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Season 3, Episode 8: Wherein DSNT Completely Fails to Hit It Off With Station Manager

from Twyzzlers for Everyone Forever presents: Death Spares Not the Tiger, an epic radio Drama by Ben Ferber, Donald McEwan

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about

Vera sets DSNT up on a blind date with his unrequited love, Station Manager. Meanwhile, Don Qui-Ho-Te continues to subject Fluid to tortuous tests of wits. In Washington DC, Roger rounds up the senior members of the Presidential Cabinet and convinces them to put on a production of Hamlet. Finally, Phil Collins faces the legal battle of his lifetime.

lyrics

Objectionable Content: Gay pornography, racketeering, political bias, change you can believe in, wine, murder, excessive violence, divorce, misogyny, racism, and social awkwardness.

Narrator. We rejoin the story at the lair of the US Secretary of Agriculture, Roger Woodruff. He is a sexy man, though you wouldn’t know it now because he is covered entirely in exams. Wine-soaked exams. Let’s watch.

Roger. (Snores. Starts up.) Ah-I swear I don’t know where any of the ink capsules from those pens went!

(Beat.)

Roger. Oh, it was just a bad dream. Well, I guess I’d better make my bed. Strange, my sheets aren’t usually red, wet, and covered with paper. What am I, Jimmy Hoffa?

SFX. Phone rings.

Roger. Oh, cripes.

SFX. Roger picks the phone up.

Roger. Hello?

Racketeer. Roger Woodruff?

Roger. Why, yes, how did you get this number?

Racketeer. You’re in the phone book.

Roger. But, the Secretary of Agriculture is much too important to be in a phone book!

Racketeer. You keep telling yourself that.

Roger. Who, may I ask, is speaking?

Racketeer. You know who, don’t you recognize my stereotypical mobster voice?

Roger. Wait…I’m trying to place it…Hillary Clinton?

Racketeer. No! Can’t you hear I’m wearing suspenders? Nyah! Nyah!

Roger. Oh, you’re that guy from Yellowstone National Park! Why would you be calling at…let’s see…uh, 4 p.m. in the morning?

Racketeer. I’m in Montana, nyah. It’s several hours earlier here.

Roger. Wait! You found a way to alter time?! I’M SPEAKING TO YOU FROM THE FUTURE?!

Racketeer. No…time zones…I…listen, I’m calling because you owe us big bucks, see?

Roger. We already allocated our department’s budget for the year, you got your share.

Racketeer. No, see, this is about the, er, protection money.

Roger. Excuse me?

Racketeer. Environmental protection money. Now, you’d better pay your four million up by the end of the week or it’ll be your head.

SFX. Phone hangs up.

Roger. My job is a lot more complicated that I was originally led to believe. I thought the Secretary of Agriculture was the professional bean-grower for the President. Perhaps weeding the White House garden. Now, what’s all this stuff on my bed about…what is this…“choric dithyrambs?” Is that some sort of…vegetable? My friend Wikipedia will have the answer!

Narrator. The next day, Roger awakes to find his bedchamber strewn with masks. Having a background primarily concerned with farming, he is unfamiliar with masks. This befuddles him. Let’s watch.

Roger. Oh god, what did I do last night? What are all these masks!? I haven’t had to brown bag in years, due to my position. This troubles me. Secretary!

SFX. Buzz, footsteps.

Secretary. Yes sir?

Roger. What did I do last night?

Secretary. Let me check your schedule…you were scheduled for sleep.

Roger. Well it doesn’t look like I did a whole lot of sleeping, now does it?

Secretary. I don’t know sir. You have a meeting with the president in forty five minutes.

Roger. Fetch my overalls!

Secretary. Certainly.

Roger. I’m not sure what this all means. Perhaps I should read up on masks.

Secretary. Sir, your bed is strewn with Xeroxed excerpts from books about Greek tragedy.

Roger. It is?

Secretary. Yes. Here are your overalls.

Roger. Well I’ll be darned. I should try reading one of these things.

Secretary. Very good sir, I’ll ready the car.

Roger. I never was much of a tragedian. Should I bring one for president Earhart?

Secretary. The last time someone tried to teach her something, she ate them hoping their raw brains would provide knowledge.

Roger. How in god’s name did she get elected?!

Secretary. I don’t know sir, something about a change.

Roger. I heard it was a book of recipes

Secretary. Either way. I’ll ready the horses.

Roger. Very good. I’ll read these.

SFX. Footsteps.

Roger. According to this, Greek tragedy used masks to free the actors so that they could portray emotions that were too traumatic to be acted by a person in any way other than hysterical! Fascinating!

(Beat.)

Roger. Fascinating!

(Beat.)

Roger. My god, if the things in these handouts were read to an audience over a means of mass-communication, the sheer rush of knowledge would explode their minds! It’s a good thing no one does that! We’ll have to classify these as deadly weapons! Secretary!

SFX. Footsteps.

