Collectively, they could solve a million problems on Earth.
Their knowledge spanned astronomy, astrophysics, physics, mechanical engineering, the International Space Station, Klingonese, and everything that Xbox 360 dared to pit against them.
They were, essentially, a Fantastic Four.
However, tonight, they decided to ponder the unanswerable enigma of the other Fantastic Four..
Namely, if Mister Fantastic, Reed Richards, was knocked out or killed when he was in his elongated, stretched out form, would he revert back to normal human shape or stay all stringy and spaghetti-like?
All this while they played one of their card-carrying sword and sorcery / fantasy games at Sheldon and Leonard's apartment. Call it 'Nerd Multi-Tasking'.
"Of course, he'd shrink back to human form. All that stretching requires a lot of concentration," Howard insisted, shuffling his cards and presenting, "Atomic Walrus."
"But I've seen him on the cover of an issue of Fantastic Four," Raj countered, "all stretched out, slippery and wiggly, and on his back, clearly knocked out. I'll see your Atomic Walrus and raise you an Invisible Nanny-Goat."
"How could you tell? Was he breathing? Maybe he was laying there, all twisted and gooey, moaning in pain from the zapping that laid him out. A comic book panel is a static image, displaying a moment in time. Behold, my enemies...my Depressed Dragon!" Howard said, playing his card.
"Oh, God, now you're beginning to sound like him! 'Static image' my Indian eye!" Raj groaned, tossing a thumb towards Sheldon.
"Excuuuse me, but...oh, wait, that would be a compliment. I accept your compliment, Raj!" Sheldon grinned.
"It wasn't a compliment!" Raj frowned. "Hypnotic Chicken."
"Al-righty then; so why didn't he shrink back to human form?" Howard challenged.
Sheldon answered, instead. "Logically, if stretching out of shape requires complex concentration, then ergo shrinking back into shape must require enough concentration from Mister Fantastic, that he couldn't possibly retain in an unconscious state. And while I'm on a roll... Hooded Swordsman With A Lisp."
"Don't help me!" Howard sneered, preferring to remain at odds with Sheldon, rather than alongside him.
"I thought we were discussing why Penny was flirting with that guy at Staples?" Leonard weakly reminded.
"Nobody cares, Leonard," Sheldon bluntly assured. "Now back to Mister Fantastic's stretching ability-"
"Why stop there? Let's bring in DC Comics's Elongated Man and Plastic Man, since they possess identical powers. Wouldn't the same rules adhere to them and their stretching-requires-concentration requirement?" Raj suggested.
"Now, now, now," Sheldon admonished. "One stretchy freak at a time. And don't you dare compare the genius of Mister Fantastic to the slippery, reformed criminal character of Plastic-Man or that borning, forgetable rip-off, Elongated-Man! It's also a terrible name! It has no class and just sounds weird! Now, as I recall in issue number fifty-" Sheldon began, but was quickly interrupted by a frustrated, disinterested Leonard, who leaped off the couch..
"I'm going for a walk."
"Off to stretch your legs?!" Howard joked. "Bazinga!'
Sheldon stared at him in shock. "Now you're using my 'bazinga'? That's my catchphrase!"
"It's a free world. And I don't see a copyright attached to it with your name on it, so you can just bazinga yourself!" Howard grinned.
Raj chuckled, and held up a hand to high-five. "Good one!"
"I try!" Howard blushed, and high-fived his best friend.
Leonard was about to go downstairs, until he noticed a delivery man standing outside of Penny's door. He covered his hesitation by pretending to approach the out-of-order elevator, and then climb down a few steps, but pressed his back against the wall, and listened closely.
Penny's door opened up and her sweet voice filled the foyer.
"What the hell's the matter with you, Ricky?! You're getting later and later every time!"
Leonard's heart sank, but he continued to listen.
"Hey, lady, I get minimum wage for this dumb delivery job! Do you want your frickin' shoes or not?"
Penny grabbed the package like a starving prison inmate, then caressed them like a newborn. "Yes! I do!" she pouted. She looked down at the box and whispered, "You're home now, sweet things! And Mommy's gonna wear you til she drops!" He struggled to balance the shoe box and her purse and pulled out some money. "For you, Ricky! Maybe you'll be able to buy yourself something pretty with that tip!"
Leonard silently breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that he was just a delivery guy and Penny wasn't cheating on him. Meanwhile, Ricky the delivery guy stared at the money, then the invoice, and sighed heavily. "Wowwww. Now I can buy a really big chocolate bar! Thanks for helping me feed my family! And my name's Carlos, not 'Ricky'."
Penny stuck her tongue out at him, and slammed the door in his face. His shoulders sagged, and he spun on his heel, sighing aloud, "God, I love her!"
