The Venetian Blind Man
"Quiet, Please!"
Wyllis Cooper
NO. 27 (91) – "THE VENETIAN BLIND MAN"
WJZ-ABC Sunday April 3, 1949 – 5:30 – 6:00 PM EST
CHAPPELL: Quiet, please.
(SEVEN SECONDS SILENCE)
CHAPPELL: Quiet, please.
(MUSIC ... THEME ... FADE FOR)
ANNCR: The American Broadcasting Company presents "Quiet, Please!" ... which
is written and directed by Wyllis Cooper, and which features Ernest Chappell.
"Quiet, Please!" for today is called "The Venetian Blind Man".
(MUSIC ... THEME ... END)
AFTERNOON: Now, I very seldom make mistakes. In fact, I never made a mistake
in my life until a few weeks ago when I made rather an idiot of myself before
a large radio audience by dying. It embarrassed me no end, as Mr. Ivor Lambe
of London, England sometimes says, when I came to life again. Came to life, to
realize that I was not the victim of an aortal aneurysm as I thought, and that
I had not fallen a victim to what Miss Sissie Williams of New York sometimes
calls a tummyache. By the way, it is Miss Williams' birthday today.
You see, I had established something of a reputation as The Man Who Knows
Everything, and an episode of this sort does not do my reputation any good.
So, alas. Alas, not to mention alackaday.
By the way, just to refresh your memory, allow me to reintroduce myself. The
name is Charles W. Afternoon, formerly of Tarzana, California – My business?
Why I'm the Man Who Knows Everything. Isn't that enough?
What do I know?
Why, for example, it rained on Easter in Chicago in 1929. Lt. Col. Dewey
Seipt, of Salinas, California, was once a trumpeter in the cavalry. Mrs. John
M. Goar, wife of the well-known realtor of Pekin, Illinois, has a broken arm.
Her maiden name, by the way, was Ruth Epkens. A pair of oversize rubbers in a
closet in Mr. Wyllis Cooper's office were left there by the Reverend Julien
Mattern, of Perth Amboy, New Jersey. There is a small hole in your left sock.
Mr. John P. Marquand, the eminent novelist, is under the impression that the
Dusenberg automobile is a foreign car, while it was always manufactured in
Indianapolis, Indiana. And Miss Cecile Tragacanth, my beautiful secretary, is
listening at the keyhole of my office door.
(THE DOOR IS OPENED)
TRAGACANTH: I just wanted to know --
AFTERNOON: -- What I was going to say about you, Miss Tragacanth. You have
already heard. Yes, you may go out and get a cup of coffee and a piece of
pineapple upside-down cake. Just a moment, Miss Tragacanth, you lost your
purse in Car 6114 of the Fourth Avenue Local subway train coming to work this
morning. Here is a dollar, which you will forget to return to me.
TRAGACANTH: Oh, I'll give it back, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: Unfortunately, that is not true. You will forget it until Flag Day,
which is June 14th. At that time you will be in Vancouver, British Columbia,
discussing employment with Major Dick Diespecker of Station CJOR. After that
you will forget it permanently.
TRAGACANTH: I'm sorry, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: Now, if you will admit the gentleman who is waiting to see me --
TRAGACANTH: There isn't --
AFTERNOON: Oh, yes, there is, Miss Tragacanth. His name is Micaele Palmasoni,
although for reasons of his own, which I shall not go into, he prefers to call
himself Mike Pamson.
TRAGACANTH: Yes, sir. Come in, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: Grazie, signorina. Signor Afternoon, io voglio -
AFTERNOON: I know what you want, Signor Palmasoni.
PAMSON: Pamson.
AFTERNOON: Help Mr. Pamson to a chair, Miss Tragacanth.
PAMSON: Thank you horribly.
TRAGACANTH: De nada, Senor.
AFTERNOON: That's Spanish, Miss Tragacanth.
TRAGACANTH: Oh?
AFTERNOON: Mr. Pamson is Italian.
TRAGACANTH: Really? Che va piano, va sano, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: Whe va sano, va lontano, signorina. Non e vero?
