Hapoopy Hatch Day, Pt. 3

March 3, 2026, “Hapoopy Hatch Day, Part 3,” Episode 239 🎂 Reverse Magic Birthday Chaos?! Numeral Acrobatics, Violin Disaster & Markmen Crash the Party 🔢🎻Stranded Earthling Nicki Rodriguez thought surviving Perswayssick County was hard…. Now she has to survive her own surprise birthday party. 🎉In this wildly absurd episode of Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy, things spiral fast when: 🔢 A living numeral named Nine performs reverse magic and transforms into 19… 6… 16… 61… 91 🎩 Ceiling-grazing flips defy physics 🎻 Zig Gneeecey attempts a violin stunt hopping on one foot while balancing a chair, toilet plunger & champagne glass on his head. 💥 The entire dining room explodes into slapstick chaos And that’s BEFORE the Markmen show up. 🕴️ Two gray-suited enforcers let themselves in. 🚨 They “fix” Gneeecey’s legal problems. 🚪 They hint at a looming meeting. 🍗 And they casually remind him who really runs things. Meanwhile: 🎂 Trick candles refuse to blow out 🚗 Edible vintage cars get devoured whole
🏍️ A Harley-Davidson gets eaten (yes, really) 🍫 Chocolate is declared a vegetable 🐔 A headless chicken lays an egg…. Because in Perswayssick County, logic is optional. But underneath the absurd comedy lies something bigger…. ⚠️ A rival restaurant — Rasputin’s Revenge — is opening across from Gneeezle’s ⚠️ Competition is coming ⚠️ Gneeecey may be losing control!⚠️ Is this just chaotic birthday nonsense….Or the beginning of a power shift in Perswayssick County? If you love: ✨ Surreal comedy podcasts ✨ Sci-fi audio drama ✨ Absurdist humor
✨ Dark satire ✨ Dimension-hopping weirdness…this episode is pure mayhem.🎙️ New episodes weekly  🎙️ Subscribe & enter the chaos 🎧 Listen now🎧 https://perswayssickradio.buzzsprout.com 🎧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 special thanks to Sam Leviatin for Gneeecey’s lovely, tooth-shattering “voaline” music! Artwork Created by Vicki Solá & ChatGPT  

Transcript

Transcript / “Hapoopy Hatch Day, Part 3,” – Episode 239, by Vicki Solá.

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

All content © 2026 Perswayssick Radio: Unearthly Comedy. 

SFX: [Halloween Spooky & Fun Logo]

NARRATOR VICKI SOLÁ:  In this episode, stranded Earthling Nicki Rodriguez continues to, uh, enjoy the surprise birthday party Gneeecey is giving her….

SFX: [Magic Spell] [Misgivings & Misfortune] [Cuckoo Clock]

