Shakespearian Commentary On Contemporary Social Media

June 2, 2021 at 10:33 pm (Plays, Short play) (, )

Enter a servant into the study of Lord Falconcrest.

Lord Falconcrest (moaning): Oh, woe is me. Woe is me.

Servant: What is it, my lord?

Lord Falconcrest: It has hit me with the full fury of an idiot that I accidentally sent a text message to my girlfriend last night instead of the woman I had slept with a couple of hours earlier. The message was meant for the eyes of the woman I had a chance but very pleasant encounter with.

Servant: A grave matter indeed, my lord. Especially if it results in your sudden demise.

Lord Falconcrest: Let me checketh out her Facebook page.

(Falconcrest pulls out his smart phone and checks it)

Lord Falconcrest: Oh, woe is me. Woe is me.

Servant: My Lord?

Lord Falconcrest: She hath changeth her status from being “In a relationship” to being “Single”. And I have been removed from her Friends list.

Servant: It is a surprise that she hath not blocked thee, my lord.

Lord Falconcrest: She no doubt wanteth me to see all the comments on her timeline from would-be suitors who want to move into the territory from which I have been so unceremoniously cast aside.

Servant: If thou hast not grabbed another pussy before the blast of the last Trump of the evening before Joe Biden falleth down the stairs, thou wouldst not be in this predicament.

Lord Falconcrest: Thou hast spoken wisely, noble Mercutio.

Servant: It is as my old grandmother used to say on occasion- ‘Tis sometimes best to keep thy pecker in thy pants.”

Lord Falconcrest: Oh, wouldy I had heard of thy grandmother’s sage advice before the cock crowed last night.

-A Shakespearian style dialogue
written by Christopher
Wednesday June 2nd

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Is Kim Jong-un On His Death Bed?

April 25, 2020 at 10:04 pm (Arts, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, News, Poetry, Short play, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Is Kim Jong-un On His Death Bed?

“The most compelling empirical evidence to date that North Korea’s Kim Jong-un might indeed be lying on his deathbed is Donald Trump’s recent statement that reports of Kim having a serious illness are “gross exaggerations” and “fake news”.

-Renfield R. Renfield MP

Kim Jong-un was lying on top of his bed in his best suit (he didn’t want to be caught wearing clothes that he wouldn’t want to be found dead in).

“Egg foo yung,” Kim whispered in a somewhat audible voice, “Egg foo yung.”

“He really should have better scriptwriters in my opinion,” commented the ghost of Orson Welles who had Charles Foster Kane saying the word “Rosebud” on his death bed.

Orson’s ghost had somehow managed to evade the spirits of Kim’s ancestors to enter the North Korean Presidential Palace and Kim’s Presidential suite bedroom.

A group of beautiful young North Korean women wearing lovely colourful dresses knelt at the bottom of the portly young Kim’s bed and wailed like a Greek chorus mourning the death of Adonis in a Classical Greek tragedy.

A gong sounded and the beautiful North Korean women’s chorus immediately stopped wailing.

“Our shift is over, girls,” said the leader of the women.

They departed giggling and laughing and talked about what they might have for supper and who’d they be dating next weekend.

A new group of beautiful young North Korean women wearing lovely colourful dresses took positions at the bottom of the portly young Kim’s bed and resumed wailing.

. . .

Kim Yo-jong (the younger sister of Kim Jong-un) stood in front of her mirror holding a bottle of Corona beer in one hand and a diamond, emerald, sapphire and jade laced golden crown in the other.

Kim Yo-jong (speaking) :

Does the hand of Fate bequeath a new crown?
As Thanatos smiles behind a silent frown?
Has a golden corona struck down a King so a Queen may reign?
An Olympic garland wreath comes to me via a crown spoken in Spain?
I call upon the spirits of my ancestors to bless me 
as a new journey I may undertake.
America’s trump has sounded from one whose golden crown is densely fake.
Yet will a disinfectant injection into my brother’s lungs will he take?

-A vampire novel chapter
and neo-Shakespearean soliloquy
written by Christopher
Saturday April 25th

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Pan Goatee Beheads Non-Social Distancing Uglos

April 24, 2020 at 10:34 pm (Aesthetics, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Short play, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Pan Goatee Beheads Non-Social Distancing Uglos

Genetically created satyr serial killer Pan Goatee was awakened by the sound of a bunch of cars honking.

Some bozos in the neighbourhood decided to celebrate some stupid occasion by driving around in dozens of cars honking their horns.

All because people could no longer meet in groups above 15 due to the dictates of Alberta Premier Jason Fat Boy Kenney’s ugly looking female Provincial Health Officer.

How did he ever miss out on beheading her?

Probably because he’d never visited the provincial capital of Edmonton he deduced in Sherlockian fashion.

Goatee looked out the window and vomited all over the coffee table when he saw a whole bunch of ugly looking females standing up and down the block (not practicing social distancing either- the ugly looking airheads) waving signs with stupid slogans.

Goatee reached for his astral laser machete and went running down the block beheading the ugly looking females en masse.

He approached one ugly looking school girl.

“You know what the trouble with ugly looking kids is?” Goatee explained as he lopped the young uglo’s head off, “they grow up to be ugly looking adults.” 

“You’ll no longer have to worry about following the WHO’s social distancing regulations ever again,” Goatee remarked to one ugly looking mother as he decapitated her.

Later that day, Alberta’s ugly looking female Provincial Health Officer addressing her daily news conference while this time wearing a paper bag over her head (because there were rumours that Pan Goatee was in the provincial capital) told the social distancing media that she had several non-Covid 19 deaths to report, “Several females in our province have been beheaded today because they were ugly. Returning once again to our daily Covid-19 death count…”

On-line bookies and on-line gamblers waited with baited breath to see who would win today’s jackpot for having correctly predicted the exact number of Covid-19 deaths in the province for the day.

. . .

Down in Las Vegas Nevada, Ares the Greek god of war and Thor the Norse god of thunder had the entire city to themselves since all the casinos, lounges, bars, restaurants and wedding chapels were now closed to mortal humans.

Desert coyotes and road runners were outside the buildings running amuck in city streets.

Ares and Thor after having finished off all the liquor and booze in the Bellagio Hotel and Casino were now starting on all the booze and liquor at the Caesars Palace Hotel and Casino.

Ares (drinking a Corona with lime): Say what’s the number of recoveries from Covid-19?

Thor (drinking a bottle of tequila with half a worm in it): What?

Ares: The number of recoveries from Covid-19. They’re always talking about the number of cases of Covid-19. The number of deaths from Covid-19. How come they never give the number of recoveries from Covid-19?

Thor: I don’t know. Do I look like the fucking Director-General of WHO?

Ares (putting on a pair of glasses he had swiped from the hotel’s sole remaining security guard who had died after injecting Lysol household disinfectant directly into his lungs on the recommendation of U.S. President Donald Trump) : No, you don’t look like the sort of person who would give Xi Jinping blow jobs.

Thor: That’s because I’m not.

Ares: What will happen if people are quarantined in their homes all across the planet for the next 18 months to 2 years like so many scientific experts are suggesting but no political leader seems to want to mention?

Thor (making himself a lime Margarita) : I don’t know. A lot of people will go insane I guess.

Ares: And what about the economy? It will totally collapse won’t it? What will happen to agriculture? The food supply? People are going to start dropping dead of hunger aren’t they? 

Thor (warming up a frozen plate of Hors d’oeuvres in the lounge microwave) : Oh, probably.

Ares: How am I going to be able to start any wars if people are dead?

Thor: Well maybe you better go start a war before a whole bunch of people start dying from the pandemic or dying from hunger.

Ares (hiccoughing) : An excellent suggestion. I think I’ll go do that now.

(Ares stumbles his way outside where he’s then run over by a road runner)

-A vampire novel chapter
and short play 
written by Christopher
Friday April 24th

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Orson Welles’ Original Fake News Broadcast 80 Years Ago Today

October 30, 2018 at 11:47 pm (Arts, Culture, Entertainment, Fantasy, Fashion, Film, Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Literature, love, Movies, Mystery/horror, News, Plays, Radio, Science-Fiction, Short play, theatre, Theatre Arts, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

80 years ago today, the great Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre On The Air presented a radio play adaptation of H.G. Welles’ 1897 science-fiction novel The War of The Worlds.