Leonard's eyes bugged out at that silent confession. He thought they hated each other, but Penny's charms had ensnared even a lowly delivery guy that hated his job and even endured crappy tips from customers! Penny was incredible! She could put anyone under her spell with that face!
Carlos the delivery guy nearly bumped into Leonard on the steps, and stared at him, seemingly remembering he saw the little guy heading downstairs. Leonard did some quick thinking, and got mixed up with Penny, so what came out wasn't what he wanted to cover his tracks with...
"Forgot my high heels."
Carlos the delivery guy stared at him, and watched Leonard's face fall from embarrassment. He stepped around Leonard, strolled down the stairs and turned the corner. Then he snuck a look back up at Leonard, asking himself if he'd truly heard what he thought he heard.
"Freaky building," Carlos murmured to himself.
Meanwhile, Leonard steeled his courage and knocked on Penny's door. One of these days he'd do a Sheldonesque knock-knock-knock-Penny gag, but he wasn't feeling too cheery right now. She swung open the door and beamed as she saw Leonard.
"Hiiii! Looky-looky-looky!" she cried with joy, waving a pair of silver sandals in front of him, which she'd torn out of their packaging in 20 seconds flat. "Check 'em out! Real imitation Gucci Greek sandals from my Shoe-Of-The-Month club! And they only cost me $129!"
Leonard shrugged his shoulders as she ushered him in, as he said, "Well, if you really don't need to eat for the next two weeks...I guess they're a bargain!"
"Eh! I'm an actress- who needs to eat? I've got shoooooes! Pretty-pretty-pretty shoooes! Come on in, and I'll model them for you!"
Leonard stepped into her messy apartment, his mind whirling through what he wanted to say, what he shouldn't say, how ridiculous Sheldon was acting, and how long he'd have to compliment Penny's choice of footwear before he could move on to what he wanted to talk about.
"So, what's up?" she asked, walking back and forth in her sandals.
"Well, it's like this. I noticed that...um...damn, those look hot!" he admitted watching her stroll back and forth for him.
"I knooow! I feel like some kinda Greek goddess wearing these! Like that Star Trek episode, you know?"
"Right, the thing is...what Star Trek episode?" he asked, surprised that she could remember any episode of anything that he'd forced her to watch with him.
"The one with that hunky Greek guy, Apollonia, Apple-something, and he likes one of Kirk's lady crew members and changes her uniform into a lovely gown and Greek sandals? Then the Enterprise blows away his house with those phaser-things and he fades away? Those shoes!"
Leonard couldn't help but smile at her rendition of 'Who Mourns For Adonais?' and the character of Apollo falling for Lieutenant Carolyn Palamis.
"And that's what you took away from that episode?"
"Oh, honey, I don't care about hidden meanings and momentos and morals-of-stories. However, shooooes- I loooove! I bet you never even noticed what kind of shoes your green Orion chicks were wearing?"
"Um. They don't wear shoes."
"I KNEW IT! You were checking them out behind my back!" she tease, tweaking his cheek like a little boy..
He blushed like that little boy, and responded, "They don't wear shoes because their slave girls! They're not allowed to wear any type of footwear!"
Seeing that she was just goading him, he tried to get back on track and confront her about her flirtatious behavior.
"Obese French Elf," Howard said, playing his latest card.
Raj shuffled his cards, found one and said excitedly, "In that case I will counter-attack with my mighty Growling Troll!"
They waited for Sheldon to play his card, but Sheldon was too busy staring daggers at Howard. The Beatle-mopped nerd noticed this, and shifted in his seat. "What?"
"Oh, I think you know!" Sheldon insinuated.
Howard shook his head, looking innocent. "No, I really don't know. What the bazinga are you talking about!"
"There! You did it again! Stop that!"
"Me?! Stop what?"
"Using my word!" Sheldon whined.
"Now, would I bazinga that to you?"
""Come on, come on!" Raj whined. "Just forget all this bazinga-ing and let me play my all-powerful Rock Lobster-Man card!"
"Why're you doing this, Howard? I don't go around lamenting my mother's unfortunate weight challenges! That's your schtick, as your people would say! Mine is 'bazinga'! It's mine and only mine! Just like this is My Spot! Always has been and always will!"
"Come on, guys!" Raj complained. "I have sweet vengeance in the palm of my hand with a card that'll decimate any creature or piece of cursed furniture that you have! Let's keep playing! We've weeded out Lovesick Leonard, so-"
"Bazinga is my sacred word! It is under my proprietorship, and mine alone!" Sheldon insisted, almost sounding Vaderesque in his threatening tone. "I forbid you to ever use it again!"
"Get over it, you little bazinga!"
"Stop that!" Sheldon cried out, petulantly.