Secretary. Yes, sir?

Roger. Call the department of…guns.

Secretary. That doesn’t exist, sir.

Roger. Make it so.

Secretary. Very good, sir. To what end?

Roger. These mask things need to be quarantined!

Secretary. I don’t believe that’s the expression.

Roger. You heard me! Quarantine them!

Secretary. (Sighs.) Alright.

SFX. Footsteps, door open, things fall on ground, door close.

Roger. Do you happen to know what happened to my formal overalls?

Secretary. You never had formal overalls, sir, that is not a real object.

Roger. I mean the ones with the bow tie.

Secretary. Oh…that…it’s at the cleaners.

Roger. Well I’ll need another pair. The president might take offense to me wearing these wine-stained overalls.

Secretary. I’ll alert your personal shopper.

Roger. Excellent, excellent. These Xeroxes are really fascinating, you should take a look!

Secretary. Perhaps later.

Roger. Did you just throw those masks in my closet?

Secretary. What closet?

Roger. The door over there. Behind the curtain.

Secretary. That isn’t a door.

Roger. Oh…I was pretty sure–

Secretary. It isn’t sir. Pay no attention to the door behind the curtain.

Roger. Well now that I’m dressed, let’s take the horses over to the white house for my meeting.

Secretary. Very good, sir.

Roger. Oh, by the way, is four million dollars a lot of money?

Secretary. I’m not sure, given you pay me in potatoes.

Roger. Well, they’re in season!

Narrator. Meanwhile, in The Feve, the local psychopath slash waiter Don Qu-Ho-Te has taken A Fluid Thing prisoner and chained him to a table until he purchases the special. They are competing in a game of wits for Fluid’s freedom.

Fluid. Okay, well, what now? You beat me at questions, so what?

Don. Now…THE PHYSICAL CHALLENGE!!!

Fluid. Oh, come on!

Don. What?

Fluid. You’ve chained me to a table! I can barely move!

Don. So?

Fluid. So…

Don. You’ll probably lose!

Fluid. EXACTLY! That’s unfair!

Don. I’ve chained you to a table and am subjecting you to torturous mind games and you want me to be fair?

Fluid. If I could part my arms, this would be the point at which I did so and said “I HATE YOU THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS MUCH!!!”

Don. I like hugging, too!

SFX. Chains rattling.

Don. Aww!

Fluid. If you hug me and I don’t hug you back, that’s hug-rape.

Don. Aww!

Fluid. This is physically challenging, all right.

Don. I’ll physically challenge you!

SFX. Sword draws.

Don. En garde!

Fluid. I CAN’T MOVE AND WHERE DID YOU GET THAT SWORD?!

Don. And now! The apple contest! Where we stab apples! So, you throw the apple at me and I’ll try to stab it in midair!

Fluid. I can’t move!

Don. That’s no excuse! You’re failing that part of the challenge! Now it’s your turn! Here you go!

SFX. Sword clang.

Fluid. Hey, don’t throw that at me! You could’ve seriously injured–

SFX. Many thumps.

Fluid. OW! HEY! STOP!

Don. That’s the taste of defeat! And apples! Mmm! Apples!

Narrator. Back in Roger’s bed…

Roger. What a lovely nap! Oh, no! There’s more wine in my bed…wait, it looks something’s written here: “Important note to myself: there is an outstanding loophole in census law whereby characters in fair-use plays can be counted as actual people for the purpose of a census.” Huh. Wait, there’s a wine trail in the shape of an arrow from the sheets to my chest.

(Beat.)

Hmm. My body seems to have been tattooed. Smells like wine instead of ink…I should probably get that removed, it could get very infected. It reads…“Eight people die in Hamlet and there are eight people above you in the line of presidential succession.” Hmm, that’s an odd coincidence. Why would someone write that in wine on my chest? Wait, there’s an arrow pointing to my back.

SFX: Footsteps.

Roger. It’s even written backwards for my convenience in using a mirror: “You idiot, do a production of Hamlet with the eight people above you in succession and take life insurance policies out on the characters. When they’re all dead collect the insurance money and take power over the nation.” Why would someone write that?! And, look, another arrow! Pointing to the back of my head. Well, let me just get this razor…

SFX. Electric razor.

Roger. It reads: “Oh, come on, it’s to get the four million dollars in protection money you owe the racketeer from Yellowstone Park.” Oh, well, that’s a great idea! I wonder who came up with it.

Narrator. Back in The Feve, Don has set up another challenge for Fluid.

Don. And now that we’ve completed the applesauce challenge, we’ll do the limerick challenge!

Fluid. That wasn’t a challenge, you just ate applesauce.

Don. Like you’re about to eat a burger?

Fluid. I’m not eating anything you give me.

Don. Then it’s time to go through the limerick challenge. There once was a man from Nantucket. Whose–

SFX. Many censor bleeps.

