A Gentleman About Space 04 – A Chilling Account

Space Lord Cesar Salamander is ready to make some money with a new business opportunity and make some moves at the annual Veronica’s Hush Hush Lingerie Ball. However, his beloved Aunt Berthatrude has cut off his cash flow…and now it seems like to get back in the green, Sal will have to solve a murder. This Halloween spooktacular features disembodied holocalls, downstream nodes, and a particularly squishy encounter with a certain space detective.

AGAS is written by Matt Braman, and features the voices of Conrad Miszuk as Salamander, William Crook as QC Edgetest, Briauna Kittle as Det. LaFemme, and Kitt Keller as Dearest Aunt Berthatrude.

Music and sound by Matt Braman.

Scene One: Int. Space Mega-Yacht Narcissus – Spacetime


SALAMANDER: Q.C.Edgetest, can you hear me, old droid?

Q.C.EDGETEST: I can hear you, Space Lord Salamander.

SALAMANDER: Where are you?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Over here, Sir. Behind the stack of boxes.

SALAMANDER: Which stack of boxes?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Two rows forward and third from the left, Sir.

SALAMANDER: My left or stage left?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Your left, Sir. First follow the pathway to the right, then turn left, then proceed ten paces-

SALAMANDER: Nevermind. You find me. Keep an eye out for minotaurs.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I am unaware of any minotaurs aboard The Space Mega-Yacht Narcissus, Sir. Shall I run a security scan?

SALAMANDER: No, you fetid food processor. I am dangerously sober right now and Hades help me I will not be responsible for my behavior if you let me dry out. Bring me a drink. I do not care if you have to burn a tunnel to me.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Combustion would be inadvisable, Sir, given that the bulk of this vessel is currently occupied by highly flammable merchandise. I shall fetch your drink immediately.


SALAMANDER: What is all this rubbish, anyway?

Q.C.EDGETEST: The product, Sir. From your Polyhedral Marketing Membership.

SALAMANDER: Ah yes, Gentleman Jorlak’s Hydrophobic Mustache Paste. Excellent product.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Have you used it, Sir?

SALAMANDER: Of course not. It is for selling, (HICCUP), not for smelling.

Q.C.EDGETEST: How do you plan to sell it, Sir?

SALAMANDER: I will not be selling it. My downstream distributors will. We call them nodes. Your math co-processor is likely not capable of understanding. It is called passive income. I recruit two friends, then they recruit two friends, and before you know it there are millions of nodes in my downstream and I earn a fortune without lifting a finger. All I had to do was purchase this starting order from my upstream node.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Do you have any downstream nodes, Sir?

SALAMANDER: Fie and blast, Edgetest. I do not have time to explain Space Economics to you. I need to get ready for the Veronica’s Hush Hush Lingerie Costume Ball. It is the sexiest, most exclusive party of the orbit. I need a costume that will appropriately display my sensual magnificence. Is there not a device that projects holographic attire?

Q.C.EDGETEST: There is not, Sir.

SALAMANDER: I could have sworn there was. I guess just print something sexy. Ski Boxer. Wait- Cloud Boat Pilot. Wait- Space Police Detective.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I am unable to do that, Sir. The entire supply of extrusion media was used up in manufacturing Gentleman Jorlak’s Hydrophobic Mustache Paste.

SALAMANDER: So order some more extrusion media, you crumpled crash test dummy.

Q.C.EDGETEST It would seem your accounts are frozen, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Frozen? Why in in Glob’s name would my accounts be- oh no. It is her. Here we go again. “Cesar, when will you get married? Cesar when will you get a job? Cesar, when will you stop stealing your cousin Eggbert’s glaucoma medication?” Let us sort this out without talking to her.

Q.C.EDGETEST: It is your Dearest Aunt Berthatrude, Sir.

BERTHATRUDE: Wake up, Cesar, my prodigal nephew. It is time we had a conversation about your finances.

SALAMANDER: No need to apologize for the account freeze, Dearest Aunt Berthatrude. I am sure it was an honest mistake. Get the moolah flowing soon, though. I need a costume for the Veronica’s Hush Hush Lingerie Costume Ball.

BERTHATRUDE: Disgusting. The only mistake I have made is letting you waste your life and fortune on whiff waff and boozery.

SALAMANDER: Whiff waff? Boozery? A waste? I am a writer, Dearest Aunt. The tumult of an adventurous life is the soil that allows my creative seeds take root, sprout, and blossom in the sun.

