Fluid. Last January on Twyzzlers for Everyone Forever presents: Death Spares Not the Tiger, an epic radio drama, I was shaving in the public bathroom. I often do that, because I feel it allows me to connect with the populace better. Suddenly, I noticed a can of Diet Dr. Pepper on the counter, and–

DSNT. This is not what happened last time. Also, I don’t know what you’re talking about with this “Twyzzlers” business…I think you mean to reference what happened five minutes ago.

Fluid. Right! Because the last episode followed Mora on her journey to get the station’s FCC license back and now we’ve gone back in time to tell our stories about getting the operator’s license and taxidermy license!

DSNT. Lay off the LSD.

Fluid. So, I was shaving in the–

DSNT. JUST GO GET THE OPERATOR’S LICENSE. JESUS.

Fluid. NNNNNEVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!!!

DSNT. (Simultaneously.) GET IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!

(Beat.)

Fluid. Okay, I’ll get it.

DSNT. Yeah, thought so.

(Beat.)

Fluid. (Narrating.) So, I went to get the operator’s license. Unfortunately, I had no idea where to get one. I decided the best place to look for one, however, would be the Milton Bradley Corporation since they owned the copyright to the board game Operation. I would have to be very careful not to touch the sides. I whistled for a cab, and when it came near…

SFX. Cab screeching.

Gustav. Oh, heeeey. I’ll be you cab driver for today, Gustav. Before you enter my cab, I must give you trivia competition, okay?

Fluid. Excuse me?

Gustav. Okay, you have to listen to this story about the hazards of wearing latex pants. See, this one time I was at a discothèque…

SFX. Flashback.

Grandmother. You know, I’ve never known a European person, and I don’t think I ever will.

Agnes. Sure, mama.

Grandmother. Well, actually, that’s a lie. I had this cab driver once who was just terrible. But then I punched him in the back of the head and ran away. Of course, that was a long time ago. I’m not sure he survived my assault.

Agnes. Mama, would you like some tea now?

Grandmother. Tea?! Tea is for little girls and Michael Jackson impersonators! Give grandma some straight gin.

Agnes. But…we only have gay gin.

Grandmother. Unacceptable! You’re hereby fired as my granddaughter! Back in WW2, when we couldn’t have nylon stockings, of course, I used to cover my feet with pure grain alcohol. It didn’t really replace the stockings, but boy did my feet smell like pure grain alcohol. And, then, after the war, when we could have stockings we were so excited that we wore big thick wooly ones! But, then we’d have to hang ‘em up over the fireplace because they got all wet from us having poured pure grain alcohol on them constantly. It was impossible to keep those things wet, but boy was it worth it! Your generation doesn’t appreciate the comfort of having your feet wet with pure grain alcohol at all times! It’s because your generation is weak and lazy.

Agnes. Yes, mama.

Grandmother. I bet you can just go to AskJeeves dot com and get someone to pour pure grain alcohol on your feet right through the X Box or whatever you call those AskJeeves contraptions. You just don’t appreciate the long trek we made to the corner stores to get pure grain alcohol with which to drench our feet. Back in WW1–

Agnes. It’s time to stop! Please, mama! It’s time to stop!

Grandmother. But, then, this one time in the Civil War, I was in Canada, which didn’t exist yet of course, and then–

SFX. Shotgun.

Agnes. That was enough of that.

SFX. De-flashback.

Gustav. Great story about my life, right?

Fluid. That had nothing to do with your life.

Gustav. I know, right?

Fluid. Uh…

Gustav. Now, based on the details of the story I just told, what is the best way to snort cocaine off latex pants?

(Beat.)

Fluid. WHAT?!

Gustav. Wrong! As punishment for getting the question wrong, you must ride with three other passengers and pay double the fare.

Fluid. I guess there could be worse–

SFX. Cab door opens.

Gustav. They’re already here in the cab.

Priest. Have we been paying for the duration of this trivia thing?

