M&J Audio Theater presents Chet Chetters Tales from the Morgue. Well now, come in stranger of the night. Have a seat, won't you? There. I am Chet Chetter, the Morgue Attendant and resident storyteller. Yes. Today, I have a story about a 60s radical named Gail Headrush Taylor. You see, back in the days of the Vietnam War, Mr. Taylor was a follower of an underground theologian called Professor Troubadour. And he spoke at many anti-war protests. Hey, dig it man. I just want to say that this war is friggin' insane, man. And our involvement in Vietnam should end right friggin' now. Yeah, man. Control, peace and tranquility are the answer to our problems, man. Hey, not war and death. Those square heads say that the impending threat of communism is why we're dying out there. Yeah, groove on that for a while, man. I say that the commies should take some magic mushrooms, man. Yeah, that's the doorway to control, peace and tranquility. Yeah. And the ultimate goal is spiritual unity, man. We're all going to a high ground, man. I'll meet you there, man. Burn your trap cards, dudes. Dig it. Prove yourselves, man. Stand up and be proud, man. Well, because of Mr. Taylor's gaining popularity, the government considered him a legitimate threat to their interests. And, with no regards to his civil rights, they captured Mr. Taylor and shipped him off to the escalating war in Vietnam. What a drag, man. They don't understand what I'm trying to say. My only friend, the end of our different lives, the end of everything that stands, the end of our sentient lives. I do not want any delays, understand, corporal? I want 50 packs of cigarettes, 20 cases of beer, and 50 bags of pretzels delivered to the pre-determined coordinates by all 800 hours, or you'll find your head floating in a clean toilet bowl, do you understand, corporal? Yes, sir. First thing in the morning, sir. Hey, who's the big blowhard, man? Oh, man, that's the serge, dude. Hey, you want to give him some distance, man. He eats cherries like you for breakfast, dude. Oh, yeah, well, thanks for the advice, man. Hey, am I going to sleep in this big building, man? No, no, just for the night, man. And tomorrow it's off to the jungle at 0600. Kiss your butt goodbye tonight, man. Hey, hey, butt brain, got a new cherry for you, man. Hey, hey, like your head, right? Have an apple. It's usually not this nice to cherries, man. Hey, hey, hey, Gale, come here, man, or someone will want you to leave. Hey, hey, Head Rush, this is private college. Hi, Head Rush. Goodness, I don't know what you're doing here, because I've read all about you and you're a pacifist. You don't belong in the NOM. Yeah, yeah, well, I've been a naughty boy, man. I started a few riots and I burned that nice invitation they gave me to the war. I guess they're sending me here to set an example to anyone else that might dispute their square-headed foreign policy. Well, I am in 100% agreement with you, Head Rush. You see, I'm a pacifist too, and, well, I'm a wimp, and I don't belong in the NOM. Could we be friends? Oh, man, there's always room for another pacifist, dude. Oh, good. Hey, and don't call yourself a wimp just because everybody else does, man. I don't call myself a dopehead. I experiment in wild herbs, man. Oh, goodness. I just can't hold us back any longer. What, Head? Head Rush, I'm afraid to die. I don't want to die. Help me, Head Rush. Hey, hey, hey, mellow out, man. Hey, I've got that face covered, dude, man. Hey, when we get some free time, I'll tell you about Professor Troubadour's teachings, man. I've patterned my life from that guy, man. Professor Troubadour, I can't believe people follow him so blindly. He's just an old hermit. I hear to that long-haired coot, one of them squad on the mountain top gurus, and the self-healing and all that mumbo jumbo. Oh, man, what a drag. So uneducated, man. Hey, you just stop right there, man. Professor Troubadour is a respected theologian, man. This guy's personally credited for advancing the way our society looks at mind control, man, and spirituality, man. He shed light on the unexplainable. Yeah, when pigs fly. Oh, well, I sense skepticism. I believe