Dr Jonathan Crane, MD - Entry 034 (Patreon)
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(CRANE walks down the hallway to his office; jingle of keys, unlocks the door)
CRANE: I told you you’re not supposed to be here anymore.
LUCENZO: …
CRANE: Lucenzo, you need to leave.
LUCENZO: I adore the smell of books, dottore. The old paper, the leather covers… it’s the smell of enlightenment. The smell of, how to say… conoscenza.
CRANE: I’ve heard enough. I’m calling security.
(CRANE picks up the receiver, but LUCENZO slams it back down)
CRANE: Let go of my hand, Lucenzo.
LUCENZO: I need to see.
CRANE: See what?
LUCENZO: You.
CRANE: You’re looking right at me.
LUCENZO: (laughs) No, dottore. I need to see who you really are.
CRANE: I don’t – Jesus! (is slammed against the wall; LUCENZO grabs his throat) Hnnngh…
(IKKY cawing)
LUCENZO: Fammi vedere, dottore. Fammi vedere che hai paura!
(CRANE starts to laugh)
CRANE: (SCARECROW) You just don’t get it, do ya, son? You think you can scare the scarecrow? I don’t bow to fear, fear bows to ME. Now put me down before I do something you’re gonna regret.
(CRANE is dropped and begins to wheeze; IKKY cawing)
LUCENZO: Allora è vero…
CRANE: You shouldn’t… do things like that… Lucenzo.
LUCENZO: I had to see, dottore. To make sure you were ready.
CRANE: Ready for what?
LUCENZO: To see what I have done, and to help me with my perfections.
CRANE: What makes you think I would help you?
LUCENZO: You are a man of medicine, dottore. Of science. At the very least, your curiousity will need to be sated.
CRANE: …
LUCENZO: I will leave my notes with you, dottore, and bid you a good ni-
(door opens)
BOLTON: What’s with all the fuckin’ noise in here? I thought nerds were supposed to be quiet.
CRANE: Get out of here, Lyle. This is a private session.
BOLTON: The hell it is – no one was signed in for today. And what’s with the fucking mess in here? And who the fuck are you?
LUCENZO: I am –
CRANE: Lucenzo, you don’t have to answer to him.
BOLTON: Lucenzo, huh? Yeah, you looked like a fuckin’ dago to me. So you two sharin’ some spaghetti in here or somethin’? Little fox and the hound goiin’ on?
CRANE: Bolton. Don’ push your luck.
BOLTON: Or what? You gonna sic the guinea on me? I ain’t scared of him.
CRANE: You oughtta be.
BOLTON: Oh yeah? What’s he gonna do, huh? Hey – I’m talkin’ to you, Guido. Whatchu gonna do?
LUCENZO: …
BOLTON: Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re in Luthor’s America now, and if you don’t play ball, he’ll send you right back to your mafiosos and olive trees.
CRANE: Leave, Bolton.
BOLTON: You keep the fuckin’ noise down. It’s a looney bin, not a goddamn hoedown. Later hayseed, later spaghetti.
LUCENZO: Very rude.
CRANE: Eh, it’s gonna bit him in the ass one day.
LUCENZO: Si, it will. I will take my leave, dottore.
CRANE: Lucenzo.
LUCENZO: Read the book. When you are ready, you come to the farm.
(door closes)
(CRANE exhales, opens a drawer and pulls out a pill bottle; he takes some pills)
CRANE: Fuck.