A Gentleman About Space Episode 2 – Malodorous Masquerade

Lord Cesar Salamander, self-proclaimed space-ladies’ man extraordinaire, is off to seduce a pair of space-princesses at the signing of the Kylondrio peace treaty, but all is not smooth sailing. With QC exasperatedly at his side, Salamander navigates the high-intrigue worlds of diplomacy, journalism, and noise ordinances. If he wants to get the girl(s), he’ll have to use all his…uh… cleverness?

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 Ricco Machado-Torres as the Security Chief.

Music and sound by Matt Braman.


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


Q.C.EDGETEST: You seem chipper this morning, Space Lord Salamander.

SALAMANDER: The absolute tops, Q.C.EDGETEST. Did you see the news beam about the Summit on Kylondrio?

Q.C.EDGETEST: I did, Sir. I was not aware of your interest in Space Politics.

SALAMANDER: You underestimate me, Edgetest.


SALAMANDER: I am a citizen of the cosmos and an intergalactic intellectual. A meeting between the Antawan and the Graxifinnic is an important moment in Space History. (CHUGS DRINK)

Q.C.EDGETEST: Quite so, Sir. A brutal war, finally coming to an end.

SALAMANDER: (HICCUP) So that is why they are meeting.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Yes, Sir. To sign the peace treaty. What did you think it was about?

SALAMANDER: I try not to clog my recollection with inconsequential details, Q.C. I have been following the Antawan and Graxifinnic because they have produced the first and second most beautiful princesses in the galaxy, respectively. I intend to seduce those princesses. Simultaneously.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Are they not a tad young for you, Sir?

SALAMANDER: Nonsense, we went to the same university.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Matriculating one point three decades apart, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Age is but an integer, my hexadecimal friend. It is the age of our souls that connects us. When two people look into each others’ eyes- when three people look into both of each others’ eyes, we see that we are truly but one soul, woven from the energy that creates all things, stretching back to the big bang and infinitely beyond, reaffirming the sublime beauty of existence. Also, they are stunningly well-formed. Look at this picture.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Forgive me, Sir, but I was under the impression Detective LaFemme had ensnared your heart.

SALAMANDER: Like a fox in a force field, Q.C. But since when has going to a banquet precluded one from snacking along the way? Who am I to refuse a delicacy when offered?

Q.C.EDGETEST: I was not aware of any offer, Sir.

SALAMANDER: The universe offered, you mechanical albatross, when it coalesced into those heavenly forms, when it revealed them to me by way of the Space Gentleman’s Quarterly Top 10 Celebrity Side-Boob Nipple-Slip Holo-Blast, and once again as this trade deal brings them together on Kylondrio. A luxury resort planet. Can you imagine, Q.C.? Skinny dipping in an upside-down champagne waterfall? With a Space Princess?

Q.C.EDGETEST: I need not imagine, Sir. That is how you spent most of last year until the Celestion King found out and vaporized the entire system.

SALAMANDER: Bit of an overreaction, I think. I hope her Highness made it out alright. We never even got to Fifth Base.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Fifth Base, Sir?

SALAMANDER: You know, the Lazer-Ball metaphor for relationship stages?

Q.C.EDGETEST: My data banks do not contain that information, Sir.

SALAMANDER: First Base is commenting on her Insta-Beam pictures, but not in a creepy way. In a Gentlemanly way. Second Base is meeting her avatar in World of Spacecraft and giving her legendary items and gold. Third Base is beaming her some credits to pay for college textbooks. Fourth Base is flying her to a luxury planet and buying her clothing, jewelry and private yoga lessons which I am not allowed to attend for some reason, and Fifth Base, sweet sweet Fifth Base… Physical contact. (SIGH) Let us not dwell on the past.


SALAMANDER: Excelsior, my droid. You only get one third chance to sleep with two princesses.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Quite so, Sir.

SALAMANDER: I mean, picture it, Q.C. The warm air, the gentle breeze caressing the silk palms, the placid ocean painted with the pastel reflection of the sunset sky. Three naked bodies entwined in an effervescent fountain. Can you picture it?

