Narrator: Last time, on Twizzlers for Everyone Forever presents: Death Spares Not the Tiger, an epic radio drama…

SFX: Recap.

Narrator: We join DJ A Fluid Thing in the middle of the night. He awakes, finding himself tied to his bed.

Marie: As you may notice, the electrodes are attached to your nipples.

Fluid: Oh, I actually didn’t notice that. Huh! Wait, who are you? And, why am I tied to my bed? Is this the best kind of dream or the worst kind?

Marie: You see…

Fluid: I guess what I’m asking is do you have a French tickler behind your back or a fire poker? Because if it’s the latter we need a safe word.

Marie: There will be no “safe word” here. You are not safe, and you never will be again.

Fluid: Hmm, I don’t think I can consent to that. Now, for the safe word, I like “pineapple.” It never really comes up during sex, you see.

Marie: Quiet! There will be no sex.

Fluid: Then why did you attach fake electrodes to my…

SFX: ZAP!

Fluid: AAAAAAAAAAGH! PINEAPPLE!!!

Marie: I told you to be quiet, now…

Fluid: But–

SFX: ZAP!

Fluid: HEY!

SFX: ZAP!

Fluid: OW, OW, OW, OW, OW!!!

Marie: Now, listen to me, stupid boy. The Mr Pibb Company knows what you are doing and they aren’t happy. That’s where I come in.

SFX: ZAP!

Fluid: AAAAAAAAAAGH!!!

Marie: If you don’t cease your little investigation into the company’s activities, you will be shocked by a much bigger battery.

Fluid: Why is your company putting mind-controlling subliminal messages into cassette tapes?!

SFX: ZAP!

Fluid: STOP!!!

Marie: That is precisely why I’m telling you to stop looking.

Fluid: Who are you?!

Marie: You may call me Marie Bite-Cul.

Fluid: Wait, your name means–

Marie: Espece de fou, ne te mèle jamais dans les affaires des companies puissantes! (Idiot! Never mess around with powerful companies’ affairs!)

Fluid: Mais, je veux– (But, I want to…)

SFX: ZAP!

Fluid: DÉEEEEEEEEE-couvrer…ugh. (DIIIIIIIII-scover…ugh.)

Marie: Only I may speak in French, monsieur Fluide.

Fluid: Geez, sorry…

Marie: I spare you now, little weakling, out of my own great mercy. But, the next time you meddle with Mr Pibb, it will likely cost you your life.

Fluid: You’ll never get away with this, Marie! If that is your real name!

Marie: We are watching you. If you make any false moves, you’ll be dead less than an hour after the phone rings. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be exiting through your window.

SFX: Fluid’s wall is blown out. (Large Multi-impacts W / Fire / Glass / Metal; Explosion With Glass And Metal)

Fluid: Oh, come on, the door was open! Hey, wait, you forgot to untie me…

Narrator: We now join the Sheila Flicker, First Lady of the Audubon Society, Marty, her bumbling secretary, and Phil Collins, the bumbling drummer slash singer slash somewhat competent human being. They continue their in-depth investigation of the mysterious contract robbing Mr. Collins of all his music and his rights to free speech and to peacefully assemble.

Sheila: So, I think it really is time that we stop eating these delicious sandwiches and begin discussing the terms of your contract.

Marty: But, we have so many…would you care for another turkey club, Phil Collins?

Phil: Well I suppose I’ll indulge in yet something else bad for me…

Sheila: Stop! I have your contract right here, and I really would prefer to not be guilty of light treason. I’ve been looking into what happens when you take away someone’s right to free speech…

Phil: Whatevs, I don’t have anything interesting to say anyway.

SFX: Phil hits Marty with his drumsticks.

Marty: Ow! What was that for?

Phil: That’s how I introduce stories now! I was just thinking about back when I turned seven, you see, back then, we appreciated the cost of milk, we called it Hungarian Horseradish, ‘course only I knew that. Anyway, me and three or fifteen of me chums went down to the rock quarry on the day of me bris. See, we weren’t there to play, oh no, we appreciated the value of a shilling and wanted to put in a good Saturday’s worth of labor. It being a special day, I got to be the mule. To make a long story short, once the smoke cleared I had been hired by the Baron to do his dirty work, if you catch my drift…What was I talking about? Oh right, I hope you don’t miss your foreskin nearly as much as I do.

(Beat.)

Sheila: Wait, you’re Jewish?

Phil: No…why would you ask me that?

Sheila: Well, you said you had a bris. Also, why were you working on Saturday if you’re Jewish?

Phil: I don’t understand the question.

Sheila: Well that doesn’t make any sense, and everything you said only raises further–

SFX: Phil hits Marty with his drumsticks.

Marty: Why do you keep hitting me?!

SFX: Phil hits Marty with his drumsticks.

Phil: I have another story, it’s about how Marty is going to die of blunt force trauma to the head.

