This is the only episode of Zombie Radio Show that was written, cast, rehearsed, but never performed or broadcast. Heh… Funny story…
We had a taping scheduled at our regular podcast place, and as was now our routine, we met at 5:00 at James and Dallas’ house in Hollywood to pass out the scripts, read it all through, take final notes, and pile into Dallas’ van t half mile or so to the studio, in a seedy area along the “Walk of Fame”– right near Kyra Sedgewick’s star, in fact. The building is locked against the barbarian hordes (or zombie hordes?) and we had to call once we arrived to get them to buzz us in. There was no answer, on either of the managing partners’ cell phones. No one buzzed us in, as the clock ticked towards, then past, our scheduled podcast time.
Finally, we heard from one of the partners. He was in Montreal. He’d been on the phone all day with lawyers. The company was closed, due to hinted at irregularities. There would be no more podcasts for the foreseeable future.
I was bummed– not only was I jazzed about the show, but I had gotten all ambitious with a music cue and was eager to see how it worked. This was for the “Papa Pep-oroni’s” spots. I found some peppy Italian music ala “Moonstruck” and was looking to try my hand. I think everyone else was disappointed– except for Joe Ochman, who knew that something was gonna get screwed up, and was feeling vindicated that he had been proven right so spectacularly.
We went out afterwards to a trendy comfort-food joint– kinda like a high-end Bob’s Big Boy with liquor– and ate and drank in celebration of the end of the ZRS run. We didn’t know when we’d be taping again. Turned out to be about early the following year. But when we started up again, it would be without Georgia and Joe. This was to be their last session, which never happened. They are incredibly talented, fun and smart people, and I’m thrilled that I got the chance to write for them and work with them.
Here’s the script thy didn’t read that night. Enjoy!
WZMB Jazz at Three – Ep. 205 “Zombie ‘Za” (Pino Presti)
Announcer: The following is a pirated broadcast from zombie-infested New York City.
Jimmy: Heyyy, all you Jazz Fans out there in the night. This is Jimmy Rudolph, coming at you live, not undead but live, from WZMB Jazz at Three. Broadcasting from the historic Tribeca Studios in beautiful downtown New York City, the greatest city in the world.
I think we’ve proven that in the past, but New York has never been greater than she is the greatest now. It’s not every city that could shake off an invasion by Satan himself, but New York has that can-do, oh-no-you-didn’t spirit, and we’ve sent the red guy packin’.
J-Bo: What are we gonna call Hell’s Kitchen now? Hitler’s Kitchen is in bad taste, and Hussein’s kitchen is just stupid.
Jimmy: My track player and protective layer Jamie Bogart, fans. J-Bo, since zombies were so instrumental in chasing off the Great Beast, don’t you feel bad for killing so many of them?
J-Bo: Pretty bad—but you should see the other guy.
Jimmy: See that, folks? That’s resilience. And New York has more resilience than we have bagel holes, manholes and potholes put together.
J-Bo: You left a hole out.
Jimmy: People said the City would never be the same, that the traditions that made New York New York, New York New York were dead. But those traditions are crawling from the grave and racing around with preternatural endurance and strength, much like the zombies that threatened them in the first place. For instance, pizza delivery.
J-Bo: Pizza delivery?!
Jimmy: There was a time, Jazz Fans, when pizza delivery service was too dangerous to continue.
J-Bo: Yeah, and that time is now.
Jimmy: A time when delivery guys were being devoured faster than a stuffed crust large Sicilian.
J-Bo: Many of the delivery guys were stuffed crust large Sicilians.
Jimmy: But with new weaponry and awareness training, pizza delivery is back. In fact—(phone dialing)
J-Bo: Jimmy, who are you calling—
Jimmy: Hello, Papa PEP-oroni’s? I’d like a pizza delivery—
J-Bo: Jimmy, no! The smell of the ‘za attracts the Zs.
Jimmy: A large with sausage, peppers and mushrooms—
J-Bo: Jimmy, you are dooming the delivery guy to a cruel, painful death and possible zombification, just to order a pizza you’ll probably never get.
