ANNOUNCER. And now Malt-O-Cod, the only malt food drink flavored with real cod-liver oil, proudly presents…
ANNOUNCER. The Adventures of Sir Montague Blastoff, Interplanetary Space Dragoon!
(Music: Theme, in and under for…)
ANNOUNCER. Tonight we find Sir Montague busy as always, with Colonel Wilhelmina Darling by his side.
SIR MONTAGUE. I say, could you give us a hand with this?
COL. DARLING. What do you need, Monty?
SIR MONTAGUE. It’s these quarterly reports. I’ve been racking my brain trying to remember whether our battle with the Wombat People was before or after five in the evening. I wasn’t exactly watching the clock, you know.
COL. DARLING. Does it really matter?
SIR MONTAGUE. Well, of course it matters, my dear. If it was after five, then it goes on form 398-B, not A, and everyone must be paid time and a half overtime.
COL. DARLING. In that case, it was definitely after five.
SIR MONTAGUE. Are you quite sure? Wouldn’t want to get a thing like that wrong, you know.
COL. DARLING. I may be only nineteen and ravishingly beautiful, but I am also a colonel in the 58th Interplanetary Space Dragoons. My word is my bond.
SIR MONTAGUE. Very well, then. Now, when I rescued you from the wicked Viscount Van Allen Flogg, did you remember to file Form 8340-M, Escape from Fate Worse than Death?
COL. DARLING. Oh, Monty, can you doubt me after all our precious moments together?
SIR MONTAGUE. I’ll take that as a yes, then, which is jolly fortunate. Saves a rotten lot of paperwork if you did. Now, after we were lost for three weeks on the Dragon Sands of the planet Bingo and we had to eat our own boots, did you remember to fill out all the proper Disposition of Footwear forms when we got back?
COL. DARLING. You know I did, Monty. I’d do anything for you.
SIR MONTAGUE. And a fine thing, too. I like having someone I can jolly well rely on to take care of the old paperwork. “That Colonel Darling,” I always say to myself—”what a fine bureaucratic mind she has.”
COL. DARLING. But, Monty, don’t you ever think of me in any other way?
SIR MONTAGUE. Well, of course, you do make a dashed fine gin and tonic. Never could quite get the recipe right myself.
COL. DARLING. But, Monty, don’t you have—you know—feelings for me?
SIR MONTAGUE. Feelings?
COL. DARLING. I may be a colonel in the 58th Interplanetary Space Dragoons, but I am also nineteen and ravishingly beautiful. Surely you must have noticed that my heaving bosom swells with billows of love.
SIR MONTAGUE. I say! Do you mean to tell me you’re in love with me?
COL. DARLING. Always and forever, Monty! I’ve been in love with you since the moment you whisked me away from the death pits of the Ant-Lion People!
SIR MONTAGUE. Well, dash it all.
COL. DARLING (shocked and hurt). Why, Monty, how could you react that way?
SIR MONTAGUE. Well, it means another bally load of forms to fill out, that’s all. I say, could you give us a hand with them?
(Music: Theme, in and under for…)
ANNOUNCER. Don’t miss next week’s exciting episode: Sir Montague Blastoff vs. the Department of Motor Vehicles! Till then, remember to pester your parents for Malt-O-Cod every day. It’s the only malt food drink with the rich, satisfying flavor of real cod-liver oil, now with the exclusive Sir Montague Blastoff pocket financial calculator in every package. It’s the malt food drink that’s brain food—Malt-O-Cod!
(Music: In full, then out.)