you, Head Rush, and I'll take any advice you have to give. All right, man, so listen up. Everybody else who's got a brain, control, peace, and tranquility, man, those three things, you got those three things, ain't nothing could hurt you. Yeah, I believe you. I believe you, Head Rush. I believe in it so much. Oh, my God. All right, you lack-for-life slackers. Big Daddy's gonna lay down the law. Leave time is at 0600, and that's when you boys become men or you wind up goat fodder. Now, lights out and end those boxed PDQs. Oh, I gotta go to bed now. Man, that dude could use a big fat joint, man. Gosh, I hope he doesn't hurt us. I really do. Early the next morning, the platoon was en route to an unrelenting jungle near the border. Oh, go ahead, Rush, please. Tell me what Professor Troubadour says about death. Oh, man, there is no death, dude. It's only a transition to a higher plane of existence, man. But only if you believe, dude. Yeah. Only then can you make it. I'm afraid to ask this, but what if you don't believe hard enough? Oh, man, it's really uncool, dude. Your soul stays in your body and it rots with you. Oh, I've gotta believe harder. And tell me, is there a God? Oh, yeah. We'll all become God, man. Total harmonious unity, man. Like all parts of a great big machine. Yeah. Wow. Well, that's neat, though. Hey, you will. Don't believe a word this long-haired freak says. What? He's an outcast. He doesn't belong in the NOM. And personally, I think Charlie's gonna get you. Good talk. Good talk. Scout, Surgs, we need some assistance here and over. Copy, Red 5. You got to go ahead. Squad 6, we're in trouble. We're in trouble, sir. We're in trouble. All right, we're in trouble. Go ahead, sir. Go ahead. Great fun, Red 5. No one goes down in flames without my permission. What are your coordinates? Respond, damn it! One, all squads, coordinates. Two, five, seven, eight. One, two, five, seven, eight. Two, five, seven, eight. Two, five, seven, eight. I copy that, Red 5. Are you able to respond? I think they went down, Sarge. Holy black and blue-burning bunch of blazing. Curse this ungodly war to red-hot hell in a handbag. Hey, Sarge. This is not supposed to happen. Hey, Sarge. You're going to give yourself a cracked skull hitting your head on that dash, man. Sarge, that wasn't the shipment we had coming in, was it? Affirmative, Dingleberry. Fifty packs of butts, all that imported beer, all those pretzels. Shots of Hades. I am boo-coo unamused by this situation. The Sarge sure does have low priorities, doesn't he, Headbrush? Yeah, and I kind of wonder if the American taxpayers pay for all that stuff, man. All right. But I wouldn't ask the Sarge. Let's look alive, ladies. We're about to land this bird in its qualum of charlies down there. This is the acid test, girls. Here we go. Are you ready to live or die? You bet I am. Man, I got a TB8 symptom, man. I can't handle this wet stuff, man. I'm going to try. I'm going to catch malaria. I'm so afraid. I'm as cold as a fat monkey's butt, man. So take it, too. All right, you scrawny little daisy-picking book readers, listen up. I want to be dug in by sundown. We're expecting Charlie's first wave in 24 hours. Now get to work. I want to see mud and sweat fly, girls. Yes, sir. Here, Headbrush, take a shovel. Start digging. Yeah, that's about all I do around here, man. Wow. Hey, Collins, what are you looking at with those panocks, man? I think I see a Vietnamese gentleman on top of that hill over there. Oh, oh, yeah, yeah. Yeah, he could just be an innocent villager, though, man. Yeah, at least in the States you could tell the animals, man. They always wore suits. All right, mamas, boys, give those shovels a rest. Okay, which one of you PFC wannabes want to earn some brownie points or be a hero? Hey, not me, man. I need a volunteer to go into that hot spot and retrieve those supplies that went down. No, not me. No, I can't. I can't do it. Well, I could not believe my ears. What a sorry excuse for a human being you Mongols are. Low lives, every last one of you. I'd be ashamed to pee in the same trench with a bunch of you. Somebody's going to have to go in there and make