Q.C.EDGETEST: I can, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Seriously, picture it.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I am, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Begin Holo Projection. I need something to watch while I shave my dangly bits.




SALAMANDER: What a planet, Q.C. Did you see those fireworks on the way in?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Yes, Sir. I barely convinced you not to fly into them.

SALAMANDER: And I shall never forgive you for that, you moist electric duvet. Now go check in and take all my bags to the suite. I shall be in the lobby bar calibrating my central nervous system.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Very good, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Barkeep? Double Mercury Tonic. I need to get optimized post haste. In fact, take this generous down payment and keep your best mixologist on retainer. I will need a dedicated staff for this event as my valet seems to have processor damage.


SALAMANDER: I mean, it’s just fireworks for Jupiter’s sake, not an active volcano. (HICCUP) And we survived the volcano anyway so really, who is protecting whom? I digress. Protect me from sobriety and I shall protect you from poverty. Also I need two jars of pickled bison eggs. Do not ask what they are for.

Q.C.EDGETEST: All checked in, Sir. Shall we adjourn to the suite for your wardrobe change?

SALAMANDER: No time, my droid, no time. I shall change in the shuttle on the way to the Summit Grounds. Give me my garment bag.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I shall fetch it from the suite, Sir.

SALAMANDER: You took it to the suite? My god, Edgetest. Are you allergic to being helpful?


SALAMANDER: Has exposure to environmental toxins created an overactive defense system that attacks good ideas instead of bad ones? Are you in anaphylactic shock?

Q.C.EDGETEST: No, Space Lord.

SALAMANDER: Then why in the black hole are you hovering here instead of fetching my garment bag?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Off I go, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Good day, Shuttleman. I require passage to the Summit Grounds the instant my valet returns with my garment bag.

SECURITY CHIEF: Security chief. No luggage on the shuttle. Shuttle is reserved for Heads of State, their families, and the press.

SALAMANDER: Well it just so happens I am the best writer in the spiral arm. I prefer a window seat.

SECURITY CHIEF: May I see your press credentials?

SALAMANDER: Regrettably not on my person at the moment.

SECURITY CHIEF: You can access them remotely on your Holo Pad. Who is your publisher?

SALAMANDER: Publisher? The corporate stooges of the mainstream media can’t handle my hot takes and hard truths.

SECURITY CHIEF: You can submit your portfolio to the event manager directly.

SALAMANDER: You would like that, wouldn’t you? Hand over my best work to be cribbed by literary poachers? To be suppressed like the underprivileged proletariat to whom I would deliver these sanguine truths? Not likely.

SECURITY CHIEF: Well then, you are not getting on this shuttle.

SALAMANDER: I am unintimidated by you, Charon. Do you know who I am? I- ouch, okay that is my arm. Ow, blast it, let me go, you brutish thug of a Gorillacorn. I’m away. I shall see you soon with a press credential and a formal reprimand from your head gondolier. Q.C.Edgetest, where are you?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Right here, Sir.

SALAMANDER: I need you to hack into the security system and fake some press credentials for me.

Q.C.EDGETEST: My ethics protocols prevent me from doing that Sir.

SALAMANDER: Did I not bypass those protocols sneaking into the headmaster’s office at boarding school?

Q.C.EDGETEST: In a manner of speaking, Sir. You used me as a battering ram. The damage to my circuitry was quite extensive.

SALAMANDER: And yet here you float, your whinging and whining circuits fully operational.

Q.C.EDGETEST: My apologies, Space Lord.

SALAMANDER: I did what I had to do, Edgetest. I wasn’t about to let my entire cache of stink bombs, plasma-crackers and candy vaporettes sit locked away in some pedagogical authoritarian’s tacky escritoire.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Of course not, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Even then, a young Gentleman on the threshold of adulthood, I had to stand for what was mine. To liberate that trove of unjustly impounded property. To fart in that headmaster’s top drawer. It was my day, Q.C. A Gentleman’s thirty-third birthday is a rite of passage.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Just as you say, Sir. Unfortunately, I do not have a solution to our current conundrum. Despite my now-reinforced cranial housing, the security doors at this resort are nigh impenetrable, as is their computer network.

