Objectionable Content: Childhood ruin, gang violence, orphans, Hillary Clinton, wine, Dionysian rituals, cannibalism, murder, fugues, hipsters, racsim, prostitution, and hipsters.

Narrator. We go now to The Feve, where Fluid is fighting for his very life against Don Qui-Ho-Te, a local psychopath. He has been chained to a table and is competing in a battle of wits.

Fluid. Let me go, damn you!

Don. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Fluid. Well I did your challenges. I lost, because you cheated.

Don. I did no such thing!

Fluid. Most of them involved me being chained to a table and you torturing me!

Don. That wasn’t torture! It was consensual!

Fluid. What about that last one?

Don. Ok, that might have been torture…

Fluid. Let us never speak of that again.

Don. But a contest of who could read the most Ayn Rand without bleeding from the eyes is truly for the manliest of men, and is a traditional Slovakian rite of manhood!

Fluid. You are making that up.

Don. Maybe, but it’s not like you can check!

Fluid. I just did, on my iPhone.

Don. Impossible! I shielded this entire building from the Internets!

Fluid. Is that why there’s horse-

Don. Yes!

(Beat.)

SFX. Flies.

Fluid. That’s disgusting, and would never work.

Don. Silence! We must complete our last and greatest challenge: the fugue interrogation challenge!

Fluid. What?

(The next line is in fugue.)

Don. Follow my lead…
Wherefore to Dover, let him answer that
See shalt thou never, fellows hold the chair
Upon these eyes of thine I’ll set my foot.
Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly!

Don. Take that!

Fluid. That’s pretty good…but I can do you one better!

(The next line is in fugue.)

Fluid. (Screaming.) But I shall see
The wing’ed vengeance overtake such children
He that will think to live til he be old
Give me some help! (Screaming.)

Roger. A perfect ten! Not so much on the first one though.

DSNT. Fluid even did that while Don Qui-Ho-Te was poking him in the eyes. That’s amazing.

Don. I am a man of many talents!

Fluid. My retinas feel like jelly. Bear jelly.

(Beat.)

DSNT. Oh, by the way, Fluid, you didn’t come to our show yesterday.

Fluid. I was a little occupied?!

DSNT. And you’ve been reported missing. Lots of people are worried.

Fluid. Can you set me free? Please?

Roger. I’ve learned in my time as a theater professor, during my sleep, that music and poetry are just fantastic together.

DSNT. How could you learn in your sleep?

Fluid. Hello? Trapped?

Roger. Well, I haven’t exactly been learning in my sleep. I think I’m suffering from multiple personality disorder and when I say learn things what I mean is that I read things that I tattoo on my body in my sleep. Also occasionally I find information in my bed upon waking. Then I read it. Apparently I’m also doing a production of Hamlet.

DSNT. What a harrowing tale of survival!

Roger. I don’t think you’re listening!

Fluid. You’re also not listening to me!

SFX. Punch.

Fluid. Ow!

Don. Shut up, mindslave!

DSNT. It reminds me of my day yesterday. See-

Roger. I don’t care about your day! I’m just here to get a sandwich and then get back to rehearsal. Mrs. Palin just refuses to learn her lines correctly.

Don. Who’s she playing?

Roger. Claudius and Fortinbras. We only have eight actors. They’re all conveniently above me in presidential succession. I think I have said too much.

Don. That would make you the secretary of agriculture!

Fluid. How do you know that?

Don. I teach American History! To underprivileged inner-city youths!

DSNT. No you don’t.

Don. You can’t prove I don’t. You’re chained to the table.

DSNT. No I’m not.

Don. Oh…could you hold still for a second.

DSNT. No.

Don. Could you hold still for about six minutes?

DSNT. Wait, did you say Sarah Palin is in your play?

Roger. Yes I did!

DSNT. Sarah “The Hotness” Palin?

Roger. In a very whorish way, yes.

DSNT. Did you say “sexy?”

Roger. No, I said whorish.

DSNT. And yet I hear only “sexy.”

Roger. I like that. How would you like to be my assistant?

DSNT. Is that fancy talk for “courtesan?”

Roger. Good god, no!

DSNT. Then I’m not interested. Is there a position open as Sarah Palin’s personal concubine?

Roger. Why would you want to do that?

DSNT. I’ll take it!

Roger. What?!

DSNT. When do we start rehearsals?

Roger. About four hours ago in Washington DC!

