(Smuthers and I in dress uniform. I'm a captain, and Smuthers, wearing glasses, is an uncomfortable lieutenant.)
Announcer: Live until recorded, it's the New Don't Steal Show! (Cheers)
Myself: Good day, fellow citizens of the free world. We here at the New Don't Steal Show are pleased to be able to continue bringing you this quality program through the current war. Let me also say that I am fully behind our infallible government.
Smuthers: You think we should bomb the atheists? My cousin's an atheist.
Myself: Yes, but your cousin is atheist by free choice and never had to worry about getting shot for praying out loud.
Smuthers: Aw, that's just propaganda.
Myself: I believe it. Besides, they started it.
Smuthers: Don't tell me you fell for that missionary monk massacre story in the news.
Myself: Their mangled corpses looked authentic enough to me.
Smuthers: I think it's just an invention to whip us into a war fever.
Myself: Where did you get that idea? Have you been watching conspiracy videos on the internet? If so, please keep it to yourself. I got labeled as some kind of subversive in the last war and I don't want that to ever happen again.
Smuthers: But it makes sense.
Myself: I said that's enough! Don't make me call the MP's. (She backs down.) Folks, please don't get the wrong idea about this show by the idealistic young lieutenant. (Patriotic music.) I assure you that we are both devoted patriots and loyal servants of Her Majesty, Elizabeth ... Regina! (Crescendo.)
Smuthers: We are?
Myself: She's on our currency, isn't she?
Smuthers: I thought Mackenzie was the King.
Myself: No, we're Canadians. We're only allowed to be counts. Keep it straight. And until this war has ended in victory for us, I've promised our new sponsor that we will do everything we can to toe the line here on the home front. Of course, an effective strategy demands detailed knowledge of the enemy, about which I have selected today's guests with the hope that they might enlighten us. So, joining us from the Ministry of Enlightenment, kindly welcome our first guest, Doctor Carl Gall. (Applause. Enter Gall.) Doctor Gall, I hope you don't mind if I ask you directly, what kind of an enemy are we up against here?
Gall: (After a thought) I suppose it could best be summed up as a plague.
Myself: You think so? What kind, bubonic, or...
Smuthers: Don't you think that's going a little overboard?
Gall: Who's this?
Myself: Oh, don't pay any attention to her. She spends too much time on the internet. Please, tell us more about this enemy plague.
Gall: It advances in stages. First you lose control of your tongue. You can't stop it from sticking out at people and insulting them. Before long, everyone hates you. Then your eyes disappear, but you can still see in black and white. Then you develop scales. That's the last stage before regressing into a grotesque, bile secreting reptile, with an unholy appetite for the flesh of slain missionaries.
Myself: How awful!
Gall: You don't have to pity them, they enjoy the transformation. It gives them a sick high to turn into rampaging reptilian cannibals. They probably invented the germ in one of their labs, looking for a new biological weapon to use against us.
Myself: It certainly explains the monk massacre.
Gall: Indeed.
Smuthers: Oh, come on!
Gall: I'm afraid it's true, lieutenant. And what's more, they're spreading the disease to our youth.
Myself: They are? How?
Gall: By infecting popular websites.
Myself: You mean, like Google?
Gall: That's on the list. (I look at Smuthers.)
Myself: Lieutenant Smuthers, I couldn't help but notice that you're sporting a somewhat studious look today. That's a little out of character for you, isn't it? You wouldn't have anything to hide, would you? (Smuthers takes off her glasses and gives me a withering look, eyeballs clearly present and accounted for. I pull a pair of sunglasses out of my breast pocket.) Okay, now, put these on. (She passionately refuses, and we quarrel into the commercial break.)
COMMERCIAL
Myself: One of the recently released hostages from the famous church that was seized by atheist terrorists is a young woman by the name of Ann Lily. Please join me in welcoming her. (Applause. Enter a pretty, shapely brunette. My jaw drops and Smuthers notices.) Thanks for being here. I hope it won't be too hard on you, having to recall such a terrible experience.
Lily: I guess the sooner I face it, the better.
Myself: Tell us about your close encounter with the enemy.
Lily: Oh, it was close, all right.
Myself: Do you mean intimate?
Lily: I'm afraid so.
Myself: Those monsters!
Lily: (Whimpering) They couldn't keep their filthy hands off of us. They locked us in rooms and took turns.
Myself: How horrible.
Lily: They kept going until we were pregnant. And then... Oh, it's too awful to say!
Myself: What did they do? Be strong, the world must know.
