PRESIDENT CROESUS, SUPERSTAR! by Thomas Lipschultz
                            with Lee Brodowski
                             and Ozkan Akilli


           - =  Act One: The Crime Committed!  = -

              Cast of characters (preliminary):
-------------------------------------------------------------
Alpha Funk Omega G ............................. Ozkan Akilli
Grecian President Croesus ...................... Ozkan Akilli
Swedish President Urkelstivski .............. The Ill Prophet
Swedish Assassin "The Crowski" .............. The Ill Prophet
Croesus's liaison/messenger, Bob ............ The Ill Prophet
All oracles and prophets ...................... Lee Brodowski
Croesus's two "hired goons" ............... <male volunteers>
The three Selli of Dodona ............... <female volunteers>
-------------------------------------------------------------
Author's note: There will be music supplied by The Ill
  Prophet. This music will be computer-generated and recorded
  to tape, and a CD/cassette player will be brought in as
  a prop. Within the music, which will be somewhat like a
  mock Puff Daddy piece, there will be a woman's voice
  singing the phrase "Oh Omega G, I love you so, I'm never
  ever ever gonna let you go!" This will all be handled in
  advance, so no one need concern themselves with it. (:

--- SCENE ONE --- The Assassination

<Prop set: On the streets of Greece. Omega G's hit song,
"The Swiss Suck," is playing in the background.>

Music: Oh Omega G, I love you so, I'm never ever ever gonna
  let you --
Omega: <begins speaking as the music says "go"> Uh-huh, yeh.
Music: <plays on> Oh Omega G, I love you so, I'm never ever
  ever gonna let you --
Omega: <begins speaking as the music says "go"> The Swiss
  suck.
               (Crowski gets into sniper position)
Music: <plays on> Oh Omega G, I love you --
               (Crowski SHOOTS)
Omega: AAAAAAHHHHH, OH MY GOD, YOU SHOT ME!! <falls down> Oh
  sweet Heaven, here I come, yo...
Music: <plays on>
Crowski: I will not waste electricity. <turns off music and
  starts to walk away>
Omega: C... Crowski...! Y... you'll pay...  All of Sweden...
  will pay... <dies>
Crowski: It is you who have paid, Mr. G. I'm merely doing my
  job. Now, just to make sure... <shoots Omega 3 more times,
  then exits>

END SCENE ONE
--- SCENE TWO --- To War Or Peace?

<Prop set: In Croesus's meeting room. There is an empty
glass randomly placed on the floor.>

Croesus: Hired goons! Bring in President Urkelstivski of
  Sweden!
Goons (in unison): YES, SIR! <they leave, returning with
  Urkelstivski>
Croesus: President Urkelstivski, thank you for coming on
  such short notice!
Urkel: No prob, Bob. Got any cheeeeeeeeeese?
Croesus: No. No I don't. And Bob's not here at the moment,
  though I expect him back fairly soon. At any rate, do you
  know why you're here?
Urkel: Well, nobody REALLY knows why they're here, but there
  are many theories --
Croesus: Not THAT way, you idiot! I mean, why I've summoned
  you.
Urkel: Ohhhh, THAT. Yes, I know. You're upset about the
  murder of that rapper of yours, Alpha Funk Omega G.
Croesus: Yes, that's correct. We believe that the Swiss
  assassin Dravenski, also known as "The Crowski," is
  responsible for his death.
Urkel: Oh? And how did you come to THAAAAAT conclusion, pray
  tell?
Croesus: Three-thousand eyewitness accounts. It was on
  Mainstreeticus.
Urkel: <short pause> Oh. <longer pause> I guess that could
  apply. <short pause> But his lyrics were anti-Swiss! Heck,
  Dravenski killed him while his biggest hit, "The Swiss
  Suck," was playing! He DESEEEEEEERVED to die!
Croesus: How, exactly, do you know when The Crowski killed
  him?
Urkel: Ummm... lucky guess?
Croesus: Look, between Omega G's death and the death of
  B.I.G., rap music is on the decline. We demand one rapper
  in compensation from the Swiss.
Urkel: HELL no!
Croesus: Alright then, buddy. Your country's goin' DOWN!
Urkel: <stands up> See you in hell, punk! <starts to leave>
  <trips over glass and breaks it> <gets up> <looks back at
  broken glass> Ndid I do thaat?
Croesus: You must certainly DID. And that was my favorite
  glass, too. <turns to goons> HIRED GOONS! Please escort
  this doomed president to hell. Er, I mean, outside. Stop
  saying "hell," Urkelstivski -- it's catching!
Urkel: Why don't you just kill me?
Croesus: 'Cause then this production would be FAR too short.
Urkel: Oh.
Goons: <escort Urkelstivski outside>