DSNT. Goodness gracious! We have to blow this joint!

Roger. We’ll take the Internet! Hop on my iPhone!

DSNT. How would that work?

Roger. The internet is a series of tubes!

SFX. Star Trek warp noise.

DSNT. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

(Beat.)

Don. Well that was fun. I guess we’ve all learned the true meaning of Christmas.

Fluid. Can you let me go now? This is kidnapping.

Don. Only a very specific kind of kidnapping. I’m off to…THE NORTH POLE! I have to teach Santa the true meaning of Kwanzaa!

Fluid. And what is that, exactly?

Don. It’s a series of tubes!

SFX. Star Trek warp noise.

(Beat.)

Fluid. I’m still chained to the table!

Narrator. We go now to Washington DC, where Roger and DSNT are meeting with Erica Dyer about how to rehearse faster using science!

Roger. So, Ms. Dyer, the long and short of it is that I need to put weeks of rehearsal time into today so that when our shows goes up it’ll be good.

Erica. When is your show going up?

Roger. Later tonight!

Erica. Oh, my. Well, I think I have just the technique: it’s called “superobjectives.”

Roger. Ooh, I think I have a tattoo about that!

Erica. See, normal actors use objectives to understand their characters innermost motivations for action, but the best actors have been trained to use superobjectives! They’re like regular objectives, but filled with liquid mercury.

Roger. Actually, I think you’re mixing up your terminology. See, my tattoo said–

Erica. Shut up! I’m the chief innovator in the field of super-mathematics and I’ve used them to create this fantastic new acting technique! Simply feed them liquid mercury, and–

DSNT. That kills you. Don’t do that.

Erica. Well, of course it kills you. We’re doing a production of Hamlet!

Roger. But, we don’t want to kill the people. Just the characters! See, census law states that characters are technically people, and if they die, life insurance can be taken out. So, I’ve taken out policies on all the characters from Hamlet and–oh, there I go telling too much, again!

(Beat.)

Roger. I owe four million dollars in environmental protection money!

(Beat.)

Erica. Well, if you’re not so into killing your actors, you can instead use my super-mathematics to alter the flow of time!

DSNT. Well, how would we do that?

Erica. It’s all in how you pronounce the “anager.”

DSNT. Uh, that’s something I said a few weeks ago.

Erica. You perceived weeks, but it was really about five minutes.

DSNT. Wow, let’s do that! This sounds like a great idea that could never backfire.

Roger. You still didn’t explain how we do it.

Erica. Just flex your butt muscles more. It’ll come naturally.

Roger. Well, that’s just brilliant! DSNT, go brief the actors!

DSNT. Yes, sir. Should I give Sarah Palin a private briefing?

Roger. Working one-on-one with the weaker actors is always a good idea. Make it so!

SFX. Footsteps, door.

Roger. Now, uh, Dr. Dyer, I’ve been meaning to ask you about this drug trial. Is it normal for me to wake up having obviously spent long nights studying and professing theater? And, to have tattooed myself with wine? Because both seem to have been happening.

Erica. That’s a common side effect. It’s all right, though. Soon your night personality will take over, and the Roger you once were will never be again! (Evil laughter.)

(Beat.)

Roger. Oh, well that sounds good. I should be getting to rehearsal.

Narrator. Meanwhile, in the Presidential rehearsal chamber…

DSNT. And, that’s the proper way to use vegetable oil. Any questions? Yes, Mr. Biden.

Joe. I don’t see how this is helping us act.

DSNT. Oh, well, let me show you with Mrs. Palin. Sarah, if you’d just remove your–

SFX. Door breaks down.

Roger. Sorry I’m late, everyone! Let’s begin.

Sarah. That was a close call. Just like the time Russia almost invaded, but I kept ‘em at bay with my moose-huntin’ gun. I can shoot Russia from my house. With an IBC. (Whispered.) That one’s for duck hunting.

Janet. JANET RENO LOVES DUCKS! THEY ARE CUTE AND CUDDLY.

Strom. Now, now, Mr. Reno, let’s not get too excited.

Roger. That’s all well and good, but we have to finish this production by 6 p.m. Now, everyone buckle down and let’s rehearse like nobody’s ever rehearsed before! It’s time…for a montage!

SFX. Eye of the Tiger.

(Montage!)

JFK. Um, er, which character am I playing again?

Janet. YOU’RE THE KING!!!

