Out There In Radioland

"If somebody will just point the way to the dungeon..." Mike said.

King Hiram shook his head. "You boys ain't goin' back to that dungeon," he said. "It ain't safe down there."

"Gee, that's thoughtful of you," Peter said. "You're a nice king."

"Ain't safe for me, I mean," King Hiram explained. "You keep escapin'. And the zero hour is comin' up, so I ain't takin' no more chances."

"Within minutes," Smith said to the Monkees, "King Hiram will take over control of the whole world. As you can see, his private chamber has been converted to a broadcasting studio. He will soon make the announcement over the radio."

The Monkees looked aorund. There was now a large window in one wall of the room. Behind it, a number of engineers were seated at a control panel. In the center of the room was a gigantic boom, and attached to it was a microphone.

"It does look a little different," Micky admitted. He pointed. "Wasn't there a book on that table before?"

"A dictionary," King Hiram replied. "I had it removed; it was a dangerous weapon." He held up a finger, displaying a bandage.

"What's holding up the show?" Mike asked.

"That ol' scientist," Princess Ellie Jo said peevishly. "I just never seen such a dawdler in all my born days!"

Smith nodded toward a third door. "Dr. Von Durfull has The Button in the antechamber," he said.

"Not no more," King Hiram said.

"He's gone?" Smith responded, surprised.

"He ain't gone. But that ain't the antechamber no more," the king said. "It's the anteradio studio." He turned to the Monkees. "He's in there takin' The Button apart to find out what makes it tick," he said.

"Maybe there's a watch in it," Peter suggested.

"We'll soon know," Smith said, "Dr. Von Durfull will be finished very shortly."

"What does he care how it works as long as it does work?" Mike asked.

Smith looked uncomfortable. "It wouldn't matter to us," he said. "But some of the heads of state of the other countries insist on knowing."

"Soreheads!" King Hiram grumbled.

"You see, as a courtesy, we sent out notices of the take-over to the heads of state," Smith explained. "But, instead of going along, as any well-mannered head of state would do, some of them voiced some doubts about The Button."

"They said, 'How do we know it'll work?'" King Hiram muttered. "Talk about nerve!"

"You should have just punched it and blown them up," Davy said. "It would have served them right."

"We were in kind of a bind on that," Smith said. "If we'd blown them up, there wouldn't have been any world left to take over, would there?"

"And I would've lost my sponsor," King Hiram said.

Mike blinked at him. "Your announcement of the take-over of the world is sponsored?" he asked.

"Big outfit that makes world globes," King Hiram replied. "It's a natural tie-in."

Smith looked at his watch. "What's keeping Von Durfull?" he said anxiously. "We're coming up on air time."

"What exactly is Dr. Von Durfull doing?" Mike asked.

"He's takin' that ol' button apart part by part," Princess Ellie Jo replied. "Thataway, he's gonna find out what makes it work. Then Paw can tell it to all them doubtin' Thomases."

"I'm feelin' a little sick-sick in my tum-tum," King Hiram complained.

"Stagefright," Smith diagnosed. "You'd better lie down."

King Hiram went to the bed and stretched out.

Princess Ellie Jo departed to get her father some seltzer.

At that moment, the sponsor appeared in the engineer's booth, and Smith went to talk to him.

The Monkees were left alone.

"Anybody have any ideas?" Mike asked.

"I think we ought to try to get a couple minutes on King Hiram's program," Peter said. "The whole world will be listening. We could use that kind of exposure."

"I was thinking more about an idea to get The Button back," Mike said.

"We could rush the anteradio studio, overpower Dr. Von Durfull, retrieve The Button, then flee," Micky said.

"There are guards at one door and soldiers at the other," Davy pointed out.

"We could jump out an anteradio studio window," Micky said.

"We're three stories up," Mike said.

"Then it'll take a little longer," Micky said. "First, we'll have to get the bulldozers in and remove the first two stories, dropping the third story to the ground floor. Then---"

"We'd never make it," Mike said. "It's almost air time."

"How's this?" Peter suggested. "While King Hiram is on the air, I'll stand behind him shaking my head. Then the audience will think it's all a hoax. And if nobody pays any attention to the announcement, life will go on as it always has before."

"Great--- except for one minor thing," Micky said. "This is radio, not television. The audience wouldn't see you."

"Not even if they got up close to their sets?"

"We might as well face it," Mike said gloomily. "We're licked."

At that moment, H.P.I. Smith returned from the engineer's booth. He was accompanied by the sponsor, a large, potbellied, balding man who was puffing on a long black cigar. Smith introduced him to the Monkees.

"Congratulations," Mike said to the sponsor. "It looks like you've got a hit on your hands."

"I don't know," the sponsor said worriedly. "It's a little risky, sponsorwise. Taking over the entire world.... It's never been done before. I'm worried about how the audience will react. I'm gonna get letters, I'm sure of it."

