Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy

Crashin' at Oxymoron's Crib

February 08, 2022
Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy
Crashin' at Oxymoron's Crib
Show Notes Transcript

“Crashin’ at Oxymoron’s Crib,” Episode 27

Gneeecey has grudgingly agreed to allow fellow canine-humanoid Sooperflea, AKA Flea, and Nicki to stay the night in his lookalike pet puppy Oxymoron’s four hundred-fourteenth floor Seemingwhales Towers condo. Nicki awakens the next morning, disoriented, aching, freezing, and not very happy with her life. 

Longing for a nice hot shower, Nicki is in for another rude awakening—Gneeecey had designed the condo’s Lilliputian bathroom for tiny Oxymoron, AKA Spot. 

Then, scarlet-caped good guy Flea judges Nicki too weak to attempt a dimension jump back to Earth—doing so could kill her. Adding insult to injury, an occasional chair has decided not to be a chair, throwing Nicki when she lowers herself to sit. 

Meanwhile, Gneeecey finds himself on the receiving end when it comes to some karmic justice.

We thank Marysol Rodriguez, Sandi Solá, Sal Solá, Marcellina Ramirez, Rick “El Molestoso” Rivera, Diane L., and Toni Aponte for being generous supporting members via! We appreciate their sponsorship and support more than words can say! (Please support us with a one-time gift or monthly sponsorship amount—various levels available—to help keep us coming to you via! We’ll shout you out during our podcast episodes and in our show notes here, plus supply you with more fun perks!) (Amazon Author Page, check out our Gneeecey/Nicki e-books and paperbacks!) (Interview with Vicki Solá) (right here, our Buzzsprout website w/episodes & transcripts!)   

And much thanks to disproportionately cool artist Jay Hudson for our podcast logo!

This Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy podcast is made possible in part by a generous grant from The Ardelle Institute, providing Executive Coaching for aspiring and established professionals who want to develop their careers, including upwardly-mobile executives, professionals who may be in between jobs, and college graduates transitioning to the workforce.  The Ardelle Institute helps with resumes, cover letters, LinkedIn profiles, interview skills, and effective job search strategies.  For more information, please call (201) 394-6939, that's (201) 394-6939, or visit them on the web at, that's A-R-D-E-L-L-E dash institute dot com. Take it from me, Gneeecey!

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Transcript / “Crashin’ at Oxymoron’s Crib,” written by Vicki Solá. 

All content © 2022 Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy.

 Music/Intro: Hi there, I’m author and radio host Vicki Solá, welcoming you to Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy. I invite you to escape with me into the bizarre dimension of Perswayssick County, where wackiness rules! The laughs begin when I morph into my alter ego, radio DJ Nicki Rodriguez and clash with the zany, alien canine-humanoid Gneeecey!

And now, I turn it over to my other self, Nicki….

SFX: [Magic Spell] [Door Opens]

[Birthday party for Grandma, singing Happy Birthday: Nicki, Dr. Idnas, Autumn Raines]

INGABORE SCRIBLIG, AKA “GRANDMA”: Tank you, tank you, Alexandra, Nicki, and Autumn! Happy Birtday to me! Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha!

DOCTOR ALEXANDRA C. IDNAS: You are so vary velcome, Ingabore! I’m so glad vee could make your day special!

NICKI RODRIGUEZ: Me too! Happy Birthday, Grandma!

AUTUMN RAINES: We are absolutely delighted that we’ve succeeded in surprising you!

G: Yah, Autumn, you most certainly did, and dis cake looks delicious! 

(N): Ah, yes, my GAS Broadcast Network colleague Autumn Raines and I had stopped by right before my appointment at the Perswayssick City offices of Neurologist/Neuropsychologist Doctor Alexandra C. Idnas and therapist Ingabore Scriblig, the latter who preferred to be called “Grandma.” It was Grandma’s birthday, and the three of us had decided to surprise her with a cake—a humongous three-tiered whipped cream masterpiece decorated with strawberries.

G: I vill now blow out dee candles—all vun-tousand of dem! Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha!

DI, N, A: Yay! SFX: [Clapping]

G: Pretty good, eh? Blew dem all out on my first try!

SFX: [Clapping] [clinking coins] [belch]

G: Vhat vas dat?

N: The cake—it’s freakin’ moving!

DI: Vhat in dee vurld ees happening here?

AR: Crikey! It’s a giant whipped cream monster sporting a rather enormous strawberry on its large head!

