ANNOUNCER. And now Malt-O-Cod, the only malt food drink flavored with real cod-liver oil, proudly presents…

(Music: Fanfare)

ANNOUNCER. The Adventures of Sir Montague Blastoff, Interplanetary Space Dragoon!

(Music: Theme, in and under for…)

ANNOUNCER. Tonight we find Sir Montague busy at his desk with some paperwork, when suddenly a very flustered Colonel Wilhelmina Darling rushes into the room.

COL. DARLING. Monty! Oh, Monty! I’m really freaked out.

SIR MONTAGUE. Language, colonel! Now, what seems to be the trouble?

COL. DARLING. Well,  I found this big book—more of a binder actually—with the funniest title. It’s called “Show Bible.” And I thought, “Is that a Bible you show to people for some reason?” But I took a look in it, and it’s not like I remember the Bible, although there are some, um, begats. No, it’s about us, Monty!

SIR MONTAGUE. You mean, you and—and me?

COL. DARLING. Everyone in the station! Like right here, on this page, there’s a whole section about the station master. And it says he’s a career bureaucrat, and he likes Swiss cheese but hates rye bread, and the “season finale,” whatever that is, will reveal that he’s been in the pay of the Wombat People since he arrived. Is a “season finale” some sort of truth serum?

SIR MONTAGUE. In a way, my dear. You might say so.

COL. DARLING. And here it says that the janitor has been sweeping muffin wrappers under the rug for seventeen years. Is that why the carpet is so…squishy? And it says old Mrs. Feeble who runs the commissary always thickens the sausage gravy with sawdust on biscuit mornings. Wouldn’t that disqualify her if it got out?

SIR MONTAGUE. I’m sure it’s against regulations somehow.

COL. DARLING. And it says…

SIR MONTAGUE. But, I say, old girl, you don’t really believe any of that, do you?

COL. DARLING. Well, I don’t know.

SIR MONTAGUE. Why, we’ve known these people for years. This book you’ve found must be full of the most egregious bally nonsense.

COL. DARLING. Do you think so?

SIR MONTAGUE. Well, for example, let’s see what it says about you.

COL. DARLING. Um… You don’t have to…

SIR MONTAGUE. Let’s see… Wilhelmina Darling… Colonel, 58th Interplanetary Space Dragoons… Nineteen and ravishingly beautiful… Well, look here, it says that before you were captured by the Ant-Lion People, you were working as a ten-cents-a-dance girl in a tawdry ballroom in one of the less desirable neighborhoods on Triton. Now, we know that can’t be true, can it?

COL. DARLING. Um, no. Of course not.

SIR MONTAGUE. Of course not. You’re a highly trained military professional. So, you see, clearly this is someone’s rather sad attempt at a practical joke, or perhaps a plot by one of our many enemies to undermine our confidence. But we shan’t fall for it, shall we?

COL. DARLING. No. No, we, um, shan’t.

SIR MONTAGUE. So if, hypothetically, there were a section on me, and if there were—hypothetically—some absolute rubbish in it about my growing up in Hoboken and learning my accent from reruns of Are You Being Served, why, you wouldn’t believe it at all, would you?

COL. DARLING. No. Not a word of it. I mean, just like you don’t believe the thing about the Dance-a-Topia Ballroom. Or, I mean, whatever the name of it was.

SIR MONTAGUE. Splendid! Glad we cleared that up, old girl. Now give us a hand with this paperwork. Was it before or after 5 p.m. when we fell into the clutches of the Marmoset Men?

(Music: Theme, in and under for…)

ANNOUNCER. And so, once again, Sir Montague and Colonel Darling are victorious over the forces of angst. Don’t miss next week’s exciting episode: Sir Montague Blastoff Requisitions a Requisition Form! Till then, kids, don’t listen to anything you hear about shipments of Malt-O-Cod being seized by the FDA. There are still plenty of shipments they didn’t get, and there will be no shortage at your local grocery store. Always remember to beg your parents for the rich, satisfying flavor of Malt-O-Cod every morning. It’s the malt food drink that’s brain food—Malt-O-Cod!

(Music: In full, then out.)