Strange Sports, Slippery Stairs, & Stubborn Superheroes

Strange Sports, Slippery Stairs, & Stubborn Superheroes, Ep. 190

Get ready for a hilarious, dimension-bending escapade! Diroctor Bizzig “Zig” Gneeecey — a canine-humanoid with a knack for trouble — wakes up trapped in a jar after being abducted by the wicked Nurse Maudlyn. As Zig struggles to break free, chaos erupts: shattered glass, slippery castor oil, and laugh-out-loud mishaps send him tumbling through Nurse Maudlyn's house in a desperate bid for freedom. Meanwhile, in an alternate timeline, Earthling Nicki Rodriguez teams up with Fleaglossitty "Sooperflea" Floppinsplodge for a bizarre visit to his BFF Gneeecey’s Gneeezle’s Restaurant. There, she’s introduced to a high-stakes alien sport called Zorgle,” and an unforgettable showdown. 

And back in that other dimension, “Fleaglossitty "Sooperflea" Floppinsplodge decides that he must risk all and defy Professor Willard Wallbang—he goes AWOL in order to save Gneeecey!

Packed with slapstick humor, outrageous dialogue, and interdimensional antics, this wacky sci-fi comedy is a must for fans of absurd adventures and extraterrestrial mischief!🚀 Strap in for an epic, hilarious ride!

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 ✅ Ridiculous adventures
 ✅ Time-twisting chaos
 ✅ Laugh-out-loud moments
 ✅ The most unappetizing diner specials this side of the multiverse

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Episode Artwork created by ChatGPT

We hope you enjoyed this week’s episode! We thank Marysol Rodriguez, Sal Solá, Sandi Solá, Marcellina Ramirez, Rick “El Molestoso” Rivera, Diane L., Brunie Cariño, Toni Aponte, and Aileen Bean for being generous supporting members through BuyMeACoffee.com.

https://buymeacoffee.com/Perswayssick (Please support us with a one-time gift or monthly sponsorship amount—various levels available—to help keep us coming to you via BuyMeACoffee.com! We’ll shout you out during our podcast episodes and in our show notes here, plus supply you with more fun perks!)  

https://www.amazon.com/Vicki-Sola/e/B07J29RVMQ (Amazon Author Page, check out our Gneeecey/Nicki e-books and paperbacks!)

https://www.nfreads.com/interview-with-author-vicki-sola/ (Interview with Vicki Solá)

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Transcript

Transcript / Strange Sports, Slippery Stairs, & Stubborn Superheroes – Episode 190, by Vicki Solá. 

All content © 2025 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, and the gang….

SFX: [Magic Spell] [She Calls You]

NARRATOR VICKI SOLÁ: In our last episode, “Tiny Trouble, Doppelgänger Drama, and The Grate Gizzy’s Chaos Café!”, a dimension burn-shrunk canine-humanoid Diroctor Bizzig “Zig” Gneeecey has been abducted by a fugitive, evil Nurse Maudlyn…..  

SFX: [Cartoon Snoring] 

DIROCTOR BIZZIG “ZIG” GNEEECEY: What a weird dream I jus’ had—that I was in my Gneeezle’s Restaurant wit’ Fleaglossitty an’ the Ig…. Wowzickles! I got a little bigger when I was asleep! In fact, it’s getting kinda claustraphoophophobic in this lousy jar. I’m almost fillin’ it up! SFX: [Atmosphere] Maybe, if I shift my weight an’ move around, I can get it to roll offa this stinkin’ night table an’ bust open! Gettin’ cut is somethin’ I’ll jus’ hafta risk! Here goes!

SFX: [Jar Rolling] [Glass Shatter] [Toy Piano Rockabye]

G: Ol’ battle ax must really be tired—that didn’t even wake her up!

G: I still ain’t big enough to reach no light switches, an’ I certaintaneously don’t wanna bust my dopey noodle fallin’ down them stairs in the dark. I better stinkin’ go hide till daylight—maybe under some junk in her stooopid closet….

SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking] [Magic Spell] [Snoring Stops Abruptly] [She Calls You]

NURSE MAUDLYN: Oh! I’d better get up, I’ve got things to do today! I can’t even see straight—must’ve left my glasses downstairs. And my hearing aid. But first, I’d better get to the bathroom—and quickly…. Hmmm, strange….didn’t even take my castor oil last night…in fact, I hardly remember anything from last night….

