Episode #8
Date: 10 August 1947
CHAPPELL: Quiet, please.
(SEVEN SECOND'S SILENCE)
CHAPPELL: Quiet, please.
(MUSIC...THEME...FADE FOR)
ANNOUNCER: Today's "Quiet, Please!" story, written and directed by Wyllis
Cooper, and featuring Ernest Chappell, is called "Bring Me to Life."
(MUSIC ... THEME ... UP AND FADE)
---
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACKING AWAY ... AFTER A MOMENT, A PHONE RINGS)
WRITER: Ahhh, shut up.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS KEEP CLACKING ... PHONE KEEPS RINGING)
WRITER: Why can't people let me alone?!
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER STOPS ... PICKS UP PHONE)
WRITER: (BRUSQUE) Yeah?!
HANK: This is Hank Biscardi.
WRITER: (FEIGNED PLEASANTNESS) Hello, Hank! How are you today?
HANK: Where's your script?
WRITER: Oh, I've - just got three more pages to go. I'll get 'em into you this
afternoon.
HANK: Well, be sure you do, will ya? We're sitting here waiting for it.
WRITER: Don't worry, Hank. I'll - I'll get it in all right.
HANK: No kidding, now. We've GOT to have it today!
WRITER: (ABRUPTLY UPSET) All right! All right! You'll get it!
HANK: Okay. I'll wait for ya.
WRITER: All right. I'll see ya!
SOUND: (HANGS UP PHONE BRUSQUELY)
WRITER: Yeah. (PAUSE) Yeah, I'll see ya ... (SIGH) I'll see if I get an idea.
Got no more idea than a rabbit.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS START UP AGAIN, VERY BRIEFLY)
WRITER: (CHUCKLES, READS) "Page one." (PAUSE) Well, that's a start. Let me
see. What I need's a character. Character, character, come on, character.
SOUND: (DOOR OPENS)
RUTH: Have you got three dollars?
WRITER: No, I haven't got three dollars. What do you want three dollars for?
RUTH: The milkman. You had some money last night.
WRITER: I got eighty cents.
RUTH: (IRONIC) Thanks.
WRITER: Listen, Ruthie, give me an idea for a character.
RUTH: I haven't got any ideas for characters. Haven't you really got three
dollars? He's been here twice.
WRITER: Give 'em a check. What I want's a character for this script.
RUTH: The only one I can think of now is the milkman. YOU GET TO WORK!
SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS)
WRITER: (CHUCKLES) Yeah, yeah. "Get to work." Sure, sure. If I get a
character, I'll get to work. That's all I need. Then I'll get a story all
right. I think. Come on, character. Come on, character.
SOUND: (KNOCK AT DOOR)
WRITER: (TO HIMSELF) Yeah, now what's she want? (CALLS OUT) I said I haven't
got three dollars!
SOUND: (KNOCK AT DOOR)
WRITER: Aw, come on in, Ruth! What are ya--?
SOUND: (KNOCK AT DOOR)
WRITER: What's the matter with ya?
SOUND: (RISES, FOOTSTEPS TO DOOR, KNOCK AT DOOR, DOOR OPENS)
WRITER: Come on in, I sai--! Ruth?!
RUTH: (FROM A DISTANCE) You calling me?!
WRITER: Didn't you knock at this door?
RUTH: (FROM A DISTANCE) Are you crazy?!
WRITER: Well, I thought I heard somebody.
RUTH: (FROM A DISTANCE) Get to work!
SOUND: (IN BG, TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK BRIEFLY)
WRITER: All right, all right.
SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS, FOOTSTEPS BACK TO TYPEWRITER, SITS)
WRITER: (SIGHS) Doggone it, I must be going--
(SURPRISED) Now, I didn't write THAT.
How did that get on that paper?
(READS) "Bring me to life."
(CONFUSED) I didn't write that.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK BRIEFLY)
WRITER: (STARTLED EXCLAMATION, THEN READS) "No. I did." (CALLS OUT) Ruth!
Ruthie! Hey, Ruthie!
SOUND: (DOOR OPENS)
RUTH: (FROM OFF) What's the matter?