"I can`t seem to stop myself!` Howard grinned. "Ònce you go bazinga, you never go back! In the meantime, I have to visit the Little Bazinga-Boy's Room!"
Sheldon watched Howard leave the room, his frown growing deeper than the Grand Canyon. Raj fell back in his seat as the bathroom door closed, and the silent living room became a dark and frightening place as Sheldon steamed over this latest debacle. Curse these silly American boys and their strange ways! Now he'd never get to destroy all of them with his piece de resistance card, his ultra-powerful Radioactive Canadian Goose Of Doom!
As much as Leonard wanted to get right to the point, he recalled that opening with a joke could ease tensions, sooo...
"So, what's up in Sheldon Land? Have you finally escaped through the secret tunnel to my place, or are you avoiding one of his sulking marathons?" Penny asked, smiling down at her shoes, still in her own little world.
"Uh, I...heard a joke! And I want to share it with you!"
"Oh. Okay. But, sweetie, it better not be like the one about the guy that finds his so-called 'best friend' in bed with his wife, and the best friend turns out to be a-"
"No, no! It's nothing like that!" he assured her, his shoulders sagging from embarrassment. That joke fell like the asteroids from Deep Impact! "Okay, so where do the Borg like to vacation?" Penny shook her head. "Cube-ah!" She stared blankly at him. "Get it? Cube-ah!"
"Is that...like one of those...elements or theoretical thingamagigees or something?"
"Don't you get it? It's a play on the country of Cuba! They fly in cube-shaped ships and they like to vacation-aw, forget it. It's not important."
"I agree."
"Um, so anyways, I really wanted to ask you about something, and it's kinda important to me, but it might bother you, but it's bothering me right now, so..."
"Okay. Just tell me."
Leonard hesitated, looking like he wanted to ask his boss for a huge raise, but finally he opened his mouth and went for it.
"You know how this morning we went to Staples to look for a new mouse for you and we had to get some help because they didn't have what you wanted, and that Staples guy offered to help and you smiled at him and joked around, even though I was right there, and he was taller than me and kept calling me 'your little brother', and I tried to correct him and you sorta did, too, but he was just so into you that he just kept talking to you, even after he'd ordered the pink Mini Mouse computer mouse that you-"
"Sweetie, you're giving me one of my sick headaches. Can you just get to the point?"
"You were flirting with that guy! I was right there, and you flirted with him!"
"Flirted?! Are you kidding me?! I was just being cordial and being nice so that I could get my mouse as soon as possible! I wasn't intentiionally trying to hit on him! The guy had a weird little nervous tick that was, trust me, not endearing! Maybe you thought he was winking at me, but after the fifteenth tick I figured it out that he couldn't help himself!"
"But, that's just it, don't you see? You can't help but flirt with- with all those eyes and lips and curves!"
"What am I, a space-octopus?!" Penny sneered with wide-eyed confusion.
"No, of course not, but my point is still valid! You look like that, and you can't help but flirt, because any guy would think you're flirting, even if you aren't!"
"What? That's nuts. Let me prove it to you, by not flirting with Stewart at the comic book store."
"Stewart?!" Leonard cried. "You could cough on him with the ebola virus and the flu and he'd think you were complimenting him and then ask you out! The sad thing is, is that I'd probably be in the same boat as him."
"So what are you asking me to do? Lock myself in my apartment, and never speak to another guy again?"
"Oh, no! No-no. Wellll..." Leonard considered, until he saw Penny's hostile expression, and quickly changed his mind. "No, of course not! But, it gave me an idea, and I'd like to propose a challenge."
"Go on."
"Just to prove my point that men will interpret anything you say as flirtation, thanks to your looks and sunny personality, I propose an experiment. We'll see firsthand how men react to you, but I think I deserve to flirt twice as much as you, 'cause I don't stand as much of a chance of success as you." Leonard suggested.
"Way to show me some backbone, honey!"
"Just being realistic."
"So, you think it's okay for me to flirt, as long as you can double-flirt?"
"Just as an experiment. It won't go anywhere."
"Better believe that! 'cause if any chick tries to visit your Fortress of Solitude, I'll scratch her eyes out with your plastic Wolverine claws!"
"Okay. Fair enough. So...you're game?"
"No chance in hell."
"But, I thought-"
"Why would you even want to flirt with another woman in front of your loving girlfriend, unless there's something wrong with us? Like, maybe, you have a deathwish, or something!"
"Okay, You're right. I don't know what I was thinking," Leonard admitted, his shoulders sagging.
"That's very true- you weren't thinking, my little Science Guy!" Penny told him, through a forced smile.
"Oh, okay. Well, how about this? If I feel like you might be, just might be, flirting with a guy without realizing it, maybe I could give you a secret code to let you know?"
"What? Like a little girl crying?" she asked.
Man!, Leonard thought, This was going to be a tougher sell than he thought!