SFX: [Door Open] [Door Slam] 

G: Good! It’s daylight an’ I can get outta her stinkin’ closet. Glad the ol’ gasbag didn’t step in all that busted glaaass. She woulda remembered last night, real quick. Lemme scoop it all up off the floor wit’ this here big piece of cardboard. SFX: [Glass Debris] I’ll put it in her bed for now. SFX: [Glass Debris]  

G: An’ I’ll cover the glass wit’ her top sheet here so she don’t see it for a while. Now, I need the bathroom myself…usually do gotta relieve myself when I wake up. Ah, here are her comfortable at-home shoes. I think I’ll use the right one…. 

SFX: [Mud Drops]

G: Now’s my chance to run downstairs an’ see if I can escape. Hey, what’s this big gallon-sized bottle here? Says “Castor Oil.” Sounds like it belongs in the kitchen. I’ll be nice an’ take it down wit’ me…. Perhaphoops that will score me some points…. 

SFX: [Halloween Spooky & Fun Logo] [HumanWalkDownstairs] [Sneakers Squeaking] [Glass Shatter] [Glass Debris] [Splash] 

G: Oh, stinkin’ no—I dropped the dopey bottle, an’ this slipoopery castor oil’s spillin’ all over—down the stairs—

SFX: [Cartoon Slip] [Slip & Fall] [Duck Horn]

G: —faster than I can outrun it! Ow—my lousy bimbus!

SFX: [Flushing the Toilet]

G: Uh-oh….

NM: Thank goodness my glasses were in the bathroom…. I don’t even remember leaving them there last night…. Ah, there are my comfortable at-home shoes. SFX: [Splash] Yaaaah! I—I have to sit down! SFX: [Glass Shatter] [Glass Debris] Yaaaah—why that little—wait till I get hold of him!

SFX: [BodyfallHuman] [Glass Debris]

NM: What’s all this slippery liquid doing all over my newly stained and varnished stairs!

SFX: [Cartoon Slip] [Slip & Fall] [Duck Horn]

G: I better run into the kitchen!

SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking]

NM: Not so fast, you dastardly canine-humanoid!

SFX: [Comedy Chase] [Sneakers Squeaking] 

G: Perhaphoops if I climb up them metal shelves there full of them little bottles an’ deckookerations, I can escape through that open window!

NM: Don’t you dare climb up my beautiful, expensive wrought iron etagere with custom cut tempered glass shelving where I keep my costly and rare spices and my delicate Eccchsian goblets! You’re going to make it—

SFX: [Metal Crash] [Bang] [Glass Shatter] [Glass Debris]

NM: Fall!

SFX: [She Calls You]

G: yeah—an’ it’s stinkin’ heavy! I’m trapped under this lousy idiotry or whatever ya called it—an’ I’m trapped wit’ yooou!

NM: [Howls]

SFX: [Slide Guitar] [Magic Spell] [Misgivings and Misfortune] [Restaurant Ambience]

NARRATOR VICKI SOLÁ: Meanwhile, Earthling human Nicki Rodriguez continues to exist in that alternate timeline after having merged accidentally with her double. She and black-furred  canine-humanoid Fleaglossitty “Flea” Floppinsplodge, otherwise known as “Sooperflea” have arrived at Gneeezle’s Restaurant, where Flea has introduced her to the greasy dive’s owner, his best friend and fellow canine-humanoid Diroctor Bizzig “Zig” Gneeecey…. Gneeecey’s attitude is hostile, and Nicki’s already witnessed one of his meltdowns. Meanwhile, Nicki sees nothing even remotely edible on Gneeezle’s bizarre menu.

NICKI RODRIGUEZ: “So, whaddaya waaant awready?” Gneeecey demanded, firing spit into my face with each syllable. 

“Uh. . .I think I’ll have some of that Chinese take-out from next door,” I replied, squirming. “Listed here, under entrées.” 

“Wong’s is closed!” 

A steady stream of high-decibel expletives—punctuated by crashes and smashes SFX: [Metal Crashes] [Glass Shatter] —poured out of the kitchen. I glanced over at Flea. “Be charitable,” he advised, crunching on appetizers that resembled a rock collection I had when I was seven. “He’s had lots to overcome in his life.” 

Just then, Gneeecey, an avant-garde vision in soot, burst through the doors. “A boiled pot never watches,” he grumbled, plopping down next to me. Before he caught his breath, a brass band struck up a dirge-like rendition that reminded me of “Four-and-twenty Blackbirds.” 

Gneeecey and Flea shot up so fast, they nearly toppled the table. Facing the television hung over the slog bar, the two placed their hands over their hearts. As their tragic anthem blared, a lone tear streamed down Gneeecey’s cheek. “My plaaanet,” he bleated, blowing his nose in his hat. SFX: [Nose Blow] 

Onscreen, cameras panned across an orange-and-green octagonal field. Its vivid patterns created an illusion of movement, making my woozy head swirl. Commentators marveled at the legions of fans that packed the arena, waving purple-and-orange “X” banners in support of their visiting planet’s underdog team. 

