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Rocket, v. 1, issue 1, March 1940
Page 25
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25 Silas: Have you no heart, Tobias Flint? I'll go Mirandi. (SILAS OPENS THE AIRLOCK AND LETS ESMERELDI IN OUT OF THE HAIL) Esmereldi: Helo Ma. Hello Pa. It's me in the flesh, home and ---- well if it isn't the UNKNOWN chisler Tobias Flint. Tobias: Enough of this nonsense. I'm here to collect the money due me. I hold the MORTgage on the old ROCKET ship and you all know my motto, 'Pay up or (THE LISTENING AUDIENCE MAY JOIN IN THIS CHORUS). Esmereldi: Listen, skin Flint, how much is this MORTgage you're so upset about? Tobias: $25.00 with an interest of 3 SUPER SCIENCE coupons. VOICE: What! No sales tax? Esmereldi: Here's your money and your coupons, now get out of here and never darken our visiscreen again, or I'll blast you into a full circulation of GOLDEN ATOMs. Tobias: CURSES! Foiled again. EXITS (note; back way) Mirandi: Where in the name of ADAM LINK did you get all that money? Esmereldi: Well, the prodigal daughter's been knocking 'em dead at the SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION. VOICE: Some knock I'll say. Esmereldi: Why the worried look on your face, Pa? Mirandi: I guess your Pa's worried about the same thing I am. Esmereldi: Well, what's all the furse about? Silas: Esmereldi -- Are you -- what I mean to say is -- 'er' ---- are you a good girl, Esmereldi? Esmereldi: Listen Pa, when you can get twenty-five dollars in this day and age you got to be good... (ORCHESTRA TAG: IT AIN'T WHAT YOU DO IT'S THE WAY YOU DO IT) Announcer: And that, my friends was the first, and evidently, the last performance of the Transplutonian Dramatic Stock Company in the wrong dramatic play. For those who plan to re-present this little gem of a play, we strongly advise fumigation of the playhouse at regular periods. Any similarity to actual persons, whether living or SCIENCE FICTIONists is purely -- FLASH -- Ladies and gentlemen, the playwright just disappeared towards the star Vega, the cast close on his heels. For the future of this program, consult your daily newspaper's death column. Thanks for listenin'. ............................................ THE HINT BY Roger Dishington Oh, I go hunting every day, / With a ray-gun, by the way. / I hunt the fly, get him at bay. / With a single splat, he's in dismay. / One day a fly sat on my nose, / Just to annoy me, I suppose. / I reached for my ray-gun to lose him not, / For he was a demon and due to be caught. / I fired. I missed. Where can he be? / The rascal has eluded me. / Ah, there he is upon a beaker, / He appears to be strong, but me much weaker. / Into a test tube; down through a coil, / The job to get him was really toil. / That night as on the couch I lay, / The house a mess I'll have to say. / But that's all right, I got the fly, / And I'll get another by and by.
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25 Silas: Have you no heart, Tobias Flint? I'll go Mirandi. (SILAS OPENS THE AIRLOCK AND LETS ESMERELDI IN OUT OF THE HAIL) Esmereldi: Helo Ma. Hello Pa. It's me in the flesh, home and ---- well if it isn't the UNKNOWN chisler Tobias Flint. Tobias: Enough of this nonsense. I'm here to collect the money due me. I hold the MORTgage on the old ROCKET ship and you all know my motto, 'Pay up or (THE LISTENING AUDIENCE MAY JOIN IN THIS CHORUS). Esmereldi: Listen, skin Flint, how much is this MORTgage you're so upset about? Tobias: $25.00 with an interest of 3 SUPER SCIENCE coupons. VOICE: What! No sales tax? Esmereldi: Here's your money and your coupons, now get out of here and never darken our visiscreen again, or I'll blast you into a full circulation of GOLDEN ATOMs. Tobias: CURSES! Foiled again. EXITS (note; back way) Mirandi: Where in the name of ADAM LINK did you get all that money? Esmereldi: Well, the prodigal daughter's been knocking 'em dead at the SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION. VOICE: Some knock I'll say. Esmereldi: Why the worried look on your face, Pa? Mirandi: I guess your Pa's worried about the same thing I am. Esmereldi: Well, what's all the furse about? Silas: Esmereldi -- Are you -- what I mean to say is -- 'er' ---- are you a good girl, Esmereldi? Esmereldi: Listen Pa, when you can get twenty-five dollars in this day and age you got to be good... (ORCHESTRA TAG: IT AIN'T WHAT YOU DO IT'S THE WAY YOU DO IT) Announcer: And that, my friends was the first, and evidently, the last performance of the Transplutonian Dramatic Stock Company in the wrong dramatic play. For those who plan to re-present this little gem of a play, we strongly advise fumigation of the playhouse at regular periods. Any similarity to actual persons, whether living or SCIENCE FICTIONists is purely -- FLASH -- Ladies and gentlemen, the playwright just disappeared towards the star Vega, the cast close on his heels. For the future of this program, consult your daily newspaper's death column. Thanks for listenin'. ............................................ THE HINT BY Roger Dishington Oh, I go hunting every day, / With a ray-gun, by the way. / I hunt the fly, get him at bay. / With a single splat, he's in dismay. / One day a fly sat on my nose, / Just to annoy me, I suppose. / I reached for my ray-gun to lose him not, / For he was a demon and due to be caught. / I fired. I missed. Where can he be? / The rascal has eluded me. / Ah, there he is upon a beaker, / He appears to be strong, but me much weaker. / Into a test tube; down through a coil, / The job to get him was really toil. / That night as on the couch I lay, / The house a mess I'll have to say. / But that's all right, I got the fly, / And I'll get another by and by.
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