(Suddenly all action freezes on stage. Menacing roll of drums as the distraught Scientist appears. His white coat is disheveled, his hair askew. He is clutching a black box with his arms wrapped protectively around it. The crowd draws back instinctively from him, creating a small open space)
SCIENTIST—Stop! Stop! Enough hilarity. There won't be any World Series this year. Everybody stand right where you are. Don't move. I'll blow you all to kingdom come before I'll let the Orioles win again.
BRAMPSON—(Stepping forward, shirt-tails flapping around his bare legs) Who the hell is this bum? Get this bum oudda here.
SCIENTIST—(Holds up the box. There is an OFF-ON switch on top of it) Don't touch me! One false move and I'll throw this switch. I'll blow up Boog Powell and the whole locker room, too.
BRAMPSON—(Wavering uncertainly) But...why?
BOOG—So he can rule the world, that's why.
BRAMPSON—So go rule the world, fella. But leave the Orioles alone.
(Slowly, the celebrants lower Boog to the floor. They all shuffle around uncertainly)
SCIENTIST—Ah hah. Go ahead, scorn me. But now I'm in control here. Me. Me, the one they all laughed at. But I'll show them. I'll show all of you.
(He cackles madly and reaches for the bomb switch. But Boog puts out one big, hamlike hand and closes it around the Scientist's arm, holding him firm)