SFX: [Kazoo: end of “Happy Birthday”] 

GNEEECEY: Hapoopy Hatchday to Graaandma! Uh-oh—ah, hah, haah, fiduciary! SFX: [Clinking Coins] [Belch] ’Scuze me! Heh, hah, heh haah! An’ sorry I sneezed dimes all over your cake! Don’t worry, I’ll pick ’em all up!

IS: Diroctor Gneeecey!

(N:) I sighed. It was none other than the elbow-high, walking, talking, white-and-black Jack Russell canine-humanoid, Diroctor Bizzig “Zig” Gneeecey. My GAS Broadcast Network boss and Perswayssick County’s leader. Up to more tricks….

G: Yeah, Graaandma, it’s meee! An’ by the way, youse peopoople wasted lotsa igspensive vowels an’ consonants here by putting her full name “Ingabore Scriblig” on this cake, insteada jus’ “Graaandma”! Youse spent six vowels an’ ten consonants when ya only needed to spend two vowels an’ five consonants! Youse huuumans failed miseraboobly to conservate letters!

DI: Doctor Gneeecey, vhat are you doing here?

G: That’s Diroctor Gneeecey, Doctor Idnas—rememboober? I’m a lousy doctor an’ county director! An’ what’re you doin’ here, Doctor Idnas! I’m here to wish my therapoopist Graaandma a happy stinkin’ hatchday—looky, even brung my concert kazoo! An’, Autumn Raines, what’re yoooou doin’ here? Why ain’t ya at work, getting’ another headache an’ more ulcers in our GAS Broadcast Network offices? 

AR: For the very same reason you’re not! I’m here to convey birthday wishes to our dear Grandma!

G: How ironical. Now, Autumn, you’re a stinkin’ GAS producer! Ya need to get back to the office! Prompooptly! Ya got guests an’ other junk to coordinate for our public affairs program “Catchin’ Up Wit’ My Tail”! An’ I didn’t know that you knew Graaandma, too!

AR: Why, affirmative, Diroctor Gneeecey. I’ve been acquainted with Grandma for quite some time now. The, uh, hardship and stress of working for you have necessitated my attending her therapy sessions quite regularly. 

G: Well, you’re gonna find out what real, regoogular stress is if ya don’t get back to the office—right now! An’ I ain’t payin’ for your sessions here, neitherwise. Uh-oh! Ah, hah, haah, fiduciary! SFX: [Clinking Coins]

IS: Vell, tank you eweryone for dee birthday vishes and dis beautiful, gigantic cake—vell, it vas a beautiful cake until Diroctor Gneeecey here jumped out of it and sneezed all over it!

DI: Yah. Vhat a shame! And Diroctor Gneeecey, you are still sneezing dimes!

G: Don’t worry, Doctor Idnas, I’ll dig ’em all outta this here cake, every laaast one, so I can deposit ’em in my rapoopidly overflowin’ savings account. Stummix Bank might even gimme another promotional pair of them beaudiful boxer briefs, y’know, them really claaassy ones, polka-dotted with dimes! Then I don’t gotta keep wearin’ the same ones every day!

DI: Diroctor, dat ees not exactly vhat vorries us—

G: Good, then youse got no worries ’cept for the fact that the dopey huuuman Vicki Solá forgot to thank all these people again. I’ll stinkin’ do it—got her list right here. SFX: [Rustling Papers] I wanna thank Marysol Rodriguez, Sal Solá, Sandi Solá, Marcellina Ramirez, Rick “El Molestoso” Rivera, Diane L., and Toni Aponte for bein’ generous supportin’ members of “Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy” through An’ I’m still waitin’ for my lousy cuppa coffee? Who’s at fault here? An’ it better be Freak O’Nature Merk Perk coffee—the only coffee ya can eat wit’ a knife an’ fork! Goes great wit’ cake! SFX: [Mud Splash] [Duck Horn] Uh-oh, jus’ fell on my stinkin’ bimbus here—

IS: Yah, right into my poor cake—you’re sitting in it!

G: Sorry, Graaandma! Anyone want a piece?

SFX: [Fail Horn] [Magic Spell]

IS: Vhat a mess! 

DI: Yah—After Gneeecey ate his vay out of dis poor cake, scooped up all his dimes, and ran out dee door, he looked like a vhip cream-covered nightmare! Vearing red high-top sneakers!

IS: Vell, Nicki and Autumn, tank you both for helping us clean up dis colossal mess!