The following day Sheldon was running late for a meeting with the Dean, and quickly gathered his papers and notes and was nearly out the door when his phone rang. He paused and considered his options. One; answer the phone and berate the caller for bad timing; two; respond to the Dean, on the other end of the line, if indeed it was him calling; or three; wreak vengeance on the doofus that called the wrong number and made him even later.
With no alternative that didn't involve not answering the call, Sheldon dropped his papers back on his desk and picked up the phone. "Hello, this is Sheldon Cooper."
"HELLO, IS THIS SHELDON COOPER, HOWARD WOLOWITZ'S LITTLE FRIEND?!" a confused-sounding, gravely, scratchy voice sqauwked on the other end, sounding as if she had no idea of how to 'turn down' the volume of her own voice.
Sheldon blinked, confused by the unexpected phone call. " ?"
"SHELDONNN?" she bellowed.
"Yes, this is Sheldon, . What can I do for you?
'HELLO, SHELDON? HOW ARE YOU?!" she called out. He opened his mouth to respond, but she interrupted him. "HOWARD ASKED ME TO CALL YOU! HE SAID IT WAS IMPORTANT!"
"Really? What did he want?'
'LEMME CHECK HERE! I GOT IT WRITTEN DOWN HERE ON MY BOX OF PREPARATION H! GEEZ, I MUST HAVE BEEN HIGH ON COUGH SYRUP WHEN I WROTE THIS! IT MAKES NO SENSE, BUT, HOWARD TOLD ME YOU'D BE ABLE TO DECIPHER IT'S MEANING!"
"I'll try my best, . What's the message?""
'ARE YA READYYYY?!"
"Yes!"
"IT SAYS...BAZINGA!"
Sheldon's face fell as he stared, incredulous, at his phone.
"'BAZINGA'?! WHAT THE HELL IS 'BAZINGA'?!"
"I understand the message, ."
"THEN TELL ME WHAT IT MEANS! IS IT A SECRET SPACE CODE?!"
"Mirs. Wolowitz-"
"IS IT THAT NERDY STAR TREK WARS MUMBO-JUMBO AGAIN?! IS THAT WHAT ALL THAT GROWLING FROM CAPTAIN CHEWBACCA MEANS?! WHAT'S 'BAZINGA'?!" she hollered, completely confused.
"Mrs. Wolo-"
'TELLMETELLMETELLMETELLME! WHAT THE HECK IS A BAZINGA?! IS THAT LIKE X-RAY VISION OR AN INVISIBILITY SUIT?!
"No, it's not, Mrs. Wol-"
"THEN, WHAT IS IT?! WHAT'S 'BAZINGA'?! IS IT SOMETHING CONTAGIOUS?! DOES IT HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE?!"
Sheldon ended up being 17 minutes and 16 seconds late for his meeting with the Dean.
Later on that same day, Sheldon was at home and was feeling particularly hungry for his own specific, only-one-in-the-universe Pizza Hut personal pan pizza, so he hit the speed dial on his smart phone and waited for the common man on the other end of the line to answer.
"Hello, Pizza Hut. This is Larry, can I help you?"
"Hello, this is Sheldon Cooper, apartment 4A, at 2311 North Los Robles Avenue. I'd like to order my standard personal pan pizza- double asiago cheese, cubed-chopped mushrooms, finely chopped Belgian endive lettuce, and topped with a single cucumber slice cut to the thickness of 5 millimeters in the center of the pizza."
"Oh, yes, I see you have a special account with us. ."
"Doctor Cooper, actually."
"Yes, sir. I have just one question, as per new instruictioons."
Sheldon paused, looking confused. "'What 'new instructions'?"
"It reads...'Would you like Bazinga with that?'"
Sheldon cringed with surprise and growled, "Wolowitz!"
The next evening, Sheldon, Leonard, and Howard and Bernadette were at the Cheescake Factory, waiting for Raj to show up. Penny was serving a different table, and knew enough not to approach the gang's table until everyone was there, as per Sheldon's strange preference. Unfortunately, Amy wasn't able to join them since she was at work locked into a debate regarding her department's project to cross the DNA of a kangaroo with a French poodle.
Not to do with the ethics or repercussions of creating such a thing- rather the scientists and Amy were debating, once the animal was created, whether to call it a 'Kangaroodle' or a 'Poogaroo'.
The debate was already in its fourth hour.
Too bad, actually, since she was a valuable buffer against Sheldon's lunacy!
"I've got a weird question for you guys," Bernadette said, facing Sheldon and Leonard. "It has to do with Howie."
"What? Me? Why not ask me?"
"Because they might know something that you don't."
"Ask away," Leonard encouraged.
"Well, it's kinda silly, but Howie was talking in his sleep last night, and he mentioned a name. At least, I think it's a name."