Sheila: Point taken. So…uh…your contract. I see that right here it says: b. Delay – With respect to the issuance of any warrant or court order under this section, or any other rule of law, to search for and seize any property or material that constitutes evidence of a criminal offense in violation of the laws of the Audubon Society, any notice required, or that may be required, to be given may be delayed if 1. The court finds reasonable cause to believe that providing immediate notification of the execution of the warrant may have an adverse result (as defined in section 2705), 2. The warrant prohibits the seizure of any tangible property, any wire or electronic communication (as defined in section 2510), or, except as expressly provided in chapter 121, any stored wire or electronic information, except where the court finds reasonable necessity for the seizure; and 3. The warrant provides for the giving of such notice within a reasonable period of its execution, which period may thereafter be extended by the court for good cause shown.

Marty: I fail to see what that has to do with anything.

SFX: Phil hits Marty with his drumsticks.

Phil: What does that mean?

Sheila: Silly goose, it means that if I need to take your stuff, for example, your rights of free speech, your music, or anything else that might aid me in my fight against…uh…your freedom, I don’t need to show you any legal documents.

Phil: Wait, that sounds like some kind of treason.

Sheila: No no no, it’s for our safety. See, right here is why: C. When the Audubon Society is engaged in armed hostilities or has been attacked by a foreign country or foreign nationals, confiscate any property, subject to the jurisdiction of the Audubon Society, of any foreign person, foreign organization, or foreign country that he determines has planned, authorized, aided, or engaged in such hostilities or attacks against the Audubon Society; and all right, title, and interest in any property so confiscated shall vest, when, as, and upon the terms directed by the President, in such agency or person as the President may designate from time to time, and upon such terms and conditions as the President may prescribe, such interest or property shall be held, used, administered, liquidated, sold, or otherwise dealt with in the interest of and for the benefit of the Audubon Society, and such designated agency or person may perform any and all acts incident to the accomplishment or furtherance of these purposes. And–

Phil: Wait, wait, you’re saying that since I’m foreign and I attacked Marty, you as the president can liquidate my property just because you say so?

Sheila: Well, actually, it’s because our PR guy said so. He wrote this contract up.

Phil: But, I wasn’t informed of this!

Sheila: You don’t have to be “informed”, you tacitly agreed to it when you came here.

Phil: Wait, I thought you wanted to get rid of this contract?

Sheila: Oh, right.

SFX: Rips paper, Phil hits Marty with his drumsticks.

Phil: Well now that that’s done with, we need to write up a new contract. So, what song did you say you wanted?

Sheila: Uh, I think we were using… Sussudio.

Phil: All righty then.

SFX: Paper rustle, pencil scratch, paper rustle.

Phil: Here you go! One contract to use me song.

Marty: “This piece of paper guarantees you blokes the right to use me song “Sussudio” for any purpose you like so long as it don’t make me look stupid. Signed Phil Lex Luthor Collins, Vmp.” What does Vmp mean?

Phil: Vampire.

Sheila: Don’t you mean esquire?

SFX: Phil hits Marty with his drumsticks.

Phil: That’s right!

All: *Laugh*

Narrator: Meanwhile, in another part of town…

Fluid: So that concludes the title track from King Crimson’s album In the Court of the Crimson King, I know, I know, it doesn’t make sense, but just roll with it. Next up, we have 20 minutes of livestock, by Zappa. The song is called The Postman Only Firetrucks Twice.

DSNT: Man, a lot of the music we play is crappy.

Fluid: I know, I know, but just roll with it.

DSNT: Why do you keep saying that?

Fluid: I think it’s a side effect of nipple burns.

DSNT: What?

Fluid: What?

(Beat.)

SFX: Phone rings.

DSNT: Thank my unholy makers for the diversion.

SFX: Phone picks up.

DSNT: WOBC.

Caller: Hey, I have a question.

DSNT: Alright.

Caller: I was wondering how babby is formed?

DSNT:…It’s actually interesting that you ask that, because I was just researching it last night. See…well, when a stork and a cabbage love each other very much, they get together and have sex. Then the half-strings of DNA from the stork combine with the half-strings of DNA from the cabbage, and that produces a fetus. The stork takes the fetus, in the dead of the night, and visits a woman and puts the fetus into her uterus, or "baby oven," as the scientific community calls it. There, the fetus grows to a manageable size, about the size of a softball. Then it eats its way out of the woman's stomach and skitters off into the ventilation ducts, where it needs to be hunted down and killed before it can grow to full size. This is usually accomplished by a girl with an under bite, in her underwear. So, yeah…that’s where babies come from.

Caller: Thanks! I’ll get right on that.

SFX: Phone hangs up.

DSNT: What the hell is with these callers? Anyway, so explain to me again why I had to come to your house this morning and untie you?

Fluid: I said I don’t want to talk about it!

DSNT: I’m just saying, you could have warned me that you would be naked.

Fluid: I was tied up! And you only noticed that I needed untying because you were stealing my bagels and were checking my room for peanut butter!

DSNT: The real question is why you had peanut butter in your bedroom.

Fluid: No it isn’t! The real question is why you were stealing from me! How often do you do that?

DSNT: I’m pretty sure bestiality trumps larceny.

SFX: Phone rings. Phone picks up.

DSNT: WOBC 91.5.

Caller: Hi, I was wondering if you knew the number for a radio station in Lorain?

DSNT: …Why would I know that?

Caller: If it helps, it’s a Hispanic station.