WRITER: Ruthie, come here! Come here, quick!
RUTH: (APPROACHING, ANNOYED) What's the matter with you?
WRITER: Come here. Look at my typewriter.
RUTH: Well, what about it?
WRITER: Well, look! Look what's on the paper.
RUTH: (READS) "Bring me to life." (TO WRITER) What's strange about that?
WRITER: Well - I didn't write it.
RUTH: What? Are you cr--?
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK BRIEFLY)
WRITER: Look! Look! See what it's doing? Underlining those words.
RUTH: How are you doing that?
WRITER: I'm not, I tell ya. Look, I SAID I didn't write it. And the typewriter
just said, "No. I did."
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER BELL RINGS A FEW TIMES, AS IF TO SAY, "YES, YES")
RUTH: Well, who is it--?
WRITER: I don't--
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK SLOWLY)
WRITER: (READS) "C-H-A-R-A-C-T-E-R" -- character!
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER BELL RINGS A FEW TIMES, AS IF TO SAY, "YES, YES")
WRITER: Oh, me.
RUTH: Now, look. This is a gag of some kind. How are you doing it?
WRITER: I tell ya, it isn't a gag. That - that typewriter's haunted.
RUTH: This is impossible now, I tell you.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK BRIEFLY)
WRITER: It is, huh? Well, look at it.
RUTH: (READS) "Bring me to life."
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER BELL RINGS A FEW TIMES, AS IF TO SAY, "YES, YES")
WRITER: You see?
RUTH: All right, smart guy, it's a great trick. How do you do it?
WRITER: Ruth, I swear to-- I swear I'm NOT doing it.
RUTH: You are, too.
WRITER: Look, now, wait. (WALKS OFF) Wait a minute, I'll go way over here. And
you'll see. Now, it'll write. It'll write. Watch now.
RUTH: (AFTER A PAUSE) I KNEW it was a gag! Listen, I've got housework to do.
Now, you go on and get that script written!
WRITER: Doggone it, Ruth, I - I have to think up a character first.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER BELL RINGS A FEW TIMES, AS IF TO SAY, "YES, YES")
WRITER: (CLOSE AGAIN) There it goes again.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK BRIEFLY)
RUTH: (READS) It says, "Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!"
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER BELL RINGS A FEW TIMES, AS IF TO SAY, "YES, YES")
RUTH: All right. There's your character. Write about him.
WRITER: Do you really suppose--?
RUTH: Now, look, darling. I've been married to a writer long enough to believe
almost anything. I don't know how this is done but it's worth trying, isn't
it?
WRITER: Well, I - don't like to monkey with things like that.
RUTH: Oh, don't be silly.
WRITER: Well, it's-- Wait a minute, it's one thing to WRITE about supernatural
things, it's - well, it's another to - experience 'em.
RUTH: Ha! You've always been wishing you had a typewriter that'd do your
scripts for you. Now you've got it. Go 'head.
WRITER: Well, yes, but, uh -- Um, how do I know who this is?
RUTH: Who?
WRITER: Well, this - character - or whatever he is.
RUTH: Well, YOU decide. YOU bring him to life. Go 'head.
WRITER: Well ... Who should he be?
RUTH: Well ... A pirate?
WRITER: Mm. I don't know anything about pirates.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK BRIEFLY)
WRITER: Hm? What?
RUTH: It says, "I do"! Go ahead.
WRITER: I don't like it.
RUTH: Go ahead. Unless this IS a gag.
WRITER: It's no gag.
RUTH: WRITE!
WRITER: Well ...
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK AS WRITER MUMBLES TO HIMSELF)
WRITER: (READS) "It was a dark and stormy night."
SOUND: (MASSIVE THUNDERCLAP)
WRITER: What's that?!
RUTH: (DRYLY) Sounds like thunder. (FROM OFF) There's a storm coming up.
WRITER: My gosh, does this thing control the weather, too?
RUTH: Go on. Write some more. (CLOSER AGAIN) This is getting interesting.
WRITER: Well, I-- All right.
