Night. A log cabin. The pine trees are pointy white cones; maybe it’s snow, maybe they’re racists.
Bacon staggers up to the door of the cabin, Eggs begrudgingly approaches from inside. Those are very common names in Germany.
Bacon: Knock knock.
Eggs: I don’t like knock knock jokes.
Bacon: This isn’t a knock knock joke.
Eggs: Then why did you say ‘knock knock’ instead of knocking?
Bacon: Wolves bit off my hands. They’re still out here somewhere. You have to let me in before they bite off the rest of me.
Eggs: I’m sort of busy.
Bacon: I’m sort of being hunted by wolves!
Eggs: Have you heard the story of the boy who cried wolf?
Bacon: You mean the one where the boy is eaten by a wolf? Because they don’t believe him?
Eggs: Imagine how much time they’d have saved if they hadn’t believed him the first time.
Bacon: You can hear them howling right now.
Eggs: That could be anything.
Bacon: Name one other animal that howls.
Eggs: Howler monkeys.
Bacon: You think the night is full of howler monkeys and I bit off my own hands just so I could tell you a knock knock joke?
Eggs: It’s a working hypothesis that fits all the available data.
Bacon: I can see them. They’ve found me.
Eggs: The howler monkeys?
Bacon: The wolves! Please, you have to let me in!
Eggs: I’m just not feeling very sociable today. Work was stressful and I had to stay late and really I just want to have a bath.
Bacon: One of them has my leg!
Eggs: Fine, I’ll open the door, but you’re to sit quietly until dawn and I’m not making you breakfast.
Eggs opens the door. There is only a head left on the doorstep. Wolves drag the rest of the body away in pieces.
Bacon: Orange you glad you didn’t say banana?!