DSNT: How does that help? Given that it’s a Hispanic station, I wouldn’t be able to communicate with the other DJs at the Bi-monthly Lorain County DJ Conferences that never effing happen because that would be deranged.

Caller: Oh, ok, thanks!

SFX: Phone hangs up.

DSNT: What the hell was that?! Why would I know the number of another radio station?!

Fluid: Wait? What did they want to know?

DSNT: If I knew the number for a radio station in Lorain.

Fluid: What a strange question…

DSNT: It’s a Hispanic station if that helps!

Fluid: Of course…that must be what Marie was talking about. Quick, use our handy dandy DJ Number Tracey Address Thingy!

DSNT: You mean caller ID?

Fluid: It’s a good thing we went to orientation!

SFX: Machine noises.

DSNT: I have an address…it’s at 306 Malefactor Drive.

Fluid: Grab you balaclava! We’re off to see the wizard!

DSNT: Wait, why are we going there?

Fluid: So we won’t be dead within an hour!

DSNT: This sounds a lot like meetings I have with my therapist.

Fluid: This station isn’t safe! I was told I’d be dead within an hour of the phone ringing!

DSNT: That doesn’t make any sense

Fluid: A crazy French woman broke into my room last night, put electrodes on my nipples and then left through the window when I had a perfectly serviceable door open! Also she threatened to kill me! And besides, a Chinese fortune-teller once told me that a woman with nipple electrodes never lies, so–

DSNT: Yeah, I didn’t know how to bring this up earlier, but your nipples are smoking.

Fluid: Oh, that’s what that is….

DSNT: I’ll agree to skip out on work for a while, I’ll just queue up the song Thick as a Brick to play twice, that’ll grant us at least a couple of days.

Fluid: All right, and I’ll rig up RoboDJ to play some PSA’s while we’re gone!

(Beat.)

Both: *Loud laughter*

Fluid: Oh man, that was good.

SFX: Door opening, footsteps.

Station Manager: Where the hell do you two think you’re going?!

Fluid: We’re off to see the wiz- I mean, we’re going to do some…market research into another station in the area. See, we got a phone call about a Hispanic station in Lorain, so we figured we should meet them.

Station Manager: I don’t think so. Everyone knows there isn’t a Hispanic station within 1000 miles of Ohio. At least not since…

SFX: Flashback. Loud Latin music.

Station Manager: No, Jaun, no! If you play the music that loud all the radio stations in the state will…

SFX: Explosion. De-flashback.

Station Manager: Juan…my lost love.

DSNT: Well, I don’t know anything about that, kind of like how I didn’t know their goddamn phone number, which, incidentally is what the caller wanted to know. Is it possible for us to send spiders over the phone? That would be great.

Station Manager: …So I don’t think hiring people through the Reformed Felon Program is such a good idea anymore.

DSNT: Not the point.

Fluid: We’re just interested, it’s professional curiosity.

Station Manager: THIS IS AMATEUR RADIO!

Narrator: Clearly.

Station Manager: There are rules about leaving the station while broadcasting. Namely rules about how you can’t do it!

DSNT: See, I anticipated that you would say that, which is why I’m ten steps ahead of you. See, I queued up the song Thick as a Brick to play twice, which, as you know, is nineteen hours long! Plus, we rigged up RoboDJ to turn the music levels down twice an hour and read PSAs.

Fluid: No we didn’t.

SFX: DSNT slaps him.

Fluid: Oh right, I did that.

Station Manager: What if someone calls?

DNST: Yeah, I’ve had four calls today. Two were requests for sexual favors from Ronald Augustine, one was asking “how is babby formed” and the fourth was the one I told you about before. So, yeah, I don’t think it’s going to matter.

Station Manager: If you’ve gotten that many calls in the past two hours, don’t you think you’ll get more?

DSNT: I think those sort of people are better off not knowing how “babby” is formed.

Fluid: If it means anything, I taught RoboDJ how to love. Over the phone.

Station Manager: Dear god, I’ve been trying to do that for years! You’re a miracle worker, how did you do it?!

Fluid: With this smoke bomb! Ha ha ha!

SFX: Smoke bomb.

Station Manager: *Coughs* Where did you go?! You’ll never get away with this!

Narrator: Our intrepid DJs now venture to the mysterious station on Malefactor Drive. It looms over them like a loom. You know, the kind you use for weaving cloth.

Fluid: Wow, that’s a really imposing radio station.

DSNT: Yeah, I don’t understand the gargoyles.

Fluid: Well, let’s enter through this 12 foot wooden door.

SFX: Door opening.

Fluid: Wow, look at all these chandeliers!

SFX: They are hit in the heads with a heavy object.

Both: OW!

SFX: They fall to the ground.

Rachel Carson: Mwahaha! Now we have these pesky DJs captive. Quick, take them to the Mr Pibb factory….

SFX: Squealing tires.

Narrator: Our intrepid DJs wake up in an ancient gothic cathedral which has been outfitted to bottle Mr Pibb.

Fluid: Oh god…my head…where am I?

Rachel Carson: It is interesting that you should ask, you see, If the Bill of Rights contains no guarantee that a citizen shall be secure against lethal poisons distributed either by private individuals or by public officials, it is surely only because our forefathers, despite their considerable wisdom and foresight, could conceive of no such problem.

