PARODY TIME-THE BLYTHES ARE QUOTED

THE BLYTHES ARE QUOTED

THE PIPER

I will protect you,

I’m so in love with you.

I will protect you

From the Papists and the escapists,

From snares and tares and other things.

Fire coming down,

It’s the final round,

Salvation of souls,

The ultimate goal.

I will protect you

From the evil in the night.

Use all power on Heaven and Earth

Give the wicked ones a fright.

Gosh, I’m so in love with you.

Jesus returns,

He comes down,

Making everything better

For His people all round.

SOME FOOLS AND A SAINT

Midnight. A storm. Curtis and Henry see Alice in the downstairs hallway as they cross the farmyard. They enter the house. They tackle her and drag her into the parlour. Punching noises are heard.

Alice Harper: Police brutality. Police brutality.

Curtis Burns: All right, lady. What’s going on here.

Henry Kildare: Did you do this for antimicasars or something?

Alice: Antimicasars. I don’t need no steenking antimacasars.

(She wrenches herself from their grasp and rushes from the parlour. Curtis and henry Chase her through the hall, up the stairs and into the attic. Alice throws open the attic window and leaps out. She bounces off the roof, then falls into the yard.)

Henry: Alice. Alice. Are you all right?

Alice: I think I’m paralysed, for real this time.

Curtis: Well, the way I see it there’s only one solution to this problem.

(He exits the attic. Henry stands there. After a few minutes, he sees Curtis enter the farmyard. He sees Curtis lift Alice off the ground. The sounds of footsteps, doors opening and groans are heard. Curtis re-enters the attic with Alice in his arms.)

Henry: My gosh, man, you could kill her like that! Have you taken all leave of your senses?

Curtis: No, in fact this is the most practical thing I’ve ever done. (He lifts Alice up and heaves her forcefully out the window. She misses the roof entirely this time and falls directly into the yard. She gets up, brushes herself off and begins exiting the farmyard. The sounds of squealing breaks and a thud are heard.)

Henry: Well surely now she’s dead.

Curtis: Yes, I knew that would be the cure for paralysis.

Henry: Thank goodness that modern medicine has brought us the motor car.

(They exit the attic.)

TWILIGHT AT GREEN GABLES

Open on the front porch of Gilbert and Anne Blythe’s house. Anne, Gilbert, their children, and Susan Baker are sitting on the porch. Crickets and other night sounds can be heard in the background, as well as the sound of rocking chairs creaking.

Anne Blythe: I think I’ll read the most recent poem I’ve written.

Walter Blythe: Wow, will you look at the time. I’ve got to be getting up to bed.

Jem Blythe: I just remembered some chores I need to finish.

Rilla Blythe: I think I have some homework left to do.

(Everyone except Gilbert scrambles off in different directions, leaving Anne sitting their looking dejected.)

Anne: (Inwardly) One day at least one of you will be dead, then you’ll be sorry. (Out loud to Gilbert) Well, I guess they all remembered they had legitimate reasons to do things that don’t involve listening to my poetry at the exact same time.

Gilbert: (Inwardly) Or it could be your poetry just sucks. You’d think, by the hundreds of rejection letters she’s received, she would have clued into that by now. My gosh, they’re holding up short legs of furniture, and we’ve got a powerful lot of furniture that has short legs. (Out loud to Anne) Well, Anne-girl, whatever thing I’m supposed to say that will console you at this moment in time.

Anne: Oh, you mean you’d like to sit and listen to my poetry, Gilbert?

Gilbert: No, I’ve got a whole bunch of housecalls to make.

Anne: Oh really? Whose sick?

Gilbert: Always someone sick somewhere, my dear Anne.

Anne: (Inwardly) Always some lonely woman that wants a man to visit her somewhere. (Out loud to Gilbert) Well, since you’re undertaking once again the duties of your medical calling, my dear Gilbert, don’t on any account, especially mine, your dear wife’s, hurry back.

Gilbert: Wouldn’t dream of it, Anne-girl. The longer I can be away from here, the happier I feel.

Anne: Well, your happiness is my only concern, my dear husband.

Gilbert: It’s mine, too, Anne-girl. (Puts on his hat) See ya.

(He strides off the porch and down the driveway, whistling the whole time. He gets in the car and drives off.)

Anne: Of all the times to have just had the steps repaired. And of all the times not to know anyone who manufactures car bombs.

I WISH YOU

I wish you

All the worst ever,

I wish you

Happiness never.

You walked out on me,

Ruining my life,

You will fall

On my bowey knife.

I wish you

All these malicious things

Lots of spider bites

And scorpion stings.

May anything positive

Be far from you

And might I add

Screw you, too.

THE OLD PATH ROUND THE SHORE

When you and I were young

We’d walk on that path by the sea,

Stroll along the old way by the shore.

Well, it pains me to relate

Though no longer should I hesitate,

To tell you

The old path ain’t so pleasant anymore.

Where once tall trees stood

For the earth they did much good,

Now condoes and skyscrapers

Take their place.

Where once we could be alone,

Secluded from everyone,

You can’t go nowhere

Without seeing a human face.

Some say progress is always good,

And sometimes it certainly could

Or can be

But not when it comes to our dear shore.

GUEST ROOM IN THE COUNTRY

Y’all come,

Is a saying that’s worn but true,

Y’all come for a stay

In our pleasant country home.

Come stay and clear your head

We got a sofa bed

You can rest and ease your cares

In our guest room.

Breakfast’s fairly early in the morn

But if you’re really worn

We’ve got other stuff to eat

Whenever you get up.

Recharge your batteries,

Plenty chuckles, laughs and tee-hees,

Staying with the folks

In our guest room at the farm.

Come as you are,

Leave not the same,

At our home down yonder,

We’ll always know your name.

AN AFTERNOON WITH MR. JENKINS

Lawyer’s office, daytime. Edith, Katharine and Mr. Jenkins are sitting around Marvin Megaweasel’s desk.

Marvin Megaweasel: The way I see it this case is going to trial. That’s the way I see it.

Mr. Jenkins: What earthly reason would the court have to try me.

Aunt Edith: Because you—

Marvin: Let me handle this. Well, for starters, you kidnapped Timmy from Ms. Edith and Katharine’s home on the afternoon in question.

Mr. Jenkins: I only wanted to take him to the resort.

Aunt Katharine: We may be a couple of old maids and this may be 1910 but even we aren’t that naive.

Mr. Jenkins: I’ll have you know nothing of that sort happened.

Marvin: That’s true, but there’s still the issue of the kidnapping. And, let’s not forget the threats you made.

Mr. Jenkins: Whatever are you talking about?

Marvin: You initially put forward an action to take Timmy away from Katharine and Edith, correct?

Mr. Jenkins: Yes.

Marvin: Then, after meeting with the young boy and taking him to the resort you withdrew your letter of custody. Is that correct?

Mr. Jenkins: Yes, I did.

Marvin: However, with some conditions upon which, if broken, you would reinstate your petition for custody.

Mr. Jenkins: You can’t mean—

Marvin: You said Timmothy’s aunts must put raisins in the rice pudding on Friday nights, desist from making the boy take music lessons and let him sleep with the light on.

Mr. Jenkins: Yes, but—

Marvin: Were you serious about these demands, Mr. Jenkins?

Mr. Jenkins: Yes, I was.

Marvin: Sir, do these not sound to you like unreasonable conditions for letting two relatives be the custodial guardians of a minor?

Mr. Jenkins: No.

Marvin: For starters, what does it matter if Timothy gets raisins in his rice pudding?

Mr. Jenkins: The boy said he liked raisins, Mr. Megaweasel.

Marvin: Additionally, why shouldn’t the boy take music lessons?

Mr. Jenkins: He didn’t want to take music lessons, sir.

Marvin: Yeah, screw broadening his horizons and all that jazz.

Mr. Jenkins: Kind sir, this is 1910. I do not believe that at this time men, certainly not men of your office and stature used that kind of language, especially in front of women.

Marvin: Oh come off it. There were church bells in “Julius Caesar.” Lastly, to the matter of letting Timmy sleep with his light on because as you said in your afydavyd, “He’s scared of the dark, yo.” Now who’s being historically inaccurate?

Mr. Jenkins: Well, you see, there were church bells in “Julius Caesar.”

Marvin: Mr. Jenkins, young Timothy has to get over these childhood fears. He’s got to grow up and face his fears and problems someday, you know.

Mr. Jenkins: Why? I never did.

ROBIN VESPERS

While on a walk one evening,

I heard a robin sing,

Its sweetly lilting melody,

Through the air did ring.

It stopped me in my journey,

My travels I did abate,

And as I stood there listening,

I did contemplate.

I thought how in a world,

That’s full of strife and woe,

Something like a robin’s vespers,

Humans still could know.

I thought if we could take away,

Something of what we heard,

Things just might be better,

In this topsy-turvy world.

As I stood there on the pathway,

Mulling over that,

The dear sweet little robin,

Was eaten by a cat.

NIGHT

Night is a special time for me,

All throughout the year,

Keep listening to my words, dear friends,

And of those times you’ll hear.

I love the night in summer,

When twilight fills the sky,

Though it’s late in the evening,

Daytime will not die.