N: No problem, Grandma. I’m just so sorry that Gneeecey ruined your cake!

AR: It is my sincere intention to purchase another such cake from Shisskey’s Bakery—and this time, I’ll charge it to our GAS Network account. The boss will never find out! Now, I had better return to the office! 

IS: Tank you so much, Autumn. You’re dee best!

DI: Tank you, Autumn.

N: See you later, Autumn, back in the old un-okay corral.

AR: Righto, Nicki! Toodles, everyone!

SFX: [Door Close] 

DI: Now, Nicki, dat dee mess ees cleaned up, it’s time for dis veek’s therapy session.

IS:  Yah. Let’s pick up vhere vee left off. Vee are making such significant progress as your dimension burn-damaged memory ees returning, and you are recalling in chronological order the traumatic experience of how you first arrived in our dimension of Persvayssick County.

DI: Yah, you vere headed for your first vacation in five years, a veekend avay at dee Jersey shore. You said dere vas a big explosion and you vound up here in Persvayssick County. And Gneeecey’s friend Sooperflea, another canine-humanoid like him, rescued you and your car right vhen you vere pushed off dee Persvayssick River Bridge by some invisible force.

IS: Yah, and Sooperflea vas wery nice, he befriended you. He drove you to Gneeezle’s Restaurant, vhere you met our Gneeecey. 

N: Yep, Grandma. Sooperflea, or Flea, as his friends call him, saved my life—actually zoomed beneath my car before it sailed off the bridge! Then he drove me to this restaurant owned by his best friend, Gneeecey. A place where there were really only inedible foods—rocks, sautéed nuts and bolts, stewed athletic socks, and this yucky pizza topped with chicken-flavored ice cream. And that night, I accidentally broke one of the restaurant’s puke-pink plastic fake Greek columns—all I did was touch it lightly, with one finger! And I’m still paying Gneeecey for it, working overtime at his GAS Broadcast Network and part-time at his dumpy restaurant!

DI: And you vere given some very upsetting news dere, dat first night. 

N: Yes, Doctor Idnas. Flea had promised to get me back home—to the Garden State Parkway—on my Earth’s New Jersey, not this Perswaysssick County dimension’s New Jersey. 

DI: And vhy didn’t he?

N: [sighs] Flea said he’d been observing me all night and that I wasn’t strong enough to attempt a return home, back to my dimension. He said I was too weak and that trying to go back could kill me. He and Gneeecey mentioned this guy from my planet, a guy named Julio, who was never heard from again after he dimension-jumped too soon. 

IS: So, den vhat happened, Nicki?

N: Well, Grandma, Flea asked Gneeecey if he and I could stay the night at his place. Gneeecey became very angry. Then Flea started to bring up some incident where he saved Gneeecey’s, well, bimbus, as they seem to put it. 

IS: Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha!

DI: Yah, dat is how dey call, you know, vhat dey sit on!

N: So, when Flea brought that up, Gneeecey became even angrier, then grudgingly agreed to let Flea and me stay in his dog Oxymoron’s four hundred-fourteenth floor condo in Seemingwhale Towers. Up there, Gneeecey made us some of that, uh, Freak O’Nature solid coffee, then he had a meltdown. He told us about being bullied during his school days on Planet Eccchs. He said they even set his precious propeller beanie on fire. I actually felt sorry for him. 

DI: Oh my, yah.

N: Then he became obnoxious again, bragged about how great he is. He also suddenly showed interest in my possessions that had fallen out of my windows as my car was flying off the bridge. And I feel that I’d given him too much information about my stuff. When he got ready to leave Flea and me there for the night, he deposited a wad of bills in poor Oxymoron’s mouth—he calls the pup “Spot,” y’know, to conserve vowels and consonants—and he instructed him not to spend all the money right away, and to be careful not to use too much electricity. And in particular, he ordered him to shut off the oversized air conditioner. He also told Oxymoron to call the office if he needed anything. I feel so sorry for that poor pup, living that way. The doorman there, this really creepy guy—Bogelthorpe is his name—feeds and walks him every day. 

DI: Ah, poor Oxymoron. He is dee spitting image of his owner, only he’s a regular dog! 

N: Yes, a tiny puppy, sweet and highly intelligent. I think Gneeecey substitutes material goods for love and companionship. I can’t understand why he doesn’t bring his pup home to live with him instead of leaving him all alone in that condo. Gneeecey actually brags that he enjoys the fun of pet ownership without having any of the responsibilities.