DSNT: You sell soda, what the hell are you talking about?

Rachel Carson: Don’t back-talk me, lowly DJ. I am Rachel Carson, the greatest environmentalist of all time!

Fluid: Wait, I thought you were dead.

Rachel: Well clearly I’m not.

DSNT: Wait, no, you died in the mid 1960s, if Wikipedia is to be believed. And you led a very important early struggle for environmentalism, not to mention the fact that your widespread scientific and public fame was important to the feminist community. You’re clearly an imposter, and that’s just awful.

Rachel: I faked my own death! That legacy was not befitting to my real glory.

DSNT: Now, that’s just offensive. I have a great deal of respect for Rachel Carson, and I will not stand for this.

Rachel: I am Rachel Carson!

Fluid: No! I am Rachel Carson!

Rachel and DSNT: …What?

Fluid: Oh, sorry, I got caught up in the moment there.

SFX: Rachel slaps him.

Fluid: Why does everyone keep slapping me?!

Rachel: The why isn’t important, only the how.

Fluid: …You mean with your hand?

Rachel: No, you fool! You see, there is still very limited public awareness of the nature of the great threat to the world. This is an era of specialists, each of whom sees his own problem and is unaware of or intolerant of the larger frame into which it fits. It is also an era dominated by industry, in which the right to make a dollar at whatever cost is seldom challenged!

Fluid: What threat, what are you talking about?!

DSNT: I would still, if I may, like to point out the irony of our location in a factory that makes and bottles soda in light of your recent belching of verbal sludge.

Rachel: Excuse me?

DSNT: Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re not Rachel Carson at all, you’re clearly…CRAB PEOPLE!!!

SFX: Rachel slaps him.

DSNT: Thanks, I needed that.

Rachel: Now, we need to get down to business, and show my conspiring cohorts exactly what to do with interlopers like you…

Narrator: Meanwhile, in Non-Sequituria, Toshi is regaling a client with his tales of past whore-ery…

Toshi: So then I said “Rectum…I darn near killed ‘em!

Prospector: Hee haw hee haw!

Toshi: And that’s how I, Toshi, became a whore.

Prospector: Well that’s a mighty fine story there, partner. I have a proposition here for ya. What say we go back to that there wooden hut with a moon on the door and I make you feel like a real man!

Toshi: Well, I suppose I have five minutes.

Prospecter: Yee-haw! I only have seventy-three cents on me, though.

Toshi: That’s ok, I’ve killed men for less. I have to say, I am a bit wary of you maybe having crabs though.

Prospector: I’d be more worried about coyotes if I was yeh!

Toshi: What?

SFX: Squelch.

Narrator: Six minutes later…

Toshi: Ohhhhh…my ass!

Prospector: There’s gold in them there hills!

Toshi: Why…why would you say something like that?

Prospector: I reckon what I mean to say is that you’ve got one fine ass there, sonny. And it’s filled with gold! Gold! Yeehaw, yippie! Gold! Gold! Gold!

SFX: Skipping away. His voice fades out as he bounces into the distance.

Tokyo Joe: Well, did you get the money?

Toshi: I always do. Here’s the ten cents.

Tokyo Joe: Good, and your penny back! At this rate, you’ll be able to buy us a new establishment. I’m thinking we should expand our business, see. Right now, we just have the whorehouse and the phone sex line, but I want to buy a cruise ship. We could call it…Tsunami of Love!

Toshi: Well, I believe I may be able to help you there.

Tokyo Joe: Oh? How?

Toshi: Let’s just say…there’s gold in them there hills.

SFX: Laugh track.

Narrator: We go now to the King of Scotland. A majestic man, standing seven feet tall with a beard made of what must be diamond, who bats aside the people in his way as if they were ants, and who can tear through a woman’s heart as if it were made of fine tissue paper. Sean Connery is truly the greatest of the great. He is joined by none other than Sean Connery.

Connery 1: What are you doing, here, man?! Are you mad?! Only one of us can go to the big meeting. There can be only one Sean Connery!

Connery 2: And, quite frankly, sir, you are not the right one. That title clearly goes to me, the best Sean Connery.

Connery 1: Ha ha! How foolish you are, Mr. Connery. I am the one, the only, the greatest Sean Connery, and I will attend the big meeting!

Connery 2: But you’re not the only Sean Connery, Mr. Connery! And, you’re standing next to the proof of that!

Connery 1: No matter, I can easily dispatch of you and retain my Sean Connery-ry.

Connery 3: You’re both daft if you think you’re the best Sean Conneries! That title is mine.

Connery 1: Madness!

Connery 2: Suck it, third Sean Connery, the first and second are much better than you. The second, however, IE me, is the best.

Connery 1: While I say the first quite easily trumps the second, we can agree that the first and second trump the third no contest! One of us will be attending the meeting, no doubt.

Connery 3: You’ll regret saying that, my good Mr. Conneries. This Connery plans to show you just what it means to be Thunderballed!

Connery 1: Have at you, Connery 3!

Connery 2: No, Connery 1! This is madness!

Connery 1: This is not madness…this is–

Connery 4: I can’t let you do that, Conneries 1 and 2!

