Stanley Elkin - The Dick Gibson Show

Ladies and gentlemen, you don’t know what’s been going on here tonight! My panelists are unable to speak! This man has something to do with it. It’s a trick. Perhaps they’re hypnotized. I don’t know how he does it, he doesn’t touch them, he swings no pendulum, but something’s happened, something’s up! He’s after me too. (to Behr-Bleibtreau) Is that it?

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: I don’t see the bottle opener. Would you swing the lazy susan around this way, please? Perhaps it’s on your side of the tray. Oh, never mind. Here it is.

DICK GIBSON: Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t have a bottle opener. He’s not looking for one. There isn’t even any soda in his hand. I don’t know what his game is, but he’s giving you a false picture.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: No more turkey? I’ll take the corned beef. I’m asking for indigestion, I think, but it looks marvelous.

DICK GIBSON: Don’t believe him. He’s not asking for indigestion. He’s not eating!

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: The bread’s stale. Where’s the mustard? Would you pass me that plastic knife?

DICK GIBSON: The bread’s fresh! There’s already mustard on the sandwiches!

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: It’s rather warm in the studio. May I take off my jacket?

DICK GIBSON: He’s wearing a sweater.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Whoops, sorry. That was clumsy of me. I seem to have smeared some ketchup on my glasses while I was getting out of my jacket. Could you hand me one of those paper napkins?

DICK GIBSON: He’s still in his sweater. He doesn’t wear glasses. The napkins are right in front of him.

JACK PATTERSON: Here you are. Doctor.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Thank you. Professor Patterson.

DICK GIBSON: Patterson never opened his mouth. Behr-Bleibtreau’s a ventriloquist! What’s going on here? Why are you lying to my listeners?

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: But it’s you who are lying, Mr. Gibson. I must confess I don’t understand what you hope to accomplish.

DICK GIBSON: What do you want?

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: I want a napkin. I want the mustard. I want the plastic knife.

DICK GIBSON: What color are the walls in this studio?

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: The walls? Pale yellow, aren’t they?

DICK GIBSON: They’re white! What color’s my tie?

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Well, it’s all colors. There’s red and there’s green. It’s a pattern. It’s all colors.

DICK GIBSON: It’s blue, it’s solid blue! What are you doing? I’ll ask the people in the studio. What color is this tie I’m wearing?

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: All right, there’s no point in that. Leave it alone. All right, I’ll confess. I’ve been having some fun with you.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Very clever imitation of my voice, Mr. Gibson. You ought to do this sort of thing professionally — in nightclubs.

DICK GIBSON: Thank you very much, Doctor.

DICK GIBSON: You mean you ought to. Ladies and gentlemen, I didn’t imitate him. He imitated me.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Look out!

DICK GIBSON: He also imitated me saying “Ladies and gentlemen, I didn’t imitate him. He imitated me.” I haven’t said anything since I asked the studio audience about the color of my tie.

DICK GIBSON: He said that too.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Look out! He’s got a gun!

DICK GIBSON: Oh, ho! That was a mistake, Dr. Behr-Bleibtreau. I think I’ll just sit this one out. I don’t see any gun. If he has one — whoever he may be — he should be making some demands along about now. He should be saying “Hands up! Give me your money and nobody’ll get hurt,” or “Don’t anyone move, I’m taking the woman with me.” People with guns can be very articulate about what they want.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: What if they’re suicidal?

DICK GIBSON: What are you talking about? What do you mean?

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: What if they intend to kill themselves? What if the gun is still concealed and they intend to shoot themselves?

DICK GIBSON: Look, come on. Who’s supposed to have this gun? If someone really has a gun—

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Tell him. (silence) Go ahead, tell him. I release your tongue. You may speak, (silence)

DICK GIBSON: There. You see? I don’t deny, of course, that Mr. Behr-Bleibtreau could come up with an appropriate voice, but I wonder how convincing his bang bang would be.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Tell him!

DICK GIBSON: Tell me.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Ncy chymyc Tell him.

MEL SON: What do I have to lose? It’s almost all up with me anyway. Gibson’s tie is brown and yellow stripes. The walls are green.

DICK GIBSON: Mel? Is that you, Mel? Is he doing your voice?

DICK GIBSON: (whispering) (I didn’t ask that.)