JFK. Oh, right. Luke, I am your father. Hehe.

Sarah. I thought I was his father, yah?

HilDog. No, you’re the leader of a country! Like I’m supposed to be!

Joe. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer/The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,/Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,/And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;/No more.

Roger. Joe Biden, stop sucking!

Joe. Uh…Whether tis nobler…

Nancy. Can Ophelia have kitties? I like kitties!

Joe. No, she cannot! That doesn’t make any sense!

Nancy. I identify with Ophelia because she doesn’t cause any change.

Roger. Remember the Choric Dithyramb!

Strom. I say, I say, women are incapable of making decisions.

HilDog. Hamlet is incapable of making decisions! I’m capable of making decisions! Presidential decisions!

Roger. Dithyramb!

Chuck. (Plays along with music for a little while.)

JFK. You said it, Polonius!

Roger. You’re not in this scene, King!

DSNT. Guys, I think it would be a lot better if–

Roger. Hey, you don’t get to make any decisions! You’re the assistant director. Peon.

DSNT. Aww. What can I do?

Roger. Get the lighting designer to take focus away from Joe. He’s just not doing anything right.

Joe. O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever/The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom:/Let me be cruel, not unnatural:/I will speak daggers to her, but use none.

HilDog. Did he receive you well?

Strom. Most like a gentleman.

Janet. BUT WITH MUCH FORCING OF HIS DISPOSITION!

Roger. You’re not saying the lines right! It’s like you’re all some sort of caricatures.

Strom. My family hasn’t talked normally since my grandpappy’s generation, which was, of course, the 1700s.

HilDog. You misogynist–

Strom. I’m wearin’ a white suit and carryin’ a fine mint julep. Your harsh words bounce off of me like bills for civil rights bounced off the state senates of South Carolina and Georgia.

JFK. It’s funny to think that you’re older than me, Strom. But everyone thinks we’re both dead. (Laugh.)

Chuck. (Flugel-laugh.)

DSNT. Remember your blocking! Remember it!

Sarah. Never!

Roger. That’s it! It’s the perfect production! We just all have to remember when to die. And, then insurance money. Er, I mean social change.

SFX. Fade Eye of the Tiger.

Narrator. We now go to Phil Collins. He has decided to go on a Genesis reunion tour with just himself. Right now, he’s doing things in places.

Phil. All right, so now that I’m in this One-Man-Band Suit Store, I’ll go find the perfect one-man-band suit! The one-man-band suit is an invention that could never backfire!

Shirley. Hello, sir! My name’s Shirley. Can I help you find anything?

Phil. Shirley MacLanie? What an honor! I loved you in Die Hard!

Shirley. I wasn’t in Die Hard. And, I’m not Shirley MacLaine.

Phil. Oh, don’t say that! Of course you are.

Shirley. No, my name’s Shirley Collins.

Phil. What a coincidence! That’s my name, too.

Shirley. Really? But, you’re a guy.

Phil. Well, actually, my middle name is Shirley. And my first name…

Phileesha. Is Phileesha!

(Beat.)

Shirley. Why did you just put on a dreadlocks wig?

Phileesha. Oh, don’t be askin’ about my weave. Them’s family secrets.

Shirley. I’m fairly sure what you’re doing should be morally offensive to me, but I’m mostly just amused.

Phyllis. Honey, will you stop flirting with the sales girl and buy your one-man-band suit?

Phil. Oh, I apologize, honey. Now, I’d like to purchase a sandwich.

Shirley. Well, I think you’re looking for the Subway next door.

Phil. Did I say sandwich? I mean a one-man-band suit. I’m looking for a one-man-band suit. Preferably with drums in the butt. See, I devised a dance move–

Shirley. I’m not sure I know what you’re looking for. Though, we do sell an odd assortment of clothing. I’ll ask my manager. Oh, Chris!

Chris. (From afar.) What?!

Shirley. Can you help a customer?

SFX. Running.

Chris. A customer?! Why, hello there! I’m Chris T. Furry and I’m the manager of this establishment. How can I help you? Oh, it’s you, Phil Collins. What brings you to…er…this kind of establishment?

Phil. You see, I’m searching for a one-man-band suit.

Chris. Well, we have this nice catsuit…

Phil. Ooh, is there a guitar in the front pocket?

Chris. Well, it’s made of skintight latex, so there isn’t a front pocket. Were you looking for something a little heavier?