Gustav. Shut up, we’re going.

SFX. Car screeches away. Door closes.

Merchant. You just drove off with the door open! I could’ve been seriously–

Gustav. Don’t care, let’s listen to Europop.

SFX. Europop.

Merchant. Can you turn that down?!

SFX. Music loudens.

Gustav. Yeah!

Priest. Uh…make it louder!

SFX. Music loudens.

Gustav. Yeah!

Fluid. Make it…mediumer!

SFX. Music plays at a medium volume.

Fluid. Much better. So, who are you guys?

Merchant. My name’s Antonina, and I sell cars. Speaking of which, wanna buy a car? That or some Floridian real estate.

Priest. I’m Donald Q. Doesn’trapeyourchildrenbutactuallyhedoesbecausehe’sapriest.

Fluid. I’m A Fluid Thing, I’m a DJ at WOBC.

Priest. I hear that’s an awful station.

Merchant. No, it’s fine. Just, that show about Twizzlers sucks really bad. They play music that–

Fluid. I DJ that show.

(Beat.)

Priest. I have a story.

Merchant. Do tell!

Fluid. You know, I’m still angry about the–

Priest. Way back in the Paleolithic age…

SFX. Flashback.

Priest. I wasn’t always a dashing superhero. There was a time when I was the city’s leading haberdasher. I led the life of a rockstar. A rockstar who instead of playing rock music made gloves and sometimes when I was drunk made mittens. I was versed in the ways of other men’s wears such as tie clips, glasses chains and pocket protectors and codpieces. Some say my touch with codpieces was magic, but I say they just liked it when I measured for size. No matter, the point is I was a glove-making superhero.

Fluid. I thought you were a priest.

Priest. Patience, my son.

Merchant. These radio hosts, they can’t leave a story for five seconds without putting their noses in it. “Why don’t we make one of the characters a furry” or “Now how can we include more women in this scene–”

Fluid. That’s what she said.

Merchant. I’m gonna pop you one.

Priest. Violence is deplorable and you’re interrupting, which I think is some kind of sin. That’s okay, just donate 30 dollars to the Catholic church.

Fluid. That doesn’t seem very fair.

Priest. 40 dollars.

Fluid. Got it.

Priest. Where was I? Oh, donate that money and you’ll be good to go. Now I’d like to get back to my story. See, back when I competed in the 1935 Olympics, I got to meet John Goodman. Now, you know how the camera puts on 15 pounds? Well John Goodman would insist on having at least 20 cameras on him at all times, he actually was a petite Asian woman. Apparently there’s a gender event horizon in regards to having a lot of cameras on you, and he found that if you had 20 cameras on you at all times, you would look like a fat white man no matter what you looked like. Marlon Brando actually was the kid who played Urkel on Family Matters, for example. So one day in between the 100 meter cow bingo and the speed knitting competition, I sat down with Mr. Goodman and asked him for his opinion on God. Mr. Goodman believed that that the universe was some incredibly benevolent force that just wanted him to know that everything was ok. He revealed that he had seen the physical presence of God in the extreme grease luge-ing competition, it was at that point that he poured an entire vat of molten butter on his stomach and slid off into the distance, leaving only me, a table, a better understanding of the world, and a lot of butter where he once was. And then the bees came.

(Pause.)

Fluid. Is that why you have so many horribly painful bee welts?

Priest. Actually…yes. Although, I choose to believe that they are a message from God. Which reminds me I have a story about how I once took the confession of Wile E Coyote.

Merchant. I once sold Wile E Coyote a used car, several tons of dynamite and a gigantic catapult that I happened to have on hand that day. He came back later and demanded a refund, however he did not have the receipt. See, I cleverly taped the receipt to the dynamite.

Priest. Cool story, my son. I once took Wile E Coyote’s confession, and though the law of the clergy states that I may not reveal his confession to you, the law of the clergy also states that taxi cabs are immune to the law of the clergy. Also holy water.

