Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy

Trapped in the Claw Machine

June 07, 2022 Season 6 Episode 5
Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy
Trapped in the Claw Machine
Show Notes Transcript

“Trapped in the Claw Machine” - Episode 44

In this comedy of terrors, Planet HyenaZitania’s cops and bad guys are hot on the heels of prison escapees Nicki and Zig Gneeecey. As they run for their lives, the zany canine-humanoid’s red high-top sneakers screech to a halt. A claw machine filled with shiny, colorful threes and eights (valuable numbers on his Planet Eccchs) has suddenly materialized, right in front of his bulging eyeballs. Nicki pleads with him not to stop. She’s convinced it’s a trick!

We thank Marysol Rodriguez, Sandi Solá, Sal Solá, Marcellina Ramirez, Rick “El Molestoso” Rivera, Diane L., Brunie Cariño, 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 / “Trapped in the Claw Machine”- episode 44, 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] [Barbecue Sizzle] [Underwater Bubbles]

DIROCTOR BIZZIG “ZIG” GNEEECEY: Heya, everyone, it’s meee, Diroctor Zig Gneeecey, the Grate Gizzygalumpaggis of this here whole Perswayssick County! I’m here to tell youse that this podcast epoopisode is brung to youse by Freak O’Nature Merk Perk Coffee, the only coffee ya can eat wit’ a knife an’ fork! Ya can hear it percolatin’—I mean, merkolatin’—in the background! Its beaudiful, bitter taste is sure to make your snout crinkle an’ your eyes pop out! Help us keep this podcast goin’! Buy some an’—

VICKI  SOLA: Hey! How dare you—

G: Stinkin’ uh-oh…. It’s the head Iggleheimer here, that earthlin’ Vicki Sola! 

VS: This podcast episode is not brought to you by Merk Perk Coffee or any other Freak O’Nature product!

G: Heh, heh…. I thought the free advertisin’ was worth at least a stinkin’ try! An’ I got a feelin’ that you an’ that Nicki Rodriguez may be the same lousy Earth huuuman!

VS: Whatever…. If our friends want to support us, our link is at the end of our story descriptions: And that’s with two S’s ’cause we’re twice as sick. Now, let’s turn it over to my alter ego, Nicki Rodriguez.

G: See?! You’re her!

SFX: [Magic Spell] [Doorbell] [Door Open]

NICKI RODRIGUEZ: Hi Doctor Idnas! Grandma! Thank you so much for coming over again! How kind of you both!

DOCTOR ALEXANDRA C. IDNAS: Our pleasure, Nicki!

INGABORE SCRIBLIG, AKA “GRANDMA”: Yah, vee really vant to know vhat happened next, vhen you and Gneeecey vere running from dee bad people back on Planet HyenaZitania!

DI: Yah, vee do. Vee bot believe dat Gneeecey talking about dese traumatic experiences here in hees own home ees extremely terapeutic, don’t vee, Ingabore?

IS: Yah, Alexandra, absolutely.  

N: I must say, in light of your last meal here in Gneeecey’s mansion, it was brave of you both to come back for another lunch here.

IS: I’ve brought anudder batch of my veggie meatballs! 

DI: And I’ve brought anudder tossed salad, and dis time, freshly baked sloggenberry strudel from Shisskey’s Bakery! Burt and Mary send dere regards!

IS: And vee stopped at Gneeecey’s Gneeezle’s Restaurant and brought him back some of his Surprise Stew vit’ extra algae, sautéed nuts and bolts, and a generous helping of atletic socks, boiled to perfection—I know he loves dat, even dough vee don’t! Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha!

SFX: [Squeaking Sneakers] [Glass Debris] [Metal Crash] [Dish Ceramic] [Bang] [Splash 1] [Squeaking Sneakers] 

G: Youse mean, I went to all the trouble of cookin’ us lunch for nuthin’? Youse two brung food? Again?!

IS: Diroctor Gneeecey, you vill love dee Surprise Stew! 

DI: Yah, and most importantly, you vill get to tell us about your own experiences here, in dee comfort of your own home.

G: Well, stinkin’ okay, then. Fleaglossitty ain’t here. He hadda go to his chiropractor class. Y’know, as he gets older, he can’t be a superhero forever. So, I gotta go set the lousy table for us.

SFX: [Boing] 

N: Uh, Diroctor Gneeecey, what’s that, uh, strange boinging sound that I hear?

G: Nuthin’, Ig. None of your stinkin’ beeswax. 

