Good evening. I'm Dr Terrible. Welcome to my House of Horrible.
When I was a young boy, my father gave me a kitten.
He was bright-eyed, playful and loyal.
But within the year, he fell ill and I had to put him down.
The kitten, however, lives on.
Sadly, not all murders can be so easily condoned.
Meet Dr Donald Baxter, burns specialist.
Nurse MacReedy, a hypodermic, please.
...perineum... sodium glutamate... maximum spurium and, of course, serum number 11.
Aghhhh!
Scalpel.
Nurse MacReedy, loosen the strappings.
Congratulations. You're cured. Let me shake you by the...
My God...
...not again!
It's a minor side effect.
Will you please come down?
Aghhh!
Dr Baxter, you are a gamble, sir, an outside chance.
I knew that when I agreed your research funds.
But perhaps the time has come to cut my losses.
But my new serum is nearly perfected, I ken it! When it is, the world will feel the benefit.
A cure for the common burn!
Ever since Man stepped out of the primeval broth,
he's had one great weakness -
his flammability.
But now, over 20 million years later,
I have finally got a solution within my grasp.
Baxter, these fatalisations
reflect badly on the hospital.
You've caused more pain than thistles in porridge!
- You get deaths in doctoring. - But nae suicides!
11 suicides, Baxter.
The Proctol Fistulator himself has called for your resignation.
Katherine!
The March ledger, Professor. You're all to one side again. Let me sort you out...
There. Fine.
Thank you, Katherine.
You are due to give a presentation on the 31st?
That's right. I think my findings will find favour...
Let me make myself as plain as an Aberdeen oatcake.
If you do not produce this cure for the common burn on the 31st,
ar glan pligder tayle!
Do I make myself clear?
- You'll accept my resignation? - Aye.
I dedicate 25 years of my life to this work and you give me ten days?
Including weekends?
Now, meet your new assistant, Dr Rowan Latimer.
An honour to work with you, Dr Baxter.
Damn it all, I don't want some bedpan-wielding wet nurse! I need a burns expert.
- I'm a graduate of the Academy of Scalding. - Och!
Ten days, or you sign this.
Your choice, Dr Baxter...
...results or resignation.
Good morning, Dr Baxter. Can I say...
- Have you prepared the plasma slides? - Yes, Doctor.
Whilst working in my laboratory, you're expected to keep your own notes, d'ye ken?
- Yes, Doctor. - Some years ago,
I made the mistake of falling in love with a girl doctor.
We experimented together, made great strides at first.
We were so happy!
Then when I was about to inject her with a small amount of gecko rectal fluid,
she upped and disappeared. No explanation, nothing.
She took my notebook and my William Wallace toby jug. I was devastated.
If a dog bit you, would you be wary of all dogs?
A dog did bite me, and it was a bitch
so I am wary of all dogs and all bitches.
And all women.
Ken this, and ken this well, Doctor.
I dinnae intend to let history repeat on me.
Ten days of hard work lie ahead.
Hard work and drastic measures.
My God!
It's the lowest impurity rate ever!
I want you to sterilise these implements.
Yes, Dr Baxter.
The serum.
Result or resignation. Result or resignation.
Result or resignation...
Result...
- Good night, Dr Latimer. - Good night, porter.
I thought I'd say goodnight.
- You studied lizardology. - A double first in reptilian psychology
with a distinction in dermatological trauma.
- Your thesis? - Regeneration of molecular structure,
particularly exfoliation of dead cells, big scabs and itchiness.
Have you ever had the opportunity of working with those unfortunate flame-haired Celts
with low skin pigmentation?
Let me be frank, Miss Latimer.
I'm talking about gingers, ginger nuts, carrot tops, d'ye ken?
I'm presenting this to the board. The ultimate challenge.
If I can restore the scorched skin of a ginger to its pre-singed freckled majesty,
then Man will be able to say, "I am non-flammable."
- Angus, you're scabbing well. - I'm still a wee bit sore, Doc.
Still, it could be worse - I could be English!
Ahh...
- Try not to laugh or smile. - Putting a brave face on, Doc.
I can see that.
- Angus is taking my serum. - He still looks chronically scorched.
Mind, this was Angus afore my treatment started.
Please, forgive me.
It's just so hot in here.
I take it back, Dr Baxter. You're doing incredible work.
Doc, could you turn the heat up a wee bit?
I guess us gingers feel the cold more than most.
And the pain.
Your temperature's still descending. Damn fly!
- When did you last blink? - Christmas.
Boo! Hmm...
- Has the sobbing subsided? - Aye, Doc.
I'm, er, I'm no' feeling so emotional now.
- Good. - You've made marvellous progress, Angus.
- I'm sure you'll blink soon. - I want to blend in...
...to be like everyone else.
All I want to do is cure the ills of men
by injecting them with large amounts of reptile plasma. Is that so wrong?
No, it's not wrong! Just because it's gone wrong doesn't mean it IS wrong.
It is wrong. Every one of my patients have rejected themselves.
- You're getting 60% healing on 100% burns! - Look at the side effects!
Deformity, depression, over-tongularity, blink deficiency,
and the most dreaded side effect of all, sui.
- Doctor? - Sui-side effect.
Did all those people commit suicide for nothing?
- Er... - Let's try again...
...together!
100% burns to clear skin in ten days.
Doctor, if this weren't a medical establishment, I'd invite you for a jig.
Will the board be concerned by Angus's tongue?
I'm thinking particularly of the length.