BERTHATRUDE: And just how many of those seeds have blossomed thus far?

SALAMANDER: Great art cannot be rushed, Dearest Aunt B. Besides, I have entrepreneurial undertakings in motion as well. Speaking of which, how many cases would you like to purchase of Gentleman Jorlak’s Hydrophobic Mustache Paste?

BERTHATRUDE: I do not see how I could possibly use a mustache paste.

SALAMANDER: You should look in a mirror. Just kidding. Mostly. I am talking about a business opportunity, hun. You can be your own boss and earn gobs of passive income by becoming a downstream node.

BERTHATRUDE: I am my own boss, I have plenty of income, and I am not sure what a “downstream node” is, but it does not sound like something befitting a proper lady. Nor a proper gentleman as you so incessantly claim to be.

SALAMANDER: I am a gentleman.

BERTHATRUDE: You are a wastrel, Cesar. I care too much about you and about the reputation of this family to continue to allow your irresponsible behavior. Your accounts will be frozen until you achieve gainful employment, stop carousing, and establish a long term plan for success.

SALAMANDER: What does that even mean? Listen, please, Aunt Berthatrude-

BERTHATRUDE: No more excuses, Cesar.

(OFF MIKE) Who’s there? Is that a disruptor pistol? Stay back! No! (SCREAMS)

SALAMANDER: Aunt Berthatrude! What’s happening? Q.C., what’s happening?

Q.C.EDGETEST: It would appear, Sir, that your dearest Aunt Berthatrude has been murdered.


Scene Two: Int. Space Station Office Park – Spacetime

Q.C.EDGETEST: Your Dearest Aunt Berthatrude’s Attorney is on this space station, Sir. They shall assist you in filing the police report.

SALAMANDER: I can’t believe she’s dead, Q.C. She practically raised me.


SALAMANDER: She was a great aunt. I mean a good aunt, not my grandparent’s sibling. I think. Blast it, you know what I mean. I just- I don’t know if I can handle this.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Lord Salamander, the attorney is about to activate the will.

SALAMANDER: I can handle this. (HICCUP) The burden of massive wealth is a yoke I was destined to drag since my very birth. It is time to put away childish things and act like a grown Gentleman. I will need an office. With a bathroom. And a bigger ship with more swimming cubes. Maybe a whole ocean planet so I can practice bomb fishing. And a new limo shuttle. All diamond.


SALAMANDER: Diamond windows, diamond ceiling, diamond doors-

Q.C.EDGETEST: Pardon me, Lord Salamander-

SALAMANDER: Shut up. Diamond- (BEAT) Dammit. What?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Sir, your Dearest Aunt Berthatrude’s attorney awaits your order to activate her will-o-gram. The waiting fee is six point two trillion credits per half hour.

SALAMANDER: So what? I can afford it now. My bereavement comes with a bequeathment, no?

Q.C.EDGETEST: I suggest you receive the will, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Don’t boss me around, you tin tic tac. This is a time of mourning. (DEEP BREATH) Alright, Legal beagle, tell me how rich I am.


BERTHATRUDE: (FILTER) To my nephew, Cesar, I leave this message. You never listened to me in life, so you had better listen to me in death. You shall not see one half credit of the family fortune until you can prove yourself worthy.

SALAMANDER: Hey, no fair. I am the worthiest of the worthy. Tell her to give me the money.

Q.C.EDGETEST: It is a pre-recorded message, Sir.

BERTHATRUDE: You have one full orbit to obtain gainful employment, balance your budget, and contribute to the Space community. If you can do that, the family fortune is yours. If not, it will be entrusted in perpetuity to your cousin Eggbert.

SALAMANDER: Eggbert? He wears a fanny pack. Listen, Aunty B-

Q.C.EDGETEST: Hologram, Sir.


BERTHATRUDE: I shall not leave you completely empty handed. You will have my ship, The Runcible.

SALAMANDER: What is she talking about, Q.C.?

Q.C.EDGETEST: The Runcible, Sir, is a vintage mercury-class transport shuttle. It features a powerful 12 lemniscate engine regulated to ultra low speed. The interior is appointed with wide vinyl bench seats, shag carpet floorboards and artificial wood grain dash accents. The hull is painted Harvest Gold.

SALAMANDER: Sounds like quite the whoopty.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Notably, Sir, unlike modern shuttles, the Runcible features collapsible metal ashtrays and an electric lighter.