Gustav. Oh yah. This one time the other day I was splashed with holy water by this priest the other day. It was totally not cool. I had to wash off the acid burns and it ruined my Armani Exchange sweatshirt.

Priest. Cabdrivers, obviously, are not immune. So I was sitting in the confessional reading the Catholic version of Playboy…

SFX. My God by Jethro Tull.

Priest. When Wile E Coyote walked into the confessional.

Wile. I have a confession to make.

Priest. What would that, Mister Coyote.

Wile. That’s the confession. Wait, how did you know–

Priest. I could tell from the voice, plus most confessors don’t bring an Acme catapult into the church with them.

Wile. Yeah…that was this whole thing with a receipt…anyway, aren’t you supposed to pretend you don’t know who I am?

Priest. I’m getting too old for this shit.

Wile. Well encroaching retirement or not, you owe me a decent confession.

Priest. Fine, sorry. Make your confession, anonymous sir.

Wile. That’s the thing. I’m an anony-MISS.

Priest. For that pun you can do 50 Hail Marys.

Wile. Did I say a-NON-ymiss? I meant I am a miss!

Priest. Make it 100.

Wile. Fine. I’m a woman.

Priest. Ok, 70, being a woman is a sin even the most evil of us can overcome.

Wile. I have planted 100 pounds of dynamite underneath your confessional.

Priest. Ok, make it 85.

Wile. Did I say 100 pounds of dynamite? I mean there’s a Rube Goldberg machine that has a cow suspended over your booth with a rabid chipmunk gnawing at the cord. It’s only a matter of days before it is complete. THERE IS NO ESCAPE.

Priest. I get off at 5. I’m retiring after today. Didn’t you catch the ham-handed reference?

Wile. Can I make my confession?

Priest. Go ahead, make my day.

Wile. That’ll be 30 Hail Marys.

Priest. Forgive me father, for I have sinned. Hail mary, full of grace WAIT. I’m the priest here. Goddamn Dirty Harry.

Wile. Make it 50.

Priest. STOP DOING THAT GODDAMMIT.

Wile. 45 for the irony.

Priest. Now, what I’ve really been dying to confess, is that using my identity as a mute cartoon character, I’ve extorted-

Wile. I AM THE ONE CONFESSING, NOT YOU.

Priest. Oh sorry. I always get that one wrong.

Wile. Now, what I’ve really been dying to confess, is that using my identity as a mute cartoon character, I’ve extorted millions of dollars from large corporations using my false identity “Wile E Coyote”. My name is actually Wilemanda Elizabeth Coyota.

Priest. Oh that’s ok. The Catholic church has no problem with extortion. You know how we don’t pay taxes?

Wile. That’s not…the worst of it. I also have…deviant sexual practices.

Priest. Well so do I.

Wile. But they’re…especially weird.

Priest. Nothing is wrong with a fixation on Thousand Island dressing and leather pants.

Wile. I am a reverse furry.

Priest. Like a reverse wolverine?

Wile. What? No.

Priest. That was a great movie.

Wile. You know those people who like to dress up in the animal suits…

Priest. Oh those people…

Wile. Well, anyway I’m an animal that likes to dress up in human suits.

Priest. Like that villain in Silence of the Lambs?

Wile. Hannibal Lector? No he was just a cannibal.

Priest. No…the…villain.

Wile. That one misogynistic police officer?

Priest. No! The serial killer!

Wile. …Hannibal Lector?

Priest. No, the lotion guy.

Wile. Tom Cruise? He wasn’t in that movie.

Priest. No, not Tom Cruise, Ted Levine.

Wile. That obsessive compulsive detective?

Priest. You’re closer. The guy’s police captain.

Wile. The one who keeps yelling about how the mayor is on his back?

Priest. NO! THAT IS DIRTY HARRY.

Wile. I was not a fan of that movie.

Priest. What’s not to like?

Wile. Listen, I don’t have time for this.

Priest. Ok, ok. So…the guy with the night vision goggles.