No, no, no. His wife spent an hour with him today. She seemed more than satisfied.
And are you going to mention that Angus is now addicted to the serum?
Let's not bore them with detail.
The important thing is we've reversed Angus's lizardisation.
I'll prepare him.
The stock of Serum 12 has dwindled.
Any idea why that is?
No.
Angus?
Aghhh!
Hanged by his own tongue.
Why, why, why, why...
why couldn't he have waited till tomorrow?
- He was such a kind and gentle man. - Aye, Angus wouldnae hurt a fly.
What possesses a ginger laddie to tak' his ain life?
- Probably all those injections of lizard serum. - Aye.
- Well, cut him down. - How can you be so cold-blooded?
If I appear thick-skinned, Doctor, forgive me. But I have a presentation to present.
Surely you're not suggesting we present Angus?
Well...
Sorry about that.
This case is empty!
Doctor, as a reptologist, have you ever come across such a thing as a chameleon?
No, I've no'.
The reason you can't see it is because it can blend in perfectly with its background.
Observe.
Astounding!
I've never seen anything so... unseeable!
So it's agreed? We abandon Serum 12 and concentrate on my chameleon serum theorem?
No, there's no time to refine it.
Our salvation lies with Angus.
Angus and the flame cabinet.
Professor MacLewton, my esteemed colleagues...
I have here a perfectly normal male Calvinist Caucasian cadaver.
Rest assured, gentlemen, it was Angus's wish he be cremated this way.
It merely happens in stages.
Witness the effect on the ankles...
...thighs...
...the wrists...
...chin...
...and finally, ears.
Looks like laddie could do with a wee dram...
...of Serum 12.
Here, gentlemen, is the dermatological discovery of the decade.
From this day hence, the scorched, the scalded and the crisp will stand proud and say...
..."Look at my skin.
"It isn't burnt any more."
- Yes, today... - He's turned green!
No, ignore the hue... The pallor...
This is the 1880s, man!
We are trying to run a medical establishment.
This is a freak show!
Yes, but you, you are the freaks!
You're intellectual dwarves!
Not one of you has any vision.
You're blind intellectual dwarves with no vision!
Sir, let me be as plain as a kilt with nae tartan.
You have until midnight tonight to clear out your laboratory and leave.
- But, Professor... - Dr Latimer,
I didn't bring you here to defend Dr Baxter.
I brought you here to replace him!
Forgive me, madam, but you are a shitty, shitty lady!
Good day.
All I want to do is blend in...
...to be like everyone else!
Empty.
- Scotch broth, Doctor? - Not now, Col.
Can I no' tempt you, Doctor? It's piping hot.
Wait a minute. Bring me that broth!
And a crusty roll.
Dr Baxter?
"Chameleon serum."
Empty.
Like taking haggis from a bairn!
Hello, handsome. Looking for a safe bet?
- Think you can raise me? - I've got a good hand!
So you're looking to spend your wad?
Come on!
What would you say if I asked you to?
Oh, my God...
- I'll pay double. - No...
Dr Baxter...
Is that you?
Is there something wrong? Cat got your tongue?
My work is my life. Dinnae take it away from me.
Your work is over.
Dr Latimer's report was most damning,
almost as if she has a personal vendetta against you.
Personal vendetta?
As for myself, let me be as blunt as a scotch egg.
I dinnae wish to see you any more.
So be it.
No! Keep off!
Mmm... Bovril.
Ouch!
This is perfectly safe.
Personal vendetta... Personal vendetta...
You, sir!
Stop, sir, in the name of the law!
Constable, is something wrong?
Aye, Miss. A horror to rival Nessie herself.
A-ha!
Jings crivvens! What on earth is it?
It's skin.
What kind of skin?
Shed skin.
But humans don't shed skin.
It may not be entirely human.
Whose are these clothes?
They're mine.
Well, I dinnae understand it.
I saw him come in here with my own two eyes.
Come on.
Thank you, Constable. Goodnight.
- Dr Latimer. - Doctor?
Aghh!
- Dr Baxter? - I'm not well.
I can help you...
...Father.
It's true.
- I'm your daughter. - Och, no!
My mother disappeared from your life because she was pregnant with your child.
She knew the scandal would ruin your career.
She took your notes thinking them love letters.
She left the notebook and your William Wallace toby jug to me.
I've worked on your theory since I was seven.
I could never have come up with a cure. But you did.
...with Serum 12.
- Serum 12 failed. - No.
- I killed Angus. - What?
I set it up to look like suicide.
Then I sabotaged your presentation to the board.
I knew you couldn't resist making a serum from the chameleon.
So I made sure it would contain a little extra.
But... But...
Oh, is it too late to say...
...sorry?
Save your apologies for my dead mother.
You'll be meeting her again very soon!
Are you all right, Miss?
I know you took the serum which makes you suicidal, but don't press that button.
Or that other one.
And whatever you do, don't press them all at once!
That would be sheer madness.
I couldn't stop him!
So there you have it, gentlemen. Perfectly formed breasts.
Appreciate, if you will, that only yesterday
these were liberally doused in scalding hot Bovril.
Yet, with one injection of my serum,
they are once more as God intended.
Thank you, gentlemen.
Now, if there are no further questions...
Dr Latimer!
That was truly diabolical.
Let me make it clear that no animals were harmed during tonight's tale.
Still, you can't have everything!
Goodnight!
Ripped & Corrected By mstoll February 2017
Ripped & Corrected By mstoll Released on www.Addic7ed.com