(xx) Mysterious Skulkers

I'll again with radios, home folks, they can say, written by Paul Wright. Well sir, the evening meal has been over only a little while as our scene opens now.

And here in the living room of the small house halfway up in the next block we find Vic and Young Russell. The gentlemen face each other across the library table and a sharply competitive game of grummies in progress.

You've won two and I've won two. This is indeed an exciting moment. Hurry up. Crank out the tickets. You seem inclined to go to your doom precipitously. The quicker you get your tickets, the quicker you'll get beat.

I got a feeling that won't get beat. I admire a man of courage and spirit, but I question the wisdom of plunging in a reckless headlong and foolhardy manner into the disastrous abyss of disaster and defeat.

Oh, you only half finished your job again, Russell. Come on, crank out the tickets. As a young man, I learned a valuable lesson. Are you a scared gov? You're stalling. Water glass is left on the pantry shop every which way and dish towel on the floor.

Griting, Stady Penny. Come here and give us a kiss. Talking to Russell. I'm pretty busy here, Mom. Oh, you are? Are you? I've won two lummy games and so is gov, and we're just about to play off the tie.

I better make this clear, Mr. Blister. When I get an inclination to speak to my little 14-year-old boy, I'm pretty apt to go ahead and do it. Whether he's busy or not. I say you only half finished your job again.

You left the water glasses on the pantry shop every which way, and I found your dish towel on the linoleum beside the gas stove. I'll go pick it up. I picked it up. Always pick it up.