Jimmy: You want anything, J-Bo?
J-Bo: Cheese sticks and marinara.
Jimmy: Cheese sticks and marinara. Put it on my tab. Thirty minutes guaranteed? Great! See you then!(click) See that, J-Bo? No more sucking down canned goods with your Barolo. You can get a nice, hot pizza delivered right to your door again, just like the good ol’ days. And that Papa PEP-oroni, he makes a great homemade marinara sauce—
J-Bo: Oh, my God. It’s a new sponsor. Is Papa Pepperoni our new sponsor?
Jimmy: Well… a little. And it’s Papa PEP-oroni. Pep, like fast.
J-Bo: Look, Jimmy, I beg of you—call off the ‘za. You’re gonna get the delivery guy killed. I know it’s hard for you, but a man’s life is at stake. Not only that, but your listeners are going to think that it’s safe to order pizza deliveries, and they’re gonna die, too. That means no more listeners. Try to see past the short term greed and keep an eye on the greater good. We have a Spam tin and a can of olives, we can make our own pizza. Please, Jimmy. Think about doing the right thing.
Jimmy: I’ll tell you what, J-Bo. I’ll think about it. But first, a word from our sponsor!
Papa: (Italian Music) ‘eyyyyy! It’s Papa PEP- oroni! You wanna the pizza? We gotta the pizza! We gotta the original New York pizza, dripping with cheese. We gotta the meat, we gotta the veggies, we gotta the spices, you gotta love the Papa PEP-oroni’s! You wanna eat in, you wanna take out, we gotta the pizza! You wanna delivery?… We gotta delivery! Trained delivery professionals, they bring it to your door, for justa fifty credit service charge. They killa the zombies, they bringa the pizza, right to your door. Papa PEP-oronis, she’s-a fast! You wanta the guarantee?… We gotta the guarantee! Thirty minutes or your money back! What more-a you want? New York Pizza, delivered hot, right to your door, you gotta the problem with that? If you gotta problem with that, I thinka you the problem, my friend! No, you!
Announcer: Papa PEP! Oroni’s! Pizza with everything… but zombies! Pizza delivery is back!
Papa: No, you gotta the problem! Bah fongoo! (End music.)
Jimmy: Mm-mm, I can hardly wait ‘till the ‘za gets here.
J-Bo: Tell me you at least thought about it.
Jimmy: Thought about the cheese, the sauce, the spices? You’re damn right I did. Here’s a little jazz, fans, while I get a napkin to wipe off the drool. Pino Presti, with the works!
Jimmy: Presti, Pino! We’ll serve you up another slice of that, but first, here’s a quick news update—Six were injured at La Guardia airport when a Southwest plane lost its landing gear prior to touchdown. It could have been a full scale disaster, but the fast-thinking flight crews acted quickly and spread a quarter-inch layer of brains across the runway. The sweetmeats soon attracted a flash mob of zombies, which acted as a nice squishy buffer for the disabled jet to crash-land upon. See that, J-Bo? The enterprising spirit is alive and well in New York City. In related news—fourteen passengers were killed in a non-airline related incident, when they disembarked from the Southwest plane and were set upon by surviving zombies.
J-Bo: They were the in-flight meal.
Jimmy: We all remember last week’s massacre up in Harlem, when, protesting the Zimmerman verdict, 157 unarmed activists were gunned down by the NYPD. To be fair, the police were well within their rights—they all claimed to feel threatened by the protestors, who were promising to “Overcome some day.” Yet, the controversy remains, for some reason. So with us today to discuss the NYPD’s actions is Sgt. Lusitania Cowbella, press liason for the police department. Ms. Cowbella, it’s a pleasure to have you on the show.
Lucy: Was that a threat?
Lucy: Because it sounded threatening.
Jimmy: Apologies. So, the NYPD is being sued by the families of the 157 dead protestors. How is the department responding to this litigation?