I love the late night in the fall,

When there’s a nip in the air,

Partake of it in the backyard,

Or sit inside in an armchair.

The late night in the winter,

The silence the snow creates,

Broken only by passing snowmobilers,

For this time all year they wait.

The air at nighttime in the spring,

A different quality its nip possesses,

Bringing with it its promises,

Of heat, vacations and dresses.

THE MAN

The man says very malevolently,

“There better not have been anyone else before me.

No other lips that you have kissed,

If they’re have been

I will rectify this.”

Moving as if wearing canvas shoes

The man resolves to cure his blues.

Tippy-toeing round the bed

Aims the blow at his wife’s head.

The blow does not end her life

The man deliberately pulls his knife

Blood from her body,

Glee in his eyes,

That’ll teach you

To see other guys.

Lest you should be left

On the fence,

The man meant that

In a literal sense.

THE WOMAN

The woman relates this tale

Of awful force,

When she meets her husband,

In the court of divorce.

Whether its true,

Whether she lied,

It matters not,

Cause with her the judge’ll side.

Alimony is owed,

And child support,

Cooking his goose,

Is her bloodsport.

All the man’s things are gone,

Including his bed,

“I should have stabbed her for real,

Then we’d both now be dead.

THE NEW HOUSE

‘Tis moving in day

To our new abode

A McMansion in the exburbs,

We will never afode.

The movers broke, lost or stole,

Most of our stuff,

They’re now sitting drinking beer,

Inert on their duffs.

Right now I just want to

Go to sleep for a week

And awaken to find

Our new house nice and chic.

We should never have purchased,

This money pit of a place

But at least the movers will vacate,

For I’ve found my Mace.

We’ll unpack the bedroom,

In storage we’ll keep,

The rest of our stuff,

For we’ll only be here to sleep.

RETRIBUTION

A hospital room. Clarissa Wilcox is sitting in a chair some distance away from the bed, at a slight angle toward the bed. David is lying in bed, motionless.

Clarissa: And so there you have it, blind, strokey, paralysed David Anderson. The employee you had jailed for theft all those years ago was really John Lovel, the illegitimate product of your and my sister Blanche’s affair. And your son is really the product of your perfect, pure, delicate wife Rose’s affair with Lloyd Norman. And, once again, David Anderson, be assured I will tell the whole town of all this, even before your funeral.

(Clarissa realizes David has died while she’s been talking.)

Son: (On a hitherto unseen computer screen) Well, you’ve already published the news, you old biddy.

Clarissa: Well, Mr. Anderson, I had no idea. How---

Son: Don’t you mean Mr. Norman, at least according to all you’ve just said? I was FaceTiming with Dad because I’m on a long voyage and it’s the best way to keep in touch. Also, this is streaming on the internet on a site for people who like to watch old men dying, so yeah, the whole world knows now, lady.

Clarissa: I’m from the early 1900’s. I am utterly unable to grasp anything you’ve just told me.

Son: Then suffice to say that, as you wished, all the things you revealed to my father just now have been published, as I believe they called it back in your time.

Clarissa: Oh, I wish I were dead!

Son: That makes two of us. (Pause) Oh, actually that makes 25 thousand of us in the last five seconds.

Clarissa: How---

(The nurse enters and looks at David’s body in the bed.)

Nurse: He’s dead. We’ve been expecting it all day. Well, actually, for the last several months, in fact. We don’t call it end-of-life care around here for nothing, you know.

Clarissa: Well, that’s the end of that, I guess. And, you know, really none of it should have ever happened. Not David and Blanche, or Blanche’s death, or the way John Lovel was treated, or everything with Rose and Lloyd Norman. It shouldn’t have happened because I should have married him. I fancied that man since I was a little girl at school. (Sighs) Maybe if I had bothered to come visit him after Rose had died, maybe somehow things--- Or maybe even sometime in the last several months, when I first heard about the stroke.

Nurse: I don’t think that would have worked out either, hon.

Clarissa: Whatever do you mean?

Nurse: Well, after Mr. Anderson was admitted and I learned he was the David Anderson, who owned the shipping company, I found a minister and the minister married us.

Son: Hey, nurse, could you look into the webcam, please. (The nurse looks into the webcam) Waaa, Mommy, waaaa, waaa…

(He carries on like that through fade-out.)

THERE IS A HOUSE I LOVE

There is a house I love,

Called the House of the Lord,

A temple made of people,

Not brick, stone or board.

Whilst strolling along the beach,

Or at the coffee shop,

The House of the Lord’s always in reach,

No need to make a stop.

Where two or three are gathered,

God, He is there, too,

Whenever Christians gather,

Who are believers true.

No clergy and no laiety,

All part of royal priesthood,

Every single Christian,

Contributes to the good.

All minister to one another,

And to the world at large,

Everybody ministering,

For this is Jesus’ charge.

We’re all living stones in God’s temple,

Each one playing their part,

Different gifts in individuals,

To do with the human heart.

To become part of God’s own house,

Do not hesitate,

Look in your Bible,

At Acts 2 verse 38.

SEA SONG

I stood there on the Pacific shore,

Not afraid as I was before,

Eagerly wanting to play in the surf,

To explore and frolic on ocean turf.

I jumped in the waves,

That California morn,

A new activity,

Having been born.

In those Pismo Beach waves,

I had a ball,

And learned to time them,

So I did not fall.

Since hurting my knee

Some years after then

I’ll never jump

In waves again.

THE TWINS PRETEND

Open on the sitting room of Orchard Knob. Jill, P.G. and Anthony Lennox are standing at the door to the outside. Beatrice enters carrying bags of food. The entire inside of the house is decorated in an ugly, gaudy manner, including the furniture.

Anthony Lennox: Betty, is that you?

Beatrice: Anthony Lennox! When the kids told me about this housewarming I was working on my blog, “I’m the World’s Best Mums” so I was barely paying attention.

Anthony: I’m so glad you could make it, Betty.

Beatrice: So am I. I hear the kids did quite a lot to help you whip this place back into shape.

Anthony: They most certainly did.

Jill: I was solely responsible for all the interior decorating, Mom.

Beatrice: Well, it looks…good, dear.

Jill: Thanks. When I passed by the store and I saw there was a sale and how much all the furniture and other stuff was marked down, I figured they must be awful nice people to let people have their stuff for so little that I went in and bought a whole bunch.

Beatrice: Bought a whole bunch?

Anthony: She used one of my credit cards. I told her she could.

P.G.: I did a lot, too, Mom.

Anthony: He sure did. That boy can dig a hole for and install a swimming pool as well as a grown man.

P.G.: And I’m not half bad at making a tennis court, either, if I do say so myself.

Anthony: You sure aren’t half bad.

Beatrice: Listen, Anthony, I might as well come right out and broach this. All those years ago, the reason I wasn’t wearing your ring when you returned from England was all the rumours said you’d met an English girl, even a member of the nobility, some said, and were head-over-heels in love with her and intent on marriage.

Anthony: Well, the rumour mill said similar things about you. Some flashy chap who’d visited with his family as one of the first tourists around here.

Beatrice: We were both stubborn fools. We should have brought all this up to each other back then. Listen, since the kids Dad died, I’ve been in need of security so … do you think we could get back together?

Anthony: A most excellent idea. In fact, we shall be married as soon as law and Gospel allows.

Jill and P.G.: Hurray!

Jill: That’s so terrific. We’ll have a real dad again, and I can’t think of any father I’d want more than Anthony here.

P.G.: Yeah, having a dad again will be so cool. … Well, I guess that food isn’t gonna eat itself.

Beatrice: Just one thing, though, Anthony. I don’t wish to sound indelicate or too forward but what exactly do you do that gave you the means to be able to fix up Orchard Knob like this?

Anthony: Oh, I own a string of magazines.

Beatrice: Well, I should hardly think that’s a very profitable trade these days, things being what they are with the internet.

Anthony: Actually, it isn’t which is why I’m getting out of publishing magazines and going into a new, more modern, cutting-edge trade.

Beatrice: And what’s that?

Anthony: I’m going to open up a data mining firm disguised as a social networking site.

TO A DESIRED FRIEND

I’d like to get to know you,

Though we’ve known each other for years,

We’re really just acquaintances,

Never shared laughter and tears.

What with being away

And being blind,

And one thing and another,

I only ever hear about you

On the street when I see your mother.

I’d like to have known you better,

Been there when your kids were babes,

Held and cuddled and cared for them,

And had them climb up my legs.

It’s so hard for me to connect with people,

Not least because I can’t see,

Still I have to go on hoping,

That there’s a chance for we.

MIDSUMMER DAY

They go on and on,

Yet move so fast,

The days of summer

Seem to pass.

The weather is stifling

But also fair

Since we spend months huddled in blankets

In our easy chair.

No shortage of parties,

Or time to relax,

Check out lots of events,

Enjoy it to the max.

Warmth in Canada,

Is a precious thing,

So from sweet, humid summer,

Every joy I will wring.

FANCY’S FOOL

March, 1917.

Open on the great hall of a palace. Allardyce and Kristena are sitting on the couch. A servant enters.

Servant: An angry man with a gun and a set of chains to see you, sir and madam.

