Gelatinous Coffee Catastrophe & Toothpaste Trouble

“Gelatinous Coffee Catastrophe & Toothpaste Trouble!” Ep.193 

✨ Hold on to your occasional chairs—it’s another wildly absurd adventure in Perswayssick County! In this out-of-this-galaxy episode of our comedy/fantasy/sci-fi podcast, Sooperflea and Gneeecey make a toothpaste-fueled mess in Nurse Maudlyn’s bathroom, while Nicki Rodriguez tries to survive surreal hospitality, sentient furniture, edible coffee (yes, really), and a deeply emotional Jack Russell-ish canine-humanoid zillionaire.

🦴 From fork-eaten coffee and grongoid allergies, to bizarre flashbacks, Rindom Doodles, and a singing scarecrow documentary, this episode blends zany sci-fi with emotional absurdism and slapstick chaos!

🔮 Perfect for fans of:

• Hitchhiker’s Guide-style sci-fi comedy
• Wacky interdimensional travel
• Anthropomorphic oddballs
• Podcasts full of weird sound effects, spacey drama, and heartfelt hilarity

🎧 Buckle up for:

• Dimensional confusion
• Ego tantrums
• Exploding bathroom supplies
• And a planet where “Nebberd-kinnezzard” is a real word

👉 Hit subscribe for more intergalactic nonsense, alien egos, and mutant snacks—new episodes every week!

#ComedyPodcast #SciFiPodcast #FantasyPodcast #Sooperflea #WeirdFiction #AudioDrama #InterdimensionalTravel #HumorPodcast #WackySciFi #PodcastForGeeks #TalkingDogs #EdibleCoffee #FreakONatureFoods

Episode Artwork created by ChatBox AI

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)

https://perswayssickradio.buzzsprout.com (right here, our Buzzsprout website w/episodes & transcripts!)   And many thanks to disproportionately cool artist Jay Hudson for our podcast logo! https://yojayhudson.com/

Transcript

Transcript / Gelatinous Coffee Catastrophe & Toothpaste Trouble! – Episode 193, 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] [Halloween Spooky & Fun Logo] 

NARRATOR VICKI SOLÁ: In our last episode, “Ya Can’t Squeeze the Toothpaste Back Into the Tube,” black-furred canine-humanoid Fleaglossitty “Flea” Floppinsplodge, also known as Sooperflea and his BFF, the white-and-black-furred, high-voiced canine-humanoid Diroctor Bizzig “Zig” Gneeecey, prisoners in evil Nurse Maudlyn’s 666 Van Pooop Lane home, found out exactly that….

SFX: [Door Open] [Sneakers Squeaking]

DIROCTOR BIZZIG “ZIG” GNEEECEY: Oh, looky! She’s got a gigaaantical tube of toothpaste right here on the sink, where I can reach it!

SFX: [Cartoon Slip]

G: Haaalp, Fleaglossitty, haaalp! 

SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking]

FLEAGLOSSITTY “FLEA” FLOPPINSPLODGE, AKA “SOOPERFLEA: What now, Zig? Oh, Zig…what a mess…. Ya got toothpaste all over the walls, the floor, an’ even the ceilin’!

G: Must be a trick tube! Ya heard what she said—she’s gonna be real maaad! Help me get it back into the lousy tube! 

F: Like everything else ya done, Zig, ya can’t squeeze the toothpaste back into the tube!

SFX: [[Intarface 2] [Electronic Button] DoorLockUnlockKeys] [Door Open] [DoorLockUnlockKeys]

G: Stinkin’ uh-oh….

SFX: [Hiccup] [Sneakers Squeaking] [HumanWalkUpstairs] 

NURSE MAUDLYN: Everything had better be in order in my bathroom here. If I find out those two dastardly canine-humanoids have messed up anything…they’re gonna wish they hadn’t been born!

SFX: [Door Open] [Sneakers Squeaking]

NM: I don’t seem to see anything out of order here…nothing seems out of place….

G: Don’t she see that gigaaantical empty tube an’ all the toothpaste squirted all over the walls an’ floor an’ ceiling?

F: Quiet, Zig—she’ll hear ya!

NM: My big, very expensive tube of dimeosacion vanishing cream! It’s empty! Just wait till I get my hands on those two dastardly canine-humanoids!