Lucy: Listen, we were threatened. They had us outnumbered 157 to 142, they were chanting, shaking their fists, you could see the anger in their eyes, and there was nothing standing in between us and them except for our riot gear, mace, truncheons, tasers and semi-automatic weapons. I mean, there were some Blackhawk helis, but they were yards away. We had to protect ourselves. Protect and Serve, that’s our motto.
J-Bo: Protect and Serve the people of New York.
Lucy: Yes, but you can’t serve the people unless you protect the police. Protecting our officers is the first priority. We believe this lawsuit to be scurrilous and opportunistic. It’s also a little threatening, to be honest. Word to the wise, shysters!
J-Bo: Hey, Cowbella, is it true you took the bodies to the morgue at the police station three days ago?
Lucy: It’s well within procedure. We need their bodies as evidence so that we can skew the reports—I mean, make the reports. Why?
J-Bo: No reason. I’m a huge fan.
Jimmy: Ms. Cowbella, Thanks for coming on the show.
Lucy: Whoa! What the hell is that supposed to mean?! You’re on notice, Rudolph!
Jimmy: Sorry. Take care. (door close) What was that about the morgue, J-Bo?
J-Bo: Those protestor bodies should be turning into zombies any second now, right in the belly of the police station. Looks like the chickens are coming home to roost.
Jimmy: Maybe we should call and warn her?…
Jimmy: Yeah, she’d only feel threatened. In traffic, fans, the roads are finally cleared after the disastrous visit last week from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The disabled cars and corpses have been cleared, and the flies have dispersed. There are still large piles of apocalyptic dung out there on the BQE, however. Each pile contains time-warping properties, so it tends to slow down traffic going West Bound, and speed up the East Bound lanes. Either way, it’s messy, so give yourself some extra time to get to work—like about two years—until road crews clean it all up.
J-Bo: They’re getting paid by the millennium.
Jimmy: In weather, the heat wave has finally broken, with some rain expected and temperatures dropping to a manageable 80 degrees. This is terrible news, as it makes the conditions optimal for zombie attacks, without snow to slow them down, heat to decompose them, or driving rain to shear the flesh from their bones. So be sure to include the machete in your picnic lunch, and sharpen the points on your umbrella.
Or, just stay in, and get your pizza delivered! Here’s a quick word from our newest sponsor!
Papa: (Italian Music) Eyyyyyy, it’s Papa PEP! Oroni! You wanna the special? We gotta the special! Getta the two large pies, delivered hot right to your door in thirty minutes guaranteed, and we give-a you the base-a-ball bat, absolutely free. Louisville Slugger, all wood, perfect for bashing ina the zombie head. Thata way, you can’ta complain when we show up with a you pizzas, and you gotta fight off a coupla zombies to get the door closed. ‘Course, ita leaves Giuseppi the delivery boy without a bat to get home with, but whatever, you gotta your pizza. Your two pizza. We ain’t making that trip for one friggin’ pizza. What kinda skinflint makes us bust our nut for one lousy pizza? Takin’ on zombies for the tip on one lousy pizza? And you probably ain’t even gonna tip if you’re only ordering a pizza! Friggin’ no class deadbeat.
Announcer: Papa PEP! Oroni’s! Pizza with everything… including a baseball bat! Pizza delivery is back!
Papa: And it ain’t about the money! I could wipe my ass with your money. Ah, Bah fongoo! (End music)
Jimmy: Ah, that ‘zas gonna taste goooood.
J-Bo: That’s what the zombies are saying about Giuseppi.
Jimmy: Now for a second slice of Pino Presti. Enjoy…
Jimmy: Fans, New York City is finding her feet after being roofied by the Zombie Apocalypse. But not everyone is thrilled with our return to normalcy. Some people think we should cower in the emptied hulks of our condos and apartments, eat canned goods amongst our own filth, and just cede civilization to the forces of evil.
