"What's this?" Simon asks, holdin up his shiny knife thingy. "Scalpel," I say, grinnin like a monkey. "I 'member from last time." "This?" "Stethascope." "This?" "Mic-re-scope." "Microscope," Simon says, setting in down. "I should at least get one arm for mispronounciation." "I pronounce everything mis," I say, taking one arm out of my coveralls anyways. I reach into mys tool box for my turn. "What's this?" "Wrench." "What kind of wrench?" "Monkey wrench." I grin. "No tie cause ya di'nant know whats kind." Simon takes off his tie, laying it on the examing table. He holds up another shiny metal thing. "Tricep!" "This?" "Clamps." "-Clamp-," he says. "No 's'...other sleeve." I shimmy my coveralls to my waist. "There. Happy?" "I will be after you get a few more wrong." "I gots -lots- of nuts and bolts to trick ya with," I say, holdin up one. "Lug nut." "An this?" "Screw bit." "This un?" "Polynucleardynamic thruster coil." "You're too good, Simon." He smiles. "I've been studying. River found an old manual in one of the crawl spaces and has been quizing me." "I thought the point a the game was to lose....I don got your mem'ry, Simon. I'll be standin here buck nekked for you even have yer vest off." "My plan exactly," he says, rustlin round his doct'rin stuff. "New rules...when I get one wrong, I'll take off two articles of clothing." "Vest and shirt--no shoes," I counter. "How's bout we both takes off our shoes now to not cheat wif shoes bein clothes?" "Agreed," Simon says, taking off his shoes and socks. I do the same--pulling off my work boots and stuffin my socks inside. "Still your turn," he says. I hold up my next object. "Know what this is, Mr. I-Read-Books-For-Fun?" He squints at it, chewing his bottom lip for saying "converter spark?" "Na-uh! It's a double spring, trans'dinental three and three quarters converter spark." I grin. "SO diff'rent from yer regular, run a mill converter spark." Simon sighs. "Shirt and vest, right?" "Right!" I do a happy dance, clappin an chantin "shirt and vest! shirt and vest!" "You have to do the same for your next miss," he says. "Coveralls and shirt." "Maybe I won't miss." He holds up sum'tin that kinda looks like an ice pick so I guess that. Simon grins, shaking his head. "Surgical needle. Coveralls and shirt." "Fine," I sigh. "Rules are rules...."