Lily: They raped the newborn babies! (She bursts into tears.)
Myself: Did you hear that, everyone? Did you hear what kind of filthy degenerates we're dealing with here, violating women and babies? What an atrocity! I hope the government is watching. There, there, now, don't cry. (I offer her a handkerchief and a lengthy hug.) But things are turning around for you now, aren't they? Tell us about your upcoming tour.
Lily: (Instantly snapping out of her melancholy) The tour? Well, myself and the other two survivors have formed a musical group to tour the globe, singing harmony with a backing swing orchestra. It will help to raise money for the Red Cross Rape Relief Fund. We're very excited about it.
Myself: Terrific. What are you called?
Lily: The Sabine Sisters.
Myself: Clever. We'll be looking out for you.
Smuthers: Uh, can I ask one question?
Myself: If you must.
Smuthers: How could she get pregnant and have a baby in a captivity that only lasted five months? And how could she have sprung back to such a tight figure so fast?
Myself: That's two questions.
Smuthers: But you said-
Myself: Sorry, you blew it. Ann Lily, everyone! (Applause.)
COMMERCIAL: Target for Today
(An air force colonel sits behind a table loaded with ledgers. Enter a bomber crew, saluting casually.)
Colonel: (Returning salute) Ah, marvellous! All back in one piece, eh what?
Pilot: Everyone seems to be whole, sir. I gave the tracking missiles the slip.
Colonel: I should hope so. Else, we'd all be right now burning to death in a ghastly inferno! (Laughter all around.) Now then, how did you do over the aquarium gravel factory?
Colonel: (Entering in a ledger) That sounds like aquarium gravel, all right. (Looking back at them) I say, what about the first three?
Bombardier: They might have hit a school.
Colonel: Can't you tell?
Bombardier: No, sir, it's been completely flattened.
Colonel: I see. (Patriotic music kicking in) Right! No use crying over spilled milk, eh what? Good show, old boys. Why not stop by the brothel on the way home from the pub tonight? You might as well live it up. You never know when you'll be shot out of the sky by some bloodthirsty atheist parent.
Crew: (in unison, saluting) Yes, sir! (End music on triumphant high note.)
Myself: Sometimes the enemy is indistinguishable from a human. It is then that we need one of their own to identify them. As the young daughter of a persecuted worshiper in her native Aetheia, Doris Lavoris, whose father defected to our side along with his family, promises to be very informative in this area. Let's give her a nice, warm welcome. (Applause. Enter an imp of about eleven. I rise and gently usher her to the guest chair.) So glad you could join us! Tell us how much better your life is over here than it was in your country.
Lavoris: Actually, it wasn't so great when I first got here. My teacher used to single me out.
Myself: That's too bad. But she doesn't do it anymore, right?
Lavoris: She can't do it anymore. They took her away for questioning. I recognized her from the parades in Aetheia. She was a majorette in the armed forces.
Myself: Yikes! If she was an enemy agent, she'd sure have it in for you.
Lavoris: Yes, and then I recognized the principal when he threatened to suspend me from school. He was a mailman in my country. After he finished reading our letters, he passed them to us.
Myself: Have they been arrested?
Lavoris: Yes.
Myself: Interrogated?
Lavoris: Probably. I haven't seen them since.
Myself: Good work. People don't realize that we are surrounded by spies! I'm sure your life improved a lot after that.
Lavoris: A little. Then Megan Fillet accused me of cheating on a test.
Myself: Enemy agent?
Lavoris: Courier. Used to operate a paper route back home.
Myself: It's always the last ones you'd suspect. Has she been arrested?
Lavoris: They took her away right after I fingered her.
Myself: (Tensely) Lucky for us all.
Smuthers: And certainly convenient for you, in particular.
Lavoris: Who's this?
Myself: (Loudly whispering to Smuthers) Are you crazy! This girl can get us arrested! (I turn back to my guest.) Never mind her, she's just jealous. Not everyone can be a national hero.
Lavoris: Was she insinuating something?
Myself: No, no! Perish the thought! She's not wearing her muzzle today. I do apologize.
Smuthers: (Baring her teeth) Grrrrr!
Lavoris: Because I'm starting to wonder why your face looks so familiar.
Myself: (Aside to Smuthers) There, you see what you've gotten me into? Are you happy?
Lavoris: Do you play the trombone?
Myself: Doris Lavoris, ladies and gentlemen, stretching out her wings in the free world! (Confused clapping and patriotic music drowns out Lavoris's next question.) Stay tuned for a tune.
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