Is There A Doctor In the House? 1.1 2/22/05

The guitar stack is covered by a cloth before the show starts

Narrator: Since 1996, the Consortium of Genius has been the home of the greatest minds in the history of rock. Dr. Wissenschaft, Dr. A Pentatonic, and Dr. A Pentatonic have wielded the six stringed instrument of destruction in the service of science. But now, thanks to a bizarre series of events, the C.O.G. is left without a guitarist! Here are some scenes from the previous adventure of the Consortium of Genius

a quick montage follows showing the events of the previous show.

Narrator: We now rejoin the Consortium of Genius, already in progress...

Dr. Z and Pinkerton ascend the stage.

Pinkerton: Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready to rock?!??

Dr. Z: Dr. Pinkerton, WE'RE not ready to rock! We have no guitarist!

Pinkerton: WHAT? Why wasn't this previously brought to my attention?

<Pinkerton yanks the cloth off the guitar and stack>

Pinkerton: Well, how difficult could it be?

Dr. Z: Well why don't you try it mister smarty pants?

Pinkerton: <examining guitar> Which end does one blow into? <snaps fingers> Wait, I suddenly have a better idea. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE?

Dr. Crowley: I'm a doctor!

Pinkerton: Oh really? You're dressed in a lab coat, but WHO ISN'T THESE DAYS? Prove you're a doctor!

Dr. Crowley: Ever heard of a Placebo?

Pinkerton: Hmmm. Play a few bars, maybe I'll remember it...


Pinkerton: Well, that verifies your musical medical credentials alright. But you know, this is no ordinary band of sonic scientists! In our adventures, we have occasionally stared into the face of Death himself!

Dr. Crowley: Well I say, Death to the Angel of Death!!!


<During the song, Dr. Munchausen bumps off Dr. Crowley and plays the last chorus>

Pinkerton: Well Dr. Crowley, your qualifications seem to be in order. You're hir... wait a moment, who are you?

<Dr. Munchausen shakes Dr. Pinkerton's hand>

Dr. Munchausen: Dr. D. Mangle Reindhart Munchausen, at your disposal!

Pinkerton: Disposal is apt, I mean look at you! You're a wreck! The decorum of a scientist is one of dignity and respect. Now button that lab coat! Suck in your gut! Brush your hair. Comb your teeth! Geez, when was the last time you drank your MILK?

Dr. Z: MILK?


Pinkerton: Dr. Munchausen, perhaps I was wrong about you. You seem to know a great deal about MILK! But what other areas of science have you specialized in? Are you up on your cybernetics?

Dr. Munchausen: Not only did I major in robotics, but I also know a major amount about androids! In A Major! In fact, listen to this!


<At the end of this, Dr. Rachnid comes right up to Dr. Munchausen and stares him off the stage, then takes his place.>

Pinkerton: Excellent! You're perfect. I need you to sign... hey, wait a minute, what happened to that fellow who was standing here just 3.14159876 seconds ago?

Dr. Rachnid: <eerily> Oh, he said he wasn't feeling well... so I gave him some Vioxin to... help him on his way.

Pinkerton: Well, then I suppose we'd better see what your qualifications are. Lab coat... check. Guitar... check. Now then, what fields of science do you specialize in, then?

Dr. Rachnid: the ones that are quite... EVIL!


Pinkerton: Wow, that was really evil. In a bouncy fun dancehall kind of way.

Dr. Z: Not only that, it was also quite morally wrong!


Pinkerton: Well now, evil is all well and good, but what are you SURGICAL qualifications?

Dr. Rachnid: You mean like Brain surgery?

Pinkerton: Sure, we could start with that. Dr. Z, have you seen the brain?

Dr. Z: I ain't seen the brain.

All: Where's that confounded brain?

Pinkerton: Well then we'd best procure one, stat! Dr. Z, fetch me an erstwhile lab rat - preferrably somebody who isn't currently using their BRAIN! Now then, Dr.... what did you say your name was?

Dr. Rachnid: Dr. Harry A Rachnid.

Pinkerton: WHERE?!??


Pinkerton: Excellent, now that we've got the Brain, we can proceed with the examination. What is this area here?

Dr. Rachnid: Ahhh yes. That is the center... of FEAR!

Pinkerton: And this here?

Dr. Rachnid: That part is the locus... OF TERROR!

Pinkerton: Errr, what about this part?

Dr. Rachnid: I was thinking about saving that part for lunch.

Pinkerton: Wait a minute, do you know anything about the Brain at all!? Dr. Z, kindly explain this simple subject to our intrepid candidate here.


Pinkerton: Now that THAT's fully explained, it's time to ask this question: WHY did you volunteer to join the C.O.G.? Here's a hint - there's only one correct answer!

Dr. Z: Yes, I've been meaning to ask, why do we do it?

Dr. Rachnid: Because we're greedy?

Pinkerton: No!

Dr. Rachnid: Because we're evil?

Pinkerton: No!

Dr. Z: Because of the lab groupies?

Pinkerton: No, idiot! It's because we're scientists!


Pinkerton: So. Let us review... you have no real credentials, your grasp of basic anatomy is completely absent, and before I explained it, you didn't even know WHY we do it! Kindly explain to me again the reason I should admit you to the hallowed halls of the C.O.G.?

Dr. Rachnid: Because, Dr. Pinkerton, I can see into the future.

Pinkerton: I'LL tell you about the future!


Dr. Rachnid: My vision of the future differs from your prediction. Behold.

<Dr. Rachnid produces a crystal ball. Or maybe a magic 8 ball.>

Pinkerton: Bah! Superstitious claptrap. I don't believe in such things.

Dr. Z: I do! What do you see, Dr. Rachnid?

Dr. Rachnid: I see many things swirling through the mists of time... a great assembly. Many learned scientists are gathered together, celebrating. They are eating Ice Cream.

Pinkerton: German ice cream?


Pinkerton: So, these scientists you see... why are they celebrating?

Dr. Rachnid: They are celebrating the death of Dr. Pinkerton...

Pinkerton: WHAT? Preposterous! I demand my money back!

Dr. Rachnid: Once these events are set in motion, the fate of your future is already sealed.

Dr. Z: Oh good, that makes me leader of the C.O.G. when you die.

Pinkerton: And what precisely qualifies you?

Dr. Z: My good looks, healthy lifestyle, and funky freshness.


Pinkerton: OK fine, I'm going to die. But WHEN am I going to die?

Dr. Rachnid: In the year 2112.


Dr. Z: 2112? I have to wait 107 years to take over the C.O.G.?

Dr. Rachnid: Errr, not exactly...

Pinkerton: Ha! I'll live to be 142! Excellent. That means plenty of years to enjoy my world conquest. Gentlemen, let's party!


Pinkerton: Gentlemen, back to the lab!

Dr. Rachnid: But wait, Dr. Pinkerton, I think you'd better have a look for yourself...

Narrator: WHAT did Dr. Harry A Rachnid mean by that last comment? WHO is Dr. Rachnid anyway? WHEN will Dr. Pinkerton meet the icy touch of death? And WHERE does drumbot fit into any of this anyway? For the answers to those and many even less interesting questions, be sure to catch the next enthralling instillment of the Consortium of Genius!!!

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