SFX. Buzzer.

Wile. Ohh, sorry. Night vision goggles was one of the prohibited words.

Priest. WE ARE NOT PLAYING TABOO.

Wile. Oh, right, sorry.

Priest. So you were saying.

Wile. Well, anyway, so that’s my confession. I’m a reverse furry. What do I do?

Priest. Well…normally I would recommend some kind of combination of hail maries and drinking entire liters of holy water. However, this being a special case and you being fairly repentant about the whole mess, I think I can prescribe 40 horribly painful bee welts.

Wile. How would that help? And where would I get the bees?

Priest. Pain will bring you knowledge and repentance.

Wile. Why is it that your religion is so fixated on causing pain to its followers?

Priest. Remind me, did you come to me for help on how make you feel better about your troubles?

Wile. Fair enough. I’ll go get some Acme bees.

Priest. Fantastic. But before you go

Wile. Yes?

Priest. There’s just something I’ve always wanted to know.

Wile. I suppose I owe you that.

Priest. What the hell did that roadrunner DO to you?

Wile. Well…see, the story behind that is that the roadrunner was the most beautiful of all roadrunners, so naturally I wanted to eat him. So I tricked him into letting me catch him by flattering his sense of physical beauty. Then I caught him. So I was walking back to my den when he then flattered me for my ability to catch him and then he was able to escape. After he escaped and hid in a tree I asked him politely several times to come down but he didn’t. I’ve been chasing him ever since.

Priest. That is an incredibly dull story.

Wile. I imagine that’s why I didn’t tell you until you asked.

Priest. Good luck with your life.

Wile. Thanks. Good luck with yours.

Priest. I need to go catch a cab…

SFX. Fade out My God.

Priest. And then I was knocked out by a eurotrash cab driver with a blackjack made of a roll of nickels and some scotch tape and I woke up in this cab.

(Beat.)

Merchant. Can I tell my story now?

Priest. Go ahead.

Fluid. Make my day.

Merchant. I don’t see a problem with that.

Priest. I do. That’ll be 40 hail maries.

Fluid. I’m not Catholic.

Priest. And I’m not a priest.

(Beat.)

SFX. Fade in Killing Me Softly.

Merchant. The other day, I was back in Venice, Florida. I guess you could call me the merchant of Florida!

Fluid. Wouldn’t it be better as the Merchant of Venice?

(Beat.)

Merchant. …Shut up!

Fluid. Great comeback.

Merchant. So I met a crazy British man. He said his name was Phil Collins.

Fluid. Oh, god, really?

Merchant. Why, do you know him? Seemed like a fairly nondescript fellow to me.

Fluid. Didn’t he do the business with all the wigs and voices?

Merchant. You mean his wife? Lovely lady, that Phyllis.

Fluid. 1. He’s Phil Collins, B. He’s insane!

Merchant. Not at all! He’s a shrewd businessman. See, it all started when I tried to sell used cars to him.

Fluid. Used cars? As in plural?

Merchant. Just listen to the story. So, my friend came to me and was all like…

Bassania. Can I borrow some money? I’m totally trying to trick this rich chick into marrying me. You know, because gay marriage was just passed here in Venice, Florida.

Merchant. Wait, seriously?!

Bassania. Yeah, it was all over the national news. Did you not hear?

Merchant. I was busy selling used cars to children.

Bassania. For, like, a week straight?

Merchant. I needed a lot of money to support my risky stock market investment habit.

Bassania. Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that…

Merchant. Will you marry me?

(Beat.)

Bassania. (Laughs hysterically.) Oh! That’s brilliant. Now, can I have the money?

Merchant. Uh, sure. How much did you want?

Bassania. Three thousand ducats should do.

Merchant. That’s antiquated Italian currency.

Bassania. Oh. Then I’ll take twenty thousand dollars and your finest used car.

