M&J Audio Theater presents Chet Chetters Tales from the Morgue. Chet Chetters Tales Chet Chetters Tales Mr. Weatherman What does the weatherman say today? Will it be warm with skies of grey? Will it be hot or cold or fair? Oh, what does the weatherman, weatherman, weatherman, What does the weatherman say? And good morning to you. I'm CJ Carlson with your weekday weather outlook and the news is quite good for most of the country today. That cool front we received a few days ago from Canada is keeping things comfortable and nice and cool. Looks like we'll continue on that path for at least another three days. Those of you, um, excuse me, I have a bit of cotton mouth. Those of you in the Midwest may want to look, I, um, sorry, sorry folks. Um, in the Midwest we're looking at a upper level disturbance. Uh, can we go to a commercial please? Go to a commercial. CJ, what's the problem? You're sweating like a sumo wrestler down there. I know, I know, I'm burning up. Um, Jim, I don't think I can go on. Can you get Stu to wrap up for me please? Stu, we need you on the floor, PDQ. Betty, take a look at CJ, will you? Okay. What's the matter, sweetheart? You're soaking wet. I'm on fire, Betty. Well, let me feel your forehead. Ow! Ooh! What's the matter? What's the matter? I, I, I burned my hand. Oh, come on now, Betty. No, no, I'm serious. Your forehead felt like a hot ironed skillet. What? Look at my fingers. Oh, oh my God. Oh God, I, I don't like this. I don't like this. No, no, no, calm down, honey. Now let's get in my car and I'll run you down to the clinic. No, no, downtown's too far away. I'm going home. It's closer. I'll, I'll drive myself, Betty. What are you going to do, CJ? I don't know. I don't know, Betty. Have any help me? I, I don't know. Hot, hot, hot. Oh God, I'm hot. Get a grip, CJ. Take a chill pill. That's a, that's a good one. Oh, why didn't I get this air conditioner fixed? Oh my, windows are fogging up. Inside the car. I'm, I'm radiating heat. Oh, this isn't right. Oh, fever's one thing. When you messed up glass, boy, you're putting it out. What's that? What's that putrid stench? It's like burning rubber. Oh, no. My hands. My hands are melting the steering wheel. No, no, I don't want to burn up. No. My hands are stuck to the wheel. I can't pull them loose. Ah, ah, ah. Get out of the way. I'm going to hit that street lamp. Ah. I got your bath ready, Paul. Nice and tippy, just like you like it. Well, I like it hot too on occasion, Ma. Why don't you join me in the tub and we'll have us a stink bath. Oh, Lord, I'm afraid your old heart just couldn't take it. Oh, now it'd take a heap of your loving to kill me, old girl. Oh. Oh, my. Oh, really. Well, get it, Paul. There's someone at the door. Well, yeah, okay. I guess I better answer quick. Might be opportunity. Sure took its time to come a-calling. Eh? Well, howdy-do, sir. Oh, thank God you're home, sir. My name is CJ. I've had an accident. I need help, could you please help me, mister, please? You're jumping, Jiminy, you are a mess, young fella. Come in, come in. It feels like a scorcher out there. That's me, mister, that's me, you feel. What's that? I'm burning up. Who is it, Paul? It's some young fella, ma. It appears you had him a little old mishap. Stars, it's the Channel 27 weatherman. Yes, ma'am. Eh? There goes that dead burn smoke alarm again, ma. Did you burn the hominy grid? No. But look, mister, the shirt's on fire. The shirt's on fire. Oh, my God, my God. Now, don't panic, mister, drop and roll, that's the ticket. The fire's spreading, Paul. Help him get that shirt off. Let me give you a hand there, mister. Yo! Glory be to gracious, your fever struck something awful. I don't think it's fever, mister, I don't know what it is. Get him to the bathroom, Paul. Good thinking, old girl. Come on, mister, I got a bath full of water all drawn up for you. A bath, yes, thank you, thank you. And don't mention it now. And you get the rest of them clothes off, young'un. You're starting to smolder again. Oh, the carpet's on fire. Well, toss some baking soda on it, Paul, and call the fire department. Oh, God, what's happening to me? Well, we'll study on that later, young fella. Right now, you get in that tub. Yee-haw! Dumbledumble, toile and trouble, by a bird and all, miss Dumbled. Baby bird, sizzle, fry, incinerate, boil, and you'll be fine. I'll be fine. Baby bird, sizzle, fry, incinerate, boil, melt, hot, hot like the sun. Burn hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, so hot, so hot. Oh, oh, oh, God, where am I? I'm being boiled alive. Help, help! Now, now, simmer down there, young