Three scientists — Papaia, Banani, and Ravioli — and their assistant Igor, who work at NASAL, begin to show an interest in creationism. Their superiors, concerned, send them to a psychologist, Professor Faggioli — a questionable character determined to get them fired by making them look insane.
We’re in Professor Faggioli’s office, where Ravioli is undergoing an evaluation.
Ravioli recounts the times he used to hide fish in his pockets during corporate dinners. And that one time he discovered a support group called “Anonymous Fish Hiders.”
[Flashback — Interior. A sad room with plastic chairs arranged in a circle. A rusty coffee pot on the table. A hand-drawn sign reads: “Welcome, Anonymous Fish Hiders.”]
[Ravioli sits down shyly. A few people are already there, smiling strangely.]
Moderator (a man with a mustache, wearing a jacket):
“Welcome. We’re all… ehem… ‘former fish hiders’ here.
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…You can just listen… or share if you want.”
[Ravioli nods. The others begin to speak.]
Train Station Master (hoarse voice):
“I was a station master. Used to hide flounders under my uniform cap…
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… Said the smell came from diesel.
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…One time, during an inspection, a flounder slid down my face.”
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[Ravioli’s eyes widen.]
Opera Singer (still in costume, makeup smudged):
“At La Scala premieres, they sometimes served fish. Once I hid a full-sized octopus down my neckline.
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… I kept singing while trying to stop the tentacles from sliding down my dress!”
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[Ravioli covers his mouth to avoid laughing.]
Accountant (looking solemn):
“I know every tax loophole… even aquatic ones.
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… My secretary sometimes brought me fish lunches. But I’d tuck sardines into client tax returns
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…and mail them to the revenue agency.
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…They never found out. I think.”
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[The others nod gravely.]
Another Participant (a man with enormous feet, whispering):
“I… used to put anchovy pizzas in my boots…
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…whole ones.
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…You see, my relatives thought I liked them, but I just…
(He starts to cry softly)
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… I didn’t have the courage to tell them I hated them!
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(wipes his tears with a used tissue)
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… but then again, you just had to walk slowly.”
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[A brief silence. Everyone looks around and nods in understanding.]
[Ravioli suddenly feels… relieved. He’s not an alien anymore. He’s not alone.]
[He closes his eyes and takes a slow breath.]
[Fade out — End of flashback — back to Faggioli’s office.]
Back in Professor Faggioli’s office.
Faggioli (pen frozen midair, puzzled):
Interesting… Very interesting. A real psycho… pischo-pathy of the group.
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[He realizes the slip and coughs awkwardly.]
Faggioli (correcting himself):
…I meant psychopathology, of course. Nothing to do with fish.
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[Ravioli gives him a sidelong glance.]
Faggioli (trying to regain control):
So… tell me, Mr. Ravioli: after that meeting… do you still feel the need to… hide fish?
Ravioli (thinking seriously for a moment):
Yes, yes! Of course I do! But at least I wasn’t alone anymore! And I’d learned new tricks for hiding fish!
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Faggioli: Uhm… did she say a whole octopus… down her neckline?
Ravioli: Yes.
Faggioli: By any chance, was it a polka-dot dress?
Ravioli: I wouldn’t know… she didn’t say…
Faggioli: And a pizza in the shoes.
Ravioli: Exactly.
Faggioli: But… was it wood-fired?
Ravioli: I think so!
Faggioli: Don’t you get it, Ravioli? Wood-fired or electric oven… floral dress or polka-dotted… these are deep, crucial differences!
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Igor: Mental institution or psychiatric hospital? No, Faggioli, there’s not that big of a difference. But either way, it’s important that you go there… as a patient!
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