 The Benner rehearsal has just finished and Phil is driving Jack home in his new convertible. He, this is a swell car, Phil. Really abused. That you like it, Dad? It's the newest thing. Boy, what a car you've got. Look at all the accessories on it. Phil, what's this button here, Mark 8C? Oh, that's the ventilator. Hot and cold. And what's this one here, BL? That's the light, bright and low. Geez. What a car. And what's this thing, Mark DB? You thought button? No, draft beer. Beer? Yeah, here. Hold this glass under it and press it. The button here? Okay. Holy smoke. Now press the button next to it. All right. All right. Well, I'll be darned. You've even got a gadget to blow the pole, Mark. What a car. Isn't it, Jackson? Look down at the gas pedal. Well, isn't that cute? A little brass rail. You know, Phil, I should have expected something like this. When I got in the car, I came through swinging doors. Hey, watch it, Phil. Don't drive so fast. Sit back, Jackson, and enjoy your beer. You'll find the pretzels in the glove compartment. I don't want any pretzels. Then you better stop. There's a red light there. I see it. I see it. There you are. Get your e-minus paper. Get your e-minus paper. Hey, look at the headline. UN forces advance. Paper, mister? No thanks. He, rough and tumble, wins Santa Anita Derby. Don't you want a paper, mister? No thanks. Daring daylight payroll robbery. Look, mister, if you like, I'll get in the back seat and read it to you. No, no. You have to be over 21 to get in this car. Drive on, Phil. I got a hand of the affiliate. This is really some audible deal. Yeah. Of course, after I got the car, I put in all them gadgets myself. Oh, how much of the car cost? I don't know. Alice never told me. Oh, Alice bought the car. Well, is it in your name or hers? Well, to be honest with you, Jackson, I don't know how she registered it. Well, who has the pink slip? Well, to tell you the truth, I... Wait a minute. Hey, Jackson, throw me that line again, will you? I said, who has the pink... Phil, you're passing my house. Oh, yeah, yeah. Well, so long. But, Phil, you didn't answer me. Who has the pink slip? Let it go, Jackson. You've got too much talent to be a straight man. Go on, Dad. Goodbye. Please. Yeah, Phil sure has a beautiful car. It's a new Hudson. It's the kind you fall down into. Yeah, da-dee-da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum. So, now, see my front yard this night? The turnips are coming out. The lettuce is almost ready to pick. The rhubarb makes it a nice head. Next spring, I think I'll... Easy, boss, easy. My house. Oh, gee, it's sure good to get... Oh, hello, Mr. Benny. You're home early. Yeah, yeah, right. Hey, how come you're sprawled out on the couch? Did you have a hard day? Well, I... Did you clean out the closets like I told you to? Well, after you left this morning, I thought it'd be a good idea if I vacuumed the rug first. Oh, vacuumed the... Right, the rug don't look as though they were clean. Well, before I got to that, I started thinking that the furniture ought to be dusty. Oh, oh, so you dusted the furniture. Well, uh... I was just about two when I got here. Yeah, they were awfully dirty. I'm glad you cleaned them. That was my intention. What? Then I started thinking that I ought to wash the woodwork. But the woodwork is still dirty. I know, after all that thinking, I was a wreck. Well, this house is a mess. Why didn't you at least scrub the floors? I didn't even think about that. Look, Rocha, I don't mind your skin. It's a mess. It's a mess. It's a mess. Rocha, I don't mind your skipping the chores once in a while, but I've told you a thousand times that you must dust the piano every day. Why are you so particular about the piano? Well, supposing the Coleman's dropped in here unexpectedly and saw dust all over it, they'd never lend it to me again. They're mad enough at me now. They're taking their milk from Adore. So when I ask you to do something, I wish you... Rocha, sir, why don't you answer the phone? I'm thinking about it. Never mind. I'll answer it. Hello? Hey, Jackson, ask me that question again. What? I couldn't stand it any longer. Go ahead, ask me. All right, all right. Who has the pink slip? Alice, I wear a blue one. The beer may be in your car, but the head is on your shoulder. Goodbye, straight man. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Serve me right for answering the phone. I thought it was Mary. Oh, by the way, boss, how is Miss Williamson? Oh, she has a little touch of the flu, but she's getting better. Hey, Rochester, I think I'll have dinner at home tonight. What's in the icebox? Oh, take a look. Let's see. Letters, blue bars, and 40 gallons of milk. Oh, is there any meat in there? If you want to count my arm, yes. Oh, stop. I think I'll just have some... There's someone at the door. I'll get it. You just stand there and sing, you know. We were dancing to the music of the tennis we won. When I stepped on Arthur Murray's big toe, dada-dee-dum, dada-dee-dum. Oh, hello, Mr. Benny. Oh, hello, Dennis. Come on in. Dennis, I thought I'd just have a minute to talk to you. Hello, Mr. Benny. Come in. Dennis, I thought I'd just said goodbye to you a few minutes ago at rehearsal. I know, but there was something I forgot to ask you. What? Will it be all right if I miss rehearsal next Saturday? I guess so. Why? I'm going to commit suicide. Suicide? I may miss the broadcast, too. Dennis. Huh? Dennis, how can you get such a crazy idea? I mean, why would you want to commit suicide? Well, my girlfriend told me she was through with me. Oh, well, maybe she was just teasing you. No, she meant it all right. She returned my engagement ring, my fraternity pin, and my skate key. Your skate key? Well, we've been going together for a long time. Dennis. Goodbye, Mr. Benny. It's been nice knowing you. Dennis, come back here. Huh? I'm not going to commit suicide. I'm not? Certainly not. You and your girl just had a little quarrel. You'll probably make up with her. Yeah, I guess you're right. Can I use your phone? Sure. Are you going to call your girl? So far as long, I want to cancel my reservation. Look, Dennis, you don't have to call them. If you don't show up after a week or so, they'll know you've changed your mind. I'm sure. If she's a third time, they'll think I'm fickle. Yeah, fickle, fickle. Now, Dennis, at rehearsal, we were too busy to go over your song, but I'd like to hear it now. What are you going to sing? Heaven can wait. Now, cut that out! And answer me sensibly. What are you going to sing? It's a recording of mine called, Baguilli Bagali Bagara. All right, go ahead. Sometimes he drives me crazy. Baguilli Bagali Bagara. Dennis, that was very good. Thank you. Oh, Mr. Benny, do you mind if I go home now? No kid, believe me, I don't mind. Goodbye. Goodbye. Oh, by the way, Dennis, I meant to ask you, didn't you just finish a personal appearance in Las Vegas? Uh-huh. I paid two weeks at the last frontier hotel, and you want to know something, Mr. Benny? What? They paid me more money for two weeks than you pay me in a whole year. Well, certainly, Dennis, but for me, you only have to sing one song. It's not so early to milk your cow. Dennis. Then I have to sing to her to keep her contented. Dennis, go home, will you? Okay, goodbye. What a kid. I wonder... I wonder what they did pay him for playing in Las Vegas. I remember they offered me... All right, Chester! Yes, boss! What was that offer I had from the Flamingo Hotel in Las Vegas? 50 cents a bundle! Rough drive! I don't mean that. Remember the time that... Come in. Oh, hello, Don. Hello, Jack. Come on in. Oh, Mel Blank, you're here, too. Yeah. Come on in, fellas. Jack, after your left rehearsal, Mel told me he had a great idea for a commercial on the show. Isn't that right, Mel? Yeah. A commercial? Yeah. In fact, he's been working on the idea for several weeks now. Haven't you, Mel? Yeah. What is this idea? Well, you know, Jack, Mel made a recording of I thought I saw a putty tap. And he thinks it would make a very good commercial. Really? Yeah. Oh, but he can sing it from memory. Yeah. Well, go ahead, Mel. Let's hear it. It's a battle bet. It's Wucky's suit to run. There's no what fuck no what is what not even in a tongue. I must ask Mr. Bennett when he takes on quite some pain. I've applied upon that whole life and here's what I would say. Twins, if you're not happy with your pleasant cigarette, it's time to change to Wucky's strike. Because Wucky's strike means fine to battle. That's why Wucky's tastes better than any other cigarette. So be happy. Go Wucky. Make your next car turn a Wucky's strike. Well, how'd you like it, Jack? Oh, I thought it was putty too. I mean, putty too. In fact, I... Don, I'm glad you brought Mel over. It was a good idea. Well, thanks, Jack. Come on, Mel. Yeah. You're hot, fellas. All right, Chester. Rochester. Rochester! Yes, boss? I'm going to the library and read a while. You want me up just to tell me that? No, Your Highness. I want you to make me a Santa. Okay. See, what books have I got here? The Different Santa's. Memory and Desire. How to Raise Kittens. How to Raise Pig. How to Raise Turkey. How to Stop Raging Rabbits. I'd like to read a mystery tonight. Say, here's one I don't think I've read. I was Co-Word. By Max Million Q. Langley. He's good. I think I'll read this one. Look at the dedication by the author. This book was respectively dedicated to my three lovely children, the Gilly, the Jolly, and Irving. How sweet. Page one. I was Co-Word. I'm in my massive walnut desk. In my luxurious Park Avenue office. Surrounded by all the symbols of wealth and secluded things that I... Martin Q. J. Blackstone. Attorney-at-law. Once sent an innocent man to prison. For life. I'd just come from court where I'd successfully pleaded with Richard Watson. I not only won her the divorce, but the custody of their 26 