IS: Dat is our Gneeecey, I’m afraid….

IS: Yah….

N: So, like I said, Gneeecey was furious when he left us that night, even said that the whole thing about his hat being set on fire “happened to someone else.” And he just about slammed the door off its hinges when he left.

DI: Tell us vhat happened next, Nicki.

N: Okay, Doctor Idnas. You know, after Gneeecey left, I don’t even remember falling asleep or anything else before I woke up that next morning. Here goes….

SFX: [Magic Spell]

Morning’s light mounted a ravaging assault on my raw eyeballs. I’d fallen asleep on the floor, shoes still on. Awareness of my predicament trickled back in increments like a bitter wine poured slowly.  

I sighed and was startled to hear the sound of my own voice. The air conditioner still chugged away full blast—I felt like I’d spent the night camped out in a freezer. The fact that Gneeecey would end up paying for my goose-bumps almost made them tolerable. 

Several feet away, Flea snored vigorously. SFX: [Snoring] Gneeecey’s two-pound pet dog Oxymoron, also known as Spot, slept nestled underneath Flea’s fuzzy chin. The superhero’s occasional nose honks SFX: [Duck Horn] jolted the paw-twitching pup but didn’t wake him. 

The orange-and-purple tie-dyed curtains seemed more disturbed, drawing in and out with each guttural gust. SFX: [Snoring][Duck Horn]

As I forced myself into a sitting position, memories of that past Friday night rushed back. A client of mine, frog-voiced grade D performer, lounge lizard Maurice L’Orange needed two months of his radio programs prerecorded. All so he could grab his bad toupée and inflict his sour notes and matching personality on another unsuspecting group of ocean-faring hostages cruising to Alaska, Antarctica, or Arkansas. Somewhere starting with an “A.” All the while, he’d be broadcasting drivel-in-absentia on a nearby local radio station—thanks to me. . . because he was paying me to record and produce his show.

Well, he was supposed to be paying me. He still owed me a bundle. 

My eyes opened wide. Hadn’t L’Orange finally coughed up a whole bunch of cash? Cash that I’d brought with me? I felt the blood drain from my face. God help me, I couldn’t remember—I really, really didn’t know. . . . I did know that I had been desperate. Desperate to escape. To rethink my life. By the ocean, where, despite the painful memories, I knew I’d feel closest to my dad. I’d just about had enough of everything. Where I’d gotten the wacko notion I’d also have time to read a suitcase worth of books in a single weekend, I have no idea. 

Now, schools of headless goonafish were reading ’em, down at the bottom of the foul, extraterrestrial Perswayssick River. And spending the cash L’Orange had paid me, too?

Terrified that I’d lost my mind, I staggered over to the window. As I clutched at the drapes, they fell to the floor, rods and all, creating a clatter loud enough to rouse the dead. SFX: [Bang] The whole commotion elicited only a soft, high-pitched woof from Oxymoron. SFX: [Puppy Bark]

Four hundred-plus stories below, Perswayssick City’s main drag Murgatroyd Avenue bustled with pedestrians and a steady stream of cars, trucks, and motorcycles, all microbe-sized, from my vantage point, four hundred-fourteen floors up. Well, make that four hundred-thirteen. Gneeecey explained that they had skipped from four-twelve to four-fourteen because four-thirteen would’ve been bad luck….

Teary-eyed, I hoisted the psychedelic rags back into their brackets. The condo had been decorated by Gneeecey to match the décor in his Gneeezles Restaurant. I checked my watch. Still read that number that I won’t say now because it apparently caused the explosion that somehow catapulted me from my Earth into the unearthly dimension of Perswayssick County—and stranded me there! 

DI: Yah, Nicki. Vee do very much appreciate your not saying dose dangerous numbers aloud. 

N: Yes, Doctor Idnas, I’m being very careful. Anyway, after I put the, uh, drapes back up, I’d take that shower I’d been dying for, then wake Flea. We’d finally have that conversation he’d promised me but would put off each time I asked for answers. The one about my leaving. The one about my returning to Earth and my New Jersey—and not this Perwayssick County dimension that is somehow supposed to be part of the Garden State but seems invisible from my world. 

Rindom Doodles crunched under my shoes as I hobbled down the hallway, sticking my tongue out at each of a dozen or so golden-framed portraits of Gneeecey. 