Ralph: I don’t think that’s a fair characterization—
Jimmy: Not yet, I haven’t finished introducing you. Well, with me now is one such kill joy, the Vice President of the consumer rights advocacy group “Buy Right,” Mr. Ralph Tesco. Mr. Tesco, thanks for coming on our radio show.
Ralph: Thank you, Jimmy—
Jimmy: I mean, it’s okay for people to listen to the radio, right? They don’t have to just squat, grunt and make cave drawings, right?
Ralph: Of course not, Jimmy. We’re not against people enjoying themselves. But we’re seeing an unsettling trend in New York, with advertisers assuring consumers that the old behaviors are perfectly safe, when they’re not.
Jimmy: For instance?
Ralph: Well, okay, the studios were promoting their slate of summer films, and they decided to create an East Coast comicon last month at Grand Central Station. They used social media to market the event, claiming it was hyper-exclusive, and that the reports of zombies were planted by celebrities to keep the less dedicated fans away. Well, the event was a success—twenty-thousand people showed up from as far away as Taiwan.
Jimmy: So, you resent success, is that it? What’s the problem?
Ralph: The problem is that the news reports about zombies were not planted by celebrities. They were true. So when twenty-thousand people showed up to catch a glimpse of Robert Downey Jr., the zombies swarmed and attacked. Fifteen thousand people died or became zombies. We still got these Dr. Strange zombies walking around. It’s pathetic.
Jimmy: So a couple of tourists get their brains handed to them. It serves them right for being so gullible. New Yorkers are a little savvier than that, and they should be allowed to make their own lifestyle choices.
Ralph: Okay, there was that “Satan is Gone” farmer’s market at Union Square park two days ago.
J-Bo: That was awesome!
Ralph: Over three hundred people were slaughtered.
J-Bo: I know.
Ralph: They were assured by radio advertisers that the streets were safe now that Satan had submerged into the East River. But 14th and Broadway has some of the greatest zombie densities in the city. Businesses are misleading people that things are back to normal, taking their money, and then letting them die.
Jimmy: So what are advertisers supposed to say? Our product will get you killed? Do you have any idea what that would do to sales?
Ralph: Businesses should be on my side. After all, a living consumer is still a consumer. A dead consumer’s spending tends to drop off a bit.
Jimmy: Well, New York has zombies, that’s just a fact of life. It’s not the job of advertisers to tell people that the streets are dangerous.
Ralph: No, it’s the job of the media. But the media is sponsored by advertisers, and sometimes they soft pedal the dangers involved in these products.
Jimmy: Sir, that’s insulting. We in the media are public servants. We don’t turn a blind eye to our responsibilities for a quick buck.
Ralph: Okay, like pizza delivery.
Jimmy: Look at the time, Jazz Fans-
Ralph: It’s very dangerous! The smell of pizza is like catnip to zombies–
Jimmy: So pizza smells good! What a terrible thing for consumers!
Ralph: Pizza shops are swarm points. Even if they’ve been cleaned, the residue can infect even the hardiest topping.
Jimmy: I’m cutting off your mic!
Ralph: (over Jimmy’s Mic) Delivery people are top of the list for high risk professions, and we open the door to them–
Jimmy: No good, I can still hear him.
J-Bo: He’s right next to you—
Ralph: (over the above) And once we open the door, that’s when the danger really begins, because zombies—
Jimmy: Sir, what’s your point?
Ralph: Stop this ridiculous and insanely dangerous practice! Stop telling people that pizza delivery is safe, or that New York has improved enough to allow—
Jimmy: Stop pizza delivery? How about we just blow up the Empire State Building? How about we stop production of bagels? How about we change the name of New York to Bumpkinville and just call it a day, huh?
Ralph: We just want to keep people alive—
Jimmy: You want to take away from New York everything that makes New York New York. The brash swagger, the soul, the pace—the pizza! Well, I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let happen. I won’t.
Ralph: If you don’t call and cancel your pizza order, everyone in this building will die! Please—
Jimmy: This interview is over! Sir, I must ask you to leave the studio!