AFTERNOON: Miss Tragacanth doesn't know what that means, Mr. Pamson. It was
the motto of her high-school class, but she hasn't the faintest idea what it
means.
TRAGACANTH: Did I swear?
AFTERNOON: You may be excused, Miss Tragacanth. And take an aspirin for your
headache.
TRAGACANTH: I forgot my headache.
AFTERNOON: I didn't.
TRAGACANTH: Thank you, Mr. Afternoon.
PAMSON: Mr. Afternoon, are we alone?
AFTERNOON: Except for the radio audience, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: I had forgotten them.
AFTERNOON: You must never forget them, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: I have a matter of great importance to consult you about.
AFTERNOON: I know what it is, Mr. Pamson. You are --
PAMSON: Oh, no! No no no no no no! Please!
AFTERNOON: I know who you are, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: Would you ask the gentleman at the organ to play a little louder, Mr.
Afternoon, so that we will not be overheard?
AFTERNOON: If you wish. Mr. Buhrmann, will you play a trifle louder, please?
(MUSIC: THE ORGAN PLAYS LOUDER....)
(FOR A FEW MOMENTS, AFTERNOON AND PAMSON ARE HEARD FAINTLY BEHIND THE ORGAN
MUSIC. THEN AFTERNOON CALLS OUT)
AFTERNOON: Thank you, Mr. Buhrmann.
(MUSIC: THE ORGAN STOPS)
PAMSON: (FINISHING A SENTENCE) -- I am in danger of my life!
(MUSIC: GOES OH MY...)
PAMSON: You stopped too soon, Mr. Buhrmann.
(MUSIC: BEGINS AGAIN AND STOPS, AFTER A MOMENT THE SAME WAY...)
PAMSON: --I am in danger of my life.
AFTERNOON: Never mind, Bert. (AS THE MUSIC STARTS TENTATIVELY THEN STOPS
AGAIN) By this time we all know that Mr. Pamson is in danger of his life. Or
rather, that he thinks he is.
PAMSON: I am!
AFTERNOON: Take it easy, Mr. Pamson. Orville is still in bed.
PAMSON: I hope he falls out and breaks his neck!
AFTERNOON: You hate Orville.
PAMSON: I have reason to hate Orville.
AFTERNOON: So you say.
PAMSON: So I mean!
AFTERNOON: Mm-hm. Did he give you that knife scar in your intercoastal region?
PAMSON: Where?
AFTERNOON: Ribs. Knife-scar.
PAMSON: How you know I got a knife-scar on my ribs, Mr. Afternoon?
AFTERNOON: (GENTLY) Why, I know everything, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: Cospetto! Yes, he gave me that.
AFTERNOON: I even know who you are, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: (AFTER A PAUSE) Whisper it.
AFTERNOON: No. You are a Venetian, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: (RELUCTANTLY) I am from Venice.
AFTERNOON: You do not see very well.
PAMSON: I am blind, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: Then you - are the Venetian blind man.
(MUSIC: AN AWFUL ACCENT...)
PAMSON: Too late, Mr. Buhrmann. Everybody heard that.
AFTERNOON: And I am afraid I can't help you, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: You must help me, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: It can't be done. Goodday, sir.
PAMSON: You're not going to send me out to be murdered?
AFTERNOON: I am not sending you anywhere, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: But I will be murdered. Orville will murder me.
AFTERNOON: It is useless to try to entrap me into a statement, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: I will pay you large sums of money.
AFTERNOON: I already have large sums of money.
PAMSON: You know everything, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: Yes. I know everything.
PAMSON: You know whether I'm going to be murdered or not.
AFTERNOON: Yes, I do.
PAMSON: Am I?
AFTERNOON: I won't tell you.
PAMSON: You don't know.
AFTERNOON: Oh yes, I do.
PAMSON: No, you don't.
AFTERNOON: Mr. Pamson, I will give you an example of what I know.
PAMSON: All right, go on.
AFTERNOON: Your great-grandfather was Dante Alighieri Ravenscroft.
PAMSON: Yes. How do you know?
AFTERNOON: You will admit I am right, Mr. Pamson.
PAMSON: Yes, but what difference does it --
AFTERNOON: It makes a great deal of difference. Please go away.