N: It’s pretty loud, sounds like it’s coming from upstairs somewhere.

G: It’s my house. I don’t owe you or no one else no explanation ’bout who’s up there in my lousy third-floor lyeberry.

N: I happen to live here, too, Diroctor Gneeecey, so it does affect me.

G: Stinkin’ whatever…. Gotta go set the tabooble ’cause Fleaglossitty ain’t here for me to boss around. 

SFX: [Squeaking Sneakers] [Magic Spell] [Dog Eating] [Burp]

G: Y’know, Graaandma an’ Doctor Idnas, that Surprise Stew was priddy stinkin’ good!

IS: You’re wery velcome, Diroctor Gneeecey. Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha! 

DI: Yah, our pleasure! Now, please, you and Nicki, tell us vhat happened as you vere running from dee bad guys back on Planet HyenaZitania.

N: First, in order to tell you what happened next, we have to backtrack a little. Back to when Diroctor Gneeecey and I were imprisoned in ZomSect3 on that planet, in a medieval-type dungeon. You could hear zombies moaning down below in the courtyard.

G: But these zomboobies weren’t killers, they were despooperate to eat them orange an’ grape jelled brains. But they were defoofinitely creepy! Right, Ig? 

N: Yep, Diroctor Gneeecey, they were. Now, I’ve found what I believe is the last of a number of these weird electronic audio capsules from the miserable evil Demon Clown of Bathrooms—Sulak—and I’m almost afraid to say his name aloud. Turns out we were being recorded that night in that primitive medieval dungeon back on HyenaZitania! 

G: Yeah, Ig, I rememboober you sayin’ how ya thought ya saw a red light flash overhead, but we couldn’t see how that coulda been possibooble. But they did record us, an’ now that terlit clown is tryin’ to blackmail me, threatenin’ to make it public.

N: So, here, I’m gonna play it to refresh our memories and give context to what happened next as we were on the run.

G: An’ ya better bust that lousy audio capoopsule after this! Stinkin’ smaaash it!

N: Will do, Diroctor Gneeecey, will do. Now, let’s listen to what they recorded that night—

G: An’ used to trick me!

SFX: [Electronic Button] [Cool Digital Alert 3]

G: Ig…in case we don’t, y’know, never see each other again after them two suns come up ’cause we caaan’t stinkin’ give ’em the right answers they’re lookin’ for, I wanna tell ya ’bout somethin’.  

N: Yeah, sure. 

G: Confoofidentially speakin’, of course.  

N: Of course. 

G: Never told no one ’bout this, not even Fleaglossity. Anyone finds this out, it could ruin my prekookarious pollutical standin’ back home. An’ my whole life…. Now, for some stinkin’ reason, I trust ya. An’ I need to get this offa my chest.  

N: Okay. 

G: Ya rememboober I mighta mentioned to ya that I worked my way through medical school back on Planet Eccchs?   

 N: Uh-huh.   

G: Well, I was a junior clerk. In our local Office of Threes. Y’know how valuable a three is, where I come from. An’ to think, they entrusticated meee wit’ ’em, even though I was so young. 

N: Yes, Diroctor, you did mention that once or twice.  

G: Well, I never told you or no one else what hapoopened…. There were all kinds of threes. Blue threes, green threes, plaaastic threes, wooden threes, metal threes, an’ paper an’ cardboard threes. Some were even three glonkometers long, that’s ’bout a quarter of a foot, in youse Earth people’s more, uh, primitive measurements. 

N: What exactly was your job there?  

G: I was supposed to sepooparate the threes by size, color, an’ material, an’ y’know, enter ’em into the inventory computer. Then lock ’em all up in this gigaaantical vault. 

N: And?   

G: Well, Ig, this here’s the confoofidential part. Sometimes a paper or cardboard eight was turned in…an’ they were igstemely rare. Three times as valuable…. An’, instead of loggin’ ’em in…I would…well...I would…. 

N: You would what?  

G: I would stinkin’ take these real big scissors an’ cut the lousy eights in half…when I thought no one was lookin’…an’ I’d pocket a three.            

N: You get caught?  

G: My supoopervisor, Mister Forkworthy, he knowed me a long time ’cause his wife, Missus Forkworthy was my first-grade teacher, she had yellow hair, an’ I did good wit’ her ’cause she always seemed to call on me whenever the answer was three. 

N: That certainly was lucky.  