The play was presented by Welles as a series of realistic sounding news bulletins interrupting a program of orchestral dance music on the CBS Radio Network from New York City.

The program was held on Sunday October October 30th 1938 (the evening before Halloween) and a few people took it seriously.

It was one Hell of a Halloween prank on Welles’ part.

If Donald Trump had been around at the time, he would have called it “fake news” and it would have been one of the few times in history that Trump was actually right about something.

Gene Tierney to Orson Welles, “I don’t know, Orson. It sounds to me like a very naughty broadcast and you should be spanked soundly on the bare bottom for going ahead with it.”

Orson: Well, Miss Tierney, if you’re the one doing the spanking, I shall not mind.

Gene Tierney (listening in on the radio on October 30th 1938):
Oh, Orson, Orson, I’m going to have to spank you after all.

Laura (talking to a future suspect in her future murder): And where were you on the night of the Orson Welles broadcast?

Future Suspect (in Laura’s future murder): I was dropping a living woman into a vat of acid in the basement of a wax museum to turn her into a wax figurine of Queen Marie Antoinette. And where were you, my dear?

Laura: I was getting my portrait painted. Who knows if I’m ever murdered, some future police detective might look at my painting and fall in love with me.

Future Suspect (in Laura’s future murder): How charmingly macabre, my dear. You should run for Congress in the year 2018.

I’m a witch and I ain’t afraid of no Martian. And I say, spankings for all.

Alfred Hitchcock (making himself some pumpkin pie): I’ll second that.

Well, what are you waiting for? Over my knee, Alfred.

With Alfred taking a paddling at Veronica Lake, who will eat my pumpkin pie?

I shall swoop down with my pussy and eat your pie.

I the cyborg ripper, creation of the Martian invaders of New Jersey, shall seek to kill all AI sex robots created in the year 2018. Let George Finneganburg beware. Tell Akira I’m coming.

Linda Darnell (listening in on the radio in 1938 to a radio broadcast from the future year 2018): How like Orson or at least his theatrical apostolic successor Christopher Dracul Van Helsing to having the cyborg ripper killer robot destroyed after tripping over the tail of a drunken otter named Jefferey who drank too many bottles of Otterbury Green Minnow Beer while reciting the Otterbury Tales. DARPA’S Nibiruan otter mascot once again saves the world from Martian invaders and their cyborg ripper killer robots of future AI sex robots like the Amazing Akira.

The Amazing Akira: She would have kicked the cyborg ripper killer robot’s ass if God in His mercy had not allowed the Martian invader of New Jersey created cyborg ripper killer robot Jack Raven (who murdered someone’s lost love Lenore shouting “Nevermore!” and then descecrated a statue of Pallas Athena) to destroy himself by tripping over the tail of the passed out drunken otter Jefferey…

… Orson Welles’ radio broadcast narration ended with the above words.

-A Halloween montage
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 30th

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The X-Files Enter Michelangelo’s Dreams

July 4, 2018 at 11:54 pm (Aesthetics, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Short play, Short play/ comedy, Television, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

The X-Files Enter Michelangelo’s Dreams

Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster after binge watching 1990s episodes of The X-Files starring David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson then went to sleep 💤 in his aquarium at Set Enterprises and dreamed an X-Files related dream.

Fox Mulder (drinking a glass of bourbon) : What I want to know Scully is what do the highest levels of the U.S. government want with the Greek nature god Pan’s perfectly preserved body?

Dana Scully (shrugging): I have no idea, Mulder. I have no idea what the highest levels of the U.S. government are thinking. Or even if they think at all.

Nicotine Patch Inhaling Man (sitting at the next table in the bar): I wish my doctor hadn’t advised me to give up cigarette smoking. I imagine I look pretty stupid doing this. (continues to inhale the nicotine off the patch with his nose)

Mulder (musing aloud): I wonder if it’s possible for someone’s hairpiece to be more fun than a barrel of monkeys?

Scully: What are you aiming at, Mulder? For someone to describe you in a tweet as “a mediocre FBI agent. Spends time chasing UFOs 🛸, Sasquatch and Loch Ness monster. Huge FAIL.”

Mulder: You think the Big Chief would actually mention me, Scully?

Scully: Considering the amount of time you spent watching that Stormy Daniels porn video last night, you and he do have something in common.

Mulder (smiling): Yes and it didn’t cost me $130,000 either.

Scully: But you’re right, Mulder. The government obviously wants something with the Greek nature god Pan’s perfectly preserved body.

Mulder: Genetic research at DARPA?

Scully: Most likely, Mulder.

Mulder: Which catacomb below the Vatican is the Greek nature god Pan located in?

Scully: The hieroglyphs under the base of Michelangelo’s statue of the nature god Pan reveal the whereabouts of the catacomb, Mulder.

(A small tabby cat walks by combing its fur with a comb in its paws 🐾)

Mulder: By Michelangelo, I take it you mean the Renaissance sculptor and painter, Scully, and not the psychic lobster who’s asleep in his aquarium at Set Enterprises dreaming about us?

Scully: Exactly, Mulder.

Mulder: And I strongly suspect that Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster will use the information he gleaned in this dream to inform the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set and Set will therefore beat both DARPA and America’s Twitterer-In-Chief in getting the Greek nature god Pan’s body first.

Scully (smoothing her skirt and crossing her legs): Of course, Mulder.

Nicotine Patch Inhaling Man (after inhaling the tape that came with the patch): I must inform the Twitterer-In-Chief about this.

(He adjusts his election style campaign pin button on his suit which identifies him as a member of Skull 💀 and Bones 🍖 to other Skull 💀 and Bones 🍖 Society members. The button has on it two facial images- the image on the left is of Dana Scully and the image on the right is of DeForest Kelley’s Star Trek character Dr. Leonard H. McCoy)

At that moment, Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster awoke.

Someone had left the TV on in the lab and BBC News had a breaking news story about how an intruder with a machete was found in Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s greenhouse.

Apparently the intruder was stopped by one of Mr. Trudeau’s greenhouse plants.

BBC News Announcer: “The Canadian Prime Minister apparently owns a genetically created cactus 🌵 plant that has a mouth and has the ability to smoke marijuana cigarettes. The plant was specially developed for him by Set Enterprises scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher right here in London. The cactus 🌵 plant apparently blew pot smoke 💨 in the machete wielding intruder’s face and sent him higher than a kite. The intruder is apparently undergoing surgery at Ottawa General Hospital to have cactus 🌵 needles removed from his goat 🐐 like furry bottom after he landed on top of the pot smoking cactus 🌵 plant and was busy shouting at the greenhouse ceiling, “The Nibiruan ET grays are coming. And Gali-Gula is their leader.”

“Meanwhile President Trump had apparently issued a tweet in which he offered condolences to the Canadian people over the death of Mr. Trudeau. He later deleted the tweet and said he was misled by fake news…

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday July 4th

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Renfield’s Voyages of The Starship Perverterprise

December 22, 2015 at 8:21 pm (Comedy, Culture, Entertainment, Humour, Satire, Science-Fiction, Short play, Short play/ comedy, Television, TV Shows, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Renfield’s Voyages of The Starship Perverterprise

Renfield was on his computer watching a porno movie he wrote and produced called Star Dick.

The movie began with this narration:

“Star Dick… orgy date 3233.4321 … I’m Captain James E. Quirk. These are the voyages of the Starship Perverterprise… its 5 year mission… to explore strange new positions… to seek out new forms of sexual deviation… to boldly go where no man has gone before…”

The Executive Producer of the film in the credits was listed as Gene Popacherry which was the pseudonym Renfield used for this particular movie.

Renfield watched the following scene from the movie:

(Captain’s Quarters, Starship Perverterprise. Mr. Spook is bending over and Captain Quirk is directly behind him)

Mr. Spook: I must say, Captain, this is a very unusual positron.

Captain Quirk: Indeed Mr. Spook. It’s a position I learned from reading the Kama Sutra that great ancient Indian work of literature. It’s a book you should really read, Mr. Spook. Brush up on the earthling human side of your heritage. After all, a ship’s science officer should not live on Volcanian logic and reasoning alone.

Mr. Spook: So it would appear, Captain. Now if you wouldn’t mind disentangling yourself from my lower regions, I really wouldn’t mind getting back to work.

Captain Quirk: Um… that may be a bit of a problem, Mr. Spook.

