GOURMET NIGHT
c 2000, Mark Barnard/Terrie Smith

** A HAVOC short sory. I reworked the basic gimmic for the opening sequence of HAVOC # 9 **

NOTE: The sock weasels guest 

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PAGE ONE:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL (across the page and nearly half down it): The control room of the Half Moon. Deck, in the foreground, is getting up from his seat. Chester, in the background, looks curiously across.

DECK (balloon one): Well, another seven hours to touchdown. Guess I'll head down to the galley and whip up a little dinner.

DECK (balloon two): Hope you're hungry! I'm feeling inspired!

CHESTER(thought balloon): !

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, waist-up in his seat, face turned to stare in frozen-faced alarm. Possibly a sheaf of now-crumpled papers in one hand?

CHESTER: Er...exactly what did you have in mind?

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck leaning on the top of the ringtail's seat, as Chester stares fixedly at the viewer, his mind visibly moving a mile a minute.

DECK (casually): I was thinking 'meatloaf'. I've got a new recipe I can't WAIT to try!

CHESTER (thinking): oh, no! Not again! Think fast, Chester!

PAGE TWO:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Side view, looking down past Deck's head, at Chester's upraised, ever-so-innocent face.

CHESTER: Chris, you've been working hard. Invoices, customs forms! _I_ think you deserve a special treat!

DECK: Oh?

UPPER TIER MIDDLE PANEL (narrow): Chester's face, vaguely crafty, as he warms to his pitch.

CHESTER: Definitely!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester on his feet, steering Deck back into his seat. Deck has reservations.

CHESTER: You just sit back! Put your feet up! Dinner's on ME tonight!

DECK: But I was looking forward to surprising you...

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, eyes rolling upwards, as he presses down on the protesting canine's shoulders from one side. Deck misses the look.

CHESTER (thinking): That's what I'm afraid of.

CHESTER (aloud): I don't think I've ever shown you what I can DO in the kitchen!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, dominant, looking up and over at Chester, who's leaning slightly back, one hand raised to his breast in shock.

DECK: I've seen you at work. You DO swing a mean can opener, but still...

CHESTER (wounded to the quick): I'll have you know I'm a gourmet chef!

BOTTOM TIER CENTER PANEL: Deck, looking uneasy. This is news to him. Though Chester prefers to eat like a gourmet, he's never shown that much initiative in the kitchen. Still, Chester is going to see this through. The instinct for self preservation is strong in this one.

DECK: Oh? And just when did this occur?

CHESTER (visibly sagging): Chris, how could you?

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, emoting away mile a minute.

CHESTER: <sniffle> All I w-wanted to do was make you something special...a-and this is the response I get?

PAGE THREE:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, looking apologetic, as Chester visibly preens at having pulled something. An optimistic Scoot peers around the far side of Deck's seat. Skit is on the top of the headrest, regarding Chester, with a little heart in a balloon hovering over its head.

DECK: Of course I didn't mean it that way. I just wouldn't want to put you to any trouble!

SCOOT (hopefully -- oh foolish creature): Treat?

CHESTER: It's no trouble at all!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, rubbing his hands in glee. He may yet live the night through.

CHESTER (happily): Actually, I'm happiest when I'm rattling around in the kitchen! Now you just relax!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck in the foreground, with Scoot in his lap, rubbing its head as they both watch Chester recede into the background at scene left, with Skit bouncing in pursuit.

CHESTER: Leave the cooking to ME!

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck trading a look with the weasel.

DECK: You REALIZE he's UP to something.

SKIT: Chirp?

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, rolling his eyes. Scoot rolls onto his back and grins.

DECK: Let's just wait and see what.

SCOOT (hopefully): Tell story? Pass time?

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Frontal shot of Deck, waist-up. A little balloon wafts up from beneath the field of vision. Deck looks uncooperative to the suggestion.

DECK: What?

SCOOT (off-scene): How 'bout one with woofs and little mouse in red?

DECK (thought balloon): <SIGH>

PAGE FOUR:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester entering the door at the far side of the galley. Skit is now perched on his shoulder, looking excitedly about. This is a grand, new undertaking.

CHESTER: Well, the adventure starts now!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped in front of him as he plots his first move. Skit is arched away from Chester's face, so he can stare into his eyes.