"If you get letters, you just let King Hiram know about it," Smith said. "He'll have the letter writers tossed in the dungeon."

"That don't sell world globes," the sponsor grumbled.

"Here's an idea," Mike said. "Instead of putting the program on the air, why don't you film it and then keep it in storage for a couple of years? In time, you could bring it out as an old movie."

"Say..." the sponsor replied, brightening.

"King Hiram would never accept that," Smith said.

The sponsor clouded over again. "Stars!" he muttered. "They can never see the businessman's point of view."

Princess Ellie Jo came back into the room. She delivered the seltzer to her father and then joined the group that included the Monkees, Smith, and the sponsor.

"I'm the one who needs that tum-tum stuff," the sponsor said. "I've got a lot of eggs riding on this show."

"You look troubled, dumplin'," the princess said sympathetically. "How's that? You're gonna get the highest Nielson in the whole history of show business."

"Hah! But how'll it go down imagewise? That's the question," the sponsor said. "A take-over is always controversial. I just wish the space program was further along. I'd like to try this show out on Mars before it plays Earth."

King Hiram sat up. "What's keeping that clod with The Button?" he complained.

"I'll check on him, Your Higness," Smith said.

He went to the door of the anteradio studio and knocked. There was no response. He knocked again. Again, there was no reply. Smith put an ear to the door.

"What's going on!" King Hiram roared.

"I think I hear weeping," Smith reported. He opened the door and looked in. "I heard weeping," he said.

Smith disappeared into the anteradio studio.

The king jumped up and followed him.

The Monkees and the sponsor tagged after them.

They found Dr. Von Durfull seated at a worktable, his face buried in his arms, sobbing. Spread out on the table were a great number of small parts.

"Stop that!" King Hiram raged. "If there's anything I can't stand, it's a cry-baby scientist!"

Dr. Von Durfull raised his head. He dried his tears.

"How's it goin'?" King Hiram asked cautiously.

"I'll give you a hint," Dr. Von Durfull replied. "After today, you can go back to calling me Dr. Von Schnook."

"You mean you haven't figured out yet how it works?" Smith said.

"I can give you a general idea how it used to work," Von Schnook replied.

"How?"

"You pushed down on the top."

"Excuse me for insinuating myself into a situation that's basically not really any of my concern," Mike said to Dr. Von Schnook. "But did you say 'used to' work?"

"That was a slip of the tongue," Smith said hopefully.

"It was a slip of the fingers," Dr. Von Schnook corrected him. "I got The Button apart, but I can't get it back together. Good-bye, Button."

"Outrage!" the sponsor roared. "I paid good eggs for this show, and it's supposed to include The Button. I've been had! I'll take this to the Supreme Court!"

"I can save you some time," Micky said. "The verdict is 'Guilty.' Where you made your mistake was when you complained about being swindled."

"Hold on!" King Hiram said. "Ain't nobody been swindled--- yet. The trouble is, I been dependin' on a dumb-headed overeducated scientist. Them's the kind that don't know nothin'. What this calls for is some good ol' everyday, common, ordinary common sense. Anybody can put a button back together if he don't know what he's doin'!"

"Of course!" Micky agreed. "Some of the greatest inventions of all time have been developed by good ol' everyday, common, ordinary tinkerers. Look at the Wright brothers. They thought that they were building the world's biggest fan."

"And then, all of a sudden, there it was--- the paddle-wheel river boat!" Peter said.

"Quiet!" King Hiram shouted. He picked up a part from the table. "I got to get this dingus put back together before air time."

"Could you use some help?" Micky asked. "I once took a wrist watch apart and put it back together again."

"Perfect?" King Hiram asked warily.

"I'm not sure," Micky replied. "Does Micky Mouse wear gloves on his ears?"

"I'll lend a hand, too," Mike said. He picked up a part. "This looks like a frabbis," he said, studying it. "If I remmber right, a frabbis connects to a blipp."

"To a blipp!" Davy said scornfully. "You attach a frabbis to a blipp and you know what you'll get? You'll geta frippus, that's what you'll get. That's probably the whole problem, as it is; somebody's connected a frabbis to a blipp. Boy, are you guys lucky I'm here!" he said, shoving the others aside and stepping up to the table. "I'm probably the only person in Bellevue who knows better than to--- Hey!" he said, beaming. "Look here!" He picked up a part. "Here's the crank to Uncle Harry's electric ice-cream freezer! He's been wondering for years where it had got to!"

"Get out of my way!" King Hiram raged.

Davy chucked the part he had picked up out the nearest window.

"Now, what'd you do that for?" King Hiram exploded.

"Uncle Harry's down there waiting for it," Davy explained.

"Been down there for years," Mike comfirmed. "I was talking to him just yesterday. 'Frank,' he said---"

"Why did he call you Frank?" Davy asked, puzzled.