Don. (Bleep.) (Bleep.) was (Bleep.) (Bleep.) and (Bleep.) (Bleep.) The caddy was (Bleep.) and his mother (Bleep.) (Bleep.) (Bleep.) (Bleep.) (Bleep.) (Bleep.) condom said (Bleep.) it.

Fluid. I’m sure glad we’re not broadcasting on the radio right now…

Don. I got to say naughty words! Your turn.

(Fluid takes in a large breath.)

SFX. One long bleep.

Don. That wasn’t a limerick. You just described me with a bunch of words I’m not sure exist. You have to do a limerick.

Fluid. Oh, right. Well, what’s brown and sticky?

(Beat.)

Fluid. A stick!

(Beat.)

Don. You don’t know what a limerick is, do you?

Fluid. Some kind of fish? Right?

Don. Repeat after me: There once was a Jew from Verona.

Fluid. That’s two completely different plays!

Don. I’m gonna go ahead and say you lose this challenge.

Fluid. Only on account of misinformation! I blame this nation’s public school system! And the EPA! And–

Don. Will you just buy the burger?

Fluid. Hell no!

Don. Then I’ll have to prepare for the next challenge!

Fluid. This is all pointless, isn’t it?

Don. Not if you buy my hamburger! Then my family can eat this week!

Fluid. Your wife divorced you, and I’m not people who’re four inches tall can have children.

Don. I’m not four inches tall!

Fluid. I’ve been meaning to ask: are you a gingerbread man or something? And, how do you avoid getting stepped on?

Don. This is a very sensitive issue that I’d prefer not talking about with my prisoner! Stockholm syndrome has not set in yet!

SFX. Footsteps, door slam.

Fluid. Stupid gnome…thing…

Narrator. We venture now to the WOBC 91.5 station, where DSNT is finishing up the first half of his music show. Vera Boinsley, his co-DJ for their weekly advice show, For Want of a Fail, has just arrived to do the rest of his show for him.

SFX. The Whirlwind fades down, plays under this scene.

DSNT. We go now to the Transatlantic epic, The Whirlwind. It’s a wonderful album that I’ve lucky enough to have had the opportunity to talk to one of the performers about. Let’s listen to it first and then we’ll play some excerpts from that interview.

(Beat.)

DSNT. It’s really boring here without Fluid. Too bad he’s been missing for a day. I imagine he’s being tortured in the most horrifying ways imaginable.

(Beat.)

DSNT. I sure do hate those Italians! They’re…lazy…

(Beat.)

DSNT. (Sighs.) Being comically racist just isn’t fun without someone to yell at you about it.

SFX. Door. Footsteps.

DSNT. Thar she blows!

Vera. Hello.

DSNT. Thanks for showing up Vera. How do I look?

Vera. You’re decked out marvelously, darling.

DSNT. Thank you. You’re sporting an especially hot rack today.

SFX. Slap.

DSNT. Oh right, gotta tone that down.

Vera. You sure do.

DSNT. Other than that, though, do you have any advice about your friend?

Vera. She’ll probably like you. It’s been a while since she’s had a date, though, so try not to act crazy. She has very high standards.

DSNT. Why would you set me up with someone who has high standards?

Vera. Well who knows, maybe she’ll like you anyway.

DSNT. Fair enough. It’s not like I’ve had a lot of other opportunities.

Vera. So you need to be careful how you come across.

DSNT. Well what else should I do?

Vera. Naturally, you should get her chair when she comes in. You should always show up before your date.

DSNT. Of course.

Vera. Say everything as if you’re wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Women love Hawaii!

DSNT. I can see that.

Vera. If she has an interesting story, make sure to tell her an even more interesting story.

DSNT. Okay…

Vera. Make sure you get in a lot of face time.

DSNT. What’s that?

Vera. Lean in and make sure your face is close to her. Women need faces to really stimulate them during conversation.

DSNT. Wait, really?

Vera. Scientific fact! Women need faces. Also, make sure to not stare at her breasts for too long. DSNT. Stop staring at my breasts. DSNT.

DSNT. Hold on a sec.

Vera. DSNT!

DSNT. No, this is important.

Vera. Stop–

DSNT. Found it!

Vera. What?

DSNT. I found Waldo. On your shirt.

Vera. Oh! I get it. I forgot I was wearing that shirt.

DSNT. Actually, I drew Waldo on your left breast while you weren’t paying attention. But, whatever you say.

(Beat.)

DSNT. I’m going to go on my date now.

Vera. See you later.

DSNT. Thanks for the advice.

SFX. Footsteps, door close.

Vera. DSNT? Are you gone?

(Beat.)

Vera. Perfect! All right, hello, Lorain County, this is Vera Boinsley, your new host for the hour! Now, you may not enjoy the music you’re hearing right now, so instead I’ll play you some Maroon 5!

SFX. This Love. (Cue audience choking. Derp.)