G: Yeah, Ig, it most certaincerely was. Anyways, to make a short story long, one day Mister Forkworthy says to me, “Son, I got eyes in the back of my head an’ they been watchin’ ya for weeks. I should really fire ya an’ inform the authorities, but I jus’ can’t bring myself to. I knowed ya for such a long time, since ya was knee-high to a glompershprout, an’ I always seen so many good qualities in ya. Real potential.”  

N: So, he gave you another chance?  

G: Yupperooney, Ig. He held out this gigaaantical wood box an’ tol’ me to empty all my pockets. An’ I did. Filled up that whole box, plus another. Blue threes, green threes, paper an’ cardboard threes, an’ even a purpoople three. Also, some plaaastic threes an’ even a three from this wooden eight I managed to split, wit’ great difooficulty, of course, y’know, hidin’ under my desk. 

N: You kept your job?  

G: Yeah, Ig. Through the rest of medical school. Mister Forkworthy warned me that fatefootful day, “Young man, I’ll see ya here again tomorrow afternoon, but don’t lemme never catch ya embezoozlin’ another three.” Can’t say I wasn’t tempted at times, ’specially when a beaudiful shiny gold or red eight would show up. But I kept my promise. Never cut another eight or pocketed another three.

 N: Wow, lucky you had such an understanding and compassionate boss—one who really believed in you. 

G: Yeah, Ig. 

SFX: [Cool Digital Alert 4] [Electronic Button] 

G: We listened to it Ig. Ya better bust it!  

N: Okay, Diroctor Gneeecey….So, last week, we told you about how Diroctor Gneeecey and I were mistaken for our evil lookalikes Ebegneeezer Gesundheit Eeeceygnay and NickNick. The HyenaZitania authorities whisked us away to the Splattsburg Quadrant, onstage, where Diroctor Gneeecey gave this, uh, speech— 

G: Wasn’t nuthin’ wrong wit’ it, Ig— 

N: And they began to swear him in for his thirteen term as HyenaZitania’s Grate BigButtKizz. Suddenly, Ebegeeezer jumped on stage shouting, “Imposter!” NickNick and obnoxious bodyguard Jerko followed, along with zillions of black-suited, armed agents. With my powers, I froze them, but just temporarily. Amazingly, we got away with help from some of our fellow ZomSect3 escapees.   

 G: An’ we ran an’ hid an’ ran some more! 

N: Yes. And then this wormhole, this tunnel, appeared in the sky, with Flea’s voice telling us to take it back home. Back to our universe, his voice pleaded. 

G: Yupperooney, it was Fleaglossitty awright.  

N: I begged you to hurry up, and instead, you ran away in the other direction— 

G: My teddy bear Yammicles had fell outta my shoe! Ig, I hadda go back an’ get him—an’ my thousand dollar bill that was insider him! 

N: Well, you did. And two seconds later, the entire tunnel dematerialized. SFX: [Magic Glitter] And the unearthly colored lights in the sky flickered out. Totally disappeared. SFX: [Magic Summon] I dropped to my knees on the sidewalk. “The wormhole,” I sobbed, wringing my hands in despair, “it’s gone! Now, we’ll never get home!”  

G: An’ this is what hapoopened next….

SFX: [Magic Spell] [Police Sirens] [Helicopter] [Ambulance Sirens]

N: Blood from my scraped knees trickled down my shins as I pushed up off the pavement. Oblivious, you darted past me and tore toward a humongous claw machine that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the road from out of nowhere.

G: I rememboober, Ig! “Holy Saint Bogelthorpe!” I screamed. “Looky at all them cool threes an’ eights!”

N: The claw machine was filled with threes and eights. I ran after you, shouting, “Diroctor, no! It’s a trick! They had to be listening in! Remember that night back in the dungeon when you were talking about….”

G: Didn’t wanna hear ’bout that, ya lousy Ig!

N: And the name would be Nicki.

G: Yeah, Ig.

N: [sighs] Your wet nose pressed against the glass case, you yanked on the giant lever that manipulated the steel pincer. SFX: [Bang]

G: Yupperooney, ya Iggarooney! Hadda get me summa them there beaudiful threes! An’ faboobulous eights—they’re double threes, y’know!

N: Yeah. I know. 

G: Well, don’t say it like that, so oogdimonious, Ig.

N: Yeah. The cops and the bad guys were hot on our heels, closing in on us, and I begged you not to stop. “No, Diroctor! Please!” I shouted.

G: An Ig like you wasn’t gonna make me miss out on all them valuable threes an’ eights! An opportunity of a stinkin’ lifetime! 

N: Yeah….

