"Two Men and a Woman In a Boat..."

 I've been nursing a sore arm for over a week,--strained a muscle while 
moving boxes of books around.

cuzzie Carol replied:
surrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeee you got it moving books!! yeah,that's right...
could it be from all your escapades with Rowan and Tim?? hmm???????


Oh, well, I guess I can't fool *you,* cuz...;-) Here's how it REALLY
happened: (In a fictional sort of way [G])

Two weeks ago, Tim, Rowan and I were in need of a little vacation.  The Timbo
Convention in "The Road to Culver City" had frayed our nerves a bit,--all
those salivating Timbos in one place, those shrieks, those clutching, sweaty
hands...well, you get the picture.

We decided to take a leisurely boat trip down the Thames in a recreation of
"Three Men In a Boat (to say nothing of the dog)," and brought Tim's dog
Frank along to fill in for Montmorency...

Our trio are casually dressed for the outing in matching white sailor pants
and striped French T-shirts. Tim wears a captain's yachting cap; Rowan, a
straw boater, Dix, a first mate's cap.

Tim [trailing his hand in the water as the boat moves downstream:] Ahhh, this
is the life.

Rowan [rowing:] Glad you're enjoying it. [He rests the oars and wipes his
face with a handkerchief.]

Dix: Why don't we tie up in that clump of willows, boys, and break out the
picnic basket?

She reaches under the seat,--and feels something warm and furry.  It is
Frank, who scrambles out, wearing a guilty expression.

Dix pulls out the basket and looks inside.

Tim [patting Frank:] Is that Grey Poupon on his mouth?

Dix: Afraid so.  He gobbled up everything,--the pheasant, the caviar
sandwiches, the Fortnum & Mason pate'...there's some ginger beer, though.

Rowan: Probably couldn't find the opener.

Frank burps and wags his tail.

Tim: Well, we aren't too far from Maidenhead.  We can get a decent meal at
the Smuggler's Armpit and stock up on provisions there...

Dix: And a picnic basket with a padlock.

Frank pretends not to hear this. He turns away and gazes toward the
riverbank. Suddenly he barks, then jumps overboard.

Tim: Frank!! Get back here!

(To Be Continued, if my arm holds out...;-))

Y(battle-injured)FT,
Dix

                    *                   *                    *


To resume our narrative,

Tim, Dix and Rowan, while boating down the Thames, watch anxiously as Tim's
dog Frank leaps from the boat and starts swimming for shore. Rowan rows after
the dog while Tim whistles to call him back.

Dix: He's reached the bank. Wonder what attracted him?

Tim: He's a border collie,--I hope he didn't scent a flock of sheep. He might
feel it his duty to go and round them up...

Rowan backs water with the oars and the boat comes to rest under a
low-hanging willow.

Rowan [tossing Tim the painter:] Tie us up to that tree, will you?

Tim does so, and our friends go ashore.  There is an overgrown path leading
into a heavily wooded area. As they walk along it, they hear Frank's muffled
yelps ahead of them.  After struggling through the thicket, our intrepid trio
find themselves outside a large weather-beaten iron gate set in a stone wall.
 At the gate, walking up and down with a leafy branch over his shoulder, is
an unkempt ratty little creature.

Tim: Looks like sort sort of evil malevolent unwashed gnome.

Rowan [sighing:] Worse. It's Baldrick.

He walks forward and raps the creature on the head.

Rowan: Baldrick. What are you doing here?

Baldrick: Well, my lord, you remember after I accidentally clumsily poisoned
all the other members of your family, you told me to go and drown myself.

Rowan: And?

Baldrick: I was going to get a great huge boulder and tie it to myself so I'd
sink, but I couldn't find one.  So I found these six logs fastened
together,--

Rowan: A raft.  Right.

Baldrick: --and tied myself to them. But they didn't sink.  And a nice lady
asked me if I wanted a job, so now I'm the watchman and caretaker of  Morbid
Manor.  And I get to feed the bats.

Rowan [taking away his branch and throwing it to the ground:] Baldrick, you
ARE bats.

Dix: You seem to speak his language, Rowan,--ask him if he's seen a dog
around here.

Tim: And perhaps we might meet his employer.  It's nearly tea time and we
haven't eaten since morning...River folk are noted for their hospitality.

The gate behind Baldrick slowly opens and a strange giggle is heard.  Then
the sounds of a cat snarling in fury and a dog barking...


             *                  *                       *



Tim, Dix and Rowan have just encountered Baldrick, Rowan's not-mentally-swift
dogsbody, at the gate of sinister Morbid Manor.  The gate opens and a
sweet-faced gray-haired lady wearing silver-rimmed spectacles invites them
in...

