Switching Stations: Wilma Wants an Abortion

Warning: This post discusses adult themes in an admittedly childish way.

(Lights up. An Empty stage; enter Fred Flintstone)

Fred: When Wilma got pregnant, I worried. I wondered if we were ready for a kid so soon after Wilma’s ECT. I wondered if it wouldn’t be better to go to Frost Bite Falls for an abortion.

(Laugh Track)

Wilma: (off stage) Fred? Fred? Is that you?

Fred: Here, honey!

(Enter Wilma)

Wilma: Oh Fred! Why are you so late! (Wilma bursts into tears.)

(Laugh Track)

Fred: Gee honey, the boss kept me late.

Wilma: (sobs) I sometimes think I should have an abortion!

Fred: Oh honey; don’t talk like that. What would Betty think?

Wilma: Oh, who cares what Betty thinks! (sobs) She’s not under a
contract to have to have a baby!

(Laugh Track)

(The doorbell rings. Enter Mr. Ed)

Mr. Ed: I was just at a meetin’ wit da Mattel’s an deys wanna know if the kid’ll be baked by Christmas!

(Laugh Track)

Wilma: Who the fuck are you?

(Laugh Track)

Mr. Ed: (To Fred) You gotta live wid this?

(Laugh Track)

(Enter Betty Rubble)

Betty:  Hi Wilma? Fred? Who’s the Horse? Hubba, hubba!

Wilma:  Hi Betty. This horsey works for the Mattel’s!

Mr. Ed: (to Betty) Mr. Ed is my name an makin’ pretty ladies is my game!

Betty: Pleased t’ meetcha! I sure hope you folks can cash in with Bam-Bam!

(Laugh Track)

(Lights Out. We hear the voices of Batman and Robin)

Robin: Holy stegosaurus, Batman! Ya really think you smell trouble?

Batman: Think young friend: does a horse shit in a meadow?

(Lights up: Betty and Wilma are locked in a kiss

Robin: Tsk. I am so OVER gratuitous lesbianism; I mean the way the writers slip it into everything these days!

Batman: Oh, SPLACK!

Mr. Ed: Cool yer chops Batty boy!

Robin: (To Mr. Ed.)  And MUFF!

Mr. Ed: And tell lover bird to stop chirpin!

Batman: (Hands on hips) He’s NOT my lover!

Wilma: Oh, pish-posh!

Betty: That’s telling him, Wilma!

(Laugh Track)

(Enter Eva Gabor; she spots Mr. Ed and points with recognition)

Eva Gabor: I know you!

Batman: I bet you do, lady!

Eva Gabor: That’s precisely what I mean!

(Enter Eddy Albert)

Eddy Albert: What is you mean precisely?

Batman:  Precisely?

Eddy Albert: Precisely!

Eva Gabor: Why precisely do you ask, Olivah?

Betty: (To Wilma) Oh Wilma! Aren’t Heterosexuals the most boring! Let’s get outta here!

Wilma: I’m with you Betty! Let’s have an abortion!

Betty and Wilma in unison: Da-da da da de da! Charrrge it! (They exit)

Batman: Our work here is done, Robin.

Robin: Right, Batman! (They exit with a swish of their capes)

(Enter Fred Ziffel)

Fred Ziffel: Mr. Douglas! Arnold’s feelin’ mighty sick! I’d sure appreciate it if you’d come over and take a look at him!

Eddie Albert: I’m a lawyer, not a doctor.

Eva Gabor: You can help him make out his vill, dahling!

Eddie Albert: Oh, All Right! (Mr. Ziffel and Eva Gabor exit with Eddie Albert)

(Pause)

Fred Flintstone: (Looks at Mr. Ed and shrugs) I guess it’s time for me to take out the cat. (Fred Flintstone exits. Mr. Ed alone on the stage)

(Enter Wilber Post)

Wilber Post: There you are, Ed. I looked all over New York for you! I even called the police!

Mr. Ed: Well ya found me, Wilber. Ya got any of that hay left over from Thanksgiving?

Wilber Post: Sure Do!

(Wilbur post leads Mr. Ed off stage.  As the lights dim to black the laugh track builds to a roar)

An avatar that represents an alternate named the Narrator in front of street murals found on Valencia Street in San Francisco
Switching Stations

End

(c) Rob Goldstein 12/86 – 12/2017 All Graphics (c) Rob  Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

Life at the Bottom of the Sea

Mr. Toad, come to life, whisper
something dear; there’s a devil
on
the headboard, he

sways and strokes

his beard.

Digital abstract made by layering digital photographs made in virtual reality
There’s a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea

On a lump of the branch through the
bog of a brain in hole at the bottom

of the sea

Mr.Toad is lost

to

lost treasure.

The devil sez, “Do you recognize the World,
Mr. Toad?”

“No,” says Mr. Toad.

The devil sez, “Then you ain’t going nowhere.”

We sing the blues and get a bowl of oatmeal.

Life at the bottom of the sea means three hots
and a laxative.

Every so often a guard swims down to tease
us with air.

“Hey fag,” says the guard. “How’d you
like this bubbling up yer butt?”

We smile and speak of rock stars
and world politics.

Our lips shimmer with fear.

Rob Goldstein © 2017