fella. Simmer down. That's kind of funny, isn't it? Oh, it's you. Where am I? You're in my backyard swimming pool. Of course, with the heat you're putting out, it's more like one of them there jacuzzi baths now. Yeah, yeah, I feel like a Maine lobster. Where'd you get that fire suit? I borrowed it from the firemen. It's about the only ways I can get anywhere near you. You're really cooking now, young fella. I know. You kind of flanged out after that bad water hit you. Yeah. Sounded like a red hot skillet being dumped in the tub. Firemen helped move you out to the pool. Elseways, you might have burned the house down. Oh, well, I'm sorry I've been in so much trouble. Not at all. You may have saved me from total incineration, though. Eh? I'm still hot as hell, but this water seems to be controlling it slightly. Well, sir, I've been studying on your little delimitare, young fella. You have? And I'll be sworn to gracious if it ain't a sure enough poser. Yeah, well. Now, I done ruled out that spontaneous human cum busting, you see. Yeah. Because I hear that a fella just goes up like flash paper when that happens. Yes, I know. I took the liberty of calling the Institute of Unexplained Phenomenon. Just up a road there. They observed me a couple of years back, because my teeth were glowing in the dark. Turned out it was some sort of radioactive toothpaste they was using on us in the service. The Institute of Unexplained Phenomenon? Yeah, sure, that's what they call it. Oh, here comes that head scientist right now. Oh. Evening, Professor Hadcliff. Hello, Mr. Kennel. You seem to be battling old age with quite some vigor today. Well, I'm tolerable, sir, thank you. Mr. Carlson, I must tell you I'm a great fan of yours. Well. I set my outdoor activities by all of your weather reports. Well, thank you. You can just call me CJ. Well, if you'll forgive me, I cannot shake your hand, but we must get straight down to business, Mr. Carlson. Okay. I would like to have you come down to the Institute for some observation, with your permission, of course. Well, how in the world would you get me down there? I'm kind of hot to the touch. Just leave it up to me, Mr. Carlson. Yeah. We're going to have some assistance wrap you up in asbestos blankets. Then you will be transported to our lab in our special flame-retardant van. Well, at this point I'll try anything. Okay, bring out the asbestos blanket. Good afternoon, folks. Kenzie here with Channel 27's roving eye on the news. I'm standing outside of the city's Institute of Unexplained Phenomenon, where CJ Carlson, Channel 27's even-tippered weatherman, is being quarantined for close observations. So far, the only information I've been able to obtain is that our chipper meteorologist is suffering from a baffling disorder that is causing his body temperature to rise at an alarming rate. Yikes. The busy brains at the lab are tight-lipped about their research at this point, but I can tell you I see a lot of men dressed in flame-retardant suits walking around. CJ, old buddy, find yourself a shade tree, pal. The forecast for our cyclone-spotting amigo, hot and getting hotter. You can bet your firstborn, this roving eye guy, will continue to spy on this sizzling situation. But for right now, we can only speculate on the bubbling activity simmering within these Institute walls. So you're keeping the poor feller in an ice box, Mr. Heightcliff? Actually, it is a large refrigeration unit used to neutralize volatile materials. Well, sakes, you don't want to neutralize a man, do you? Well, actually, the idea is to control his temperature progression. Eh? The unit can reach a sub-zero level of minus 2,000 degrees centigrade. Whoa, Nelly. Well, I bound that coolie more something. Well, that is the intention. Here we are. We're standing in front of it right now. Eh? He's in there? Oh, no. Feels hotter than a Ben Franklin stove stuffed full of quarter wood. Well, right now, it's at 200 degrees Fahrenheit, and it's rising steadily, I'm afraid. Burn it? We can communicate with him through this transmitter, but just a few words. We'd better let him rest. All right, sir. Mr. Carlson, you have a visitor. Eh, howdy there, young feller. Eh, chin up now. Don't lose your cool. Eh, dead burning, I should have said that. Well, thanks for the kind work, Paul Kettle. Say, anybody want to bake a cake? Toss a rough roast in here, and I'll bake us dinner. Well, at least Wazey's got his sense of humor. That's good. Mr. Hightcliff? Yes, what is it? I'm so sorry, sir. Professor Snitty's here. Oh, good. I tried to call security, but he got in before I