That was the one thing about radio, I just saw it as dialogue-driven but I never let the words lead the listener along. I rarely used dialogue to introduce another character or weave a visual gag. People would talk and if someone new entered the scene, they would just start talking. I think I started to realize with this bit that I had to walk the audience through the scene aurally.
Plus, I found myself writing almost a whole 'nother routine to set up this one as a radio bit. All the mentions of other radio shows were new for the lead-in. Rule of three and all that. And I got to play with sound effects again. But, as is often the case, the sketch leaned too heavily on TV shows and that may have doomed it. And, perhaps, the cast size. Also GK, who was old then, had just had a kid, and I made mention of it; which could have gone either way. Though the idea of GK describing an episode of the kiddie show Teletubbies would have been so funny.
SS: (little kid) Today's broadcast is brought to you by the letters AM and FM. And by the frequencey 92.4.
GK: There's an cute program, the Radio-tubbies. It's about a group of odd little creatures with antenna coming out of their heads. And speakers in their bellies. They play all sorts of sound effects like boings---
GK: And the occasional raspberry---
GK: And then one of the characters will say---
SS: Again! Again!
GK: And they'll play them all again---
(BOING, RATCHET, RASPBERRY)
GK: I suppose the most interesting is a new program called Reality Time Station.
(TINKLING PIANO MUSIC)
SS: Oh, wow! I can't believe we're here!
TR: Yeah, every kid dreams of coming here!
SS: Reality-time Station! Look, it's Mr. Engineer!
TR: Wow! He just magically appeared!
ME: Hey, you kids! You got business here? I'll have you arrested for loitering! You better not have any cans of spray paint on you, or you're in big trouble!
SS: Hi, Mr. Engineer! I'm Susie and he's Billy. We're here to meet our grandparents. They're coming on the 10:15 train.
ME: Then get comfortable, 'cause the 10:15 won't be here 'til around twelve. I hope you packed a lunch.
TR No, we didn't.
SS: We didn't think the trains were ever late here.
ME: Who do you think I am? Mussolini? Get real, kids.
SS: So, what are we going to do until then?
TR: We could engage in delightful banter with Mr. Engineer.
ME: Oh, crud. I knew you were going to say that.
SS&TR: Oh, please, please, please!
ME: Okay, okay, stop whining. So, kids, whattaya wanna be when up grow up?
TR: I want to be president!
SS: I want to be a famous ballerina!
ME: Right. Those are real worthy goals, kids, but hey, truth is, guys; Bill, studies shown you won't even graduate high school. You'll drop out, deal in crack for awhile and get gunned down by a Columbian drug gang. You, Susie, well, you'll probably grow up, marry a pre-med student, give up your dreams and career to help put him through medical school, move to the 'burbs, then have him dump you and your four kids when he goes through male menopause and takes a trophy wife.
ME: Sorry, kids, I tell it like it is here at Reality-Time Station.
SS: How about a story?
TR: Yes, please. A wonderful tale about some of your magical friends!
ME: Yo, Bill, do me a favor. Cut down on the old sugar intake, huh?
SS&TR: Oh, a story, please, please, please!
ME: All right. Oh, here's a good one. It's about my old friend Murray the Accountant...
"Once upon a time, in a land called Yonkers, there lived a boy called Murray. Now Murray's friends all wanted to grow up to be police officers and fire fighters and astronauts and doctors and lots of other noble and exciting stuff. But Murray always told everyone he wanted to be an accountant just like his dad. The other children laughed at Murray and taunted him endlessly. As time went on, Murray's friends grew up and got to be police officers and fire fighters and astronauts and doctors and such. And they died in shoot-outs and fires and rocket ship explosions and contracted horrible, terminal diseases. And you know what happened to Murray? He became an accountant and now makes a very comfortable living. He has a wife and three children and a girlfriend in the city. The end." Wasn't that a nice story?
SS: No, it wasn't, Mr. Engineer.
TR: What, do you, like, hate kids or something?
ME: What can I say? I'm just a misanthropic old coot.
Oh, wait a second!
SS: Hey, where'd he go? He just disappeared!
TR: What is it?
ME: Your grandfolks' train derailed outside town. You'd better hop on over to the hospital to see if they're there...
(The kids scream and run out.)
ME: Kids. Well, I hope they come back tomorrow. Maybe we'll get to talk about the threat of bio-weapon annihilation.
(PIANO MUSIC PLAYS OUT)