Phyllis. Don’t get anything too heavy, honey!

Phileesha. Yeah, hon, you gon’ have to carry that yourself ‘cause Phileesha ain’t helping you.

Phil. Oh, all right. Something mobile, but that can carry a bass guitar in the helmet. I’ve been working on playing the bass with me mind. Want to see?

Chris. Uh…sure?

Phil. ERGH! UGH! AAAAAAGH!

(Beat.)

Phil. It’d probably work a little better with a bass.

Chris. I see…uh, how about this Aardvark suit? A little unconventional, but…

Phyllis. That’s much too unsightly! You’ll be booed off the stage, honey!

Chris. I guess your…uh…wife has a point, Phil.

Phil. Stop making me purchase difficult! What I really need to happen with this purchase is a way to play the guitar with my thighs.

Chris. I’m not sure we carry anything like that. Any ideas, Shirley?

Shirley. Not at all.

Phil. Well, darn! How can you call yourself a one-man-band suit store if you don’t sell one-man-band suits?

Chris. We never claimed to be a one-man-band suit store. We sell fursuits.

Shirley. To furries.

Chris. Like me.

Phil. Oooooooooooooh. That explains the smell of freak. Well, we’ll search elsewhere, thank you!

SFX. Walking away.

(Beat. Chris cries uncontrollably.)

Narrator. Meanwhile, on the radio…

Vera. You’re listening to 91.5 WOBC. This is DJ Vera Boinsley for a very special edition of my show, For Want of a Fail, a weekly advice show! I originally did the show with your heroes, DJ A Fluid Thing and DJ DSNT, but A Fluid Thing has gone tragically missing and DSNT went to Washington or something. My advice to DSNT, if you’re listening, is to have a great time in the capitol! And, my advice to Fluid, if you’re alive and listening is try to develop Stockholm syndrome immediately. You can remember your captors better if you’re in love with them. Today we have a very special show: I’ll be interviewing President Amelia Earhart, her first public interview in office. But, first up, I’d like to take a call. Hello, you’re on For Want of a Fail! How can I fail you tonight?

Tokyo Joe. Hello, Vera. This is Tokyo Joe Nagaman. Long time listener, first time caller. Though it’s not exactly a long time, since you’ve only had about four shows so far. I am the proprietor of a very lucrative business, but I need advice on how to expand.

Vera. Well, I’m just the femme fatale for you. I have five minutes experience reading about business on Wikipedia!

Tokyo Joe. Yes, yes. Now, I own the famed Tokyo Joe’s Young Male Asian Escort Service and its many offshoots including Camp KY, Tsunami of Love Cruiselines, and Tokyo Towers Hotels. These businesses are each very popular in their own right, but are…violently understaffed.

Vera. How so?

Tokyo Joe. Well, we only have a single employee.

Vera. Per establishment?

Tokyo Joe. In the entire world. His name is Toshi. Here, I’ll put him on the phone.

Toshi. Oh, hello! This is Toshi, the world’s most experienced whore. I have found a way to be seven places in one hour, and for seven places to be in me.

Vera. Well, that sounds horrifying. My advice to you both is to stop working for a while and relax! Maybe take a break from the everyday routine and…make love. If you know what I mean.

Tokyo Joe. That’s really the problem, though; that’s all Toshi does and he–

Toshi. SOMETIMES MY MIND BURNS WITH THE CHLAMYDIA!!!

Tokyo Joe. That.

Vera. Oh, well that’s easily curable with Motrin.

(Beat.)

Vera. Well, have a great night!

SFX. Phone hangs up.

Vera. Next caller.

Hipster. Hey, man, what’s up?

Vera. You sound very…hipstery.

Hipster. That’s the problem, man! I wanna be a hipster but I don’t know how to! They’re so cool! I wanna be like them, and frolic through the fields in the evening.

Vera. Well, first thing, you need to wear very loose-fitting pants. Hipsters make sure to wear nice, new, clean clothing, and their styles are often presentable and clean-cut. Shower often, once a day at least. And do a lot of work for all your classes. Next, you need to find something, it doesn’t matter what, but you need to decide it matters a lot and work on making it your life’s purpose. And, if you smoke you need to stop. Hipsters never smoke. And, if you’re currently pursing a liberal arts degree of some sort, primarily English or Philosophy, you’ll want to change that to something in the sciences, likely chemistry.

Hipster. What about my taste in food and drink?