SALAMANDER: Subterfuge, then. A disguise. I can see it now.

Q.C.EDGETEST: What are you envisioning, Sir?

SALAMANDER: The bloke in the cloak over yonder, harvesting the continental breakfast. His face plate is the perfect mask. He even has a press badge.

Q.C.EDGETEST: That is the Vitriarch Royal Scribe, Sir. The mask is a medical apparatus to cope with Kylondrio’s atmospheric conditions.

SALAMANDER: So beautiful weather will instantly kill him?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Not exactly, Sir. He would fall into a deep sleep.

SALAMANDER: That sounds rather pleasant, actually.

Q.C.EDGETEST: The Vitriarch tend not to agree, Sir. They do occasionally die from sleep-related injuries. They expose themselves only when dining in windowless rooms. Their casino buffets are renowned throughout the Galaxy. The resort has set up a partitioned booth specifically for the Scribe.

SALAMANDER: Then we await his prandial unveiling and abscond with the visor ourselves.

Q.C.EDGETEST: It is a life-saving medical device, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Potentially life saving. I plan to return it, of course. This resort is full of windowless rooms. The gym. The business center. The service elevators. He can relax in climate controlled luxury and I shall even give him the story.

Q.C.EDGETEST: The story, Sir?

SALAMANDER: The story about the trade deal or whatever.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Did you plan to write a journalistic article about the peace treaty, Sir?

SALAMANDER: I mean, I didn’t plan not to. Reporting can’t be that hard. You literally just write down what happened. An author of my caliber should have it done in half a tick.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Do you believe the potential legal ramifications of such an action are justified?

SALAMANDER: You saw the belfies, Q.C. The rear ends justify the means.


Scene Three: Int. Dining Room – Day

SALAMANDER: Q.C., look. Our reporter friend has left his mask unattended as he conquers the buffet a third time. Snatch it and we shall fly to the summit.

Q.C.EDGETEST: My ethics protocols prevent me from-

SALAMANDER: Stuff your ethics protocols, you neutered blender. I’ll do it myself.


Fly, Q.C. It is accomplished.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Sir, the Vitriarch is returning from the buffet. Surely he will sound the alarm.

SALAMANDER: You said he would fall asleep.

Q.C.EDGETEST: He will, Sir. In approximately thirteen minutes.

SALAMANDER: Dammit, Edgetest. Go distract him while I stash the goods.

Q.C.EDGETEST: How shall I do that, Sir?

SALAMANDER: I don’t know. Ask him about scribing, or buffets, or mask fashion. Wait. Don’t mention mask fashion. I’ll hide it in this plant.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Right away, Sir.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I beg your pardon, honorable Scribe of Vitriarch. Please grant me a brief inquiry. I have heard that in your culture those who do not contribute to society are publicly executed. I have always been curious- by what method? Please, spare no detail.

SALAMANDER: Excuse me, Mr. Vitriarch. I just saw someone make off with your mask. Follow me and we might catch them.


Scene Four: Int. Resort Lobby – Day

Q.C.EDGETEST: Space Lord Salamander, do you think it wise to leave the sleeping Vitriarch Scribe in your suite?

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) I don’t know, Edgetest. Do you think it wise to second guess your employer and best friend?

Q.C.EDGETEST: You consider me your best friend, Sir?

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) Of course not. I am your best friend, not the other way around. My best friend is…uh… blast it, Edgetest, stop blathering. I need to focus. This mask is itchy and it smells like asparagus.

Q.C.EDGETEST: That would be the enzyme spray. It periodically coats the Vitriarch face in a prophylactic mucus.

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) Good heavens. What happens if I get sprayed?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Unknown Sir. I recommend returning the mask before it dispenses the enzyme.

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) How long do I have?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Time varies from five to seven hours, Sir.

