ok, next on my list is… ¡kilroy! kilroy, ¿what letter will you pick?.
kilroy, with his arms held up to his sides in the awkward manner o’ a mild-mannered man who was not used to the attention o’ the all-seeing camera eyes said with a nervous titter in the back o’ his throat,
jack, i think — i think i’ll buy a vowel.
¿what vowel will that be?.
jack looked down @ his card.
there is indeed a few e’s in there.
on the board ’bove some letter flipped, spelling out the word “a __t a_o_e t_e _est”.
all right, ¿who’s next? let’s see… luann….
i’m thinking… ¿m?.
hmm… let’s see… no, sorry: there’s no m.
this foreboding phrase compelled the figure, wrapped up like a mummy, lying on the bed that was the stage centerpiece, to start moaning loudly thru its muffled mask as it tried to pull gainst its locks, to no avail.
as per cue, dr. vox pulled out his surgical saw, walked o’er toward the subject, held 1 o’ its arms, & began scissoring it, while the subject moaned e’en mo’ loudly & tried thrashing ’bout, which accomplished nothing but spreading the blood all o’er the stage.
that’s all the time we have today, friends. ¡join us tomorrow for ’nother exciting game o’ “sawman for a million”!.