(Joe walks onscreen carrying a large, brightly wrapped package. It is obviously heavy. Methos, spotting him, eyes him curiously and shakes his head disdainfully. Joe sets the box on the floor, glad to be rid of the burden and looks to Methos for some sort of appreciative gesture, which is quite absent.)
METHOS: What’s in the box?
JOE: (gruffly) Happy birthday.
METHOS: What? I don’t even know when my birthday is. I don’t even think I have one….
JOE: Everyone’s got one. Even … you people. Open it.
METHOS: The Watcher Tribunal’s still upset with you for last time.
JOE: I’m willing to let bygones be bygones if you are. Now, open it. (He waves his cane threateningly.)
METHOS: (unfazed by Joe’s threats, he kneels down beside the garishly colored box and delicately peels the paper off, as though a bomb were inside.)
JOE: (grinning like a madman) It won’t bite.
METHOS: How do I know that? I’m unused to … birthday presents. (He finishes unwrapping it, and lifts the top of the box off to reveal a terribly ugly chartreuse sweater. He is speechless with disgust.)
JOE: I’m so glad you like it!!
METHOS: A chartreuse sweater?
JOE: I know. I wasn’t sure if it was your size, but I had Mac help me out with it.
METHOS: A chartreuse sweater?
JOE: Well, Mac thought the ivory one was more becoming on you, but Richie insisted the chartreuse was really more your style.
METHOS: A chartreuse sweater?
JOE: (injured) You don’t like it?
METHOS: Oh … oh, I’m … I’m speechless. Really.
JOE: So you do like it. I’m so glad. You really had me worried for a moment.
METHOS: (nods without a word)
JOE: I have another one coming. Stay right here, I’ll be back in a moment.
METHOS: (Stares at the ceiling with this “why me?” expression)
(Tessa walks onscreen.)
METHOS: WAIT!! WAITAMINUTE! You’re DEAD!!
TESSA: I am, aren’t I? Well, I’ll just take this poor defenseless chartreuse sweater off your hands for you. (She grabs the sweater and walks offstage.)
(A few moments later, Joe comes back, again with a large garish box in his hands.)
JOE: (noticing the sweater’s gone) Where’d it go?
METHOS: Where did what go?
JOE: The sweater!
METHOS: Oh, that. Tessa took it.
JOE: (befuddled) Tessa?
METHOS: Yes. Tessa Noel. She took it.
JOE: Did she.
METHOS: I tried to stop her, but she was simply so enamored with the … lovely color, and the soft fabric, and the –
JOE: Okay, okay, I get the picture. You don’t have to make up some outlandish story, you could’ve just told me you didn’t like it.
METHOS: But I’m not making it up! She really did take it!
JOE: (taking Methos aside, patronizingly) Methos, friend … Tessa Noel’s been dead for years. Now, I know that a lot of your friends have this nasty habit of returning from the grave, but I’m afraid that Tessa isn’t one of them.
METHOS: But she was right here!
JOE: Why don’t you open your next present?
METHOS: Another one? (He sets about unwrapping this one and pulls out a purple skirt.)
JOE: Isn’t it lovely?
METHOS: It’s a skirt!
JOE:(matter-of-factly) It’s a kilt.
METHOS:I’m not Scottish, you twit!! That’s DUNCAN!!
JOE: So? It’s a great color for you. It’ll even go with the … nevermind.
METHOS:(in a fit, throws the “kilt” at Joe’s face and walks away, completely and irrevocably miffed.)
JOE:(peels the “kilt” off his face and examines it) This really is a nice color. Don’t you think?
TESSA: Mr. Dawson, you’re speaking to the audience again.
JOE: Am I? Oh, hello Tessa. (beat) TESSA?
TESSA: (smirks)
curtain falls