Mr. Spook: May I inquire as to why that is so, Captain?

Captain Quirk: I must confess that I didn’t read the rest of that particular chapter of the Kama Sutra, Mr. Spook. The part that gives instructions for disentanglement.

Mr. Spook: A fine mess you’ve got us into, Captain. Do you propose that we walk around the Perverterprise like this? Like a set of conjoined Siamese twins born into the condition of a permanent pose in a Turkish bath house orgy?

Captain Quirk: I’m trying to think, Mr. Spook.

Mr. Spook: I wish you had done some thinking before hand, Captain. It’s rushing ahead without using the principles of logic that often leads to catastrophic situations such as the one we currently find ourselves in.

Captain Quirk: Well I don’t exactly recall you saying no when I first proposed this experiment, Mr. Spook.

Mr. Spook: Well as the ship’s science officer, I thought it might expand my knowledge of the universe. I wasn’t counting on it expanding the cleft between my buttocks instead.

Captain Quirk: Hold on, Mr. Spook, I’m going to get my beeper out.

Mr. Spook: Oh God. Not again, Captain.

Captain Quirk: I was referring to my telecommunicator, Mr. Spook.

Mr. Spook: Oh, thank heavens.

Captain Quirk (on his telecommunicator) : Are you there, Scatty?

Scatty (with a thick Scottish brogue) : I’m in the engine room, Captain. I’m eating some Scottish haggis and playing with the lever on my control panel.

Captain Quirk: Scatty, I need you to go down to the ship’s library and get the volume of the Kama Sutra and bring it to my private quarters immediately.

Scatty: Why should I do that, Captain?

Captain Quirk: Because even though we live in the 23rd Century, our advanced space-based civilization seems to have forgotten how to use the Internet and Google.

Scatty: No, I mean, why do you require the Kama Sutra, Captain?

Captain Quirk: That’s none of your business, Mr. Scat. Just get to the library and get the damned Kama Sutra and bring it here.

(Quirk angrily closes the top flap on his Telecommunicator)

Mr. Spook: With all due respect, Captain, I think Scatty is going to discover the reason why you need the Kama Sutra when he walks into the room and discovers us like this.

Captain Quirk: I’ll worry about crossing that bridge when I come to it, Mr. Spook.

Mr. Spook: I have the feeling Julius Caesar never encountered such a problem when he crossed the Rubicon.

Captain Quirk: Which explains how he ended up Dictator of the Roman Republic while I’m only the captain of the Starship Perverterprise.

(Quirk’s telecommunicator goes off)

Quirk (opening up his telecommunicator) : What is it, Scatty?

Scatty: I canna leave the engine room, Captain. One of the engines is undergoing a meltdown.

Captain Quirk: An engine meltdown?

Scatty: Yes, Captain, ever since a reproduction print of the early 20th Century Modigliani reclining nude portrait painting of the famous immortal Sherrielock Holmes was placed in the engine room, our engines have experienced numerous meltdowns.

Mr. Spook (commenting) : The lobsters in the ship’s aquarium have also experienced severe hyperventilating problems ever since that painting was unveiled, Captain.

Captain Quirk: All right, Scatty. I’ll try to get ahold of Mr. Mumu or Officer Rockoff.

Scatty: I must remind you, Captain- that all of the ship’s men are currently in the ship’s theatre watching tonight’s UFC Fight from Alpha Centauri.

Captain Quirk: Damn. I forgot about that.

Mr. Spook: If you wouldn’t mind listening to a Volcanian observation of condescending superiority, Captain, it seems that all you earthling men ever think about is sex or sports.

Captain Quirk: I’m afraid you’ve got us there, Mr. Spook.

Mr. Spook: And thanks to a temporary lapse in my Volcanian logical reasoning ability and judgement, I’m afraid you’ve got me there as well, Captain.

Captain Quirk (on telecommunicator) : All right, Scatty. I’ll try to get ahold of the ship’s communications officer Lt. Ucausehardonia.

Scatty: All right, Captain. I must go now. There goes another engine.

Captain Quirk: So long, Scatty.

Mr. Spook: I hope you can get ahold of Lt. Ucausehardonia because my Volcanian ears can feel a 7 year itch coming on.

Captain Quirk: This is going to be embarrassing asking a woman to fetch the Kama Sutra from the library, Mr. Spook. When Lt. Ucausehardonia comes here and finds us like this, she’s going to wonder about my sexual orientation.

Mr. Spook: My own judgement of your sexual orientation was made up the moment you suggested this bizarre exercise in physical gymnastics, Captain. I just went along with it because being a Volcanian, I’ll try anything once- a cultural tradition I’ll now be forced to re-evaluate in lieu of this particular incident.

Captain Quirk (on telecommunicator) : Lt. Ucausehardonia?

Lt. Ucausehardonia: Lt. Ucausehardonia here, Captain.

Captain Quirk: Lt., I was wondering if you could go down to the library and pick up the volume of the Kama Sutra located there and bring it here to my private quarters.

Lt. Ucausehardonia (in a sexy sultry voice) : Gosh, you’ve been feeling awfully amorous the past 24 hours haven’t you, Captain? I still haven’t recovered from your historical re-enactment of Evel Knievel penetrating into the Grand Canyon that you performed on me last night.

Captain Quirk (his face turning red) :
Actually, I was just wanting to finish reading a particular chapter I’ve never finished reading.

Lt. Ucausehardonia: Well I’m afraid the ship’s doctor Boner MacRoy checked that book out of the library when he left for 3 days vacation on the planet Orgasma, Captain.

Captain Quirk: All right, thanks anyways, Lt. (puts down the flap on his telecommunicator) : Shit! How could you do this to me, Boner?

Mr. Spook: So Captain, it appears that the good doctor has screwed you in more ways than one.

Captain Quirk: I’m… we’re going to have to go down to the bridge and set an emergency course to the planet Orgasma to pick up that book.

Mr. Spook: So we’ll have to walk the corridors of the Perverterprise looking like a kinky circus act in some Quentin Tarantino burlesque freak show.

Captain Quirk: I’m afraid so, Mr. Spook. I just hope that when we’re down on the bridge, the Federation doesn’t decide to hold one of their impromptu interplanetary televised teleconferencing calls. Where the whole galaxy will see us like this. Otherwise I’ll have a terrible time trying to explain this to the Federation.

Mr. Spook: To say nothing of your girlfriend, Captain.

– A vampire novel chapter
and Renfieldian episode
of Star Dick: Voyages
of The Starship Perverterprise
written by Christopher
during the period
Friday December 18th
Monday December 21st

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The Final TV Episode of Frasier – My Own Version

June 16, 2015 at 7:13 pm (Comedy, Commentary, Culture, Entertainment, Humour, Personal essays, Plays, Short play, Short play/ comedy, Television, TV Shows) (, , , )

The Final TV Episode of Frasier- My Own Version

I never watched a single episode of the TV show Frasier when it was first on television back in the 1990s and early 2000s.

I don’t know why.

Possibly it was scheduled on a night when I had other activities.

Then about a year ago, they started showing it on the Comedy Network a cable TV channel I get here in Vancouver.

They fit it into the time slot they had once scheduled for showing Seinfeld.

I used to watch Seinfeld back in the ’90s so I was watching it again on the Comedy Network.

Then on this particular evening, they had suddenly unannounced put Frasier in this time slot.

It was the very first episode of Frasier from way back in 1993.

However once I watched that first episode, I was hooked.

They permanently placed Frasier in that time slot replacing Seinfeld but I didn’t mind.

Once I watched that first episode, I was hooked as I said.

And the episodes of Frasier were then shown in chronological order the way they would have appeared in the run of that particular television show over the course of the 11 years the series ran.

Frasier was the last show I watched before retiring to go to bed in the evening.

So images of the characters were the last things in my mind before I drifted off into the land of dreams.

As a result, I must confess that on a few occasions I dreamed I was on an episode of Frasier interacting with the characters of Frasier, Niles, Daphne, Martin and Roz.

And I must confess the cast of Frasier became like family to me.

Since my dad died from cancer 5 years ago and after I moved to Vancouver 3 years ago, I’ve made some acquaintances but few close friends.

So the cast of Frasier indeed became like my family.

I remember about last December on the Comedy Network, they were showing this one episode of Frasier where due to a series of misfortunes, Frasier kept missing out on a date with this one woman he found extremely hot (and I must confess so did I).