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) Well, alright then. Engage your chronometer and we shall return in a tight six and a half.

SECURITY CHIEF: Press pass. Thank you. No droids in the shuttle.

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) He is my comfort companion. I suffer from shuttle anxiety. I prefer a window seat.

SECURITY CHIEF: You sound familiar. Did you come by here earlier?

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) No. No problem. Flying solo it is. Wait here, Q.C. I shall return in a blink with two brand new comfort companions. Have three vodka beetle-juices ready when I return.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Of course, Lord Salamander.


Q.C.EDGETEST: Welcome back from the summit, Space Lord. Where are your companions?

SALAMANDER: Do not mock me, you rusted Rubik’s cube. Take this wretched mask and hand over the beverages. (GULPING SOUNDS)

Q.C.EDGETEST: I take it you were unable to make contact with their Highnesses, Sir?


Q.C.EDGETEST: Your hand gesture would suggest frustration.

SALAMANDER: (SWALLOWS) My frustration, Edgetest, is threefold. Firstly, this is last time you interrupt me mid-quaff or, by Zeus, I shall have you water boarded. Or oil boarded. Acid boarded? Whatever is the most painful boarding that does not void your warranty. Secondly, your insinuation that I struck out is insulting. Thirdly, if I had struck out, it is because you sent me to the plate without a bat.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I do not follow, Sir.

SALAMANDER: The Vitriarch are eunuchs, Edgetest. You knew that. I was not even considered as an object of lust.

Q.C.EDGETEST: That has not stopped you in the past, Space Lord. My apologies.

SALAMANDER: Hang your apologies, you clogged vacuum bag. It was not a total loss. I overheard their Highnesses plan to attend a wild, sexy party tonight. That is where I make my move.

Q.C.EDGETEST: And which move might that be, Sir?

SALAMANDER: Pick one. I know them all. Now make haste. I must first put my swag on.


Scene 5: Int. Resort Suite – Day


SALAMANDER: Is he going to snore like that the whole time?


Q.C.EDGETEST: One would hope, Sir. If the snoring stops, he will either be awake or dead.

SALAMANDER: (HICCUP) Fine. Get your game display on, Q.C. I need you to make me look as dapper as I am dashing and vice versa, doubly so. What do you think about the Holo-Dickey?

Q.C.EDGETEST: You asked me to destroy it last week, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Why in dark Tartarus would I do that?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Its malfunction revealed your genitals to hundreds of party guests.


Q.C.EDGETEST: It electrocuted you 3 out of the 4 times you wore it.


Q.C.EDGETEST: It caused you to urinate involuntarily in front of Detective LaFemme.

SALAMANDER: Oh. Did she seem impressed?

Q.C.EDGETEST: On the contrary, Sir. Her micro-expressions were consistent with universal display of disgust.

SALAMANDER: Well, it was a rather tacky and depressing affair. Let us make tonight about style, sexiness, and panache. The Lemur Skin Three-Piece.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Very good, Sir.

SALAMANDER: And a fedora. Ladies love a man in a-




SALAMANDER: -fedora. Now to select a fragrance. Something classy, sophisticated. Which one did I wear to the museum opening?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Pimp Gas, Sir, by Kenneth Bulge.

SALAMANDER: That’s the stuff. Hose me down.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Right away, Sir.


SALAMANDER : More, Q.C. Do not be shy.


Q.C.EDGETEST: It will be difficult for the guests to smell anything else, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Exactly the point, my droid. Empty that bottle and lets dash over to the party. They said it is in the Molybdenum Suite.

Q.C.EDGETEST: As you wish, Lord Salamander.




Scene Six: Int. Resort Molybdenum Suite – Night


SALAMANDER: (SHOUTING, OFF MIKE) This is a lot of beings, Q.C. Do you see them?

Q.C.EDGETEST: (OFF MIKE) They are on the other side of the room, Sir, to the left of the nautiloid in the orange vest.

SALAMANDER: (SHOUTING, OFF MIKE) I can not hear you, turn up your voice emitter.