Merchant. Twenty thousand and the 1970 Chevy Chevelle it is. We in the business call it a “kind-of-pimp-mobile.” Because, see, it’s actually not a very nice car.

(Beat.)

Bassania. Yeah, thanks, buddy.

Merchant. I was on top of the world! I planned to woo my fair Bassania into my bedchamber once she realized that her potential rich wife was probably some Paris Hilton knockoff. She probably even had some sort of stupid name like Porsche or something.

Bassania. Oh, fair Portia, here I come!

Merchant. Close enough. Little did Bassania know, I didn’t have the twenty thousand dollars. I went to a nearby merchant’s to borrow my much-needed cash. I figured I could pay it back in a week as long as the stock market didn’t crash. So, I went to Phil Collins’s gutter shop.

Phil. You can call me Phillock! It’s me new Merchant name. You know, instead of Shylock. Get it? I’m making an obvious reference! Now, how exactly does one convert to Judaism? I hope I don’t have to do anything too complicated.

Merchant. That’s great, Phil. I have an offer for you: would you like three used cars for twenty thousand dollars?

Phil. That’s not exactly the value of three of your used cars. I don’t even know how to do math and I know they’re worth only about a dollar a piece.

Merchant. I know…but, I promise I can pay you back next week! I’ll even put in six more cars as collateral.

Phil. Six dollars does not equal twenty thousand dollars. I’m not sure exactly what fraction of that number it is, but I imagine it’s at most half as valuable.

Merchant. Something like that…so, what can I give you?

Phil. A pound of turkey!

(Beat.)

Merchant. That’s all? Seriously?

Phil. Turkey is what people are made of, right?

Merchant. No, not at all…

Phil. Oh. Well, I’d like a pound of whatever people are made of if you can’t pay me back.

Merchant. But, where am I going to get a pound of flesh?

Phil. You can probably get it from The Home Depot. But if it’s not there, I’ll just take yours.

Merchant. Deal.

Phil. Hooray! I’ll wire the money to you over this tin can phone.

Merchant. Uh…

Phil. Or I could give you cash.

Merchant. I’ll take that, then. (Narrating.) I had already gotten myself in too deep. And, sadly, I had to deliver soon. Almost right after I gave Bassania the cash, she spent it all.

Bassania. So, with your cash advance I bought a mink snuggie as a gift for Portia. She loved it!

Merchant. But not enough to want to marry you, right? So, I can marry you?

Bassania. Well, she was actually obligated to marry me. Oh, here she is! Let’s let her explain.

SFX. Footsteps.

Portia. Oh, hey, honey! I’m back from the rest stop bathroom.

Bassania. Why were you–

Portia. Side job, we’ll discuss it later. Were you just explaining how I’m supposed to marry you?

Bassania. Yes, honey.

Portia. Well, when my daddy died he left me three metal boxes of different varieties. His will stipulated that two be filled with high explosives and the other a legal document to marry me. Only someone who could pick the right box could have my hand in marriage!

Bassania. Luckily, I work for the bomb squad.

Portia. And luckily I already had low standards.

Bassania. So we got hitched over at the casino!

Portia. Every additional time you get married there you get an extra 30% discount on the priest.

Bassania. I’m not sure ours was even really a priest.

Portia. Point is, seventh marriage is a charm!

Merchant. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Bassania. What’s wrong?

Merchant. Oh. Nothing.

(Beat.)

SFX. Text message.

Merchant. Oh, hey, it’s a text from my stock broker: “the market crashed. Also I’m not really a stock broker. Sucka!”

(Beat.)

Merchant. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

SFX. Footsteps.

Portia. Oh mah gah, it’s Phil Collins!

Phil. Oh, hello there! I’m Phillock, the local gutter salesman. Nice to meet you, Bassania’s prostitute.

Portia. Wife.

Phil. Same difference. Now, Antonina, where’s my twenty million dollars?

Merchant. I only owed you twenty thousand!

Phil. How does interest work?

Merchant NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Bassania. Wait, you borrowed money for me?! Why didn’t you tell me?

