Myself: Janie, why are smokers hated?
Smuthers: Because it's unhealthy.
Myself: So is television. I think TV damages people's minds more than cigarette smoking could ever harm their lungs. But all TV knows how to do is tell you how bad everything else is.
Smuthers: It's not the same. When people see you lighting up, they see a person who's killing himself.
Myself: Not fast enough though.
Smuthers: That's crazy.
Myself: Not to the people I've invited onto the show tonight. They would argue that dependence on a substance is not always a bad thing.
Smuthers: They sound like crackpots.
Myself: No. They don't use drugs.
(Commercial.)
Myself: He's a popular lecturer from the Faculty of Psychedelia at the University of Marigold, Professor Jonathan Lowney!
(Enter Lowney.)
Myself: Professor Lowney, do you think the only good drugs are the ones that are prescribed by a family physician?
Lowney: Absolutely not. Some drugs help us to question the world around us. For democracy's sake, I would encourage their use, legal or not.
Myself: Like marijuana, right?
Lowney: (smiling) Yes.
Myself: But what about the physical costs?
Lowney: They're arguable.
Myself: Not in your case, though.
Lowney: What do you mean?
Myself: Well, look at you. You're aging prematurely. You need glasses and your memory is failing-
Lowney: I beg your pardon.
Myself: Some credibility you give my side. A pothead.
Lowney: What? How dare you!
Myself: You can't fool me, professor. I can smell it on you.
Lowney: I never smoked a joint in my life.
Myself: No? I bet you smoke it every chance you get. I bet you even blazed in the lavatory before you came out here.
Lowney: What makes you say all that?
Myself: Just a feeling.
Lowney: That's absurd!
Voice: (English accent) Not to this detective.
(Enter Detective Aaron Fletcher with a German Shepherd on a leash.)
Lowney: Who is he?
Myself: Professor Jonathan Lowney, may I present Detective Aaron Fletcher of Scotland Yard. He's been investigating you.
Lowney: He'll answer to my lawyer for his false accusations.
Fletcher: And you will answer to this dog's nose in a search for contraband.
(Enter a posse. They surround Lowney.)
Lowney: That won't be necessary. I'll go peacefully.
(Exit Lowney in custody.)
Fletcher: (calling after the prisoner) And you better hope they hold your trial here. My people have a high regard for the sworn testimony of dogs.
(Commercial.)
Myself: Good work, Detective.
Fletcher: (lighting his pipe) Well, you know what they say about Scotland Yard. We always get our man.
Myself: Except for Gus the Groper from Queen Victoria's day.
Fletcher: (clearing his throat) We knew his identity. We locked him away and kept it quiet.
Myself: Sure. And the disappearance of Cecilia Airhart in the Bermuda Triangle remains unsolved. Or are you keeping that to yourselves, as well?
Fletcher: I wasn't aware that we investigated it.
Myself: That's probably because you take your Arthur Conan Doyle a little too seriously and go to the lengths of smoking opium to emulate your hero, Sherlock Holmes. It's easy to forget your responsibilities when you're stoned out of your mind.
Fletcher: (pulling out his lit pipe) Opium? Why that's preposterous!
Voice: (German accent) I'm afraid I must disagree with you, Detective Fletcher.
(Enter Doctor Hermann Hoffman.)
Fletcher: Who are you?
Myself: Detective Aaron Fletcher, this is Doctor Hermann Hoffman. He's a psychiatrist.
Fletcher: Well you can go ahead and use some kind of flaky theory to prove your point, but I'm no pothead.
Hoffman: Detective Fletcher, it does not take a trained professional to notice that you have been puffing constantly on that pipe since you got here.
Myself: Yes. What have you been putting in that pipe?
Fletcher: Just scented tobacco.
Myself: Scented with what? Poppy-pourri?
Hoffman: And it doesn't take a detective to find your picture on a list of escaped patients from hospitals for the criminally insane.
Myself: Aha!
Fletcher: Impossible. I escaped from a prison.
Hoffman: This patient has suffered for years from a delusion relating to a detective story he viewed as a child. He takes drugs to help him sustain this delusion. He is a very sad and dangerous individual.
(Enter white-uniformed hospital security staff. They apprehend Fletcher.)
Fletcher: No! I won't go back! (He is subdued by a hypodermic, rolled onto a stretcher, and carried offstage.)
Hoffman: Oh, he'll go back. They always go back.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Commercial: Co-op Movers
(A man sees a hobo struggling to push a shopping cart up a hill. He stops to help.)
Announcer: At Co-op Movers we believe you should get back what you give.
(He loads a piano into the Co-op Movers Van and wipes the sweat from his brow.)
Announcer: For a few hours of your labour, we supply you with a hand to help you move. It saves money and it helps to promote community spirit.
(He tries to get his helper to pick up a lawn chair but the helper refuses.)
Announcer: Don't let capitalism exploit all of your labour power. Put Co-op to work for you.
(The man is passed out in a shopping cart, being pushed up a hill by the hobo.)
Announcer: Co-op Movers. We've got the establishment in a rickshaw.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Myself: It's a relief to finally have someone reputable with me on the side of responsible drug use.
Hoffman: I am a man of proven moral integrity.
Smuthers: Wait a minute. I know you.
Hoffman: Who? Me?
Smuthers: You're the man who used to come up to us in the laundromat.
Hoffman: I don't know what you're talking about.
Smuthers: I was only ten years old.
Myself: That's a serious accusation. I hope you have grounds for it.
Smuthers: I do.
Myself: Like what?
Smuthers: Without looking I can tell you that he has a hairy back.
Myself: Well I'm not going to ask a distinguished guest to strip for an inspection of his body hair. So what if he has it? It's not a crime.
Smuthers: He's a monster, I tell you!
Myself: I'm sorry, but I can't let you stay and malign this man any further. Our reputation has suffered enough after those first two losers. (I clap my hands twice.) Take her away!
(Security staff grab Smuthers and drag her offstage.)
Smuthers: But I know it's him! He tried to lure us into the car by offering us an apple, but we didn't want it- (Fade to silence.)
Hoffman: Where did she get the idea that I prey on little girls in laundromats?
Myself: Please excuse us.
Hoffman: I'm afraid I must insist on compensation.
Myself: All I have is three-fifty in quarters.
Hoffman: Perfect! (I pause to examine him.)
(Commercial.)
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