Q.C.EDGETEST: (OFF MIKE) They are on the other side-

SALAMANDER: (SHOUTING, OFF MIKE) I still can’t hear you. Maximum volume. Reroute power from thrusters.

Q.C.EDGETEST : (HOT ON MIKE) They are on the other side of-



Q.C.EDGETEST: (FILTER) They are on the other side of the room, Sir, to the right of the nautiloid in the orange vest.

SALAMANDER: (SHOUTING) What in the Horse Head Nebula? Are you inside my brain?

Q.C.EDGETEST : (FILTER) In a manner of speaking, Sir. I have tapped in to your sensory transceiver to facilitate communication.

SALAMANDER : (SHOUTING) I have one of those?

Q.C.EDGETEST: (FILTER) There is no need to shout, Sir. I can hear you through the transceiver. You had it installed last year.


Q.C.EDGETEST: (FILTER) You wanted to get more followers on your Insta-Beam, Sir. Might I remind you-

SALAMANDER: (SHOUTING) That’s right. I went viral. Did you see the post with the Princess from Celestion 4? With the dance?

Q.C.EDGETEST: (FILTER) I did, Sir, as did the Celestion King and 2 septillion others when it was re-beamed by the Galaxy Goofs Daily Cringe-Fails Holo Channel.

SALAMANDER: (SHOUTING) I really can cut a rug-

Q.C.EDGETEST: (FILTER) The transceiver, Space Lord, lest you hurt your voice.

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) A-ha. I really can cut a rug, can I not? Point me to the ladies and fetch us 3 Tequila Moon-rises.

Q.C.EDGETEST: (FILTER) Yes, Sir. They are on the other side of the room, Sir. Next to the nautiloid in the orange vest.

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) Time to trip the light fantastic and bust a proverbial move. (DANCE GRUNTING) Good evening, ladies. I noticed you noticing me. The name is Salamander. Space Lord Cesar Salamander. How are you two beautiful humanoids this evening?


SALAMANDER: (FILTER) I see you did not hear me over the music. The name is Cesar. You may have seen me on your Social Beam. My dance video has over 6 septillion views.


SALAMANDER: (FILTER) You know, the Salamander Shake? Some people called it the Wiener Dance, I guess? I call it the Salamander Shake. I admit I am kind of a sex symbol.





SALAMANDER: (SHOUTING) I’m the wiener dance guy!

SECURITY CHIEF: Attention party-goers. We have received 21 noise complaints. This party is over.


SECURITY CHIEF: You do not have to go to your home planets, but you can not stay here. Resistance will be met with deadly force. Please take a gift bag on your way out. Thank you for visiting the 5 Seasons Kylondrio.

SALAMANDER: Well, your Ladyships, it seems this barn-burner has been extinguished. What do you say we mosey on over to my suite for an after-after party?

SECURITY CHIEF: Move along, folks.

SALAMANDER: For the love of Venus will you give me one picosecond, you jackbooted rhino-bear?

SECURITY CHIEF: I’ll give you 3 picoseconds to vacate the premises before I disintegrate you. Wait. I know you.

SALAMANDER: One of those faces, I suppose. No worries. Premises Vacated. Come along, Q.C., full impulse.


Scene 7: Int. Resort Lobby – Night

SALAMANDER: This is quite the sticky wicket.

Q.C.EDGETEST: A royal rendezvous does appear unlikely at this juncture, Sir.

SALAMANDER: How could this get any worse?


Q.C.EDGETEST: The Space Police are approaching, Sir.

LAFEMME: Security chief. I am Detective LaFemme of the Space Police. I received a Vitriarch emergency ping from this location. Mind if I look around?

SECURITY CHIEF: Be my guest, Detective. Let me know what I can do to help.

SALAMANDER: Pardon me, Detective LaFemme? Space Lord Cesar Salamander. Please feel free to use me as a resource. I have a keen eye for detail and a photographic memory.

LAFEMME: I know you. You peed on Lady Upsilon’s rug.