END SCENE TWO

--- SCENE THREE --- Sending Bob

<Prop set: Croesus's throne room.>

Goons (in unison, from outside): BOB HAS ARRIVED!
Croesus: Well, what are you waiting for? Bring him in!
Goons (in unison): YES, SIR! <escort Bob in from outside>
Bob: Hidily ho, Presidentino!
Croesus: Hey Bob. Listen, should we go to war with the Swiss?
Bob: Uhh, I think I missed something.
Croesus: Yes, you did. President Urkelstivski sent The
  Crowski to kill Alpha Funk Omega G.
Bob: Who?
Croesus: <sighs and shakes head> Never mind. Let's just say
  that the Swissarinos killed a Greekarino, and I'm
  mad-arooni.
Bob: Well okily-dokily!
Croesus: So, do you think I should go to war, oh trusted
  liasion of mine?
Bob: Wellsir, that's a toughie. I say... maybe!
Croesus: <sighs and shakes head> Can't you be a LITTLE more
  specific?
Bob: No, I don't believe I can.
Croesus: <short pause> Well, do you know someone who can?
Bob: No, I don't. <short pause> Oh wait, yes I do:
  Delphi, Abae in Phocis, Dodona, Amphiaraus, Trophonius,
  Branchidae in Milesia, Ammon in Libya, and of course the
  moden prophets: Edgar Cayce, Nostradamus, and the
  wannabes of the Prophetic Movement of the mid-20th
  century: Willian Branham, Kenneth Hagin, John Sandford,
  Bill Hamon, and good ol' Paul Cain. How about one of them?
Croesus: Sure, but who ARE they?
Bob: Wellsir, they're the Oracles! From what I hear, they
  can predict the FUUtuure!
Croesus: Really? I see... you want me to ask one of THEM how
  a war against the Swiss would turn out!
Bob: <short pause> No, but that's even better!
Croesus: <pauses, looks perplexed> What were YOU thinking?
Bob: <short pause> Never mind.
Croesus: Anyway, I want you to visit each of the ones you
  listed, and ask them this, word for word: "What's Croesus
  doing RIGHT NOW?" Whichever one answers correctly will be
  my oracle of choice.
Bob: Yes sirriddily-diddily! I'll get right on it! I'll
  even try calling 1-900-ORACLE1!
Croesus: Come to think of it, let's speed things up a little.
  Bob, send your long-lost twin brother Bib to look into all
  of the prophets of the Prophetic Movement and Nostradamus.
  You take all of the oracles and Edgar Cayce.
Bob: Why are you giving ME Edgar Cayce?
Croesus: Because I like you.
Bob: Well okily-dokily!
Croesus: Excellent. One more thing, Bob... did your name used
  to be Ned, by any chance?
Bob: Why, yes it did! How'd ya' know?
Croesus: Oh, no reason. Anyway, I wish you luck on your
  travels, Bob. Be sure to report back to me regularly.
Bob: You betcha, Presidentino! I won't let you down!
Croesus: HIRED GOONS! Please escort Bob outside! And find
  his twin brother Bib, and escort HIM outside too!
Goons (in unison): WHY MUST WE ALWAYS ESCORT PEOPLE, SIR!
  DON'T THEY KNOW HOW TO WALK, SIR!
Croesus: Oh, shut the hell up!
Goons (in unison): YES, SIR! <escort Bob outside>

END SCENE THREE
END ACT ONE


Extra note:
  All throughout ACT TWO, Bob will be carrying a notebook. As
he hears prophecies, he will "write them down." In ACT THREE,
the prophecies will be reported to Croesus. ACT TWO will be
the single largest part of this play, comprising everything
of educational value. And now, without further ado...



               - =  Act Two: The Search!  = -

See next page.



























