Potato Dumplings

Please don’t look at my microwave scars like that.

HAROLD

How did you manage to do that? I thought they wouldn’t start unle

MARION

Yes, yes– unless the door is closed. I have very thin arms, Harold. I don’t work out ten hours a month like you.

  

MARION‘s arms are literally paper-thin. Her face and hair and arms are all origami birds perched to a driftwood torso. Her rounded rubber bottom, an old half-inflated hippity hop, is covered with dozens of rollerskate wheels.

 

HAROLD

Please stop lording my exercise regimen over me, Marion. My doctor specifically said I would get thighabetes if I didn’t start moving my limbs at least once a week.

  

HAROLD is a head in a jar attached to ten random arms and legs by millions of carbon-nano-tubes.

 

MARION

Doctor Zhivago? I wouldn’t put too much stock in his opinion now that he’s DEAD.

 

A musical sting accompanies Marion’s reveal of THE DOCTOR‘s severed head.

 

HAROLD

Marion! You didn’t!

MARION

I most certainly did, Harold. Didn’t I, Doctor?

DOCTOR

 

HAROLD

Doctor! Are you fine?

 

No response.

 

HAROLD

Can you hear me, Doctor Zhivago?!

DOCTOR

 

 

The Doctor’s eyes roll slightly back in his head.

 

MARION

Now, where were we?

 

Marion places The Doctor’s head in a fluid-filled jar. His beard and nose smush slightly against the glass.

 

HAROLD

I believe we were talking about your microwave scars.

MARION

Oh right. Don’t look at them like that.

HAROLD

It’s fine. I still find you attractive.

MARION

If only I had left my arm in there a little longer…

HAROLD

Marion.

MARION [in thought]

I was only cooking one potato dumpling, though.

HAROLD

Marion!

MARION [in thought]

It was really good.

 

Harold grits his teeth (molars only) and impatiently looks away, waiting it out.

 

MARION [IN THOUGHT]

I’d really like another…

 

Marion walks away, muttering indiscernible the whole way.

 

HAROLD

Well it looks like it’s just me and you, Doctor Head.

DOCTOR

 

HAROLD

Yeah. I know.

 

Harold pulls a granola bar out of his pocket (his under-jar has a zip denim pocket) unwraps it, and starts to eat.

 

HAROLD [mouth full]

It’s just that she’s beautiful, Doc.

 

While talking, one of Harold’s arms pulls out another granola bar while a second unwraps it. It is dropped in The Doctor’s jar.

 

HAROLD [MOUTH FULL]

And I’m pretty sure one of her ears is a map of Atlantis.

 

Harold swallows, wistfully. The Doctor’s eyes fixate on the floating granola bar. They fixate harder and harder until the bar starts getting eaten.

 

HAROLD

Atta’boy, Doc.

DOCTOR

[GLORBLE]

 

The bar is gone; some bubbles stray from The Doctor’s ears, nose, and throat. Harold’s foot pats his head, lovingly.

 

DOCTOR

[GLORBLE]

 

AND THEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT.

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