CHESTER: Where to start first?

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, seen from behind, reaching up and opening a well-stocked cupboard. Deck believes in keeping a wide assortment of spices on hand, just in case one or more of them should actually work.

CHESTER (thinking): I hated to LIE to Chris, but I'm just not up to another of his meatloaves, so soon! Hmm. What all's he got in here?

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, holding two containers in his hands, looking down, visibly out of his depth. Skit leans inquisitively forward from his perch.

CHESTER (thinking -- balloon one): Sage? Fennel?

CHESTER (thinking -- balloon two): I guess I'll start with these! They sound relatively harmless.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, slightly off-balance, a large pan and a number of packages of spice just barely balanced in one arm, while he tugs another pan out of the cupboard with his free hand. Skit is in danger of losing his perch.

CHESTER (thinking): This looks like everything Chris uses. Maybe this won't be so bad!

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: High shot of Chester standing at a countertop. He has the pan at one side and most of the spices lined up along the surface. He's frowning slightly.

CHESTER (thinking): I don't know. Something's...missing.

PAGE FIVE:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, one hand holding the elbow of his other arm. The hand of that hand is holding his chin and he's deep in thought. Skit is on the counter, standing on his hind legs to peer down into the empty pan.

CHESTER (thinking): But what?

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Facial shot of a beaming, inspired ringtail. Startled by the exclamation, Skit is losing his balance and falling into the pan.

CHESTER: AH! MEAT!

SKIT (thought balloon):!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, looking disapproving, as Skit peers nervously from the pan.

CHESTER: Preferably something with a little less fur...

SKIT: SQUEAK?!

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, bent to rummage in the storage area beneath the counter.

CHESTER: Okay. What we need is another pan!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, holding up an angel food pan and inspecting it critically.

CHESTER (thinking): Well, this one looks clean. Kind of a funny shape, though.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, seen across the countertop, as he turns and opens a refrigerator door.

CHESTER (thinking): Now for the meat.

PAGE SIX:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, lounging in the 'Nest, pretty much dressed, reading a book. The title is "The Asteroid Murders." Scoot is perched atop Deck's head, leaning forward to regard the opened book.

SCOOT: Deck? Killer is...

DECK: I DON'T want to know!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Scoot, dealing with deeply painful rejection. Fairly close shot of a wincing Deck and the weasel on his head, looking up and rather wistful.

SCOOT: 'S okay, you not want to know is captain. Scoot no CARE.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, rolled onto his stomach, the book lightly clutched in now disinterested fingers. He's leaning his cheek on the other hand and looking resigned. Scoot is partly visible beyond, his head in through the partly open slide-door of one of the cabinets which ring the bed.

DECK (thinking): Well, there goes another three hour's of peaceful reading.

SCOOT: Ooo! Scoot find TREASURE!

DECK (aloud): Stay OUT of the sock drawers, Scoot!

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck, in close facial shot. He's turning and reacting to an off-scene cry.

DECK (thinking): I wonder how Chester's doing?

SCOOT: WHEEE!!!

DECK (thinking):?

BOTTOM TIER PANEL (across page): Deck, prone, one hand stretched out to grab for a mirthfully bounding Scoot, who's proudly carrying a spare sock in his mouth.

SCOOT: SCOOT GOT NEW TREASURE!

DECK (thinking): Probably better than I am! Grrr!

PAGE SIX:

UPPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Frontal view of a perplexed Chester, his head and shoulders framed by something lumpy, largely shapeless and vaguely menacing.

CHESTER (thinking): This...doesn't look right.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Pull back to reveal a deeply troubled ringtail regarding a flabby pile of meat in the center of the pan. Skit is to one side, keeping a safe distance from the nasty thing. It's not actually making any overtly threatening moves, but he has his suspicions...

CHESTER (thinking -- balloon one): I'm almost certain that Chris's are never this color. 

CHESTER (thinking -- balloon two): Then again, it's not an UNATTRACTIVE shade of green...

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, staring at a dial as he reaches up to turn on the oven.

CHESTER (thinking): Oh, well. The color probably bakes out as it cooks. Let's see. We want this in a hurry, so...

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester's hand turning the dial. A digital display over it reads "700".