SFX: [Mud Drops]

F: I think we missed her comfortable at-home shoes an’ peed on the floor instead! SFX: [Hiccup] [Magic Spell] [Misgivings & Misfortune]

NARRATOR VICKI SOLÁ: Meanwhile, the dimension-burned Earthling human Nicki Rodriguez continues to exist in that alternate timeline after having merged accidentally with her double. Finding herself in Perswayssick County seemingly for the first time, she and Sooperflea have left Gneeecey’s greasy dive, Gneeezle’s Restaurant, and have arrived at Gneeecey’s tiny pet puppy’s condo, where she is shocked when Gneeecey says he visits her planet Earth regularly….

SFX: [Misgivings & Misfortune] 

Weak and dizzy, I braced myself against the wall. Gneeecey peered down his snout at me. “I only bring back the best luxurities when I visit your mudball plaaanet.” 

My eyes widened. “You—you visit my pl-pl—” 

SFX: [Slide Guitar]

“Why don’cha siddown?” He pointed to two squat orange blobs. “They’re occasional chairs—occasionally they let’cha sit in ’em.” 

Before Flea even finished lowering himself, his occasional chair threw him like a defiant stallion. SFX: [Comedy Boing] But luck smiled upon me for the first time that hideous day—I sat and wasn’t thrown. Sighing, I watched Spot, otherwise known as Oxymoron, nose around in a box labeled “Puppy’s First Chemistry Set.” Excited, he galloped over and deposited a slimy red microscope in my lap. SFX: [Puppy Barking] Although riddled with bite marks, the polyurethane instrument appeared fully functional. We engaged in an exuberant tug-of-war. 

“Don’t play wit’ him—he’ll get used to it!” Gneeecey scolded me. “Spot, go watch TV.” 

The pup dropped his toy. He trotted purposefully—and obediently—to a switch partially hidden in the shag carpeting. With a click of his penny-sized paw, SFX: [Metal Click 4] he activated a screen that transformed an entire wall into a vividly-hued test pattern. 

“Put on my station, Spot—it’s more ignorcational.” Oxymoron complied, clicking to Channel 3½. SFX: [Metal Click 4] The pup flopped down, fascinated by the sight of a singing scarecrow. 

“This film’s about a wizard of ounces,” Gneeeecey informed me. “Y’know, a sorcerer of measurements. Cute little documentary.” 

“One of my all-time favorite movies,” I replied. “but it’s not a doc—” 

“Who aaasked ya?” Scowling, Gneeecey glanced at his watch. “Can’t stay—got lotsa important junk to do. That’s how it is wit’ us busy, important people—we’re real busy an’ important. Youse want some coffee before I go? Well? Tell me quick—yup or nope? Nope or yup? Will somebody answer awready?” 

“I’ll have some, Zig,” replied Flea. 

I nodded in agreement. “Me too—some caffeine would really hit the spot.” 

The elbow-high Gneeecey aimed his clenched, revolving fists at my kneecaps. “You’re gonna hit my dog wit’ coffee? I’ll have ya arresticated—I’ll make a snitizen’s arrest right now an’—”

“That’s not what I meant—” 

“Ya gonna hit my Spot wit’ coffee?” 

My muscles tensed. “‘Hit the spot’ is a figure of speech, An expression we use back on Earth, to indicate that something—like a cup of coffee—would really be great.” Shuddering, I realized I’d just referred to my planet as being somewhere else. 

“You’re not gonna throw hot coffee on Spot?” 

“I’d never harm Oxymoron—” 

“Ya mean Spot—stop wastin’ vowels—an’ ya wouldn’t harm him, but would ya hurt him?” 

“Zig, ‘harm’ means—” 

“Shaaaddup, Fleaglossitty—” 

“I meant,” I shouted, “ I’d never hurt Oxymoron—uh, Spot—”

“Nebberd-kinnezzard?” demanded Gneeecey, fists still clenched. 

“Nebberka-what?” 

“Nebberd-kinnezzard. Means ‘extra-never’ on my Planet Eccchs, an’ here in Perswayssick County.’ It’s a, uh, igspression— like youse use on your Earth.” 

“Nebberd-kinnezzard,” I assured him, “would I ever hurt your dog, or any other dog! I love dogs!” 

He unclenched his furry fists. Hoping that our relationship might be on the verge of becoming friendlier—or at least less hostile—I ventured, “Flea calls you ‘Zig.’ Is that short for—” 

“Only my friends can call me Zig,” he shrieked, shattering any illusions of impending camaraderie. “So that means yoooou caaan’t.” 

