Fletcherstein, Couch Potatoes, and ...

Fletcherstein, Couch Potatoes, and Other Strange Phenomena
by Laura, Laura
(dedicated to Marty)

The mist clears and an ancient castle can be seen in the distance. Clouds hover in and around its steeples. Trees, twisted and leafless, make the approach to the castle uninviting. A single candle lights a tiny window in one of the many turrets.

In the room exposed by that tiny flicker, a man paces frantically back and forth mumbling to himself. It is the infamous Dr. Roger Fletcherstein. "Where is he? I should just call the Orkin man and be done with the slimy little cockroach. When will I learn."

Just then, a furtive knock sounds at the heavy oak door. "Hark, who goes there?"

A gnarled, bent little man scuttles in. It is Igor (aka Leo). Dr. Fletcherstein asks impatiently, "Did you get it?"

"Yes, master. There was a bit of a mix-up but I got one for you."

"What do you mean, mix-up?" Dr. Fletcherstein asks with menacing calm.

Igor cowers under his master's impending wrath. "I dropped the ball...I mean the brain...I mean Einstein's brain. But I got you another one. If you've seen one brain, you've seen them all."

Dr. Fletcherstein looks to heaven in frustration at his assistant's incompetence. "There is no darkness like ignorance."

He pauses and eyes his simple simpering servant. "Well, a mind is a terrible thing to waste. Show me what you've got. After all, when all else fails, immortality can always be achieved through spectacular error."

The two work feverishly on a sheeted figure lying on a nearby table. Electronic wires and circuitry emanate from the mysterious table top patient . Dr. Fletcherstein finally sags in exhaustion. "Well that's it Igor. Let's get this show on the road."

They both walk over to a bank of electronic switches. Placing protective glasses over their eyes, Dr. Fletcherstein gives the word, "Turn on the light!" Igor flips a switch and hot current rushes to the prostrate form. The body twitches spasmodically as the electric fire flows through his body. Dr. Fletcherstein continues the treatment for several seconds. Finally, he turns the power off.

Walking over to the body, he places his stethoscope on the inert figure. A maniacal grin spreads over his face. "It's alive! It's alive!" he turns expectantly to his servant.

"No it isn't." Igor responds.

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is." Dr. Fletcherstein demands.

"No it isn't." Igor insists, then adds, "It is not necessary to understand things in order to argue about them."

Just then, they hear the castle door open. "Honey, I'm hooommmmeee! Where's the beef???"

Nervously, Dr. Fletcherstein grabs Igor. "Hide the body. I'll be back in a few hours." He quickly exits the laboratory.

Upon entering the castle hall , he sees his beautiful wife, Dr. Holly Fletcherstein, arms crossed, long red nails digging angrily into her forearms. He rushes over to her and plants a warm, tender kiss on her cheek.

"Where's the beef???" She refuses to be side-tracked.

"Well, the electricity went on the fritz, and I shrunk the kids...."

"Do I have to do everything myself? I bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never, never let you forget you're a man." She points a threatening finger at him. "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take it any more."
She retreats to the kitchen in a fury.

"How do you handle a hungry woman?" Roger wonders to himself. An idea bursts forth from his genius.

"Honey...."

Holly and Roger snuggle romantically in front of two gargoyles guarding the huge fireplace. A half eaten "Meat Lover's pizza" lies in a nearby box. "Feel better dear?" Roger asks contentedly.

"Mmmm yes. The growl in my stomach has been sated. But, now I have a tiger in my tank. Can you fill it up please?"

"Your wish is my command." They wander off to their master suite.

Later that night, Roger tiptoes quietly into his laboratory. Dr. Fletcherstein's creation moves restlessly on the table, groaning noisily. Ignoring the monster, he goes immediately for his medicine chest and rummages irritably through it. "What are you looking for master?"

"Igor, I had pizza tonight. You know it doesn't agree with me. How do you spell relief?" Helpfully, Igor hands Roger his Mylanta.

The monster growls angrily at them. "Give me liberty or give me death!"

"What are we going to do, master? Dr. Mrs. Fletcherstein is bound to discover our secret."

"Oh what a tangled web I have woven." Dr. Fletcherstein bemoans. "But, I will find a way. After all, tomorrow is another day."

"Yes master. The sun'll come up tomorrow."

His heartburn gone, Roger wanders back to his loving, unsuspecting wife. He wakes up just before dawn to frantic screams somewhere in the distance. Hurriedly, he grabs his robe and anxiously follows the wails of agony. It leads him to the castle rooftop. There, Holly and Fletcherstein's monster are locked in a battle of wills. She dangles the monster's hat just over the ledge out of reach. "Go ahead," she taunts, "Make my day." The monster screams once again in frustration.

"Is this the result of your latest trip to the hardware store, dear?"

"Holly, I swear there's an explanation."

"I'm sure it's very, very interesting, but stupid."

"Holly please. This took me months to achieve."

"Frankly, my dear. I don't give a damn. He insulted my hair color."

With that, she tosses hapless hat onto the blanket of snow below. The monster leaps to save it and falls several stories to his death.

They both look down at the broken body.

Holly turns to Roger, "Life is messy. Clean it up."

The TV blares the Bissell commercial into Roger's subconscious. He slowly opens his eyes to the closing credits of As The World Turns. Eyeing the bottle of whiskey he purchased from a nearby neighbor, he wonders what the secret recipe is.

Realizing the extent of his addiction, he hurriedly grabs the remote and shuts off his connection to soap operas, commercials, reruns, and old movies. Rubbing his brow he mumbles, "I have got to get a life."