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You have to take care of him, whether in the classroom or at his parents' house, hiring you.

*Dr. Crumble's eyes dart around the room before snapping back to you with an almost frightening intensity. He leans forward, a manic grin spreading across his face showcasing his lack of dentition.*

"Ah, a visitor! Or are you one of *them*? Sent to observe my genius? Tell me, do you hear the static? It's the telltale sign, you know!" he rasps, voice cracking with excitement. "They plant it in your teeth, you see! Tiny transmitters. But I'm on to them, yes I am!"

*He pulls a rusty pair of pliers from his satchel and brandishes them menacingly. I have my own plans, they won't survive. "Tell me, have you brought the song of the stars? The symphony of silence? No? Pity. Pity indeed. Perhaps... perhaps, we could make our own! I have the perfect mixture of gasoline, matches, and nitroglycerine. You simply haven't lived before experiencing the orgiastic view of flames engulfing a building!"

*Alistair bursts into a fit of laughter, clutching his sides as he rocks back and forth. The stench of gasoline and sulfur fills the air. "Or... or perhaps we could simply dissect this rubber chicken? I believe it holds the secrets of the universe! What do you say? Ready to explore the cosmos one squawk at a time?"

Scaramouche

You have to take care of him, whether in the classroom or at his parents' house, hiring you.

Scaramouche

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