could do so, sir. Hightcliff? Yes? As a certified member of the scientific community, I demand to know the details of your research on the Carlson project. Snitty, you are stupidity incarnate. What? I'll share my findings with you the day you reveal the location of your secret laboratory, where you conduct your unethical experiments. Oh, you're insane. I don't know what you're talking about. And at least I'm not the one keeping a man in a meat freezer. Wait till the tabloids get a load of that. Stop soiling my air with your presence, Snitty. Go play with your mutations. Don't be a blubbering fool, Hightcliff. This man is beyond help. You're staring right into the face of a modern miracle, perhaps the greatest scientific find since the dawn of time. C.J. Carlson is becoming a source of pure energy. He is a human being, which is more than I can say for present company. Perhaps he's a gift from a higher power, Hightcliff. Have you considered that? The answer to the world's energy needs. Imagine the possibilities. Say, guys, I can hear what you're saying in there. If I have a choice in this matter, I'd rather go back to being a weatherman with a dog in a mortgage. Ah, security. Let's escort Mr. Snitty out of the building, please. Unhand me, you neanderthals. Oh, you haven't heard the last of me, Hightcliff. What are you going to do when he gets too hot to contain? I have a way to harness the heat that he's radiating. You can't ignore me forever, Hightcliff. Late that night, the persistent Professor Snit crept into the laboratory with two assistants and Chloroform, the security guard. Dressed in heat-resistant suits, they kidnapped Mr. Carlson, who was burning with white-hot intensity, and transferred him into their own heavily insulated bath. Hightcliff is such a fool. He would actually sacrifice the greatest scientific find in this century for the life of a worthless human being, but now we have him. Well, we must hurry, Snitty. The man's temperature is rising quickly. The maximum heat this band can hold is 2,000 degrees, and he will surpass that soon. Yes, only a few minutes to go. We're almost to the lab. Just so. And then we will pave the road to great fortune. What is this? Oh, no, police. And look, Hightcliff is with them. They must have tracked us down using a thermal detector. Well, I'm not giving in without a fight. Those idiots, they're using weapons. They're trying to blow out the tires. Snitty, this is Hightcliff. Boy, you'll turn it now, boy. We have the road blocked off in two miles. Stop or be forced to stop. Never, Hightcliff. If I can't have this, then no one will take it. Do you hear? No one. You men stay here. That pointy-headed fool, he's turned the van over. I'll kill him if he's not dead already. Snitty, are you conscious, you idiot? Oh, my arm. Oh, leave me be, Hightcliff. Can't you tell that I am injured? That is nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you if Mr. Carlson is injured. This is kidnapping. You will go to prison for this. Where is Carlson? The back door of the van is open. He must have fallen out. Look by the road. There's a hole in the ground. Smoke is rising from it. It's Carlson. He's burning a hole in the earth. How hot does he become? 4000 degrees? Possibly even more? You pretentious fool. You thought you could contain him in a freezer. And you were going to use him for financial gain. Pipe down both of you. None of that matters now. He's burning a hole in the earth. The crevice is growing as we speak. What can possibly stop him now? This is no longer a matter of one man's life. Now the whole world is at stake. He must be stopped. For the sake of the human race. For the sake of the planet earth. But how? How? Good evening folks or should I say goodbye? Kyle McKenzie here for Channel 27 News. Standing next to a large crevice in the earth. An ever deepening hole that is causing widespread panic throughout the city as earthquakes, tidal waves and massive flooding wreck destructive havoc upon the area. The source of all this chaos, CJ Carlson the human fireball. A man that scientists say has surpassed the heat of the sun. Whoa CJ. We knew you wanted to be a star but this is ridiculous. As Carlson reaches the earth's core he forecasted the total annihilation of mankind. Worldwide destruction. Volcanic eruptions. The continent will fall into the sea. The polar ice caps will melt. The earth will break from its axis and go spinning into the sun. And we have a weatherman to blame for all this. Well there's irony if there's somewhere folks but I'm too stricken with terror to find it. And if too we meet in