Kristena: Send him in, Jevski.

(The Bolshivik enters.)

Bolshevik: Count All--- Al--- Shiftless foreign princeling, come with me, and you, too, Countess Kristena.

Allardyce: I am count Allardyce of the outermost frozen bits of Siberia, I’ll have you know.

Bolshevik: Whatever you call yourself, you are toast.

Kristena: Out of here, peasant, or I shall have my husband have the guards arrest you.

Bolshevik: No, I think it is you two who are going to wind up arrested. The main branch of your family, the Romanovs, have already been arrested, well except for Anastasia, no one can seem to find her.

Allardyce: Arrested! Well, what on earth are you going to do with them?

Bolshevik: I don’t know. Possibly shoot all of you once you’ve been rounded up.

Allardyce: Well, don’t shoot cousin Alexei, for goodness sake. He’s a hemophiliac, he’ll die from blood loss.

Bolshevik: Well, maybe if your family cooperates with us you will be returned to the throne.

Kristena: Well, what do you want?

Bolshevik: We want fair wages and working hours for all those who toil in the factories. Also, we want better conditions for them and all the rest of the peasants. Third, the people want more of a say in what goes on at the highest levels of power. Fourth, we want all-and I do mean _all raisins out of our rice pudding.

Allardyce: Your demands are nothing more than lunatic ravings, lowliest of the serfs. My in-laws never should have abolished the provision whereby you could be bought and sold in the first place.

Bolshevik: Those are killing words, Count.

(He begins blasting away at Allardyce with the gun. Allardyce doesn’t flinch. The gun runs out of bullets.)

Allardyce: And to think, my Kristena, you wanted to have me committed when I set about having my mother’s jewellery sewn into my skin.

Kristena: I never wanted you sent to an asylum. Well, I thought you might have been mad at first, but then Rasputin said you weren’t insane and I figured he should know.

Bolshevik: My patience has run out, spoiled imperialists. (Holds out chain) Come with me.

Allardyce: Very well, serf. But just tell me, what are you going to do once you take over the country.

Bolshevik: We will build a communist empire that will be the epitomy of long life, know-how, engenuity, and where the people will be completely free to speak their minds without fear of reprisal. The whole world will love us and seek peace with us.

Allardyce: I really don’t think you and your “comrades” can achieve any of those things.

Bolshevik: Quite the contrary, Count. When it comes to ruling a country, I truly think we can hack it.

REMEMBERED

Some say the past is a distant land,

But sometimes it seems so close at hand.

You want to forget but can’t unknow,

All those things from long ago.

To be sure there are memories pleasant and fair

And I love to spend hours wandering there,

But all the mistakes and careless words,

I wish would vanish,

Never to be heard.

I’ve moved on somewhat

After paying my due

Making memories all happy and new,

But how do you forget,

Even though you’ve forgiven,

And are trying your best,

To go on living.

A DREAM COMES TRUE

Open on a coffee shop. Two millennials enter and sit down at a table. A member of the staff comes up to them.

Staff: Sorry, guys, but the wi-fi’s down.

First Millennial: Oh man, that means we’re going to have to, like, talk or something.

(The staff member walks away.)

Second Millennial: So, uh, what’s the sitch?

First Millennial: Oh nothin’ really. Same old same old. Played World of Warcraft, then Mindcraft, then Fortnight, then some Pokemon GO on the way over.

First Millennial: Cool.

Second Millennial: You ever wonder what it would be like if life were different? I mean, we spend our days fighting monsters and building cities and having adventures on the sea and in space and stuff, but do you ever wonder what it would be like if we lived in everyday, y’know, reality?

First Millennial: Reality?!

Second Millennial: Yeah, like what life would be like if we had jobs and our own places and spouses and children and stuff.

First Millennial: Dude, don’t keep wishing you had a more real life. Just be happy with the one you got.

(The second millennial starts to imagine living a “real” life. They can be seen at their desk in an office, mowing their lawn, helping their children with their homework, and various other normal, domestic activities.)

Second Millennial: (Inwardly) Oh man, I have so much stuff to do. I’ve got hardly any time for gaming, or online gaming, or esports, or anything like that. I mean, maybe like six hours a day at most, and that’s only if I somewhat to seriously neglect other stuff. (Outwardly) Nooooooooooooo! (They look over at their friend who is playing with their phone.) Oh, I guess the wi-fi must be back on.

FAREWELL TO AN OLD ROOM

On this final night before leaving school

Soon to be done with the staff and their crazy rules,

I lie here in my residence bed,

Thinking of all that has been said.

This time of night was a special kind,

After lights out we would unwind,

And talk together, one on one,

About every topic under the sun.

My roommates and I over the years,

Would mull over all hopes, dreams and fears,

Night after night at this school for the blind,

One of the few joyous things I would find.

So as I await tomorrow’s graduation,

I think back on all those conversations,

About this place I can’t believe this,

There’ll actually be something that I’ll miss.

THE HAUNTED ROOM

Every room in this house

Is a haunted one,

With memories of things

Both said and things done.

No refuge or comfort,

In my childhood home,

As I return,

With memories alone.

Whether dining room, kitchen,

Bedroom or yard,

Every step and door opening,

Is unbelievably hard.

Remembering every harsh action,

And every cruel word,

Such things to a child,

Should never have occurred.

The hours pass by,

I sit here quite still,

The undertow of trauma,

Near making me ill.

As I walk round this house,

I realize with a start,

There’s only one haunted room,

Its address is my heart.

SONG OF WINTER

Why does everything have to freeze,

Including the cartilidge in my knees,

Give me the flowers,

Peaches and blueberries.

Oh, how I hate winter.

Why does winter have to make everything hard,

From walking to driving,

Everything is marred,

This winter transporting,

Is leaving me scarred.

Oh, how I hate winter.

Winter’s inconveniences everyone knows,

From hats, mittens and scarves,

To blowing your nose,

Year round spring is what I propose.

Oh, how I hate winter.

The sameness of winter,

Or the winter blah,

Stuck in the house,

Until the thaw,

Accompanied only by the crow and it’s caw.

Oh, how I hate winter.

“But wait”, I hear some of you shout,

“Winter’s all right if you get out,

Skiing, skating, ice fishing” no doubt,

Yeah, but that’s not what this poem is about.

Oh, how I hate winter.

PENELOPE STRUTS HER THEORIES

Open on a radio studio. The parenting expert is in a glass booth in front of a microphone.

Parenting Expert: How are you today? I am the parenting specialist and I’m ready, willing and able to answer all your questions about the raising of children. Whatever the problem I’ll take your call and answer your questions as best I can, which is the best in the world because I’m a parenting expert. And the phone lines are lit up like my Christmas tree when it set the house on fire last holiday season. Let’s take our first caller, Mrs. Collins. Welcome to the show, Mrs. Collins.

Mrs. Collins: Good day, doctor. How are you?

Parenting Expert: Well, if I were doing terrible I couldn’t talk about it or I’d get fired.

Mrs. Collins: In your book and on your show, I’ve heard you say you shouldn’t even think about toilet training a child till age three.

Parenting Expert: That’s correct. That’s what I say, all right.

Mrs. Collins: Well, given the fact that children in other cultures are trained much earlier than children in the West, and that in fact Western children have traditionally been trained much earlier than three up until very recent history, shouldn’t we be looking at what people did and do in these cultures and time periods in order to proceed in an informed way on this issue?

Parenting Expert: No. As I always say, we don’t need to look to history or other places to learn anything. Just do what is recommended in the here and now and don’t worry about consequences. Let’s take our next caller, Mrs. Crosby. Hi there, Mrs. Crosby.

Mrs. Crosby: Hi there, Doctor, how are you?

Parenting Expert: Roughly the same as I was two minutes ago when the last caller asked me that.

Mrs. Crosby: Very good. To follow up with the last caller on the toilet training issue, I’m wondering if not beginning toilet training till well after three as you suggest might have bad consequences after all. Mightn’t it lead to physical problems in that area of the body in the future, or might the child be traumatized by being kept in diapers so long, seeing as children start to have memory at that point?

Parenting Expert: Well, first, just as an aside, I like to think of my advice not as suggestions but as commandments, but I digress. Getting back to your question, there is no evidence, that I want to believe anyway, that shows any of those bad consequences you were talking about. Let’s go to our next caller, Mrs. Loree. You’re on the air. Mrs. Loree.

Mrs. Loree:Hello, Doctor. Thank you for taking my call.

Parenting Expert: Well, if I didn’t take calls you listeners would get mad, stop listening, the advertisers would pull their sponsorship, and I’d get canned.

Mrs. Loree: I’m calling about the issue of co-sleeping. Now, experts such as yourself say it’s dangerous, but I’ve heard of many couples doing this and they’ve never had any problems.

Parenting Expert: Now, do these people take precautions such as not using alcohol or drugs, being of a reasonable weight and placing the child in such a position so they won’t actually get smothered in the night?

Mrs. Loree: Oh, they most certainly do.