Vera. Well, Hipsters only like the highest quality in food in drink, especially in beer. The darker the better. And, they often like to try lots of new foods, so they don’t mind gaining a little weight. That’s why you wear the baggy pants.

Hipster. Wow. I’ve been doing everything wrong. Now, how do I know who’s a hipster so I can hang out with them?

Vera. Just find people like that! The more outgoing the better. Hipsters are the most inclusive social clique. And, they’re all definitely contributing members of society.

Hipster. Thanks, man, you really turned my life around!

Vera. Have a great night.

SFX. Phone hangs up.

Vera. Well, folks, its just about 6 p.m., so we’ll start our interview! Though I’m not quite sure where President Earhart went…

SFX. Amelia teleports in.

Amelia. Sorry about that! I was grabbing some dinner. Fine Southern cuisine!

Vera. Ooh, what did you have?

Amelia. Well, his name was Earl.

Vera. Speaking of which, this brings me to my first question. There’re a lot of rumors floating around that you’re a cannibal.

Amelia. All true.

Vera. And, the other day, you confirmed to me that you’re an evil sorceress.

Amelia. Yeah, that’s true too. That’s how I teleported in!

Vera. How do you think that impacts your ability to run the country?

Amelia. Name a country you don’t like.

Vera. I can’t think of one.

Amelia. That’s because I asked you and made sure they never existed in the first place. Name another one.

Vera. I’m not sure–

Amelia. Hahahahahaha, only kidding! Though I could destroy any country I wanted to at will. You’re next, Greece.

Vera. You seem to be very open about your dark sorcery.

Amelia. Well, if anyone threatens to tell, I’ll just kill them. Speaking of which, are we broadcasting?

Vera. Only a little bit…

Amelia. I WILL END YOU!!!

Vera. Can I ask another question first?

SFX. Evil sorceress noise.

Vera. I’ll take that as a “yes.” I was a government employee for about five years, from the tender age of fifteen. I was recently terminated during your administration. Could you speak to the audience about your restructuring of government and the allegations that your administration is actually just you threatening to kill people?

SFX. Eviler sorceress noise.

Vera. Very interesting.

Amelia. YOU DOUBLE CROSS ME, RADIO HOST!!!

Vera. It was an accident! How do I avoid your evil wrath? Any advice?

SFX. Indiana Jones Theme. Door breaks in.

Station Manager. DO A BARREL ROLL!!!

Amelia. NO!!! THE PROPHECIZED ONE!!!

Station Manager. Stop right there, Madam President!

Vera. What the hell?

Station Manager. And, now…we naked oil wrestle to the death!

Amelia. VERY WELL.

(Beat.)

Vera. I accept your sexualities!

SFX. Running away, door slam.

Station Manager. To the naked oil wrestling chamber!

SFX. Double teleport. Record scratch. It’s A Wonderful World by Hampsterdance.

Station Manager. You befoul my station!

Amelia. You are an insolent one. Now we fight!

SFX. Splash. Some more splashing. Door.

Erica. Oh, hey, are you warming up? Let me change into my…NUDITY!!!

SFX. Several rips and zippers. One elephant.

Erica. Oh, did you invite someone else?

Amelia. PUNY LITTLE SCIENTIST!!!

Erica. Oh, hey, it’s Amelia Earhart! Fortunately, I have my green laser. Wait…no! It was in my pants!

Station Manager. So are the disadvantages of naked oil wrestling. I could use some help, though.

SFX. More splashing.

Station Manager. I have her pinned! Use…science!

Erica. Science doesn’t work that way, you fool!

SFX. Gunshot.

Station Manager. Fortunately, I had this gun.

Erica. Gun violence saves the world again!

Narrator. Elsewhere…

Roger. You can just call me…Machina. Deus Ex Machina!

Narrator. Back in the station…

Erica. So, what do we do with the president’s corpse?

Station Manager. The only thing I can think of: we’ll have to use cannibalism to dispose of her.

Erica. I don’t see how that helps. We broadcast that battle on the radio. Everyone knows we killed her. Actually, we’re still broadcasting now.

Station Manager. Oh. Well. I still think it’s a fitting poetic end if we eat her.

Erica. Go right ahead. I already sawed off the top of her skull. For science. I’m going to go take a shower to wash off the oil. And the shame.

Station Manager. Are you really ashamed of what we do every day?

Erica. Oh, no, it’s the murder.

