(URGENT MORSE CODE BEEPS)
TR: And now fast-acting reliable Eldorado Brand Deodorant Tablets brings you----- Roy Bradley, Boy Broadcaster --- (DRAMATIC THEME) ---- formerly a highly-paid radio personality, Roy gave up the glamor of the entertainment business to work out of his father's garage on the south coast of Florida, using the medium of radio to reach out to the lonely and troubled and respond to calls of distress wherever they may be----
(RADIO DIAL TURNING, STATIC. TR ARABIC. DIAL TURNS. TR RUSSIAN. DIAL TURNS. TR SWEDISH)
GK: Short wave transmissions coming in from all over. Signals strong tonight. Atmospheric conditions are ideal in winter.
SS (OFF): Roy? Roy? Supper's on! I made meatballs!
GK: I can't come, Mom. Too busy!
SS (OFF): But you've got to eat, Roy!
GK: I don't want my mouth to be full if someone needs me, Mom! (DIAL TURNS. TR FRENCH) There could be ships in distress. Ranchers stranded in blizzards. Airplanes lost in the clouds. I need to stay at my post. (DIAL TURNS)
SS (ON RADIO, FAINTLY): Help. Help. Hurt bad. Please. Somebody. Please.
GK: According to my radio pathfinder, that signal is coming from deep in the Okeechobee Swamp. Come on, Fang. (WOOF) To the airstrip!! (DRAMATIC STING)
SS (MOM): You're not going out tonight, are you??? It'll be dark soon.
GK: Someone's in trouble, Ma. I've got to go.
TR: Moments later, in the cockpit of his trusty biplane White Blaze....(PROPELLER TURN AND ENGINE FIRES)
GK: Got your goggles on, Fang? (WOOF, PROPELLER REVS AND PLANE TAKES OFF) It's straight ahead. Up there. Heavy fog out tonight. Mists rising from the swamp. We'll have to land on that gravel road and make our way in on foot. Hang on, Fang. (PLANE GOES INTO DIVE, BRIDGE)
TR: Landing on the narrow dirt road, Roy Bradley and Fang make their way into the dense swamp, guided by the radio pathfinder. (BIRDS CAWING, NIGHT SOUNDS, AN OWL)
GK: Gosh, the vegetation is dense. (HACKING AT BRUSH) Look out, Fang. (SNAKE RATTLE) Don't move a muscle. (SNAKE HISS) I'll just ease this knife out of my belt and ----- (HURLS KNIFE, BWANGGGG. SNAKE CROAK) Got him. Let's go, boy. (WOOF) (BRUSH) Sometimes I wish we'd stayed in Minnesota, Fang. A little snow and cold is nothing compared to this Florida jungle--- (FLIES BUZZING) ----- oh oh, the deadly tse-tse fly---- they carry sleeping sickness germs ---- (AEROSOL) there, got em with the bug bomb----- oh oh---- (GATOR HISS) (DOG BARK) Quiet, Fang. A male alligator. I can just see his eyes. Fourteen feet long, I'd reckon. (GATOR SNARL) Just about to attack. Guess I'm going to have to pick up this old rotted log and when he comes at me----- (GATOR SNARL, MOUTH WIDE) I'll shove this down his throat. (GATOR GAGGING, CHOKING) There. Run, Fang. Go. (FAST FOOTSTEPS IN MUD, SPLORTS GK PANTING) There's a cabin up ahead, Fang. Go. (FAST SPLORTS)
TR (REDNECK): Hey. Who all's out there?? Who's a comin'?
GK: Just us, sir.
TR (REDNECK): You're not from the IRS comin' to take away my guns and make me sign up for Obamacare, are you? Force my women to use birth control?
GK: Oh oh. We've run into a nest of rednecks. (COON DOGS OFF) And their dogs. (SHOTGUN BLAST) I'm going to have to resort to deception, Fang. Hold off your dogs, sir! We are Republicans!
TR (REDNECK): What kind of Republicans?
GK: Tea Party!
TR (REDNECK): What brand of tea? You ain't talking organic tea, I hope----
GK: No, sir. Inorganic tea.
TR (REDNECK): You ain't talking some kind of fair-trade tea from some hairy-legged workers cooperative type of thing, are you?
GK: No, sir. Chinese tea.
TR (REDNECK): Good. You may pass, brother.
GK: God bless you. (FOOTSTEPS, SPLORTS) (BRIDGE)
TR (ANNC): Making their way through the undergrowth, at last Roy and his canine companion arrive at the precise location of the distress call, a four-bedroom rambler with a fence and a gate around it.
GK: Hello? Is anyone at home?
SS: Hello? Who are you?
GK: I heard your call of distress on the radio.
SS: Oh. Right.
GK: That was you? You said "Help. Somebody, please. Hurt bad."?
GK: How badly are you hurt?
SS: Well, my boyfriend Bobby and I got to arguing about this weekend and where should we go, to the beach or to the stock-car races, and I said that I was supposed to sing at an open mike at a coffeehouse and he said that I am fat and I can't carry a tune in a paper sack and who did I think I was kidding.
GK: And that's all?
SS: Well, it hurt my feelings.
GK: Is he still here?
SS: He got drunk and passed out about fifteen minutes ago.
GK: Did he hit you?
SS: He wouldn't dare. He hit me once before and I stood my ground and pulled out my .358 Magnum and I blew his left ear off. Told him next time I'm going to aim slightly to the right.
GK: Okay. So you're not injured.
SS: I just told you. He hurt my feelings.
GK: Okay. Well, we just flew about fifty miles and walked for a mile and a half through a dangerous swamp to come and help you.
SS: Well, as long as you come this far, would you like to hear my music?
GK: If you give us a ride back to where the plane is parked.
SS: Okay, come on in through the gate.
GK:Okay. (ELECTRICAL SHORTING, GK CRY OF PAIN)
SS: Sorry. The fence is electrified. Just stay there. Let me grab my guitar. (GUITAR STRUM) You ready?
GK: Ready as I can be.
I got the blues, the Florida blues
I'm in a swamp, up to my shoes.
I could really use a masseuse,
I got the Florida blues.
It's too humid, and it's too warm,
How I long for a nice icestorm
I could put on my snowshoes
And a parka too.
GK: Okay. Thanks. Let's go, Fang. (WOOF)
Why did I come to the Florida Keys,
I miss the snow and the tall pine trees,
I ask you please let the snow fall
On old St. Paul.
(BRIDGE) (FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL)
GK: Well, there's the plane, Fang. (DOG WHINE) I know. Time to be heading home. That old compass is pointing north, pal. We'll head for Kentucky and pick up the big river and head up to where it turns white and follow it on into downtown St. Paul. (WOOFS) (THEME)
TR: Once again Eldorado Deodorant Tablets ---- they keep you smelling fresh as a daisy for up to three months at a time ----- has brought you ROY BRADLEY, BOY BROADCASTER. (RADIO BEEPS) Join us again next time when we hear Roy say......
GK: It's me, Miss Lollapalooza. Roy Bradley. You wrote me a fan letter.
SS: You're so much more handsome than I ever imagined. Come in, won't you?
TR: That's next week on ROY BRADLEY BOY BROADCASTER.