PAMSON: What if I don't choose to go away, Mr. Afternoon?
AFTERNOON: I will take steps.
PAMSON: (SNEERS) You will call the police.
AFTERNOON: No.
PAMSON: What will you do, then?
AFTERNOON: I have my own way of ending this scene.
PAMSON: What way?
AFTERNOON: Don't you ever listen to the radio?
PAMSON: Certainly, but --
AFTERNOON: Well, then --
PAMSON: No - no - don't do that to me!
AFTERNOON: Will you go?
PAMSON: (FRIGHTENED) No --
AFTERNOON: Very well, then, I have no alternative. End the scene, Mr.
Buhrmann.
(MUSIC: TO END THE SCENE ....)
TRAGACANTH: My, that was clever, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: I thought so.
TRAGACANTH: Was he a scalawag, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: Yes.
TRAGACANTH: I just knew he was.
AFTERNOON: I'll do the knowing around here, Miss Tragacanth.
TRAGACANTH: Yes, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: Do you know something, Miss Tragacanth?
TRAGACANTH: No, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: I think you're a very charming young woman, Miss Tragacanth.
TRAGACANTH: How nice, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: What would you do, Miss Tragacanth, if I kissed you? What am I
saying? I know what you'll do. Lean over, Miss Tragacanth. (HE KISSES HER)
Thank you.
TRAGACANTH: You're welcome, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: I know what you're going to do.
TRAGACANTH: What?
AFTERNOON: Ask me to kiss you again.
TRAGACANTH: Please do, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: Very, very nice.
TRAGACANTH: Now I know what you're going to do, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: Eh?
TRAGACANTH: You're going to ask ME to kiss YOU again.
AFTERNOON: Why, so I am. If you please, Miss T.
TRAGACANTH: With pleasure, Mr. A.
(HE KISSES HER, AND SHE SIMPERS, AND HE STARTS WITH ANNOYANCE)
AFTERNOON: Oh, darn it!
TRAGACANTH: Why, what's the matter, Mr. Afternoon?
AFTERNOON: The telephone's going to ring.
(WHICH IT DOES, AFTER A SECOND)
TRAGACANTH: Who is it?
AFTERNOON: The Venetian Blind Man.
TRAGACANTH: Again!
(HE LIFTS THE RECEIVER)
AFTERNOON: Hello; Charles W. Afternoon speaking. Yes, Mr. Volcano.
TRAGACANTH: I thought his name was Pamson.
AFTERNOON: I know, Mr. Volcano. I know, Mr. Volcano. You don't have to tell me
that, Mr. Volcano, I know it. Yes, Good-by.
(HE HANGS UP THE RECEIVER)
TRAGACANTH: Mr. Afternoon, I thought his name was Pamson.
AFTERNOON: Volcano. The phone's going to ring again.
TRAGACANTH: Is it?
(THE PHONE RINGS, AND HE LIFTS THE RECEIVER)
AFTERNOON: Hello, Bud. How are - no, no, I'm glad you're feeling fine. Yes, of
course I read your article in the Atlantic Monthly. I enjoyed it very much,
Bud.
(MUSIC: AN ACCENT....)
AFTERNOON: Why, John B. Stetson University is in Deland, Florida, and there
are those who love it. You're welcome, Bud.
(HE HANGS UP THE PHONE)
AFTERNOON: That was Bud.
TRAGACANTH: Bud Volcano?
AFTERNOON: Bud Barry.
TRAGACANTH: Tell me something, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: All right. The County Clerk of Polk County, Minnesota in 1925 was
Minnie I. Boe. A-2 of the 52nd Troop Carrier Wing in the last war was Lt. Col.
Brice P. Disque Jr, whose father is a retired brigadier-general. Mr. Ralph
Morgan of B????? City is coming to NY on June 1. If you have six cups and six
saucers, in six different colors, they can be arranged in 720 different
combinations. If you had ten of each, you could arrange them in 3,627,800
combinations. They load fresh-caught mountain trout on the Santa Fe Chief at
La Junta, Colorado -
TRAGACANTH: No!