Vera. This is “This Love” from their album…uh…I dunno, they play it a lot. Now, I’d also like to make an exciting announcement! I’m going to be interviewing President Amelia Earhart on air! Tomorrow! Now, I haven’t exactly…well…gotten her to agree to it, or gotten a specific showtime, but I’ll be working on it.

SFX. Maroon 5 gets louder, then fades. Phone dials, rings, picks up.

Operator. Hello?

Vera. Operator! Put me through to the President!

(Beat.)

SFX. Phone hangs up.

Vera. Dammit. Too forward, I guess.

SFX. Phone dials, rings, picks up.

Operator 2. Hello?

Vera. May I speak to the President of the United States, please?

Operator 2. Uh…this is Subway.

Vera. Oh. Then, can I have a sandwich?

Operator. You’d have to come in for that, we don’t do deliveries.

SFX. Phone hangs up.

Vera. Okay, third time’s a charm.

SFX. Phone dials, rings, picks up.

Amelia. President Earhart speaking!

Vera. Oh, great!

Narrator. Meanwhile, at Black River Cafe, DSNT has arrived and sat down in preparation for his hot date! But, little does he know that Vera set him up with none other than his object of affection, Station Manager!

Station Manager. My name is Mora!

Narrator. Poppycock!

SFX. Restaurant.

DSNT. Okay, what was Vera’s advice again?

(Vera speaks again, in a spooky spectral DSNT-is-recalling-what-she-said voice.)

Vera. You should get her chair when she comes in.

DSNT. Right, right. Thanks, Vera.

SFX. Footsteps.

Station Manager. Wait, DSNT? You’re alone…you’re not here for–

SFX. Chair skids, crash, frantic footsteps, chair pulls out.

DSNT. Your chair, madam.

Station Manager. Oh, uh, thanks?

SFX. They both sit down.

Station Manager. Vera set us both up, didn’t she?

DSNT. Yes, she did! On a bliiiiiind date.

Station Manager. That’s not exactly what I meant…

DSNT. Well, what I said isn’t exactly what…I meant.

Station Manager. What?

DSNT. Uh…what do I say now, Vera?

Vera. Say everything as if you’re wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Women love Hawaii!

DSNT. Oh, right! Hey, Station Manager! Do you like Hawaii? Because I like Uranus.

Station Manager. My name is Mora and what?!

DSNT. The planet. I’m an amateur astronomer.

Station Manager. Oh. Well, my name’s still Mora.

DSNT. Sorry, Station Manager. So, how was your day?

Station Manager. (Sighs.) Well, it was alright. Interesting at least.

DSNT. Oh?

Station Manager. Yeah. Well, I woke up this morning and realized I only had one sock on. I went to sleep with two, so I figured it got lost in the sheets. But, then I looked and it wasn’t really there. So, I went to my laundry bin and it wasn’t there either. So, I looked in the washing machines and didn’t find my sock, but I did find a pair of pants I had left out to dry. It was pretty cool because there was a five dollar bill in the pocket. I dunno, do you think that’s cool?

(DSNT says the next few lines over part of this.)

DSNT. Damn, this sure is an interesting story. What was Vera’s advice about stories?

Vera. If she has an interesting story, make sure to tell her an even more interesting story.

DSNT. Right, right. But, what do I tell her?

Station Manager. Are you listening?

DSNT. Oh, of course! But, I have a much more interesting story. So, I was reading Scientific Croatian the other day. Since Croatia really sucks and their scientists don’t really have any money, they’re searching for ways to relieve stress. They found out the best way to relieve stress is to make me a sandwich. So, that’s a good idea for when you move into my house. Well, that and you getting a tongue-stud.

Station Manager. I feel filled entirely with detached disgust.

DSNT. I think Pepto fixes that, no problem. That’s why I always bring a gallon of it on dates.

SFX. Water pouring.

DSNT. Now, I know we haven’t gotten cups yet since the service here is terrible, so you can just drink it right out of my crotch.

(Beat.)

DSNT. It could also be that you’re hungry. Hey, waiter!

Station Manager. You know, they’ll come–

DSNT. Nonsense! Waiter!

SFX. Footsteps.

Waiter. Can I help you?

DSNT. Give me one…filet mignon. On the rocks.

(Beat.)

Waiter. Rare, then. And for you, ma’am?

Station Manager. I’ll have the shrimp.

Waiter. Very good. Would you like fries with that?

(Beat.)

Station Manager. (Quickly, embarassed.) Yes, please.

Waiter. Of course, ma’am. Your water should be arriving within the next twenty minutes.

SFX. Footsteps.

DSNT. I wonder what to do now…

Vera. Women need faces.

DSNT. What?

Vera. Women need faces!

DSNT. What was that supposed to mean, again?

Vera. I’m only a product of your memory. I don’t know!

DSNT. Dammit!

Station Manager. Um, who have you been talking to?

DSNT. Huhwha?

Station Manager. I mean, I didn’t want to ask since it’s fairly normal for you to act weird.

DSNT. Oh, I’m asking my memory of Vera’s advice to me for advice.

