[Milo goes in his cabin and lays on the bed, a pair of telescopic eyes looks at him] Mole: You...have disturbed...the dirt.. Milo: Uh, pardon me? Mole: You disturbed the dirt! [Pulls off blanket, exposing clumps of dirt with little European flags] Dirt from around the globe, spanning the centuries! Ack! What have you done?! England must never merge with France! Milo: What's it doing in my bed?! Mole: You ask too many questions! Who are you?! Who sent you?! Speak up! Milo: Me, I'm, uh-- Mole: Bah! I will know soon enough! [Grabs Milo's hand] Milo: Hey, hey, hey! Let go! Mole: Do not be such a crybaby! Hold still! [Mole take a tiny dirt sample from Milo's fingernail with tweezers] Mole: Aha! There you are! Now tell me your story, my little friend... [Looks at dirt with his magnifying goggles] Mole: Parchment fibre from the Nile Delta circa 500 B.C., lead pencil No. 2, paint flecks of a type used in government buildings, you have a cat, short hair Persian, two years old, third in a litter of seven. These are all the microscopic fingerprints of the mapmaker... [licks dirt] and linguist. Milo: Hey, how'd you... Mole: [throws Milo's bags and jacket at him] This is an outrage! You must leave at once! Out-out-out-out-out! [tries to push Milo out of cabin until he runs into Sweet] Sweet: Uh-oh. Sat in the dirt, didn't you? Molière, now what have I told ya about playing nice with the other kids?! [holds up a bar of soap] Get back! I got soap, and I'm not afraid to use it! [Mole hisses at the soap bar and runs to his bed. Sweet whips his towel at him] Back, foul creature! Back into the pit from whence you came! The name's Sweet, Joshua Sweet. Medical officer. Milo: Yeah. Milo Thatch. Sweet: Milo Thatch, you're my three o'clock! [reaches into his back and pulls out a saw] Well, no time like the present. Milo: [stares at the saw] Oh, boy! Sweet: Nice, isn't it? The catalogue says that this little beauty can saw through a femur in 28 seconds. I'm betting I can cut that time in half! [puts the saw away and comes out with a tongue depresser] Now, stick out your tongue and say "Ah"! Milo: Oh, no really, I-- [Sweet puts toungue depresser in his mouth] Ahhgabla! Sweet: So where're you from? [Milo grunts something] Really? I have family up that way! Beautiful country up there! You do any fishing? Milo: Oh...a little... Sweet: Me? I hate fishing, I hate fish, hate the taste, hate the smell and hate all them little bones. [as he speaks he does several things from putting the depresser away to taking Milo's pulse, then finally pulls up two bottles] Here, I'm gonna need you to fill these up. Milo: [spits out thermometer] With what?! Packard: [on PA] Would Milo Thatch please report to the bridge? Milo: Thank you...I mean, nice meeting you. [runs off] Sweet: [watching Milo run off] Uh-huh, nice meeting you too.

Nobody has voted yet.