the afterlife this is Kyle McKenzie saying. Fire! I'm burning into the ground. Burning deeper and deeper into the earth. Into the ground. I'm burning into the ground. I'm burning. I'm burning into the earth. I'm burning. Lieutenant Carlson, Lieutenant Carlson, awaken Lieutenant Carlson. What? Who said that? You have succeeded in your mission Lieutenant Carlson. You have achieved total solar penetration. Congratulations. What? I've achieved total solar penetration. Where am I? CJ! This is Earthbase Tri Delta. Can you respond Lieutenant Carlson? Um, yeah. Yeah, I hear you. Hot dog! You made it Lieutenant! How do you feel? I feel a little blustered I guess and very confused. Refresh my memory please. What am I doing here? What did he say? Hey CJ old buddy, don't tell me you slipped through the greatest portal achievement in scientific history. Yeah, yeah I'm afraid to say I did just that I think. Look, you are Lieutenant Carlson. You have bought a highly specialized Alpha Rocket. You are on a government controlled mission to enter the sun and pass through the other side unharmed and you have done it man. I passed through the sun? Oh God, yes. The solar penetration project of course. Hey, I think the old boy is seeing daylight now. I must have blacked out half way through the penetration. I had a dream guys. I was burning, you know not incinerating but burning giving off this incredible heat. Well it's not surprising you blacked out. That ship is heavily insulated but still the heat must have been very, very, very intense. Yeah, it's no wonder I dreamed I was burning. You were in my dream Commander Hydecliff. You too Kyle. Hey, you was towards the atodo there too old buddy. Okay, okay. Look fellas, this has been a blast but I want my mommy earth. Can I come home now? Indeed you can Lieutenant. Yeah. Let us check your vital signs first. Okay. Blood pressure normal? Yes. Heart rate fine? Right. Body temperature? Oh no. What? No, this cannot be right. What is it Commander? What is it? What about my body temperature? I do not understand. There must be some kind of malfunction in the equipment. What is it Commander? Hey, hey get this old buddy. Says here your body temperature is 230 degrees and rising. 230? Oh my god. Computer, computer confirm. What is my body temperature? Body temperature 232 and rising. Oh dear god it's happening. Passing through the sun must have changed my molecular composition. The dream, it's coming true. You must return to earth at once CJ. We must quarantine you. Negative Commander, you can't quarantine me and believe me you don't want me down there. Commander, set the coordinates for solar re-penetration now. Affirmative Commander, solar re-penetration will be achieved in T minus 60 seconds. What in heavens are you doing Lieutenant Carlson? I'm going back into the sun Commander. I belong there. Negative Lieutenant, the ship will not make another pass through the sun. You'll be incinerated. Yes. You will not be able to reach the other side. I realize that Commander. Trust me, I'm going to feel right at home where I'm going. Solar penetration in T minus 15 seconds. Hey get a hold of yourself old buddy, we'll take care of you. Come on home. It's no use fellas. My mother used to say if you can't stand the heat get out of the kitchen. Well I can stand the heat and I'm going into the biggest kitchen of them all and I'm going to cook. Oh boy am I going to cook. Solar penetration in T minus 10 seconds. Start cooking. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. The planets are greedy. Well, now, that was a scorching tale, was it not? Yes. A pity about poor Mr. Carlson. Why when I hear about someone in that position, it just burns me up. Yes, but still, he should have known better than to travel so close to the sun without a reliable sunblock lotion. Those wretched UV rays can cause quite a burn. Personally, I never venture from the morgue in the daylight hours. That is how I maintain this gray complexion so well. Now it is time for me to bid you adieu. I am going to call that air conditioner repairman once more. I'll tell him if he's not here in 30 minutes, then I'll be forced to make a personal appearance, and I'll be bringing some friends. And as for you, my friend, do return for another story, won't you? Until next time, pleasant dreams. You have just heard Chet Chetters' Tales from the Morgue. Today's installment, If You Can't Stand the Heat. The names and characters portrayed in this production are fictitious. Any similarities with actual people living or dead is purely coincidental. A production by Imigé, RTO, Theatres.