MEL SON: It’s me.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Show him the gun, why don’t you?

[Mel Son takes a revolver out of his pocket.]

DICK GIBSON: What is this? Mel, what’s happening?

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Does he have a gun?

DICK GIBSON: Yes.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Did you say yes or was that me imitating your voice?

DICK GIBSON: I said yes.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Speak up. Will Dick Gibson deny that Mel Son has a weapon in his hand? Supposing for a moment that the audience has been hearing two Dick Gibsons, a real one and an imposter — which is not the case — that would still leave the real Dick Gibson to deny the existence of the gun. Does he deny it?

DICK GIBSON: I already said he has a gun. I already said so.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: There are no disclaimers? It’s not too late.

DICK GIBSON: The gun’s real. The real Dick Gibson says the real gun is real.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Very well, then.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: You really are a superb mimic, Mr. Gibson.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Stop that.

DICK GIBSON: Is that loaded?

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Show him.

[Mel Son holds the gun out and Dick Gibson peers into the chambers of the revolver. The leaden tips of the bullets resemble dull stones in a bracelet.]

DICK GIBSON: (softly) You want to put that back, Mel. What would you need a thing like that for?

MEL SON: I’m hunting. I’m a hunter.

DICK GIBSON: (to Behr-Bleibtreau) Why don’t you talk to him? Can you talk to him?

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Me? Shall I hypnotize him?

DICK GIBSON: Why would a man bring a gun into a radio station? He’s supposed to be a professional. That’s got to be against FCC regulations. I just hope this program isn’t being monitored. There’d be one hell of an investigation.

[There is a click.]

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: He’s cocked it.

DICK GIBSON: Listen, I don’t like what’s happening here. I think we need the police, (to the listening audience) Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dick Gibson, WHCN, Hartford, Connecticut. There’s a man in my studio waving a revolver around. If the police are listening, would you get over here, please? Maybe one of you listeners ought to phone them and tell them what’s happening.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: Do you think that was wise? He could kill half a dozen people before the police even got close to him. He means to die. anyway.

DICK GIBSON: We don’t know that.

MEL SON: We know it.

DICK GIBSON: (to the listening audience) Forget what I said. Don’t phone the police. (to Behr-Bleibtreau) If the police heard me they’ll be coming. They’d have to; it’s their duty. There’s no way to stop them.

BEHR-BLEIBTREAU: They didn’t hear you.

DICK GIBSON: They didn’t? (suspiciously) They didn’t, eh? (whispering now) (Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dick Gibson, WHCN, Hartford, Connecticut, the Qui Transtulit Sustinet State. A fantastic thing is going on at this station. I’m sitting in Studio 2A, where several people have gathered for an informal midnight-to- dawn talk program called The Dick Gibson Show. The guests, Jack Patterson, Bernard Perk. Pepper Steep and our Special Guest, Psychologist Edmond Behr-Bleibtreau, together with Jerry the engineer and yours truly, Dick Gibson, the show’s host who is wearing a solid blue tie, are being held virtually at bay in the white-walled studio along with several of their guests by Mel Son, an Amherst, Massachusetts, disc jockey and former unsuccessful candidate for the Massachusetts State Assembly. I don’t know how long I’ll be permitted to speak into these microphones, ladies and gentlemen, but as long as I’m able I’ll try to give you a picture of what’s happening here. There are, of course, several eyewitnesses to these events, and I’d put them on the air to let them describe in their own words all that’s occurred, but unfortunately, all their voices seem to have been stolen, with the exception of my own, Mel Son’s, and Dr. Behr-Bleibtreau’s. The pussycat’s got their tongues. Dr. Jack Patterson of Hartford Community College made a brief remark a little over an hour ago to Bernie Perk, the registered pharmacist, but since then has lapsed back into silence. Listeners to the program heard Patterson’s voice again a few moments ago when he reputedly handed Behr- Bleibtreau a napkin to wipe some ketchup off his glasses, but both the remark and the ketchup incident itself have been challenged by your reporter who believes the learned psychologist to be some kind of hypnotist/ventriloquist. At any rate, the three principals seem to be Behr-Bleibtreau, Mel Son and Dick Gibson. Wait, Behr-Bleibtreau is about to speak. Let’s listen …)