Howard's face went white and he became distinctly uncomfortable. A name?! That could be anyone!
"W-w-w-who's name?" he stuttered, uncomfortably.
Bernadette hesitated, looked at her husband, then his friends, and blurted out, "Who the hell is 'Plastic Man'?!"
Howard relaxed, realizing it wasn't a problem.
"And why would you want to compete with him in a stretching contest at your Bar Mitzvah?!"
Now it was a problem!
"You didn't even call yourself 'Howard'!" she noted. She turned to Leonard, and added, "'Mister Fantastic', my eye! You weren't exactly Mister Fantastic last Saturday night!"
Even bigger problem, now!
Fortunately, the confusion was allieviated by the Cheesecake Factory's hostess coming out from the office, clutching the restaurant's outside-line phone and calling out,
"Good evening everyone! Is there a Shelley Bazinga here? Shelley Bazinga?!"
Sheldon frowned angrily at Howard, whose shoulders were bouncing up and down as he chuckled to himself behind his menu.
"Phone call for Shelley Bazingaaa!"
Sheldon was going to go all-Romulan on Howard's backside, when Raj suddenly showed up, unfortunately diverting everyone's attention to him. His face showed what appeared to be a great deal of annoyance, his white-knuckled hand clutching a beer bottle, as he flopped down into the only available chair at the table.
"I cannot belieeeve this place! Where's Penny?! I wish to lodge a customer complaint!"
"What happened, buddy? We've been waiting over 20 minutes for you to show up!" Howard noted.
"And I was almost on time! Unfortunately, I didn't have any 'liquid courage', as it were, on hand," Raj frowned, raising his beer. "And thanks to the manager of this place hiring that super-hottie at the front as the new hostess, I froze up! I couldn't tell her I was here to meet you guys, or that I even understood your cockmamee-English flickin' language!"
"So, what happened?" Leonard wanted to know.
"I was trapped out front! I couldn't look her in the eye, I couldn't say I was here to meet you, and so she led me to the chairs where people wait, patted me on the shoulder, and told me I could wait here until my 'hearing-ear dog' or Nanny showed up! I've never been so insulted and so turned on at the same time! Who would have thought someone being so condescending could have such lovely eyes?"
"Did you sneak in when she wasn't looking?" Howard guessed.
"No! I couldn't get past her, because she never left!"
"Did you distract her with an off-the-cuff BAZINGA?!" asked Howard.
"Stop that!" Sheldon snapped.
Raj continued. "No, she just directed people back here and smiled at me like I was a cute little Indian puppy dog, probably waiting for 'my people' to show up! FYI, I seem to be the only Indian that comes to this dump! Finally, a family of six arrived and I leaped up, making like I belonged with them!"
"Uhhh...how...?" Leonard asked, unwilling to get too politically-incorrect, since the Cheesecake Factory didn't exactly corner the market on Indian clientele.
"That's just it! I made it seem like I was one of them- the Dawes, and the hostess just accepted me as one of them! And when they saw me sit down with them, the family I snuck in with wouldn't let me leave! I was nearly adopted into the Dawes family! I just escaped now from them, when Daddy Dawes sent back his soup and wanted more bread!"
"Who are the 'Dawes'?" Leonard asked, looking around.
"Check it out! That Jamaican family over there, mon! How racist is that?! How could I be one of them, mon?! Just because I'm not a pasty-faced honky, mon?! Whoops! He's looking for me! Don't tell Daddy Dawes that I'm here! I stole his beer, mon! Order me some jalapeno poppers to start off with!"
Raj snuck under the table and remained there until the appetizers showed up.
Later on during the meal, the gang were deciding whether or not to have dessert (considering that none had ever actually had the cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory, now seemed as good a time as ever), so everyone was perusing the menu, with the exception of Leonard. His insecurity regarding Penny's adorableness was still on his mind, and he couldn't help but watch her in action as she served her customers.
Somehow, he'd actually managed to get her to agree to a subtle code he could say when he felt she was crossing the line, and somehow, his scientific mind was on high alert and observed a transgression of the rules.
"Shields up!" he called out loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.
Penny slowly turned around, dumbstruck. He motioned to her, giving her a horizontal wave (the second part of the signal), and she looked at him like he was insane. He mouthed the word 'What?!', and she shook her head, and waved a hand at her customers- a middle-aged blind Chinese man, and his equally-blind wife. Both wore dark sunglasses and seemed to look about the room, unsure what that odd exclamation was about. They were accompanied by their three sons- every one of which looked like Arnold from Happy Days.
Leonard shrugged his shoulders and pointed at the old blind man, but all Penny did was mouth an uncalled-for obscenity and turn her back on him. Leonard's friends were all staring at him, makiing him turbn red with embarrassment. Nobody knew about the code.