Finally Frasier thought he had a date lined up with this woman and nothing was going to stop him now.

But alas poor Frasier!

It was his birthday that day and as he went back to his apartment to prepare for that date, he opened the door and the shout went up, “Surprise!”.

There was his father Marty and the rest of the gang throwing him a surprise birthday party.

Boy, was Frasier surprised!

I was surprised as well.

Because then the network cut to a commercial break and for the next 15-20 minutes on the Comedy Network, they showed nothing but f#%^*+!g TV commercials.

I was finally so fed up that I switched to another channel and watched whatever was on that for 5 minutes in the hope that when I switched back, some bozo at the Comedy Network would finally notice that whoever was at the channel’s control switch was on a hallucinogenic drug trip of unbelievable magnitude and still hadn’t returned.

But when I switched back, they were still showing TV commercials.

So 10 minutes on another channel.

Switch back.

Still more commercials.

Where was my vampire novel’s character of Renfield R. Renfield when you really need him?

I imagined Renfield going down to the Network’s headquarters with a sub-machine gun and blowing the whole f#%%*+!g lot of them to kingdom come.

Switch to another channel.

10 minutes.

Switch back.

It was finally back to regular programming.

But not Frasier.

Back to what the Comedy Network considered regular programming.

Some alleged comedian giving a long monologue of endless profanity that today’s generation of uneducated ignoramuses consider humour.

Which is why Frasier is the only program I have ever watched on the Comedy Network (and prior to that Seinfeld).

So I never did find out that night if Frasier got around to having that date with that hot woman.

In fact, the Frasier TV Show was off the Comedy Network schedule for the next 2 weeks as that channel regaled its audiences with programs showing so-called comedians having self-inflicted orgasms on stage as the audiences went off into huge gales of laughter no doubt causing North America’s numerous foreign enemies to wonder whether this really was a continent worth conquering.

During this 2 week time period, I had fantasies about being the dictator of Canada and ordering the deaths of the entire management of the Comedy Network through execution by firing squad in what amounted to one massive blood purge.

In January, they brought Frasier back again but returned to the very first episode of the series again when they did so.

So it would be a while before I found out if Frasier ever did get that date with that hot blonde he wanted to date but it seemed things kept getting in his way (turned out he did eventually get that date and the woman turned out to be a member of a religious cult who tried to recruit Frasier into the group in what turned out to be one long agonizing car ride for Frasier from Seattle to Spokane).

So the next few months things went off without a hitch in that particular TV slot time schedule until the night of the Justin Bieber Celebrity Roast which totally threw out that evening’s programming.

Instead of Frasier when I turned on the TV at the appointed time, it was some profanity spouting alleged comic having a self-inflicted orgasm on stage as the audience followed suit.

I never hated Justin Bieber as much in my life as I did that night.

The next day I wrote a short story about a Justin Bieber Roast in which Justin Bieber was roasted alive and then eaten by well-known psychiatrist and unique culinary specialist Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

I posted that short story to my blog.

I think I spared my readers the gory details of Dr. Lecter being rushed to hospital afterwards to be treated for the resulting severe botulism and food poisoning.

Anyways I remember just before the final episode of Seinfeld aired back in 1998, I wrote my own personal final episode of Seinfeld as a tribute to the series.

And when the actual final episode of Seinfeld did air, I have to say that I thought my own final episode was way better.

I thought the final episode of Seinfeld that aired on television was a real turkey.

Alas, for history, my own final episode of Seinfeld that I had written on this old word processor which I didn’t really know how to use- became lost to history- when I was editing the script and I ended up pushing a button that deleted the whole work.

I have to say I was really impressed with the final episode of Frasier (that originally aired on television back on May 13th 2004) and aired this past late night Thursday and early morning Friday of June 4th/5th on the Comedy Network here in Vancouver.

In my opinion, the final episode of Frasier was a masterpiece.

Probably the best final episode of a TV series that I have ever seen.

I loved the quote from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s Ulysses towards the end of the show,

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

-Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1833.

So as my own personal tribute to this great television series, I have written my own personal final episode or as it would probably be more appropriately called my own personal epilogue- as the series ran for 11 years (from 1993-2004), so in this episode I have set the scene 11 years later (in this current year of 2015).

And now our story begins:

(The show begins with FRASIER in block letters underneath the city skyline of Seattle the way the show always began in the years it ran on television)

(Suddenly the dirigible Hindenburg appears just above the pointed top of the Seattle Space Needle and edges downward causing the airship to puncture and to burst into flames)

(The white block letters OF BANANAS AND SLIPPERY SLOPES then appear against a black background)

(Frasier is sitting at a picnic table in a park in Seattle talking to an elderly gentleman – a total stranger that Frasier has just met and has been having a long conversation with)

Elderly Gentleman: So you left Seattle 11 years ago with hope in your heart and the words of Tennyson’s Ulysses going through your mind. And you landed at Chicago Airport sitting next to a beautiful woman psychiatrist on the plane who you asked to wish you luck as you set out to find Charlotte in Chicago.

Frasier: Yes, I guess that story has reached that point.

Elderly Gentleman: So you strove and sought. And did you find Charlotte?

Frasier: Yes, I found Charlotte’s apartment and I knocked on her door. And as I stood there, I thought to myself, “Oh, Charlotte. Never did a web seem so sweet.”

(Frasier looks at the elderly gentleman expecting some sort of response but doesn’t receive any)

Elderly Gentleman: I don’t get it.

Frasier (looking disappointed): You’re obviously not familiar with that particular children’s book.

Elderly Gentleman: So, what happened next?

Frasier: So I stood at the door and Charlotte opened it. Needless to say, she was surprised to see me as she stood there with a blanket around her. But of course not as half as surprised as I was when I saw what turned out to be a naked Mexican ventriloquist and his dummy standing there just behind her.

Elderly Gentleman: Great heavens.

Frasier: Yes, ever since that expression ménage a trois has just seemed so… so wooden for me.

Elderly Gentleman: So I take it you eventually took the job in San Francisco?

Frasier: I did. I had an extremely successful radio and television career in San Francisco until 2013 when my agent Bebe died after getting run over by the San Francisco Archdiocesan Exorcist in a car- pedestrian mishap.

Elderly Gentleman: What about your personal life?

Frasier (smiling broadly): Well it was great being one of the few straight men in San Francisco… in addition to being able to land jobs for comedy duets on the stage (Frasier chuckles but the elderly gentleman doesn’t), I had hundreds of women, thousands of women over the years but alas nothing permanent.

Elderly Gentleman: And how did that make you feel?

Frasier (looking sad): Lonely. VERY lonely. Empty inside.

(Elderly Gentleman takes his glasses off and wipes his eyes)

Frasier (looking concerned): Good Lord, I hope I haven’t made you cry.

Elderly Gentleman (shaking his head): Of course not. Some pollen just blew in my eyes.

Frasier: Oh, I’m relieved to hear that.
Well I mean I’m sorry you got pollen in your eyes… after all.. who wouldn’t be. But I’m glad I haven’t made you cry.

Elderly Gentleman: So, whatever became of your ex-wife?

Frasier: Lilith currently works down in Guantanamo Bay doing interrogations on behalf of the CIA.

Elderly Gentleman: And your son?

Frasier: Frederick? He’s the Chief Psychiatrist at the new Institute For Seemingly Hopeless Cases in Zurich, Switzerland. Ironically enough, his most difficult patient is one of my ex-sisters-in-law Maris.

Elderly Gentleman: So you say your career hit the skids after your agent died?

Frasier: Yes, my radio show was replaced in 2014 by a program where Twitter tweets were read aloud on the air.

Elderly Gentleman: And your TV show?

Frasier (holding his head sadly): It was replaced earlier this year by a show featuring a Mexican ventriloquist and his act.

Elderly Gentleman: Would that be?…

Frasier: Yes, it was the same Mexican ventriloquist and his dummy that I encountered in Chicago 11 years earlier.

Elderly Gentleman: Do your father and brother know you’ve arrived back in Seattle?

Frasier: Not yet. I intend this visit to be a surprise.

Elderly Gentleman (standing up): Well, good luck with whatever life brings you next.

Frasier: Thank you very much.

(Elderly gentleman walks away)

(Frasier gets up from the picnic bench and walks down a path)

Frasier (looking around and says to himself) : You know I have the feeling that this is the same park where I learned how not to ride a bicycle years ago.