SOUND: (MORE THUNDER, WRITER TYPES AT LENGTH WHILE MUMBLING TO HIMSELF)
WRITER: (AFTER A PAUSE) Nothing's happening.
RUTH: What did you write?
WRITER: Here. Read it.
RUTH: (READS) "The pirate ship gutted through the roaring waves, all her sails
straining under the howling wind." (PAUSE, TO THE WRITER) Do you smell
anything?
WRITER: Smell? (BEAT) Yeah, I sure do. It smells like -- the ocean!
(MUSIC ... AN ACCENT, THEN EERILY IN BG)
WRITER: Go on. Read some more, Ruth. I - I think I know how this works now.
RUTH: Oh? What do you mean?
WRITER: I - think you have to - read it to make it happen.
RUTH: (SUDDENLY RELUCTANT) Well, uh -- YOU read it, then.
WRITER: No. You.
RUTH: I - I don't want to read it. I'm scared.
WRITER: I don't like it, either.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK BRIEFLY)
RUTH: Look. The typewriter.
WRITER: (READS) It says, "Read it."
RUTH: Well?
WRITER: Well, uh ... (READS) "Captain Jabez Thorne, scourge of the Spanish
Main ..."
(MUSIC ... A NAUTICAL ACCENT, THEN IN BG)
WRITER: (READS) "... scourge of the Spanish Main, slowly climbed the steps of
the companionway ..."
SOUND: (SLOW, HEAVY FOOTSTEPS UP STAIRS)
WRITER: Uh ... (READS, UNCERTAINLY) "... companionway ..."
RUTH: There's - there's somebody coming up the stairs.
WRITER: You know there aren't any stairs in this house.
RUTH: Oh. Read some more.
WRITER: (READS) "... then flung open the door ..."
SOUND: (DOOR OPENS)
RUTH: (STARTLED) Oh!
WRITER: (READS) "He gazed on the wild scene for a second and - drew his
cutlass ..."
SOUND: (CUTLASS DRAWN, SOMETHING SHATTERS)
(MUSIC OUT)
WRITER: What--? What's that?!
RUTH: My Swedish crystal vase!
WRITER: It - it fell down!
RUTH: He knocked it off with that - that cutlass or whatever it is! THAT VASE
COST FORTY-TWO DOLLARS!
WRITER: Well, I couldn't help it, honey!
RUTH: You DO something about it! Ohhh! My beautiful vase! And there isn't
another one like it in the world!
WRITER: Well, what can I do? For gosh sakes, honey, I can't help-- (GETS AN
IDEA) Wait a minute! Wait!
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK URGENTLY)
WRITER: (READS, TRIUMPHANTLY) "He returned the cutlass - to its scabbard."
SOUND: (CUTLASS SHEATHED)
WRITER: You see?
RUTH: That DOESN'T bring back my vase!
WRITER: Well, listen. (READS) "He turned to the beautiful girl at his side..."
RUTH: Hey, don't read that!
WRITER: (READS) "... and put out his arms."
RUTH: (STARTLED) Oh!
WRITER: What?
RUTH: Hands!
WRITER: What? What's the matter?
RUTH: Hands! Great big hands! Oh! Mmmmmmmm!
WRITER: Ruth? What's happening?
RUTH: Mmmmmmmmm!
WRITER: Ruth!
RUTH: Somebody kissed me! With - with whiskers!
(MUSIC ... NAUTICAL ACCENT, THEN IN BG)
RUTH: Oh, you! You, pirate, you! I'll fix you!
WRITER: Ruth! No! No!
SOUND: (PAPER IS PULLED FROM TYPEWRITER, TORN TO SHREDS)
RUTH: I'll fix you!
WRITER: Ruth! Stop!
RUTH: I'll stop him!
SOUND: (FINISHES TEARING UP PAPER)
RUTH: THERE'S your pirate!
SOUND: (FOOTSTEPS AWAY)
WRITER: Aw, Ruth!
(MUSIC ... ACCENT TO INDICATE PIRATE DISAPPEARING)
SOUND: (DOOR SLAMS SHUT)
(MUSICAL BRIDGE ... THEN IN BG)
WRITER: Well, my friends, that all happened a week ago.