Parenting Expert: Well, I would still not recommend co-sleeping. I and other parenting experts agree it’s dangerous, and if an expert says something is wrong or dangerous, you shouldn’t question it or go any further, such as to ask, “What lifestyle choices or aspects of the way this was being done or used could have made this dangerous?” Also, I wrote a book advocating for not co-sleeping on the grounds it was dangerous and that anyone who did it was a melonhead, and it would really hurt my pride, not to mention sales of the book if I were to come out with a new book incorporating what you’ve just told me about your friends.

Mrs. Loree: Well, it’s not just a question of whether or not a safety issue comes into play. I’m also wondering about the philosophy of cry it out involved with co-sleeping or not co-sleeping. Don’t infants need that constant contact and that reassurance that Mommy and Daddy are there for them? Wouldn’t it be better to share a bed on those grounds?

Parenting Expert: Look, I practiced cry it out with my own two children. Today, they’re in their forties. They live in my basement. Y’know, we’re one big happy family. Funnily enough, they’re the ones who deliberately set the Christmas tree on fire last festive seasonal occasion. Anyway, the one-because I raised them genderless-runs a subscription website where they describe the daily goings-on with their toenails to people. They’re doing really well with that, by the way. They made a dollar this month; someone subscribed-I’m so proud of them. The other, well, at least from what they’ve told me, gives back by being a stay-at-home volunteer rum taster for the LCBO.

Calum Scott – No Matter What

When I was a kid,

I realized I was gay,

I went to tell my mother,

That I was that way.

She gave me a great big hug,

Said “I love you no matter what”,

That’s how I became empowered,

To be a homosexual slut.

Went and told the kids at school,

Their reactions left me chilled,

So I formed a GSA,

And I had them all killed.

I told my dad

I told my relatives

I told my dog,

I told my cat.

But somewhere way deep-down

I still had a feeling that

Not everyone in the world

would accept me without fail.

So I became king of the world

Had all homophobes locked up in jail.

Inside me, though,

Despite the lyrics

Of this cheery song,

I still knew that being gay

Was absolutely morally wrong.

I committed suicide,

Like so many other gays.

In the background on the TV,

It showed the Toronto Blue Jays.

Aaa,

Eee,

Iii,

Ooo,

Uuu,

Yyy.

Emile Sande – Read All About It

You’ve got the words to wreck the world,

And you’re sharpening your tongue,

From every virtual and real wall

Your posters are hung.

You spend your life yelling out your message,

Heedless of the effect,

The facts simply do not matter,

You’re morally correct.

We hear it constantly,

We have to put up with your song,

In my opinion you’ve been given

Too much for too long.

You work for Satan the roaring lion,

Disguised as an angel of the Light,

Saying, “It’s just a different lifestyle,

So therefore it’s all right.”

You shout and you scream

At people just like me,

You say that you want tolerance,

Except for those with whom you disagree.

You’ve been waking up the neighbours,

Screaming at your partner every night,

Party down with drugs and booze,

After Marching for gay rights.

You say the truth has been forbidden,

But you don’t want the rule,

Of the Way, the Truth, the Life,

In your sins you are a fool.

So let’s have the revival meetings,

Put up the crusade tents,

It’s about time these homosexuals,

Learned the real version of events.

We aren’t wonderful, lovely people,

We’re dead, steeped in our iniquity and sins,

But our Saviour Jesus Christ,

Died to take us out of them.

So turn your eyes to Him,

From this stage I shout and shout and shout,

Repent and then get baptised,

And learn what real love’s all about.

Halsey – New Americana

Viral celeb,

Famous for doing absolutely nothing.

Died in a YouTube challenge,

Where she ate teddy bear stuffing,

Here, right now,

Forgotten the very next microsecond,

The voice of the people,

People like her are trying to wreck it.

We are the new Americana,

Dead from synthetic marijuana,

Too young for Biggy or Nirvana,

I’ll get my parents to finish this chorus for me.

As a child,

Never had a proper father,

As a teen,

Couldn’t decide if she would rather,

Marry a girl

Or a boy.

It’s safe to say,

She won’t be bringing home

A bundle of joy.

Chorus:

We don’t know who we are,

We can’t hold up the façade,

Want to spend everyone else’s money,

Maybe this is the wrath of God.

Chorus

Reconciliation

Open on a street. Myrtle Shelley is standing in front of a house, looking in the window. She approaches the door a couple of times, but then backs away.

Myrtle: (Shouting) Lisle. Lisle Stevens, or, I guess I should say now Lisle Rogers. It’s me, Myrtle. Myrtle Shelley. You remember we were such good friends as girls. We played together all the time, were always at each others houses or off in the woods together. You remember that night at the barn dance when I saw you dancing with Ronald Evans. I shouted at you and slapped your face. Ronald Evans, he came from Toronto or Montreal or Summerside or someplace real exotic like that. I’d had my eye on him all summer and we got together every chance we could, or I should say I contrived to run into him every chance I got. I’d bump into him at the ice cream parlour, church, around town, other barn dances, in the root cellar of the house he and his family were staying in, but I never had the nerve to ask him to go with me. The most I ever really did other than small talk was to leave three-day old buckets of fried chicken at his door. Then you arrive back in town after visiting your relatives for several weeks and just sweep him off his feet. Oh, how mad I was. And it was all so silly. We never saw him again after that. And all so long ago. Oh, Lisle, please forgive me. Please. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you never did for the rest of your life but I’d really like it if you could find it in your heart---

(The door opens. An old man appears.)

Old Man: Excuse me, miss, but this isn’t Lisle Rogers house. She lives next door.

(Myrtle slaps the old man’s face.)

THE CHEATED CHILD

Open on a sports stadium.

Bob Cole: Hi there. I’m Bob Cole and today you’re going to witness something I guarantee you never have before. The Brewsters and the Andersons are going to settle the dispute over little Pat Brewster in a variety of whacky ways which will leave both families scarred, torn asunder and penniless, so it should be some pretty good entertainment, folks. So we start this tournament with a conventional sport, but since the two families could not agree on which sport that would be, one team will be playing hockey while the other team plays baseball. The puck drops and here’s Joe Brewster with the pitch. And the ball just sails away because there’s no one in the outfield. The Andersons are stickhandling the puck, and now Barney Anderson has come up with the brilliant idea of just shooting the puck into the net. Score! Score! Score! Score! Score! Score! Score! And the Brewsters see this and cousin Oscar, Uncle John, cousin Joe, and cousin Bill are just beating up on the Andersons. And the Squaw Baby sticks her tongue out at the Brewsters. And those four Brewster guys don’t like that. They’re beating up the Squaw Baby and I think one of them’s got a knife. Holy moley is this getting exciting. And now they’ve resorted to whacking each other with pillows and I think dining room tables if I’m not mistaken. All the members of each family are in it now. We have got a class A brawl goin’ on here today folks. Things are happening too fast for me to accurately describe them, ladies and gentlemen, although then again I always sound like I’m calling an entirely different game from the one that’s being played anyway. And now Pat has been pulled off the sidelines and they’re both quite literally fighting over him. Here they go shooting him with the hockey stick. Score! And they’ve pulled him out of the net and here’s the pitch, and swing and a miss for Holly Anderson in the outfield. And Lillian Hall is dribbling Patrick. Skinny little guy: doesn’t bounce well. And she takes a shot and it’s a slam dunk. Well, that widow woman may be good at b-ball but it appears Patrick is dead, well, hopefully just unconscious. The team doctor is coming out now. He is examining Pat Brewster … and yeah, Patrick Brewster is dead. And the fans are starting to riot because it’s over before they’ve had a chance to get properly drunk and who can blame them, folks. (Don Cherry enters) And now here’s Don Cherry with his thoughts.

Don Cherry: Thanks a lot, there, Bob, Well, I know I’m going to get in trouble no matter what I say because our world is run by a bunch of sissy sjw-types with literally no brains in their heads and literally no ability to think whatsoever. However, all I’ll say about the events you’ve witnessed here today is let’s do that all over again, using Ron MacLean this time. Oh, and thanks, social justice warriors, for doing immigrants feeling and thinking for them.

FOOL’S ERRAND

Open on the front porch of a house. Lincoln Burns knocks on the door. A young woman answers.

Lincoln: Miss Janet Blake?

Janet: Is that you, Lincoln Burns?

Lincoln: I guess so. Don’t know rightly.

Janet: How long has it been?

Lincoln: Well, I was eleven when we met for the first and only time so…

Janet: Thirty-some years. Oh, where are my manners. Don’t just stand out here on the porch, come in. As it happens, I’ve just baked a sand pie.

(Lincoln enters the house and sits down at the kitchen table. Janet takes a sand pie off the windowsill and sets it before him.)

Lincoln: Why, thank you, Miss Janet Blake.

Janet: So, do you have that West Indian shell you promised me all those years ago?

Lincoln: It’s on the bookshelf at home. Yup, got that thing from an Indian who lived all the way out in Alberta.

Janet: How delightful!

Lincoln: So, what you been up to all these years?

Janet: Oh, not much, really. Actually, I haven’t done much of anything: no traveling, didn’t take up any interesting hobbies, still live in my parents’ house, no beaus.

Lincoln: You don’t mean to say you waited for me all these years.

Janet: I most certainly did. When I met you that day when we were eleven I knew you were the only boy I would ever want. You weren’t rambunctious like all the others. You were quiet and thoughtful and caring. I made up my mind then and there if I couldn’t have you I’d have no man.