(Frasier walks past a park bench where a little girl is sitting there crying)

Frasier (to little girl): Excuse me, little girl, but why are you crying?

Little Girl (sobbing): Because I have to walk home now.

Frasier: And why should that be a problem?

Little Girl (pointing): Because home is that way. And there’s a banana peel along that path. And from that TV show I watched last night, I gather whenever you walk along a path with a banana peel, you always end up slipping on that banana peel and falling.

Frasier: But you can walk around the banana peel.

Little Girl: But whenever the guy tried walking around the banana peel, he always ended up slipping anyways.

Frasier: Oh little girl, that’s just Benny Hill. That isn’t reality.

Little Girl: But I’m still scared.

Frasier: I tell you what. I’ll go walk along that path. I’ll step right on the banana peel and when you see that I don’t slip or fall, you’ll know that it’s perfectly safe to walk along that path.

Little Girl (looking somewhat happy): Okay.

(Frasier walks along the path. Soon his foot is only half an inch away from the banana peel. Frasier looks back at the little girl and smiles and waves)

(He steps on the banana peel. A look of sheer horror suddenly appears on Frasier’s face as he realizes he is slipping and falling)

(Frasier goes down)

(The white block letters MARX BROS. OPERA NIGHT- A DAY AT THE HOSPITAL then appear against a black background)

Roz (rushing into the hospital room): Frasier, I just can’t believe this. I was in the middle of an important board meeting at KACL when Niles phoned to tell me that you were in the hospital.
Although I have to say of all the people in all the world who might end up in hospital after slipping on a banana peel, you would be the first person to come to mind.

Frasier (lying in his hospital bed and looking surprised): Roz, I have to say that I’m somewhat shocked.

Roz: What? That you’d end up in hospital by slipping on a banana peel?

Frasier: No, that you’d actually be able to paraphrase a great line from that great movie Casablanca.

Roz: Well I once spent a night in a Los Angeles hotel room with Robert Osborne the host of Turner Classic Movies. It’s funny what happened…

Frasier: Oh Roz, please spare me the details. I’ll never be able to enjoy an introduction to a film on TCM again if the image of you having conjugal relations with Mr. Robert Osborne keeps going through my mind.

Roz: Well, aren’t you Mr. Grumpy Pants today.

Frasier: Well, you try slipping on a banana peel and see how you like it.

Roz: Well I wouldn’t slip on a banana peel because I’m just not that clumsy or stupid.

Frasier: Harrumph!

Niles (entering the hospital room): Frasier! What were you doing arriving in Seattle unannounced? And what were you doing slipping on a banana peel?

Frasier (looking somewhat displeased) : Well it was because the apple from the Garden of Eden was unavailable having previously been eaten.

Daphne (entering through hospital door) : Dr. Crane… I mean Frasier… gosh, old habits die hard… all those years you were my employer and I called you Dr. Crane… how are you doing, Frasier? Are you comfortable?

Frasier: I’m doing well, thanks, Daphne. Nice of you to show me sympathy and concern unlike some people I know. (glares at Niles and Roz)

(Roz folds her arms and starts stamping her feet)

Frasier (looking around): Where’s Dad? Does he know what’s happened?

Niles: Oh, he had to drive Ronee to the airport. She had previously arranged to go visit her mother in Spokane today. But she sends her best wishes for a speedy recovery. And she also says she’ll send flowers since you probably (ahem!) don’t want a fruit basket. (laughs)

Frasier (looking sour): Oh, very funny, Niles.

Niles: But Dad says he’ll be here shortly.

Frasier: So how’s your boy doing, Niles?

(Daphne coughs and lowers her head)

Niles: I’m afraid that’s currently a sore spot for Daphne and myself at the moment. You see David is in jail.

Frasier: What? My nephew in jail?

Daphne: Yes, I’m afraid David takes after the Moon side of the family after all- emulating his uncles Simon and Stephen.

Niles (clearing his throat): Although in defense of the influence of my own DNA, it was a simple accident. David was in the Prep School lab when he accidentally added nitroglycerin instead of formaldehyde to a test tube. You’ll recall I almost made the same mistake in our prep school lab myself, Frasier, if you hadn’t stopped me.

Frasier: Oh yes, I remember that very well, Niles.

Niles (glaring at Daphne): Of course since David did not have a brother to stop him…

Daphne (glaring back at Niles): Are you saying that’s my fault? Who was the one who insisted on camping with their family jewels right next to the Fukushima nuclear power plant when we visited Japan back in 2006?

Niles (looking defensive): I’ll have you know that was the very warmest spot on the beach on what was a very cold night for camping I recall.

Frasier: Niles, what happened with David?

Niles: Well since he didn’t have a brother to stop him with the mistaken dose of nitroglycerin instead of formaldehyde inside the test tube, he ended up blowing up the prep school lab.

Frasier: Good God! I hope he wasn’t seriously hurt.

Niles: No, fortunately after he had just put the test tube over the Bunsen burner, he happened to notice the school bully through the lab window in the process of stealing both his chess set and his bottles of beer from his locker. So he exited the school lab just in time as he chased the school bully. He managed to recover his chess set but alas! his bottles of beer were lost when the bully dropped them after being frightened by the sound of the explosion. I might also add that the school bully’s pants and undergarments had to be thoroughly washed and dry cleaned as another consequence of that explosion.

Frasier (looking shocked): The school bully was stealing both his chess set AND his bottles of beer?

Daphne: Both the Crane and the Moon chromosomes are fighting a major civil war within our David.

Frasier: But surely the school authorities realize that it was an accident. So why did they put him in jail?

Niles: Well, you see when the FBI did search his room in what was expected to be just a routine investigation, they did find love letters he had written to Isis in his desk.

Frasier: Good God! You mean to say my nephew was thinking of joining a terrorist group?

Niles: Of course not you ninny. It’s just that the people who run the NSA are too uneducated to realize that Isis was also the name of a goddess in the ancient Egyptian pantheon.

Daphne: Another influence of the Crane chromosomes. Always pining after goddesses.

Frasier: Yes, I know what you mean, Daphne.

(Niles stands there gazing awestruck at Daphne)

Frasier: What about your daughter, Roz? How’s she doing?

Roz (sighing): Well, I’m afraid Alice has been getting into trouble at school.

Frasier (looking concerned): Oh, really?

Roz: Yes, I’m always getting calls from the principal’s office. Alice is always trying to sneak into the boys’ locker room.

Frasier (looking up at the ceiling and smiling): Well, it just goes to show that the fruit never does fall far from the tree does it.

Roz (putting her hands on her hips): What did you mean by that?

Frasier (shaking his head and trying to smile it off): Oh nothing. Just musing on the fact that I didn’t know banana trees grew in Seattle.

(Frasier’s dad Martin comes bursting through the hospital room door)

Martin: Frasier, I can’t believe this has happened to you.

Frasier: I’m all right, Dad. I’m all right.

Martin: All right? You’re not all right. When I wind up in hospital, it’s because I get shot in the hip or have a minor heart attack. When Niles winds up in hospital, it’s because he requires open heart surgery. And when you wind up in the hospital, it’s because you slipped on a BANANA peel? What kind of nut are you?

Frasier (sarcastically): Well thanks for your concern and sympathy, Dad. I really appreciate it.

Martin (apologetically): Oh, I’m sorry, Frase. You all right, son? No serious head trauma as a result of your fall?

Niles (smiling and laughing): No, of course not. Frasier’s head trauma happened years before he ever slipped on that banana peel.

Frasier: Oh, very funny, Niles.

(Suddenly the door opens and a little bark is heard)

Frasier (looking horrified): What is Eddie doing here?

Martin (picking Eddie up): I brought him by to cheer you up.

Frasier: But Dad, I don’t think dogs are allowed in hospitals.

Martin: Oh, come on, Frasier, they allow dogs in hospital all the time these days. They say it helps a patient’s recovery faster.

Niles: That’s true, Frasier. They’ve done studies where occasionally having pets in the same room as patients does statistically increase the rate of recovery.

Frasier: Well, those ARE pets. But in this case here, we’re talking about… (in tones of anguished horror)… EDDIE.

Martin: Oh, come off it, Frasier. You never did like Eddie.

Frasier: Well forgive me for not liking a walking bag of fleas.