NICKI RODRIGUEZ: The living, chrome-yellow numeral named Nine placed his tall, transparent top hat at his nearly invisible feet, upside-down. His hands, arms, and legs were nearly invisible, too.
 “Heya, Nine, ya ready to perform for us?”
 “Yes, Diroctor Gneeecey,” he answered, as he positioned his chrome-yellow cane to his right, with a flourish. SFX: [Reverse Magic Spell]  [Magic Glitter] “Here goes, all you non-numerals!” SFX: [Reverse Magic Spell]
 Gneeecey’s mouth opened wide. “Now, you’re a nineteen!”
Nine laid down his stick and launched himself into an upward trajectory that culminated in a ceiling-grazing somersault. It deposited him headfirst into his hat. SFX: [Reverse Magic Spell]
The clear headgear created the illusion that he floated a foot off the ground. “A six!” roared Gneeecey, pounding the tiles with his fists. “This is so cool, I caaan’t staaand it!”
Nine picked up his cane and positioned it to his left. SFX: [Reverse Magic Spell]
“A sixteen!” shrieked Stu.
SFX: [Reverse Magic Spell]  Flubbubb gasped. “Now he’s a sixty-one!”
Nine flipped again and landed upright. SFX: [Reverse Magic Spell]   He appeared to feel a bit queasy. SFX: [Slide Guitar] “A bit rough on a full stomach,” he volunteered, patting his gold cummerbund. “But I’ll carry on—”
“You integer,” barked Gneeecey. “Ya stinkin’ better not, y’know, all over my beaudiful dinin’ room!”
Flea and Flubbubb gawked at Gneeecey.
“I am a whole number, factored by myself, plus a distinguished prime, and one here, who humors me by standing in as my patient sidekick, enabling me to parody double-digits,” declared Nine, raising his walking stick.
“And that he does faithfully, rather than exercising his more, I’m sure, preferable prerogative, that of recusing himself from these proceedings, hilariously colorful as they might be.”
Gneeecey chucked a bucketful of Styrofoam peanuts at the numeral. “Why don’cha go home and square yourself!”
Nine’s face glowed a deep orange. “I shall not discuss exponents—or any of my rather fascinating multiples.”
Twirling his cane, the digit leapt into the air and hovered, for a split second, before executing a quadruple-flip and touching down lightly, as a ninety-one. SFX: [Reverse Magic Spell]
Black-furred canine-humanoid Flea clung to me, doubled over. “Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha! Look at that, Nicki!”
Golden-furred canine-humanoid Flubbubb fell to his knees. “Be sixteen again!”
“No!” yelled Gneeecey. “Not in my dinin’ room!”
“That’s it, folks,” proclaimed Nine, dusting himself off. SFX: [Slide Guitar]
Everyone clapped, except the apparently inebriated old living wooden chair, Mister Bonbeeederhead, who snored in a corner SFX: [Cartoon Snoring], a frilly, rose-colored lampshade adorning his knobby noggin.
Knowing I hated eating noises, Gneeecey shoved a handful of packing peanuts into his yapper, and, smiling triumphantly, crunched them in my face.
“You don’t eat that!” I exclaimed, aghast, as the others crammed fistfuls into their mouths.
Flea tugged gently on my sleeve. “My good friend,” he said, chomping, “the questions are the answers.”
Silly me.

And silly Gneeecey. “Heya guys, looky here! I got some good tricks myself!” shouted the canine-humanoid. “Watch me balance this chair, plus this toilet plunger an’ beaudiful glaaass champagne glass on my head, above my left eyeball, while I count backwards while I play my voaline an’ hop on one foot! Lemme tune up my voaline!” SFX: [Voaline 4]

“Ya mean, your violin,” chimed in Flea.

“That’s what I stinkin’ said, Fleaglossitty! My voaline! An’ stop always corrugatin’ me!”

“Don’cha think this is a little overly ambitious on your part, Zig?”

“Shaaaddup, Fleaglossitty—you’re jus’ jealous! Watch me!” SFX: [Voaline 4] [Slow Circus Loop] [Comedy Boing] [Voaline 2] [Glass Shatter] [Bang] [Dish Ceramic] [Wood Demolition Bang] “Ten—nine—eight—seven—six—five—four—three—two—one—” SFX: [Crash Metal] [Metal Crash 1 & 3] [Splash Water 5] “Yaaaaaah—” SFX: [Slip] [Slip & Fall] [Comedy Accent] “Ow! My lousy bimbus!”

“Oh, Zig,” said Flea. SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking] “Oh, looky, it’s a couple of  your, uh, friends….”

SFX: [Scary Ambience]
 “Uh, t-to whadda w-we owe the p-pleasure of your visoositation?” stuttered Gneeecey, rising to his feet as blond, big-nosed Mark and tall, brown-haired Mark swaggered into the disaster of a dining room.
 “We let ourselves in,” replied the dark-haired Markman. “Livin’ room window was open. as usual.”
 “Well now, whadda we got here?” inquired the blond, surveying the scene.
 His humorless buddy stomped his cigarette out on the floor. “Decadent debauchery, no doubt.”
 “Yup,” agreed the other one, adjusting the strap on his canvas backpack. “You’d think Doc had more important stuff to worry ’bout, these days.”
“We was jus’ havin’ a hatch day party for the Ig—we—we—we  was jus’ havin a hatch day party,” stammered Gneeecey. “Heh, heh, guess it is kind of a waste of time.”
The gray-suited men glared at me, then turned to him. “We were in the area,” said the yellow-haired one, “an’ we needed the bat’room.”
“Youse certaintaineously know where it is. Here’s a coupla Susan B. Anthonies. Free seating, if ya know what I mean, heh, heh….”
“An’ Doc, we fixed that ticket for ya—the one that punk cop Imbroglio issued ya.”
“Ya mean when all the milk spilt?”
“Yeah, that would be it. An’ we fixed Imbroglio, too. He jus’ handed in his badge.”
“Yeah,” added blond-haired Mark. “We kinda helped him, heh, heh, y’know, ripped it offa his shirt.”
“Glad youse got ridda him, but I can, y’know, fix my own tickets—me bein’ the all-powerful Grate Gizzy an’ all,” replied Gneeecey, a trace of humiliation evident in his tone. “Hadda good defense for that accident—low blood glucosamine.”
“Whatever.”
Gneeecey held out a tray of tiny vintage, cream-topped toy cars. “Want a horse divorce? I call these ‘Trafooofic Jam in a Blizzard!’ Used whooped cream from last year’s first snowfall.”
Gingerly, Flubbubb reached for a froth-slathered, red-and-white ’57 Chevy.
Gneeecey slapped his hand, and the car crashed to the tiles. SFX: [Dish Ceramic]  A tiny wheel popped off and rolled out of sight.
“Look—look  what’cha done, ya dope!”
Flubbubb stooped to pick it up. “Sorry, Zig—I didn’t mean to—”
“Siddown! I was ofooferatin’ these goodies to Mark an’ Mark—not yooou!”
Flubbubb backed away slowly, looking daggers at the Markmen. Altitude sneered, overjoyed to see him spurned once more.
Jaw clenched, the golden-haired percussionist watched as blond Mark devoured a green ’66 Chevy Nova, and brown-haired Mark wolfed down a white ‘75 Caddy.
Licking their peeling amber fingertips, the two headed upstairs for Gneeecey’s Electronic Water Cyclone.

SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking] [HumanWalkUpstairs] [Misgivings & Misfortune]
 “Okay, folks,” announced Gneeecey, “Time for cake!”
Everyone scrambled back to the table. I didn’t know Stu could move so fast.
Gneeecey slid a lopsided tower of gray, half-baked batter under my chin. “Made it myself. Cheaper.”
“Uh, thanks...I think.”
“The half wit’ soap flakes an’ salt that was in the colder parta the oven rose up an’ sunk after the other half—wit’ the lard an’ Rotzelberry rind—rose up higher,” he explained. “That’s why it came out a little uneven. Stinkin’ make your little Ig wish an’ blow out the candles. Ain’t gonna bother singin’ Hapoopy Hatch Day. That way we can eat sooner!”
Squeezing my lids shut, I made my wish.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Flea pouting. The superhero’s ESP must’ve enabled him to read my mind….
“Blow out the caaaandles awready, ya Ig!”
There were only three. Three puny, purple candles.
I took a deep breath and blew. And blew. And blew and blew and blew.
Gneeecey could barely speak. “Heh haah, heh haaah—trick caaaandles!”

SFX: [Magic Spell] [Misgivings & Misfortune] [Cuckoo Clock]
“What’d the customer say,” asked Gneeecey, “when the waiter spilled soup in his lap?”
 Flea shrugged. “Dunno, Zig.”
 “There’s soup on my fly! Get it?”
The superhero yawned. “Yeah. Uh-huh. Ha, ha.”