Connery 3: Aha, Connery 4, come to save the day! Where were you and what took you so long?

Connery 4: I was out procuring the world’s finest scotch, which I have right here.

Connery 3: Hmm, how wonderful for us both! Let’s each take a swig for luck before besting these two idiotic Conneristic whelps.

SFX: Pouring Scotch and toasting.

Connery 4: Excellent Scotch, isn’t it?

Connery 3: And how! Are you headed to the meeting?

Connery 4: No, no, I think that’d be a job for you, Connery 3.

Connery 2: Now listen, Conneries 3 and 4, this has gone far enough! You can’t just waltz in here and drink your scotch without an invitation from the first two Conneries!

Connery 1: Yes indeed! I demand an explanation as to why there are so many of me, and why they want to go to the meeting!

Connery 3: Why would you need an explanation for something like that?

Connery 4: I think the first Connery is a bit daft, don’t you?

Connery 3: Yes, indeed he is. Definitely not meeting material, that one.

Connery 1: Don’t make me angry, you God-forsaken Conneries, or I’ll…

Connery 2: Get a hold of yourself man! The only real answer to any conflict is the peaceful one!

Connery 1: Bull! Have at you!

SFX: He draws his sword.

Connery 3: I’ll take care of this, 4.

SFX: He draws his sword, as well. They fight. 3 is stabbed.

Connery 3: Ah! You bastard, you’ve slain me!

Connery 1: There can only be one!

Connery 2: You’re mad! Mad, Sean!

SFX: 1 stabs 2.

Connery 2: You madman, I’m slain, as well!

Connery 4: Oh, my God. Well, I’m taking my scotch and getting the hell out of here.

SFX: He runs away.

Connery 1: Ha ha! My day has come. I am the prime Connery! Now, off to the meeting.

Narrator: We now join the beautiful genius Dr. Erica Dyer and the suave Dr. Flavor Fresh in the lab. Dr. Dyer has just finished investigating the multitudes of cassette tapes and other dead recording formats given to her by A Fluid Thing and DSNT.

Erica: Dr. Flavor Fresh, come here, quickly!

Flavor Fresh: I never come quickly. But for you, of course.

Erica: I think I’ve just figured out what’s going on with all these recording formats and I want a second opinion to make sure I’m right before I call A Fluid Thing and DSNT with the news.

Flavor Fresh: I can give you a second opinion on…several things.

Erica: Thank you. Now look at these cassette tapes.

Flavor Fresh: I’ll look at more than just the cassette tapes.

Erica: Right, look at the VHSes, as well. You can see that there’s a marking on all their ribbons that looks just like a bird foot.

Flavor Fresh: You know that birds like to jive.

Erica: That’s right. And, if you look at the laserdiscs and HD-DVDs, under microscope, you can see the exact same symbol. The weird thing was, the symbol’s shape wouldn’t need to be like that for a subliminal message. They seemed to be there decoratively. So, I called the National Audubon Society to ask them what bird foot the markings most resembled so I could maybe figure out why they were imprinted.

Flavor Fresh: Go on, sweet thang.

Erica: The person on the phone was very unhelpful.

SFX: Flashback.

Erica: Hello, National Audubon Society?

Marty: That’s me! Er – us!

Erica: Can I speak to your chief ornithologist?

Marty: Sure…uh…let’s see…I’ll transfer you.

SFX: Elevator music.

Joker: Hello?

Erica: I sent you an image earlier of a marking I’ve been finding on lots of dead recording formats. Did you have a chance to look at it?

Joker: Mmmmmmmaybe.

Erica: Great. Can you tell me what bird it most looks like?

Joker: It looks to me like a canary. A dead canary. Which is what you’ll be if you ever call here again.

Erica: Excuse me?!

Joker: Later toots!

SFX: Phone hangs up.

Joker: *Laughs maniacally*

SFX: De-flashback.

Flavor Fresh: Sounds like he wasn’t very funky.

Erica: I was suspicious, so I looked into the Audubon Society’s records. It turns out it was them who recalled all the dead formats and reissued them to stores and outlets with subliminal messages. I cross-referenced that with a background check of the higher-ups in the Mr Pibb Company, and I think I’ve figured out why the bird feet are on the tapes.

Flavor Fresh: You’re sexy when you investigate.

Erica: The reason the Mr Pibb Company used the Audubon Society to recall the tapes was because Carl Flicker, the society’s president, had recently funded the creation of a new kind of printing press with letters shaped like different bird feet. The specific foot they imprinted with subliminal messages was a Blue-footed Booby.

Flavor Fresh: Speaking of boobies, hubba hubba Dr. Dyer.

Erica: I read up on the Blue-footed Booby and found out they’re a very religiously significant animal in several occult traditions.

Flavor Fresh: Is that one of the religions where you have sex on the satanic altar and then sacrifice the male? Because we could go undercover. My covers.

Erica: I think the symbols are there for much more than decoration…do you follow me?

Flavor Fresh: I’ll follow you all day. Looking at your booty, of course.

Erica: Good. We have to go warn A Fluid Thing and DSNT.

Flavor Fresh: We’ll use my car.

Erica: Why are you unzipping your pants?