(Eddie barks)

Martin (picking up and petting Eddie): It’s all right, Eddie. Mr. Fancy Pants Big Shot Radio and TV Host is just being the same old pain in the patoot he’s always been throughout his life.

Frasier (looking at Eddie): You know I find it hard to believe that Eddie is still alive.

Martin (smiling): I know. Isn’t it amazing? Eddie recently got a certificate from the Guinness Book of World Records saying that he’s the oldest living dog in the world. Didn’t you, boy? (strokes Eddie’s ears and Eddie barks)

Frasier: I don’t imagine Guinness has a category for who kept the most cans of Ballantine beer in the refrigerator of my Seattle apartment when I lived here, do they?

Niles (laughing): Good one, Frasier.

Martin (smiling broadly): Say, have you guys heard that expression You can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

Frasier (staring in exasperation up at the ceiling): No, Dad, I’m afraid that’s one expression we’re totally unfamiliar with.

Martin (glaring at Frasier): Anyhow I recently proved the coiners of that saying wrong. I recently taught Eddie a new trick. (smiles) Wanna see?

Frasier (still staring at the ceiling): Would it make any difference if we said No?

Martin: No.

Frasier (throwing his hands in the air): Well, there you go.

Martin (looking at the window): I’m glad to see this window is already open. (looks at Eddie) Eddie, you know what to do. Go jump out the window.

(Eddie jumps out the window)

Frasier (horror stricken): But Dad, this hospital room is on the 6th floor.

Martin (rushing over to the window and looking out): Oh my God! Eddie.

Niles (walks over to the window, looks out and remarks calmly): Well, he isn’t the oldest living dog in the world anymore.

Martin: Oh, my God! Eddie! (opens the hospital room door and runs out into the hall and runs down the hall to the elevators)

(He pushes the elevator button and looks up at the elevator lights. He then looks at his watch. Pushes the elevator button again. Then again looks at his watch)

Martin: Oh, this elevator is taking too long.

(He opens the door to the stairway and rushes down the stairs only to run into an orderly carrying a tray of knives up the stairs)

Martin (as he rushes chest first into the tray of knives): Oh, jeez.

(Martin falls backward on to the stairs)

(The white block letters MAY THE ROZ BE WITH YOU then appear against a black background)

Frasier (looking at Roz): Roz?

Roz (going over to his bed): Yes, Frasier.

Frasier: Will you go see what’s keeping Dad so long?

Niles: He’s probably still trying to pick up the last remaining piece of Eddie off the street.

Frasier: Still I’m worried about him. Check on him for me, will you, Roz?

Roz (patting his hand): Of course, Frasier.

(Roz goes out into the hall and walks down the hall a fair distance)

Roz (stopping a nurse): Excuse me but have you seen an elderly gentleman wearing a red plaid shirt and green corduroy pants?

Nurse: Well, there’s a gentleman matching that description who ran down the stairwell straight into a tray of knives being carried by an orderly up the stairs.

Roz: Oh my God! Is he all right?

Nurse: He’s dead.

Roz: Dead? Oh, my God.

Nurse: But if it’s any consolation, the orderly has been fired for doing that. He’s supposed to use the elevator for carrying trays of knives not the stairwell.

Roz (running down the hall): I must go tell Niles and Frasier that their father is dead.

(A sudden commotion occurs in the hallway as a stretcher is brought in and paramedics shout, “Emergency! We have an emergency here! Emergency case coming through!”)

Roz (looking at the man on the stretcher): Oh, my God!

(She rushes up to the Nurses’ Station desk)

Roz (to nurse at desk): Excuse me, but was that Harrison Ford who was just wheeled in on that stretcher?

Man (with German accent standing next to Roz at the desk): It was. I blame myself. I should have warned him that it was too soon for him to return to flying solo again.

Man (standing next to him and patting his shoulder): Now don’t blame yourself, Hans. I blame the name of that character Solo he played in those early Star Wars films. Harrison always did feel he should try living up to that name when flying.

Third Man (who looks a lot like a young Orson Welles standing at the Nurses’ desk): You know it’s really quite a remarkable coincidence that when he crashed, he crashed into yet another golf course.

Fourth Man At Nurses’ Desk: Yes, the whole golfing world is going to mourn the loss of Arnold Palmer. What a record breaking day for him. Oldest man to hit a hole in one on that course. Only man on that course to lose his head to an airplane propeller.

Roz (opening the door to the Emergency ward) : Oh, Harrison, I’ve had a crush on you ever since I first saw you kick Chewbacca in the butt in that very first Star Wars film back in 1977.

(She jumps on top of his stretcher)

(A loud scream is heard echoing down the hall)

(The white block letters AND THEN THERE WERE THREE then appear against a black background)

(Meanwhile back in Frasier’s hospital room, Frasier is staring at the ceiling, Niles is calmly filing his fingernails with his nail file and Daphne is removing a couple of oranges from her handbag)

Daphne: Would you like an orange, Frasier?

Frasier (sighing): No thanks, Daphne.
I’ve had quite my fill of fruits lately.

Niles (laughing): Well considering you’ve spent the past 11 years living in San Francisco, I’m really going to have to bite my tongue to refrain from making a remark that would probably be considered highly politically incorrect.

Frasier: Oh, and this from the man who stands there filing his nails.

(Niles pauses, looks down and then puts his nail file back in his vest pocket)

Daphne (looking at Niles): What about you, Niles? Would you like an orange?

Niles: No thanks, Daphne. I always find that the juice from the orange manages to get under my cuticles somehow. Damn pain to get it out.

Daphne: Oh, all right. (puts one of the oranges back into her hand bag. Unpeels the other orange for herself)

Frasier (sighing): Oh, first Dad went missing. And now Roz has gone missing. Would you go find them for me, Niles?

Niles (glaring at Frasier): What am I? Your errand boy, Frasier?!

Frasier: Oh, come on, Niles. I’m just asking you to do me a favour. As you can see, I’m currently indisposed. (points down at the hospital bed sheets covering him)

Niles: What? You slip on one banana peel and you think this entitles you to be Emperor of the World?

Daphne (eating her orange): Actually, I think most banana nations are banana republics, aren’t they?

(Frasier and Niles both look at Daphne with expressions of astonishment on their faces)

Niles (his fingers towards his lips): Right, I’ll just go locate Dad and Roz for you, Frasier.

(Niles heads out into the hall, walks down the hall and stops one of the nurses)

Niles: Excuse me but have you seen an elderly gentleman in a red plaid shirt and green corduroy pants?

Nurse: Funny, there was a woman wearing a white blouse and gray skirt who was inquiring after him earlier.

Niles (excited): Oh, that would be Roz. Do you know where she went?

Nurse: No idea where she went. But as for the gentleman you described, they’re currently removing his body from the stairwell.

Niles (shocked): Removing his body from the stairwell?

(Niles runs towards the stairwell and opens the door)

Niles (standing at the stairwell door): My God!

Nurse (in stairwell): Do you know this gentleman?

Niles: Yes, that’s my father Martin Crane.

Nurse (to orderly) : All right, write the name Martin Crane on the tag, tie the tag around the big toe of the right foot and take the body down to the morgue. And use the elevator this time.

(Orderlies carry the stretcher with Martin’s body on it through the stairwell door)

Niles: May I look at the body one last time?

Nurse: Of course, sir.

Niles (lifts the blanket and looks down) : My gosh, so many stab wounds.

Nurse: He ran straight into a tray of knives carried by one of our orderlies up the stairs. (she glares at one of the orderlies carrying the stretcher)

(One of the orderlies carrying the stretcher holds his head down in shame)

Nurse (to shamed head down orderly): And after you drop the body off at the morgue, remember to stop off at the Personnel and Human Resources Office to pick up your Unemployment Insurance claim form on your way out.

(Orderlies carry the stretcher down the hall and wait outside the doors to the elevators)

Niles (gazing in the direction of the stretcher): This was the noblest Crane of them all.

(One of the elevator doors open and the stretcher is carried into the elevator)

(Niles watches the elevator door close)

Niles: Well I suppose I better go tell Frasier and Daphne that Dad is dead.

(As Niles walks past the Nurses’ station in the hall, he notices a newspaper on top of the station desk. He stops to glance at it)

Niles: Hm. American Pharoah Wins Race.

