Transcript / “Flush Day (Escape From Planet HyenaZitania)”- episode 46, 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] [Boing]
SOOPERFLEA, AKA FLEA, AKA FLEAGLOSSITTY FLOPPINSPLODGE: Hi everyone, this is your friendly neighborhood red-caped canine-humanoid superhero Sooperflea. Before we continue, I wanna tell ya ’bout somethin’ real special! We’re having another contest this week! If you’re our first listener to correctly guess what my bes’ buddy an’ fellow canine-humanoid Zig Gneeecey is hidin’ up there on his third floor, y’know, makin’ that strange boinging noise, we’ll send ya a gift—a Gneeezle's Restaurant menu! Jus’ email us wit’ your answer at bizzig3@aol.com! That’s bizzig3@aol.com. Ya can also find the link in our story description. Now, here’s Nicki!
DIROCTOR BIZZIG “ZIG” GNEEECEY: Hey! What’s this, Fleaglossitty?
F: Uh-oh—Zig—I—I—
G: Thought’cha were gonna pull a faaast one, haaah? Givin’ away one of my Gneeezle’s Restaurant menus? For free? How stinkin’ daaare ya?! They cost me a stinkin’ mint to print!
F: You’re a poet, an’ ya didn’t even know it!
G: Don’t change the lousy subject, Fleaglossitty!
F: Relax, Zig. Ain’t gonna cost ya none of them dimes ya sneeze out. We’re payin’ for it. We’re gonna email our lucky winner wit’ an e-book of your menu. One that we pay for, not you. Now, will ya whisper in my ear here what that strange boingin’ noise is?
G: No! Ain’t whisperin’ nuthin’ in them lousy long droopy ears of yours!
F: No need to get personal—you don’t got the smallest ears neitherwise. But’cha got the longest tail. Now, let’s get back to our story….
G: Ain’t no story—it really hapoopened! An’ I ain’t got no tail. I’m a diroctor—doctor an’ director of this here lousy Perswayssick County.
SFX: [Magic Spell] [Restaurant Ambience] [Glass Shatter] [Dish Ceramic] [Glass Debris] [Barbecue Sizzle]
DOCTOR ALEXANDRA C. IDNAS: Diroctor Gneeecey, eet vas so nice of you to invite us to lunch at your Gneeezles Restaurant! SFX: [Dish Ceramic]
INGABORE SCRIBLIG, AKA “GRANDMA”: Yah, eet vas! Tank you so much!
G: No probooblem. Jus’ wanted some normal lunch for a change, not the junk youse two brung to my house, no offense.
F: Zig!
G: Ow! Fleaglossitty? Why’d ya stinkin’ kick me? I’m your host! I invited all of youse here! Now, order anythin’ ya want. I’m writin’ it all off! Can’t quarantine that everythin’s fresh….
SFX: [Flushing Toilet]
NICKI RODRIGUEZ: Uh, thanks…I think….
G: Don’t sound so oogdiminious, so ingratitudinous, Ig—
N: The name would be Nicki—
G: Okay, Ig an’ all of youse, here comes Altitude, my Gneeezle’s delivery mouse. He’ll be takin’ your orders. I’m on a diet. ’Kay, Altitude, I’ll have some escargots stuffed wit’ swordfishes—be sure to take out them sharp blades—an’ some delicious slurg broth, two buzzard burgers, a ten-foot cheese dog wit’ melted cross-eyed cheese, a goonafish melt, ice cream a la mode—make that turkey flavor—an’ gimme two pieces of shrunkenberry pie. Ontoppa the ice cream.
ALTITUDE THE DELIVERY MOUSE: Okay, Boss. An’ whaddaya wanna drink wit’ all that?
G: Two mugs of fermented slog wit’ extra pulp an’ a big cuppa Freak O’Nature Merk Perk.
A: Is that to stay or for here?
G: It’s to stinkin’ stay. Don’cha see us here sittin’ on our bimbusses at the table? An’ whadda yooou want, Fleaglossitty?
F: I’ll let the ladies go first, Zig.
G: Ya tryin’ to impooplicate that I wasn’t bein’ polite?
DI: Um, I tink I vill order dee turnip turnover.
G: But, that’s only an apoopetizer.
DI: Yah. And I’ll have dat vit a glass of clean vater.
IS: Yah, I tink I vill have dee same.
N: Me too.
SFX: [Splash x 3]
G: Suit yourselves, you three, but you’re missin’ out on some real good food. An’ what are you havin’, Fleaglossitty?
F: I’ll have the Swillsville crackers wit’ a squirt of Zurt, a plate of chocolate-covered shrimp, an order of malted cauliflower, an’ a buzzard burger topped wit’ onions, y’know, the social vegetable. For dessert, hydrogenated vegetable oil pudding an’ some pizza topped wit’ thermal ice cream, y’know, awready melted. Make it chicken flavor.
A: An’ to drink?
F: Some chocolate jackass milk. Thanks, Altitude.
A: Whatever. I’ll be back in a few….