“Those X’s,” Flea informed me, “are short for E-C-C-C-H-S.” 

“Saves lotsa C’s,” added Gneeecey. “Game’s startin’!” 

Emblazoned on a giant scoreboard was “Planet Eccchs Gnorks vs. Home Planet Zoid III.” Gneeecey shot me a haughty, sidelong glance. “I’m from a consonant-rich planet. Where are yooou from?” 

“Earth.” Couldn’t believe I’d just said that. 

“Earth—sounds so puny—” 

“C’mon, Zig—” 

“Say it over an’ over again! Earth! Earth! Sounds meanin’less after a while, don’t it?” 

Sighing, I glanced up at the screen. Attired in baggy purple-and-orange suits, matching football helmets, and monstrous kelly-green masks, the Gnorks rushed the field. Zoid III’s smug players, already in formation, sported streamlined silver uniforms. 

Flea stuffed an onion-like, three-legged Slothflog in his kisser. “Our Gnorks are finally contenders.” 

“Congratulations.” I knew what it was like to root for the New York Mets. 

“We’re playin’ the toughest team in the quadrant. But we got Gronkle.” 

“Highest-paid player this side of the universe,” added Gneeecey, tearing past with a toilet plunger. 

“But,” cautioned Flea, “we’re not used to Zoid III’s zloggy atmosphere. Our fans are wearin’ masks. See all those purple nurkzoog particles floatin’ ’round?” 

“Yes,” I replied, hoping that a football game might steady my nerves before I hit the parkway. 

“No—zorgle’s more like football, baseball, an’ bowlin’ combined,” stated Flea. “And this game’s also known as belchball.”

“Hey—you said your telepathy wasn’t—” 

“Sorry—I jus’ guessed wha’cha were thinkin’.” 

“Play zorgle!” bellowed an argyle-tuxedoed referee as whistles screeched. SFX: [Referee Whistles] [Baseball Crowd] Roars erupted from the stadium and Gneeezle’s slog-chugging crowd. Gneeecey tossed plates and bowls at our table SFX: [Bang] [Dish Ceramic] as he dashed from the dining room to the kitchen. 

“Watch it!” warned Flea, dodging a plum-colored flying saucer. Egg-shaped eyeballs glued to the screen, Gneeecey pitched a jumble of unmatched utensils our way, SFX: [Metal Crash] coaching his team all the while. “Zorg! Don’t let ’em plook! Defense! Defense!” He ran backward through the kitchen doors and landed on his butt. It honked loudly. SFX: [Boing] [Duck Horn] “Ow! My bimbus!”

Seconds later, he emerged, hauling a steaming, mustard-colored bucket across the orange tiles. Teeth clenched, he lifted it up to our table. “Here’s your lousy stew.” 

Flea salivated as cloudy amber broth rained into Gneeecey’s oversized dish, along with a canvas upper, some bottle caps, a seaweed-covered tire gauge, and several blue blobs from the river. 

“I’m givin’ me an’ you the best, right offa the top,” proclaimed Gneeecey, pouring out a smaller portion for Flea. 

A gallon or two later, the chef turned to me, and swearing under his breath, dumped remnants into my cup—an athletic sock, some screws, and a clump of something green. The two canine-humanoids took little notice of what they gobbled so ravenously—and noisily. Folks here obviously had different nutritional requirements. And strong tooth enamel. Gneeecey accidentally stuck his elbow in my soup and shot me a dirty look. I didn’t give a deck of vlecks. I’d pick up a snack soon, at a parkway rest stop. Or hopefully, just wake up and raid my own refrigerator. 

SFX: [Baseball Crowd] [Referee Whistles]

Suddenly, my dinner companions bounced up, slapping high-fours. 

“Second time ever,” exclaimed the sportscaster, “that the Gnorks have plooked a triple-boinger!”

“Is that like a grand slam?” I asked. 

Gneeecey sneered. “Better.” 

“And there’s Gronkle,” added a second TV commentator, “circling the field as his fans cheer, many wearing big, floppy ears like his. He’s a huge guy, about eight-vlurd-five.” 

Flea grinned. “Gronkle’s triple puts us ahead, three-zip!

“Y’know, Fleaglossitty,” began Gneeecey, slurping his slop, “this reminds me of the time I threw up in Seemingwhale’s—remember?” 

“Yeah. Last year, in electronics.” 

