*)