G: Well, Doctor Idnas, Graaandma, an’ Ig, like I said, youse three are missin’ out on some real good tastin’ excellent food. Rememboober, I ain’t chargin’ youse. I’m writin’ it all off.
DI: Dat ees alright, Diroctor Gneeecey. Vee really came to hear vhat happened next, back on Planet HyenaZitania, ven dee bad guys had you cornered.
SFX: [Metal Crash] [Glass Shatter] [Dish Ceramic] [Splash Water] [Flushing Toilet]
G: Sounds like lunch is jus’ ’bout ready!
N: Anyway, Doctor Idnas and Grandma, this is what happened next, back on Planet HyenaZitania. We were in a really bad situation…didn’t see a way out….
SFX: [Suspense] [Police Sirens]
N: Not only were Diroctor Gneeecey and I in a jam, with Diroctor Gneeecey’s evil double Ebegneeezer’s bodyguard Jerko having cornered us. The gangster had also turned on his boss. Jerko was out for revenge, claiming Ebegneeezer had been treating him badly for years.
He shouted, “An’ Boss, I ain’t done wit’ you, by no means!” Before I knew it, Ebegneeezer was clinging to my left leg. And you, Diroctor Gneeecey, you stood up on my shoulders and tightened your arms around my neck. Then you screeched those four words. Those four powerful words you’re never supposed to say when you’re around anyone else, or heaven forbid, when you’re physically connected to anyone else. Three numbers and a color.
A vivid violet blaze engulfed us, then everything went pitch-black.
SFX: [Supersonic Aerodynamic Whoosh] [Music Logo Big Band] [Cinematic Boom A] [Fail Horn] [Magic Spell] [Magic Glitter]
N: And when I opened my eyes, I found myself flat on my back in an all too familiar blue-petaled flower bed. My heart sank as I took it all in. “Boss, it didn’t work!” yowled Altitude. “We all flushed our terlits at the right time, jus’ like ya said to, but it didn’t get us back to our home planet! Didn’t get us back to our Planet Eccchs like ya said it would!” The giant mouse’s voice cracked as he scurried in frantic lopsided circles. “Ya promised Flush Day would get us back! An’ it didn’t! Your big plan didn’t work—we’re still here in Perswayssick County!”
Diroctor Gneeecey, you had this plan up your sleeve—"Flush Day.” Claimed if all your citizens stranded in this dimension of Perswayssick County flushed their toilets at the same time, the force would catapult them back to Planet Eccchs.
G: Well, Ig, guess there was a snag in my plan. Not everyone has them very igspensive terlits that only us rich people can afford—my Electronic Water Cyclone 3000. Y’know, three-thousand cyclones per flush an’ it can also do your taxes, plus ya can even vote from it?
N: Yeah…. Meanwhile, Diroctor Gneeecey, you lay stretched out on your plaid lawn, grinning the dopiest grin this side of the universe.
A dazed Sooperflea sat nearby on an upside-down lawn chair, his red cape tattered. Rocking back and forth, he sported your battered civil defense helmet. The one with the black letter F, for “Flush Day,” painted on the front.
F: “Oh…it worked…in more ways than one,” I remember mumblin’.
G: Might not have been back on our Planet Eccchs, but I sure got away from that other universe. The one wit’ that lousy, rotten other meee—that stinkin’ Ebegneeezer. Everyone flushin’ their terlits at the same time gave them four dangerousical-but-magical words an extra oomph that at least got me back to my Perswayssick County!
N: Through my watering eyes, I watched your arms and legs flail as you made snowless snow angels in your overgrown lime, emerald, and olive plaid tartan grass.
G: It was defoonitively my stinkin’ yard. Wasn’t purpoople, like Ebegneeezer’s lousy lawn back on Planet HyenaZitania. An’ it had that good ol’ funny familiar smell, y’know, like goth poop.
N: I shuddered, remembering your vicious prehistoric-yet-futuristic razor-sharp-fanged chrome pets, Ozzy and Vizzy.
G: Don’t talk bad ’bout my poor dead pets that rusted to death in the rain ’cause you made ’em stay outside ’cause you were scared of ’em. Poor little monsters….
N: You were afraid of them too, afraid of your own pets.
G: Heh, heh….
N: Moving right along, you spat the shredded remains of your health cigar at Flea.
G: Yeah. I stinkin’ demanded, “Fleaglossity, gimme back my lousy civil defense hat.”
F: An’ I remember throwin’ your stupid propeller-topped helmet at ya.
G: An’ ya didn’t hafta throw it! Ya bent the stinkin’ propellers. Had that lousy hat specifoofically made. Y’know, for “Flush Day.”
F: An’ I said, “Welcome home to you, too, Zig.”
G: An’ I got real maaad. I said, “Well, ya don’t hafta say it like thaaat, Fleaglossity, so oogdimonious. An’ who told ya to get stuck in the lousy Ig’s closet, y’know, back on her dopey Earth? What in Bogelthorpe’s name were ya doin’ in her dimension anyways?”
F: That Empathy 5000 machine I invented had malfunctioned. Y’know, the one I was buildin’ to feel my chiropractic patients’ pain, so’s I could help ’em better! Told ya, I can’t be a superhero forever. Gettin’ too old. Gotta make this second career a success.