Merchant. BECAUSE I WANTED YOU TO LOVE ME FOR MY GOOD ATTRIBUTES!!!

Bassania. But, wouldn’t that mean I’d be loving you for your money?

Merchant. I’m a merchant…money is our best attribute! (Sobs.)

Portia. Wait! I know how to fix all this!

Phil. Me too!

SFX. Cleaver.

Phil. I brought this meat cleaver what with to get me some flesh! I think I’d like a new kidney if that’s okay, Antonina.

Portia. No, no, no! I’m certified by the New Jersey bar association. So, I can defend Antonina in court!

Bassania. Your license appears to say you’re licensed by the New Jersey battenders association.

Phil. Same difference. What kind of a chance do you think I have in court against you?

Portia. Would you believe it if I told you none?

Phil. Of course! What kind of settlement do I owe you?

Portia. Well, you’ll have to divorce any spouses.

Phil. Already done at least once daily.

Portia. And I’m afraid you’ll have to renounce Judaism.

Phil. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Merchant. Did that really just happen that fast?

Portia. I’m a very good lawyer.

Merchant. Wait…this gives me a brilliant plan! (Narrating.) Sadly, a week later the stock market crashed again and my brilliant “invest in lawyers” plan lost me all my money again. I guess my ultimate point is, can I have some food? I’m very hungry.

SFX. Break noise.

Gustav. We’re here! Everybody out!

Merchant. Can I have some food?

Gustav. Food is like…so unchill, bro. Have some of this.

Priest. Those are illegal substances!

Merchant. I’d love to, but I quit a long time ago. See, I used to sell that, but then I broke the principal rule.

Fluid. Don’t get high on your own supply?

Merchant. No. I before E except after C.

Fluid. That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, and those are pixie sticks.

Gustav. Yah! I love the orange ones!

Priest. Blasphemy! Repent, sinner, and eat only raspberry!

SFX. Gunshot.

Gustav. I’m sorry I had to do that, but that was like, so unchill, bro.

Merchant. You shot a priest! That is so illegal!

Gustav. No, man…I like…no I didn’t.

Merchant. Yes you did!

Gustav. No…man…like. It’s like whatever.

Merchant. It is not like whatever! It is like aggravated homicide and kidnapping!

Gustav. What are you going to do, like…shot me?

Merchant. You’re the one with the gun!

Gustav. Oh right.

SFX. Gunshot.

Fluid. So…you didn’t shoot a priest?

Gustav. What? No. I didn’t shoot a priest, bro, that would be like…so unchill.

Fluid. I know you didn’t.

Gustav. No man…like, I didn’t do it. He did.

Fluid. I know you didn’t…I’m playing along.

Gustav. Look man, like…I’ve taken my share of like…lives man. Like this one time at Armani Exchange they were having a sale…

SFX. Flashback. Techno (Moskau)

Gustav. Hey, man…like…don’t take those pants. That would be like…so unchill bro.

(Beat.)

Gustav. Ok, like, you asked for it bro.

(Beat.)

Gustav. Ok man. That is it. I am getting like the ugly. I am moving to America and like, drive taxi.

SFX. De-Flashback, fade music down but not out completely.

Gustav. So you see, man, I am animal. You like, shouldn’t cross me.

Fluid. I didn’t want to.

Gustav. Say hello to like, my little friend.

Fluid. Just let me go!

SFX. 6 gunshots.

(Beat.)

Fluid. Well I didn’t expect that. I guess I should get out.

Gustav. No man, that’s like ok, can you stay with me in like, my final moments.

Fluid. No.

Gustav. There won’t be many of them because I shot myself like, six times. (Gurgly death.)

Fluid. That’s like so unchill, bro. So it looks like we parked at a discotheque. I guess I should see what’s inside.

SFX. Car door. Footsteps. Moskau fades up. Doors. Moskau becomes really loud.