SALAMANDER: I do not remember that.

LAFEMME: What are you doing here?

SALAMANDER: I’m a lover. I mean, a writer. I love to write. I’m covering the trade deal.

LAFEMME: You mean the peace treaty? Where are your press credentials?

SALAMANDER: That is why I must speak to you. I was mugged. The rapscallion made off with my identification and ample billfold.

LAFEMME: File a report with Sergeant Higgs in the lobby.

SALAMANDER: The only reporting I do is hard-hitting, fact-based journalism. Perhaps we could conduct an interview? You must have a trove of harrowing tales, n’cest-ce pas?

LAFEMME: My job is probably more boring than you think. The last big case I had was a thief. We called him The Hot Bandit. His charm and good looks made his victims fall in love. Then he robbed them blind.

SALAMANDER: I’m sure he wasn’t that good looking.

LAFEMME: Perfect bone structure, luxurious hair, deep grey eyes, a well-muscled physique-

SALAMANDER: I suppose some naive waifs are wowed by glamour muscles. I focus on core strength. Kettle bells. Battle ropes. Tractor Tires. I own all those things.

LAFEMME: He did look like a model, but his looks weren’t what made him dangerous. His silky voice was mesmerizing. He could easily sway his victims over voice comms.

SALAMANDER: (deep voice) Saccharine murmurs often lead the weak astray. Many have told me I have a face for radio.

LAFEMME: Even in text, his poetry was enchanting. He turned three of my best detectives before I finally brought him down myself.

SALAMANDER: I see you are not so easily won by such shallow wiles.

LAFEMME: Oh no, I had to wear a sensory filter to make the arrest. I would have given myself to him without a thought, drunk on his sultry whispers until he penetrated my mind, soul, and body. (sigh)


LAFEMME: You know, I suppose I could talk about him some more. People would definitely read that.

SALAMANDER: Maybe, I guess. Unfortunately, I have to skedaddle. I just remembered another vocation to which I must attend. I’m a sunglasses model. Underwear model. I model underwear made of sunglasses.


SALAMANDER: Plus I write the word parts. Totally poetic. I write and read the poetry in the sunglasses underwear. Very tasteful. It’s in another galaxy, though, so you probably won’t see it.

LAFEMME: Okay. I have to go now. If that Vitriarch doesn’t show up soon, I’ll have to sweep this hotel room by room.

SALAMANDER: (ASIDE) Q.C., the masquerade has gone on long enough. Let us put an end to this investigation. Give me the mask.

Q.C.EDGETEST: You wish to return it and make legal preparations, Sir?

SALAMANDER: No, you tin twit. I need to impersonate the Vitriarch and head off that beautiful bloodhound.

Q.C.EDGETEST: As you wish, Lord Salamander.

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) Detective LaFemme, I understand you are looking for me?

LAFEMME: We received a distress signal from this location.

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) Here I am, no distress. I merely hit the button by accident while leaning over the buffet.

LAFEMME: I see. I have heard your people are renowned for your buffets.

SALAMANDER: (FIILTER) Your people? Are you insinuating that I perpetuate a stereotype?

LAFEMME: Not at all. My apologies, Sir. Carry on.

SALAMANDER: (FILTER) Good day. (ASIDE) Q.C., did it work? Is she leaving?

Q.C.EDGETEST: It would seem so, Sir. I would recommend you remove the mask immediately. At any moment it will dispense-


SALAMANDER: (SCREAMS) It burns! Cursed Coronas it burns so much! Get it off!

Q.C.EDGETEST: It is off, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Why can’t I see anything?

Q.C.EDGETEST: It appears the Vitriarch prophylactic mucus has damaged your corneas, Sir.

SALAMANDER: Blast it, Edgetest, you said this thing was safe for eight hours. How can I charm the ladies if I can’t see them?

Q.C.EDGETEST: It might be best if they did not see you either, Sir. There has been some damage to your epidermis.

SALAMANDER: What sort of damage?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Your face is covered with yellow-green boils, Sir. I recommend immediate medical attention.

