From Stinky Socks to Sweet Pastries

From Stinky Socks to Sweet Pastries, Episode 213

Step into the weird, wacky world of Perswayssick County (but not canine-humanoid Gneeecey’s stinky socks) 🌌👽 in this laugh-out-loud comedy/fantasy/sci-fi podcast episode!

On her first chaotic day as Diroctor Gneeecey’s reluctant assistant, Earthling Nicki Rodriguez ☕🌀 gets dragged into some seriously strange errands. First stop: a bizarre “Sock Repairs” shop 🧦🔔 run by the grumpy, near-mummified human Gus, who treats Gneeecey’s smelly “lucky socks” like radioactive waste. Then—POOF!—a limo shortcut hurls them through space and straight into Shisskey’s Bakery 🥐🍰, where cream-covered cakes collide with heated debates over riverbank development, endangered goonafish 🐟, and the mysterious yellow-eyed Markman triplets 👔👔👔.

Meanwhile, Nicki’s just trying to survive without pay, without breakfast, and without throttling her boss. 😂

✨ If you’re a fan of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, surreal sci-fi humor, and absurd fantasy adventures, you’ll love this episode of Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy!

🎙️ Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy – Where logic takes a coffee break and chaos flushes the rules!🔔 Subscribe & hit the bell for more weird, hilarious, and unpredictable episodes from our Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy fantasy/sci-fi comedy podcast series! ✨ Don’t forget to like, share, and drop a comment! 🪐New episodes every week! 🎧 LISTEN: https://perswayssickradio.buzzsprout.com 🎧

Episode Artwork: ChatGPT & Gneeecey by Jay Hudson

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.

#Comedy #fantasy #SciFi #dogs #dogsofInstagram #Podcast #hitchhikersgalaxyfans #montypythonfans #ParallelUniverse #FunnyAudioDrama #Multiverse #DimensionHopping #WeirdFiction #AudioTheater 

Transcript

Transcript / From Stinky Socks to Sweet Pastries – Episode 213, by Vicki Solá. 

(Based on material from THE GETAWAY THAT GOT AWAY by Vicki Solá  (© 2011, Full Court Press)

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] [Misgivings & Misfortune]

NARRATOR VICKI SOLÁ: This week finds us back in that other parallel universe, where earthling Nicki Rodriguez has recently arrived, y’know, in that wacko, unearthly dimension of Perswayssick County. This particular morning, Nicki has awakened in canine-humanoid Diroctor Bizzig “Zig” Gneeecey’s four-story pigsty of a mansion. It’s her first day of work at Gneeecey’s GAS Broadcast Network…. Chauffeured in Gneeecey’s ethereal, thirty-two-doored limo by six-foot-tall albino mallard Culvert, they’ve stopped to do some errands before heading to the office. An already nervous Nicki steps out of the vehicle, parked on Perswayssick City’s main drag, Murgatroyd Avenue, and onto the sidewalk….

SFX: [Football Referee Whistle] 

NICKI RODRIGUEZ: “Ya lousy Ig!” Gneeecey dug his sharp fingers into my arm.  

Through stinging tears, I saw only a blurry flurry of flapping wings. A sharp beak stabbed my cheek.  

A growing crowd, including kids on their way to school, circled ’round me and began to chant: 

SFX: [Kids Chanting “Defense”] 

“What the—”   

“It’s stinkin’ chaaampionship mini-sparrow football,” shrilled Gneeecey. “Ya gotta stand still till they complete play!”  

“Huh? But—”  

“If ya move, ya can get fined for interference—”  

I stood up straighter. “Huh?”  

Gneeecey’s bulgy eyes rolled upward. “County ordinance BS 396.3—which I wrote my stinkin’ self— clearly states that birds may use people as goalposts an’ playin’ surfaces, wit’in city confines as they determine fit, durin’ all post-season play—play-offs an’ championships.”  

“I—I don’t understand—”  

“Nuthin’ to understaaand, ya Ig.” 

“But—but—” 

“They were proboobably attracted to your stooopid purplish dimension-burned skin, Ig. Jus’ stinkin’ stand still— let ’em finish. I don’t wanna hafta make a snitizen’s arrest today. Got too much else lousy stuff to do!” 