Staring at Gneeecey through narrowed eyelids, I massaged my sore scalp. He had climbed me like a ladder, right up onto my shoulders, yanking strands of hair from my scalp after I’d accidentally broken one of his restaurant’s fake puke-pink plastic Greek columns. “I wasn’t asking you if I could—” 

“Well ya caaan’t!” The white-and-black Jack Russell-like canine-humanoid stomped into the kitchen, presumably to brew coffee…or something like it…. 

Flea shrugged. “Ya can still call me Flea.” 

SFX: [Fail Horn] [Magic Spell] 

SFX: [Boiling Radiator] [Metal Crashing] [Flushing Toilet] [Shattering Glass] [Glass Debris] [Pouring Sand] [Clown Horn]

SFX: [Bang] “Sorry it took so stinkin’ long,” snarled Gneeecey, bursting through the kitchen door toting a tray containing three tottering mugs and a heap of cutlery. “Sorry for meeee, that is—it’s my valuable time bein’ wasted—hadda make your lousy coffee from scratch!” A molasses-like stream trickled down his left elbow. Flea and I exchanged glances. 

Gneeecey shoved a gooey mug filled with a solid, gelatinous material into my hands. Balancing the burning beaker on my knee, I shifted uneasily, turned off by the brown goop’s sickly-sweet smell. 

“Whattsamatter?” he demanded, irritated, I guess, by my scientific approach. “Ain’cha never ate coffee?” 

“I was just, uh, looking at how different—” 

“It’s Merk Perk, the coffee ya eat wit’ a fork,” he explained, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his shrill tone. “Another fine Freak O’Nature food! Like it says on the package, ‘look for the three-headed hawk!’”

Slobbering, Gneeecey and Flea attacked their wobbly mud with glee. SFX: [Dog Eating] Aware that caffeine deprivation wouldn’t help my migraine, I took a stab, literally, at the jiggly java and put fork to mouth. My eyes popped out, and my cheeks sucked in. 

The two canine-humanoids gawked. “What’s thaaat?” jeered Gneeecey. “Some kinda fish imitation?” 

The bittersweet flavor and gruesome aftertaste sickened me. A single word came to mind. And I was unable to prevent its escape from my pursing lips. “Yiccch!” Without apology, I rested the vessel on an end table. 

Like a heat-seeking missile, Oxymoron’s pint-sized body fired across the room, straight into my cup, knocking it to the floor. SFX: [Dish Ceramic] Only the tip of his ceramic-battering tail was visible. 

“Spot! What baaad manners!” howled Gneeecey, as he wiped his honking schnozzle on his left wrist. SFX: [Duck Horn] “Ow—this stinkin’ watch always hurts my nose!” 

Having gulped down every last glob of gelled joe, Oxymoron backed out of the rolling mug and zoomed down the hallway. 

Without warning, Gneeecey hurled himself to the floor, convulsed with sobs. SFX: [Sobs] Flea struggled to pull his pal’s rigid body up off the carpet. “C’mon, Bizzigsickles.” Clutching clumps of frizzled shag, Gneeecey resisted with all his might. After a good ten minutes of howling, he crawled into my lap. His pear-shaped body was surprisingly light. “In school,” Gneeecey blubbered, swollen eyes gazing into mine, “everyone always made funna me ’cause I loved mon-ney, an’ I even said the word real funny. They called me ‘Cash Register-head.’” I listened, rapt. “They’d put a dollar bill on the floor—wit’ invisible string tied around it—then they’d pull it an’ make me fall. Once, in chemistry class, they even set my propeller beanie on fire.” 

Flea chuckled. “Ya wouldn’t take that hat off, even though your head was burnin’ up.” 

“Couldn’t. Lousy hat cost me ten whole zork—that’s about twenny Jersey bucks today.” 

“Lotsa moolah, back then.” 

“For a stinkin’ whole year—thirteen months—I delivered the Daily Prognosticator an’ sold Rindom Doodles door-to-door, plus I schlocked grongoids on weekends, to earn enough mon-ney to send away for that hat.” 

“What,” I asked, “are grongoids?” 

“They’re these hairy gourds that grow on fracas trees,” explained Gneeecey. “Ya eat ’em.” 

Flea swallowed another mouthful of solid coffee. “Your allergies really kicked up, schlockin’ those grongoids.” 

Tears trailed down Gneeecey’s dirty cheeks. “Well, it was worth every lousy sneeze—whadda beaudiful stinkin’ hat!” He punched my kneecap. Hard. 