"What?" he asked, nonchalantly, pretending to check the dessert menu. "My shields are up for cheescake...but not pie!"
"Leonard?"
"Yes, Sheldon?"
"I still don't care."
The following day was Laundry Day, as per Sheldon's weekly schedule that he had lamenated and glued to the fridge next to the Apartment Flag. Sheldon entered the building's laundrymat, his basket filled nearly to the top with mildly-soiled clothing he'd worn during the week, his precious Flash t-shirt, the one and only official DC Comics-endorsed Flash t-shirt with precisely-matched scarlet color scale and precision engineered, perfectly rendered white circle, was on top. It sported an unfortunate drop of almond milk from a particularly soggy bowl of Cheerios from two days ago, and the milk spot actually made the Flash`s awesome yellow lightning bolt look like a confused, shaky exclamation point, which was quite annoying!
He noticed that only one machine was available, even though the lid was closed. He lifted it open, and was suddenly startled out of his mind with a bouquet of plastic flowers and a blast of silver confetti exploding outwards in every direction throughout the room, accompanied by a wailing screech of a car alarm.
From his shocked position on the floor, sitting on his bottom, Sheldon stared, incredulous, at the colorful sign declaing 'BAZINGA!' across it's banner, as the car alarm continued to wail and hurt his ears. He shook his head, loosening some of the silver confetti that had fallen on top of his short hair, looked down at the handfuls of silver bits that lay upon his dirty laundry, and dared to become little bits of silver litter on his Flash t-shirt.
He whispered malevolently,
"Oh, it's on, little man! You have awakened a sleeping giant with a brain 9.61 percent larger than yours! He tasks me and I shall have him! I`ll chase him `round the moons of Nibia, and around the Antares Maelstrom, and around Perdition`s flames before I give him up! Make it so, Mister Cooper!``
The office was bustling with activity...if you could call a dozen people tapping at computers 'bustling'. Sheldon clutched his file folders in his hands (all six of them- colored-coded and alphabetized, naturally), and approached what would appear to be a run-of-the-mill receptionist. Run-of-the-mill because he'd seen so many on television that she fit the bill perfectly, what with her excessively long painted nails, horn-rimmed glasses, out-of-date hair style, and excessively photographic-decorated desk, which included images of, presumably, her children, and a photo-shopped rendition of herself and George Clooney. Strike that- Clooney was obviously cut out of an issue of the National Enquirer with her shaky hands, if the frayed edges of his naked pectoral region was any indication. And then there was the mismatched lighting of her image and Clooney's.
"May I help you?"
"Why, yes, you might, at least, in the interim, until such time as you direct me to your immediate superior, i.e. someone with my required information and expertise. I require the services of someone to patent my idea."
"Oh. Well, please have a seat, and I'll see what I can do for you, Mister...?" the woman smiled, offering her hand.
"Cooper, Sheldon Cooper, PhD., possessor of a Master's degree, and more doctoral degrees than Doctor Octopus has limbs! I am a renowned theoretical physicist from Caltech University in Sacramento. And please don't expect me to shake you hand- I already sense that an ungodly number of foreign bacteria are taking up residence in this building, and the chances that I might accidentally become infected by them seems far too ridiculously high to take any chances."
"Oh. Really?" the woman frowned, unimpressed, as she withdrew her hand. "Afraid of cooties, are you?"
"Oh, my, yes! But don't take it personally- I abhor human contact on every level, and as a rule don't shake hands with anyone if I can help it."
"Okay."
"Except Stan Lee. I hugged Stan Lee."
"Riiight."
"Mm. He didn't like it too much either, but gosh darn it, it was Stan Lee inside Stan Lee's home! What else could I do when presented with the creator of such notable superheroes as-"
"Mister Cooper, may I help you with your patent?" the woman asked through gritting teeth.
Sheldon recovered from a mental inundation of pleasant memories and got to the point. "That's Doctor Cooper. May I speak with a patent officer? You're charming enough, in a Southern California office clerk kinda of way, but I think you would agree that a mere receptionist-"
"I am a Patent Officer."
"No."
"Yes."
Sheldon starred at her and her desk, and even noticed a diploma from her college. His response was typical Sheldon. "Nooo?!"
"Yes, I am!" the lady snapped, then recovered quickly. "My name is Mrs. Krantz, and I will handle your patent request. Shall we get started?"
Sheldon's shoulders sagged, and he sighed, "I suppose so," sounding as if he'd been offered a cheap photograph of Stan Lee, instead of a second one-on-one meeting.
"Very well. Tell me the details," she asked, placing a blank form before her and picking up a pen she stole from a Holiday Inn in Orlando. "You said you're from Caltech University? Are you looking to patent an invention of yours?"
