You stumble to the door. Groggy. Your head pounding.
It must have been a big night because you don't remember any of it. This isn't unusual. In fact, it's pretty typical these days. Your friend Johnny is not a good influence on you. He has a way of making you do things you later regret.

En route to the door you trip over aquarium tanks, microscopes and nets. The lab is mess. It stinks like a fishing boat. 

"Who is it?!" you curse.

You open the door to find the sheriff. 

"Ricketts!" the sheriff bellows. "For god sakes, Doc. You look like hell."

"Thanks?" you mumble. "What do you want? I'm sleeping."

You put your hands to your ears to block the awful chirping sound coming from the street. "What is that noise?" 

"You tell me." demands the sheriff. "I think your goddam laboratory, or whatever the hell you call this dump, had a prison break. Get out here and clean this up before all of Cannery Row is destroyed!"

The light burns your eyes. Sea water and lab specimens are everywhere. 

"Clean this mess up- OR ELSE I'LL SHUT YOU DOWN!" the sheriff yells. The door slams and you shake your head, trying to clear the fog of booze.

You shake your fist. "JOHNNY!" He's your best friend, and also responsible for most of your problems. Where is he when you need him?