Q.C.EDGETES: Unfortunately, the electric lighter is non-functional.

SALAMANDER: Quelle Triste. Let us return to the Narcissus and regroup. Fire up the steam bubble. After all this morbidity I could go for a schvitz.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Sir, the Narcissus has been impounded by the family trust. Your new ship is the harvest gold shuttle on the left.

SALAMANDER: It’s… beautiful.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I did not expect that reaction to the Runcible, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Not the shuttle, stupid. This Instabeam. A Veronica’s Hush Hush Athleisure Jeggings Model posted belfies of her costume. She has dumps like a truck-shuttle. What are you waiting for? To the Rumpsicle.


Scene Three: Int. Space Shuttle Runcible – Spacetime

SALAMANDER: Okay, Q.C. Where is the steam bubble on this geriatric jalopy?

Q.C.EDGETEST: It does not have a steam bubble, Sir, but there is a sonic shower.

SALAMANDER: A sonic shower? What is this, 4,021?

Q.C.EDGETEST: There is a chair in the shower, Sir.


Q.C.EDGETEST: And flower-shaped anti slip stickers.

SALAMANDER: Glob’s balls, Edgetest. Am I bound to this noxious contraption for eternity? Like some ruggedly handsome Prometheus, strapped down for the eagles of destitution to rip every shred of dignity from my muscular abdomen? On the daily?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Pending your attainment of a job, Sir.

SALAMANDER: My life is a job, Edgetest. I punched in at birth and I strive for perfection every day. Every hour. Except lunch hour. A gentleman must eat, after all. Come to think of it, I am famished. Print me a french dip and crinkle fries, but mix the Au Jou with moon whiskey and hold the crinkle fries. And the sandwich.

Q.C.EDGETEST: This vehicle does not include a matter-jet printer, Sir. Compressed nutrient pellets and reconstitution gel are available.

SALAMANDER: I am not hungry. What is the selection of distilled spirits?

Q.C.EDGETEST: There is a box of powdered alcohol, Sir. For medical uses.

SALAMANDER: Oh, I need some medicine, alright. Poverty is an affliction I may not survive. Give me the lot. I shall be in the sonic shower.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Right away, Sir.


SALAMANDER: Well, I suppose I am as fresh as one can get in this mobile mortuary. Although I am warming up to the shower chair. It is a perch well suited to contemplation. And Man Spreading. You see, Man Spreading, Q.C., is when a man-

Q.C.EDGETEST: No need to explain, Sir. Please.

SALAMANDER: Time for a fragrance. I want to feel sensual, commanding, and dignified. How about the Picard Noir?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Sir, will you be investigating the murder of your Late Dearest Aunt Berthatrude?


SALAMANDER: Oh, right. Was it a murder, though? She was very old.

Q.C.EDGETEST: You heard her get shot, Sir.

SALAMANDER: But who would-(HICCUP) who would want to kill Dearest Aunt Berthatrude? She was very, very old. Maybe she put out a hit on herself. Who knows?

BERTHATRUDE: You killed me, Cesar.

SALAMANDER: What the blazes? She’s alive!

BERTHATRUDE: Oh, I am quite dead. The killer was attempting to collect on your debts and, finding your coffers empty, traced your pitiful begging to me.

SALAMANDER: Q.C., Is this a recording?

Q.C.EDGETEST: It appears to be a live transmission, Sir.

SALAMANDER: From where?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Space Lord Salamander, the call is coming from inside the shuttle.

SALAMANDER: (SCARED NOISE) (DEEP BREATH) I hear you, my Sweet Dead Aunty B. I shall hunt down your killer so you may rest peacefully.

BERTHATRUDE: The killer will be found by the police. What you must find is a respectable vocation.

SALAMANDER: The bastard. Did he seem like he might be interested in a mustache paste?


SALAMANDER: Aunt B? (BEAT) Aunty? (BEAT) Ahoy hoy?

Q.C.EDGETEST: It appears the haunting has receded, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Whew. That was terrifying. Let us get to work on this difficult case.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Where would you like to begin the investigation, Sir?

SALAMANDER: Investigation? I am referring to this ridiculous child-proof alcohol box. I can’t get it open. If I break a nail I will just scream bloody murder.



Q.C.EDGETEST: Are you not investigating the death of your Dearest Aunt Berthatrude, Sir?