“Had red, multidirectional propellers,” recalled Flea. “Turbo-driven—not bad for somethin’ advertised on the back of a cereal box.” 

Gneeecey bunched up his shirt and blew his nose. SFX: [Nose Blow] “I ran down the hall, fast as I could! The fire was outta control—set off all the alarms!” SFX: [Barbecue Sizzle][Fire Alarm] 

Flea nodded. “My geometry test got canceled—” 

“Stop interrupticatin’, Fleaglossitty! So, I stuck my head in the janitor’s bucket. Even underwater, I could hear everyone laughin’.” 

“An’ we got dismissed early—” 

“Fleaglossitty!” 

“Sorry Zig—” 

“When I finally came up for air, my hat was ruint! All that was left was melted propellers!” 

Flea patted his buddy’s shuddering shoulder. 

“Looky.” Gneeecey pointed to a microscopic, paisley-shaped scar on his lowered dome. “I still got a mark, right here. It’s permutant—hair don’t never grow there no more.” 

“I’m sorry, Doctor—” 

He slapped my thigh. “An’ yooooou. Ya come an’ bust my beaudiful column—accident, schmaccident—” 

“I really didn’t mean to—” 

“Then ya threaten Spot an’ tell me my lousy coffee stinks!” 

“I never—” 

“I’ve worked like a dog to get where I am today!” He jumped down off my lap. “An’ I shown ’em all! I’m a zillionaire! Ya hear me?” 

I reached into my purse for a roll of antacids. 

“I’m meeeee!” He smacked my leg for emphasis. Wincing, I popped a chalky, cherry-flavored tablet. 

“Look, Fleaglossitty—she was lyin’ about havin’ no food! 

“This isn’t food,” I protested. “It’s—” 

“Who asked ya?” 

Flea rose. “Zig—” 

“Lemme keep tellin’ her how much better than everyone else I am. How G-R-A-T-E I am!” 

Flea fell backward into the violet sofa. 

“Everyone loves me—I love me! Ya hear me?” 

“Yes,” I replied, chewing on a second antacid tablet. 

“An’ I got lotsa education an’ junk. On your dopey planet, I’d proboobably win a nobular prize.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Uh-stinkin’-huh? That’s all ya can say? Y’know what I do when I’m bored? Brain surgery!”

Eyelids clamped shut, I visualized myself helpless on an operating table, Gneeecey’s chainsaw poised over my skull. 

“Whatsamatter, Ig?” 

“Stop calling me—” 

“I am grate!” he screamed, hurling an end table at me. “G-R-A-T- E! Ya hear me?” 

“Uh-huh,” I replied, ducking. SFX: [ Wood Demolition Bang] 

He pounded his fists on his chest. “I’m stinkin’ filthy rich! Stinkin’ an’ filthy an’ rich!” He collapsed into a beanbag chair. After several moments of sweet silence, my empty stomach roared. Oxymoron jumped sideways. 

Under most other circumstances, I would have been embarrassed. Flea ripped open a snack bag of Freak O’Nature Rindom Doodles and held out a handful. “Try one.” 

Noticing the razor-sharp quills that covered each rust-colored arrow, I declined. Even so, the superhero dumped a mound in my lap. “Y’know what they say—‘One day, that three-headed hawk’s gonna bite’cha.’” 

A flake punctured my thumb. Gneeecey gaped at my wound. “In all my years sawin’ skulls open, I ain’t never seen real Ig blood. It’s red—like ours!” 

I scowled. 

Flea threw a doodle up in the air, caught it on his tongue, and scarfed it down. “Rindom’s a valuable grain, right Zig?” 

“Extremely valoolable.” 

The superhero’s jaw dropped. “Zig—ya jus’—” 

“Jus’ stinkin’ whaaat?” 

“You’re exhibitin’ symptoms of infected speech! A little while ago, ya said ‘proboobably’ insteada ‘probably’! An’ last night ya told me ya seen chairs an’ trees walkin’—” 

“Awready told ya, I ain’t goin’ to no nervologist.” 

“But Doctor Idnas is supposed to be really—” 

“Y’know,” continued Gneeecey, changing the subject, “ya can actually see our beaudiful Planet Eccchs’s golden rindom fields all the way from outer space.” 

“Speaking of space,” I began, “would someone please tell me what’s going on? I mean, I can’t actually be on another planet—” 

“I told ya after I rescued ya, all your questions’ll be answered,” snapped Flea. “Later. Later." 

