The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. Page #2

very well she's in the number two spot.

The number two spot?

Second in charge

of the whole ""happy finger'' racket.

My ma couldn't be mixed up

in any racket.

Look, partner,

I hate to speak badly about mothers.

After all, motherhood is

the noblest institution in our land.

But the fact remains that your ma

is number two at headquarters right now.

She wouldn't keep me

in a place like this.

- I gotta see her.

- I wouldn't advise it.

- You'll never make it.

- I can try.

Well, I wouldn't try.

I know. All you'd ever try for

is time and a half for overtime.

Terwilliker Institute.

Collins speaking.

Yes, madam, the official

grand opening is tomorrow morning.

Your son will be picked up by bus

at 5:
00 a.m. sharp.

Collins speaking.

No, madam, most definitely not.

Your son will not be allowed

to bring his baseball.

Dr. Terwilliker does not believe in

baseballs, golf balls or tennis balls...

Ping-Pong balls, snowballs,

croquet balls or hockey pucks.

Dr. Terwilliker

believes only in the piano.

Now see here, you beanie makers.

This final batch just isn't up to snuff.

Take a look at those fingers.

Would you say

they were happy fingers?

They should be gay,

carefree, happy fingers.

Fix them, if you have to

stay up all night.

Mom!

Why are you standing there

with that null-and-void expression?

No, don't tell me.

I know the workings of your mind,

Mrs. Collins.

You've been thinking

of your son again.

How many times must I tell you

to burn that picture?

You've room in your life but for one

picture. My picture, Mrs. Collins!

Your future husband!

Have I not graciously condescended to

take your hand in marriage tomorrow...

immediately following

the official grand opening?

Sergeant Lunk

reporting to headquarters.

Cell number one-

the boy is not in it.

The boy is not in it?

Well, search for him! Find him!

Yes, sir, Dr. Terwilliker, sir.

Your son.

And you said he could be trusted.

Tonight of all nights, the very night

before my institute opens...

and your son dares

to flaunt my authority.

So he doesn't like the neat, clean,

comfortable cell I've given him, eh?

Very well. From now on,

he doesn't have to sleep there.

From now on, Mrs. Collins,

your boy sleeps in the dungeons!

Mrs. Collins...

turn on searchlights

number one to fifty, inclusive!

Pursuit Squadron A!

Where in thunderation are you?

We're working north, sir...

from the barbed wire

on the south side.

Good.

Where's Pursuit Squadron B?

We're working south, sir...

from the barbed wire

on the north side.

Mrs. Collins,

searchlights 50 to 90, inclusive!

Twin guards!

Where are you?

Judson! Whitney!

We're down here, sir,

searching the piano.

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