Announcer: Tim Russell
MacGard: Gardner Key
Lady MacGard: Cricket Foell
Maid Sarah: Sarah Clarke
Lady Laurel: Laurel Springer
Lord Steven: Steve Schroeter
Prophet: Eric Parks
Writer #1: Heidi Ertel
Writer #2: Chris Farrell
Writer #3: Teg Smith
MacDeVore: Gary DeVore
 

Announcer: Good evening and welcome to Footlights Presents the Classics. Tonight we have for your listening pleasure a scrumptious feast of treachery and deceit. A veritable cornucopia of evil plots and wicked designs. Tonight, we present our own, modern interpretation of the great Shakespearean classic, Macbeth. Our story is one of a young vice-president of a comedy troupe, who, influenced by the foul advice of a power-mad young temptress, plots to slay the rightful President and take his position. Let us embark on our journey into the world of... MacGard.

MacGard: O my Lady, hear you the words of the prophet Eric? He speaks of my rise to the ultimate pinnacle of power!

Lady MacGard: Oh MacGard, you have it within your power to become King of All Footlights, controlling the distribution of parts and allowing those who were your most faithful servants, like myself, to achieve the greatness of actually receiving the blessing of worthy lines.

MacGard: My dear, you suggest a treachery most foul! The Lord Steven currently sits on the throne! To achieve the position I would have to ... oh, but it is too foul to even speak of!

Lady MacGard: Come my lord, be not so like the dandelion of the field, who allows itself to be trod upon by ugly men in heavy boots.

MacGard: What?

Lady MacGard: Don't be such a pansy!

MacGard: Oh. The plan intrigues me so... and yet...

Lady MacGard: Screw your courage to the sticking place, and we shall not fail!

MacGard: Yes, I see now that it must be done! Lord Steven's eyes will never again behold the dawn! My children will reign over Footlights forever!!

Maid Sarah: My Lord MacGard, I bring you a summons from the most high and mighty Lord Steven. He requests your presence for the conference of the scripting.... My Lord! You look so radiant and powerful! What causes this change in your demeanor?

MacGard: I go to grasp my destiny with both hands! The fair maidens of fate are even now calling my name! I go to usurp my rightful place from those who would hold it against me!

Maid Sarah: What?

Lady MacGard: He's going to kill Steve and take over Footlights.

Maid Sarah: Oh. Does this mean I'm finally going to get some decent lines?

Announcer: Meanwhile, at the Castle of Lord Steven...

Lady Laurel: How fares the conference of the scripting, My Lord?

Lord Steven: Even now we begin.

Writer #1: So, what do we do now?

Writer #2: I don't know. It is kind of dragging a bit.

Writer #3: Why don't we throw in a car chase?

Writer #1: We can't throw in a car chase! It's Shakespeare!

Writer #2: What about a sex scene? We could do that in Shakespeare. He did it all the time!

Writers #1 and 3: Yeah!

Lord Steven: As you can see my Lady, it fares not well. If only my trusted Vice-President MacGard would arrive. He, perhaps, could salvage the remnants of this meeting.

Lady Laurel: My Lord, I do not so much trust MacGard. He reeks of evil purposes. I feel the presence of a dark force which vibrates to the very core of my being and disturbs my soul which rests therein.

Lord Steven: What?

Lady Laurel: I think he's a sleazeball.

Lord Steven: Oh.

Prophet: Beware the Ides of March.

Lady Laurel: It is the prophet Eric.What say you oh wise prophet?

Prophet: Beware the Ides of March.

Lord Steven: What?

Lady Laurel: (whispering) Eric! Wrong script!

Prophet: Oh. (rustles paper) Beware the servant whom you trust most. He may be your undoing!

All: Poof.

Lord Steven: The prophet has vanished! What think you of his warning, my Lady?

Lady Laurel: I fear it bears ill tidings for the conference of the scripting. I fear that MacGard will betray you.

Lord Steven:  I think your wits to be somewhat addled. MacGard would never betray me. Here he comes now.

MacGard: Good day, my Lord. I hope you fare well on this day, for it shall be your last!

Lady MacGard: Yeah!

Lord Steven: Splendid! Please excuse my manners, most uncouth, while I turn my back to you and re-lace my boot so that I could not possibly avoid a dagger thrust to my back which would most certainly end my life and allow you to usurp my position making you King of Footlights forever.

Lady MacGard: Methinks the time is right for you to bring the blow to Lord Steven.

MacGard:  Are you sure?

Lady MacGard: Stab him, you weenie!

MacGard: Right. Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle towards my hand?

Lord Steven: What did you say?

MacGard: Hear it not, Steve, for it is a knell that summons thee to Heaven or to Hell!

Lady MacGard: Strike now, my Lord, while the moment is ripe! May your stroke snuff the candle which burns in the breast of our most hated person who holds the position which we wish to possess!

MacGard: Prepare to feel the cold touch of death wrap its fingers around your heart!

MacDeVore: Stay your hand, MacGard! I shall not allow you to perform such foul treachery while there is still breath within my body!

MacGard: It is MacDeVore, with his faithful companion, Spot!

MacDeVore: That is right, MacGard. Prepare yourself for the trip to Hell!

Lady MacGard: Do not fear, my Lord MacGard! I shall deal with MacDeVore myself. I fear him not.

MacDeVore:  I feel no need to waste my time with your paltry threats, my Lady! Spot, sic her!

Lady MacGard: No! Out, damn Spot! Out I say!

MacDeVore: Now I shall prevent you from taking the life of Lord Steven!

Lady Laurel: It is too late! He has slipped in a puddle and has died!

MacDeVore: Prepare yourself now, MacGard!

MacGard: I shall meet your challenge and more, MacDeVore!

(F/X: Fighting sounds)

MacGard: Hah! You missed!

Lady Laurel: Ah! I am wounded unto death!

MacDeVore: Oops.

(F/X: More fighting sounds)

MacDeVore: Hah! Your stroke is untrue!

Lady MacGard: Alas! My time on this earth is at an end.

MacGard: Damn!

MacDeVore: Even now your allies have fallen! And with this stroke, so shall you fall!

MacGard: So be it. I feel your stroke penetrate to my very heart. Even now the light is fading from mine eyes, and the cold hand of death wraps itself around my heart. Even now, I feel the heat of the flames of Hell, as my hour grows nearer. Even now...

MacDeVore: Oh, do get on with it!

MacGard: Right. I have fallen and I cannot get up. Auugh!

MacDeVore: Come, my Spot. We journey away from this place where men are corrupted and coerced into evil deeds, and their souls are cast into the Pit of Hades. The place where the dreams of men are turned into vile nightmares. The place where the hopes of all are dashed on the vile, pointy, nasty, sharp, not nice...

All: The end!

MacDeVore: Right. Sorry.

Announcer: Tune in for the next installment of Footlights Presents the Classics, where we will present the story of a young head scriptwriter who attempts to remove the lines of all of the female characters, called "The Tempest." Good night.