Fluid. Hey, does anyone in this discotheque know how to get to Milton Bradley?

SFX. Record scratch. Everyone gasps.

Fluid. Did I say something bad? Oh! I should have read the sign, it’s upstairs. Can someone tell me what their hours are? I don’t want to intrude during their lunch or anything.

Humpty. Now hold on just one moment.

Dumpty. We can’t just let you waltz in there.

Humpty. You need to pass a test.

Dumpty. A test to determine if you’re worthy.

Humpty. But not like that stupid test.

Dumpty. That test with the cab driver.

Fluid. How did you know about that?

Dumpty. We have many listening devices.

Humpty. We keep a microphone in your breakfast cereal.

Dumpty. We’re you’re biggest fans.

Humpty. I’m wearing a vial of your dirty bathwater around my neck.

Dumpty. Ok, that went a little far.

Humpty. I want to be a part of you.

Dumpty. Or perhaps it didn’t go far enough.

Humpty. I made a latex mask out of your face while you were asleep.

Dumpty. Sometimes I wear it to make Humpty happy.

Humpty. Dumpty doesn’t like to do it. But, I’m bored of her.

Fluid. Can I just go upstairs?

Dumpty. NO, YOU WILL LISTEN TO OUR RELATIONSHIP PROBLEMS.

Humpty. You will be our own personal Ann Landers.

Dumpty. She eats cookies in the bed.

Humpty. Yeah, well she likes to get ants involved in happy time.

Dumpty. I just think they might want to live in the sand castle too!

Humpty. Cactus Fantastico needs no friends, only sand!

Dumpty. Cactus Fantastico is a stupid character!

Humpty. Don’t insult Cactus Fantastico! He is the greatest character in the Western canon!

Fluid. I think you may have more serious issues than the pretend folks you make up to populate your sand castles.

Dumpty. SHUT UP!

Humpty. Well do you like the character?

Fluid. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.

Dumpty. I hate him.

Fluid. I think you’re using a fictional character to escape your relationship problems.

Humpty. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.

Dumpty. Is our favorite play.

Fluid. It’s mine too! That doesn’t mean you should base your life off of it.

Humpty. We will consider it.

Dumpty. We don’t understand the difference between fact and fiction.

Humpty. I have a better grasp of it

Dumpty. Than I do.

Humpty. See, one time.

Dumpty. We were working here.

Humpty. And our favorite person.

Dumpty. Eggbert.

Humpty. Got really drunk.

Dumpty. Then he stood on that barstool.

Fluid. The one suspended from the ceiling?

Humpty. Then he fell off.

Dumpty. And cracked his head open.

Humpty. It was a really big fall.

Dumpty. We tried to put his brains back in.

Humpty. But sadly we didn’t have enough horses to complete.

Dumpty. The job.

Humpty. So then we had a psychotic break.

(Pause.)

Fluid. Can I go upstairs now?

SFX. Gunshots.

Fluid. Why is everyone doing that today?

Humpty. She shot me!

Dumpty. I shot her!

Humpty. Then I shot you!

Dumpty. I was getting to…

Humpty. That….

(Simultaneous gurgly deaths.)

Fluid. I am going to have more nightmares than Stephen King.

SFX. Footsteps. Door.

Fluid. Oh Milton Bradley corporation…is anybody here!?

President. Yes.

Fluid. AH! How did you do that?

President. Would you believe that I’m a vampire?

Fluid. Of course not. Vampires are fictional.

President. But can’t you see I’m sparkling?

Fluid. You appear to have poured a cup of glitter on yourself.

President. Thank you for your market research in the viability of a vampire board game. It will prove invaluable to our R&D team. Now what can I help you with.

Fluid. I’m here for an operator’s license for a radio station. Since you own the rights to the game Operation, I figured you’d be the right people to go to.

President. Well, as the president of this company, I’m afraid I just don’t have that kind of power.

Fluid. I promise I won’t touch the sides.

President. Very well…you can talk to our…um…janitor!

