'Did anybody ever tell you that this phone box would make a perfect scientific laboratory,' said a nasal voice behind him. Peter-Bowman turned from the fading view of the real estate agent and confronted the owner of the voice. It was an exceedingly tall, thin man in a long white coat who looked remarkably like an outraged preying mantis. Peter-Bowman giggled to himself at this.

'I beg your pardon? I am an exceeding important scientist and am not to be laughed at.' The important scientist stood on his dignity, causing it to begin creaking alarmingly with the strain. He removed a pen from his top pocket and began to take notes on the clipboard he held tucked under his arm.

'I'm very sorry,' said Peter-Bowman. 'It's just that you look extraordinarily like an outraged preying mantis. I find this amusing, you see.' Peter-Bowman often found it necessary to explain things to people he was talking to. He felt it helped them get to know the real him.

The scientist stopped writing and displayed a series of complex equations to peter-Bowman. 'Hah! Think you could do that then? Of course you couldn't. Nobody but me could possibly prove that.'

'You're probably right,' admitted Peter-Bowman. 'I was never very good at school work.'

'School work! This is not school work. This,' continued the scientist in hushed tones, 'Is science.' The scientist began measuring Peter-Bowman's phone box. 'When can you let me install my equipment?'

'Well,' said Peter-Bowman. 'It's actually a bit crowded you see, what with the Garfields and all. And I'm expecting children later today, if I can ever get around to getting married that is.'

The scientist scratched his head. 'No problem then. Can't let children stand in the way of science. You can surely keep them in a cage of some sort. In fact, a stable of ready experimental subjects is sure to come in handy to me.' The scientist seemed pleased that everything was so tidily sorted out.

Peter-Bowman was unsure. 'Is that the usual place to keep children? I must have had a very neglected upbringing I'm afraid. Auntie Em never kept me in a cage at all.'

'Shocking I'm sure,' said the scientist who had been busy drawing a complicated diagram with arrows and circles and levers and squares.

'Yes, she usually kept me in a bedroom. Though I was always free to roam.'

'I see,' said the scientist as he examined the hinges of the door on the phone box. 'Have to take these off I'm afraid. Get in the way of the cages I shouldn't wonder.'

'It just that I'm not sure I can let you have the phone box for a laboratory.'

'Splendid then. I'll go and collect my equipment.' The scientist turned and made to leave.

'No, you don't understand.' Peter-Bowman realised that the scientist wasn't actually listening to a word he said. The scientist heard the last one though.

'Don't understand!? Dear sir, I am a scientist.' The scientist nodded impressively.

'Yes...' Peter-Bowman wasn't sure where this was going, or if he really wanted to go there today. He began to hum a little.

'I understand everything. I am a scientist. It's a simple fact of life.'

Peter-Bowman had a thought. If the scientist understood everything, surely he could help Peter-Bowman construct a work of life. Out of cages, possibly, or a diagram. He explained the situation to the scientist.

'Work of life? Certainly. That's an easy one.' The scientist began to draw a number of diagrams, linking them together with a series of complicated equations. It became quite alarming as his eyebrows seemed to be intimately involved with the procedure and as the diagram grew larger Peter-Bowman became concerned that he might start to fly. He wasn't sure that this would help matters greatly. In the end, the scientist presented the completed diagram to Peter-Bowman, who stared at it thoughtfully for a long time. Then he turned it around the other way and stared at it some more. In the end Peter-Bowman turned the clip board over and stared at the back of it for about ten minutes before admitting defeat.

'I'm afraid that I just can't understand it at all.' Recently, Peter-Bowman had become rather worried that he would never be able to complete his work of life. 'I wonder if you could make it any simpler for me?'

'Of course I can. I can do anything.' The scientist snatched the clip board from Peter-Bowman and began tearing his diagram into long strips. These he folded cunningly in on each other until the began to form a very sturdy structure. Peter-Bowman watched carefully as the structure took place, and blinked when it was finished.

'In you get then,' said the scientist. 'You'll understand it all much more easily from the inside of this nice cage I've made for you. Hurry up.'

Peter-Bowman looked at the cage. It certainly did look very safe and cosy. He poked at it with his index finger and it rattled. He put his head in the entrance, and considered things. 'No,' he said slowly. 'I think I prefer my phone box really. It has Garfields you see. Your cage doesn't have any Garfields at all, and so I'm not sure that I would be comfortable living in it.'

All at once the scientist began to bubble. Froth poured out of his nose and trickled down to his fingernails. His clip board caught fire, but he didn't let go of it. 'Very well then. If you can't even show a bit of gratitude towards me for building you this lovely cage, I don't want to talk to you anymore. There are staving children in Africa who would love a nice little cage like this. In fact, it's so nice, that I think I'll live in it myself.'

The scientist crawled into his cage and closed the door. The whole contraption promptly vanished in a puff of green smoke. A single leaf of paper with a diagram on it floated into the open door of Peter-Bowman's phone box and nestled with the phone, but he didn't notice at the time being so engrossed in the spectacle of the disappearing scientist. 'Well, that was odd,' Peter-Bowman said to himself.