The Magic Tile

Good evening, friends of the United Nations. This is your hope to welcome you through the portals of the speaking door. For another delightfully horrible half hour with a delicious assortment of obnoxious people. First, I just have no formal dinner that was given by the Society for the Presentation of People, And to raise money to buy a blood bag for toothless vampires.

All the gay girls in town were there. As the first chorus they said, an ectoprasum salad with astral fleshy. But the best part of evening was the entertainment. They had a ballet of chanting skeletons during a rumper to the feet of their own bones.

It made everybody grin from ear to ear. Wouldn't you have liked to have been there? Mmm. Ha ha ha ha ha. Tonight's inner sanctum mystery, the magic tile, was written by Milton Lewis. And stars, Mercedes McCambridge, in the role of Catherine, with Edward Sloan as Mark.

Well, all right, friend. Let's get dreadful. Now remember, don't scream back at the radio. It won't be any good. No, sir. Then let them that we hear Captain Brian tell us this story in her own words.

A flash of lightning like a giant white electric light lit up this guy that night as I went up the walk. And Brian Manchin looked like this huge jingled tomb standing there on the hill.

Cower is too smooth to sell it in arms, drenching up into the glass-selling sky. So, a moment I wanted to run, to run as far and as fast as I could from the top when I was born.

And I wish now that I had, as much as I did it, I would come back. Not because I lived there, not because I wanted to be there, but because in this house I should find out if I was going to live.