Sure, it really happened.
No, I haven't got any explanation for it. All I know is that that stuff
appeared on my typewriter. And all the other things happened just the way
you've heard them.
And Ruth made the pirate disappear when she tore up the sheet of paper.
(MUSIC OUT)
WRITER: All I know is, it gave me a good idea for a story about a pirate and I
wrote it. People thought it was swell.
And here it is, deadline time again, and me without an idea again, and - any
minute that Hank Biscardi'll be on that phone again asking for my script.
SOUND: (PHONE RINGS)
WRITER: (CHUCKLES) You see? Getting psychic. So, okay ...
SOUND: (PICKS UP PHONE)
WRITER: (WITH MOCK PATIENCE) Hello, Hank.
HANK: How did ya know it was me?
WRITER: I always know when it's script day. I've only got about three pages to
go, Hank.
HANK: WHEN do I get it?
WRITER: Tomorrow morning, for sure.
HANK: Okay. See that you do.
WRITER: Okay, Hank. You'll get it.
SOUND: (HANGS UP PHONE)
WRITER: (CHUCKLES GRIMLY, TO HIMSELF) You'll get it. Here we go again. Here we
go again. Ah, me, what do I write about this time?
(MUSIC ... A NAUTICAL ACCENT ... PLAYED AS A CHEERY, HELPFUL SUGGESTION)
WRITER: Ah, no. No, not about pirates again. (CHUCKLES) Now, let me think.
(MUSIC ... A ROMANTIC ACCENT)
WRITER: No, it's not for me. I - I don't like love stories.
(MUSIC ... A MILITARY MARCH ACCENT)
WRITER: Mm mm. No, no. People don't want war stories. Uh, how 'bout a
whodunit?
(MUSIC ... A TERRIFYING ACCENT, THEN UNDER OMINOUSLY)
WRITER: Yeah, a crime story. A murderer. Detective. Spies maybe. (THROUGH HIS
NOSE) "Calling all cars!" (CHUCKLES) Yeah, maybe I could do that.
Nah, awful lot of whodunits on the networks, though.
Ah, well, one more won't hurt 'em. Let's go.
Ah, now for a character.
(MUSIC ... A DRAMATIC ACCENT, THEN OUT)
WRITER: Character. I wonder. Wait a minute, wait a minute.
SOUND: (RISES, FOOTSTEPS CAUTIOUSLY TO DOOR, DOOR OPENS)
WRITER: (CALLS GENTLY) Ruth? Ruthie?
SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS, FOOTSTEPS BACK TO TYPEWRITER, SITS)
WRITER: Just, er, wanted to be sure she's asleep -- after the way she murdered
my pirate.
(LAUGHS) You know this could turn out to be a great racket. Have your
characters write your stories FOR them. (LAUGHS) The only thing is, you have
to be careful what I put down on paper. Don't want to find myself getting
choked to death by somebody I brought to life-- HEY! Hey, what am I saying?
Well ... (SIGHS)
SOUND: (PAPER ROLLED INTO TYPEWRITER)
WRITER: Let's see what happens.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK BRIEFLY)
WRITER: "Page one."
You know, you don't HAVE to believe this, friends. (CHUCKLES) I'm not so sure
I believe it, either, even though--
I've been mixed up with supernatural stories for so long, I guess I'm a sucker
for 'em. Maybe all that DIDN'T happen. Maybe Ruthie and I dreamed it. The only
thing is ... two people don't usually dream the same dream at the same time,
you know. Heh. And that Swedish crystal vase of hers IS sure busted. You know
I didn't do it.
Okay, hypnotism maybe, okay. Hypnotism or - something.
And I'm - going to try it again.
Sure, just relax.
But we'll see who'll do the laughing, huh, me or you?
How's YOUR imagination?
Mine's all right, thank you.
So - shut up a minute while I try this, huh?
Just keep quiet and let's see what happens, okay?
(AFTER A PAUSE, WHISPERS) Hey, character.
(MUSIC ... EERILY, IN BG)
WRITER: Character? Come on, character. Come on, character. (SIGHS)
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK BRIEFLY)
WRITER: Huh? What?