--- SCENE THREE --- Trophonius

<Prop set: The cave of Trophonius. Croesus is in the
background, back in his throne room which is somehow
visible to us. He is standing on one leg and touching his
nose with the pointer finger of his opposite hand.>

Bob: <crawls into cave> <huffs as if getting a workout>
  Wowzers! That cave entrance is pretty small! I sure hope
  the Oracle here gives good service, because he has a hum-
  dinger of a welcome mat! <walks a little> Well, this must
  be the spot-dittily-ot. So tell me, Oracle, what's Croesus
  doing RIGHT NOW?
<Two men jump in front of Bob. One is wearing a tag on his
  shirt which says "Greek," the other is wearing a tag on his
  shirt which says "Swiss." Both men dual in front of Bob.>
Bob: Well hidilly-ho, fightarinos! What might YOUR names be?
Man1: Greek!
Man2: Swiss!
<The two continue fighting.>
Bob: Well whaddaya know, these two guys are named after their
  nationalities! Ain't that convenient!
<In one last dramatic stab, the Swiss man kills the Greek
  man, then repeatedly stabs him while he's on the ground.>
Bob: Wellsir, this is getting a little too gory for me now.
  I'd best be taking my leave. You weren't much help!
<The two turn their heads toward Bob. Greek gets up off the
  ground, sighs, then stands on one foot and touches his
  finger to his nose.>
Bob: <chuckling> Well okily-dokily! <writes down his findings
  in his mysterious notebook> Toodly-doo! <leaves the cave>
<Greek man gets back down on the ground, continues playing
  dead.>

END SCENE



















--- SCENE TWO --- Edgar Cayce

<Prop set: The office of Edgar Cayce, a modern prophet and
dream-interpreter. He goes into sleep-like trances and
foretells the future, and has had a startling accuracy rate
so far. There's a couch in the middle of the room. Croesus is
visible in his throne room, flexing his muscles.>

Bob: <knocks on door>
Cayce: Come in, Bob!
Bob: <enters> Wowzers, you knew my name! Croesus sent me
  because --
Cayce: <interrupting> -- he likes you. I know. I saw you
  coming.
Bob: Really? But there are no windows...
Cayce: No, I mean I saw you in my mind.
Bob: <chuckles> Well okily-dokily!
Cayce: Let me guess. You want to know what Croesus is doing
  RIGHT NOW, right?
Bob: Wellsir, wowzers! You got it!
Cayce: Of course I did, I'm Edgar Cayce!
Bob: Yesundeedily-doodily!
Cayce: I will now sleep. I can't promise you that what I say
  will be relevant to your question, just that it will be
  relevant to your situation -- to what SHOULD be known. It
  will be a prediction of the future, and will be VERY
  accurate.
Bob: Well okily-dokily! I'll get my notebook ready to write
  it down!
Cayce: Yes, I'm sure you will. Goodnight.
Bob: Good-nightilly-nootily!
               [Note: "sleep" may be an eyes-open trance here
                so that the script can be easily read]
Cayce: <lays down> <sleeps for a few seconds> <Bob looks at
  watch once> <sleeps a little more> <Bob looks at watch
  again> <sleeps a little more> <Bob sighs, gets up, and
  leaves> <Cayce begins speaking in his sleep after Bob has
  left> I see... a very muscular man... showing his
  strength... to the world... and I see him... getting struck
  down... by lightning... from below... from the Swiss
  Alps... this man... can't last... <wakes up> <sits up>
  Hello? Bob? How did you leave and I DIDN'T notice? I'm
  clairvoyant! I should have been able to tell! <waits a few
  seconds, as if for an answer> <sighs> Ah well. <lays back
  down>

END SCENE







--- SCENE FOUR --- Amphiaraus of Argos

<Prop set: The shrine to Amphiaraus, the dead hero of Argos
and another oracle. He was forced into a war against Thebes
(also known as the "Seven Against Thebes") by a vow he made
to his wife Eriphyle, even though he didn't want to join the
army. He fled from the Thebans, who were intent upon killing
him, until Zeus intervened with a lightning bolt that split
the earth and gave him shelter. That spot is now this
shrine.>

<Croesus is beating his chest like Tarzan in the background.>

Bob: <entering shrine> Hidily-ho? <no response after a few
  seconds> Hidilly-HOOOOOOOOO? <still no response> C'mon
  Amphiaraus, where are you?
Amphiaraus: <walking in from the shadows> I am in the world
  of the dead, but I sense you have something to ask me, so
  I have returned for you. Speak!
Bob: Well okily-dokily! What is Croesus doing RIGHT NOW?
Amphiaraus: <long pause> <touches right hand to chin and
  ponders> Well, I dunno. That's a real toughie. Hmmm...
  <long pause> I sense that he's beating on something.
Bob: Okily-dokily! I'll write it down. <writes in notebook>
  Well, thanks for your time, Mr. of-Argos!
Amphiaraus: Toodily-doo! Uh, I mean, see ya'! <descends into
  the shadows>
Bob: <leaves quietly>