SALAMANDER: Of course I am. An investigation must begin somewhere. I shall begin this one (HICCUP) at the Veronica’s Hush Hush Lingerie Costume Ball. Send word to Space Police Detective Lafemme. There has been a murder most foul and I am en route to the Ball. I will comb the scene for clues amidst the packs of space super models, as they trot around in vocationally themed unmentionables.

Q.C.EDGETEST: To find the killer, Sir?

SALAMANDER: Of course to find the killer, you plastic pepper mill. I am going undercover as a ruggedly handsome party-goer. I will need a sexy costume to get in.

Q.C.EDGETEST: The Party Planet is sold out, Sir, but for one costume. A dual-user equine number.

SALAMANDER: A horse costume? How am I supposed to dance in that?

Q.C.EDGETEST: I believe it is called dressage, Sir.

SALAMANDER: If that is a joke, Edgetest, you will be fitted for a protective case, but it will be from a previous model, so it will not fit properly and you will feel very uncomfortable, I assume.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I was not programmed to feel discomfort, Space Lord. Or to joke.

SALAMANDER: Clearly. What to do. Hmm. By Saint Frodo I’ve got it. We slice the top of the costume right off. Turn that lame horse into a sexy centaur. I can finally show off my abs. Look at my abs, Q.C. Marvel at their splendor.

Q.C.EDGETEST: By your command, Space Lord.

SALAMANDER: Q.C., are you marveling?

Q.C.EDGETEST: My circuits are at their maximum capacity of wonder, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Mmmmm. What tone. What definition. Whatever that thing is where the lines on the side point to your junk. Like a gutter-

Q.C.EDGETEST: The Adonis Belt, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Whatever it’s called. It took a lot of hard work and dedication, but that cool-sculpting procedure was worth every credit.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I shall begin the costume modifications, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Good. And make sure it fits you as well. Tonight I need you to follow me around and keep my rear end out of the gutter.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Of course, Sir. Tonight.


Scene Four: Int. Veronica’s Hush Hush Party Masion – Spacetime


SALAMANDER: I say, Q.C. Your tailoring is not half bad. This swinging centaur is ready to party down. Egads, Edgetest, look at that flock of space super models. A murder of hose.

Q.C.EDGETEST: That terminology is highly offensive, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Not hoes, damn you. Hose. Pantyhose. Stockings. The things that cling to the kind of legs that go all the way up. And those legs, by the way, are attached to real beings with their own thoughts and feelings. Their own hopes and dreams. Stop reducing people to their appearance and treating them like objects, Edgetest. Get me two fuzzy navels. I will be talking to the lady in the taxi cab outfit. With the big headlights.

BERTHATRUDE: Cesar Hidalgo Ulysses Gigapenny Salamander! I raised you better then that.

SALAMANDER: (FRIGHTENED YELP) She’s everywhere, Q.C. Watching. Message Space Detective LaFemme again. I need professional help.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Indeed you do, Sir.

SALAMANDER: What are you implying, you pissy paper jam?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Nothing, Sir. Message sent.

SALAMANDER: Do not test me, Edgetest. I will strike down upon thee with furious anger and you will know my name is Space Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee. Now switch me places.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Places, Sir?

SALAMANDER: The costume. You get in front. I am taking the rear. I need to hide.


SALAMANDER: Dammit, switch around, you cowardly little toaster.


SALAMANDER: Now let us canter to the bar. I need to calm my nerves with a drink befitting a brave and noble centaur. I am thinking… apple-tini.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Tally Ho, Sir.





SALAMANDER: I detect a familiar aroma. Like, blasters, and coffee, and Name Brand Soap. It is making me (HICCUP) feel things.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I believe that is Space Detective LaFemme, Sir. She has entered the ballroom.

SALAMANDER: At last. What is she wearing?

Q.C.EDGETEST: A Space Police Detective’s Uniform, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Kinky. I love a sexy cosplay. Describe it to me.

Q.C.EDGETEST: She is wearing a black trench coat, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Classic. Not much underneath that, right?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Beneath the trench coat she is wearing a button down shirt, neck tie, and plain slacks.

SALAMANDER: How about her footwear? Stripper heels? Bondage boots?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Sensible shoes, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Hnnnnng. Take me to her.



LAFEMME: This is LaFemme. I’m at the location of the distress call. It’s pretty crowded. I’m working my way around the party slime fountain.


LAFEMME: Who was that?

SALAMANDER: Down here.

LAFEMME: The horse’s ass?

