Wednesday, April 29, 2009

"'Way Out" (1961)

Title : Way Out

Plot keywords : * Anthology

Roald Dahl: I have a maiden aunt in Norway who was actually rolled out of bed onto the floor three nights running, by a ghost. But then she lives in what was once a very old trysting place. About 400 years ago, they bricked up a naughty girl in the wall of that room: that sort of thing always produces a ghost. If your wife is extremely delicate, and you tickle her to death, that will produce a ghost, too - so you have to be careful. We have another one for you next week at the same time. Good night and sleep well.

Season 1, Episode 6: The Croaker
[first lines]
Announcer: And now, your host, Roald Dahl.
Host: How are you? And how is your love life, you ladies? Because whatever happens, you should always try to realize that men are not nearly so preoccupied with the opposite sex as most women would like to think. Above all, you see, man is a colossal egotist, far more enamored with his own self than he is with females. And that, quite obviously, is why women are always having to doll themselves up attractively to attract his attention. To me the behavior of the male human is very much like that of a male frog. The frog, whenever he feels a trifle amorous, calls to his female by blowing out his dewlap and letting it go with a burp. The female comes hoppity hop hop over to his side and waits eagerly, but by then the male has become so engrossed with the business of blowing his own horn that he's forgotten all about her and she actually has to nudge him several times before he turns to embrace her.

Host: Our play, strangely enough, is called "The Croaker" by Phil Reisman Jr. and, of course, is Way Out.

Mr. Rana: Do you always go around breaking into people's houses without knocking?
Jeremy Keeler: Sure! Otherwise nobody would let me in. People don't like me much.

Cora Tench: Don't just sit there, Fred; go out and look for him. After all, he's your dog.
Fred Tench: What do you mean 'my dog'? I only bought the mutt so you two could bark at each other and leave me in peace.

Mr. Rana: Listen, boy, when you grow up - if you grow up - you'll be exposed to all the idiotic theories of that monumental fraud called Darwin. According to him, mankind developed out of something like this and then he said it evolved up through the jellyfish, the flatworm, the fishes past the amphibians to the birds and the reptiles.
Jeremy Keeler: Reptiles? You mean like snakes? They're cool!
Mr. Rana: They're the greatest abomination on Earth, boy. The mortal enemy of frogs! They're not even entitled to a place in evolution.

Mr. Rana: All things beyond the frog are just mutations of the frog. Look here, how can you improve upon perfection.

Sergeant McGoogan: Let me check this description again, Mrs. Tench. Collar yellow, eyes narrow and close together, weak chin, drools in the car. Well, that's a description of the missing dog!
Cora Tench: That's a description of both missing dogs, Sergeant. Look, all I know two nights ago, my idiot husband went next door looking for his idiot mutt and I haven't seen hide nor hair of either one since.

Sergeant McGoogan: You said he didn't pack a bag. We checked the railroad station, the bus depot and the taxi companies and there's no withdraw from your bank account.
Cora Tench: I certainly hope not.
Sergeant McGoogan: And we checked all the bars and taverns, the bottom of Mill Creek, the sand and gravel pit and homes of three ladies whose husbands travel extensively. Was he insured?
Cora Tench: You mean did I do away with him? Not yet.

Sergeant McGoogan: [to Jeremy] Out out out! I can hardly wait until you're 18.
Sergeant McGoogan: [to Cora] Sometimes you can hit 'em when they're 15.

Cora Tench: He had just told me that you had transformed Fred into a frog.
Mr. Rana: Oh, he did, did he?
Cora Tench: Imagine that. With a wave of your magic wand... or don't they use those anymore?
Mr. Rana: Oh, quite obsolete, quite obsolete, Cora. Now days, we would use a chemical decoction; something colorless, tasteless, with perhaps just a faint odor of pond water, but disguised in the heavier scent of, say, whiskey.

[last lines]
Host: Are frogs happier than people? This is the question just posed by the play you've just seen. But several good friends of mine, all of them frogs, have told me that the price of people's legs in the better frog's restaurants, is ridicuously high at the moment and this for one thing is causing much unhappiness. We'll have another story for you next week at the same time. Good night and sleep... well.

Cora Tench: My husband couldn't disappear without a trace. He's too irritating.

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