"Isn't that my name?" Mike asked.

"Oh, sure, that's your name," Davy replied. "But I didn't know Uncle Harry knew it."

"Come to think of it, I didn't either." Mike scowled. "You know, I'll bet that wasn't your Uncle Harry I was talking to."

"Was he a short, tall man with a fat, skinny build and standing on one foot?" Davy asked.

"Which foot?"

"Middle."

"No," Mike replied. "This was a tall, short guy with a purple mustache."

"Aha!" Davy exclaimed. "And it was Monday. Right?"

"You know who it was?"

"Of course! It was Aunt Bessie. She always stands in for Uncle Harry on Mondays."

"Are you two funny talkin' boys finished?" King Hiram inquired. "If you are, will you get away from my table and let me get at them button parts?"

"Clear the way!" Mike shouted.

"That's better," King Hiram said, moving up to the table.

"We'll just tidy up for you so you'll have room to work," Mike said. He picked up a handful of parts and tossed them out another window. "Better?" he asked, smiling.

King Hiram turned, without a word, and clomped wearily from the room.

The others moved to the doorway and looked into the radio studio. King Hiram was stretched out on the bed.

Princess Ellie Jo entered the radio studio from the corridor. She was carrying an ice bag, which she placed on her father's brow.

"I went to get it when I heard that dumb ol' scientist was cryin'," she explained. "I just knew it was gonna turn out this way."

The sponsor stormed over to the bed and shook his fist in King Hiram's face. "I demand my egg's worth!" he demanded. "You sold me a show. If the show don't go on, I'll have you blacklisted in every radio studio in the world! You'll never practice show biz again!"

"Have pity, fella," King Hiram pleaded. "I've got a head like the Fourth of July. Tell you what I'll do," he said. "'Stead of that show I promised you, I'll execute them four boys that's the cause of all this trouble. Will that suit you?"

"That don't sell world globes!" the sponsor screamed.

"If getting executed won't help, maybe we could do something else," Mike suggested.

"Shhh!" Micky said. "Don't be too eager. Let's hold out for our top price--- the execution."

"This is a crisis," Davy said. "We can get executed anytime. I say we ought to settle for something less. This one time, anyway."

"If we do it once, we'll have to do it again," Micky argued.

"Well, you need a show," Mike said. "And, we're kind of entertainers. So, for enough eggs, we might be talked into going on in place of King Hiram and The Button."

"Entertainers like how?" the sponsor asked.

"I play and sing and these other three do an imitation of me playing and singing," Davy told him.

"Hey! That's good!" the sponsor said. "I like imitations." He frowned. "Unless they're controversial," he added.

"Tell you what I'll do, boys," King Hiram said, sitting up and removing the ice bag. "You go on for me and get me out of this spot I'm in with my sponsor, and someday, if you can catch me, I'll do something for you in return."

"You can do something now," Mike said. "You can trot down to the throne room and get our instruments. That's where we left them this morning when you threw us in the dungeon."

"Is that what them was?" the king asked, astounded. "The queen mother thought they was some new kind of pot. She had 'em on the stove all day."

"Good. We won't have to warm them up before we go on the air," Mike said.

The king hurried off to fetch the Monkees' instruments.

"Ain't this nice!" Princess Ellie Jo said. "Looks like we're gonna have a happy endin' after all."

"Yes, these fine boys, my fellow Americans and that one Britisher, have saved the world from nothin'," H.P.I. Smith said. "I'm proud of them. It's been an honor to have been on their side all along in spite if the way things might have looked at times."

"You didn't fool us for a minute," Davy said.

"I was a little suspicious of him there when he was yelling, 'Seize 'em! Seize 'em!' and chasing us up and down the corridors," Peter said.

"I was imitating the king," Smith said. "That's what he was yelling."

"Sure wish I could have seen that," the sponsor said. "I like imitations."

King Hiram came hurrying back in to the studio, carrying the Monkees' instruments.

"Easy," the king cautioned. "The handles are still a little hot."

Armed with their instruments, the Monkees stepped up to the microphone. The "On the Air" sign flashed on.

"Howdy, all you friends and neighgbors out there in radioland," Mike said. "First off, I got a little announcement to make. Due ot a whole lot of dumb luck, the program originally scheduled for this time will not be heard. The commercials, however, will go on just as planned."

"That's a nice boy!" the sponsor beamed.

"Now, if you'll just move up close to your sets and adjust the color knob," Mike continued, "we'll play you a tune or two."

The Monkees began to sing and the sponsor's smile grew wider.

"I like it," he glowed. "They sound a lot like that outfit on the TV, eh--- the Monkees?"

"They got a smack of sameness to 'em, all right," Smith agreed.

"Only better!" the sponsor declared. "The real thing anybody can do. But a first-class imitation like that--- that's talent!"