"Yes, I am. It's mine! All mine and nobody else's!"
"Very good. Can you tell me what it is?"
Sheldon looked to the left and then to the right, as if about to impart a Big Secret.
"I wish to patent 'Bazinga'!"
Mrs. Krantz looked up from her paper over her pointy horn-rimmed glasses and stared at him for a few moments as the word tried to register in her mind. It didn't sound like anything she'd heard of before. Confused, she shook her head and asked, "What is that? Some kind of new telescope or a ray gun?"
"No, it's my catchphrase."
"Excuse me?" Mrs. Krantz blinked.
"It's my catchphrase," Sheldon repeated, nonplussed by her confusion. "I invented it and I use it all the time."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes, indeed!"
"Do you plan to put it on clothing or a billboard or something?" Mrs. Krantz wondered.
"No, I simply utter it, like my very own version of Billy Batson's 'Shazam!' Sparingly, at times, but when the time is right, I just let loose a good ol' fashioned 'Bazinga!' and watch my friend's faces fall as they get served!"
"Uuuhh...right."
"However, now one of my university colleagues, one who doesn't possess a PhD, by the way, has infringed upon my sacred territory, and has started using it as if it's his own! He even used it in a derogatory fashion by combining it with my childhood and a private location within my mother's birth canal! I wish to patent it, so that everytime this nimrod dares to uetter it he will be forced to pay me a royalty! And that brought me here-"
"Mister Cooper, uh, Doctor Cooper!" Mrs. Krantz sighed, waving a hand to stop him in mid-sentence and crumpling up his application in the other. She tossed it into her 'Peanuts' garbage can and insisted, "You can't trademark or patent a word just to get back at someone else! The English language is freely open to everyone to use in any way they wish, even as an insult to you! Which I'm beginning to think is pretty easy!"
"I beg to differ! In fact, this folder here, File RT588455G805VM/3111-OSQ in the blue folder contains 137 examples-"
"Just because you have a big, long, silly set of inconsequential numbers on a file folder-"
"They are not inconsequential, Mrs. Krantz! That is a legitimate code number, each number and letter representing a specific list, column, diagram, replication and data file! I stayed up for 37.3 hours in a row to complete it! For example, the 'RT' stands for-"
"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!" the frazzled patent officer cried out, garnering the attention of her co-workers. She calmed down and ran a hand through her graying hair, stating more calmly, "Your request is completely unreasonable! And for that matter-"
"Where's the beef," an old, deep male voice interrupted from a desk near her. She and Sheldon looked across at the old man, who was also a patent officer. He repeated, "'Where's the beef?' is a registered trademark. As ridiculously as it sounds, you have to patent his catchphrase, Gretchen, because we do patent and trademark catchphrases."
"No, I won't!" Mrs. Krantz frowned, crossing her arms defiantly. "Be serious, Henry! He's another weirdo off the street!"
"A trademark or catchphrase is one of the most important business assets anyone can own. It'll distinguish him from others in the marketplace, so fill out the questionnaire, conduct an online trademark search and complete his application, so you can trademark his application with the USPTO," old Henry told her.
"But-but- Henry, but this is ludicrous! He's not a company! He's not even a small business! He's just some nut off the street-"
"I am a scientist, missy!"
"-who wants to trademark a word, a single silly-sounding word that he concocted, because he's pissed off someone he knows has used it! And he's got an annoying fake sense of superiority, acting like he's smarter than everyone else!"
"I am smarter than everyone else," Sheldion asserted, with deadpan certainty. "And by patenting my catchphrase you'll no doubt have many fascinating stories to tell your little circle of friends about. You're welcome."
Grinding her teeth, growled, "Look here, you-"
"Patent it," Henry said, interrupting her. "Other people have patented catchphrases before him."
"I can't-"
"Patent it, Mrs. Krantz. Don't make me take drastic action. Remember last year's Vladimir The Drunk Squirrel Case?"
Mrs. Krantz hesitated, remembering the infamous incident all-too-well. She looked sourly at Sheldon, who perked up and smiled back. Yanking open a drawer without looking down, gritting her teeth towards Sheldon, and slamming a new form on her desk, she pulled her pen out of a decorative coffee cup stuffed with pens and pencils, and asked through clenched teeth,
"Is that 'Bazinga' with one 'Z' or two?"
Sheldon smiled back, feeling quite victorious.
Howard showed up without notice at Sheldon's office at the University. It was unexpected because nobody was allowed into Sheldon's office without a lengthy checklist of requirements that everyoine needed to fill out. The fact that the list was never shown to Howard was beside the point. Non-Ph.D losers need not apply, Sheldon asserted.
"Hello, Sheldon!" Howard said cheerfully.