Carla. I know you’re not talking about me.

President. Holy crap it’s One-Eyed Carla!

Carla. I’m very sensitive about being a Cyclops!

President. Oh gee, look at the time!

SFX. Dashes away.

Fluid. Huh…so can you help me?

Carla. Oh…that…sure…just follow me. I’ll write that certificate for you in my office.

Fluid. Oh thanks.

Carla. No problem. Step into my office.

Fluid. Don’t you mean parlor?

Carla. No.

Fluid. Said the…spider…

SFX. Squelch.

Fluid. You hit me with your mop!

Carla. So let’s see…a certificate for…operating farm equipment?

Fluid. No. A radio station operator’s license.

Carla. Ok…let me just pull up MS Paint.

Fluid. MS Paint?

Carla. It’s what the pros use.

Fluid. I guess.

SFX. Printer noise.

Carla. Here you go. One certificate for operating a station.

Fluid. This certificate certifies that I am a potty trained young man.

Carla. You can run a radio station with that qualification, right?

Fluid. I guess.

Carla. Can I go now?

Fluid. Why are you being so unhelpful? And what happened to your eye?

Carla. See, back in ‘Nam…

SFX. Flashback.

Carla. My gun’s jammed, sarge!

Sarge. Shut up! Back in the Korean War, we didn’t have guns. We had dirt, and we liked it!

SFX. Flashback.

Sarge. Oh cripes! My dirt’s jammed!

Carla. Put a sock in it! Back in WW2, we didn’t have dirt, we had shoes, and we liked it.

SFX. Flashback.

Carla. Sarge! My shoes are broken!

Sarge. Quiet! Back in the Crimean War, we didn’t have shoes, we had upstart young nurses keen on exposing our corruption, and we liked it.

SFX. Flashback.

Sarge. I’m getting really sick of this lady.

Carla. Shut the bollocks up! Back in the War of Spanish Succession, we didn’t have Florence Nightingales, we had pirates, but we liked it!

SFX. Flashback.

Carla. Avast! The lady is sinking! Water be flooding up to the poop deck!

Sarge. Clam up, bilge rat! Back in the French and Indian War, we didn’t have water, we had native Americans, and we liked ‘em!

SFX. Flashback.

Sarge. Wait, how many wars have you been in?

Carla. I could ask the same of you. Let’s see…

(They trade off going down the list.)

War of Northern Aggression
War of Jenkins’ Ear
Metacom’s War
Spanish Armada invasion
Spanish Conquest of America
War of the Roses
100-years War
Sack of Constantinople
Invasion of the Mongols
3rd Crusade
Battle of Hastings
Viking Raids
Fall of the Roman Empire
Invasion of the Huns
Sack of Jerusalem
Punic Wars
Battle of Gaugamela
Pellenor Fields
Helm’s Deep
Breaking of the Fellowship
The Last Alliance
Fall of Gondolin
Battle of Sudden Flame
Theft of the Silmarils
Thermopylae
Battle of Marathon
Invasion of the Dorians
Trojan War
L.A. Riots
The Battle of Sector 001
Beating of Rodney King
Bloods and Crips
Biggie and Tupac Feud
Fall of Babylon
Fall of Sumeria

Sarge. Oh yeah?! Well back at the Big Bang…

SFX. Flashback.

Sarge. Oh…I guess this was the first…uh…(pause) back in ‘Nam!

SFX. De-flashback.

Carla. So yeah.

Fluid. But this isn’t ‘Nam.

Carla. Thank you for using the Milton Bradley Flashback Machine. That will be 25 cents.

Fluid. But I only have a dime.

Carla. Self-destruct sequence initiated.

SFX. Explosion.

Fluid. So many nightmares…of…so many body parts in so many states of fluidity…

(Beat.)

Fluid. Join us again on Thursdays at 8AM for the conclusion of Now Are The Twyzzlers Of Our Discontent!

All. CAN’T READ MY POKERFACE.