SFX: [Magic Spell] [Misgivings & Misfortune] [Sneakers Squeaking]

NARRATOR VICKI SOLÁ: Barely recovered from that surreal experience, Nicki races to keep up with a determined Gneeecey as he marches, double-time, toward a very strange shop…. 

SFX: [Magic Spell] [Misgivings & Misfortune]

NICKI RODRIGUEZ: “Sock Repairs” blazed neon letters hanging above the drab storefront.
 Five or six pairs of artlessly displayed socks adorned its dusty window. Bald industrial carpeting, colored several shades of gray, covered the floor. The acrid odor of dry cleaning fluid permeated the place.
 A notice taped to the wall read: “On Premises Sock Repair, Cleaning & Storage.” Another sign warned: “No socks returned without claim ticket! NO EXCEPTIONS!”
 Left eye still running, I traipsed behind Gneeecey, who, with great authority, marched up to the establishment’s crazed Formica counter SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking] and pounded the service bell with both fists. SFX: [Bell] “Gus! I neeeeed you!”
 A gaunt, nearly bald old human emerged from behind a shabby olive curtain and took his place behind the cash register. Cobalt eyes peered out from underneath his unruly salt-and-pepper brows, contrasting with a sallow complexion that resembled baked clay. His face matched his counter top.
 “Bad mornin’, Gus.” Gneeecey pulled two limp, green-and-navy socks from his T-shirt pocket. An uncharacteristic tremble had hijacked his vocal cords.
 “Bad mornin’ to you too, Diroctor,” drawled Gus, looking me up and down like I was a bad auto wreck. His voice was as dry as his skin.
 Gneeecey’s hands quivered as he laid down his shiny knee-highs and stroked them flat. Riddled with runs and snags, they stank. “Can ya fix ’em?”
 “Dunno.” Gus held them up to a bare hundred-watt bulb that dangled from the ceiling. The harsh light rendered his features more severe.
 “Well, can ya?”
 “Yep.” Gus was a man of few words.
 Gneeecey exhaled audibly.
 “But they’ll just tear again. Ya ever considered replacin’ ’em?”
 Gneeecey recoiled in horror. “They’re my lucky socks!”
 “Doesn’t Unigeek’s carry ’em?”
 “Nope.”
 “I see they still stock those, uh, shirts ya wear. Ya ever tried Martian’s, on Wet Cactus Street?”
 “They don’t got ’em neitherwise. Nobody does.”
 Gus flicked the foul foot coverings with his bony thumb and forefinger, wrinkling his gourd-like nose when a cloud of dust exploded from the fabric. “Want ’em cleaned, too?”
 “Nah, Gus, jus’ fix ’em. Can I have ’em back today?”
 “Yep.” The old man removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his watering eyes.
 “Well, Gus, y’know that ol’ sayin’—‘ya weep when ya sew.’” Gneeecey snatched his yellow ticket and waddled toward the door. SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking]
 “Welcome,” muttered Gus, draping the horizontally striped skunks over a doll-sized wire hanger.
 Gneeecey stopped short and spun around, smashing into me. SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking] “One more thing,” he shouted, cramming his claim ticket into one of my new jacket’s five-thousand pockets. “I’ll proboobably send in my new assistant here, the Ig, to pick up my stinkin’ socks.”
 “Yep.”
 “Uh, hi. Name’s Nicki.” I forced a smile.
 “Okay, Ig. Later.” Holding Gneeecey’s stockings at arm’s length, Gus disappeared behind his curtain.
“C’mon—I’ll show ya a little trick.” Gneeecey pushed me back into the limo. “It’s faster gettin’ places from inside this baby. Follow me!”
 I ducked my head down, and on buckling legs chased Gneeecey through one segment after another. SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking]
 “Door number eight!” he shouted. “Puts us right outside Shisskey’s!”