No, I did THAT. It wasn't the character. I just wrote, "Are you there?" We'll
see if he answers.
(WHISPERS) Come on, character, I need a story. You helped me the other day,
character -- help me now. Come on, come on. Come to life. Character, do you
hear me? Come on, pal, I need help. Don't be mad at me.
Pirate?
(MUSIC ... A NAUTICAL ACCENT)
WRITER: Romantic guy?
(MUSIC ... A ROMANTIC ACCENT)
WRITER: Well, a soldier?
(MUSIC ... A MILITARY ACCENT)
WRITER: Well, a detective?
(MUSIC ... A TERRIFYING ACCENT, THEN OUT)
WRITER: Okay. Okay, so I'm a chump. So I can't pull a character out of the air
like that. Okay. So go on and laugh. I'm sorry.
Well, if you were sitting around waitin' in the country at this time of night,
all alone, your wife sound asleep, and this is the only light in the house and
- you've got to write a supernatural story before morning-- Well, try it some
time, friend.
Just keep quiet and let me try to work, huh?
You've got nothing to do but LISTEN to the radio. How'd you like to have to
write those things that you listen to, huh?
In the middle of the night?
All alone by yourself?
Okay.
Quiet, please.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK AWAY AT LENGTH AS WRITER MUMBLES TO HIMSELF)
WRITER: Hm. (TRIUMPHANT) Ah, listen to this. (CLEARS THROAT, READS) "I am
alone. I am alone in a great dark house with only the weird wail of the wind
in the whispering willows..."
Uh, you think that's too much alliteration? "Weird wail of winds whispering
willows"?
Eh, I kinda like it.
(READS) "... in the whispering willows to keep me somber company."
(PLEASED) Yeah, that's okay, huh? Maybe I'll get a story yet. Just keep quiet.
I sure wish that character would give me a hand, though.
Now, what could happen to a guy sitting here like I am? Let's see.
What could happen? Could be a ghost. Nah, nah, no ghost. Chains clanking and
stuff, corny sound effects, naw, naw.
A burglar? Mm, well, burglar might be good. Uh, I wouldn't know what to do
about a burglar, though -- we haven't got anything worth stealing around here.
Besides, burglars are kind o' corny, too, aren't they? You know, uh, you
always think of a fat guy in a mask with an old-fashioned dark lantern and a
bag over his shoulder -- like those fellows, er, they draw in Collier's -- er,
what's the name of the fella that does it, Larry Reynolds? A big fat guy and a
little old one? (CHUCKLES) Eh, burglars are funny. (GLUMLY) Burglars are out.
(SIGHS) Well, what then? Who'd come sneaking into your house in the middle of
the night? Let's see, let's see.
Hey! What about an escaped convict?
An escaped convict. That'd be all right, wouldn't it? Uh huh. Yeah, you could
do a lot o' things with an escaped convict. Guy's wife asleep. You know, a
desperate character. I could have left the door unlocked. He could have
sneaked in. I'd never know it. He could be - looking over my shoulder right
now. (STARTLES HIMSELF) Hey! Stop that! (DISGUSTED) Scare myself to death.
(PLEASED) Hey, this'll be all right. This'll be all right. He, uh-- Let's see,
he could have sneaked into Ruthie's room.
SOUND: (DOOR OPENS OFF)
WRITER: Oh? Did I wake you, Ruthie? Oh, I'm sorry. Talkin' to myself--
RUTH: (SCREAMS, FROM A DISTANCE)
WRITER: Ruth?!
SOUND: (RISES, RUNS, DOOR OPENS)
WRITER: Ruth?!
RUTH: (SCREAMS AGAIN, CLOSER)
WRITER: What's the matter, darling? Where's the light?
MURDERER: (COOL, CALM, QUIET) Never mind the light, Mister.
SOUND: (WRITER IS PUNCHED)
WRITER: Mmmff!
SOUND: (WRITER FALLS, UNCONSCIOUS)
MURDERER: And you shut up right now.
RUTH: (SHRIEKS)
MURDERER: I said shut up.