Ralph: Everyone, I want you to go to your phones right now—
Jimmy: J-Bo. Didn’t you screen the nut jobs?
J-Bo: Yeah, but you got the job anyway.
Ralph: I want you to go to your phones right in the middle of this sentence, I want you to go to your phones and call the pizza delivery company—
J-Bo: Where do you keep the handcuffs?
Ralph: And I want you to cancel the pizza delivery order now! Cancel the pizza delivery order now! Cancel the pizza delivery order now—(struggle)
Papa: (Italian Music) Eeyyyyyy, it’s Papa PEP! Oroni! Bringin’ you the besta pizza, righta to your door, in 30 minutes guaranteed! I wantcha to meeta my delivery boy, Giuseppi! Say hi to the folks, Giuseppi!
Guiseppi: Don’t make me go.
Papa: He’sa sucha kidder! Giuseppi here, he gonna take-a you pizza, hot out of the oven, and he gonna bring it to you door. All you gotta do is calla me, Papa PEP! Oroni, and eata the pizza whena she get there. People talkin’ say that’s too dangerous. Don’t sound dangerous to me. I don’t see no danger. And maybe there is danger. There’s also delicious homemade sauce, the freshest imported spice, sausage, pepperoni, vegetables, all topped with delicious, hot melted mozzarella cheese. You gonna give all that up for a little danger? Are you a man? I’m sorry. I thought you was a man.
Announcer: Papa PEP! Oroni’s! Pizza’s knocking—Let us in! Pizza delivery is back!
Papa: If you was a man, you woulda done it by now. Ah, bah fongoo!(End Music)
Jimmy: And we’re back, Jazz Fans! We’ve got the studio squared away, we’ve bound and gagged the consumer advocate and thrown him in the closet—
J-Bo: I’m not sure why we didn’t just kick him out.
Jimmy: Because, J-Bo, I want him to see that pizza delivery isn’t the dance with death he claims it is, and after we tip Giuseppi and send him on his way, we can serve him up a slice of pizza with some humble pie.
J-Bo: Or if he’s right, we can serve him up to the zombies.
Jimmy: Folks, since the Zombie Apocalypse, New Yorkers have adapted in new and inspiring ways. Cabs with ejector seats, Zombie Peep shows on 42nd Street, and the Radio City Rockettes Razor Toe Review, to name a few. Today we highlight a new trend, all the kids are doing it, called ‘Za Surfing. Welcome Trace Fleck, homeless teen and ‘Za Surf pioneer. Trace, welcome to the show.
Trace: Can I have this coffee?
Jimmy: Sure. Look, J-Bo, she’s hungry. So Trace, you’re a homeless teen?
Trace: Yeah. My parents got eaten on Day seventeen, and someone told the landlord.
Jimmy: You didn’t have any other family?
Trace: Yeah, I did. My aunt Rose came to get me. That was Day nineteen. Day twenty-one was Aunt Frida and Uncle Ross. My cousins Betty and Angus were Twenty two. Day twenty-three was my social worker. I lost count after that. Can I keep the cup? It would make a nice toilet.
Jimmy: Aww, you poor kid. Sure you can keep the cup. You believe this, J-Bo?
J-Bo: No, I can’t. Your mug makes a terrible toilet. I speak from experience.
Trace: …You can have your coffee back.
Jimmy: She’s just joking, Trace. But, uh, finder’s keepers with the coffee. So what is ‘Za Surfing?
Trace: Well, there was a while there where I had to sell myself for the night to creepy old pervs, just to get a little food, or I’d have to roll some drunk or pick a zombie’s wallet. It was tough out there. But then some company started pizza delivery—
Jimmy: Yeah, we were just talking about that. Isn’t that great?
Trace: Well, it was sure great for me. All these zombies swarming pizza delivery guys and eating their brains, and just leaving the pizza right there on the street! I mean, that pizza’s got all the four food groups. Meat and cheese and bread and meat.
Jimmy: Y’know, Trace, the honest thing to do would have been to take that pizza to the person who paid for it.