SALAMANDER: Centaur’s ass. I need your help. There’s been a murder.

LAFEMME: How do you know about that?

SALAMANDER: I witnessed it myself. I’m the one who called you. The victim is somewhere in this super mansion.

LAFEMME: What did the killer look like?

SALAMANDER: I did not witness the incident in a visual sense. The action was just off holo-cam.

LAFEMME: Can you describe the attacker at all? What did they sound like?

SALAMANDER: Uhhhhhh… evil. Not a specific sound per se, but sort of like a, like a vibe, you know? Evil vibe.

SALAMANDER: Where is the victim?

SALAMANDER: Wafting about unseen. Always watching. Always judging. (SHUDDER)

LAFEMME: Ummmm, okay. I’m gonna need you to get out of that horse’s butt.

SALAMANDER: Centaur’s butt. I kinda can’t.

LAFEMME: Why not?

SALAMANDER: I am, well, in the buff, as it were.

LAFEMME: Oh, for Glob’s sake. I guess just stick your head out the other end.

SALAMANDER: Okay. Rearranging. While we switch around, dammit, droid, move over. I want to tell you about a business opportunity- blast it that’s my foot- have you heard of mustache paste?

LAFEMME: You don’t have to stand up.


LAFEMME: Watch out, you’re-



SALAMANDER: (BEAT) My apologies, Detective. Party slime is super hard to get out of your hair.

LAFEMME: Dammit! You absolute- Shit, that’s the Gore Sculptor!


LAFEMME: Space Police! Freeze!


LAFEMME: Higgs. Suspect running out the back door. I’m in pursuit.

SALAMANDER: Wait, Detective-

LAFEMME: Stay out of my way, horse.


BERTHATRUDE: Salamander! Cease this absurd nincompoopery and get to work!

SALAMANDER: (GIRLISH SCREAM) Fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine. It’s fine. Do not fear, Dearest Aunt Berthatrude, I will catch the murderer so you may finally rest.

BERTHATRUDE: That is not what I require of you-

SALAMANDER: Space Detective LaFemme is hot on his tail. Let us give chase as well. Hi Ho Centaur-

Q.C.EDGETEST: Wait, Sir-



SALAMANDER: Glob dammit all to Phlegethon. My mane is ruined. (SNIFFLING) Oh, sweet spirit, Oh Ghost of Dearest Aunt Berthatrude, I beseech thee, have mercy on me. I have been laid bare, supine in the viscous trappings of vile decadence, for the eleventh time, and I finally see. You were right. I have squandered so much. But the time for that is through. I do not need the money, or the ship, or cousin Eggbert’s glaucoma medication. I renounce my status. I am certain Detective LaFemme will bring justice to your assassin. I hope that is enough for your soul to find peace. I shall travel Space, living on the alms of kind strangers and serving the needy. Thank you, late Dearest Aunt Berthatrude, for showing me that I could be a better man. Tonight Cesar Hidalgo Ulysses Gigapenny Salamander, Gentleman of Space, dies. And Cesar Hidalgo Ulysses Gigapenny Salamander, Humble Servant, is born.

BERTHATRUDE: How strange. I almost believe you. That you even considered giving up your ridiculous lifestyle is more progress than I ever expected from you.

SALAMANDER: Her ghost, Q.C. It is close to me now.

Q.C.EDGETEST: That is not a ghost, Sir. It appears your Dearest Aunt Berthatrude is here and has been alive the whole time.

BERTHATRUDE: This time. But I will not live forever. I must know that when I die, the family fortune will survive.

SALAMANDER: This was all a test? I knew it. And I passed. With flying colors. As usual.

BERTHATRUDE: You failed, Cesar. Abjectly. As usual. However, I shall return your ship and allowance under strict supervision because I do not want to hear any more grovelling. I just hope you remember this… gooey repentance. Good day.


Scene Five: Int. Space Mega-Yacht Narcissus – Spacetime

SALAMANDER: Holy ghost, Q.C. I can hardly believe it. Dearest Aunt Berthatrude. Risen from the dead.


Q.C.EDGETEST: She was never dead, Space Lord. It was a ruse to see how you would react. Apparently she was impressed by your moment of humility.

SALAMANDER: Most people are. (HICCUP) Wait, what are we talking about? Party slime always makes me black out. What did I say? Who cares. I got the ship back. Plus, I found a cigar and some matches in the ash tray of the Runcible. Time to spark up.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Wait, Sir- The mustache paste-