SALAMANDER: Can it be fixed before the suns rise?

Q.C.EDGETEST: Regretfully not, Sir. The treatment requires forty-eight hours in an Integumentary Travolta Cage.

SALAMANDER: Dash it all, Q.C. Rid me of this cursed Dumasian Face Plate and let us make haste away from this wasteland.

Q.C.EDGETEST: What of the Scribe, Sir?

SALAMANDER: We just sneak him into the buffet, put the mask on him, and sprinkle some dumplings around. When he awakens he will assume it was a gustatory mishap. Hopefully he will be so hungry he eats the dumplings and forgets everything. Let’s get it over with and slip back to the Narcissus. I need a very large and specific number of drinks.

Q.C.EDGETEST: How many drinks is that, Sir?

SALAMANDER: The number it takes to forget two beautiful princesses.

Q.C.EDGETEST: I shall begin the neurochemical calculations at once.


Scene 8: Int. Space Mega-Yacht Narcissus – Day

Q.C.EDGETEST: Your skin looks more radiant than ever, Sir.

SALAMANDER: And just as unsullied, sadly. I wanted to be covered in hickeys, not boils.



Q.C.EDGETEST: At least you were present for one of the most important moments in Space History, Sir.

SALAMANDER: At least nothing. I missed the most important moment in Space Gentlemanry. But it does no good to wallow. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. It is time to get to work on that magazine article.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Will you be self-publishing, Sir, or sending it to the Vitriarch Scribe?

SALAMANDER: What in Edesia’s name is a Vitriarch Scribe? Never mind. I just received the latest issue of the Space Gentleman’s Quarterly Top 10 Celebrity Side-Boob Nipple-Slip Holo-Blast, Annual Triple Nipple Edition, and I intend to peruse its contents thoroughly. I shall be in my quarters.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Very good, Sir. Shall I serve dinner at the regular time?

SALAMANDER: Just set the food by the door. And a bottle of Mintoovian Truffle Oil.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Sir, Mintoovian Truffle oil will grossly overpower the other flavors.

SALAMANDER: Only if I eat it, Q.C. And do not call me gross.

Q.C.EDGETEST: Very good, Sir. Anything else?

SALAMANDER: Put on some loud music. I heard some party dance number recently, whatever that was.

Q.C.EDGETEST: As you wish, Lord Salamander.


SFX 30: End Transmission.

CREDITS: This has been a production of the Never Rad Miscellany. The Never Rad Miscellany is Produced and Directed by Conrad Miszuk. The sound effects are mixed and performed by Cody Hazelle. The credits are read by Matt Braman.

A Gentleman About Space is written by Matt Braman with sound and music by Matt Braman. Space Lord Caesar Salamander is played by Conrad Miszuk. Q.C. Edgetest is played by William Crook. The Security Chief is played by Ricco Machado-Torres. Detective Saoirse LaFemme is played by Briauna Kittle.

The Never Rad Miscellany is proudly produced in Phoenix, Arizona, and performed at the Rebel Lounge. If you’re going to be in town, check out NeverRad.com for future show information. Visit NeverRad.com for news, extras, and more episodes. There are transcriptions on the website if you’d like to read along. You can find the live videos of the episodes at NeverRad.com/YouTube. Get wonderful benefits by becoming a subscription donor at NeverRad.com/patreon. Please send any questions or comments to info@neverrad.com. If you are a Miscellanist working in the field you may call and leave us a report of your strange and interesting findings at (224)CALL-RAD. That’s (224)225-5723. If you’re a local Phoenix, Arizona writer or voice actor, visit neverrad.com to apply to join us. If you like the Never Rad Miscellany, be sure to rate and review us on your favorite podcasting service, and connect with us on Facebook (facebook.com/neverrad), Tumblr (neverrad.tumblr.com), Instagram (@never.rad) and Twitter (@NeverRad).

Special thanks to The Rebel Lounge, Megan Taliaferro, The Duck and Decanter, and everyone in the audience for the live program!