“Ya don’t gotta say it like thaaat, Fleaglossitty, so oogdimonious!”
“Did’ja know,” interrupted Flubbubb, “chocolate’s a vegetable?”
“An’ so are yooou,” growled Gneeecey.
I stared into space. This would be a rough day for my family. I rolled a red, cream-laden ‘65 Corvette down the table. “Still can’t believe you guys eat these.”
 “Ig, ya ain’t seen nuthin’. Once I devooverated a whole motorcycle.”
 I sat up straight.
 “He had help, as I recall,” piped in Flea. “‘Zig, Flubbsickles an’ me were sophomores at the University of Hardenoxx, back on our Planet Eccchs. Crammin’ for finals—pretty stressed out.”
 Gneeecey swallowed my red Corvette, whole. “Sophoophomoronic stress.”
 “One night, we put down our books—for Flubbsickles and me, it was Earth lit an’ conversational Booolabeeezian, and for Zig it was marketing an’ proctology. We all went down to Rasputin’s Revenge to grab a bite.”
 Sighing wistfully, Gneeecey crammed bubble packing into his mouth.
 “That was Bozovia’s most popoopular hangout for us collogical kids. Best tastin’ hardware this side of the universe—we at Gneeezle’s still ain’t come close to dooplooplicatin’ their secret recipoopeys.”
“Anyway,” continued Flea, “we ordered coffee, to stay awake. Merk Perk, y’know, that’cha eat wit’ a knife an’ fork, like we got here.”
“Then we got hungry,” said Gneeecey.
Flea chuckled. “We ordered a custom Harley-Davidson Sportster—cherry red, chrome-plated.”
“An’ you guys convinced me to put the whole tab on my folks’ EccchsCorp credit card,” added Flubbubb.
Gneeecey grunted. “We stinkin’ paid for it in the end. That nex’ summer, we hadda work it off at Camp Bingaboonga—”
“That’s on our moon Cronon—”
“Stop interrupticatin’, Fleaglossitty! As I was sayin’, we spent the whole crummy summer at Camp Bingaboonga. Cleanin’ orgnocks.”
I pushed away my uneaten slice of cake. “Orgnocks?”
Gneeecey glared at me as if the whole thing had been my fault. “Cronese latrines.”
“That chopper  had a 1200 cc engine,” remembered Flea, reaching for a doodle. “The three of us picked all night—finished off the whole bike.”
“Hadda floss with steel cable that night,” recalled Flubbubb.
I laughed. “Like I said, I can’t believe the stuff you eat. Look at the gray rocks you’re munching on, now, Diroctor. SFX: [Explosion] Package says, ‘Avoid contact with mouth.’”
“That’s a disclaimer—ya can’t take them serious. Why, even transmission fluid’ll make ya sick if ya drink too much. Youse Earthlings are the weird ones.”
“Don’t Earth people name their kids after hurricanes?”
“Yupperooney, Flubberooney, they certaintaineously do.”
“Really?” Stu’s open, cake-filled mouth resembled an overstuffed, front-loading washer, as its contents revolved in full view.
“Her people even named one of their presidents after a vacuum cleaner. or was it a resoosevoover? Musta been Hoovoover Resoosevoover, ’cause it rhymes.”
“Leave her planet alone, Zig,” ordered Flea, tilting backwards in his chair.
“Bust my chair an’ I’ll send ya up in one of them heloolicopters you’re so afraida flyin’ in.”
Donkey-humanoid Stu flew out of his seat. “Can I fly it? Pleeeeeeeease?”
“An’ furthoothermore, Ig,” added Gneeecey, paying his intern no mind, “a chicken witnessed your whole sky fallin’.”
“Any of you guys,” interrupted Flubbubb, “hear ’bout that headless chicken named Sievehead, over in Cashville? The one wit’ the plastic funnel stuck down his throat?”
“For Bogelthorpe’s sake, ya Flubbarooney, I was makin’ a point—”
“They say after living on diet lemonade while tap dancing to belly dancing music for forty-five days, he laid a egg an’ bit the crust!”
“Ya dope—”

SFX: [Sneakers Squeaking] HumanWalkDownstairs] [Scary Ambience]
 “Bye, Doc,” sang Mark and Mark, poking their waxy faces through the doorway.
 Gneeecey waved a trembling hand. “Want some cake before youse go?”
 “Nah,” answered the blond, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder. “See ya at the meetin’.”
 Brown-haired Mark stuffed a bottle of Dalmation beer in his pocket. “Let’s hope ya got’cha act together by then.”
 “I will! I aaaam! I mean, I promised youse guys!”
“We’ll let ourselves out. As usual.”
“Th—thanks again,” stammered Gneeecey, as he bit up and down his arm, spitting out clumps of fur, “for thinkin’ of me when youse needed the bathroom!”
“We always do.”

SFX: [Misgivings & Misfortune] [Cuckoo Clock]
“Don’t know if I’ll make this next meeting,” said Bonbeeederhead, waking up and stretching his stiff oaken arms. “I’m being refinished that day.”
“I really hoped ya could make it—they’re persecutin’ us. We’re jus’ trynna protect our way of life!”
“Don’t worry, Diroctor Gneeecey—things usually stay the way they are.”
Giant mouse Altitude tapped Gneeecey’s shoulder. “Ya know what I heard, Boss?”
“What?”
“We’re gonna have competition.”
“Compoopetition? What’cha mean, mouse?”
The rodent yanked a thread from his dirty jersey. “I overhearded this guy who got outta this shiny black limo tellin’ Mister Qwertyuiop that a Rasputin’s Revenge restaurant is openin’ up on Murgatroyd Avenue, across the street from Gneeezle’s—right after Grimace.”
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!”

SFX: [Bassoon, Comedy] [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 special thanks to Sam Leviatin for Gneeecey’s lovely, tooth-shattering “voaline” music!

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

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