like a dog on fire and retrieve our supplies. I'm sure we all want what we got coming to us now, don't we? Goodness, Head Rush, that innocent villager has an M16 pointed at us. Oh, man. Hey, hey, hey, dudes, man. Hey, Charlie, Charlie's in the light, man. Charlie's in the light. What the hell? Hey, there he is. Take this, you rats. Cease fire! Cease fire! I said cease fire when I give an order. I want you to stop on a dime. Do you understand? Yeah, no need firing at a dead sniper, huh, Sarge? Do not speak without permission. You beat Nick, I'll eat your guts out. Okay, you. Huh? Me, man? Yeah, you, man. You didn't fire, you trippy hippie freak. You mean to tell me you don't want to defend your own men? I'm a conscientious objector, man. I won't fire a shot at another human being. Oh, well, is that right? Well, Mr. Anti-War protest smoke don't till your brains runs out your nose. Seeing that you won't fight for Uncle Sam, maybe there's another way you can serve your country. Oh, and what would that be, man? Congratulations, Google-Ise. You've just volunteered yourself to retrieve our supplies. Oh, yeah. Well, I guess you think I'm afraid to die, man. Well, death is going to be like a cool autumn breeze to me, man. But I'm not risking it for a few lousy butts and some flat beer, man. You left out those pretzels, fuzzball. I've been saving my taste buds for those New York soft pretzels. And I do not intend to be disappointed. Well, that's just too bad, man. The gooks have probably ate those pretzels by now anyway. Now, I want you to reconsider this matter for a moment, soldier. You might stand a chance for Charlie. You stay here, and we'll sure as hell tear you anew. Oh, good lord. And I don't think that death by machine gun fire is going to be anything like a cool autumn breeze, you long-haired commie sympathizer. Head Rush, please do as I say. They shot private Briggs for urinating in the foxholes. They'll shoot you. Well, what do you say, lanky boy? Do I have myself a volunteer? Well, I guess I can't argue with lead. Hey, Sarge, I'd like to volunteer for this mission. After given the location of the downed helicopter, Mr. Taylor began his trek deep into enemy territory. Using a compass for direction, he continued his journey through the marshy terrain. Oh, man. What the hell am I doing out here, man? What is this crap? I should be in a monastery eating bean pies, man. Suddenly, gunshots were heard. He was under attack. With all his strength, Mr. Taylor dashed forward. Oh, man. Oh. Amazing. He successfully dodged the bullets, but not for long. An A-2 Mapper, one of the biggest and most lethal bullets used in wartime, tore through his right arm, severing the limb from his body. Oh, man. My arm's ripped off, man. Okay. I can handle it, man. I can heal myself, man. This time, you used what Professor Troubadour taught me, man. Control. Peace. Tranquility. Control. Peace. Tranquility. Control. Peace. Tranquility. The immense pain in his bloody nub quickly subsided. He continued to run. Soon, the chopper was in sight. But before he could reach his destination, he snagged a booby trap, causing a large wooden stake to plunge through his right leg. Oh, man. Oh, God, man. I can take it, man. I can friggin' take it, man. Control. Peace. Tranquility. Control. Peace. With his pain once again under control, he pulled the jagged wooden stake out of his leg and arrived at the chopper. Okay. Here it is, man. Cigarettes. And a beer of pretzels. I can't believe I'm becoming amputee for this crap, man. Mr. Taylor began to repeat the three words of self-healing as he dashed back in the direction from which he came, running faster than he had ever ran in his life. The sack of goods was held firmly in his good hand as he dodged a massive array of bullets, many of which struck his body. By the time Mr. Taylor arrived at the perimeter, he looked like a bloody rag doll. But he had the goods. Here's your friggin' death sticks, man. And here's your liver-rotten beer, man. And here's your friggin' munch to your died pretzels, man. I hope you choke on them. Hey, Sarge, man. Hedrush looks like a walking roadkill, man. His arm is cut