“The Gnorks had just plooked their first triple-boinger. They showed it over an’ over, on every TV in the whole department.” 

Flea stuffed a fistful of wiggly Slothflogs in his face and washed ’em down with a hardy gulp of Slog. “I hadda find a janitor.” 

Queasy enough already, I turned my attention to the game. It appeared that when a zorgler managed to run through the line of tacklers and toss a wooden bat over his adversaries’ goal post., then he’d attempt running eight bases placed helter-skelter across the field and then try to roll the heavy black ball known as a belchball into his own team’s net. All the while, his opponents chased him. His own teammates did little more than hurl insults at the enemy. Each hard-won, completed task was considered a “boinger” and earned one “zoing.” When a player completed all three boingers, he’d have zorgged, or plooked, a triple-boinger. The referees would yell, “go fish! Boing three!” Most players never got past the first boinger. 

“Let’s celebrate,” suggested Gneeecey. “Let’s have pizza for dessert—it rhymes wit’ our dinner.” SFX: [Referee Whistle]

I looked at him. “Pizza doesn’t rhyme with stew.” 

“It’s the taste,” he explained, eyeing me with a mixture of pity and contempt. “Pizza rhymes wit’ our dinner’s taste.”

 “I want ice cream on mine,” said Flea. 

“One scoop or two?” asked Gneeecey. 

“Two. Any chicken flavor left?” 

“Yupperooney—that’s my favorite, too.” 

“Don’t forget the whipped cream!” 

Gneeecey sprinted into the back and returned SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking], schlepping a corroded aluminum tray dripping with red sauce. In the center, atop two triangular slices of cheese-covered dough, sat four mounds of a frozen, whipped cream-topped gray concoction that smelled like a supermarket’s meat aisle. 

Flea’s eyes widened with delight. The two plunged in, muzzle-first, surfacing only for air. SFX: [Dogs Eating] Grossed out, I turned my attention to the TV, where a blinking, eight-hosed, high-suction vacuum slithered around, devouring everything and anything in its way—including a lamp. SFX: [Vacuum] “Commercial’s kinda long, isn’t it?” I asked. 

Gneeecey wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “It’s a infomercial, ya Ig.” 

“My name’s Nicki—” 

Flea raised his glop-covered snout. “But, whaddabout the game?” 

“Halftime,” replied Gneeecey. “I’m runnin’ this Octovac spot while the bands play.” 

“Octovac musta paid ya top dollar.” 

“Yeah—I’m rerunnin’ it later, insteada the news.” 

Flea licked his fingers. “Zig, thinkin’ of tomorrow, an’ our recital at the rally—” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well,” the superhero ventured cautiously, “our good buddy Flubbubb still wants to play. He’d only hit his triangle a coupla times—y’know, ding, ding. Wouldn’t really hurt nuthin’—” 

Gneeecey slammed his fist down. SFX: [Table Pound] [Dish Ceramic] “Ya mean, when me an’ you perform Shriekensobb’s ‘Plight of the Goonafish’?” 

“I jus’ thought—” 

“When I dramatize the plight of dyin’ goonafish, on my electric voaline?” 

“Violin.” 

“Stinkin’ whatever. He’ll even putrificate your piano part—if ya don’t ruin it yourself, always playin’ aheada me ’causa your dopey ESP.” 

“No need to get personal.” 

“Although your ESP ain’t workin’ like it used’ta—” 

“No need to rub it in. I jus’ thought ya could maybe give Flubbubb a chance—I mean, he’s worshipped the ground ya walk on since we were kids.” 

“Got no use for freelance percussionists. Subject closed.” 

Flea stared down at his lap. “Need a favor.” 

Gneeecey burped. SFX: [Burp] “Whaaaat?!” 

“Uh, my roommate’s havin’ a buncha people over. Nicki an’ me need somewhere to stay tonight.” 

I shot up. “What?! I’m not staying anywhere! You said—” 

Flea shook his head. “Sorry, Nicki—” 

“I’m leaving—tonight!” 

“I been observin’ ya. It’s too soon.” 

Tears stung my eyes. “You promised you’d get me back on the parkway—tonight!” 

Flea cracked his fur-covered knuckles. “No way—it could kill ya.” 

Overtaken by a sudden wave of nausea, I fell back into my chair. “I—I don’t understand—”

“Get’cha Ig elbows offa my table,” ordered Gneeecey, picking his teeth with a bottle opener. “Ain’cha got no manners?” 

“‘Zig—” 

“Ya might be right, Flea, She could end up like Julio.” 

“Who’s Julio?” I demanded. My head was killing me. 

“Tell her, Fleaglossitty.” 

