Myself: Hello out there! Welcome to The New Don't Steal Show. Here I am, back for more. I still haven't been paid for the first round of shows - sigh! - but I won't hold that against all you nice people who watch me in good faith. And we've made some exciting new changes to our format, which we'll be introducing as we go along. One of them is the addition of my charming new assistant, Miss Janie Smuthers. Let's have a big round of applause everyone! (Zoom out to show the girl sitting beside me. She smiles and waves.) How do you like being on the show, Janie?
Smuthers: Why are we in a park?
Myself: New format. Back to basics. We didn't need that overpriced studio. Besides, it's nice here.
Smuthers: It's creepy.
Myself: No, it isn't. You should like being out in the open air where you can enjoy the bright colours of a modern playground.
Smuthers: With no children? I can almost hear their echoing laughter and the tinkling of that dreadful nursery rhyme.
Myself: You're watching too many horror movies.
Smuthers: And what's that over there? Is that a doll? That's spooky.
Myself Don't be silly. It's just a cute little toy.
Smuthers: A child wouldn't abandon her doll like that. I wonder if it was left behind from an abduction.
Myself: You're reading too many newspapers.
Smuthers: Oh yeah? Maybe we should call the cops. A young girl's life could depend on it.
Myself: Who says it belongs to a young girl?
Smuthers: Well who else - oh. (She looks at me cockeyed.)
(Commercial.)
(Smuthers stretches out with a paperback.)
Myself: Could you sit up please?
Smuthers: Why?
Myself: To make room for our guest.
Smuthers: But I'm tired.
Myself: You'll have plenty of time to sleep in the car later. Now get up.
Smuthers: (complying with a groan) Who's the guest?
Myself: He's a magician here to explain some of the mysteries of his profession.
Smuthers: Good. Maybe he can make this book interesting. (She goes back to reading.)
Myself: Taking time out from his busy blackjack tour to amaze us with his ESP, it's Marvin!
(Enter Marvin.)
Myself: So you can read minds.
Marvin: I knew you were going to say that.
Myself: Can you tell us what Janie is thinking right now?
Marvin: I'm afraid not.
Myself: Why not?
Marvin: Because I hear only silence. Young lady, are you sure you are reading that thing?
Smuthers: (looking up) Watch it, four-eyes! (Marvin turns to me and shrugs.)
Myself: Try it on me then.
Marvin: You are thinking 'If I don't act like this guy can read my mind, the audience will want their money back.' Am I right?
Myself: He's right, folks! (Applause.) Wow! That's truly amazing! And I hear you can do more than just read minds.
Marvin: Yes, I can control them.
Myself: Awesome. You must tell us your secret.
Marvin: Nothing to it, really. My father worked for a science lab in the Central Intelligence Agency at a time when they were developing a serum to give their agents mental powers. You can understand how useful such a facility might be to them. As a boy I found the potion on the kitchen counter and drank it, mistaking it for a flask of Kool-Aid.
Myself: You mean the CIA has ESP? Did you hear that, Janie? This is the kind of break I've been waiting for. What a scoop! Oh boy! I'm finally going to be respected! But aren't you worried about compromising national security?
Marvin: No.
Myself: Why not?
Marvin: Because on the count of three, you and everyone watching will forget all that I just told you. One...
Myself: Oh well. It was good while it lasted.
Marvin: Two... THREE!
(Commercial.)
(Smuthers in costume.)
Myself: And this guest needs no introduction, since we all watch her and dream of her as Jeannie! (TV theme song, applause.) And Jeannie, now that your midriff is exposed, you must explain how you made your navel vanish. (No answer.) Jeannie?
Smuthers: Oh, sorry. I can't get used to that name.
Myself: What's it like to be a genie?
Smuthers: Boring.
Myself: Can you do a magic trick for us?
Smuthers: (rolling her eyes) I can only use my powers for the master.
Myself: I see. Then how can I get my own genie?
Smuthers: (producing a water pipe) You need to rub this.
Myself: (I take the bong and rub it.) Nothing's happening. Isn't smoke supposed to be coming out of it?
Smuthers: You make the smoke by putting that hose in your mouth. Now I'll give you a light. (She lights the pipe with a cigarette lighter.) And you inhale. There you are. (Smoke crawls out of the pipe.)
Myself: I could use a drink of water. (I get up to use the fountain.)
Smuthers: There comes your genie now. Can you see her?
Myself: (to the fountain) Are you my genie?
Smuthers: Now you can ask her to grant your wish.
Myself: That's too bad. I can't remember what it was.
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Commercial: Zip-Zap Rolling Papers
(Two hippies share a tobacco cigarette in a basement apartment.)
Hippy #1: Hey myan, pass that thing! (Hippy #2 hands him the cigarette. He takes a deep draw and starts choking violently.) Aw myan! Like what did you use to roll that with? Horse blankets?
Hippy #2: Generic brand rolling papers. Too raunchy?
Hippy #1: Like I can't tell if my vision is blurred from the weed or from my eyes watering. Myan! If only someone could invent like a rolling paper that doesn't interfere with my buzz.
(Enter a familiar-looking bearded French sailor with a lit cigarette between his lips. A trumpet blasts out the first measure of the French national anthem, heralding his appearance.)
Hippies: (saucer-eyed) Who are you?
Sailor: (strong French accent) I am Black Jack Tabac! - zee roughest, toughest sailor in zuh seven seas! Tsk! How did you Eenglish manage to take over zuh world when you can't even roll properly your cigarettes? Here. Try 'zees. (He puts a pack of rolling papers on the table in front of them. Hippy #2 picks it up.)
Hippy #2: (reading package) Zip-Zap -uh- papiers a cigarettes.
Sailor: Zee same brand used by Napoleon when he kicked your Eenglish asses at zuh Battle of Whitby!
Hippy #1: The Battle of Whitby? I never heard of that one.
Sailor: Zat eez because you are culturally biased! Now shut up and roll! And don't make me come here again! (Exit sailor.)
(Later that night. A closeup of Hippy #1's crossed eyes as he puffs blissfully on a tobacco cigarette. Zoom out to show Hippy #2 smiling at him.)
Hippy #2: Is that better, myan?
Hippy #1: Way better. So pure.
Hippy #2: Are you getting the munchies?
Hippy #1: Sure am.
Hippy #2: There's some potato chips in the cupboard.
Hippy #1: No crepes suzette?
(Product shot.)
Announcer: Zip-Zap tobacco rolling papers: The brand of choice for burly, surly French sailors.
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Myself: Well tonight's show is about magic. It's a subject that fascinates me and I'm not learning a bloody thing. But I hope my next guest can teach me how to use this Ouija board. All the way from the Ouija board factory, it's Frank Wright! (Enter Wright. I produce a Ouija board.) Now I understand that you stencilled the letters on this.
Wright: That's my job.
Myself: And you say you can use this thing to open a door to the spirit world.
Wright: Absolutely.
Myself: Why doesn't it work for me?
Wright: You're not holding it right. It should be up tight against your nose.
Myself: (muffled from following the suggestion) Like this? Why?
Wright: So you can get a whiff of that paint.
Myself: (drawing deeply) Is that was that is?
Wright: You should smell it when its wet.
Myself: I see what you mean.
Wright: Can you see the ghosts?
Myself: (putting down the board and pointing to empty space) Yes. That's them, all right. I thought they were invisible but they were just transparent. I guess that means I've never had privacy.
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