off. And look at the gash in that leg. I know. I know. It's Professor Troubadour, isn't it? Yeah, that's right, man. Professor Troubadour's consciousness control technique, man. It works to perfection. I feel no pain at all, man. What the hot burning hell did you say, soldier? You don't feel no pain at all in the condition you're in? I know. I know. It's control, pace, and tranquility. Yeah, Collins has got the idea. Yeah, Sarge, I believe I have the powers of undistractable concentration. Therefore, I don't feel a twitch. Oh, yeah. So, are we starting to believe a little bit now? I'll tell you one thing. I'm a believer for sure, no doubt. Well, I sure seven-legged, well-believed soldier. My eyes are bugged out so much, I believe they're gonna pop out of my skull. Anything that can stand straight up in there like you're doing and not twitch at all after Charlie's blown you plum to bits, well, he's gotta have something going for him. Oh, hallelujah, man. I made some progress. Oh, I didn't lose my arm for nothing. Private Collins, front and center. Yes, Sergeant, yes. Anything. Just don't hurt me. Collins, you've been believing in this Professor Troubadour stuff the whole time. Yeah. I got an experiment I want to try. If this works, this could be quite a weapon of defense. Oh, no. All right, Collins, you recite those three words and I'm gonna shoot you in the face. Oh, no, Sarge. No. Hey, Sarge, no, Sarge. Hey, Sarge, don't do it, man. Hey, Sarge, Sarge, it takes more than just reciting those words, man. He really needs to study the book first, man. Oh, oh, well, I see. Thank you, Private Headbrush, you've saved me from an embarrassing moment. At ease, Private Collins. Gooks, gooks, how the hell? He's jumping in the line. Look, look, there's jumping in the line. Go forward. After exchanging fire with the enemy, the platoon ran into the jungle to engage in battle. Not wanting to stay alone, Mr. Taylor followed them like a lost puppy. Hey, hey, wait for me, guys. Hey, wait up. Oh, God. I can barely walk anymore, man. Oh, I'm glad that shooting is over with, man. I don't think I can take anymore of that crap. Hey, hey, guys, man. Hey, slow down, man. Hey, I got a shattered leg, man. Hey, slow down, man. Come on, man, you slowpoke. Come on, hop on that good leg, man. Hey, yeah, why don't you say some of them Professor Troubadour's words and fix your own leg? Oh, man, they've got no appreciation, man. I get shot up like some sort of dummy, man, and then they... Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh, oh, man. I stepped into a booby trap, man. I'm all... I'm stuck on a wall of wooden spikes, man. I can handle it, man. Control, peace and tranquility, man. Control, peace and tranquility. Hey, hey, guys, help me, man. Help me, man. I'm stuck on a trap, man. Help! Help! Hey, hey, look, man. Headbrush has strung the trap, man, look. Oh, good, they're coming, man. Oh, oh, oh, God, man, I'm glad you guys are here, man. Headbrush. Hey, see if you can pull me off this trap, man. God, God, Headbrush stepped into a King Viper impelment trap, man. Man, there's no doubt that is the worst trap those gooks make. Man, I need the strange part. These are some plumb voodoo stuff. How in the world can he still be alive? It's not voodoo. I think I know what it is, though. We are witnessing an extension of Professor Troubadour's mind control techniques. You see, I think that Headbrush has taken it to such a degree that, well, that he's kept himself alive. Yeah, okay, man, school's over, man. You got it right, man. Now pull me off these spikes, man. I don't think I can hang on much longer. I think I'm gonna die, man. I don't want to die like this, man. Oh, no, sir. Flag on that play. You ain't talking to me, I ain't touching you. You got a spike going right through your eyeball there. You're some sort of zombie. Yeah, man. Hey, Headbrush, I mean, you're a decent dude and all that, man. But I ain't touching you with a ten-foot pole, man. Oh, come on, man. Somebody, man. Control, I deserve a decent burial, man. Peace. I mean, at least pull me off the spikes, man. Tranquility. After all, man, I risked my life to get that