“I need to know now—”

“Later!” Flea cracked his fur-covered knuckles. “It’s not as simple as ya think.” 

Gneeecey’s piercing peepers drilled through me. “Ain’cha gonna make nice an’ try one of our Rindom Doodles?” 

I thought it best to change the subject. “My luggage!” I exclaimed, actually only just remembering it. “All my stuff’s at the bottom of your river.” Grimacing, I pictured slimy goonafish swimming through my underwear and other possessions. 

“Couldn’t save you, your car, an’ your stuff!” shouted Flea. “I hadda prioritize—that’s one of the first things they teach us at the superhero academy.” 

“I—I didn’t mean you should’ve—” 

“He’s a superhero, not a porter, ya Ig!” exclaimed Gneeecey, delighted to have an opportunity to take a shot at me without incurring Flea’s disapproval. 

I plucked a Rindom Doodle from my cotton sleeve, ripping it. “Flea, you saved my life—I can never, uh, nebberd-kinnezzard repay you for that. And I’m certainly not criticizing you.” 

Gneeecey screwed up his snout like he smelled rotten eggs frying on the Jersey turnpike in July. “She certaincerely did criticalize you!” 

“It’s okay, Nicki—I know what’cha meant. I understand—” 

“I know y’know I meant y’knew what I understaaand we both knew ya were sayin’,” cackled Gneeecey, shoving a finger down his throat. 

“Thanks, Flea,” I replied, ignoring Gneeecey. “Y’know, I do think I’ve lost some really important stuff. Confidential stuff. I can’t even remember exactly what—my head hurts and I’m so dizzy right now—” 

The superhero’s big brown eyes widened with concern. 

“Do you think there’s any way I can retrieve my bags?” 

“Not likely,” answered Flea. “Aren’t too many divers worth their salt who’d venture in those murky waters—for any price. Way too dangerous, especially what wit’ all these sudden inversions we’ve been having lately.” 

“Isn’t there gonna be that festival by the river?” 

“Yeah, Nicki—but no one goes in the water.” 

Gneeecey’s eyeballs had taken on the appearance of cash register windows, displaying actual dollar-and-cent signs. I expected him to begin beeping like one. SFX: [Electronic Cash Register] Suddenly, he seemed much friendlier. “What was in your luggage? How valoolable was your stuff?” 

“Zig—ya jus’ did it again—” 

Gneeecey’s noggin spun around. “Fleaglossitty—for Bogelthorpe’s sake!” Lowering his voice, he turned back to me. “Maybe I can help.” 

“You mean—” 

He spoke fast. “Ya lose any mon-ney? Any jooooolery? Any secret formulas? All your luggage fell in? How many pieces? What did they look like?” 

My fuzzy mind drew blanks. “I think I had a coupla small suitcases, and my green duffel bag. And—I think—my maroon leather portfolio.” I groaned. “I sure hope that didn’t end up in the river—” 

“What part of the river?” inquired Gneeecey, doodles crackling in his mouth like fireworks. “Wasn’t it by the middle of the bridge? Ya went off halfway, right? Well, stinkin’ answer me awready! Yup or nope? Nope or yup?” 

Flea stood. “It’s late. Let’s call it a night.” 

Gneeecey’s dark eyes bored into mine with a spooky intensity. “Didn’t your car go off halfway? Yup or nope? Nope or yup?” 

A feeling of dread gripped me. I’d already given him too much information. “Yeah,” I answered casually. “I guess.” 

“Ya guess what? Were ya goin’ north or south?” 

“I dunno.” Who freakin’ even knew where north or south or anywhere was around here….

“Enough, Zig.” 

A nefarious grin illuminated Gneeecey’s begrimed face. He stared into the distance through narrowed lids, rubbing his palms together. Perswayssick County’s Grate Gizzy-elect plunged a last wiggly forkful of coffee into his pie-hole. SFX: [Belch] “’Scuze me, heh, heh. Gotta go home an’ count my mon-ney now, plus I gotta call Mark—” 

Flea’s head tilted. He didn’t approve of Gneeecey’s strange new waxy-faced, gray-suited friend. 

Gneeecey didn’t notice. “An’ I gotta put the final touches on Petey’s papers.” 

“Things workin’ out wit’ the foster family?” 

“They’re adoptin’ him, thanks to meee, great philanthropoopist that I am—” 

“Zig—ya jus’—” 

“As I was sayin’, I completely rehabituated Petey—replaced his busted handle an’ straightened out his bars. Groceries’ll never fall through him again.”