Trace: No way! They got insurance for that, don’t they?
Jimmy: No, sweetheart, there’s no insurance for undelivered pizza. The customer is just out his money.
Trace: Whoa. I didn’t know. Maybe selling myself for food wasn’t so bad. It was tough on my immune system, but at least there was some moral clarity.
Jimmy: Aw, don’t be so hard on yourself. Maybe there was no address on the pizza box, or it was covered in blood and gore. Anyway, nothing wrong with eating found food, especially if you’re homeless and hungry.
Trace: Thanks, Mr. Rudolph. I sure don’t want to be robbing people of their pizza money.
Jimmy: All is forgiven. So this ‘Za Surfing, you find abandoned pizzas and give them a home in your belly?
Trace: Well… that’s how it started. But the delivery guys started getting wise. They started surviving, delivering, and pizzas were getting thin on the ground. So, we started making things a little more interesting.
J-Bo: Something tells me I’m gonna like this girl—
Trace: We started smearing the delivery cars with brain juice, just to make sure that the zombies could find ‘em. And we tail the car on our skateboards, until the zombies attack. Then we take off with the pizzas.
Jimmy: Dear God!
J-Bo: I had a feeling I’d like this girl.
Trace: And if the zombies are a little slow to swarm, we let some air out of the tires at the red lights.
Jimmy: You monster!
Trace: Sometimes we find one of those midget zombies, and we toss it in the car.
J-Bo: Ooooo, you do NOT!
Trace: It’s a little slower, ‘cause the midget zombie has to go down the driver’s throat, and it takes a while for it to bust out again, and they may not manage it until all the Zas been delivered. But it’s worth it, ‘cause the explosion is pretty spectacular. Spread out like that, all red and white, the delivery guy actually looks like a pizza.
J-Bo: That is too awesome to believe!
Jimmy: You’re a monster! I can understand eating pizzas you find on the ground, but this is murder!
Trace: What can I say? Life in a dumpster has hardened me.
Jimmy: And your attack on the institution of pizza delivery is an affront to civilization! I want you to stop it, right this minute!
Trace: Hey, I couldn’t stop it if I tried. It’s a trend. All the kids are doing it. We got Za Surfing clubs, with awards for the biggest zombie swarm, closest call, most pizzas and an epic fail category. Everyone’s doing it, man.
Jimmy: If everyone were jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you do that, too?
Trace: The Brooklyn Bridge jump is so last minute.
Jimmy: How are we supposed to come back from anarchy and chaos if little turds like you keep messing with the infrastructure for your own amusement!
J-Bo: And food.
Jimmy: And food! Gimme that cup back!
Trace: Whatever, fascist.
Jimmy: I got a pizza delivery guy coming right now. What if one of your little friends decides to hijack my order, what happens then?
Trace: I heard you got Spam and olives. Lighten up.
Jimmy: Animal! Stinking animal! Trace Fleck, fans, and if you see her on the street begging for food—good. Get the hell out of the studio!
Frank: Take me with you! Take me with you!
Jimmy: J-Bo, put the gag back in… So what do you think?
J-Bo: I think you should call Papa Pepperoni, cancel the delivery and give him back his sponsor money.
Jimmy: Well, that’s not as easy as it sounds—I kinda spent the money.
J-Bo: On what?
Jimmy: I bought shares in Papa Pepperoni’s.
J-Bo: Jimmy, you don’t invest in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. You buy gold, shape it into sharp objects, and kill zombies.
Jimmy: It’s not just the money, J-Bo! I believe in New York, and I believe that New York will come back—once we get some reliable pizza delivery! After that comes Chinese, then Indian, then pretentious filmmakers will come, and run off the zombies.
J-Bo: By asking them to read their screenplays.
Jimmy: Can’t this be the new beginning, or the beginning of the beginning?
J-Bo: Can’t be. This is the middle of the end. Maybe the beginning of the end part of the middle—the popcorn’s gone, Jimmy, is all I know. You’re bringing doom and destruction to the studio, and you promised you wouldn’t do that again. Call off the delivery.