Narrator: Momentarily, a majestic and marvelous meeting of the most meticulously malicious, malevolent, melodramatic, and mischievous meddlers.

Carl: So we’ve called this meeting to discuss our next courses of action. Roll call! Beverly Busson, first female commissioner of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?

Beverly: Yeah, I’m here, don’tcha know.

Carl: Rachel Carson? … Rachel Carson? Rachel, you here? Hmm, has anyone seen Rachel?

All: *General disagreement*

Carl: All right, all right, she’ll get here. Let’s see…Sean Connery, King of Scotland?

Sean: I’m here, you idiot.

Carl: Carl Flicker, President of the Audubon Society? Oh, well, that’s me! Let’s see…Kermit T. Frog, Puppetmaster Extrordinaire?

Kermit: Kermit T. Frog here.

Carl: Amelia Earhart, Mistress of the Seas?

Amelia: What?!

Carl: Amelia Earhart, Mistress of the Seas!

Amelia: Oh, here! Sorry about that! I think there’s water in my ears!

Carl: Elizabeth II, Queen of England?

Elizabeth: That’s Queen Elizabeth, Queen of England to you!

Carl: Uh, right, uh…sorry…uh…Bill O’Limbaugh?

Bill: You know I’m here, I’m sittin’ right next to you!

Carl: Right, right. Martha Stewart, Chief of Cleanliness?

Martha: That’s me! Today, we’ll be making doilies out of…

Carl: Later, Martha, later. Well, since our other Co-Chair, Rachel Carson, isn’t here yet, I guess I’ll run this meeting solo for now. Our first order of business is the item we tabled last week after two hours of disagreement: Our group name. Uh, Amelia, do you have the minutes on you?

Amelia: What?!

Carl: The minutes, Amelia!

Amelia: Oh! Yeah, I do! Uh…we disagreed on whether we should be the “National Centrist Front” or the “National Front of Centrists.” We–

Bill: Now see here, I’m the ranking member of this conspiracy, and I demand we be called the National Front of Centrists! More of a ring to it, I think.

Sean: Silence, Mr. O’Limbaugh, let the woman speak.

Bill: Shut up!

Sean: Yer lookin’ a cyclone right in the eye if you want to talk to me like that, boy.

Martha: Enough! Now killing or no killing, it’s probably time that we discuss how we can make this meeting place more pleasing to the eye. I suggest a nice centerpiece made from pinecones and dried cranberries.

Carl: Oh, come on, can we let Amelia finish, please?!

(Silence.)

Amelia: There were four votes for National Centrist Front, four for National Front of Centrists and one abstention.

Kermit: Nobody liked my motion to call us the Green Party!

Elizabeth: That’s because it’s a bloody stupid name and they already exist.

Kermit: It’s not easy being Green.

Martha: You know, what we really need is a good centerpiece for our table. It’ll help us think. I happen to know how to–

Sean: Dammit, Martha Stewart, quit Martha Stewarting!

Kermit: Would anyone like to change their vote to the Green party?

Carl: Be quiet, everyone! Rachel voted to call us the National Centrist Front, and since it seems Kermit continues to abstain we have an odd number of people voting. So, let’s just vote again and let it be done.

Kermit: I vote for the Green Party.

Carl: Quiet, you.

Bill: NFC. Only way to go.

Beverly: NCF, I say. It’s got a better ring to it don’tcha know.

Bill: It does not! It’s that kind of left-wing nonsense that–

Beverly: Now wait a sec, Bill, how dare you call me left-wing when you know we’re all moderates here! Shame on you.

Bill: You seem left-wing to me, you Canadian–

Carl: Come, now, you two, we know there’s nobody more moderate among us than Beverly.

Bill: Pshaw, Bev voted Obama for sure!

Elisabeth: Beverly is a Canadian, you idiot!

Martha: Bill, didn’t you vote Obama?

Bill: I did not!…Well…I did…that isn’t the point! See–

Amelia: Wait, did you just say you voted Obama?!

Bill: Okay, okay, yes! I did! But–

Amelia: How could you vote for a primary party in an election and call yourself a Centrist?!

Bill: He’s very…central!

Carl: Now, now, people–

Kermit: Now wait a gosh darn minute, Amelia, you made fun of me for voting Cynthia McKinney! She was in a third party!

Amelia: The Green Party! They’re staunch leftists!

Bill: All right, who did you vote for, then, flygirl?!

Amelia: I’m legally dead, I can’t vote!

Elisabeth: Really, you Americans just don’t seem to understand voting!

Beverly: Now, now, Queen Lizzie, you Brits don’t even vote! You have a queen for gosh’s sake!

Elisabeth: We have a Prime Minister!

Beverly: Not quite as good as having a President, though…

Elisabeth: You have a Prime Minister, you daft canuck!

Beverly: Hey, hey, hey, hey, he’s much better than yours, Mrs. I’m-the-Last-Actually-Powerful-Western-Monarch!

Sean: Hey, wait a second. I’m the King of Scotland and I’m much better than Queen Elisabeth. I’ll chop her head off right now!

Bill: Why did we let non-Americans join, again?!

Carl: Now, Bill, it’s not at all Centrist to be xenophobic, and you know we’re trying to create a worldwide Centrist presence!