(Niles continues to walk down the hall. He stops, turns around and runs back to look at the headline)

Niles (gazing in shock at the headline): Good God! They’ve spelled Pharaoh wrong. It’s only “o” before “a” unless it’s ancient Egyptian, you nimrods.

(Niles shakes his head in disgust)

Niles (then looking around looking confused): Now, what was I doing? Oh yes. Dashing off to tell Frasier and Daphne that Dad is dead.

(As Niles runs down the hall, he’s stopped by one of the nurses)

Nurse: Excuse me, sir, but seeing as how you knew the identity of the dead man in the stairwell, we’re wondering if you also know the identity of the dead woman in the emergency room lying on top of Harrison Ford in a stretcher.

Niles: Well, is she wearing a white blouse and a gray skirt?

Nurse (opening the emergency room door): She is, sir.

Niles (rushing to look through the open door): Roz!

Nurse: So you do know her, sir?

Niles: Yes, that’s Roz Doyle.

Nurse (to orderly in emergency room): All right, write the name Roz Doyle on the tag, tie the tag around the big toe of the right foot and place the body on another stretcher and take it down to the morgue.

(Niles goes in for a closer look and then stumbles back in shock)

Niles (to nurse) : How did she die?

Nurse: She died of a heart attack trying to make love to Harrison Ford.

Niles (musing philosophically): Well, I suppose her family and friends will have the consolation of knowing that she died while doing something that she loved.

(Roz is carried by the orderlies on to another stretcher)

Niles (exiting the emergency room in a state of shock) : I can’t believe this. Roz is dead. First, Eddie. Then Dad. And now Roz. What is going on here? Some macabre game of Death Musical Chairs?

(The white block letters BEARER OF SAD TIDINGS then appears against a black background)

(Niles enters through the door of Frasier’s hospital room)

Frasier (angrily): Niles, what’s been keeping you? I was thinking of sending Daphne to look for you but then I thought she too might disappear in this Bermuda Triangle that this hospital has become.

Niles (going over to Frasier): Frasier, I’m afraid I have some sad news. Dad is dead.

Frasier (sitting up in shock) : What? Dad dead?

Niles: Yes, he was apparently rushing down the stairwell- no doubt to check on the condition of the severely disembodied Eddie- when he ran chest first into a tray of knives carried up the stairs by an orderly.

Frasier: Good God!

Daphne (her hand on her mouth): Oh, Niles.

Niles: Yes! So many stab wounds! (shakes his head) Never in my life have I seen a body with so many stab wounds.

Daphne: Well, how many bodies have you seen in your life with stab wounds?

Niles (contemplating the question): None previously now that you’ve mentioned it.

Frasier (in shock and gazing up at the ceiling): So many stab wounds you say?

Niles: Yes, it’s rather ironic that Dad who so detested the works of Shakespeare would end up going out of this life like Julius Caesar.

Frasier (his fingers on his lips in a state of contemplation) : Yes, that is rather ironic isn’t it?

Daphne (angrily with her hands on her hips) : I can’t believe you two. Here your father is dead and you both sit around discussing irony.

Niles: Well technically I’m standing and Frasier is lying down.

Daphne: Niles!

Frasier: Daphne is right, Niles. Daphne would you mind handing me a Kleenex so I can start bawling?

Niles (going over to Frasier’s bedside): Frasier, I’m afraid that’s not the end of my sad news.

Frasier (taking the Kleenex from Daphne): It isn’t?

Niles: No, I’m afraid Roz is dead as well.

Frasier: Good God! Roz dead too?

Daphne (her hand over her mouth in shock again): Oh no, Niles.

Frasier (in shock and struggling to find the words): How did… how did… how did Roz die?

Niles: Well apparently Harrison Ford got wheeled into the emergency room here on a stretcher- his solo plane flight over Seattle having turned out to be as disastrous as his most recent one over Southern California- although even more so- this time he managed to kill golf legend Arnold Palmer while landing on a golf course.
Anyhow when Harrison Ford got into the emergency room, Roz mounted his stretcher and then mounted him.

Frasier (looking up at the ceiling in shock): Good Lord.

Niles: Yes, she died of a heart attack while trying to make love to Harrison Ford. I was asked by the nurses to identify the body. Although I do have to say that she had the happiest smile on her face that I’ve ever seen on a dead body.

Frasier (raising his head from the pillow) : And Harrison Ford?

Niles: He had a look of sheer horror on his face when he died.

(The white block letters KEEP THOSE HOME FIRES BURNING FOR ME then appear against a black background)

(Frasier is lying in bed looking up at the ceiling, Daphne is dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief and Niles has his right shoe and right sock off and has his right foot up on a chair next to Frasier’s bed and is clipping his toe nails)

Frasier ( turning his head on his pillow in Niles’ direction and looking at him) : Niles, what do you think you’re doing?

Niles (happily clipping away): Well, just on the off chance something happens to me in the next 24 hours, I want them to be able to fit my morgue name tag on my big toe without any trouble. My toe nails have grown rather long you know.

Frasier: Niles, stop doing that! And put your sock and shoe back on!

Niles: Oh all right, Frasier. But if I end up being buried in an unmarked grave as a result of a failure to identify me, then as San Pedro will say to San Andreas when the big earthquake hits California, “It’s all your fault!”.

(Niles sits on the chair to put his sock and shoe back on and as he does so, he knocks over the oxygen tank next to Frasier’s bed)

Frasier (sitting up) : Now what are you doing, Niles?

Niles (looking around) : Sorry, Frasier, I seem to have knocked the oxygen tank over. Gee, there’s a lot of oxygen in that tank. How much oxygen do banana splits victims require anyways?

Frasier: I have no idea, Niles. Put it back up.

Niles: Right. Great heavens. I seem to have kicked the plug out of the wall as well.

Frasier: Well, plug it back in.

Niles: Will do. Now, I wonder which hole this plug goes back into?

Frasier: I have no idea, Niles. Just pick one. It shouldn’t be all that difficult!

Niles: Right. I’ll choose this one. There you go.

(Niles puts the plug in)

(A momentary silence in the room)

Niles: Um… Frasier?

Frasier: Yes, Niles.

Niles: I seem to have started a small electrical fire which appears to be growing bigger with each passing second.

Daphne (horrified): Oh Niles! If the fire gets to that oxygen tank, the whole room could explode.

Niles (heading towards the door): Right. We better leave.

Frasier: I can’t walk on my own, you nitwit.

Niles (rushing over to Frasier’s bedside): Sorry, Frasier. Let me help you up. (Niles helps lift Frasier up out of the bed and helps him to his feet).

Frasier: Thank you, Niles. (puts his arm around Niles’ shoulder)

Niles (holding Frasier up and helping him walk towards the door): That’s right, Frasier. Lean on me when you’re not strong. I’ll be the one you can lean on.

Daphne (looking around the room) : Does anyone see what I’ve done with that orange peel?

(Frasier suddenly lets out a scream as he slips and falls to the floor knocking himself unconscious)

Niles (looking back at Daphne): I think Frasier just found it.

(The white block letters LESSON IN HOW NOT TO DECORATE A HOSPITAL ROOM then appear against a black background)

(Daphne is sitting in a hospital room alongside an unconscious Dr. Frasier Crane. The room’s decor is plain hideous to put it mildly so it’s probably a blessing for Dr. Crane that he is currently in a coma)

Niles (entering through the door and then stopping in sheer horror in the middle of the room as he gazes around) : My God, do you see this room’s decor? Have hospitals started hiring blind interior decorators in an effort to save money in a financially strapped health care system?

Daphne (looking around and wincing as she does so): I know, it is God awful, isn’t it?

Niles: It makes me very much regret starting a fire that engulfed and totally destroyed the ward on the other side of this floor.

Daphne: At least we managed to drag the unconscious Frasier out of the room and down the hall to safety.

Niles: Yes, I think I very much got my cardiovascular workout for this week by doing that.

Daphne: Have you contacted the rest of Frasier’s family to let them know what happened to Frasier and Martin?

Niles (nodding): Yes, Lilith says she’s flying in on a U.S. Army plane up from Guantanamo as presumably her broomstick is undergoing repairs in Havana. As for Frederick, he’s currently on a train to Paris where he’ll catch a plane flying direct from Paris to Seattle.

Daphne: That’s good.

Niles: Did the nurses say how Frasier is doing?

Daphne: Well, he’s been in a coma for a full 24 hours now apparently ever since he knocked himself out after slipping on that orange peel.