When I reached the last doorway, I just stared. I was looking at a bathroom, alright—one whose Lilliputian purple porcelain fixtures, including a doll-sized shower, had been custom-built for little Oxymoron. Stung by defeat, I knelt on the cold tiles. Using my thumb and forefinger to turn a microscopic golden faucet, I let lukewarm water dribble into my cupped palm. When I’d collected enough, I slapped it on my face. Hardly made a difference. 

Twisting into a pretzel, I viewed segments of myself in a miniature mirror. I gasped—shag imprints welted my strange lavender-tinged skin—which I now know is a result of dimension burn, along with weakened leg muscles. And my hair resembled Einstein’s. I’d have really appreciated his take on my situation. He’d most likely chalk it up to relativity. Relativity gone horribly wrong. 

My bloodshot eyes followed the maroon runner that swept from the washroom’s threshold right up to a tiny toilet equipped with a platinum sploggle. Sploggles are those, uh, devices that keep canine-humanoid tails, uh, high and dry when they’re, uh, seated. A ten-carat, marquise-cut diamond sparkled from a crown-shaped setting in the lid’s center. SFX: [Atmosphere] 

A white rubber yacht sailed the toilet bowl’s calm seas. Flaxen fringe bordered the edges of spool-sized toilet paper that hung from a moronically grinning ceramic jester’s fingers. A brush disguised as a scepter stood guard. The royal chamber lacked only a monarch. 

Overcome by a rush of anxiety, I lumbered out of the room, trying, for the life of me, to remember what it was I’d been trying to remember. And now, I realize that this signaled the beginning of my dimension burn-induced memory issues. 

Anyway, I didn’t know whether it was the stink or the swinging doors that whacked me when I entered the kitchen. Overflowing trash cans, crusty utensils, and moldy lumps sprouting technicolor shoots surrounded a disconnected, displaced stove. A sled— ridden by a murky bowl housing two motionless goonafish and a plastic deep-sea diver—jutted out of the oven. A toaster claimed squatter’s rights on the cooker’s top-level, most likely enchanted by the property’s oceanfront view. Grisly vegetative matter cascaded from its four slots onto the three-headed-hawk coffee mercolator perched below. 

Dark globs dripped from each chrome beak, indicating recent usage—indeed, Gneeecey had used the machine the previous night to make Perswayssick County’s version of coffee for Flea and me—Freak O’Nature’s solid, gelatinous Merk Perk Coffee that you eat with a knife and fork.

Against the wall, alone and aloof, stood a pristine ivory refrigerator. The tall, good-looking appliance must’ve been slumming. Hope sprang, but not eternal. I flung the fridge doors open, only to be met by a wall of pungent odor packing a punch so powerful that it solidified my sinuses and hurled me several feet backward, landing me atop a mountain of rubbish. SFX: [Metal Crash] 

I studied the icebox’s vividly colored contents from my lofty new perspective, concluding that they might possibly be dangerous if taken internally. My empty stomach whined. 

“Bad mornin’,” chirped Flea, skipping into the room. 


Noting my glum mood, the black-furred, scarlet-caped canine-humanoid’s demeanor changed. He pointed to a green spaghetti dinner pasted to the wall. “I’ve already cleaned this place twice.”

“Uh-huh.” Tears blurred my eyes as they rolled up to the ceiling, where a leggy insect labored fruitlessly to free itself from a web. When a spindly green spider moved in for the juicy kill, I had to look away. 

“Zig,” continued Flea, “could afford to hire someone.” 

While the elbow-high superhero prattled on about the kitchen’s disgraceful condition, thoughts of home flooded my mind. Everyone—my mother, sister, brother, even my landlord—knew I had headed for the Jersey shore for the weekend. Nobody would even miss me till I didn’t show up for work Monday morning. And nobody would ever find me. Not in a gazillion years. 

I barely felt Flea tapping my foot. “Din’cha hear me?” 

“Yeah,” I answered, invisible steel pliers squeezing my brain. “This place is gross—” 


“It’s not? You just said—” 

“I jus’ said, lessee if you’re ready to travel home.” 

I raised an eyebrow. 

“If ya learn to do it safely, ya can come back an’ visit us.” I’d rather have malaria, I thought.

Frowning, I guess because his sometimes-functioning superhero ESP caught what I was thinking, he extended a hand. “Lemme help ya down.”

SFX [Magic Spell] 

“Okay, Nicki, walk a straight line. Again.” 

“What’re you, the walking police?” 