Flea’s eyes misted over. “Ya mean, who was Julio?” 

“Julio croaked trynna go home. Was a big mistake.”

“Holy crap!” I exclaimed, clutching my sides. I felt faint. “Tell me all this’ll go away if I close my eyes.” 

“It won’t,” replied Flea. 

Our gracious host leaped to his feet. “Youse two better get goin’. I’ll get your check. Hotels, motels—even all the dumps—are fillin’ fast causa the Mierk Fest.” 

Flea jumped up. “Hotel? Motel? I’m your best friend!” 

“Don’t matter—I treat everyone alike.” 

“Ya remember the time I saved your—” 

“Don’t keep bringin’ that up!” 

Flea’s jaw tightened. 

“Okay—ya can stay wit’ me.” 

“Thanks, Zig.”

“Well, actually, ya can stay at my pet dog’s condo.” 

I looked at him. “Your pet dog’s condo?” 

Gneeecey turned to Flea. “Her too? She gotta stay?” 

“Do I hafta remind ya—” 

“Aw-stinkin’-right, youse can both stay.” Gneeecey glared my way. “But jus’ tonight. An’ make sure she’s stupervised at all times.” 

“Zig, I don’t think ya hafta worry.” 

Gneeecey stuffed a cold Slothflog in his mouth. “I don’t usually allow people from other plaaanets.” 

“His pet dog’s condo,” I muttered, regarding my fate in a curiously detached manner. 

“Spot’s got his own condo,” snapped Gneeecey. “His own phone, his own big boy life. whole derangement works out priddy good—I get all the fun of pet ownership, but none of the responsiboobabilities.” 

Sick to my stomach, I staggered to my feet. “Uh, where’s the restroom?” 

Gneeecey pointed in Bacchus’s direction. “Hope ya fall in. A good swim might refresh ya!” 

Shooting him a disapproving glance, Flea rose to steady me. 

SFX: [Fail Horn] [ Magic Spell]

I sat at our table, watching as Gneeecey snatched a newspaper from under an astonished customer’s nose, and waddled to the back. 

“Pardon the indelicacy,” I whispered in Flea’s droopy ear, “but, what was that plastic thing attached to the back of the seat in the, y’know, privy? It fell off and wouldn’t go back on.” 

“Oh, ya mean, the sploggle,” he replied, blushing through his fur. “Sploggles, uh, keep our tails high and dry.” 

“Uh, Flea, we’ve gotta talk—I’ve gotta get back home—” 

SFX: [Orchestra Cliffhanger] [Magic Spell] [Space, Mystery] 

NARRATOR VICKI SOLÁ: Meanwhile, back on that other timeline….

SFX: [Hammering]

PROFESSOR WILLARD WALLBANG: Students! Students! Stop! You’re cheating! How many times do I have to remind you that you are to totally reconstruct this destroyed spaceship by employing your mental energies. If I see another one of you even touch a hammer or any other physical tool, I shall not only immediately confiscate it, but you shall forfeit any opportunity to earn credits toward matriculation. And you, Mister Floppinsplodge, I had charged you, as a graduate of our venerable Perswayssick Superhero Academy, with supervising these undergraduates.

FLEAGLOSSITTY “FLEA” FLOPPINSPLODGE, AKA “SOOPERFLEA”:  Oh, Professor Wallbang—you were right, and I—

PWW: And you what?

F: The combination of severe dimension burn an’ my carryin’ that silver gloog, y’know, made of that powerful difalconiumyte, it—it has enhanced my superhero ESP, which was failing….

PWW: And?

F: And it tells me that Zig is in trouble—an’ I know where he is! I gotta go save him!

PWW: And you are then shirking your commitments here, and willing to forfeit the possible coveted teaching position I’d be offering you after the completion of this project?

VLOXX: Good morning, Professor Wallbang.

PWW: Why, Vloxx….

V: Just stopping by to check the progress of your students’ repair of my spacecraft. Two weeks go by rather quickly.

PWW: Mister Floppinsplodge! I order you to come back—this minute!

F: Can’t! Gotta go save Zig! 

SFX: [Cartoon Superhero Vocal Fanfare] [Passing Swoosh] [Orchestra Cliffhanger] [Magic Spell]

We hope you enjoyed this week’s episode! We thank Marysol Rodriguez, Sal Solá, Sandi Solá, Marcellina Ramirez, Rick “El Molestoso” Rivera, Diane L., Brunie Cariño, Toni Aponte, and Aileen Bean for being generous supporting members through BuyMeACoffee.com. 

And thank you 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! Please make sure to tell a friend! And keep on laughing! 

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