G: An’ I rememboober thinkin’ out loud, “Aaaah…them lousy claws don’t never work…it’s a rip-off! Machines are rigged! Well, jus’ watch me! I’m gonna beat the stinkin’ system!”

N: Meanwhile, sirens wailed, and tires screeched all around us. SFX: [Police Sirens] [Screeching Brakes] I remember pleading with you, yelling, “Diroctor, c’mon—we’ve gotta get outta here! Now!” But, no reaction from you. 

G: I was real busy, Ig! Ya were interrupticatin’ me—as usual!

N: I called your name again! “Diroctor Gneeecey!” No reaction….

G: I was jus’ lookin’ at all them priddy sparkly threes an’ eights! Didn’t even hafta put no mon-ney in the stooopid machine! Didn’t have no slot! It was all stinkin’ free for the takin’! 

N: Yeah. You took a giant leap. I’ll never forget—you actually appeared to defy gravity as you and your squeaking sneakers scrambled up the side panel. SFX: [Squeaking Sneakers] Once on top, you lifted a handle.  SFX: [Metal Click 3]

G: It opened! It stinkin’ opened, jus’ like thaaat!

N: And my jaw dropped. In an instant, you were inside the freakin’ machine, sitting waist-deep in a pile of sparkly numbers of every color and material imaginable. SFX: [Circus Win 3]

G: It was heavoovenly! Red threes, blue threes, green threes, silver threes, gold threes… plaaastic threes, rubber threes, metal threes, an’ even wood, mylar, an’ velour threes! SFX: [Circus Win 4] [Cool Digital Alert 3]

N: My fingers flew everywhere searching for a way to open the dang thing and get you out. I groaned when I realized that the top latch had locked. Time stood still—but the cops and bad guys didn’t—as you tossed numerals all over the place, your face aglow with rapture. “Orange threes! Purpoople eights! All mine!” you shrieked with joyful abandon! [Cool Digital Alert 4]

G: Ya were trynna wreck all my fun—as usual! SFX: [Circus Win 3]

N: I pummeled that window with both fists. SFX: [Blow on the Table] I hollered, “You come out of there right now! I thought you were smarter than this! It’s a trick!” SFX: [Blow on the Table]

G: It hadda be stinkin’ heaven! I thought, if I hadda be stranded in a difooferent universe, mayboobee it really wasn’t gonna be so baaad! SFX: [Circus Win 4]

N: I remember watching you rub an inflatable yellow three under your arms and all over your torso, like the soap you never use.

G: No need to get personal, ya Ig. Soap gets ridda good bacteria, too!

N: Well…anyway, forget about soap—

G: I usually do! Saves me mon-ney!

N: Yeah. So, footsteps and shouts were getting louder by the second. SFX: [Suspense] My heart began banging through my ribcage. “Diroctor,” I ordered you, “Out! Now! They’re gonna take us back to prison—or worse! You wanna end up back in that ZomSect3, with all those zombies? Out, now!”

G: Ya stinkin’ must know by now, Ig, I don’t take orders from nobody! [Cool Digital Alert 3]

N: Yeah. You kept laughing and stuffing threes and eights into your pockets till they began tumbling out. [Cool Digital Alert 4]  

G: I do rememboober laughin’! Heh hah. Heh haah, heh haaah! An’ then I almost started cryin! Lousy pockets weren’t big enough for all them precious threes an’ eights! What was I stinkin’ gonna dooo? Ain’t buyin’ shirts an’ paaants wit’ small pockets again! SFX: [Circus Win 4] 

N: “Just where I knew they’d be!” shouted your evil double Ebegneeezer, scampering toward us. My nasty double NickNick followed, right on his gleaming leather heels, her sword-like burgundy claws bared. Then Jerko—HyenaZitania’s double of Perswayssick County’s rotten Markman alien gangster Blond Big-nosed Mark appeared. He was brandishing a brown pistol so tiny, it would’ve looked silly under other circumstances. “Haah, haah, haah, my plan worked!” he exclaimed. “I should get a raise. But I’m sure I won’t—never do!”

G: That Jerko never seemed too hapoopy wit’ his employer—my hideous double! They all stinkin’ deserved each other!

N: True that. Meanwhile, I was seething with anger. I focused my gaze on your claw machine until that steaming white haze obscured my vision.  SFX: [Hollow Spooky Fear] [Jet Engine Startup] [Supersonic Aerodynamic Whoosh] [Magic Glitter] 

I wasn’t entirely surprised when that whole glass case shattered, spraying zillions of fragments high into the air. SFX: [Glass Shatter] [Glass Debris] As jagged shards rained down upon our heads, you sprang out of the machine, glaring at me. 

