INT – OPERATING THEATRE
A SURGEON (DR. HOBBS), AND MEDICAL TEAM (ANOTHER DOCTOR AND AN ANAESTHETIST) ARE HUNCHED OVER THE BED.
THE SURGEON EMERGES AND STRAIGHTENS UP, REPLACING HIS TOOLS AND PULLING DOWN HIS MASK.
SURGEON:
That's it, chaps. Another unqualified success.
(THERE IS A COLLECTIVE SIGH OF RELIEF AND GRUNTS OF SATISFACTION. HE LOOKS AT HIS WATCH).
Finished early again. Next isn't due for another hour.
IT GOES QUIET EXCEPT FOR THE NOISE Of MONITORING EQUIPMENT.
ANAESTHETIST:
Running early. He'll wake up in a bit.
MURMURS OF ACKNOWLEDGEMENT FROM THE OTHERS.
SURGEON:
I'll just nip off to get some coffee.
HE EXITS.
FADE TO:
MORE SILENCE, PUNCTUATED BY HUMMING AND DRUMMING OF FINGERS.
DOCTOR (NUDGES ANAESTHETIST)
Do you think he's ticklish?
ANAESTHETIST:
Hmm?
DOCTOR:
Do you think he's ticklish? (REACHES OVER AND TICKLES THE PATIENT'S STOMACH). Coooeee! Coochie cooo!? Are you ticklish?! No? What about your feet?
FADE TO:
CLOSE UP OF PATIENT'S FACE. A FEATHER ENTERS THE SHOT AND GENTLY WIBBLES OVER HIS NOSE.
DOCTOR:
Boo!
FADE TO:
THE PATIENT'S FACE. Dr HOBBS' MASK COVERS IT SO ONLY HIS EYES ARE VISIBLE. A THICK MONOBROW HAS BEEN INKED ON, SIMILAR TO DR HOBBS'.
CAMERA PANS OUT.
DOCTOR IS NOW SITTING ASTRIDE THE PATIENT.
DOCTOR:
(IN A MOCKING SELF-ASSURED VOICE) I'm Doctor Hobbs. And today will be… an unqualified success.
THEY LAUGH, THEN STOP ABRUBTLY, LOOKING SHEEPISH.
DR HOBBS IS STANDING STERN-FACED IN THE DOORWAY, COFFEE IN HAND.
DR HOBBS:
I don't believe you guys.
DOCTOR:
I can explain…
DR. HOBBS:
Tickling him without me.
CUT TO:
DR HOBBS:
One…Two…Go
THEY SURGE FORWARD.
END