G: It was proboobably your stooopid empoopathy apooparatus that landed ya stuck in that weird light in the Ig’s dumb closet. Always said that concraption of yours was a dopey idea. Who in their stinkin’ right mind wants to feel someone else’s back pain? Sheeeeesh!
F: Wouldn’t expect yooou to understand, Zig.
G: All I understandicate is that ya really messed up, Fleaglossity. As usual.
F: Y’know, Zig, it wasn’t no picnic on my end either. I got sucked through several wormholes. Begged ya to take that last one. The red one. But’cha took no notice.
G: Had more important junk to pay detention to.
F: Y’mean “attention,” Zig.
G: Stinkin’ whatever, Fleaglossity. An’ stop always corrugatin’ my lousy English.
F: An’, by the way, Zig, I gotta tell ya, even though my empathy machine malfunctioned, since I been usin’ it, my ESP powers have started kickin’ in again.
G: Stinkin’ whatever, Fleaglossity.
F: How do ya think I knew you an’ Nicki were in trouble?
G: ’Cause we’re always in troubooble?
F: Y’know, Zig, I do got somethin’ to thank ya for.
G: I stinkin’ love bein’ thanked for stuff! That don’t hapoopen very often.
F: Your F-Day, everyone flushin’ their high-tech toilets at once, generated the powerful force that freed me from Nicki’s closet and that prison of light. Created the wormholes, too. Thanks. I really mean it, Zig.
G: You’re smellcome, Fleaglossitty.
N: Then, Flea, you staggered over to me. You asked me if I got any of the telepathic messages you had sent me regarding the wormhole. I stared right through you as I replied, “Uh-huh.”
F: An’ I remember sayin’ to ya, “Ya look extra purple, my friend. Your dimension burn must be worse after all this. Ya okay?”
N: And I answered, “Don’t think so, Flea.” Moaning, I forced my achy body into a sitting position and gazed up at Diroctor Gneeecey’s four-story gray stone mansion. It hadn’t changed since my last unwitting visit. Tears burned down my cheeks. I was stranded in Perswayssick County…again…and yes, this time with worsened dimension burn. I’d never be able to attempt a trip back to my planet. Dimension jumps can be deadly even if you’re healthy….
G: But I was hapoopy, awright! “Yupperooney!” I shouted. “I swore on my ten lousy fingers—y’know them extra fingers I got from dimension burn that made me mad, but now I ain’t no more ’cause they’re turnin’ out to be so useful? I swear on all ten of ’em that I was so hapoopy we’re home! Home, sweet stinkin’ home!”
N. “Yeah,” I murmured, shielding my eyes from the arrows of sunlight that shot off your castle’s highly polished five zillion windows, “you may be home. But what about me?” And you chuckled. You laughed.
G: Yeah. I said, “Whuddabout you?”
N: “Yes,” chimed in Ebegneeezer, kneeling in the dirt several yards down. He wagged his extra index finger my way. “What about her?”
SFX: [Music Logo Big Band] [Cinematic Boom A] [Fail Horn] [Magic Spell] SFX: [Magic Spell] [Restaurant Ambience] [Dish Ceramic]
N: And that’s how Diroctor Gneeecey, Flea, Ebegneeezer, and I ended up back here in the dimension of Perswayssick County.
DI: Vow, Nicki. Of course, I know you must have been so vary disappointed to still be stranded back here in Persvayssick County, but who knows vhere you could have ended up!
IS: Yah, eet could have ended qvite disastrously! And Alexandra, I have a roll of antacids vee can share.
F: Yeah, wit’ Zig sayin’ them four dangerousical words out loud, wit’ him an’ that Ebegneeezer clingin’ to poor Nicki! An’ don’t say them four words again, Zig—don’t even whisper ’em!
G: Shaaadup, Fleaglossitty—the Ig ain’t poor.
F: Oh, she is, Zig—she works for you!
G: Good meal. I’m still hungry, though. SFX: [Belch] Uh-oh—ah, hah, haah, fiduciary! SFX: [Clinking Coins] Looky! Musta jus’ sneezed out five bucks worth of dimes!
F: Always changin’ the subject, Zig!
A: Hey, boss, I got them ten big bags of leaves, apples an’ bananas ya wanna bring home, y’know, up to your third floor lyeberry! They’re back there in the kitchen.
G: Let’s me an’ you drag ’em outside to the car. Fleaglossitty, you can help.
F: Ain’t gonna, Zig. ’Cause ya still won’t tell us what’s boinging up there on your third floor, keepin’ us up half the night. What are all these leave, apples, an’ bananas for? Or who are they for?
G: Like I keep sayin’, Fleaglossitty, none of your stinkin’ beeswax. Be back in a minute. SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking][Cartoon Slip] [Slip and Fall] [Duck Horn] [Audience Laughter]
G: Ow, Fleaglossitty—ya made me fall on my lousy bimbus! SFX: [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., Brunie Cariño, and Toni Aponte, for being generous supporting members through BuyMeACoffee.com! 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] ###