Waking Nightmare on Murgatroyd Avenue

“Waking Nightmare on Murgatroyd Avenue,” Ep.194 

📜Nicki Rodriguez wakes up in Gneeecey’s tiny pet pup Oxymoron’s bizarre, interdimensional condo—cold, confused, and possibly broke. As she pieces together fragments of last night, battles goonafish memories, and endures freakishly miniaturized furniture, one thing becomes clear: dimension burn is real, and so is the stink in condo’s kitchen, (courtesy of Gneeecey.) Can Nicki survive long enough to get back to New Jersey? Or will the Perswayssick dimension claim her sanity for good?

✨ Featuring Sooperflea (the elbow-high superhero), Gneeecey (the self-proclaimed “business maggot” and newly elected Grate Gizzygalumpaggis of Perswayssick County), and the ever-loyal pup Oxymoron—this episode blends absurd sci-fi, dark humor, and offbeat fantasy in true Perswayssick County style.

🌀 New episodes every week—subscribe for interdimensional misadventures, space-dog sass, and alternate reality rants!

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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)

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 / Waking Nightmare on Murgatroyd Avenue – Episode 194, 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, “Gelatinous Coffee Catastrophe & Toothpaste Trouble!”, back in that other timeline, at 666 Van Pooop Lane, a furious Nurse Maudlyn is coming after her kidnapped hostages, 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…. 

SFX: [Door Slam] [Sneakers Squeaking] 

DIROCTOR BIZZIG “ZIG” GNEEECEY & FLEAGLOSSITTY “FLEA” FLOPPINSPLODGE, AKA “SOOPERFLEA” [in unison]: Uh-oh!

SFX: [Hiccup] 

G: Here she stinkin’ comes!

SFX: [Water Splash]

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

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

NM: Ow—my bimbus!

SFX: [Cartoon 1] [Hiccup] [Comedy Chase] [Sneakers Squeaking]

G & F [in unison]: Halp! Halp! Halp! Halp!

F: Scatter!

G: Run for your stinkin’ life!

SFX: [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. After an spending unpleasant night there, she wakes up, totally disoriented, in puppy Oxymoron’s condo….

SFX: [Magic Spell] [Misgivings & Misfortune]

NICKI RODRIGUEZ: 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 Gneeezle’s 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! 

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 Perswayssick 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. 

“Mornin’.” 

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—” 

“No—” 

“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] [Comedy Chase]

NARRATOR VICKI SOLÁ: We’ll be back next week to see if Nicki is any closer to returning to her own world, and in that other timeline, to see how Gneeeecey and Flea are coping….

SFX: [Hiccup] [Comedy Chase] [Sneakers Squeaking]

G & F [in unison]: Halp! Halp! Halp! Halp!

F: Scatter!

G: Run for your stinkin’ life!

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] ###