Old Lady: Company!! Oh, do come in and try my Banbury buns. I baked them
myself. And I have some perfectly lovely rhubarb wine.

Dix [sotto voce to Tim and Rowan:] '...and Hansel and Gretel followed the
nice old woman into the gingerbread house...'  Stay alert, fellows. 'By the
pricking of my thumbs...'

Tim: Look! There's Frank.

He walks through the gate and the others follow.  Frank is sitting under a
tree, gazing upward where a large black cat is sitting on a branch and
looking annoyed.

Old Lady [following them, after locking the gate:] I'm...Mrs. Goodbody and
it's so marvelous to have visitors.  This is rather a lonely spot.

She leads them up the stone steps of the mansion, a great, gray stone
structure with carved bats brooding over the arched door...

Our friends are seated in the library a few moments later, nibbling at their
hostess's homemade Banbury buns and sipping the rhubarb wine.

Tim: This is a fascinating home you have here, Mrs. Goodbody.  Those
tapestries look like Gobelins.

Dix: Look closely and you'll see the *real* goblins...those two in the
middle, torturing the peasants with pitchforks...

Rowan: That reminds me, where did Baldrick disappear to?

Mrs. Goodbody: I sent him to the east wing to feed the bats. We have quite a
collection, here, all thoroughbreds and excellent breeding stock.

Dix: 'We?'  You're not alone here, then?

Mrs. Goodbody [picking up the bottle of wine hurriedly:] Do have a tiny bit
more; I have a whole cellar full. Perhaps you all would like to take a little
tour of the house?  There are some truly historic rooms...I believe that Lord
Edmund Blackadder himself designed the dungeons.

Tim: They should be well worth seeing, in that case.

Rowan [blushing slightly:] Well, if I DO say so myself...

Tim and the others follow Mrs. G. as she escorts them down several long, damp
flights of stone steps and throws open the dungeon door.

Rowan: Looks familiar.

He walks over to a stone interior wall and flips down a section of hinged
stone. The surface is covered with...snails.

Rowan: Too damned familiar.

Dix has been lagging behind. She sways slightly and Tim and Rowan both go to
her side.

Tim: Are you all right? Do snails bother you?

Dix [faintly:] No...not...really.

Mrs. Goodbody: Ah, well, there are some that can't abide the sight of snakes
and such [she looks searchingly at Dix]...

Dix: Umm, I...don't mind snakes..it's, umm, *frogs*...

Her voice fades and she goes limp. Tim and Rowan hold her up.

Tim: Dix!! She's fainted.

Rowan: She needs fresh air!

Mrs. Goodbody [hurrying forward:] Now, now, just lay her down on this cot
near the rack.  She can rest there for a bit...shouldn't really move her
about. I have some sal volatile in my reticule,--could you gentlemen help me
up the stairs? I fear that I turned my ankle on the step just now...

                   *                  *                    *



When last seen, our trio had been split up: Dix, in a mysterious swoon, was
resting on a cot in the dungeon and Tim and Rowan had helped their hostess,
Mrs. Goodbody, upstairs in search of a restorative...

As they enter the library, Rowan suddenly staggers and drops into an
armchair.  His head falls back and his eyes close abruptly.

Tim: Rowan!! (He puts a hand to Rowan's forehead, then lifts one of his
closed eyelids.)  He's been drugged!!

Mrs. Goodbody [nervously:] Nonsense! It's probably the after-effects of my
rhubarb wine. It has quite a kick to it, I'm told.

Tim: What is this all about? Dix was right;--there's something weird going on
here. And what have you done with her?

Mrs. Goodbody: Why,- nothing,--except to have had her taken to the FROG
ROOM!!

She begins to laugh in a sinister way, then reaches up and pulls off the gray
wig and glasses to reveal --

Tim: Betty Thomas!!!

Betty: I'm afraid so, but ISN'T IT NICE??!!!

Betty is standing near the large tapestry; now she reaches up and pulls a
bell cord.

SFX: From above, the sounds of shrieks and giggles.

Tim looks up and sees a ring of familiar faces,--dozens of them,--looking
down from the landing that extends the length of one wall of the room: a
horde of smiling, eager Timbos...

Carol: Timmy!! It's me, Carol!!

Christine Z [to Carol:] But look, Rowan is here too. And *helpless*...

Carol: How right you are [giggle]...

Linda E [waving her hand:] Do King Chicken for us!! My plump poultry passion
pal!!

Tim smiles broadly around the room, with a hunted expression in his eyes.