Lincoln: I don’t know what to say to that except (gets down on one knee) miss Janet Blake, will you marry me?

Janet: Yes, of course I will!

Lincoln: (Starts digging into his sand pie and brings a forkful to his mouth) You know I just can’t believe it. All these years you waited for a boy you met when you were eleven who said he’d come back and marry you someday. And you’ve been baking sand pies every night in hopes I’ll arrive for you to serve one to me.

Janet: Oh no, I haven’t been baking sand pies every night.

Lincoln: Then how is it you happened to bake one the very night I returned?

Janet: Oh, I work for the U.S. National Security Agency. I keep track of all the cellphones in this area. When you set out for Mowbray Narrows this afternoon, I knew it and got to work baking this sand pie. Now eat up! It’s got stone currents in it.

THE POT AND THE KETTLE

Open on a community hall. People are sitting on chairs at the side of the room. An auctioneer stands onstage in front of a microphone.

Auctioneer: All right, folks, it’s now time for the auction part of this barn dance. Let’s start off with a pie, shall we. That’s always popular. Let’s see, I think I’ll choose this pie right over here. (Gestures with his hand) Say, what kind of pie is this, anyway?

Pie Lady: Apple lemon cherry beef chicken. Have your main course and dessert all in one.

Auctioneer: Wow, that sure does sound like a good idea, miss. And we’ll start the bidding at one dollar. (As he is auctioning the item, people put up their hands) One dollar and do I hear two and three and do I hear four, come on someone give me four---

Bidder 1: 1000 dollars.

Auctioneer: 1000 dollars, folks, do I hear 2000, and 1000 bucks, do I hear double, 2000, 1000 dollars going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman over there. (Slams gavel) Now, our next item is the concept of time. Again I’ll start the bidding at one dollar, and a dollar, (As above, as he is auctioning the item, people are putting up their hands to bid) And two dollars over there and three, three dollars and four, four dollars and five, do I hear five, five dollars and do I hear six, six dollars, six dollars anybody, the concept of time going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman over their for five dollars. (Slams gavel) All right, folks, our final item up for bid tonight is this rotten tomato. (Again, people put up their hands to bid throughout) And do I hear fifty cents, and fifty cents and do I hear a dollar, and a dollar, do I hear two dollars, and three dollars, four dollars, five dollars, six dollars, six dollars and do I hear seven dollars.

Bidder 2: 8 billion dollars.

Auctioneer: And 8 billion dollars and do I hear sixteen billion dollars, sixteen billion dollars, eight billion dollars going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman sitting over their.

Old Lady in Audience: (To her friend) Why didn’t they have sand pie this time. They usually have sand pie at these things.

Friend: Janet and Lincoln are on their honeymoon.

Old Lady: People too busy or far away on their honeymoon to contribute sand pies to a community dance. What is this world coming to?

Friend: A certain point in its travels round the sun, if I know my science.

Old Lady: I suppose you’re right, but why does it half to arrive at that point in its trip now and not somewhere else?

Friend: Well, it’s always gotten to that position at this time of year before.

Old Lady: Yes, but why does it have to stay the same. I don’t like change.

Friend: You just uttered two entirely contradictory phrases.

Old Lady: Oh, I ate that rotten side of beef they had on the auction table.

Friend: You shouldn’t have. The procedes from that were supposed to go to the community.

Old Lady: I signed over the deed to my house and my power of attorney in exchange.

Friend: Oh, well, I guess that’s all right then. You’re one real pillar of the community.

Old Lady: I actually did serve as a pillar of the community for about a couple decades till they got the town built up. Never got paid for holding up all those walls, mind you, but was I ever glad to do it.

Friend: I think that’s how we met. I was standing next to you.

Old Lady: You might have been standing next to me as a fellow pillar or you might have been trying to knock me over.

Friend: Oh, yes, that was how we met. My friends and I used to play “knock over the pillars of the community.” Oh that was such fun.

Old Lady: You and your friends caused me a lot of serious injuries.

Friend: (Chuckling) I know we did.

Old Lady: But, mind you, it was all for the good.

Friend: That it was, that it was.

INTERLUDE

Sharon: Hi, we’re Sharon and Bram with a couple public service announcements.

Bram: First, we’d like to remind you to donate to UNICEF, at Haloween or anytime of year. Sure, there are many organizations you could donate to that are trying to do the same thing, many of them reputable, Christian organizations.

Sharon: And sure, the money is most likely going to wind up in some dictator’s pocket.

Bram: But the bottom line is we are in favour of a new world order and it can’t get built without you suckers putting coins in UNICEF boxes, so do it already.

(A holographic projection of Lois appears.)

Lois: Don’t forget, guys, that the UN likes to screw around and waste time while reputable, Christian organizations are busy with the boots on the ground making a tangible efert to help people.

Bram: You’re right, Lois. And don’t forget, those organizations also promote Jesus, which is the really important thing. After all, eternity is forever and this life is only temporary, so if somebody doesn’t have Jesus, they truly have nothing.

Sharon: We’d like to also remind you to get your kids vaccinated. Sure, there’s a lot of evidence showing they don’t work and that proper sanitation, nutrition and hygene are the way to prevent these terrible diseases.

Bram: And viruses mutate very quickly so it probably wouldn’t protect your child even if they contracted the disease anyway

Sharon: But the new world order needs a sick, dumbed-down population it can easily control so give those kids their shots already.

Lois: And, besides, who are you going to believe: the large, multi-national pharmaceutical companies that make money from every vaccination sold, not to mention your three favourite childrens entertainers from the eighties, nineties and 2000s, but mainly the eighties, or people who are fighting an uphill battle to get the truth about the dangers of vaccinations out there. This holographic projection, well, let’s just say she’s no dummy.

(The holographic projection of Lois disappears.)

Gram: Well, Sharon, its time for us to also do what parents have been wishing children’s entertainers would do for generations and disappear, too.

(They exit.)

XTC – DEAR GOD

Dear XTC,

You don’t want God to make it better,

You just want to criticize,

Looking at the world around you,

Through merely physical eyes.

You blame God,

But on the other hand,

It’s all the fault of man.

People are starving on their feet,

Because man doesn’t meet,

The needs of fellow man.

All the people fighting over Him,

Have a perception that’s dim,

Of God,

There behaviour’s untoward,

He never said “Convert with a sword.”

Made a perfect world,

With only one rule,

Professing themselves wise,

Man became fools.

Don’t want God’s perfection,

Devil’s rule is what you get,

That’s why the hunger, wars and poverty,

Continue even yet.

The devil and his angels will be judged in the end,

And all those who make him their friend,

In order to avoid this fate,

See your Bible, Acts 2 38.

THE ERIC METAXAS SHOW

Open on a radio studio.

Eric: Welcome back to “The Eric Metaxas Show.” So I’ve already spent a good chunk of this hour shilling for the various charities and products I usually do, but before I get to the guest, I just want to mention a few things. First, Catholics totally are Christians. I mean, sure, technically, or more than technically, with the doctrine of the emaculate conception and the doctrine of transsubstantiation they’re bringing another Jesus, really, but come on, it’s not like the Bible says anything about people who are bringing another Jesus. And, yeah, they do twist the Scriptures of the New Testament. Sure, “upon this rock I will build My church” doesn’t mean Peter was the first Pope; it means Peter was the little rock, one could say an imitator of Christ, and Christ is the big rock. And OK, the verse about binding and loosing means Christians are to allow in the church that which God has permitted and forbid that which God has forbidden, and yeah Catholic priests practice flagulation, which is a grievous twisting of the verse where Paul says he buffets his body, but folks, I’ve got an audience to grow and I can’t be ticking people off by pointing out the truth. Second, C. S. Lewis is my homeboy. Just because the Chronicles of Narnia is beloved by new agers and contains aspects of the specific pagan cultures God warned the Israelites against doesn’t mean it isn’t 100 percent evangelical Christian. Third, watch my show on TBN. Now I know we get a lot of listeners who are discerning Christians who know TBN is a complete crock, but how am I supposed to lead you astray if I can’t get you to tune into TBN, people? Well, that’s it for the show, folks Tomorrow I’m going to be live and taking phone calls, and let me tell you, with my busy schedule as a writer, event host and conservative media pundit, it’s a wonder I even have time to do this show at all let alone do it live. Until next time this is Eric Metaxas saying remember, I use secular bumper music so that means I’m different.

NEWSFLASH

A group of social justice warriors were severely beaten with two by fours at a recent protest in the United States. The SJWs were rushed to hospital and given immediate treatment but still sustained severe brain damage as a result of their injuries. Doctors say this will not effect the social justice warrior’s lives in any way.

Russian president Vladimir Putihn’s entire government has resigned. Spokesmen in 210 other countries are wondering how they can get the same thing to happen in their nations.

In America, the impeachment trial for president Donald Trump continues with Democrat and Republican senators alike upset they’re being forced to do actual work. An anonymous senator comments:

“ It is so hard and gruelling. I mean, you wouldn’t believe. Farmers and factory workers here in America, or child labourers in foreign countries, are lucky not to be working even one tenth as hard as we are with this thing.”

