Outside, the muffled, frantic sounds of Munch’s synth-polka keyboard solo are vibrating through the walls. CHUCK E. has gone completely overboard. He has used so much duct tape, masking tape, and Scotch tape that the entire cuckoo clock is completely buried inside a massive, chaotic silver ball. But there’s a bigger problem. In his frantic, high-speed taping frenzy, Chuck E. wrapped the tape around his own hands, arms, and stomach. He is now completely, utterly fused to the giant ball of tape and clock parts. CHUCK E. (Straining, trying to pull his arms free, his voice muffled against the tape) Unh... gnnrgh... come on... (He tries to take a step, but his feet are taped together too. He wobbles, losing his balance, and falls flat on his back with a soft, sticky thud.) CHUCK E. (Sighs, staring up at the ceiling, completely immobilized) Well... this is embarrassing. (From inside the kitchen, the keyboard solo suddenly comes to an abrupt, crashing halt. A loud "Thank you very much!" from Munch echoes, followed by Helen saying, "Okay, now I am definitely going outside!") CHUCK E. (Eyes widening in pure panic) Oh no, she's coming! (He frantically tries to wriggle across the floor like a caterpillar, but he's stuck tight to the floorboards.) CHUCK E. (Gulping) I think it’s now time for Plan B! Mehr sehen