I adore this sketch. Yeah, yeah, it's mine...but I thought it was the quintessential Prairie Home Companion bit. It was Halloween, it was a take on a classic tale and it was ABOUT SOUND EFFECTS. Garrison Keillor loved doing SFX skits on the radio. I thought I nailed it. Alas, it was not to be. I re-did it a couple times. Even got it accepted to a Halloween-themed stage show, but that collapsed when they lost funding. It was part of a radio script I submitted to a contest, but they broke up my anthology 20-minute script and just featured another bit (War of the Worms) from the full script. Oh well...
Anyway, all in good fun and here to remind you to get a copy of Halloweenies today!
The Tell-Tale SFX
(Thunder, wind)
NARRATOR: He was dead. I was sure of that. I killed him; killed him with my own hands. The old man had shared quarters with me for only a month but in that time I grew to despise him. His uncouth ways and his milky eye sent shivers up and down my spine. It was a malignant orb that once turned upon you would turn your blood cold. His presence could no longer be tolerated. He had to be dispatched.
(Clock ticking, wind blowing, creaking)
NARRATOR: In the dead of night I slowly made my way to his room. He lodged in the basement. A dim, dark place but good enough for the likes of him. I slipped into his room with nary a sound, save the ancient hinges upon which the door hung.
(Door creaks open)
NARRATOR: But the fates were kind to me that twilight time. Asleep he remained. I was able to smother him. Smother him with is own pillow. Yes, there was resistance at first so I held the pillow in place ever more tightly until the body sagged and the limps collapsed. I knew I could take no chances, so I held the pillow in place. After an hour I could be should he was deceased.
(Scrapping, mixing sounds. Brick hitting brick)
NARRATOR: Working quickly, I mixed the mortar and bricked up the basement room. His final resting place. His domain forever more. Now I was free from his blighted presence.
(Wind blows. A wolf howls.)
NARRATOR: But it was that very night, as I sat alone, eating my first meal of freedom, lost in the quietude of the evening, something seemed amiss.
(Plates clinking)
NARRATOR: A sound rose out of the dusk-lined corner of the room.
(Soft heart beat)
NARRATOR: I dismissed it. Possibly it was the heating system kicking in. The night was unusually chilling and the furnace overdue for maintenance. But then the heating system did come to life…
(Pipe banging, whooshing noise)
NARRATOR: And the sound became more distinct.
(Heart beat)
NARRATOR: It grew stronger and stronger. Louder and louder. I was afraid the neighbors would hear. What was that?
(Raven caws, wind chimes sound. The heart beat continues)
NARRATOR: I attempted to drown out the sound by turning on the radio, but alas, all I could pick up was static…
(Static. Heart beep continues.)
NARRATOR: And an angry radio personality…
RUSH: These unpatriotic people are wrong on so many levels. Let’s list them---
NARRATOR: Bagpipes! I would get out my bagpipes and play a merry tune. No doubt such whimsy would drive off the malevolent disturbance.
(Bagpipes whine. Heartbeat continues, louder)
NARRATOR: Failure! The veins in my temples were throbbing now in the same rhythmic beat of the unseen heart. That old man wasn’t dead! He had tricked me somehow! His living, beating heart was proof of that. Surely, the pounding of the heart, shaking the very walls of my abode, would attract the attention of our landlord. Or the neighbors. Or even the law. I had to stop it. I had to get back into the sealed room and silence the beating heart once again. I grabbed a pick and began chipping away at the brick wall.
(Banging)
NARRATOR: Then, to get through the struts and timber, I got out the chainsaw.
(Chainsaw fires up and cuts away at the wall)
NARRATOR: Finally, with my jackhammer I was able to make quick work of the tomb’s entrance.
(Jackhammer)
NARRATOR: At last, I was able to secure an opening large enough to pass through. I got into the room and turned on the light.
(Click)
NARRATOR: Who are you???
SOUND GUY: I’m the sound effects guy.
NARRATOR: What?
SOUND GUY: I’m the sound effects guy. I do the sound effects.
NARRATOR: So all that was you?
SOUND GUY: Yup.
NARRATOR: Get out. Get out of here now! I can’t believe you just did that to me! Out!
end
NARRATOR: He was dead. I was sure of that. I killed him; killed him with my own hands. The old man had shared quarters with me for only a month but in that time I grew to despise him. His uncouth ways and his milky eye sent shivers up and down my spine. It was a malignant orb that once turned upon you would turn your blood cold. His presence could no longer be tolerated. He had to be dispatched.
(Clock ticking, wind blowing, creaking)
NARRATOR: In the dead of night I slowly made my way to his room. He lodged in the basement. A dim, dark place but good enough for the likes of him. I slipped into his room with nary a sound, save the ancient hinges upon which the door hung.
(Door creaks open)
NARRATOR: But the fates were kind to me that twilight time. Asleep he remained. I was able to smother him. Smother him with is own pillow. Yes, there was resistance at first so I held the pillow in place ever more tightly until the body sagged and the limps collapsed. I knew I could take no chances, so I held the pillow in place. After an hour I could be should he was deceased.
(Scrapping, mixing sounds. Brick hitting brick)
NARRATOR: Working quickly, I mixed the mortar and bricked up the basement room. His final resting place. His domain forever more. Now I was free from his blighted presence.
(Wind blows. A wolf howls.)
NARRATOR: But it was that very night, as I sat alone, eating my first meal of freedom, lost in the quietude of the evening, something seemed amiss.
(Plates clinking)
NARRATOR: A sound rose out of the dusk-lined corner of the room.
(Soft heart beat)
NARRATOR: I dismissed it. Possibly it was the heating system kicking in. The night was unusually chilling and the furnace overdue for maintenance. But then the heating system did come to life…
(Pipe banging, whooshing noise)
NARRATOR: And the sound became more distinct.
(Heart beat)
NARRATOR: It grew stronger and stronger. Louder and louder. I was afraid the neighbors would hear. What was that?
(Raven caws, wind chimes sound. The heart beat continues)
NARRATOR: I attempted to drown out the sound by turning on the radio, but alas, all I could pick up was static…
(Static. Heart beep continues.)
NARRATOR: And an angry radio personality…
RUSH: These unpatriotic people are wrong on so many levels. Let’s list them---
NARRATOR: Bagpipes! I would get out my bagpipes and play a merry tune. No doubt such whimsy would drive off the malevolent disturbance.
(Bagpipes whine. Heartbeat continues, louder)
NARRATOR: Failure! The veins in my temples were throbbing now in the same rhythmic beat of the unseen heart. That old man wasn’t dead! He had tricked me somehow! His living, beating heart was proof of that. Surely, the pounding of the heart, shaking the very walls of my abode, would attract the attention of our landlord. Or the neighbors. Or even the law. I had to stop it. I had to get back into the sealed room and silence the beating heart once again. I grabbed a pick and began chipping away at the brick wall.
(Banging)
NARRATOR: Then, to get through the struts and timber, I got out the chainsaw.
(Chainsaw fires up and cuts away at the wall)
NARRATOR: Finally, with my jackhammer I was able to make quick work of the tomb’s entrance.
(Jackhammer)
NARRATOR: At last, I was able to secure an opening large enough to pass through. I got into the room and turned on the light.
(Click)
NARRATOR: Who are you???
SOUND GUY: I’m the sound effects guy.
NARRATOR: What?
SOUND GUY: I’m the sound effects guy. I do the sound effects.
NARRATOR: So all that was you?
SOUND GUY: Yup.
NARRATOR: Get out. Get out of here now! I can’t believe you just did that to me! Out!
end