 Greeted by a heavenly-sweet aroma, we floated out of the limousine and into a bakery.
 “Bad mornin’, Burt.” Gneeecey threw down a couple coins. SFX: [Clinking Coins] “The usual.”
 “Comin’ right up, Zig. How ya doing?” Six foot six, with thinning blond hair that went gray at his temples, the white-clad, human Burt’s rugged good looks and muscular build conjured up visions of a high school football star gracefully weathering middle-age.
 “Busy as usual, Burt. Y’know how it goes wit’ us business maggots—we got it rough. even wit’ all our mon-ney, we still got probooblems. Whazzup wit’choo?”
 “Well,” replied Burt, “Mary and I are kinda jittery—did you see the paper? That ‘bakery bandit’ broke into another place, on Stromboli Street. Two blocks away—too close for comfort.” His deep-set emerald eyes settled on Gneeecey.
 The canine-humanoid squirmed. “Yeah, I read all ’bout it.”
 “Sometimes this guy even leaves money on the counter. A guilty bandit.”
 “Chump. I wouldn’t leave nuthin’.” Drooling, Gneeecey inspected the goodies inside Burt’s glass case.
“We’re installing a new, high tech alarm,” said Burt, stooping low to hand Gneeecey an ornate cathedral constructed of whipped cream-covered angel food cake, topped with a plump red cherry.
“I got a cow-wit’-a-clock-in-her-stomach,” proclaimed Gneeecey, eating noisily SFX: [Dog Eating] and sucking the cherry up like a vacuum cleaner. “She’s a high tech alarm—installed her infrared sensors myself.”
“Wow, you installed ’em yourself—”
“Y’know, Burt, I think I’m gonna force Altitude to dress in white uniforms like you an’ Mary. I’m sicka that crummy ol’ Gnorks shirt he always wears.”
“How’s Altitude doing—”
“I’m teachin’ him to run my lousy Gneeezle’s Restaurant. I’m formin’ him into my own
moldiness—he’s my protogheeghee.”
“Altitude must be glad not to be making so many deliveries, driving that tired ol’ Splodge and constantly breaking down—”
“Heya, Burt,” began Gneeecey, plunging his muzzle deep into his cream-covered piece of heaven, SFX: [Dog Eating]  “you an’ Mary comin’ to our next Quality of Life meetin’?”
“We’ll be there. We’re very concerned about—”
“We’re gonna put a lid on that riverbank divlopment—once an’ for all! Divlopment’s very detrootimental for us entrepreneuters. I’m hopin’ the whole merchants’ association’ll back me up.”
“There are actually a couple sides to this.”
“That’s right,” agreed Mary, tying back her honey, shoulder-length hair as she joined her husband behind the counter. The slim, delicate-featured woman’s smile lit up her face, softening its many worry lines. “Approving Question 345 would protect our environment and save the goonafish from extinction.” Her intense gray eyes locked with Gneeecey’s bulgy peepers.
Looking away, he pulled a battered pamphlet SFX: [Rustling Papers] from his shirt pocket and tossed it onto the counter. “Mark gave me a buncha these, to knock some sense outta people’s heads. Read it.” Gneeecey crammed the rest of his snack into his yapper. SFX: [Dog Eating]
“Isn’t he one of those guys who stands by the door all night, watching our meetings?” asked Burt. “He’s your friend?”
Gneeecey licked his goopy fingers. SFX: [Dog Eating] “One of my best friends.”
“Those guys are weird—they always wear the same gray business suits,” observed Mary. “And their eye whites are yellowed, like they all suffer from jaundice.”
Burt nodded. “Complexions are kinda weird, too.”
“Yeah, sort of translucent and waxy—almost amber,” added Mary, as she filled in a shelf with freshly baked apple strudel. “They’re not real friendly, either.”
“Mark, Mark, an’ Mark are okay,” Gneeecey assured them.
Mary glanced down at the canine-humanoid. “They’re all named Mark?” 