(Beat.)

Station Manager. Oh.

DSNT. I wonder what she’d advise now…

Vera. Women need faces!

DSNT. No!

Vera. Dental plan!

DSNT. That was a sickening Simpsons reference.

Station Manager. Okay, it was kind of funny at first, but I really just don’t know what you’re–

DSNT. Wait, what was that she said about breasts?

Station Manager. Excuse me?

Vera. Make sure to not stare at her breasts for too long.

DSNT. But, what’s the right length of time to stare at them?!

Station Manager. WHAT?!

DSNT. I MEAN I SWEAR I’M NOT CRAZY!

Station Manager. Oh for God’s–

DSNT. As I said, the best cure for frustration is making me a sandwich. There’s even a kitchen here! I bet you could–

Station Manager. I’m going to go to the bathroom.

DSNT. Make sure to take your pants off first, then!

(Beat.)

Station Manager. Was that supposed to be a joke?

DSNT. No, I host an advice show.

SFX. Footsteps away.

DSNT. Well, that went well.

Narrator. While Station Manager pees, let’s check back on Vera in the station.

SFX. Song fades out.

Vera. That was the latest song in my new show. The Maroon 5 Power Hour. This is DJ Vera Boinsley and I’m here to bring you all Maroon 5 all the time. Next up…uh, I actually don’t know any of their song’s names.

SFX. Song fades in, fades out to be quiet under scene. Phone rings, picks up.

Vera. Hello?

Station Manager. Vera, I’d just like you to know that I’m going to murder you so hard the next time I see you.

Vera. Oh my God, were you listening to the radio just now? Listen, I’m so sorry I played Maroon 5, but–

Station Manager. He’s a monster!

Vera. Oh, DSNT. Sorry to hear that.

Station Manager. Sometimes I think he’s just trying to be funny, but then he goes way too far, and–

Vera. My advice to you, as the official host of an advice show, is to smile and nod. He’s not such a bad guy, and you’re getting up there. It might be time to settle.

Station Manager. I’m twenty.

Vera. Still, give him a chance.

Station Manager. But, all he does is talk about offensive things!

Vera. So, interrupt him! Men love it when you do that. Just keep talking until he decides it’s not worth it to talk ever again.

Station Manager. I guess I could give that a shot…

Vera. I knew you’d come around. Now, I’ve got a brief meeting, so I have to go, but tell me how the rest of the date goes.

Station Manager. Sure.

SFX. Phone hangs up.

Vera. She should be here any–

SFX. Amelia teleports in.

Vera. –minute. Hello!

Amelia. Hello! I hope you can excuse me being so rude on the phone, I just highly prefer face-to-face conversation. Now, what can I do for you?

Vera. Well, President Earhart, you haven’t done any interviews in your presidency so far…

Amelia. That’s a rather specific fact for you to know.

Vera. I used to work for the government.

Amelia. Oh, fantastic!

Narrator. Meanwhile, back at Black River Cafe, Station Manager feels a tingle in her nose.

Station Manager. I feel a strange disturbance in the force…as if millions of small voices cried out, and were suddenly silenced.

DSNT. You know, Pepto cures–

SFX. Chair slide, crash, running away.

DSNT. So, I’ll see you back home!

Narrator. And, back in the station…

Amelia. Sure! I’d love to do an interview with you. What time is your show tomorrow?

Vera. That’s the problem…I’m not sure.

SFX. Paper rustle.

Amelia. Is this the schedule? It says tomorrow’s 6 p.m. show is hosted by Zach O’Toole…

Vera. Oh, he’s a hipster. He has a god-awful noise music show.

Amelia. He’s dead now!

Vera. What?!

Narrator. Meanwhile, in the O’Toole residence…

Zach. OH HELL MAN! MAJOR INDIGESTION!!! NOT BROOLICIOUS!!!

SFX. Explosion.

Narrator. And, back in the station…

Amelia. You know those rumors that I’m a dark sorceress?

Vera. Uh, yes?

Amelia. All true!

Vera. Oh. Interesting?

Amelia. I’ll see you tomorrow at 6, then!

SFX. Door breaks.

Station Manager. Stop right there, criminal scum!

SFX. Amelia teleports out.

Station Manager. Vera, who was that and why did they teleport away?!

Vera. That, Mora, was President Amelia Earhart!

Station Manager. Don’t you realize?!

Vera. Realize what?

Station Manager. You’ve invited pure evil into our station!

Vera. Right, and I’m interviewing her!

Station Manager. I–you–when is she coming?

Vera. Well, she wanted to come tomorrow at 6, so she killed Zach and gave me his timeslot.

Station Manager. Good riddance, but still…

Vera. If it’s any consolation it was going to be a pretty tough interview. I worked for her, remember!

Station Manager. Oh, right, you worked for the CIA or something?

Vera. Yes…

Station Manager. I must prepare.

Vera. For what?

Station Manager. The final battle!