Sheldon looked up from his computer and was taken aback by the visitor. Wasn't it enough that Howard shed the occasional hair on his couch at home? Wasn't it bad enough that he was welcomed within his very apartment, thanks to a notation on the 'Visitors Section' of the Roommate Agreement, because Leonard, inexplicably, liked him? Was there no sanctuary he could escape to in order to avoid the annoying little man without a Ph.D? And why was he so suspiciously happy today? Today was 'Hump Day'; nobody should be happy on Hump Day.
"What do you want?" Sheldon asked, bluntly.
"Oh, I just wanted to visit. Say 'hello'. Show off my new t-shirt."
"I don't care."
"I think you will. Check it out!"
Howard whipped open his windbreaker jacket and exposed a jet-black t-shirt, with a single line of dialogue in white. Sheldon squinted at it, since the letters were squashed together. He read out loud,
"'Hashtag, Bazinga is Klingon for 'loser'?! That's not nice! Is that nice? And by usingmy patent-pending catchphrase 'bazinga'-""
Howard's face broke out into a cross between a big smile and surprise. "Uh-uh-uh-uh! Pay up! You owe me twenty-five bucks!"
"Have you lost your mind? I'm not paying you anything! If anything, you're going to pay me for using my catchphrase word!"
"Oh, I think you are, my friend! Because you just uttered my catchphrase- uh, or rather, my patented catchphrase! I believe that's called copyright infringement! And if you don't want to be sued in small claims court for breaking that law..." Howard teased "Hashtag, Bazinga is Klingon for loser' can't-``
``Whoops! That`s twice, now! Now you owe me fifty smackeroos!``
``It can`t be a copyrighted catchphrase! It includes my catchphrase! You owe me tenty-five dollars! And, anyways, how could you get a patent on that?" Sheldon insisted, his right eyelid beginning to twitch from frustration.
"Oh, I had no trouble getting it pushed through very, very quickly," Howard smirked, smugly. "I have, as luck would have it, a nice little old auntie in the patent office, that I like to call 'Auntie Krantzie', but I think you've already crossed paths with her? She remembers you, after all."
Sheldon cringed and considered his options.
"Shields up," Leonard said, reminding Penny that he felt she was being too flirtatious. When she didn't react, he said it louder. "Shields up!"
Penny turned slowly around at him, confused and disoriented. "Wha-what?" "You know? Shields up." "Leonard...you're being ridiculous. You're strolling into 'insane territory' now." "Am I?" Leonard frowned, unconvinced.
"Uh...YEAH!" Penny snapped, now fully alert. "Considering I was just sleeping!"
Leonard looked around her bedroom, enshrouded in darkness, except for the red LED numbers on her clock radio displaying an emotionless 2:23 AM on them.
"Right. And can't I be just a little on guard for my own emotional wellbeing when I hear my own girlfriend call out in her sleep, 'Oh, Brad Johnny Depp Pitt, this is the best birthday everrrr!'?!"
"And it was the best dream, everrr, until you woke me up, you stupid munchkin! I can't help what I'm dreaming! And now I'm out of The Zone, and I probably won't know how it ends!"
"I can guess!" Leonard frowned.
"And so can I- although it might include me throwing you off the roof of this building!" she snapped, looking at him pout in the dark. "You know what? Fine! Fine- you can flirt, too! Knock yourself out! If you want to even the playing field, go for it! Warp speed! Enjoy!"
"R-really?" he asked, stunned.
"Really! Just let me get back into my dream!"
Leonard smiled as she rolled over and jammed her head back into her mushy pillows.
Well, all right! This is great! he thought to himself, smiling in the dark.
The smile faded as reality set in.
Exactly how did this improve his relationship with her?
Why was he doing this? He really was a doofus, sometimes!
Old man Williams, a Boris Karloff lookalike that lived upstairs on the fifth floor, was slowly descending the stairs next to Penny's door, when he tripped on the last couple of steps, and fell to the floor with a rumbling, bumbling grunt and slap of old-man-against-hard-floor, right in front of Penny's door. Concerned, she swung it open moments later, forgetting that she was wearing a green skincare mask, her hair pulled back into a ponytail with her Winnie The Pooh scrunchie, and wearing an old housecoat and floppy slippers. She gasped as she saw Williams on the floor before her, on his hands and knees.
Across the hallway, Leonard opened his door, too, and just stared with open-mouthed annoyance at the sight. Penny was in her bathrobe, looking like a bit of a mess, and old man Williams was on all fours before her, apparently worshipping the ground she stood on!
"Oh, come on!" Leonard moaned. "Now do you see how nobody can resist your flirtatious side, even looking like that?!"
He slammed his door shut, leaving a confused Penny looking around, wondering what this was all about.
"Uuh...a little help for an old man would be appreciated!" Williams grunted from below.
end.