I want a job where I can write old-time radio show scripts.
Sepulchral Announcer: Meet Chauncey J. Phillips: restauranteur… pianist…. WOULD-BE MURDERER. Chauncey J. Phillips THOUGHT he could get away with ANYTHING. But he couldn’t… because crime doesn’t pay… Especially for Chauncey J. Phillips… once he entered… the [echoing] INNER WHISTLING SHADOW SANCTUM!!! What an [echoing] IDIOT… IDIOT… IDIOT…
[SFX: Traffic noises, office machinery, a man frantically pacing, all created by playing a 78 rpm TRAFFIC NOISES, OFFICE MACHINERY, NERVOUS PACING sound effects record.]
First Guy: Phillips! What are you doing there, standing by that water cooler and bookshelf with a revolver loaded with five bullets!?!
Second Guy: SIX bullets, Williams (pause) SIX bullets. (pause) Now sit over there in that chair. The one by the mynah boid.
Mynah Bird, Voiced by the First Guy: Awk! Polly wants a cracker! Awk!
Second Guy: Shaddup, boid… All right, youse miserable, filthy stoolie, dirty dog bum! Here’s what’s youse gots coming to youse!
[SFX: Six gunshots created by whacking a trash can lid with a croquet mallet.]
First: Urrrgh… You… Got me… Phillips… But you’ll… never…
Second: Youse got what was coming to youse, Williams… Consider that a Valentine from…
First Guy: …get… away…
Second Guy: …a Valentine from Boss Ril…
First Guy: …with… this…
Second Guy: Uh… that’s right, Williams… A Valentine from Boss Riley. He sends his…
First Guy: …deplorable… crime… you… scala… wag…
[SFX: Loud thump of body hitting ground, created by loading a potato sack with sponsor-provided noodles and gelatin and throwing it against a slab of terrazzo.]
Second Guy: …regards, ya stinking chatty-Kathy galoshes-eater. Now to wipe away all my fingerprints with this silk handkerchief!
[SFX: Wiping sound created by wiping a bald man’s head with a silk handkerchief.]
Mynah Bird: Awk! A Valentine from Boss Riley! Awk!
Second Guy: What the? That boid knows everything!
Mynah Bird: Chauncey J. Phillips of 1253 Maple Lane shot Reginald Von Williams IV with an Ivor Johnson revolver. The bullets came at a 45 degree angle, indicating Phillips is a man of average height! Awk! Cracker!
Second Guy: Shaddup, youse boid! Shaddup! I’ll fix YOUSE, by shooting youse with my revolver!
[SFX: Several clicks created by clicking a clicker.]
Mynah Bird: Awk! SIX bullets! Awk!
Second Guy: Dadblasted crazy-making goony-boid! I’ll strangulate youse! Ding-dong gum-chewing creep! Fooey on youse whole scummy boid family… What th’!?! Youse flew up to that statue of Hammurabi, maker of laws. When I gets my hands on youse…
Mynah Bird: Awk! Phillips motive is apparently profit-based! Awk! He acted as a triggerman for Boss Riley! Awk! $1,000 was recently filed in Phillips’ off-shore bank account! Awk!
Second Guy: Lemme just stand up on this reproduction of the 10 Commandments, then I’ll reach youse. I’m gonna turn youse into my Thanksgiving turkey! Ungh! Ungh!
Mynah Bird: Awk! Blood spattering indicates the decedent expired at 4:04 p.m. Contents of his stomach showed that decedent consumed a spinach calzone! Awk! Pieces of eight!
Second guy: Youse is gonna lead them right back to my Italian restaurant, youse miserable boid! Right after I hold onto this painting of Nemesis, Greek goddess of retribution, to steady myself, I’m gonna… What? I’m losing my grip! I’m falling now, and all the nearby art representing the law, retribution, and revenge will smack me in the head. Aggh! I’m only five inches from the floor, and mere moments from my death! Youse lousy boid!
[SFX: Body hitting the ground followed by a series of objets d’art crushing a human skull to a bloody pulp, created by playing Naked City’s debut album, Naked City.]
Mynah Bird: Awk! Ironic! Awk!
Sepulchral Announcer: CRIME. DOESN’T. PAY. And, Mom… Use Gelatin brand gelatin for all your eating, cleaning, and douching needs. GELATIN. IT’S MADE FROM COLLAGEN.
[SFX: Closing theme music, created by orchestra playing closing theme music.]