END SCENE
























--- SCENE FIVE --- Dodona and the Selli

<Prop set: In the mountains of northern Greece, at the spot
of the Oracle of Dodona. The three Selli [priestesses] are
standing around the central tree. They are barefoot, or at
least traditionally are barefoot. But these are rebel Selli,
and thus are wearing shoes and are very clean. Sacrilege,
but yeah well, what are you gonna do?>

<Croesus is in the background, on all fours. Randomly, he
barks like a dog during the rest of the scene.>

Bob: <climbs up to top of mountain> <huffs and puffs with
  exercise> Wellma'ams, you have a nice little hike to get up
  here. Who are you, by the way?
Selli: <in unison> We are the Selli, priestesses of Dodona.
Bob: <chuckles> Well okily-dokily! So where IS Dodona?
Selli: <in unison> This is Dodona. <point to the tree>
Selli1: The ornaments on this tree...
Selli2: The wind in its branches...
Selli3: The birds all around...
Selli: <in unison> These can tell the future.
Bob: <chuckles> Well okily-dokily! Tell me, then, what is
  Croesus doing RIGHT NOW?
Croesus: <in background> <growl> <bark>
Selli: <in unison> I will answer what I know.
Selli1: We must listen for the ornaments shaking...
Selli2: We must feel the wind on our bodies...
Selli3: We must hum the song of the birds...
Selli: <HUMMMMMMMMMM> <in unison> Now, for real this time.
  Silence!
<silence for about 20 seconds>
Selli: <in unison> We have reached an answer.
Selli1: The ornaments say that he emits a noise...
Croesus: <bark>
Selli2: The wind says that he feels with all extremities...
Croesus: <scratch for fleas>
Selli3: The birds say that he frightens them...
Croesus: <growl> <bark>
Selli: <in unison> This is all we can tell you.
Bob: <chuckles> Well okily-dokily! Lemme just write this
  down. <writes it down> Thanks a bunch! Toodly-doo!
Selli: <in unison> Toodly-doo!
Bob: <leaves>

END SCENE








--- SCENE ONE --- The Oracle at Delphi

<Prop set: Inside the Temple of Delphi, an oracle of Apollo,
where the priestess, or Pythia, awaits. Croesus is visible in
the background, doing jumping jacks.>

Bob: <entering> Well hidilly-ho Oraclino!
Priestess: I am not the Oracle. I am merely the one who
  channels the words of the Oracle to the English tongue.
Bob: Wowzers! You used to channel it to Greek, didn't you?
Priestess: Yes, but Greek's out now. English has a monopoly
  in the world of language, so I figured, when in Rome...
  er, Greece... er, you know what I mean.
Bob: Yesundeedily-doodily! Anyway, what's Croesus doing RIGHT
  NOW, if I may ask?
Priestess: You may. Our sacrifice went well this morning.
Bob: <chuckling> Well okily-dokily!
Priestess: Anyway, let's do this thing.
Bob: Hey, you sound just like my friend Moe, who owns a
  tavern down --
Priestess: Shut up.
Bob: Wellma'am, I'll be glad to.
Priestess: OK... I'm getting something... here it is, in
  verse for your listening enjoyment:

    Hi-diddily-ho
    It's up and down I go
    My hands come together
    Like two birds of a feather
    And then my feet hit low
    And then and then and glorius then
    I do it again and again and again!

  How's that?
Bob: <chuckling> Okily-dokily! Lemme just write it down in
  this here notebook! <writes it down> All done-diddily-un!
Priestess: See ya' later.
Bob: Oh?
Priestess: Yes. See ya' later. I guarantee it. <maniacal
  laughter> <backs away into the corner>
Bob: What a nice woman. Wellp, toodily-doo! <leaves>

END SCENE











--- SCENE EIGHT --- Abae in Phocis

<Prop set: At the temple of Abae, partially rebuilt by the
Roman emperor Hadrian after both the Persians and the Thebans
sacked it on two separate occasions. As another oracle of
Apollo, the oracle at Abae is just a plain, ordinary oracle,
except for the fact that people still consult it even
after the temple is all but destroyed.>