Martha: Now that you mention it, I have a lot of great recipes for low-calorie food from around the world. Why don’t we adjourn early and make some?

Bill: That’s what we did last week! And, you know I hate that…whaddya call it…

Martha: I told you, Bill, lamb tikka masala is an acquired taste. You should really try it again before–

Carl: This is just pandemonium!

SFX: The door breaks down.

All: *General shock*

Joker: Ha, ha, ha, ha, hoo hoo. Ha ha. Hoo hoo hee hee hoo. Ha ha. And, I thought my jokes were bad.

Sean: That doesn’t even make any sense.

Carl: Who are you?!

Joker: Don’t you remember? I’m your society’s PR guy.

Carl: Oh, right! I forgot. Nice to see you, mister, uh…

Joker: Joker. Now, shut up! I present to you…Rachel Carson, CEO of the Mr Pibb Company and Senior Chair of the National Centrist Front.

Carl: Wait a sec, I thought we were co-chairs!

SFX: Footsteps into the room.

Bill: Now wait a sec, we didn’t get to vote on the name!

Rachel: Oh, quiet O’Limbaugh. You know the charter says I can veto any vote, anyway.

Amelia: Wait, wait, there’s nothing in the minutes about you having a veto…

Rachel: Oh, you won’t find it in the minutes because I amended the charter myself. Which also won’t be in the minutes.

Amelia: You can’t do that!

Rachel: Actually, I can. That should technically be in the minutes from last October. Remember how you assigned me to do a bit of restructuring of the organization’s weekly meeting format to make sure we actually got things done? Well, I took it into my hands to give the senior co-chair a veto to keep things running. And, since I can veto any vote, I also gave myself the power to cast the tiebreaking vote.

Elisabeth: Does anyone know how voting works?! There wasn’t a tie this time! You were absent!

Beverly: Well, actually, we haven’t finished voting yet, don’tcha know...

Kermit: I already voted Green!

Bill: I think it’s pretty obvious we’re all going to vote the same, so there’s still a tie.

Rachel: So, as I said, I get to cast the tiebreaking vote.

Sean: You already voted, man! Is everyone here going crazy?

Rachel: Since I was absent for the beginning of the re-vote, my last vote is automatically entered the same by proxy and since I’m here now and haven’t voted again, I can still cast the tiebreaking vote. Our lovely secretary, Ms. Earhart, can verify all that for you if you have any doubts.

Amelia: Uh…wait…

SFX: Papers shuffling.

Amelia: Okay, she’s right.

Carl: That doesn’t seem very fair!

Rachel: But, look! We have a name now! We’re The National Centrist Front. Now we can move onto coming up with a plan, something we’ve neglected to do in almost thirteen months of being in existence.

Carl: Well, I guess that’s an upside to having a veto-er on the board.

Rachel: I’m glad you just officially verbally validated my actions as Co-Chair of the board in an official meeting!

Carl: What?

Amelia: What?!

Sean: In the butt.

(Beat.)

All except Sean: What?

Sean: What? I like butts.

Rachel: Yes, we all know you do, Sean. Especially Bev.

Bill: Ha ha! She’s a woman, so she’s a sex object.

Sean: And this is why you’re still a virgin, Bill.

Beverly: Now, wait a minute, we Canadians don’t swing towards the Scots.

Sean: That’s not what you said last night. In bed with me.

Elisabeth: Now, Sean, you know that was my mother.

Sean: Yes, yes. Her, too.

Beverly: Now wait just a moose-ridin’ minute, Sean–

Rachel: We’re getting beside the point! Our next order of business is to decide our course of action to propagate Centrist values throughout the world. Again, since our board can’t seem to make a decision, I’ve taken matters into my own hands.

Carl: Well, how’s that?

Rachel: Carl, you may or may have noticed that the contract Phil Collins recently signed with your company to license the rights to his song Sussudio actually took the rights to all of his songs and his personal rights to free speech and to peacefully assemble. Since he no longer had any control over his music, its production, or its re-recording, I used Kermit’s entertainment industry connections to recall all his cassette tapes and reissue them with imprinted subliminal messages urging listeners to drink Mr Pibb. It was only a short step to take to recall all the world’s cassette tapes, VHS tapes, laserdiscs, and HD-DVDs and imprint them with the same subliminal messages. Granted, we couldn’t recall CDs, DVDs, Blu-Rays, vinyl, or digital downloads, but the former formats have enough of an audience to propagate the message to drink Mr Pibb.

Carl: Now, wait just a sec, Rachel, we talked about that plan a while ago, but the subliminal messages were to be things like…well…“Be friendly,” or, “Listen to your colleagues’ opinions,” or, “Vote your conscience.” You know, Centrist things. Why “Drink Mr Pibb?” It seems to me like you’re using our influence to increase your company’s sales.

Rachel: Well, of course we’ll need to boost my sales a bit, Carl. It’ll give our National Centrist Front enough funds to complete phase two of our master plan!

Carl: If you had just put the original messages on the tapes, there wouldn’t need to be a phase two!

Rachel: Just you all wait and see…I’m sure you’ll be…enthralled…with the results! *Evil laughter*

(The next three lines are over Rachel’s laughter, which quiets down.)