An RHPS button suddenly drops at his feet and he looks up at the chandelier.
Linda F is clinging to it, her camera in her hands and an autograph book
clenched in her teeth. She is smiling as seductively as possible, under the
circumstances. Tim bows and retrieves the button, tossing it up to her.

One section of the bookcase facing Tim swings outward at this moment to
reveal Martha M seated at a desk, a gavel in her hand.

Martha [tapping the gavel for silence:] To resume our last meeting which was
unfortunately interrupted...

(To Be Continued...)

While Tim is in the library, surrounded by panting Timbos and Rowan in an
unconscious state, let us peek into the Frog Room. Dix is beginning to stir.
 She has been stretched out on a rug before the fireplace.

She opens her eyes groggily and sees: Forty-seven (or more) frogs of varying
sizes, sitting around the room looking at her.  One, the size of a dinner
plate, croaks resoundingly and the others join in the chorus.

Dix: Well, hello, you sweet little batrachians. (She smiles as one of the
tiniest frogs, an inch long, hops near her.  She picks it up and scratches
its little back.)

Dix: You're a cutie.

There is a large, ornamental wood basket beside the fireplace. Dix empties
out the firewood and begins singing under her breath, "Blackadder,
Blackadder, with many a cunning plan..."

[Dissolve.]

In the library, the Timbos are patiently taking turns (thanks to Martha's
warning gavel) in pressing their career suggestions on Tim.  In one corner of
the room, Claire, Patty, Bryan and Michelle have joined hands and are doing
their rendition of the Zucchini Song: "...My, what a big one!--I never saw
one as big as that before!.."

Cindra: Tim, please do Dr. Frankenstein for us.  I brought a whip you can
use...

Betiann: I'll let you chain me to the wall.

Dina: No fair,--I asked first!!

Linda F [she has jumped from the chandelier to land on the sofa beside Tim
and is running her fingers through his hair:] I'd [sigh] give *anything* --
ANYTHING, do you hear??--for just one tiny lock of your hair...

A fanatic gleam lights the eyes of all the Timbos present, and Cap'n Martha
bangs her gavel in vain.  The Timbos begin to draw closer to their idol.
Shonie takes a pair of nail scissors out of her purse.

Tim shivers and tries to speak.

Betty: Tim's cold!! (She picks up the speaking tube on Martha's desk:)
BALDRICK!! Bring some firewood up to the library!!

Rowan, unnoticed, has opened his eyes.  Taking in the scene at a glance, he
gets out of his chair and moves unobtrusively toward the door.

A panting Baldrick, hair falling over his eyes as usual, carries in a
woodbasket.  He sets it on the hearth and throws open the cover. Immediately
a horde of frogs hops out and the Timbos begin to scream.

SFX: "Get it off me!!!  Yuucch!!! It's slimyyyyy...!!!!"

Dix, having borrowed Baldrick's unnameable garments, flips her hair out of
her eyes and calls to Baldrick himself, on the balcony:  BATS!! Front and
center!!

Baldrick opens the large bag he is carrying and a flock of very irritated
bats begins to zigzag around the room.

Chaos reigns and Dix, Tim and Rowan exit quietly and run for their boat,
still tied among the willows.

Tim [seated in the bow and getting his breath back:] Well! That was, umm,
invigorating.  Nice work, Dix. I thought you were *afraid* of frogs?

Dix: As I was passing out, I recognized Betty Thomas' patrician profile under
that "Goodbody" disguise, so I used the old Bre'er Rabbit ploy,--'Oh, please,
don' throw me in that briar patch!'  Baldrick heard me singing the Blackadder
theme and let me out.

Dix pulls Baldrick's tunic-like rags off and heaves a sigh of relief.

Rowan: Baldrick did something right? The millenium must be at hand. I'll have
to increase his turnip allowance...

Dix: I didn't tell him to release ALL the bats, though.  That was a bit much.

Rowan: Well, if you want something done very badly indeed, Baldrick's your
man.  And I use the term very loosely.

Tim: Oh-oh...

Racing toward the boat are all the Timbos in hot pursuit, followed by several
low-flying bats and one or two of the speedier frogs.

Tim: Never mind the oars, Rowan!! Move over, Frank!!

He hastily starts the outboard motor attached to the stern and the boat picks
up momentum and hurtles downstream.  Frank, ears flapping in the wind, barks
happily.  In the wake of the boat, a pathetic excuse for a raft begins to
drift from shore, Baldrick lying on it and paddling with his hands...

Baldrick: Wait for me, my lord!!  Them Timbos will kill me...

Rowan [leaning back on a cushion and folding his arms:] Thereby saving me the
trouble.

The End

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