Station Manager. Since when do you care about murder? You’re worse than a Nazi scientist about that.

Erica. Well, when it’s the president.

SFX. Footsteps, door.

Station Manager. Well, I guess I’ll start with the brain. They say in a lot of tribal mythologies that eating someone’s brain gives you their knowledge. I hope I don’t become–

Narrator. Five minutes later…

Station Manager. BOW BEFORE ME!!! Ooh, that tingled. What just happened? Hmm, looks like I’ve eaten her entire person in five minutes…

Narrator. Five minutes later-er…

Station Manager. Oh, dear. I seem to have become an evil sorceress.

SFX. Door.

Erica. Well, I’m showered off.

Station Manager. FETCH ME A SANDWICH, KNAVE!!!

Erica. What?

Station Manager. I’m hungry.

Erica. Did you eat her entire body?

Station Manager. Maybe I’m not hungry, then. Do I look strange to you?

Erica. Well, you are glowing purplish black a little.

Station Manager. Did I get an STI or something?

Erica. You’re an evil sorceress, aren’t you?

Station Manager. Maybe a little bit. Perhaps eating her wasn’t a great idea.

Erica. Well, I’m sure it’ll wear off in time. Either that or you’ll become immortal. Either way, really.

Station Manager. I’m sure it won’t be an INSOLENT problem.

Narrator. Meanwhile, on the Senate floor, the world’s greatest arena theater, Roger Woodruff’s production of Hamlet is coming to fruition. Let’s watch…in montage form!

Roger. I’M MARCELLUS, AND HOLY POOP, IT’S A GHOST!

JFK. I don’t er-uh-blame Claudius. My brother Robert tried to do the same thing to get my wife. Who was much less of a MILF than Gertrude is. I would, er, uh, hit that.

Joe. Haste me to know’t, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.

JFK. Your mother is to blame for this. Um, er, uh, she’s killed the king! I think that might be me. Oh, er, uh, Joe, you should avenge me. Woo, I’m a ghost. Of your father.

Nancy. I love you, Hamlet. Also, my cats. Which I definitely have and the director didn’t tell me not to.

Chuck. (Wah wah.)

Sarah. I need you to spy on my nephew for me, Rosencrantz and Guilden-whatever.

Reno. JANET RENO IS ALLERGIC TO CATS. (She chokes and dies.)

SFX. Thump.

Nancy. You’re upsetting Thumper!

Strom. What I believe my cohort meant to say is that of course we’ll spy on him. Spy spy spy, there, we’re done.

Nancy. I love you Hamlet. But not my job. I wish I could have less power.

HilDog. I DESERVE MORE POWER. I SHOULD BE PRESIDENT.

Joe. Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a
Breeder of sinners?

HilDog. I RULE YOU!!!

Sarah. Now now, I’m pretty sure I do the ruling around here.

Strom. I say, I say, I’m a troupe of actors and I’m very wonderful at it.

Sarah. Is this where I was supposed to be moved, yah?

HilDog. I RULE YOU, HAMLET!!!

(Beat.)

Joe. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
And now I’ll do’t. And so he goes to heaven;
And so am I revenged.

JFK. See, after Teddy tried to, uh, kill that hooker, the Kennedys weren’t allowed to own guns anymore. But then he just kept trying to kill women with cars.

Roger. You’re not in this scene! This is where Polonius is spying on Gertrude and Hamlet!

Chuck. (Sneaky noises.)

Joe. How now! A rat! Dead, for a ducat, dead!

Chuck. (Dies.)

JFK. I, err, uh, beg to differ. I am in this scene.

Sarah. Hamlet! We need to send you to England until this whole “murder” thing blows over. That’s why I’m sending him, right?

Strom. And I helped!

HilDog. I RULE YOU. PEOPLE DO WHAT I SAY BECAUSE I AM THE PRESIDENT.

JFK. It’s not easy being a Kennedy. All of the hookers and blow really take a, err, uhhhh…(Long pause.)…toll on your brain.

Roger. You’re not in this scene!

Nancy. (Singing.) Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you

SFX. Splashes. Gurgles.

Nancy. I’m drowning! Someone save my cats! They hate water! Someone should have voted for cat health care.

HilDog. YOU MAKE WOMEN DICTATORS EVERYWHERE LOOK BAD.

Roger. Well, now that Ophelia’s dead, I, being the gravedigger, will just dig her grave! Diggity dig dig dig!