<Croesus is in the background, walking like an Egyptian.>

Bob: <entering> Hidilly-ho?
Priest: Hey, wassup!
Bob: Who are you?
Priest: I'm the priest of the temple. Too many priestesses in
  this production -- had to be at least one of me, huh?
Bob: Yesundeedily-doodily! So, I've heard almost NOTHING
  about you, Mr. of-Phocis. History has kinda ignored you.
Priest: Yeah, I know. It ain't cool, either. The only people
  who seem to even know about me are the good people of
  Encyclopedia Britannica. And I only get a paragraph in
  there.
Bob: Bummer, dude-arino! So, what's Croesus doing RIGHT NOW?
Priest: Look, I'll level with ya'. I really suck at this
  oracle stuff. Croesus's ancestor didn't like me, and the
  current President Croesus isn't gonna like me any better.
  I'm virtually unknown, and I'm VERY inaccurate. Or so that
  ol' King Croesus of yesteryear said. Damn, I hate that guy.
Bob: Well okily-dokily! Let me write that down! <starts
  writing>
Priest: YOU KNOW WHAT YOU CAN DO WITH THAT PENCIL?!
  <grabs pencil and throws it across the room at full force,
  being careful not to hit anyone in the audience (that
  would be kinda rude)>
  NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, CHURCH-BOY!
Bob: Ch... church boy?! You know who I am?
Priest: Yeah, you're Ned freakin' Flanders! Now get the hell
  out!!
Bob: <chuckles> Well okily-dokily! Toodly-doo!
Priest: Yeah, poodle-poo to you too, church-boy!
Bob: <leaves>

END SCENE
END ACT










--- SCENE SIX --- Branchidae, a.k.a. Didyma, a.k.a. Didymi

<Prop set: At the oracle's seat in Milesia, south of Miletus
in modern Turkey. Although burned and plundered by the
Persians in 494 B.C. or thereabouts, this sanctuary is the
home of another oracle of Apollo: Branchidae, also known as
Didyma and Didymi. Once the area went under the control of
Alexander the Great, the oracle's resanctification went
underway, and in something resembling a modern-day
democracy, a new prophet was elected annually. Little does
Bob know what he's in for here...>

<Croesus is in the background, sleeping.>

Bob: <entering sanctuary> Oh Branchididymai or whatever your
  name is... you HOOOoooome?
Clinton: <coming out from the shadows> Hey there fellow
  American.
Bob: American? Why, no-diddily-oh, I'm Greek!
Clinton: Hey there fellow Grecian. I'm Bill Clinton.
Bob: Bill Clinton? President of the United States?
Clinton: Used to be. Then I ran away with Miss Lewinski and
  decided to run for prophet.
Lewinski: <coming out from the shadows> Good day, sir. How
  are you today? Is there anything you... need?
Bob: Wellma'am, no there isn't. But I'll letcha know if I
  think of anything!
Lewinski: Please do, hotstuff! <blows a kiss and winks>
Bob: Yesundeedily-doodily! So, is the current prophet home?
Clinton: Naw, that was Acetosalicylicles [pronounced: uh SEE
  toe SAL ee SILL ih cleez]. He went out of office yesterday.
  There's an election tomorrow for a new prophet between me
  and James Bond. <muttering quietly:> I fear for my life.
Bob: <chuckles> Well okily-dokily then! Toodly-doo!
Clinton: Toodly-doo, fellow Grecian! You be sure to come back
  sometime and listen to me play some sax. Miss Lewinski here
  loves it when I serenade her. I think she'd be good at
  playing the sax. <long pause> But, that's just a guess.
  <long pause> Please leave now.
Bob: Okily-dokily! Toodly-doo!
Lewinski: Come again, hotstuff!
Bob: <leaves>

END SCENE










--- SCENE SEVEN --- Zeus Ammon in Libya

<Prop set: Again at the Giant Ouija Board. You all should
remember this oracle from earlier in the year, am I right?
Thought so. But did you know that the oracle may have been
inspired by the Egyptians, who performed similar ceremonies
for their god Amon-Ra? It's true. But now, without further
ado, here's the scene: there's a sign nearby that says
"Please write question and place face-down on the ground --
THANK YOU!", and a group of 80 men are carrying around a
large statue of Zeus (or Amon-Ra, whichever you prefer).
There are papers scattered on the floor. One says "Yes", one
says "No", one says "All signs point to yes", and the last
says "It is not likely".>