“I hafta judge whether you’re strong enough to leave.” 

I trudged across the living room for the twenty-ninth time. 

“Can’t let’cha go if you’re not steady.” 

“C’mon, Flea—you promised—” 

“You’re swayin’.” 

“I’m exhausted—that’s why! And there’s nothing in this here whole county I can eat—” 

“Your legs are still weak.” 

“Please, I gotta leave—today!” 

“I dunno.” 

I fell to my knees. “I’m begging.” First time I’d ever begged a dog for anything….

“Stand on one foot again.” 

“I feel so stupid—I hope no one can see me.” 

“Jus’ do it.” He pounded his fist on the table. SFX: [Blow on Table] “I’m responsible for ya. Ya don’t wanna end up like—like—” 

I crossed my arms. “Julio?” The night before, Gneeecey and Sooperflea had warned me that this fellow human had likely perished because he’d attempted a return home to Earth too soon. 

“Jus’ do what I say,” growled the usually good-natured Flea. “Stand on your right foot. Ready? Go!” He clicked his stopwatch. 

“There!” I shouted, struggling to maintain my balance for five seconds. “Is that good enough for you? Are you satisfied?” 

Flea clipped his timepiece back onto his red utility belt. “Sit.” 

First time ever a dog had ordered me to sit. I lowered myself and tumbled backward into one of the living room’s occasional chairs. Gneeecey had warned us that they were chairs only occasionally. Well, sure enough, this time, the freaking chair decided not to be a chair. It threw me. I landed in a hurting heap. I glared at the smug piece of furniture. I didn’t like its attitude. Before I could pick myself up off the floor, little Oxymoron was all over me, licking my face. 

It was disconcerting to receive comfort from someone who bore such close resemblance to Gneeecey.

SFX: [Fail Horn] [Magic Spell]

DI: Vow, Nicki! Vhat a productive session! Vee are so proud of you and dee great progress you are making!

N: Thank you, Doctor Idnas. It’s due to your help and Grandma’s, too.

IS: You are so velcome, Nicki. I am wery struck by how Sooperflea vanted to make sure you vould be alright—he knew dat your wery vell-being, your wery survival, vas his responsibility. 

N: Yes, Grandma. When he was putting me through all those paces, I was exasperated. But, in retrospect, I realize that he was doing the right thing.

DI: You vere so anxious, and rightfully so, in vanting to return home to your own vurld and your family. Vee can’t vait till your next session, vhen you recall even more.

IS: Oh, look, Alexandra, it seems dat vhen vee vere cleaning up dee mess, vee forgot to clean up several feet of vhipped cream in dee middle of dee room! I guess vee didn’t see it at dee time!

DI: Yah, Ingabore—it looks vary slippery! Somevun could fall!

SFX: [Screeching Brakes]

DI: Vhat ees dat? Vhat ees going on out dere?

SFX: [Wood Demolition Bang] [Door Open]

DI: Diroctor Gneeecey!

IS: Vhat are you doing here again?

N: Yeah—what are you doing here again?

G: I stinkin’ think on my way outta here, I mighta dropped some of them dimes I sneezed out!

SFX: [Sneaker Squeak] [Slip] [Accent Cartoon Slip] [Boing] [Duck Horn]

G: Ow! My nose! Can’cha move that lousy wall of yours?

SFX: [Sneaker Squeak] [Slip] [Accent Cartoon Slip] [Boing] [Duck Horn]

G: Ow! My bimbus! 

SFX: [Cuckoo Clock]

[Fail Horn] [Magic Spell]

Nicki Rodriguez here again! We hope you enjoyed this week’s episode of “Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy!” And we thank you for listening. Please help us spread the word—please tell a friend about us! We appreciate every single download! And again, thank you, Marysol Rodriguez, Sal Solá, Sandi Solá, Marcellina Ramirez, Rick “El Molestoso” Rivera, Diane L., and Toni Aponte, for being generous supporting members through! 

Time now to turn it back over to my alter ego, Vicki. Until next time, be well and stay safe!

SFX: [Magic Spell]

Music/Outro: Thanks, Nicki! Vicki here again. Thanks so much for tuning in to “Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy.” We hope you enjoyed traveling to this loopy dimension with us and that you’ll come along again! Our new episodes drop every Tuesday morning! Please make sure to subscribe and tell a friend! And keep on laughing!

Frank: It’s a Gneeecey thing! [SFX: Door Slam] ###