I must’ve looked puzzled. “Remember that Shopping Cart Orphanage we passed on our way here, Nicki? Remember that fenced yard?” asked Flea.

I nodded, still confused.

 “Y’know,” continued the superhero, “full of poor shopping carts that are rusted, bent, an’ even missin’ wheels? Zig here rehabilitates ’em! He’s a dedicated volunteer!”

“Yep,” piped in Gneeecey. 

Flea smiled. “How carin’ an’ selfless.” 

“Best of all, the family’s payin’ me top dollar.” 

“Oh.”

SFX: [Fail Horn] [Cuckoo Clock]

 “Oh, looky what time it is. Gotta go—also gotta work on my altercatin’ plans against the divloppers, in case the election don’t go the way we’re tryin’ to rig it—I mean—” 

“Ya mean developers, Zig. you’re tryin’ to keep the developers from—” 

“I was wonderin’ when ya’d finally get it,” snapped Gneeecey. “Even our dopey pal Flubbubb understands that redivlopment would ruin the county’s ekookology—” 

“There ya go again—” 

“I mean, whaddabout the poor goonafish?”

The Perswayssick River was teeming with those luminous blue two-tailed, no-headed fish—a staple on Gneeecey’s Gneeezle’s menu. 

“Where,” continued Gneeecey, “could they swim in pieces an’ have hapoopy, produckative lives? Poor dopes ain’t got heads.” 

I had to speak up. “I couldn’t help noticing goonafish entrées listed all over your Gneeezle’s menu. You say you care about them, then you eat them?” 

Gneeecey waved his finger in my flinching face. “We wouldn’t eat ’em if we didn’t like ’em, would we? An’ we’re helpin’ Ol’ Mother Hubbard thin out their popoopulation—makes more room for the rest of ’em. An’ havin’ more room makes ’em hapoopier—it’s a vicious cycle.” 

“Isn’t your logic kind of muddled?” 

“If our side does stuff to ’em, it’s different. We got the right reasons. It’s the reasons that count—not what we do.” 

“I don’t understand—” 

Gneeecey peered down his snoot at me. “I’m a crusader. One day they’ll name a turnpike restroom after me.” 

“Zig,” began Flea, “ya just said our buddy Flubbubb understands. So how ’bout lettin’ him play his triangle wit’ us when we perform at the Save the Goonafish rally tomorrow night?” 

“Certaintifically not! He suffers from xylophobia.” 

“Xyla-wha’?”

“He’s afraida xylophones.” 

“But—” 

“I refuse to disgust it any further.” 

“Aww, put yourself in his place, Zig—imagine how he feels.” 

Gneeecey looked up at the high, purple sparkle-painted ceiling. “Like a spigot-brain, I guess. Hmmm...I wonder how much divin’ lessons cost?” Flea sank back into the couch.

Gneeecey shuffled over to his money sack. “C’mere, Spot.” Oxymoron trotted over obediently. “Don’t spend all this right away,” warned Gneeecey, depositing a wad of bills in the pup’s mouth. “An’ don’t use too much electricity—remember to turn off that lousy air conditioner. An’ don’t forget, I make your lifestyle possible—I’m your bent factor.” 

“Woof—scrrrimp!” replied Oxymoron, through his cash-clogged muzzle. 

“Call the office if ya need anythin’.” Face suddenly contorted with fury, Gneeecey addressed me. “Ya may be leavin’ tomorrow, but’cha ain’t seen the laaast of me. An’ that story ’bout my hat an’ the fire—happened to someone else. Bad night, Fleaglossitty.” 

“Bad night, Zig.” 

Gneeecey stormed out, nearly slamming the door off its hinges. 

SFX: [Door Slam] [Cartoon Slip] [Boing] [Duck Horn] 

“Ow!” shouted Gneeecey from out in the corridor. “Jus’ fell on my stinkin’ bimbus!”

SFX: [Fail Horn] [Magic Spell] [Halloween Spooky & Fun Logo]

NARRATOR VICKI SOLÁ: And back in that other timeline, at 666 Van Pooop Lane….

SFX: [Door Slam] [Sneakers Squeaking] 

G & F [in unison]: Uh-oh!

SFX: [Hiccup] 

G: Here she stinkin’ comes!

SFX: [Water Splash]

NM: Yaaaaaaah—what’s this water all over my flooooor—

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

NM: Ow—my bimbus!

SFX: [Cartoon 1] [Hiccup] [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] ###