<Croesus is in the background, looking at his watch and
tapping his foot.>

Bob: <entering mountaintop temple> Hi-diddily-ho!
40men1: <nods>
40men2: <nods>
Bob: So, where's the oracle?
40men1: <whispers in Bob's ear>
Bob: Oh, so you're forty men? Wow. You're all very thin.
40men1: <nods>
40men2: <whispers in Bob's ear>
Bob: Wow, you too! That's in-credilly-edible! And I don't
  mean able to be eaten! So, can I ask you a question?
40men: <both sets point to the sign>
Bob: <reading sign> "Please write question and place face-
  down on the ground -- THANK YOU!" <chuckles> Well okily-
  dokily! <writes on a blank page> <tears out of notebook>
  <places face down on the ground> There you go-diddily-oh!
40men: <guide the statue in a zigzag for about 30 seconds>
  <stop at "All signs..." and point to ground by their feet>
Bob: <reading paper on floor> "All signs point to yes." Uh...
  I'll write that down and get going. <writes in his
  notebook> Toodly-doo! <starts to leave>
40men: <in unison> Toodly-doo! Oops... <bow heads in shame>

END SCENE













             - =  Act Three: The Decision!  = -

--- FINAL SCENE ---

<Prop set: Croesus's throne room. What else is there to say?>

Hired goons: <walk into room> <in unison> SIR! BOB HAS
  RETURNED! SHALL WE ESCORT HIM INTO THE CHAMBER, SIR?
Croesus: No, he can walk.
Hired goons: <long pause> <in unison> BUT SIR, WE WON'T HAVE
  ANYTHING LEFT TO DO THEN!
Croesus: No, I guess you won't. You're both fired.
Hired goons: NO SIR, WE REFUSE! WE WILL KILL YOU NOW!
  <advance on Croesus>
Croesus: HIRED FEMALE GOONS! Come here and subdue the hired
  goons!!
Hired goons: <in unison> HIRED... FEMALE GOONS, SIR?
Hired female goons: <entering> YES, SIR! WITH PLEASURE, SIR!
  <beats up hired goons> IS THAT TO YOUR SATISFACTION, SIR?
Croesus: Yes. Yes it is. You may go escort Bob in now. And
  take these corpses with you.
Hired goons: <in unison> NO SIR, WE CAN WALK! <get up and
  leave>
Hired female goons: <Leave and return with Bob. Leave again.>
Bob: Hidilly-ho, Presidentino!
Croesus: Bob! Good timing! Bib came back ten minutes ago.
  You just missed him. He said that all of the modern
  prophets were REALLY useless, and Nostradamus is dead.
Bob: Nostradamus is... dead? But if we're gonna be realistic
  here, then why is Edgar Cayce still in such good shape?
Croesus: I don't know. But Nostradamus is dead.
Bob: <long pause> Oh well. Anyway, I went to the oracles, as
  you asked. Here's what I found:

    Abae is a madman.
    Dodona is OK.
    Amphiaraus of Argos
    really wouldn't pay.
    Trophonius is accurate,
    if not a little weird,
    but Cayce took too long
    and didn't have a beard.
    No Didymi of Miletus,
    in fact he was not there.
    Ammon just said "yes,"
    and didn't seem to care.
    If you asked me what is best,
    Delphi is what I said,
    but I would go for Abae
    because he knows I'm Ned.

Croesus: Hmmm... I see. What about 1-900-ORACLE1?
Bob: Oh, I haven't tried that yet!
Croesus: OK... well, please conveniently leave the room
  and I'll give it a call on my hand, which I will first
  shape into a telephone-like set of fingers.
Bob: <chuckling> Well okily-dokily! <leaves>
Croesus: <dials his hand and puts it to his mouth and ear>
  <waits a few seconds>
Voice: <Bob from back, sounding like a telephone voice>
  Hello, 1-900-ORACLE1, first 2 seconds free, then one dollar
  per half-millisecond. Count Bellingsly of Goth speaking.
  How may I help you?
Croesus: What am I doing RIGHT NOW?
Voice: Speaking with me, on 1-900-ORACLE1!
Croesus: WOW! You're the most accurate of the bunch! You're
  hired!
Voice: Excellent. Now go fight the Swiss.
Croesus: YOU GOT IT! <"hangs up" phone> <stares out the door
  for a few seconds> <smiles evilly> <yells:>
  EEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHH!!! <runs
  out the door waving fist and yelling>

** FIN **