Vera. Excuse me?

Station Manager. Find me a broadsword, rhubarb juice, and a slightly-used copy of the Necronomicon.

Vera. I couldn’t find any of those things if–slightly used?

Station Manager. Save some money.

Vera. I’m not doing any of that.

Station Manager. Oh. Well, then, I’ll have to go practice my wrestling skills.

Vera. Erica’s actually around here, she just–

Station Manager. We already had an appointment.

(Beat.)

Vera. Are you a lesb–

Station Manager. WHAT I DO WITH ERICA IN THE STATION’S BABY-OIL FILLED KIDDIE POOL IS MY BUSINESS!!!

(Beat.)

SFX. Song fades out.

Vera. Well, Lorain County, that’s all the Maroon 5 I’m legally allowed to play for you tonight. Tune in tomorrow at 6 p.m. for my big Amelia Earhart interview.

SFX. Click. Static.

Station Manager. You just turned off the transmitter? What about the next show?

Vera. Uh, it was Zach’s other show. And, he hadn’t shown up anyway.

Station Manager. Oh. Well, uh…I’ll take it.

SFX. Click. Static ends.

Station Manager. This is the Station Manager, Mora Harris, speaking, and we’ve got an impromptu show on our hands! Next up is “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Afterwards, I’ll be playing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” at twice the speed. After that? Who knows?

SFX. The Battle Hymn of the Republic.

Vera. That’s, uh…a great show concept.

Station Manager. I need to be alone.

Vera. Oh…uh…I accept and endorse your sexuality!

SFX. Footsteps, door close.

Station Manager. Now, let me think back to that prophecy from my rebellious teenage years…

SFX. Flashback.

Wise Guru. You’re going to kill your father and marry your mother.

SFX. De-flashback.

Station Manager. Wait, that was a different prophecy. That I already fulfilled. In Canada.

SFX. Flashback.

Wise Guru. Eh, something about you, I dunno, fighting someone.

Station Manager. That’s stupid! You’re stupid, dad.

SFX. Gunshots.

Wise Guru. What the hell?! Call a hospital!

Station Manager. And, then what, marry my mother? You and your stupid prophecies.

SFX. De-flashback.

Station Manager. Ah, my rebellious Canadian teenagery.

SFX. Fade out Battle Hymn of the Republic.

Narrator. Meanwhile, back at the Hall of Justice…err…Supreme Court building, Roger is having a meeting with the entire line of presidential succession above him.

Roger. You can just call me “Machina.” “Deus Ex Machina.”

Joe. What?

Roger. As everyone knows, President Earhart is going to be interviewed tomorrow night on the radio. As per the “Silly Butt” law passed last Wednesday, people on WOBC are legally dead. Therefore, we’ll be in charge rather than President Earhart.

Joe. Actually, I’ll be in charge…since I’m the Vice President.

Roger. Quiet, you. Let’s do a roll call, since it’s the easiest way for us to all get acquainted with each other.

Joe. We have meetings every day.

Roger. Shut up, Joe. So we’ll go in order of succession. First, Joe Biden, is Joe Biden here?

Joe. Yes. You’ve been talking to me.

Roger. A simple yes, here, or present will do. Next, Speaker of the House.

Nancy. Yes, I’m…never gonna give you up, never gonna–

Joe. That wasn’t even funny the first time, Nancy.

Nancy. Was so! It really connected with the youth. Remember the part with the cats? Best YouTube video EVER.

Roger. Quiet! Next we have President Pro Tempore of the Senate, or as I like to say the PresPro, Glen Beck.

Glenn. GET OFF MY PHONE. (Higher.) GET OFF MY PHOOOOOOOOONE!!!

Roger. Uh…right, right. Next we have Secretary of State, HilDog

HilDog. My name is Hillary, and it’s that sort of disrespect that the nation has for women in general that prevented me from getting the presidency.

Roger. Right, right, either that or that you’re crazy.

JFK. Remember, uh, that I won, that err, uh, race. I won the presidency but then traded to to, uh, Amelia Earhart for a book of, er, uh, Chinese recipes. But then they were for, uh, Chinese people, because she’s a, uh, cannibal.

Roger. Right, next up Secretary of Treasury, John F. Kennedy

JFK. See, I tried to catch some, err uh Chinese people, but uh I couldn’t because er, uh, my upper class background doesn’t teach me how to, uh, set traps. And after Teddy tried to kill all those hookers and we covered it up, the Kennedys weren’t allowed to, err, uh, own guns.

Roger. Fascinating. Next, we have Secretary of Defense, Chuck Mangione.

Chuck. (Revile that turns into Feels So Good.)

Roger. Why can’t anyone just say “here?!” Next up, we have the Attorney General, Janet Reno.

Janet. RENO SMASH!!!

Roger. Finally, we have the Secretary of the Interior, Strom Thurmond.