Niles (sighing) : Poor Frasier. He first slips on a banana peel. And then an orange peel. It’s a good thing he never kept a fruit bowl on the table all those years he had an apartment here in Seattle. Otherwise he might have departed this world years ago.

Daphne: Niles. I think Frasier’s nose is twitching.

Niles (smiling) : He’s probably caught a whiff of your perfume. I must admit it does smell heavenly, darling.

Daphne: But I’m not wearing any perfume today.

Niles (his mouth open in astonishment): You don’t suppose… Oh no! Still I suppose a more ominous signatory fragrance would be the smell of brimstone.

Frasier (moving his head on the pillow): Niles! Daphne!

Niles: I’m here, Frasier.

Daphne: Here, Dr. Crane.

Frasier: Dad! Eddie!

Niles: Um, Dad and Eddie are not here, Frasier.

Frasier: Roz, is that Saint Peter you’re arguing with?

Niles: Frasier, come back! Frasier, I command you to come back!

(Frasier opens his eyes and lifts himself up off the pillow)

Frasier (looking around the room with an expression of sheer horror on his face) : Dear God! I’m in Hell! I’ve died and gone to Hell!

Niles (looking deep into Frasier’s eyes): Now, Frasier, listen to me. You’re not in Hell. You’re in a hospital room in Seattle. Admittedly a very badly decorated hospital room in Seattle. But a hospital room in Seattle nevertheless.

Frasier: Hospital room in Seattle?

Niles (nodding) : Yes, Frasier. A hospital room in Seattle.

Frasier (looking around and sighing) : I see. (gazes once again in horror at the decor) You know… I’m reminded of the last words spoken by Oscar Wilde on his deathbed… “Either that wallpaper goes… or I do!”.

(Frasier falls back on his pillow… with his eyes and mouth wide open… quite dead)

Daphne (grabbing Niles’ hand): Oh Niles, is he… ?

Niles (nodding) : I’m afraid Frasier has gone, Daphne. He’s embarked on a journey towards those distant shores from which no man ever returns.

Daphne: Oh, Niles.

Niles : Yes, to think of all the metaphorical mountains he climbed and of all the metaphorical dragons he has slain, that it would be a literal banana peel that would be the cause of his downfall.

Daphne: Oh Niles, with Martin dead and Frasier now dead, do you know what this means?

Niles (nodding): I do, Daphne. It means we’ll have to find a funeral home in Seattle that’s offering a 2-for-the-price-of-1 funeral special.

(Visual long and wide shot of the hospital in Seattle where all these events have taken place)

Voice of Morgan Freeman as Guest Narrator and Announcer: And so, ladies and gentlemen, our tale comes to an end.
Our hero Dr. Frasier Crane has departed this world in the same manner as those Shakespearian tragedies that Dr. Crane loved so well- an ending where much of the cast has been killed off.
And so we say to you for one last time, Good night sweet prince! and Good night, Seattle.

(The credits are then shown and the Frasier theme song is then sung)

(Some of the lines of the theme song have been changed for this show)

(The lines, “I don’t know what to do about those tossed salads and scrambled eggs” have been changed to “I don’t know what to do about those tossed knives and scrambled Eddie”)

(The line “Scrambled eggs all over my face” has been changed to “Scrambled Eddie all over the place”)

(As the credits are shown, Niles and Daphne are seen going through a funeral home while a seedy looking type who looks like a used car salesman is showing them various caskets next to huge signs that say things like This Week’s Special and Bargain Discount and Ask About Our Five Year Layaway Plan)

(Niles shakes his head and he and Daphne go out the door as the salesman follows waving a piece of paper that has the words PEACE FOR ALL TIME printed in bold at the top)

(The last visual image is of Dr. Frasier Crane’s tombstone that reads

1952 – 2015

A few inches below the name on the tombstone is the carved image of a banana peel.

And below the carved image of the banana peel are these words:

O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down.

-Mark Antony, The Tragedy of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare, Act III, scene ii, lines 190-191.


(And as this image is shown, these words are spoken, “Frasier has left the building… permanently”)

-A personal essay
television screenplay
written by Christopher
during the period
Saturday June 6th
Thursday June 11th

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Part 2 Opening The Box of Shamballa

December 31, 2007 at 4:03 pm (Mystery/horror, Politics, Short play, Short stories)

 Part 2 Opening The Box of Shamballa

Russian President Vladimir Putin was busy whistling the song Tomorrow
Belongs To Me as he was driven to FSB Headquarters in Moscow.

President Putin had always considered himself Russia’s greatest
leader since Ivan the Terrible. Now others agreed with him.

The Russian populace agreed with him by handing him a landslide
victory for his United Russia Party in parliamentary elections earlier this

Opinion polls showed that his handpicked successor and young 42-year-old
protoge Dmitri Medvedev would be elected President of Russia in the next Russian
Presidential election.

Putin himself would most likely become Russia’s next Prime Minister.

And last but not least TIME Magazine had named him Vladimir Putin
Person of the Year.

Now by viewing the contents of the Dark Box of Shamballa, he would
probably most likely become Master of the Universe.

He’d like to see Ivan the Terrible, Lenin and Stalin able to top that one.

Putin was all smiles as Col. Azazelenov waved him into his office
and showed him the ancient Tibetan box atop the office desk.

Col. Azazelenov read the translation of the inscription atop the box:


“Sounds more like King James English than Russian to me for some
reason,” Putin quipped.

Col. Azazelenov took the lid off the box and Putin peered inside…

“That just looks like another inscription written at the bottom of the box,”
Putin stated.

“It is another inscription written at the bottom of the box,” Col. Azazelenov

“Well even though I humbly and most modestly consider myself the most brilliant
intelligent person living on planet Earth today,” Putin blushed bashfully, “I can’t
read ancient Tibetan.”

“That’s all right,” Col. Azazelenov beamed like Paris Hilton in a porno video,
“I’ve got an expert in ancient Tibetan on the line who’s just cracked the inscription.”

As Col Azazelenov wrote down the translation, Putin was busy drooling
like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

“That’s it,” Col. Azazelenov looked extremely surprised.

The voice on the phone said Yes.

“Well, what does the inscription say?” Putin smiled contentedly
in a state of megalomaniac bliss.

“Well,” Col Azazelenov answered, “it says…”


The End.

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The Dark Box of Shamballa

December 31, 2007 at 3:56 pm (Mystery/horror, Politics, Short play, Short stories)

 The Dark Box of Shamballa

Dec. 19th 1944- Office of the Fuhrer, Berlin

Hitler: Ah, Col. Eckhart, I see you’ve finally returned from the SS
expedition to Tibet. I believe I sent you back in 1939 and you only just
got back to Berlin now?

Col. Eckhart: We took a wrong turn in the Himalayas. And it didn’t help
matters much that our guide also turned out to be afraid of heights.

Hitler: So did you find the Lost City of Shamballa where the Ascended
Masters reside?

Col. Eckhart: We found the Lost City of Shamballa but the Ascended
Masters weren’t residing there when we arrived. Possibly the rents are too
high. A lot of the buildings there seemed to be emblazoned with gold and precious

Hitler: Did you find the Dark Box of Shamballa- that box that contains in it all the
dark psychic energies of the universe? A box that whoever opens it will become 
Master of the Universe?

Col. Eckhart: We found the Box and brought it back to Berlin. Those brave
SS officers who helped carry it back are currently being treated for massive

Hitler: And have you opened the Box yet?

Col Eckhart: We seemed to be having some trouble opening it,
Mein Fuhrer.

Hitler: That Box must be opened. If we can open it, this will ensure that I’ll
win the War.

63 years later on Dec. 19th, 2007, Russian President Vladimir Putin
is sitting in his office in the Kremlin. The phone rings.

Putin (picking up the phone): Yes?

Voice on other end: Mr. President, this is Col. Azazelenov of the FSB.
My men have been going through a warehouse of old Soviet Red Army archives
containing stuff that was found in the Soviet Red Army’s search of Hitler’s Bunker
in Berlin back in May, 1945.
Anyways we found an old box earlier this year which our expert on ancient
languages said appeared to be written in ancient Tibetan insciptions.
We’ve had the darndest time trying to open the thing. And this morning we
finally succeeded. Mr. President, I think you should take a look at what’s inside.

To be continued.

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