“They’re rare-but-almost-identical fraternical sets of triplets,” explained Gneeecey. “They stand in for each other at meetings. Most of ’em are cops, too.”
 “Well,” said Burt, inscribing “Happy Birthday Frank” on a cake, “getting back to riverbank development—actually redevelopment—miercoles production and mierk are really at the heart of this. I, for one, think it would pay to clean up all the mierk and look into zodd.”
 “Pay who?”
 Burt laughed. “Not those guys who run MierkoZurk mining— that’s for sure.”
 I gaped as actual steam poured from Gneeecey’s ears.
 “Give zodd a chance, Zig. we’ve got a plentiful supply—it’s in our soil. It’s everywhere!”
 “It’ll kill youse!”
 Burt handed Gneeecey back his leaflet. “C’mon—it’s a benign, natural compound!”
 “But—”
 “And it’s cheaper,” chimed in Mary.
 “Ya can’t tell meee nuthin’ ’bout cheapness!” shrieked Gneeecey, springing up and down. “I’m the expert!”
 “Out of curiosity,” asked Burt, “where does Gus stand on this?”
 “Dunno,” replied the good diroctor, panting. “If I bother him ’bout it, he might not wanna fix my socks.”
 “Well, in the end, it’s up to us voters.”
 “Fixin’ my socks?”
 Burt and Mary exchanged amused glances, then looked my way.
 “Burt, what bad manners we have!”
 “Yeah, Zig—you never introduced your friend.”
 “She ain’t my friend—she’s only my new stinkin’ assistant, the Ig. She’s, uh, not from ’round here. She’ll be workin’ for me for a while—indefiantly.”
 “Name’s Nicki. Pleased to meet you.”
 “Nicki, it’s a pleasure,” replied Mary.
 “Yes,” piped in Burt. “Can we get you anything this morning?”
 “Nah, Burt, the Ig don’t want nuthin’—she’s too nervoovous to eat. It’s her first day of work—her stomach’s jumpin’ ’round tyin’ itself in knots.”
 “Everything looks so delicious,” I answered, devouring the oversized muffins, pastries, and croissants with my eyes. “But, I haven’t, uh, been paid yet.” I looked at Gneeecey. “Diroctor, maybe you could advance me a coupla bucks?”
Gneeecey stared up at the ceiling, whistling. SFX: [Human Whistle 15505]
Burt handed me a hot, buttered blueberry muffin, the size of a small cake. “On us. Good luck on your first day on the job!”
“This is on us, too,” added Mary, presenting me with a giant Styrofoam cup filled to the brim with freshly brewed coffee. Normal-smelling coffee.
“Thanks!”
“Youse guys would do better sellin’ Merk Perk insteada that igpensive, organical mud.” Gneeecey pulled a glossy, full-color Freak O’Nature Foods brochure out of his endless pit of a pocket.

SFX: [Rustling Papers]
 Burt folded his arms. “Anyone wants a cup of Merk Perk, there’s a Freak O’Nature kiosk on practically every corner. I hear they sell ya the plastic knives and forks ya need to eat the stuff, too.”
 “Jus’ try it—your profits’ll fall offa the charts! I can work it out on a calcooculator for ya. Ya got a calcooculator?”
 “Listen, Zig, we’ve got orders to fill. Take care. And it was nice meeting your friend. Bye, Nicki.”

“Bye, and thanks again, so much!”
 Mary smiled. “Good luck!”
 Gneeecey swallowed the wax paper that had covered his treat. “She’s not my friend! She’s jus’ a lousy tempooporary employee!”
 I followed Gneeecey as he stomped out of Shisskey’s. SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking] “Ya embarrassed me—ya behaved terriboobly!”
 “What?”
 “Try not to act like such a alien next time I bring ya somewhere,” he yelled, elbowing my ribs. “Get in the stinkin’ car awready!”
 I cleared my throat and took a sip of coffee. “We, uh, haven’t discussed my salary or hours.”
 “We’ll disgust financial derangements later.”

SFX: [Orchestra Cliffhanger] [Magic Spell] [Halloween Spooky & Fun Logo]

NARRATOR VICKI SOLÁ: And next week, as we alternate timelines, we return to that other parallel universe where there is no Nicki—(spoiler alert again: yet). But, all heck has broken out there—Gneeecey’s sudden gas attack has caused Holy Krapp Hospital’s new Gertrude Gruesomewalder Wing to be evacuated. Panicked mobs flee, only to see orange monster Urgl circling above, in his flying outhouse. Hope to see you next week!

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] ###