Beverly: I’m a bit uncomfortable with this, don’tcha know.

Elisabeth: Rachel’s scaring me out o’ me knickers. And I don’t even wear knickers!

Martha: I get a bad feng shuei from her. Maybe it’s that dark red blouse paired with the chainmail girdle. I recommend we set it off with a nice potpourri made from buffalo hair.

Carl: All right, all right, Rachel, would you care to clue us in on what phase two is?

Rachel: In due time, Carl, in due time. But, first…Joker, bring out the prisoners and their torture device.

Joker: Yes ma’am.

SFX: Wheeling out a large contraption. Bubbling lava.

Fluid: Ugh, my head hurts where am I?

DSNT: Ah…damn that hurts. Oh, look, A Fluid Thing! We’re suspended over a vat of chocolate!

Rachel: That isn’t just any chocolate…it’s molten chocolate! It probably won’t kill you, but it’ll leave a nice glaze. And then we’ll kill you!

Fluid: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Bill: This glowing hot chocolate reminds me of the time Ronald Reagan unveiled his tax plan. I mean, uh, I’m a Centrist, right.

Amelia: Hmm, the residual heat of that molten chocolate seems to have evaporated the water in my ears. Finally! Wait, wait, wait. Why is there a vat of molten chocolate here, and why are there two guys suspended over it and being slowly lowered into it?

Rachel: I’m glad you asked. These two interlopers have been snooping into our plans and threatening their execution. I have decided to eliminate them.

Carl: That’s not a very Centrist–

Rachel: Oh, cut it with the “what’s Centrist” crap, Carl, and watch the show.

Carl: I don’t think we should be killing two innocent–

SFX: The wall explodes.

Marie: Stop right there, Rachel Carson!

Rachel: Marie?! What is the meaning of this?!

Marie: You know quite well what is the meaning of this. I infiltrated your company to stop your evil plans and have been keeping close watch over these DJs to make sure they can find out the truth and reveal it to the public over the radio!

Fluid: Wait, wait, wait, I thought you worked for the Mr. Pibb company and came to torture me to stop me from investigating.

Marie: Au contraire, Monsieur Fluide. I knew my torture would only make your efforts stronger.

Fluid: My nipples are still smoking!

Marie: Not the point! Quick, we must escape!

SFX: Explosion, he bubbling liquid going all over.

Rachel: Ah, the chocolate is everywhere!

Sean: It’s burning my Thunderballs! Fortunately, I can lick them off.

Martha: There’s not enough club soda in the state to get all this chocolate out of my clothing!

Amelia: This chocolate is at least twice as bad as that time I drowned in the ocean!

Elisabeth: The chocolate burns so much!

Bill: Shut up, you queen!

Carl: Oh, well, this is just ridiculous!

Marie: Come with me, DJs!

DSNT: What the hell is going on?!

Marie: I will explain when we’re safe.

SFX: The three run away.

Beverly: Where’s my mountie squadron when I need them? We stopped this same kind of problem in Ottawa back in ’83.

Carl: Can we all please, please have order! We need to clean up this chocolate and finish the meeting.

Rachel: Meeting over! We’ll meet again next week. Joker, get a cleaning crew in here, and have someone fix the wall.

Joker: D’you want me to kill the cleaning crew when they’re done so we don’t have to pay ‘em?

Rachel: Sure, whatever.

Narrator: So, our DJs have escaped unscathed and Rachel Carson’s plan to kill them has been foiled. But, what is phase two of the Centrists’ plot? Will Phil Collins, Shiela and Marty regain control of the Audubon Society? Will Dr. Dyer and Dr. Flavor Fresh find our DJs in time to reveal the terrible truth to them? Is there really gold in Toshi’s them there hills? Is it really butter?! Find out all this and more next week…on Twizzlers for Everyone Forever presents Death Spares Not the Tiger…an epic radio drama! Next time…breakthrough!

Erica: DSNT, Fluid! The symbols on the tape mean…

Narrator: Shock!

Marie: Rachel Carson’s real plans are…

Narrator: Despair!

Fluid: NOOOOOOOOO!!!

Narrator: Drama!

Shiela: That’s it, Carl, I want a divorce! And I’m taking the Fig Newtons!

Carl: Hey, wait, those Newtons are delicious! I mean…uh…our marriage is still strong!

Narrator: Danger!

Sean: Babies. The world’s most dangerous prey.

Narrator: More despair!

DSNT: NOOOOOOOOO!!!

Narrator: Suspense!

Station Manager: Okay, that’s it. You’re both fired. For real.

Narrator: Unnecessary roughness!

Clerk: I’M STILL IN HELL!!!

Narrator: Respect for your elders!

Elisabeth: I don’t like change.

Narrator: Pain!

Toshi: It burns!

Narrator: Greater pain!

Flavor Fresh: She kicked me right in the balls.

Narrator: Genius!

Phil: I know! I’ll write about me divorce!

Narrator: Pure evil!

Rachel: *More evil laughter*

Narrator: And excitement!

Marty: Ooh, another penny!

Narrator: All this and more…next Saturday at 2PM on WOBC 91.5!

All: Ron loves Twizzlers!