G: I certaintaneously hadda right to be maaad at’cha!  I screamed, “Ya lousy Ig! Looky wha’cha jus’ done! Ya jus’ busticated all them precious, beaudiful threes an’ eights! Ya stinkin’ destructified ’em! Why, I’ll have ya arresticated!”

N: Ebegneeezer’s luminous left purple peeper blazed as he pressed his extra index finger against your running black honker. 

G: No need to get personal, ya Ig! 

N: Well, you should’ve been running, not your nose! 

G: Heh, heh….

N: Well, your double—

G: My hideous double! 

N: Yeah, your hideous double—

G: How dare ya call my double hideous? Then you’re callin’ meee hideous!

N: But—but—you just said—

G: Never-stinkin’-mind what I jus’ said. Jus’ keep tellin’ the story. An’ it ain’t a story—it all really hapoopened!

N: Well, Ebegneeezer was in your face, yelling. “Speaking of criminal offenses, surely you did not actually, seriously believe that you would succeed in impersonating me, The Grate BigButtKizz of this wonderful planet, did you, old chap?” Your eyes were bulging, and you were waving your fists in the air. 

G: Yeah. I was real, real maaad! I said, “Ya repooprimandin’ meee, The Grate One? The Grate Gizzygalumpaggis of the wonderfoofal dimension of Perswayssick County? Ya should stinkin’ pay me for improoveratin’ your lousy inordination speech, for starters! Go kizz your ungreat lousy big butt! Y’know, your bimbus!”

N: Ebegneeezer couldn’t believe you said that. “Oh, really?” he replied, inching closer to you, if that was even possible. Then you tugged at your blue T-shirt. 

G: “Yeah!” I shouted at my hideous lookalike. “An’ how do ya like my lousy red shirt here that ain’t really blue that I’m wearin’?”

N: Diroctor Gneeecey, you and I both remembered that time he was holding us prisoner and interrogating us, playing those mind games. 

G: Yeah, Ig. I do rememboober. He had that red parrot that he called Ol’ Blue. Tried to make us think Ol’ Blue was blue. 

N: And he managed to control our minds. You ended up agreeing that the red bird was blue, and so did I, even though I could see that the freakin’ bird was red. “Matches my tank top as well,” Ebegneeezer had stated matter-of-factly, adding, ‘it is also blue.” 

G: Yupperooney, Ig. You an’ I both ended up agreein’ that his stoopid shirt was blue, even though we saw that it was red. So that’s why I stinkin’ pulled on my T-shirt when he came up in my much better lookin’ face. Wanted to mess wit’ his mind the way he did wit’ ours!

 N: And you did! “Why, old chap,” he began, “that tasteless piece of apparel you are sporting—and I may add, never seem to take off or ever launder—is turquoise, not red!”

G: An’ I said, “Nah, it’s stinkin’ red, like your dumb parrot Ol’ Blue, ya dopey, lousy imposter!”

N” And Ebegneeezer replied, “Your shirt is stinking! As is your unsuccessful effort to deceive me.”

G: I shouted, “Oh yeah?” Then I lunged at him.

N: Then Jerko stepped in. “Okay, dat’s it.” Ebegneeezer’s gangster bodyguard aimed his pistol at your head, stopping you in your tracks.

SFX: [Metal Click 3] [Music Logo Big Band] [Cinematic Boom A] [Fail Horn] [Magic Spell]

DI: Oh, Nicki, Diroctor Gneeecey, my goodness! Vhat a story!

G: Wasn’t no story, Doctor Idnas—it really hapoopened! 

N: And that was not the end of it!

IS: Vee hope you vill tell us more next veek vhen vee come by again to hear more, right Alexandra?

DI: Yah, Ingabore! 

SFX: [Boing]

N: And I hope before next week, Diroctor Gneeecey tells us who’s upstairs in this house, making that weird boinging noise! SFX: [Boing]

G: Ah, hah, haah, fiduciary! SFX: [Clinking Coins]  Ya Ig, ya jus’ made me sneeze dimes an’ fall on my lousy bimbus!

N: Guess, like Flea says, someone’s allergic to telling the truth! 

SFX: [Cuckoo Clock]

DI: Oh, Ingabore, look vhat time eet ees! 

IS: Yah, Alexandra, vee must get going! Bye-bye! See you next veek!

SFX: [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., Brunie Cariño, 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]

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] ###