Jimmy: … Okay. (phone rings) Hello?… Pizza?… You’re actually here?… I’ll be right down.
Papa: (Italian music) ‘Eyyyyy, it’sa me, Papa PEP! Oroni. And I wantchoo should meeta the wife.
Papa: ‘Eyyyyyy! She been inna kitchen all day, puttin’ inna the spice, the wine, the tomato, all to make-a the gravy for your pizza!
Wife: ‘Eyyyy! We gotta the oregano, we gotta the garlic, we gotta the basil, we gotta the cumin—
Papa: ‘Eyyyyy, I tolla you, no cumin!
Wife: You make-a the dough, I make-a the sauce, get outta my kitchen—
Papa: You beena messin’ with that Puerto Rican again—
Wife: ‘Eyyyyy! We justa trade recipes!
Papa: Eyyyy! She’s a been workin’ in that kitchen all day with that Puerto Rican, getting’ all sweaty over the hot stove, changing her underwear three times to make-a the gravy for the pizza—
Wife: ‘Eyyyy, they don’t need to know about my underwear!
Papa: ‘Eyyyyy! I’m doin’a commercial! She make-a all this food for you, and you gonna eat it. So you get on the phone and calla the Papa PEP-oroni, and eat what Mama put in fronta you—All day inna the kitchen, and you only got a quarta sauce?
Wife: ‘Eyyyy, we been reading his screenplay!
Papa: ‘Eyyyy, I’ll screenplay him! I’ll give him a rewrite he never saw coming!
Announcer: Announcer: Papa PEP! Oroni’s! See what Mama’s got cookin’! Pizza delivery is back!
Papa: Even the announcer knows you a whoo-er!
Wife: Bah fongooo!
Papa: Bah fongooo! (End music)
Jimmy: Well, that wasn’t so bad.
J-Bo: (panting) That one with the roaches in his mouth almost had me. I thought he really had my number.
Jimmy: Well, look on the bright side, J-Bo— the building is secure, we’re safe, and there are fifteen fewer zombies to worry about.
J-Bo: I don’t know—I left the pile of corpses just below the air vent…
Jimmy: Ah, it’ll be fine. And fans, please welcome to the studio Giuseppi Pepperoni, the delivery guy for Papa Pepperoni Pizza.
Giuseppi: Thanks. You were awesome out there.
Jimmy: Thank you.
Giuseppi: I was talking to the munchkin.
J-Bo: Thanks. If you really want to thank me, hand over those cheese sticks.
Jimmy: Giuseppi, you’re just in time for my man on the street interview—
Giuseppi: No, I don’t wanna go back out there! Can’t we do it in here?
Jimmy: Sure. So, first off, you deserve the thanks of a grateful city for bringing civilization back to the streets of New York. Thank you.
J-Bo: In Jimmy’s world, that counts as a tip.
Jimmy: There’s been a lot of talk about how dangerous your job is, but here you are, with a hot pizza—well, warm. Ish.
Giuseppi: I have a warmer in my bag. I’ll put the pizza in, once the adrenalin shakes calm down.
Jimmy: What’s the craziest delivery story you have?
Giuseppi: This one was pretty nuts. I never seen ‘em swarm like that.
Jimmy: Are the ‘Za Surfers a problem, and have you ever run one over? If not, would you? I have a name…
Giuseppi: I don’t know, I don’t know!… Could I curl up next to the tied up guy? I don’t feel so good.
Jimmy: How many more deliveries do you have tonight?
Giuseppi: I got a run out to Staten Island later.
Jimmy: Staten Island? They’re all zombies on Staten Island.
Giuseppi: That’s what I told Dad. I think it was a prank call from my ex-girlfriend, but Dad says I gotta check it out. Oh, my stomach–
Jimmy: Eatin’ a little too much of the stock, huh?