At the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, teen climate activist Greta Thunberg explained to deligates why they need to take the problem of climate change seriously:

“Look, guys, I have no science background, I have no real education on this subject, but we need to reverse climate change: something your generation has failed at miserably. Therefore, I have coined a new phrase which will be a new paradigm for how the entire world is to live from this second forward, and we’re talkin’ until the end of time here. The new phrase is, “Don’t trust anyone over thirty”.”

A boatload of Syrian refugees almost entered Halifax Harbour today but then turned abruptly, headed, a spokesman for the refugees said, back to Syria.

“For weeks we had been studying about Canada on the boat, and just before entering Canadian waters we realized Canada was such a lame, embarrassing country we unanimously decided we’d rather turn to our ruined, war-ravaged nation. I mean, a team wins a basketball championship and you guys act like you cured cancer. Come on. Besides, it was that guy from Los Angeles who won it for you anyway.”

Our next news update sometime later than now.

TIPS FOR BETTER LIVING

If you can’t get CBC on your radio and their website and the CBC Listen app isn’t working, just stream a video of some babies babbling to each other. You’ll get the same amount of relevant information and it’ll sound remarkably the same.

Always wash vegetables thoroughly before cooking or eating them raw. For one thing, you can’t be too careful since most of the vegetables you buy in the supermarket were grown in California and picked by illegal Mexicans. However, when washing your veggies, it is not necessary to use strawberry bubble bath.

Speaking of vegetables, avoid all fake meat products. In adition to concerns about whether they are actually better for you than the real thing, the fewer people who eat fake meat products means fewer stupid commercials for them and fewer celebrities lecturing you about why you should eat them.

Millennials, things in houses and apartments, such as floors, dishes, sinks, toilets, bathtubs, clothes, and bedding need to be cleaned on a regular basis, and we mean at least a couple times a month, if not more regularly for some things. Contrary to what you may have been lead to believe, a magic fairy doesn’t come in and clean everything while your mother stands there performing actions which mimick those tasks.

Also quit constantly saying “I feel like” when you really mean “I think.” When you know something for sure, just say it, rather than prefacing it with such a dumb phrase.

DEPEND FITFLEX COMMERCIAL

Anncr: There’s no point trying to prevent or fix a problem, so if you’re dealing with post-birth incontinence, just wear our product for the rest of your life. It’ll sure make us happy.

Woman: I object to this commercial.

Anncr: Our product isn’t objectionable. Why, it’s the perfect thing for managing post-birth incontinence, or any light incontinence.

Woman: You need to actually fix a problem. For instance, if you’re going to girl’s night, where you know you’re going to laugh, go to the bathroom more often. Also, avoid diaretic beverages like coffee, pop, etc. As well, stay regular—

Anncr: By using our laxative product—

Woman: By eating properly, drinking plenty of water and getting lots of exercise. And that’s another thing, proper diet and exercise help with incontinence, too.

Anncr: All right, shrew, you got anything else to say?

Woman: Yes, I also object to those pull-on diapers your company makes and markets as a toilet training product. Most of the time, they just get used as a diaper.

Anncr: Oh, come on now, they must work. Would we sell them if they didn’t?

Woman: Sure, they work for some kids. I’ve known of kids who didn’t want to get the characters wet. I’ve also known mothers who told their kids if they could keep them dry for a week they could wear real underwear. I’ve even known mothers who switched out tape-on diapers for those pull-on ones for much younger babies, but those are the exceptions.

Anncr: So, in other words, they don’t work for most situations.

Woman: No, they don’t. Just like you’re adult product is useful in some situations that can’t improve for whatever reason, or can be used complementarily for some people, but really, they aren’t the end-all and be-all.

Anncr: Well, if we stopped treating them like that we wouldn’t make as much money so shut up and buy them already.

A YOUTUBE ATHEIST PAYS TRIBUTE TO JACLYN GLENN

Open on a shabby apartment. The place is chock a block full of video game systems. There are empty cereal bowls all over the place. Big Atheist Guy is looking into a camera. He is fat, with rumpled, old clothing and old socks with holes in them.

Big Atheist Guy: What’s up, dudeboys and female dudeboys, this is Big Atheist Guy here with a tribute to one of my faves and my inspiration, Jaclyn Glenn. Ah, Jaclyn’s just so amazing, you guys. I mean, I don’t know how anybody could still believe in God after watching her videos. I mean, just because she focuses largely on these big megachurch guys that even most Christians know are full of it and just because she freaks out every time some nut on the fringes of Christianity tries to rebut what she’s said with stupid arguments, doesn’t mean she’s not, you know, cool and everything. Also what’s really great is she’s started making fun of New Age practices as well so people won’t think her mission is to just beat up on Christianity. I’m telling you, if Jaclyn had the success with boys she’s had with her YouTube channel, she’d be beating them off with a stick. Of course, if she had the success with her YouTube channel she has with boys she would have been on UPN back in the day. If she had the success she has with boys in the medical field she’d be Dr. Kavorkian. You know, though, she’s so right, yo. I mean, just because the people who ruled homosexuality wasn’t a mental illness were themselves gay doesn’t mean it is a mental illness, or that you should even question whether or not it is. I tell you, if I had the will, motivation or physical ability to get out of this apartment, I’d beat those intolerant, hateful, video disliking homophobes to a bloody pulp, or at least give them paper cuts, which is more along the lines of what I’m capable of doing. Yeah, then I’d move onto all the retards who beat me up in school and, make no mistake, folks, I’m talking about actual retards. That’s right, y’all, when I was a wee atheist guy, I got beat up by individuals who had been diagnosed by medical professionals, like Jaclyn, as more deficient in their IQ than the rest of us. Now the Christian kids all tried to comfort me, mind you, but they couldn’t get their arms around my waist. Well, I better quit talking like this or the government’s going to take my guns, by which I mean my collection of water pistols, away from me. Can’t be too careful these days, dudeboys. Bottom line, Jaclyn, babe, I love ya, and sorry about mistaking you for a three wood that time on the golf course.

ZDOGGMD

Hey, folks. This is ZDoggMD for vaccinations. Totally get your kids vaccinated, you guys. Now there are a lot of people out there saying not to and those people have really good arguments. Like, for example, all a vaccine can do at best is protect against last year’s version of whatever disease it’s trying to prevent since, you know, viruses mutate. Also the fact improvements in hygene, sanitation, nutrition, and housing were largely responsible for the prevention of those diseases, and nowadays with the hipster environmentalist types we’re seeing a decline in that. However, who are you going to believe: people who make fun of and swear at mothers with severely autistic children, as well as the government that denies them compensation, or … the other side?

(Eric Metaxas and Cornwall Minotaur enter.)

Eric: OK, dude, time for me to have the spotlight for a while.

ZDogg: Cool, bro. What’s your opinion that supports kids getting vaccinated.

Eric: I don’t want to talk about that right now. Instead, I want to promote my Christmas special, running year-round on TBN. Cornwall, show the highlight real, will ya.

Cornwall: Yes, sir.

(Cornwall inserts a videotape into a machine.)

Eric: OK, here we are break dancing on the roof of a moving city bus. Now here are some actors punching various animals dressed up in psychedelic colours. Now here’s me eating all the food in Cornwall’s fridge, freezers and cupboards. That was a joke, bra.

Cornwall: Well I didn’t find it very funny.

Eric: Well, I found it funny and that’s all that seriously matters. OK, more cruelty to animals.

Cornwall: Nothing in this video actually has anything to do with Jesus Christ, folks.

Eric: You know, for Monday’s show I’ve booked a Catholic priest who’s advocating we bring back the Inquisition and I view you as a heretic.

Cornwall: If I didn’t know you so well I’d think you were joking.

Eric: That’s right, bud. There’s only room for one person around here.

ZDogg: Gentlemen, I must protest. This is a channel for making fun of people who don’t want children to be injected with highly questionable substances. It is not a channel for shameless self-promotion and promotion of broadcasting outlets which preach false Christianity and have nothing to do with glorifying God.

Cornwall: Sorry.

Eric: Yeah, sorry. I guess we were objectively morally wrong to do everything we did.

ZDogg: Cool, get out.

Eric: Hey, one of these days I’m gonna take phone calls.

(They exit.)

ZDogg: Until next time, this is ZDoggMD saying, I don’t care how your day goes.

BROTHER BEWARE

Open on a beach. Mattie Blake, a local resident of Oak Island and the film crew are standing there.

Matty Blake: Welcome back to “The Curse of Oak Island.” We’ve been on the air for well over a hundred years now and haven’t found anything, but I think this week will be The Week. So, local resident, where should we dig this week?

Local Resident: Well, we could try digging over there for the fifty-seventh time.

Mattie Blake: Excellent idea! Now, follow me over---

(Alma Winkworth appears)

Alma: Pardon me, gentlemen, but might I trouble you for a lift off this island?

Mattie Blake: Who are you?!

Alma: My name is Alma Winkworth. I was marooned on this island over a hundred years ago by a man who wanted to keep me from marrying his brother.

Mattie Blake: Then how come I’ve never seen you before?

Local Resident: I’ve seen her before but I got a real short memory when it come to most things.

