Digby & Poindexter Vs. Max Weber (part 1)

Scene: Digby and Dexter Poindexter are in a large airey delicatessed/continental supplies shop. Digby has his own, well seasoned in appearance, coffee pot in hand and unscrewed into two parts. He’s looking closely at its broken rubber washer.
He digs it out and tries matching it for size with various sized new washers hanging on hooks on the wall.
Dexter Poindexter, in another area has unhooked a large, long cabana sausage but only has a hold on it at the very bottom. He runs this way and that, trying to keep it balanced and upright — not wanting it to hit the floor.
Digby takes several washers and his own used one to the counter and asks the guy which one is the right size for his coffee pot. The guy looks at the assortment and places the old washer over the others, but like Digby, can’t find a perfect match.
Some come close but no banana.
Digby: I think maybe it shrunk from the heat of use
Guy: Maybe
Digby buys four of the washers that are closest to the original in size.

Scene: Scorpio detective agency head quarters. Dexter sits on the couch, hunched over the coffee table, scanning through newspaper classifieds looking for potential private dick jobs – lost dogs, psychotic sounding messages from one jilty lover to another pleading for reunion, and the like.
Digby, inexplicably, is wearing a from-the-waist-down-only apron and is standing still by the stove, watching/listening to the coffee pot percolate.
Dig: coffee, Dex?
DP: er yes please.
Digby sets down two cups on the kitchen bench and tilts the now finished percolating coffee pot over them. The coffee oozes out. It’s viscous, low on volume and concentrated.
Digby grunts in mild disapproval, milks them and hands one to DP.
Dig: It’s a bit thick.
DP looks down into the cup and swirls it around a little then slugs it down quickly. He goes back to the paper. Digby also drinks his, before using a tea-towel to pull apart the pot to inspect the new, but imperfectly sized washer. He forks it out and sits it near the old broken one. Beside them sit a pile of six new, unused wahsers.

2pm : The pot on the stove, with steam puring out in several places. Digby lifts up the lid to see what’s happening. The steam gets him.
Dig: Phooey!

2:30pm : Pouring more thick black coffee into cups.
[jumpcuts] Cue baba brooks band, ‘guns fever’
– Digby holding up two washers in front of his face, looking back on forth between them.
– DP drinking down a coffee; facial expression of grimace at bitterness, but liking it at the same time.
– Digby spooning more coffee grinds into the pot.
– Digby running to the sink, half-juggling the red-hot pot cradled in a tea-towel. The cold water in the sink hitting it and steam pluming.
– DP drinking another coffee.
– Digby drinking a coffee
– Thick coffee oozing from the pot into cups.

Digby stands at the kitchen bench with the top half of the coffee pot in one hand and a used washer in the other. Dexter stands diagonally behind him watching. We see dusk happening outside the window.
DP: But you’ve already tried that one twice.
There’s a subtle tone of urgency to their voices. They’re both highly focussed in on what they’re doing.
Dig: Yes. However I now believe the previous theories based on contraction were wrong. See! See!
He holds the washer close to DP’s glasses.
Dig: This washer is made out of a different kind of rubber. I think the heat is stretching it — a couple more pots and it’ll have expanded to fit the groove perfectly.
DP: Alright then. But we’re out of bikkies [in a begrudged tone of acceptance].

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