AFTERNOON: They do, too!
TRAGACANTH: That isn't what I wanted you to tell me.
AFTERNOON: I know.
TRAGACANTH: Well, tell me then. Do you love me?
AFTERNOON: There's somebody at the door, Miss Tragacanth.
TRAGACANTH: Oh, poo!
(AND THE DOORBELL RINGS)
TRAGACANTH: Oh, poo again. Who's that?
AFTERNOON: The Venetian Blind Man.
TRAGACANTH: Oh.
(THE DOORBELL RINGS AGAIN)
AFTERNOON: Let him in, please, Miss Tragacanth.
TRAGACANTH: (GOING) I don't understand how he can be -
(SHE OPENS THE DOOR)
AFTERNOON: How do you do -- I mean, good day, Mr. Volcano.
VOLCANO: (AT THE DOOR) Buena sera.
TRAGACANTH: Why, he's not blind, Mr. Afternoon!
VOLCANO: I have eyes to see you, beautiful young lady.
AFTERNOON: Will you sit down, Mr. Volcano?
VOLCANO: Thank you. (HE SITS)
AFTERNOON: Well, Mr. Volcano.
VOLCANO: You know everything, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: Yes, sir.
VOLCANO: Do you know who I am?
AFTERNOON: Yes.
VOLCANO: I am the Venetian Blind Man.
TRAGACANTH: He isn't blind, Mr. Afternoon, he's looking right at me!
AFTERNOON: I know, Miss Tragacanth.
VOLCANO: What I want to know, Mr. Afternoon, is --
AFTERNOON: Whether Orville is going to murder you.
TRAGACANTH: Why, that's what the other Venetian Blind Man wanted to know,
isn't it?
AFTERNOON: How did you - oh. You were listening at the keyhole.
TRAGACANTH: Yes, sir.
VOLCANO: What other Venetian Blind Man?
TRAGACANTH: He was really blind.
AFTERNOON: A Mr. Mike Pamson, who claimed that he was the Venetian Blind Man.
VOLCANO: I never heard of him.
TRAGACANTH: Nevertheless.
AFTERNOON: Be still, Miss Tragacanth.
TRAGACANTH: Yes, sir.
VOLCANO: I want to know if Orville's going to murder me.
AFTERNOON: I won't tell you.
VOLCANO: I want to know.
AFTERNOON: I won't tell you.
TRAGACANTH: Who's Orville?
AFTERNOON: You tell her, Mr. Volcano.
VOLCANO: Orville's the Boss.
TRAGACANTH: Boss of what?
AFTERNOON: Boss of the criminal underworld, Miss Tragacanth.
TRAGACANTH: He murders people?
AFTERNOON: Yes.
TRAGACANTH: Oh.
VOLCANO: Is he going to murder me?
AFTERNOON: I refuse to answer that question.
VOLCANO: Aw, come on.
TRAGACANTH: Mr. Afternoon said no.
AFTERNOON: Mr. Volcano, you will tell Miss Tragacanth the name of your
grandfather.
VOLCANO: His name was Cesare Borgia Nunno.
AFTERNOON: Make a note of that, Miss Tragacanth.
TRAGACANTH: All right.
AFTERNOON: C-E-S-A-R-E
TRAGACANTH: How do you spell, Cesare? Oh.
VOLCANO: Why do you ask that, Mr. Afternoon?
AFTERNOON: Because I know the name of the great-grandfather of the Venetian
Blind Man.
VOLCANO: Well.
AFTERNOON: I will know it when I hear it.
VOLCANO: My great-grandfather's name was Cesare --
AFTERNOON: Miss Tragacanth, the Venetian Blind Man is believed by the police
to be the sinister henchman, the killer, for Orville, who is sometimes known
as The Decorator.
TRAGACANTH: Yes, sir.
VOLCANO: That's me.
AFTERNOON: Mr. Pamson said it is he.
VOLCANO: He ain't.
TRAGACANTH: Isn't. Mr. Afternoon, why would Orville murder this gentleman, or
the other gentleman, for that matter?
AFTERNOON: You tell her, Mr. Volcano.
VOLCANO: Don't you know?