crap for you, man, that party stuff, the cigarettes and all that, man. I mean, you can't leave me up here, man. I can't hang on for long, man. This Drupalor stuff don't work that well, man. It didn't work that well. What? Headbrush. Come on. Collins, man. Collins. Oh, no. You're about the only friend I've got, man. Oh, I don't know. Come on, you can do it, man. Oh, no, I don't know. You can pull me off this thing, man. I just don't know. Don't let me die this way, man. Put me in a body bag. Send me back to the States so I can get a decent burial, man. I'm sorry, Headbrush, but I just can't. I can't stand the sight of blood. And if any of your blood ever touched me, I would... I think I would faint. I'm sorry, Headbrush. No, man. Yeah, we gotta go, Headbrush, man. I'm sorry, man, but we really gotta go, man. No, man. The Sards will eat our breakfast, man, if we don't catch up, man. No, man, don't leave, man. Goodbye, man. No, come back, man. I'm really sorry, man. Yeah, I'm outta here. No, come back, guys. See ya, Headbrush. No. Collins. God, man. Come back! Control! Peace! Tranquillity! Oh, no! Over a day passed, and the plight of Mr. Taylor was the last thing on the soldiers' minds. You see, the perimeter was being overrun by the Viet Cong. They were outnumbered three to one. There was no escape, for they came from all directions. The platoon was totally surrounded. Oh, God. We're all dead. I mean it, man. We're dead this time. There's nothing to do but hide. I'm gonna play dead in the foxhole. Yeah, that's not a bad idea, man. Let's play possum, man. Hey, founders! Founders, look over there! Over there! Into the forest, to the right! There's some kind of bright light! Bright light. And there's angels singing. Walk into the light, man. Oh, God. It's the only way out. Come on, move your worthless butts, man. Hey, it's Headbrush, man. Don't question it. Don't question anything. Just run. Run into the light. Hey, there's no bullets in the light. I'm here to save your worthless lives, man. Now walk into the light or die, man. The soldiers exited the battlefield in perfect safety. They mysteriously found themselves in a vacant field. Mr. Taylor hovered above them in a ghostly apparition. I want you all to consider the fact that I just saved you from certain death, man. And I got ripped nearly half to shreds, giving you cigarettes and beer, man. Yeah, and those good pretzels, too, man. Shut up, man! I'm the apparition here. I'm trying to make a point. You put all those things I've done for you, man, and you put them together and you get bitter revenge. You see, another one of Professor Troubadour's philosophies is revenge through guilt. And man, am I going to lay it on you thick? You see, I'm in this higher plane of existence now, and I'm able to know that every one of you guys has got a conscience. Now, all you have to do is think about the fact that I saved your lives right now. And think of the way you treated me before. And the fact that you left my body to die out there without a decent burial like I requested. Those things will give you the burden of guilt to carry for the rest of your life, man. And that's a heavy, big burden, man. You see, I preach to spiritual unity, man. And that can never happen to you dudes until you realize that everybody is important. We're all like parts of a great machine, man. You might think about that next time someone needs your help. But I doubt that you will. That's going to be bad for you, man. Well, goodbye. I'm going to go converge with the universe now, man. Whoa, man. I kind of feel like a jerk now. He gave us a big pill to swallow. Indeed it was the burden of guilt that stayed with the soldiers for the remainder of their lives. They never forgot the way they treated Mr. Taylor. And they were forever haunted by the words he spoke to them that day. It was most assuredly a bitter pill to swallow. Well, that's all I have for you today. But please return for another spine-chilling pill, won't you? Yes. Until next time, pleasant dreams. You have just heard Chet Chetters' Tales from the Morgue. Today's installment, The Bitter Pill. A production by M&J Audio Theatre.