Strom. Well, Roger, it’s obvious that the problem is that created by the ne–

Roger. Stop right there. I can’t let you do that, Strom-Fox.

Strom. What?

Roger. I don’t know, the tattoo on my left arm told me to say that.

Joe. The what?

Roger. I believe it was written at a very late hour. I have reason to believe that I’m a were-professor.

Joe. That isn’t a thing.

HilDog. And that would mean a man-professor. What would you call a WOMAN who’s a professor? Are you saying women can’t be professors? Or presidents?

Roger. Well that’s not exactly wh–

HilDog. WHY CAN’T I BE PRESIDENT?!

SFX. Door crashes.

Sarah. Did I hear that a woman was going to be president?

Joe. You were running for vice president, Sarah.

Sarah. Well I thought it might be a runner up prize.

Roger. Why are you here?

Sarah. I’ve come to be the president!

HilDog. No! I get to be president before you!

Glenn. GET OFF MY PRESIDENCY!

Roger. Look, Glenn, there’s a communist over there! In the corner! Of Nebraska.

SFX. Scurry.

Glenn. MUST KILL THE COMMUNIST.

Roger. Well that should take care of that.

Sarah. I can see the Amish right from my house, yah.

Roger. That sounds like a wonderful qualification for PresPro! Congratulation, Sarah, you’re president pro tempore now!

Sarah. Ooh, I had the best pro tempore last night at the Japanese restaurant near my house.

Strom. This woman is even stupider than the other women!

JFK. I find that, err, uhh, women are only good for one thing.

Chuck. (Wolf whistle.)

JFK. You said it Chuck. Now seeing as how this is a senior cabinet meeting, I move that we spend the rest of our budget on hookers and blow.

Chuck. (Sine wave that becomes quick, happy Feels So Good.)

Strom. Strom Thurmond supports this.

Janet. JANET RENO LIKES HOOKERS.

HilDog. If I were tyrannical dictator, I would have crushed those jerks at Waco. I should have your job. Or the presidency. Preferably the presidency.

Roger. Now maybe we should get back to my proposal.

HilDog. I SHOULD BE PRESIDENT.

Roger. Be that as it may, that’s not why we’re here. While we have control of the government tomorrow, we must do something fantastic. As you know, President Earhart has been using her satanic powers to keep us from doing things she doesn’t like. Once she’s occupied, it’s our only chance to do whatever we want!

JFK. Hooray! Time for hookers and, err, uhh, blow.

Roger. Close, John, close.

Nancy. I think we should make videos of our cats.

Roger. We’re not doing that. We’re doing a production of Hamlet.

(Beat.)

All. Why?

Roger. To make millions of dollars to pay off my debt!

All. WHAT?!

Roger. I mean, uh…social change!

(Beat.)

Joe. Go on…

Roger. We’re going to use this production of Hamlet to–

HilDog. This is an anti-feminist play!

Roger. No, it’s not.

HilDog. I’m not going to be in it!

Roger. You can be Gertrude!

HilDog. Oh, I like Gertrude. Someone killed her husband. I can identify with that.

(Beat.)

Chuck. (Sleighride [high to low pitch].)

Nancy. Do any of the characters do nothing of interest throughout the entire play?

Roger. No, see, Nancy, when playing a character you have to do things differently from the way you do them normally!

Nancy. Ooh, then can I commit suicide?

Roger. Ophelia it is! Now, I think Mr. Thurmond should be Hamlet because–

Strom. I refuse that part on account of the fact that Mr. Reno and I want to be Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Janet. RENO LIKES THE PLAYS OF TOM STOPPARD.

Roger. Well, that’s not exactly…Mr. Reno?

JFK. I’ve been meaning to ask. Is she, er, uh, a woman? If so, bangable. If not, maybe.

Hillary. Angry feminist comment!

Joe. You didn’t say anything, Hillary, you…you described something you might say.

Hillary. You’re on thin ice, Biden.

JFK. I’d like to be the king of this play, if that’s possible.

Roger. You can’t be the king of a play, really…you’re confusing city/states or countries with concepts! But, you can be King Hamlet, if you’d like.

JFK. Score.

Roger. That just leaves Hamlet, Polonius and Claudius. Now, who feels they’re the strongest actor here?

Joe. Well, I have eight years of Shakespearian training. If that helps.

Roger. All right, then Chuck will be Hamlet!

Chuck. (Something loud. [Hold third valve half down with left hand. Play an E and press first and second valves down alternatively.])

Roger. Oh, but that’s just perfect for Polonius’ death! Never mind, then. Well, then, I guess Sarah Palin here will be Hamlet.

Sarah. But, I’d much rather play a role that accentuates my being a hockey mom.

Roger. Claudius it is! And, that makes Hamlet…

Joe. I’LL PLAY HAMLET. JESUS.

Roger. I guess they do say it’s acceptable to cast a bad main character if you have a strong supporting cast. Oh, did I say that out loud?

Joe. Why did we agree to do this?

Roger. It’s change you can believe in!

