Dead Man's Vengeance

This is the man in black. I'm very happy to step over from the town of St. John's suspense, stand in for my fellow scare master of ceremonies, he halloy. Mr. Lorry had to attend a special conclave of the International Association of Witches, Goons and Creeps, of which he is a charter member.

Though I am here in his place, opening the doors of the Mystery Playhouse, the Nice Mystery Playhouse has been fortunate enough to secure the services of that light-hearted rack on terra, murder, horror, and the supernatural, the laughing boy of the inner sanctum, Raymond.

Raymond's been telling about the horrible things that happened to other people for a long time now, and getting a huge bang out of it. But a night that people saw terps, and they find himself on the receiving end, which seems like poetic justice is deep.

I think it might prove interesting to find out how Raymond's much-vaunted sense of humor survives the acid ten. So, follow me to the home, the squeaking door, little house of a inner sanctum. Good evening, friends. This is your host, Flamin'.

Welcome to the squeaking door, the inner sanctum. For, as of you who read in to find out why our thoughts squeak so much, I guess now I have good times and I have to explain that the hinges are rusty with dry blood.

Who that door passed the most beautiful? Good. Won't you come in? That'll be good. Are you ready? You can do it with your mouth closed. Oh, you don't need dark old houses or murky graveyards to feel the chilly presence of being from the other world.

Last week, just after I completed my broadcast, I was called to the telephone. And I picked up a receiver I heard. Yes, why do I? That's why he wears it. This is familiar, but I can't quite place it.