AFTERNOON: Certainly, I know.
VOLCANO: Well, because he knows one of us is a phony.
TRAGACANTH: You mean one of you isn't the Venetian Blind Man?
VOLCANO: That's right, lady. Listen, I'm him. I know all about Venetian
blinds. Look. They're a bunch of flat sticks, and they got strips to hold them
together, and then go up and down when you pull a string - like this.
(THE SOUND OF PULLING UP VENETIAN BLINDS)
TRAGACANTH: That's right.
VOLCANO: So I'm him.
TRAGACANTH: Mr. Pamson said he was.
VOLCANO: He ain't.
TRAGACANTH: Isn't.
AFTERNOON: Mr. Pamson is from Venice.
TRAGACANTH: And he's blind.
AFTERNOON: He says he is.
TRAGACANTH: He fell over the rug.
AFTERNOON: You fell over the rug this morning. No, that's right; you're going
to fall over it in about five minutes.
TRAGACANTH: Oh, no, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: You wait and see.
VOLCANO: Listen, Mr. Afternoon, does this Pamson know I'm here?
AFTERNOON: Of course.
VOLCANO: How does he know?
AFTERNOON: He's got a radio, hasn't he?
TRAGACANTH: Mr. Afternoon means that he's listening to us on the radio.
VOLCANO: He is, huh! Well, I'll fix that -
(THERE IS SUDDEN SILENCE, AND THE ONLY SOUND IS STATIC FOR A MOMENT. THEN
AFTERNOON'S VOICE CUTS IN AGAIN, THEN THE STATIC STOPS)
AFTERNOON: - musn't touch those plugs, Mr. Volcano.
VOLCANO: I'll blow his head off.
AFTERNOON: Really, Mr. Volcano.
VOLCANO: I'll fill him full of holes.
TRAGACANTH: Maybe he'd fill you full of holes, Mr. - Volcano, is it?
VOLCANO: Volcano.
TRAGACANTH: Like Mount Vesuvius?
VOLCANO: Worse. I'll burn him down.
AFTERNOON: Be careful, Mr. Volcano; he can hear you.
VOLCANO: All right! If you're listening, you - what's his name?
AFTERNOON: Pamson.
VOLCANO: Which?
TRAGACANTH: Pamson. P-A-M-
VOLCANO: All right, Pamson, if you're listening, listen to this. You show up,
and I'll fill you so full of bullets eight man and a boy won't be able to pick
you up. You hear me? (CONT. AFTER A PAUSE) I'll cut your neck from here to
here. I'll murder you, Pamson! You hear me?
AFTERNOON: Be careful, Mr. Volcano.
TRAGACANTH: Yes, do.
VOLCANO: Listen, Pamson, I dare you to come and face me. I dare you, Pamson?
You hear me?
PAMSON: (ON FILTER) Roger.
VOLCANO: (AFTER A PAUSE) Who said that?
(MUSIC ... KIND OF ELEPHANT WALK BEGINS FOR BG)
VOLCANO: I said who said that?
TRAGACANTH: I think it was Mr. Pamson.
VOLCANO: Well...
TRAGACANTH: Do you know what's going to happen, Mr. Afternoon?
AFTERNOON: Certainly I know.
VOLCANO: What?
AFTERNOON: Oh, boy.
TRAGACANTH: Is he coming here, Mr. Afternoon?
AFTERNOON: He certainly is.
VOLCANO: Well, I -
TRAGACANTH: How's he going to get here?
AFTERNOON: My goodness, don't you hear the music?
TRAGACANTH: Yes, but -
VOLCANO: Yes, but -
AFTERNOON: Listen.
(THE MUSIC COMES TO AN END, STOPS, AND A DOOR STARTS TO CREAK SLOWLY OPEN)
AFTERNOON: Look.
(AND PAMSON AND VOLCANO BOTH YELL IN FRIGHT)
VOLCANO & PAMSON: Who are you?
VOLCANO & PAMSON: I'm the Venetian Blind Man.
VOLCANO & PAMSON: You are not!
VOLCANO & PAMSON: I am!
TRAGACANTH: Gentlemen! Gentlemen!