Joe. Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
Of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
Borne me on his back a thousand times

JFK. I borne Marilyn Monroe on my front lots of, err, uh, times. Felt good, man.

HilDog. STOP SAYING WORDS!

Sarah. Speaking of which, if Hamlet and Laertes were to have a swordfight, I’d be able to see it from my house.

(Beat.)

Roger. (Whispered.) JFK, you’re Laertes now.

JFK. What? Err, uh…who?

Joe. (Whispered.) Ophelia’s brother, you’re avenging her death!

JFK. Her what now?

Sarah. Our son shall win.

JFK. Fight, you wuss!

Joe. I’ll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance
Your skills shall, like a star in the darkest night
Stick fiery off indeed.

SFX. Swordfight, two wounds.

Joe. Nay, come again!

HilDog. I DIE!

Sarah. Did I die now?

JFK. I err, uh, guess I die know? Where the bar?

Joe. O, I die, Horatio. Then I give a speech. The rest is silence. This play sucked.

(Beat.)

Sarah. Oh, I guess counting that Rosencrantz and Guilden-whatever died that makes eight or nine, maybe it was twelve, so now the kingdom is mine. Cool. Let’s set up a moose firing range here.

Narrator. Oh wait, that wasn’t a montage. That was the entire play. They just did a stupid version of it.

SFX. Maple Leaf Rag ends.

Roger. UNLIMITED POWER!

DSNT. Excuse me?

Roger. Well now I’m the president, and I have 4.3 million dollars in life insurance money.

DSNT. The insurance companies can’t afford that sort of thing! You probably just put a life insurance company out of business.

Roger. And that’s the way Shakespeare would have wanted it!

Racketeer. I’ll be taking 4 million dollars of that money! Yoink!

Roger. Yes sir!

DSNT. He took all of your money!

Roger. Yeah, but he left me with 300,000 dollars. That much money, prudently invested, should be enough to last me for a while.

DSNT. Oh…you have a point there, actually.

Roger. And now I can do what I never knew I always wanted to do…become the greatest theater professor in the world!

SFX. O Fortuna.

Erica. And now you’ve learned your lesson!

Roger. What are you talking about!

Erica. Those pills I gave you, they were actually roofies. In the night, I put temporary tattoos on your skin and planted those notes in your bed that fed you all the information you needed to know. I made you! (Evil laughter.)

Roger. Wait, what happened to my pants?

Erica. Ancient Chinese secret.

Roger. Well I don’t have to grad school for this, right? I can just become a professor right now.

Erica. Eh, I guess. I’ll write up some recommendations for you.

Roger. So I was really a theater professor all along?

Erica. No, I played terrible mind games with your psyche to make you believe that.

Roger. Oh…

DSNT. Wait! I think I get it! He didn’t really need the grad school! The magic was in him all along!

Erica. No, it was just careful manipulation and planning.

DSNT. Oh…

(Beat.)

DSNT. Can you manipulate me into thinking that I’m a porn star?

Erica. I’m done with this experiment. Speaking of which, Roger, that’ll be 300,000 dollars for the roofies.

DSNT. Those only cost twenty dollars a capsule.

Erica. They were magical roofies.

DSNT. Oh…

Erica. That or I’m extorting you. You’ll never know!

SFX. Hypno-bra.

Erica. Oh, that was the button for my hypno-bra.

SFX. Jetpack.

Roger. Well at least I broke even! And I’m still the president!

Joe. Actually, I’m the president. Amelia just died. You’re fired.

Roger. But you’re dead! You were in the play!

Joe. The play’s over, Roger, it ends right after everyone dies.

Roger. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Narrator. We go now to…THE NORTH POLE!

Don. Oh Santa! Oh Santa!

(Beat.)

Don. Santa!

Santa. WHAT?!

Don. I’m here to teach you about the magic of Kwanzaa!

Santa. Well they have protesters for just about everything these days, don’t they.

Don. Perhaps you should take a seat.

Santa. We’re not doing that.

Don. And you are Santa, right?

Santa. Am I being served? Listen, Mrs. Claus and I might not live together anymore, but we’re still happily married.

Don. That’s not why I- wait, you’re not living with Mrs. Claus anymore?

Santa. No…she got fed up with how I was always doing work. Only time for toys and no time for her. When I wasn’t making toys, I needed to rest dammit. Making all of those toys is my calling. It’s what I have to do! She needed too much attention.