Alma: Gentlemen, yI have seen you but you haven’t seen me is precisely because I’ve kept good cover all these years. One very quickly learns every square inch of terrain on a small island such as this. Now about getting off this island.

Mattie Blake: Sure, our intern will take you back to the mainland in a bit, but say, would you be able to tell us where the pirate treasure is?

Alma: The pirate treasure?

Mattie Blake: Sure. Back in the 1700s, a pirate buried a vast treasure somewhere on this island. Then he left, vowing to return, but never did. After he buried the treasure, the pirate captain put a curse on anyone else who unearthed his treasure.

Local Resident: A terrible curse, indeed. Full of multiple horrid diseases, injuries, misfortunes, deaths of children before they could have children, death of their children’s children, the works.

Mattie Blake: And we totally wanna find it!

Alma: Well, I must unfortunately relate to you gentlemen there is no pirate treasure. I’ve dug up literally every square inch of this island and have not found a single thing. After all, it’s not like I’ve had much else to occupy me this last century.

Mattie Blake: So you’re absolutely certain there’s no pirate treasure here on Oak Island?

Alma: Absolutely.

Mattie Blake: 100 percent positive, zip, zero, zilch, nada, nothing at all whatsoever?

Alma: That’s correct. Now about that---

(Mattie pulls out a gun and shoots Alma)

Mattie Blake: Well, that wraps up our show for this week but tune in next week when we’ll continue our search for buried treasure.

GIRL DEFINED – SINGLE AND LONGING FOR ROMANCE DURING THE HOLIDAYS

Kristen: Hi, I’m Kristen.

Bethany: Hi, I’m Bethany.

Together: And welcome back to Girl Defined.

Kristen: Girl Defined is the channel that is about letting us define you, not letting anything else define you.

Bethany: And as the title of this video suggests, today we’re going to talk about what to do when you’re longing to be with that special someone during the holidays---

Kristen: But you don’t have a special someone.

Bethany: Now I know it can be sad and frustrating when you’re walking through the store, hearing all the secular Christmas music that the store owners and employees are going to Hell for playing---

Kristen: And you see the couples arguing with each other about what to buy---

Bethany: Or arguing because the husband forgot to get a bunch of things on the wife’s list.

Kristen: I totally know, right.

Bethany: And it just makes you feel like, “Oh, I wish I had a romantic partner with whom to spend the holidays, come on God, send me that special guy---“

Kristen: And you start doing that puppy dog whimper you do when you’re praying hard for something you really want for yourself.

(Bethany gives Kristen an “I will kill you” look.)

Bethany: Well, girls, the first thing I have to say about this important issue is, I’m married, screw you, single losers. I got a guy, you can’t get one?

Kristen: And also, my best advice for when your longing for Christmas romance is to think about it more, like really get down in there and wallow in your loneliness.

Bethany: Kristen, why would you advise our audience to do something like that?

Kristen: (Shrugging) I don’t know. Seemed like the right thing to say a few seconds ago.

Bethany: Well, that’s all for this video. Join me next time when I’ll be talking to you about something else meaningful and important.

Kristen: What about me? I’ll be here, too.

(Bethany gives Kristen the “I will kill you” look again.

GIRL DEFINED-OUR DAILY HAIR AND SKIN CARE ROUTINES

Open on a living room. Kristen is lying in a hospital bed, with tubes and machines connected to her everywhere.

Kristen: Hi guys, welcome to Girl Defined, the channel that’s about … something or other. I can’t remember things as well these days. See, after the last video, Bethany beat me up pretty bad, again, real serious this time, more seriously than usual. I actually got quite severely injured, and there was a limited amount they could do at the hospital because most of the doctors there were busy treating a whole bunch of social justice warriors for something or other. So now I guess I’m just going to be lying here in this bed, in this room, on my back, for the rest of my days. Now you say “But Kristen, don’t you have nurses to turn you and stuff so that doesn’t happen?” Well, I did, but now I don’t because I told them they were all going to Hell for various reasons. So I guess my skin and hair care routine is I do nothing because I can’t. I totally recommend it. Of course no one will come visit me anymore because I smell so bad, and my church doesn’t believe in taking care of the sick so no help there, but, hey, y’know. Until a few minutes from now when I make and upload another video because I have absolutely nothing else to do, this is Kristen from Girl Defined saying ooooooowwwwwwoooouuuuuhhhhhh.

ZDOGGND BEATS UP RAINMAN

Open on a hospital room. Rainman is lying in a bed. ZDoggMD is standing over him, punching and slapping Rainman.

ZDoggMD: Say that again, punk.

Rainman: It was the vaccinations, definitely, the vaccinations that caused my autism.

ZDoggMD: What did you say?

Rainman: Yeah, definitely. I did hours of research to confirm it. After all, don’t have anything else to do in here but watch TV.

(Rainman starts imitating current daytime TV shows. ZDoggMD starts beating him up harder.)

ZDoggMD: I hate you, you little autistic freak! I hate every last one of you!

Rainman: Yeah, definitely the vaccinations.

ZDoggMD: You should take a ride on an airline other than Qantas.

Rainman: Qantas never crashed, but your roid rage will.

ZDoggMD: All of you should have been drowned at birth!

(Rainman starts repeating ZDoggMD’s videos back to him. ZDoggMD smashes Rainman’s head against the wall, knocking a hole in the plaster. Rainman crumples to the floor unconscious.)

ZDoggMD: The beating didn’t cause that. And his head didn’t cause that hole in the wall, either.

Before we continue on to the next sketch, I would like to point out I have never actually watched one of ZDoggMD’s videos because, well, why would I want to. But seriously, in these examples of my satirical output, I am not trying to single out that particular YouTuber, or slander him, defame him, libel him, or make it personal in any other way. Rather, I am simply using him as an example of what one could call the pro-vax movement. The same thing with Eric Metaxas. I don’t know Mr. Metaxas personally and am writing sketches featuring him purely based on my impressions of him, or at least his public persona, which I’ve heard and partaken of as a listener when I’ve tuned into his show. Now, I see members of the audience are both starting to fall asleep as well as leave so let’s get back to the comedy!

HERE COMES THE BRIDE

Open on the outside of a church. Two elderly women are sitting on the steps, dressed in fancy clothes.

Old Lady 1: Wasn’t that an awful wedding?

Old Lady 2: Oh my yes, it ever was.

Old Lady 1: Well there were parts of it that weren’t that bad, actually.

Old Lady 2: Yes, now didn’t the bride’s finery look well, then?

Old Lady 1: Oh, the finest, most beautiful, becoming wedding dress I’ve ever seen.

Old Lady 2: Oh, and wasn’t the groom the handsomest groom you ever did see?

Old Lady One: Carried himself flawlessly, he did.

Old Lady 2: Oh, and weren’t the bridesmaids something to behold?

Old Lady 1: Pretty maids all in a row. Just as if they’d stepped out of a nursery rhyme.

Old Lady 2: Yes, and didn’t the ring bearer pull off the job well?

Old Lady 1: The perfect little gentleman.

Old Lady 2: And didn’t the flower girl look lovely?

Old Lady 1: And wasn’t she the perfect little lady to the ring bearer’s gentleman?

Old Lady 2: She sure was.

Old Lady 1: And wasn’t the food lovely?

Old Lady 2: Well, I must say I can’t really enjoy food as much these days what with having no teeth, but what I could eat was just delectable.

Old Lady 1: Yes, the finest fair served in these parts in quite some time.

Old Lady 2: But the thing that made the wedding truly awful, as good as everything else was, mind you---

Old Lady 1: Yes.

Old Lady 2: When the bride took off her veil---

Old Lady 1: Oh my yes.

Old Lady 2: Her lipstick wasn’t on straight.

Old Lady 1: I know. What is this world coming to?

Old Lady 2: Time was you could go to a wedding and it would be a decent affair. But today just proves---

Old Lady 1: It certainly does.

Old Lady 2: It, that wedding we both just attended, you and myself, just goes to prove---

Old Lady 1: Oh my yes.

Old Lady 2: It only goes to prove that, these days, people have absolutely no standards.

THE PARTED SOUL

The parted soul goes to Heaven or Hell,

As unpopular as that is to say.

Jesus, the way, the truth, the life,

People don’t want to hear that today.

Nevertheless, the truth still stands,

As much as it always did,

God still does what He always has,

As much as Him we try to rid.

Whether long, black train or devil’s herd,

Whichever metaphor you choose to use,

Avoid the place of fire and torment,

And perpetual abuse.

For relationship with God to begin,

With entrance to the pearly gates,

Get you a Bible in print or on phone,

And read Acts 2 38.

MY HOUSE

My house once stood on prime land

The value has diminished

By the citie’s hand.

It must be said,

For you see,

Nothin round here

Is like it used to be.

Where once our city’s streets were safe

Now there full of crime and waifs

Cause parents have no jobs

So got no bread.

Man, the city’s

So hopeless and dead.

My house is part of this decay

Can’t stand it here another day

But I have to

Got nothing better

The rain comes down

And I get wetter.

MEMORIES

Memories can be happy things,

Remembering the good times we’ve had,

Looking back on those treasured moments,

Making us not feel sad.

