a radio play

by Sam Markewich

A: Who?

B: Skyblue Jones. You know...Skyblue Jones.

A: The Skyblue Jones?

B: No, no, entirely else.

A: A Skyblue Jones?

B: No, no!

A: This Skyblue Jones?

B: The Jazz Standard?

No, no...um...These Skyblue Jones?

Yes! That's right, these Skyblue Jones!

These ones and onlies Skyblue Jones?!

These very ones and onlies!

Boomy Anouncer: That's right...it's "These Skyblue Jones". This week under "These Skyblue Jones" we travel next to Topika Kansas, home of the famous Topika Pudding, where those of us whose eyes are turned between the right direction will notice our pretagonist Skyblue Jones fall to his flailing death between an accidental Anvil-jumping accident of unpurpose proportions (those being two-to-one, void where prohibeted by war).

[thump and boing sound]

B: Oh the dread-scott of it all! Skyblue has fallen to his fatal flaw!

A: Which was?

B: The cold hard ground of infirmnaty, the bottomless pit covered over by thick walls of mortar and pestulance! Oh the gravity of it all!

A: Why hark in exclamations over Neutonian physics dear?

Oh! Joke will you? I have just about become fed up with your petit-bourgeoise dejeuner!

Well, this is nothing if not encouraging.

Well, yes. After all, I have not actually become fed up yet.

You're only just about there.

Right.

But, what does it mean?

Must you bring meaning into every disussion?

Well, without it, how will we be capable of deciphering this?!

[surprise/mystery music and paper crinkling]

Oh my god! You...you...you....k..illed him! [Loud Screem]

No, no, no, calm yourself up. Jesus, you'll wake up Jim Neigbors! I didn't kill him, he killed himself.

But...why?

For insurance.

Who would get the money?

No, no, no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no...Not that kind of insurance...

Then what?

Death insurance, you know, to insure that no one, some, or all of your loved ones will recieve a cent when you die. Obviously ya' have ta' die for this to go into effect, so he did what any rational man would do, he...well...you know.

No, I can't say that I do.

Sure you can.

Oh, well of course I can, but I won't. I refuse.

Must you play your trite games now?!

All right, all right, but just this once. Skyblue strapped four-septillion, two-hundred-cattillion, fifty-two-bobdillion, seven-hundred-twenty-ravellion, and sixty-seventy tuning forks to his body, the combination of which would, when struck in concordance, produce beats...

The red root vegetables?

No, the minute clashes in sound wave vibrations. Anyway, these beats, carefully calculated, would shatter Skyblue's small intesine, spleen and muchous membranaphones, causing immediate failure of his pancreas and, in turn, his liver.

Jaundice would set in and...

So forth and [inexplicable loud sound]

And all in a matter of a few seconds! Brilliant....

Absolutely brilliant. And, you must understand, the physics and economics of the situation were quite complicit and comlicated...

[discovering] because, in order to sound these tuning forks all at once, Skyblue would have had to hire an army...

And, frankly...

Uh...listen...I hate to burts in in the middle like this, but, uh, you really don't resemble Frank at all right now.

[weeping] O.k. O.k., so you found me out! I'm a fraud, washed up, finished, a giant puffer fish whose lost my puff, a mole possessed of anti-gravitational forces, a tenent-farmer whose crops were all evicted, a two-headed coin that's all abdominal regions!

Listen, I kinda' resemble Frank today, don't ya' think?

Well, yes, I suppose.

So, why not let me finish up?

Alright, sure, [cheerily] why not.

And, frankly, he has no access to an army!

[both burst out laughing]

[still laughing] And frankly, he has no access to an army! That's a good one! [more laughing]

[laughing subsides]

And, even if he did have acces to an army, it would be no contest. After all, we've got the army, the marines, the navy, the national guard, the airforce, and the people behind us.

Hmm...do you think they're gaining on us?

Naaaahhh...They're still way back there. We're way ahead of the game. So, this Skyblue, even if he could afford an army, even, and especially if he could find one of some comparable size to our own, even if that army had ready access to all manner of missiles, ground-to-air, air-to-ground, and ground-to-land weaponry, shaved beef in a can, and canteens

What about Keosks?

No, just canteens -- even if Skyblue's army did have all this, and I might add, especially if this were the case, it could be that he might fall into comradery with the troops.

And then what?

And then what?! And then his insurance policy would be forfeited, as someone or ones of close relation to Skyblue would have been a recipient of some of his money, and the whole idea within death insurance is that only those whom the corps has no affinities with may be recipients of his or her monies.

So, uh, what's that you're holding there anyway?

That's what I've been trying to show you! Look [paper crinkling] It's Skyblue's will.

It looks like an insurance form.

It is. See, with death insurance, the insurance company writes your will for you, to insure that no one you remotely know is left even a red cent. See, look here. Skyblue...

[together] Bless his heart.

...left his entire fortune to the Drug Enforcement Agency.

[trailing off, as if walking away into distance together]

Gee, I wonder how much we get?

I bet I get more than you.

Screw you! I get more than you!

No way! I deserve more, I'm higher up...

I desrved that promotion more than (you)...!