CHESTER (off-scene -- thinking): ...I'll just turn it up a little.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester again at the meatloaf, scooping up all kinds of spice containers.

CHESTER (thinking and looking pleased): Just a light dusting of everything to bring out the natural flavor!

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester in silhouette as he HEAVILY dusts the sagging stack of meat.

CHESTER (thinking): Wellll, maybe just a smidge more!

PAGE SEVEN:

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester beaming with the pride of an inspired artist, as he holds the trey at arms length, as he inspects his creation. One horn of the glob is coated with a THICK covering of spices, and the rest just looks generally suspect.

CHESTER (thinking): Hah! I think I'm getting the hang of this! It's easier than it looks.

UPPER TIIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, inserting the pan into the stove.

CHESTER (thinking): Oww! That heated up fast!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester speaking to a delighted Skit.

CHESTER: Well, that's done, Skit! How about a little treat while we're waiting?

SKIT (approving): Treat!

MIDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, removing a can from the refrigerator and glancing across at the off-scene door. Skit is again on his shoulder.

CHESTER: Chris's orange soda looks good!

SKIT (approvingly): Ooo!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL (wide): Chester at the table, seated, pouring the contents of the can into two glasses.

CHESTER: Drink up, Skit! We've earned it.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Skit, standing up, his face down in the foam of the drink. Chester is in the background, leaning back with his head pillowed by his arms. He's visibly at peace with the universe.

CHESTER: Ahh! Nothing like the satisfaction of a job well done!

PAGE EIGHT:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, in the 'Nest, glancing at a conveniently placed clock.

DECK: Hmm. It's been ninety minutes. I'd have expected him to be back by now.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck, sitting in the opening of the 'Nest, about to drop onto the control room deck. Scoot peers out at his side.

DECK: Let's go check, Scoot!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL (narrow): Deck, in silhouette, in the hall. Scoot bounds along beside him.

DECK: He's probably setting out candles or something. Everything's got to be a show!

MIDDLE TIER CENTER PANEL: Facial of Deck, sniffing and looking unsure.

DECK: <sniff-sniff> I should just turn around and go to bed. Now.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck peering tentatively in through the door at the back of the panel. Chester's waiting, hands behind him, looking a bit nervous. The table has several lit candles on it and a pointedly covered platter.

DECK: Umm...Chester?

CHESTER: I was, er, just coming to GET you. Soup's on (more or less)!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester easing a suspicious Deck into the booth.

DECK: You...didn't have any...problems?

CHESTER (quickly): None worth mentioning.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck looking slightly boggled as Chester beamingly lifts the cover on the platter, to reveal a misshapen, charred lump of meat from which highly suspect wafts of smoke are rising.

DECK (disconcerted): And...this is?

CHESTER: An old family specialty! It's...er...Twice Braised Vintage Virgin Pate' Loaf Au Carbon!

PAGE NINE:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, leaning back, holding his fork and knife up, vaguely as if to defend himself against the thick slab Chester's worried away from the main mass with a knife, and is moving uncomfortably close to him.

DECK (thinking): Then it's presumably SUPPOSED to look like this. Oookay.

CHESTER (aloud): Eat hearty! There's more when you're through!

CHESTER (thinking): If he'll just taste it, I'm sure he'll love it. I-it CANT be as bad as it looks!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck, prying a minute piece off with his fork, and regarding it with suspicion as Chester beams expectantly.

DECK (faintly and without enthusiasm): Yum.

CHESTER: Try it! Try it!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Facial of Deck, taking a bite.

MIDDLE TIER CENTER PANEL: Facial of Deck, going glassy-eyed. Possibly tears starting to pool in his eyes? The unswallowed morsel is a lump in one cheek.

CHESTER (off-scene): Well?

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, looking down in open concern. The table is barren except for Deck's plate and glass. One and is extended up from somewhere behind and below the table, clutching feebly. A little squiggle hovers over the invisible canine's head - possibly with a star or two thrown in.

CHESTER: Chris? Chris?!

BOTTOM TIER PANEL (across the page): Exterior of the ship, drifting through the universe.

SOUND EFFECT: FLUSSSHHHHHH!

CHESTER (balloon one): Aww, come on, Chris! You're not giving it a real chance!

CHESTER (balloon two): Just knock twice on the door if you can HEAR me!

**END**