RUTH: (MUFFLED)
MURDERER: Quiet now, stop it. Stop it and I won't hurt you. Now, stop.
RUTH: You - you hurt my husband.
MURDERER: He'll be all right - Now, just keep quiet a minute.
RUTH: Who - who are you?
MURDERER: Ma'am, I just crashed out of the "big house," as they say in the
movies.
RUTH: You - you - ?
MURDERER: I'm an escaped convict, ma'am. And, for your information, I'm a
pretty desperate escaped convict. Where's your husband keep his clothes?
RUTH: What?
MURDERER: I'm still wearing the clothes the state thoughtfully provides for
convicted murderers, ma'am, and they're rather conspicuous. I need a change.
Which is his closet?
RUTH: You - you killed him.
MURDERER: No, ma'am, I didn't kill him but I may do that yet if I don't get a
little cooperation out of you.
RUTH: Oh, let me out.
MURDERER: Now, you just sit there and tell me where to find his other suit.
Where's the light?
SOUND: (LIGHT SWITCH)
MURDERER: Mmm. You're very pretty.
RUTH: Let me go to my husband.
MURDERER: No, darling, no. I got other plans for you. Is, uh, this his closet?
SOUND: (CLOSET DOOR OPENS)
MURDERER: (IN CLOSET) Oh, yes. Nice little suits. Yeah, I - I like this one.
Yeah. (OUT OF CLOSET) A little on the large side for me but-- You can shut
your eyes while I change. I - I'll need a shirt, too.
RUTH: Oh. What are you - going to do?
MURDERER: Well, I'll tell ya. First, I'm gonna get into this nice, new
oversized suit of clothes--
RUTH: Oh. Let me see if he's all right.
MURDERER: Sorry.
SOUND: (DRAWER OPENS)
MURDERER: Mmm, nice shirts. Sorry, no, I don't think he's dead. And, uh, even
if he is, they can't hang me more than once, you know.
RUTH: Please, please!
MURDERER: Be still.
RUTH: Oh--
MURDERER: I said be still. Listen, ma'am, don't be misled because I'm treating
you nicely. I am really a very rough person. You mighta read about me in the
papers.
RUTH: Oh, please, won't you--?
MURDERER: No. Now, shut up or I'll have to shut ya up.
RUTH: What are you going--?
MURDERER: As soon as I get these clothes adjusted, I'm gonna leave here,
ma'am.
RUTH: Well, then, can I--?
MURDERER: And I'm gonna take YOU with me.
RUTH: No.
MURDERER: You see, they're out after me already and they want me pretty badly.
They have rifles and shotguns, ma'am, and they won't hesitate to use 'em. That
is, unless there's a lady present. You see? Now, now a necktie.
RUTH: You're not--?
MURDERER: Ssh! Please, please. Mm, nice tie, this. (PUTS IT ON, EXHALES) Very
nice. Eh, you see, if I might be so crude, I intend to take you along for a
kind of shield, ma'am.
RUTH: Ohhhh.
MURDERER: The boys won't shoot, you understand, if there's a possibility of
putting a bullet through YOU. So I suggest you get up and get a coat or
something. It's getting quite a lot cooler out. (BEAT) I said get up.
RUTH: I won't.
MURDERER: Ma'am, you better.
RUTH: Oh, please let me see my husband.
MURDERER: I told you he'd be all right. And if you're a good girl, you might
get back to him one of these days. If you're not-- uh, does your husband wear
hats? If you're not, you might not. Come on, get up.
RUTH: I won't. (SCREAMS)
(MUSIC ... CRASHING ACCENT, THEN IN BG)
WRITER: I suppose it was Ruth screaming that brought me back through the
darkness to a kind of semi-consciousness. The light was still on in her room,
I could hear them talking.
(MUSIC ... OUT)
MURDERER: He's still out cold, ma'am.
WRITER: I kept my eyes shut, I - I don't know why. I suppose I ought to have
got up and helped Ruth. I was still pretty groggy. I just lay there. I could
hear them.
MURDERER: Come on, come on, ma'am, I haven't got much time to waste.
RUTH: I'm not going, I tell ya.