J-Bo: Jimmy, you may want to step away—
Jimmy: Wow, he’s shaking really bad.
J-Bo: Security, get into Studio B!
(sounds of a body exploding)
Jimmy: Wow. Look at all that sauce!
J-Bo: Midget zombies. One of them must have gotten inside.
Jimmy: He does look like a pizza! What’s that crawling out of his lung?
J-Bo: Close your mouth, Jimmy! That’s how they get inside.
J-Bo; I’m trying, but he hid behind your scotch collection!
J-Bo: Okay, I think I got him trapped— (alarm) Oh, no—the zombies found the air duct!
J-Bo: Security’s down, security’s down—
J-Bo: Feed ‘em the consumer advocate.
Ralph: MMMMMMMMMMM-HHHHHHMMMMM! (zombie shlurping)
J-Bo: That bought us some time, but we still have to find the midget zombie and clear out the vents—No! They’re at the door! You and your stupid pizza-
Papa: (Italian Music) ‘eyyyyy! It’s Papa PEP- oroni! You wanna the pizza? We gotta the pizza! We gotta the original New York pizza, dripping with cheese. We gotta the meat, we gotta the veggies, we gotta the spices, you gotta love the Papa PEP-oroni’s! You wanna eat—
Jimmy: And, we’re back, Jazz Fans.
J-Bo: Some of us.
Jimmy: We had a minor incident here at WZMB that left two dead, four maimed, and fifteen missing, believed digested. On top of that, Giuseppi is no more, and Ralph Tesco has made the ultimate sacrifice for the rights of consumers.
J-Bo: It’s gonna be hard to get guests on for the show next week. The survival rate is so low.
Jimmy: But at least we got ourselves some pizza, delivered to the door. They said it couldn’t be done, and dammit, we done it. And now we’re gonna enjoy the sacrifice that others have made, and sit back with a slice of delicious, tasty, Papa Pepperoni’s Pizza.
Jimmy: That is disgusting!
J-Bo: The cheese is like cardboard.
Jimmy: And the sauce… is that cumin?
J-Bo: Didn’t you taste the goods before you invested in it?
Jimmy: Don’t talk… Gorge rising…
J-Bo: Those aren’t green peppers! They’re zombie meat.
Jimmy: You’re kidding me—
J-Bo: Look, they’re still wriggling. Great! Now I have to kill the pizza!
Jimmy: At least it was convenient.
J-Bo: Zombies are always convenient.
Jimmy: J-Bo, it was pizza! Delivery! It’s like saying you can walk through the park again, or it’s safe to pick up trannies in the meat packing district.
J-Bo: Jimmy, we’ll get there. One day, New York City will be safe to walk the streets again. But saying its safe doesn’t make it safe. Let’s not rush things. No more pizza delivery for awhile. Seriously.
Jimmy: I think I’m off pizza for the next few years. Well, Jazz Fans, we tried to live a normal life—and we almost made it. I guess the zombies are gonna continue to be a problem, so long as their necks hold out. But long after the zombies have outlived their radioactive half-lives, we’ll still be here. The longing for pizza will return, the deliveries will follow, and everything will be back to normal. Until then? We still have Jazz. Put on a little Pino Presti…
J-Bo: Really loud, so it drowns out the screams of the dying.
Jimmy: And you can almost forget there’s a zombie apocalypse out there. So if you want normalcy, just tune on in to WZMB, and don’t order pizza. The Spam and olives will do you just fine. This has been WZMB Jazz at Three, with your old pal Jimmy Rudolph,
J-Bo: And Jamie Bogart.
Jimmy: We’ll see you next week!
J-Bo: With a new sponsor.
Announcer: Zombie Radio Show will be back next Thursday at 7:00 pm PST on Radio Titans! Radio titans dot com. Find more zombie radio show at zombie radio show dot com. Follow zombie radio show on twitter, facebook and you tube. Aghhh!
Announcer 2: Brains.
Jimmy:(off mike)Hey, J-Bo, you hungry? Let’s order up a little Chinese!