VOLCANO: Listen, Pamson.
PAMSON: Sir?
VOLCANO: I'm mean.
PAMSON: So am I, Volcano.
VOLCANO: I kill people.
PAMSON: I bet I've killed more people than you have.
VOLCANO: How many?
PAMSON: Uh - twelve!
VOLCANO: Yaaa! I killed fourteen!
PAMSON: Well, you never killed your cousin!
VOLCANO: I did so - well, my second cousin.
PAMSON: I'm going to kill you.
VOLCANO: Well, I'm going to kill you.
PAMSON: You are not!
VOLCANO: I am so!
AFTERNOON: Gentlemen!
VOLCANO & PAMSON: Yessir?
AFTERNOON: Gentlemen, what will Orville think?
VOLCANO: Gee.
PAMSON: Gosh.
AFTERNOON: Gentlemen, I know the name of the great-grandfather of the Venetian
Blind Man.
PAMSON: Dante Alighieri Ravenscroft?
}TOGETHER
VOLCANO: Cesare Borgia Nunno?
AFTERNOON: No.
PAMSON & VOLCANO: No?
AFTERNOON: No.
TRAGACANTH: Mr. Afternoon says no.
PAMSON: Well, gee...
VOLCANO: Yeh, gosh...
AFTERNOON: You know what this means, gentlemen?
TRAGACANTH: Who is the Venetian Blind Man, then, Mr. Afternoon?
AFTERNOON: I know.
PAMSON: Volcano?
VOLCANO: Pamson?
AFTERNOON: Gentlemen, I will let you figure it out between yourselves.
PAMSON & VOLCANO: But -
AFTERNOON: Come, Miss Tragacanth. Let us retire whilst the gentlemen fight it
out.
TRAGACANTH: Yes, Mr. Afternoon.
PAMSON: Fight it out?
VOLCANO: Fight?
AFTERNOON: Come, Miss Tragacanth.
TRAGACANTH: Yes, sir.
PAMSON: I can lick you.
VOLCANO: I can lick YOU.
AFTERNOON: And gentlemen, don't forget to think a moment about what Orville
will say... and what Orville will do... After you, Miss Tragacanth.
TRAGACANTH: Thank you, Mr. Afternoon.
(DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES BEHIND THEM)
TRAGACANTH: I hope they'll be comfortable. Do you want me to take dictation,
now, Mr. Afternoon?
AFTERNOON: No, Miss Tragacanth, I want you to kiss me.
TRAGACANTH: Why, you know I will, Mr. Afternoon.
(MUSIC . . AN ACCENT)
TRAGACANTH: Well, what do you know?
AFTERNOON: Why, darling, I know when it's twelve o'clock in New York, it's 8
pm in Oslo, and I know that aspirin is acetyl-salicylic acid-ester, and I know
that television is here to stay, and that Norman Foster the movie director is
married to Sally Blane, and Loretta Young is her sister, and I know that
there's a hotel in Montgomery, Alabama called the Jefferson Davis, and that
????? Craig, the advertising man, was once a song-and-dance man, and I know
Burgess Meredith's first name is Oliver, and that you can get genuine
Schweppe's ginger beer in this country again, and I know that Lt. Commander
M.C. Kelly's name is M???? C?????, and Pete Martin's office is in room 300 at
the RCA Building in New York, and -
TRAGACANTH: Do you know what those two Venetian Blind men are going to do in
the other room?
AFTERNOON: Certainly I know.
TRAGACANTH: They're awfully quiet.
AFTERNOON: They're talking. They'll figure it out.
TRAGACANTH: What will Orville do to them, Mr. Afternoon?
AFTERNOON: Orville won't do anything.
TRAGACANTH: Won't he?
AFTERNOON: Oh, no. They'll do it themselves.
TRAGACANTH: Do what?
AFTERNOON: Listen.
(MUSIC: ... A QUASI-SOLEMN THEME FOR BG...)
TRAGACANTH: Music.
AFTERNOON: It's Bert Buhrmann again.
TRAGACANTH: He's playing sad music.
AFTERNOON: Wait.