children. Was clever of me to think of income pattern. Well, here I am, Mr. O'Day. You sent for me. Yes, Sonny. I want to make out my will. Make out your will? Yep, and I've got a lot of money to leave, Sonny. You know, everybody thinks I'm an eccentric old man. Oh, I don't think you're eccentric, Mr. O'Day. You don't? No. As a matter of fact, you look nice in that French bathing suit. Thank you, Will. Let's get on with my will. Yes, sir. I'll start writing it down in legal form. I, Eugene Taprico Day, being of sound mind... That's a good one, eh, Sonny? To hereby will and bequeat. Tell me, what do you want on these, sir? To all my servants and to all the shopkeepers in the neighborhood, I want a lot of money. To all my servants and to all the shopkeepers in the neighborhood, I want to leave $5,000 each. I wanted to go to my butcher, my baker. Everybody kept my barber. I don't want to leave him a thing. Oh, you're mad at your barber? Yep. Yesterday he came in to shave, meaning he cut off one of my ears. Oh, that's... Wait a minute. You've got two ears? No, yes. To my wife, I want to leave $10 million in cash. My stocks and bonds, my yacht and my skate keys. Now, $10 million. How did you make all that money? I just played two weeks in Las Vegas. Oh. For my briefcase, I again started out for the O'Day mansion. It was a nasty miserable day. It was rainy. The wind was howling. Then it began to thunder. Good evening. Are you the butler? Yeah. Is Mr. O'Day at home? Yeah. Well? Yeah, but you can't see him. He's busy. What's he doing? He's playing Jin Rummy with his dog. Jin Rummy with his dog? Fido is such a bad loser. Well, if you'll sit down, sir, I'll tell Mr. O'Day you're here. After the butler left the room, I sat there alone with my thoughts, when suddenly a door opened, and she walked. Hello, Hanson. It was Mrs. O'Day, and she was young and beautiful. She looked like a million dollars, tied with a tight string for a lousy 35 bucks. Are you Montague J. Blackstone, my husband's attorney? Yes, Mrs. O'Day, I am. Well, tell me, Montague, how much is my husband leaving me in his will? Ten million dollars. Ten million dollars? And a can of circus peanuts. Oh, goodies. You'll be a wealthy woman, Mrs. O'Day, but, of course, it may be years before your husband dies. Not necessarily. He may go as soon as you think. Do you mean? Yes. Every morning this month, I've been giving him poison, arsenic, strychnine, toxic acid, and cyanide. Good heavens, how come he's still alive? Yesterday I tried to drown him, and that was my big mistake. Why? His swimming pool is filled with hatticals. Hatticals. When he came up for the third time, he looked wonderful. Love with her, then and there. To you, this may seem awfully subtle, but the producer just motioned to me that we're running late. Wasting any time, I decided to help her carry out her murderous plan. Come on, Monty, let's see my husband. He lives in his room playing cards. She walked down the long corridor to her husband's room, and I followed her. As she passed an open window, the breeze blew her skirt open. That's when I first realized who had the pink sling. Finally, we reached her husband's room and opened the door. Hello, Mr. O'Day. Hello there, Sonny. Hello, darling. We came in to say goodbye to you. Why, are you going out? No, you are. I killed her husband. I was appointed as lawyer, just as my writer's plan. I had no doubt that the judge would end. As I wanted it, I had no doubt that the case would end. Excuse me. Because my brother was the judge. But when the case opened, I was surprised to see another man sitting on the bench. I walked up to him and said, Pardon me, are you the judge? No, I am not. And now let's listen to some happy figure skaters. I furl and twirl upon my skates and do a fancy spin. Then cussies were dried in the ice for taste those lucky swans. That's right. Lucky tastes better than any other cigarette. I teach my friends a way to skate and give them good advice. Smoke better tasting lucky strike at home and on the ice. See for yourself. Lucky tastes better than any other cigarette. Be happy, go lucky, be happy. Go lucky, strike me happy. Go lucky, go lucky, strike me. You know it's fun to smoke lucky strike because lucky tastes better than any other cigarette. And here's why. Fine tobacco and only fine tobacco can give you perfect mildness and rich taste. And LSMFT, lucky strike means fine tobacco. Now if you're not happy with your present cigarette and a 38 city survey shows that millions or not switch to lucky strike. Puff after puff you'll always get complete smoking enjoyment. The perfect mildness and rich taste that only lucky strike can give you. So pick up a carton and prove to yourself. Lucky tastes better than any other cigarette. Yes, be happy, go lucky. Be happy, go lucky, go lucky, strike me. Remember, lucky tastes better than any other cigarette. The Jack Bunny program came to you transcribed. This is CBS.