& VJ in Adventuritis
stage is set as DICK & VJ’s HQ in the dirigible AIRSHIP
THE DOCTOR and VJ are on stage. THE DOCTOR’s back is toward
us and he is blocking our view of VJ, who sits in front of
him on an examining table.
DOCTOR: Oh, my, my. Oh, deary, dear. All right, deep breath.
Hold. OK. Good.
Over his shoulders we see VJ’s arms being raised and held
aloft—one then the other—as THE DOCTOR, presumably, examines
DOCTOR (CONT’D): Yes, yes. Mmm-hmm. Here. Like this. Yes.
In a smooth transition, we see VJ’s legs—one then the other—swing
up over THE DOCTOR’s shoulder.
DOCTOR (CONT’D): Oh, goodness. Well, VJ, there’s no mistake
He steps aside and we see VJ. She is swollen, her one-piece
suit stuffed so she looks like a pink version of the Michelin
Man, Her face is made-up to match the vivid pink of her suit,
and she is alternately wiping a copiously runny nose and scratching
DOCTOR (CONT’D): You’ve got Adventuritis.
VJ: I’ve got what?!
DOCTOR: It’s just one of the many dangers of adventuring,
VJ—and not the worst! You’re lucky you didn’t get the Ovation!
Or the Mollusc! Or the the Big Casino! Or the Blue Canoe,
or . . .
VJ: Doc, what am I going to do?!
DOCTOR: You’ll be fine. You came to me early with the symptoms
so we can treat you. And we’ll have a long talk about how
you can avoid this in the future. But, first we’ve got to
find Dick and examine him, too.
VJ: Why? I saw him this morning. He’s healthy like a horse,
DOCTOR: Just because he feels all right doesn’t mean he is
all right. The risks of adventuring aren’t always obvious
and the consequences aren’t always apparent, right away.
DICK enters in his typical hyperactive, distracted manner.
DICK: Whoa! What happened to you?
DOCTOR: Dick, VJ will be fine. She’s got a case of Adventuritus.
Now, hop on the table and let’s get a look at you, too.
DICK: Ah, I’m fine, Doc, nothing wrong with me.
VJ: Dick, Doc says you wouldn’t know if there was something
wrong. Let him check.
DICK: C’mon I feel great.
As he walks past them, he begins to sneeze.
DICK (CONT’D): Ah . . . Ah . . .
He continues past them, walking off stage.
DICK (CONT’D): . . . CHOOO! OWWWWWWWwww!!! Holy mother of
BLEEP! God BLEEPIN BLEEP! BLEEP, that BLEEPIN hurts!
DICK comes back onstage. He is flushed and a small flame blazes
atop his crash helmet. He walks quickly over to the examination
table and hops up, looking at THE DOCTOR pleadingly. The DOCTOR
reaches over and snuffs the flame on his helmet.