(THE DOOR OPENS)
AFTERNOON: Yes, gentlemen?
PAMSON: Mr. -
VOLCANO: - Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: Yes?
VOLCANO: We discovered something.
AFTERNOON: Yes?
PAMSON: We're not either one of us the Venetian Blind Man.
AFTERNOON: Of course not. I knew that.
PAMSON: I didn't know he wasn't either.
VOLCANO: And I didn't know he wasn't.
PAMSON: Gee - Orville...
VOLCANO: ...he'll be awful mad.
AFTERNOON: Oh, yes.
VOLCANO: Well...
PAMSON: Well...
AFTERNOON: Good by, gentlemen.
PAMSON & VOLCANO: Good by, Mr. Afternoon.
VOLCANO: Good by, Miss.
TRAGACANTH: Good by, Mr. -
VOLCANO: Volcano.
PAMSON: And Pamson.
TRAGACANTH: Good by.
AFTERNOON: Oh, gentlemen...
PAMSON & VOLCANO: Yes, sir?
AFTERNOON: Put some papers down on the floor.
PAMSON & VOLCANO: Yes, sir.
(THE DOOR CLOSES)
TRAGACANTH: Papers?
AFTERNOON: Blood's so hard to get out of the rugs.
TRAGACANTH: Oh. Is Orville going to murder them?
AFTERNOON: Oh, no.
(TWO PISTOL SHOTS ARE HEARD)
TRAGACANTH: They did, too. (SHE OPENS THE DOOR) Oh, no. For heavens' sake,
they committed suicide, didn't they?
AFTERNOON: Of course.
TRAGACANTH: Well, for goodness sake. Now there isn't any Venetian Blind Man at
all, is there?
AFTERNOON: Somebody at the door, Miss Tragacanth.
(THE DOORBELL SOUNDS)
TRAGACANTH: I'll get it.
AFTERNOON: Of course.
TRAGACANTH: (GOING) They didn't get any on the rug after all, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: It always pays to be tidy.
TRAGACANTH: (OPENING THE DOOR) Yes, sir?
ORVILLE: (AT THE DOOR) Hello, Mr. Afternoon.
AFTERNOON: Hello, Orville.
TRAGACANTH: Well, for heaven's sake, Orville who?
AFTERNOON: Why, Orville Venetian, Miss Tragacanth.
ORVILLE: Why, yes, Miss Tragacanth. My great grandfather was Thomas Alva
Venetian, the inventor of the Venetian blind.
Why, what's the matter, Miss Tragacanth?
AFTERNOON: Orville, Miss Tragacanth is in love. Go away, Orville.
ORVILLE: Well, but -
(THERE IS A CLATTER AS THE BLINDS FALL DOWN, MISS TRAGACANTH REACTS)
TRAGACANTH: (JUMPS) What was that?
AFTERNOON: The Venetian blinds fell down, darling.
ORVILLE: Oh that's all right, Mr. Afternoon. I'll fix 'em. After all (LAUGHS)
I'm the Venetian Blind man, ain't I?
TRAGACANTH: Excuse me, Mr. Afternoon.
(A PISTOL SHOT)
Oh, no, you're not, Orville. Will you kiss me please, Mr. Afternoon?
(MUSIC ... THEME ... FADE FOR)
ANNCR: The title of tonight's "Quiet, Please" story is "The Venetian Blind
Man." It was written and directed by Wyllis Cooper, and Mr. Afternoon, the man
who talked to you, was Ernest Chappell.
CHAPPELL: And Dorothy McBride was again Miss Tragacanth; Pamson was played by
Carl Emory, and Volcano was James ????, Orville was Pat O'Malley.
The music for "Quiet Please" is obviously by Albert Buhrmann..
Now for a word about next week, here is our writer-director Wyllis Cooper.
COOPER: Before I tell you about next week's story, may I remind you that next
Sunday only Quiet Please will be heard at 3:30 PM EST - 2 hours earlier than
usual. I hope you'll listen to the story I have for you about The Big Strike.
CHAPPELL: And until next week at this time, I am quietly yours, Ernest
Chappell.
ANNCR: This is ABC, the American Broadcasting Company.