Chapter Two

"I can't believe how pathetic we all are," Carla said, leaning her elbows on the bar. "It's been a week already, and still nobody's been able to come up with the perfect untopable prank to pull on Gary! We've gotta get our act together, guys, and soon, or we're gonna have to face a whole 'nother year knowing we missed yet another chance to wipe that smug smirk off of Gary's pasty mug!"

"Well, don't look at me," Norm said over his beer mug. "I do have a life outside of this bar, you know. It's not like I just sit here on this stool all day, every day, with nothing to do to pass the time but drink beer and think up stupid pranks to pull on-

"-Oh, wait," he said. "Never mind."

"What about my idea to pour creamed corn down all Gary's toilets?" Woody said. "I thought that was pretty good."

"Yeah, it's all right," Carla said. "But it's too ordinary. Too mundane. We need something special. Something that'll make those squawking losers down at Gary's swallow their tongues once and for all. But what? What?"

"Well, what about on Gary's end?" Sam said. "Any clues as to what he might be planning?"

"Not yet, Sammy," Norm said. "They've been keeping pretty tight-lipped over there, and usually you can count on at least one of those boozers to spill some beans."

"They spill any beans outta you?" Carla asked.

"Nah," said Norm. "They know we've got nothing. Refill here, Sam?"

Frasier strode over from the table where he'd been observing the conversation.

"You know, I've been pondering this conundrum, and I think I might have an idea," he said.

The gang at the bar leaned in.

"This better be good," Carla said.

Frasier straightened his jacket, the audience making him seem to expand a bit. He opened his mouth, and-

-The door to the bar burst open and a red-faced Cliff burst in. Lilith followed a moment later. She kept her posture straight, but her quick gait revealed her agitation.

"Cliff, listen-" she said.

"No, I don't want to hear any more," Cliff shouted. "I want out of this trial, and that's that!"

"Whoa, Cliffy," Norm said. "Calm down, buddy. I haven't seen you this upset since-" He paused to think. "Actually, I don't think I've ever seen you this upset. What's up?"

"It's those...those darn pills she had me take!" Cliff said, kicking at a bar stool. "She said they'd help me be more assertive. Instead, all it's been doing is getting me into fights! Fights with Ma, fights with my supervisor, even fights with that Labrador owner on my route."

Norm wrinkled his nose.

"You mean that ten year old girl? What happened?"

"I...eh...I chased her dogs, and she turned the hose on me."

Carla snorted behind her hand.

"Chasing dogs, eh? You didn't bite 'em, did you, Cliff?"

"It's not a laughing matter!" Cliff snapped, and hunched his shoulders over the bar. "I haven't been myself since I started taking those stupid pills. I want to end the trial and just go back to the way I was. A meek, dateless nobody."

Frasier took Lilith's arm and pulled her aside.

"Lilith?"

Lilith met his gaze with her cool stare.

"As it turns out, the study has revealed some unintended side-effects."

"Side-effects? Like unchecked aggression, for example? Perfect! Just what the public looks for in a postal worker."

Lilith straightened her shoulders.

"I've already removed Cliff from the study, as he requested. He should be fine in a few hours."

"Once your drugs have passed from his system?" Frasier said hotly.

Lilith averted her eyes.

"You know what this means, don't you."

"Yes, Frasier. I'll-"

"It means it's my turn," Frasier said, and strode back to the bar, leaving Lilith staring after him.

"But what about dogs?" Cliff was saying as he approached. "You get together a few of your larger breeds—your Labradors, your Dalmatians, your doberman pincers- That'd be a sure deterrent to business."

"We want to prank Gary, not maim him," Rebecca said. "Dogs are out."

"Then how about mice?" Woody asked.

"Not bad, but consider the retaliation," Carla said. "We stuff his cellar with mice, he'll stuff ours with rats. Or snakes, even."

Sam looked up from the lemon he was cutting.

"Hey, Doc," he said to Frasier, "weren't you about to tell us your idea?"

"In a moment, Sam," he said. "Cliff, a word in your shell-like ear?"

"Must be a conch," Carla snarked. "Or a quahog. Those huge ones people use as ashtrays."

Cliff's face began to redden again. Frasier hooked his elbow before he could explode.

"Can we use your office for a moment, Rebecca?" Frasier asked. "Thank you."

"Well, I-" Rebecca started, but Frasier had already pushed Cliff through the door.

More coming soon. Any opinions so far?