Memories are also useful things,

We learn from our mistakes,

Looking at foolish things once done,

We learn a better path to take.

Yet many indulge in these things too much,

Desirous to live in the past,

Memories are great but everything changes,

Nothing is going to last.

So enjoy and learn from your memories,

Sweet or embarrassing they be,

Just remember to live life now,

Making many new memories.

A COMMONPLACE WOMAN

Open on aparlour. Mrs. Katherine Anderson, Emmy and Phil are sitting around the parlour. John Anderson is snoring on the couch. Dr. Parsons enters from upstairs.

Mrs. Anderson: So, Doctor, do you think it really is the end this time?

Dr. Parsons: I’m afraid so, Mrs. Anderson. At this point I wouldn’t expect your aunt Ursula to live out the hour.

Mrs. Anderson: (Sighing) There are so many questions that run through one’s head at a time like this.

Phil: Yeah, like how come the old stiff wasn’t worth more?

Emmy: Or, in our case, how come the old bag wasn’t worth anything?

Mrs. Anderson: Children! How many times have we had the conversation about things which are true but that one doesn’t say aloud?

Phil: One thousand three hundred sixty-four times, Ma.

Mrs. Anderson: That’s correct, darling. It’s easy to see why you got into Queen’s.

Dr. Parsons: I’d debated giving Ursula something for the pain but I don’t think it would make any difference. As I said, I don’t expect her to last out the hour.

Mrs. Anderson: Thank you for all your care, Doctor. Though I don’t know how we’re ever going to pay your bill.

Dr. Parsons: (Sarcastically) No worries, Mrs. Anderson. The thanks you just gave me is more than payment enough.

Mrs. Anderson: That’s certainly a good thing. Would you mind staying with us until she goes, Doctor?

Dr. Parsons: (Sarcastically) Not at all, Mrs. Anderson. My date with Zoe Maylock, the prettiest girl in Lowbridge with whom I’ve been trying to get a date for months, can wait till some other time. Ah, Zoe Maylock. How she makes my heart burn.

(A knock is heard at the door. Emmy gets up and opens it. Sir Lawrence Ainsley enters. He is reminiscent of Tim Conway’s world’s oldest man character, but with an English accent.)

Sir Lawrence Ainsley: Good evening. My name is Sir Lawrence Ainsley and I was wondering if Ursula Anderson lives here.

Emmy: Yes, but not for very much longer.

Phil: She’s on her deathbed.

Sir Lawrence: Oh, then I came just in the nick of time. May I go upstairs and see her, please?

Mrs. Anderson: Wait just one minute. Just who are you, anyway?

Emmy: Sir Lawrence Ainsley, did you say? He was a famous, very talented artist, if I remember correctly.

Dr. Parsons: Indeed he was. But, if I’m not mistaken, he died just a few months ago.

Sir Lawrence: Oh, that. Those reports of my death were literally fake news. Slow news day so let’s report that Sir Lawrence has died, and all that. As you can see for yourselves, I am very much alive.

Phil: I would be willing to debate the very much part.

Mrs. Anderson: All right. Saying for the sake of argument that you are the real Sir Lawrence Ainsley, that still leaves the question of how in anything you know our aunt Ursula.

Emmy: Indeed. I mean, to our knowledge, Aunt Ursula never travelled or really did much of anything in her lifetime.

Sir Lawrence: Well, you see, it was back about sixty-five years ago. I believe the tourism industry had just started around here, and my family took a cottage at Half-moon Cove for the summer.

Phil: You certainly wouldn’t want to take a cottage out there for the winter.

Sir Lawrence: Anyway, Ursula’s aunt owned and, of course, rented out one of the cottages and Ursula would come out to Half-moon Cove to deliver supplies for the cottagers. We met and decided we fancied each other, so from there she spent a lot of her free time with me, in the evenings and so forth. I had dreamed about proposing to her, but, being young, foolish and nervous, I never worked up the courage. We left in the fall and never returned. Now that I’m an old man I’ve started going back through my life, trying to mend some fences, as it were. Now, may I see your aunt?

Dr. Parsons: I can certainly sympathize with you in regretting not proposing to Ursula Anderson, Sir Lawrence. After all, who knows but that if life had been slightly different in that way, these children here might never have been born.

Mrs. Anderson: I suppose you can go upstairs to see Aunt Ursula. What harm can be done at this point?

Sir Lawrence: Oh, thank you ever so much.

(He proceeds up the stairs.)

Phil: Oh my gosh, she’s going to die before he can get up there.

(Sir Lawrence continues up the stairs. We now see Ursula Anderson’s room. She is lying in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. Sir Lawrence Ainsley enters the room.)

Sir Lawrence: Ursula, honey?

Ursula: Who is that?!

Sir Lawrence: It’s Larry, babygirl.

Ursula: Larry Ainsley, the young man I knew from Half-moon Cove and dated for one most memorable summer?

Sir Lawrence: The same young man, sweetheart.

Ursula: And who became a famous artist, painting church ceilings and having his paintings fetch millions of dollars after being displayed in galleries all over the world?

Sir Lawrence: You’re talkin’ to him.

(Ursula turns her face and sees Larry for the first time.)

Ursula: Oh, Sir Larry, it really is you. What are you doing here?

Sir Lawrence: Well, Ursula, you see, mmm, I’ve come to propose marriage to you at last. I was such a fool not to do so all those years ago. Sure, there were others, but you, Ursula Anderson, are the only girl I’ve ever truly loved. I realize that now in my dotage. So, (Takes an exaggerated long time to get down on one knee. Starts grimacing with pain.) Ursula Anderson, will you marry me?

Ursula: Oh, Sir Lawrence, of course I will. I only regret it took so long because where are we going to get a minister to perform the ceremony with me on my deathbed?

(Pastor Meredith enters. He has a cookie wedged in his mouth and cookie crumbs all over his face.)

Pastor Meredith: Hello, Ursula, it’s Pastor Meredith. I’ve just come to see to the final arrangements for your funeral. I’ll tell you one thing: if these cookies are any indication of how the rest of the food is going to taste, it is going to be one honey of a luncheon afterwords, I’ll tell you that right now. (Turning to Sir Lawrence with surprise) Oh, hello. Who are you?

(Sir Lawrence rises to his feet a lot quicker than it took him to get down on one knee.)

Sir Lawrence: Ah, the endorphins from your acceptance did wonders for my body just now. (Turning to Pastor Meredith) You’re a minister, you say. I’m Sir Lawrence Ainsley, the famous artist who is not dead, and I wish you to wed myself and this woman here on the bed. I knew her many years ago, wished to marry her then, missed my chance, and now I am going to make things right.

Pastor Meredith: Sure thing.

Ursula: Larry, before Pastor performs the ceremony, there’s something you ought to know. See, as a result of something we did that summer, I became a mother. I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who was given up for adoption and named Isabel. Unfortunately, she was adopted by the Ringing family of Charlottetown, but one can’t help growing up in Charlottetown, I guess. Anyway, I got to see a lot of my dear Isabel because I was the Ringing’s dressmaker.

Sir Lawrence: Darling, that doesn’t matter to me now. I’ll love Elizabeth as if she were my very own. In fact, I might even try to adopt her.

Ursula: She’s sixty-five.

Sir Lawrence: Older children are often the ones in most critical need of adoption.

Ursula: Well then, it’s settled. Go ahead with the ceremony, Pastor Meredith.

Pastor Meredith: In light of your condition, Miss Anderson, I’ll condense the vows, if neither of you minds. (They both nod to indicate this is acceptable.) Do you, Lawrence, take this woman, Ursula, to be your lawfully wedded wife, for as long as you both shall live, or, as long as she shall live, which I’d say is another five minutes or so.

Sir Lawrence: I do.

Pastor Meredith: And do you, Ursula, take this man, Lawrence, to be your lawful wedded husband for the next few minutes?

Ursula: I do.

Pastor Meredith: Then by the power invested in me I now pronounce you husband and wife. Gentleman, You may kiss the bride, after I leave the room.

(Pastor Meredith exits. Sir Lawrence kisses Ursula. She lies back on the bed with a look of perfect contentment on her face and dies. Since shortly after Pastor Meredith entered the room, John, Kathie, Emmy, and Phil have been standing in the doorway.)

Emmy: Well, Aunt Ursula really is gone.

Phil: Yes, Aunt Ursula Anderson-Ainsley has gone for her dirt nap.

Mrs. Anderson: And can you believe all that stuff about the child?

John: Yes, but barely.

Mrs. Anderson: I have to say it makes me think a little less of Aunt Ursula, actually.

John: Yes, dear, but look on the bright side. With Ursula having confessed it before she died, we might now have a chance to ding Larry for the child support.

THE ROAD TO YESTERDAY

Anncr: And now, news from Glen St. Marry.

There was a yard sale last weekend. Phil sold his lawn mower and an old transistor radio.

Eyewitnesses reported a cat wandering onto the road today. The cat went back into its house after about a minute.

In sports, in Legion euker, Jim lost again.

Coming up after this, my commentary. With a family from Lowbridge having moved into town, could this start a trend?

Closing credits.

Based on “The Blythes are Quoted” by L. M. Montgomery.