WRITER: I got my eyes open just a little then and I could see Ruth with her
heavy coat thrown around her and - he had her by the hand and he was pulling
her toward the door.
MURDERER: Come on, come on, come on.
RUTH: No! No!
MURDERER: Come on!
SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS)
WRITER: Seemed to be a long time before I could get up on one elbow. My head
hurt. I wasn't sure what happened. Ruth was gone. Who was the man I saw
dragging her away? I - I tried to think. Finally, the fog cleared away enough
so I could figure out what to do. Seemed hours later that I got to my feet. I
staggered out to the other room where I'd been working at my typewriter. I
should do something, I knew. But what should I do? My mind wouldn't work.
(MUSIC ... IN BG)
WRITER: I wanted to go after them but something stopped me. Something wouldn't
let me go. I - I didn't know what it was. Something was making noise through
the ringing in my ears. What - was it?
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACKING IN DISTANCE, GROWS LOUDER AS MUSIC FADES)
(MUSIC ... OUT)
WRITER: And, at last, I recognized the sound. It was my typewriter. I fell
down as I staggered across to it. I - I crawled the rest of the way. Forced
myself to read the paper. The keys were tapping away, and slowly, painfully, I
read the words: (READS) "Bring - me - to - life. Bring - me - to - life."
Bring WHO to life?
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK IN RESPONSE TO THE QUERY)
WRITER: "Me! Me! Me!" said the typewriter. "Me! Me! Me!"
And, at last--
(GETS IT) My pirate!
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER BELL RINGS A FEW TIMES, AS IF TO SAY, "YES, YES")
WRITER: Oh, come on, character. Come on, pirate.
And the typewriter clacked away.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK URGENTLY)
WRITER: "Hurry - hurry - hurry!" it said.
Painfully, oh so painfully, I got one hand on the keyboard. The letters were
blurred -- but I found them.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACK AS WRITER TALKS ALOUD TO HIMSELF)
WRITER: "Pirate - comes in."
SOUND: (DOOR OPENS)
WRITER: "Draws - cutlass."
SOUND: (CUTLASS DRAWN)
WRITER: "Sees enemy."
SOUND: (FOOTSTEPS)
WRITER: "Goes to rescue - through - French window."
SOUND: (GLASS SHATTERS)
WRITER: "Pursues - enemy. Enemy frightened."
MURDERER: (SCREAMS IN FEAR)
WRITER: "Wife knows - rescue coming."
RUTH: (HOLLERS)
WRITER: "Pirate - raises cutlass!"
MURDERER: (SCREAMS IN HORROR)
(MUSIC ... HUGE ACCENT, THEN IN BG)
WRITER: Yeah, I'm on bail now.
On bail.
Well, it was - it was pretty hard to explain a dead man wearing my clothes in
my garage -- dead from the wicked, slashing blows of a great sword, a - a
cutlass.
HARD to explain?
Heh, it's impossible.
You believe it?
I believe it.
Ruth believes it.
And that's the whole story.
Thanks, character.
Good night, character.
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER CLACKS OUT "GOOD NIGHT")
(MUSIC ... THEME ... FADE FOR)
ANNOUNCER: You have listened to "Bring Me to Life," a "Quiet, Please!" story
written and directed by Wyllis Cooper. The man who talked to you was Ernest
Chappell.
CHAPPELL: And Ruth was played by Helen Marcy. Walter Black was the murderer.
The man on the telephone was Warren Bryan. The music was composed and played
by Gene Perrazzo. And the character?
SOUND: (TYPEWRITER KEYS TAP)
CHAPPELL: (CHUCKLES) And now for a word about next week's "Quiet, Please!" -
here is our writer-director Wyllis Cooper.
COOPER: Next week's story is called "A Mile High and a Mile Deep." It's a
story about the copper mines in the mountains above Butte, Montana -- and the
people who work there.
CHAPPELL: And so, until next week at this time, I am quietly yours, Ernest
Chappell.
(MUSIC ... THEME UP AND FADE FOR)
ANNOUNCER: This program came to you from New York. This is the world's largest
network, the Mutual Broadcasting System.
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