Don. That’s not really why I’m here.

Santa. Could I have some alcohol?

Don. I’m at your house, generally you would be the one serving me.

Santa. But see, I drank it all. I’m just so lonely.

Don. Perhaps you should start at…the beginning…

SFX. Flashback.

Santa’s Mom. Dear, I think I’m giving birth.

Santa’s Dad. Well good god, woman, don’t just stand there, get to the sleigh! We can still make it to the midwife!

Santa’s Mom. It’s too late! I’m going to die!

Santa’s Dad. In childbirth!? But that’s a tragic cliché! Then our son will be destined to have an all-consuming goal that leaves him alienated from those around him!

Santa’s Mom. I’m DYYYING!!!

SFX. Baby cries. De-flashback.

Santa. And that’s the source of all my pain! Ho-ho-ho-ho! (Degenerates into sobbing that’s still syllables of ho-ho-ho.)

Don. I didn’t really ask for all of that…Now if I could just get you to sign this petition…

Santa. And then in junior high…

SFX. Flashback.

Kids. Ha ha! Ha ha! Little Santa Claus is making toys again out of snow!

Bully. And he’s an orphan!

SFX. De-flashback.

Santa. Oh, if I didn’t mention my dad killed himself soon afterwards.

SFX. Flashback.

Bully. But he’s fat in a jolly kind of way, so that’s ok with me.

Kids. Ha ha! Ha ha!

SFX. De-flashback.

Santa. And then I joined a gang!

SFX. Flashback.

Santa. What’s up, my homies!

SFX. Gunfire. Lots of gunfire.

Santa. No Raoul! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

SFX. De-flashback.

Santa. Raoul was Santa’s best homie….

Don. I’m uncomfortable with the amount of information you’re revealing. I think I’m going to go…

Santa. Don’t leave Santa.

Don. No, I really should go.

Santa. Alright. Santa won’t stop you. Santa will drink himself to sleep again.

Don. Bye!

SFX. Footsteps. Door.

Santa. Santa misses Mrs. Claus. Well…I guess it’s just Ms. Claus now.

(Mrs. Claus appears as a spectral ghost.)

Mrs. Claus. Santa! I love you, Santa!

Santa. No! Stop haunting me!

Mrs. Claus. Say we’ll be together forever Santa!

Santa. Nooooooo! Stop! I can’t live like this!

Mrs. Claus. I want to be yours forever!

Santa. Ho ho ho! (Sobbing.)

SFX. Metallic fumbling.

Santa. I’m sorry Mrs. Claus! I can’t live like this anymore!

Mrs. Claus. You’re the best man in the world Santa!

Santa. (Sniffle, whispered.) I’m sorry Mrs. Claus.

SFX. Gunshot.

(Beat.)

Chuck. (Wah wah that turns into happy Feels So Good.)

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

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

Narrator. And that’s why you shouldn’t…well…do anything this character has. Or, really anything at all. You’re all horrible people. You’ve just listened to Twyzzlers for Everyone Forever presents: Death Spares Not the Tiger, an epic radio drama! This concludes our third season. Go to twyzzlers.com to check out the entire series and for updates about our future!

All. DERPS HAPPEN!!!

(Short silence.)

Fluid. Hello? Narrator? You forgot to give me closure!

(Beat.)

Fluid. I’M STILL IN THE RESTAURAAAAAAAAAAAAAANT!!!

(Beat.)

Fluid. Listen, I’m basically the main character of this show! I know I’m mainly here for color commentary and whenever I have a subplot it’s ridiculous…and I know I’m only a surrogate for a co-writer…but…but…I’m a real person, too! With feelings, and…and…stuff…and…(Comic crying.)

SFX. Footsteps.

Vera. I wonder if Station Manager and Amelia Earhart ever finished their fight? I basically just ran away and wandered. What if Amelia has my scent? Is that possible? Is she, like, a hellhound? I guess I’ll have to go into hiding.

Fluid. Vera? Is that Vera outside? Vera! Vera! VEEEEEEEEEEERA!!!

(Fluid’s voice becomes muffled as he continues calling from inside.)

Vera. What was that? Eh, probably the sound of the horrid lifelong paranoia settling in.

SFX. Footsteps away. Fluid’s voice becomes unmuffled.

Fluid. Aw, crap.

(Beat.)

Fluid. You people are all crap! Crap, I say!