Joe. I think instead we should do something useful for a change, like come up with legislation that’s good.

Roger. Or, we can get me out of debt! And, it might illuminate my being a were-professor!

All. What?

Roger. I mean, uh, theater teaches people things.

Chuck. (Triumphant fanfare that becomes Feels So Good.)

Narrator. Meanwhile, Phil Collins is embroiled in the legal battle of his lifetime…his seventy-ninth divorce with his wife, Phyllis Collins. However, things are greatly complicated by the fact that Phyllis is actually one of Phil’s many split personalities who comes out whenever he puts on a beehive wig.

Phillip. Ladies and gentlemen of the court, I, the honorable lawyer Phillip Phillips–

Judge. Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to sit down.

Phillip. But, I’m the lawyer! Why would you want me to sit down?

Judge. Sir, you’re not the lawyer, you’re the defendant. Also, it’s shaky as to whether or not you can be in this courtroom, as you and your wife are both British citizens.

Phil. Wait, I thought this was America!

Judge. Yes. That’s really the crux of the issue.

Phil. But, I’ve already paid the court fees! In gold bricks.

Judge. Mr. Collins, those were regular bricks spraypainted silver.

Phil. What’re colors? And metals?

Judge. I’m not sure I can let this case continue.

Phyllis. I object!

Judge. On what grounds?

Phyllis. That we’re not divorced yet!

(Beat.)

Judge. Mr. Collins. You are putting on a succession of disguises and changing your voice. It appears to me that you’re suing yourself and are also a lawyer. I’m not sure if this is a case, or how you got into this courtroom.

Phil. Well, the door was open. After I broke it down.

Judge. Yes, that…you’re going to have to pay for that.

Phil. As I said, I gave you a mountain of gold!

Judge. And as I said, those were bricks.

Phil. Gold bricks!

Judge. Regular bricks.

Phillip. I object, your honor!

Judge. Overruled. Bailiff, please escort this man out.

Phyllis. Wait! I demand justice!

Judge. Enough, now–

Phyllis. I was born in a little town called Edmundworthingtonshirestonbog. I was a peasant for a while, until me husband Phil Collins came along. And then I realized…someday we would be divorced.

Phil. And I helped!

Phyllis. And, it’s been romance ever since. Now, sir, if you don’t divorce us, you’re doing mankind a great disservice. We were born to be divorced!

Judge. Bailiff, please.

Phillip. Your honor, I took the liberty of incapacitating your bailiff. I hope you don’t mind.

Judge. Excuse me?!

Phillip. Well, he was being rough with my client!

Judge. That’s…that’s assault! Where is my bailiff?

Phillip. He’s in the corner over there, bleeding a little.

Judge. There’s a drumstick sticking out of his eye.

Phil. And I helped!

Judge. Did you just admit to murder?!

Phil. Did I mention my diplomatic immunity?

Judge. You’re not a diplomat!

Phyllis. Yes he is, your honor! The ambassador to the Louisiana territory!

Judge. And how are you going to back that up?

Phillip. With this certificate of diplomacy!

Judge. Sir, that’s gay porn.

Phil. And I helped!

(Beat.)

SFX. Gavel.

Judge. And, you’re officially divorced. Next case!

Narrator. Meanwhile, in DSNT’s house, DSNT is crying himself to sleep.

(DSNT cries for an uncomfortable length of time. Beat.)

Narrator. And that’s why you shouldn’t be loud, racist and a misogynist, even if you’re trolling. Join us again every Sunday at 1 p.m. for another classic episode of Twizzlers For Everyone Forever presents: Death Spares Not the Tiger, an epic radio drama as we conclude this story arc: For Want of a Fail!

All. A DOCTOR A DAY GETS THE HYPOCHONDRIA TO STAY.

credits

from Twyzzlers for Everyone Forever presents: Death Spares Not the Tiger, an epic radio Drama, track released December 14, 2009
Written by Ben Ferber and Donnie McEwan
Ben Ferber – Fluid, Don Qui-Ho-Te, Glenn Beck, Zach O’Toole
Donnie McEwan – DSNT, Chuck Mangione
Chad Putka – JFK, Racketeer, Operator
Joe Phillips – Phil Collins, Phyllis Collins, Phillip Phillips, Strom Thurmond
Mary Heatwole – Secretary, Janet Reno, Operator 2
Mora Harris – Station Manager, Amelia Earhart, HilDog
Rachel Graf Evans – Sarah Palin, Waiter, Judge
Ralph Johnson – Narrator, Joe Biden
Sasha Schechter – Vera Boinsley, Nancy Pelosi
Roger Copeland – Guest Starring as Roger Woodruff and Wise Guru

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Twyzzlers for Everyone Forever Oberlin

A series of radio shows hosted by Ben Ferber and Donald McEwan. Very few socks, lots of inappropriately-placed Subway restaurants, fake (and real!) celebrities galore, and lots of prog rock.

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