George Goodwrench gave Dr. Killjoy a startled expression when the tow truck pulled the Vega into the parking lot. He let out a low whistle. “Sheesh, Doc, I didn’t know any of these still existed. What do you keep it glued together with?” Doc’s eyes had a glassy, faraway look. “Doc? Hey, Doc, you in there?” asked George. Dr. Killjoy’s alter ego, Bruce, had just appeared. “Don’t you backtalk me, Mr. Goodbody,” said Bruce haughtily. “You are a silver tongued devil, you are. Why, your thoughts just fall down from your brain onto your tongue like a gumball machine.” “Huh?” said George.

Killjoy’s expression changed again. Next up was Neville, the hypochondriac. “Oy, ya killin’ me!” he said. “I can actually feel my ulcer growing, every time you speak.” “I don’t know what you’re going on about, Doc,” George said, perplexed. “You okay?” “Yeah, sure,” sneered Neville. “Everything is Rosie…cha cha cha!” George took a few steps back.

Another personality came to the forefront. Kyle was the suspicious one. He gave George a distrustful glance, then tried to slip out the door. George ran after him. “Hey, Doc, what about the car? We didn’t discuss what you wanted to have done.” Kyle turned around. “You should already know,” he said cryptically. “Know what?” asked George. “What?” said Kyle. “Have you told them already? I knew I couldn’t trust you. Now they know that we know that they know that we know.” “Hold on a minute,” said George. “I’m an honest man. I think you’re being a bit paranoid here.” Kyle sniffed. “Why do you think I’m being paranoid? Do you discuss this behind my back?”

The doctor had that faraway look on his face again. George took him by the shoulders and gave him a good shake. Killjoy began to speak. “I’m afraid the results are very disturbing. It seems that you have a rare case of brake fluid….I mean, brain fever. Or what we call in Norway…koineization.” George grabbed him by the collar. “Now look,” he said menacingly, “I’ve been talking to about four different guys here. YOU’RE the one who is disturbed!” Killjoy looked around uncomfortably. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “I seem to have lost track of time. What happened here?” “You can’t handle the truth!” yelled George, “whoever you are! You may not be driving that disaster on wheels, but YOU ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY!” He gave Dr. Killjoy a big push out the door and slammed it behind him.

“What do you think that was all about?” asked Bruce. “Who knows,” shrugged Neville. “That man gives me a headache.” Kyle gave them a knowing nod. “I don’t trust him. We’d better get out of here.” So they walked to the curb and hailed a cab. Or, at least one of them did, anyway.