transcribed portions from an episode of the underground game show WIN, LOSE, or SUICIDE! that used to air Tuesdays at 3 in the morning on the pirate TV station Massacre Media.

Mel:  It's time for another edition of everybody's favorite late night game show:  WIN, LOSE, OR SUICIDE!  Tonight's contestants are Marilyn Cross, a nurse from Albuquerque, who will be competing against our returning champion Devon Rusk, whom we all know has no job and therefore, no future.  Welcome back, Devon!
 
Devon:  It's good to be back, Mel.
 
Mel:  Shut the fuck up.  As he already let slip, I'm your host Mel August.  And this is Win, Lose, or Suicide!  Brought to you by Crispy Carnival Flakes -- make your breakfast a carnival of taste.
        But before you do, let's get to know our contestants.  Marilyn?
 
Marilyn:  Yes, Mel?

Mel:  How are you this fine evening?

Marilyn
:  I'm good, and excited to play.
 
Mel:  Good all around.  It says here you're a nurse.
 
Marilyn:  Yes, that's correct.  I work for the local elementary school, but I volunteer whenever I can at the nearby free clinic.
 
Mel:  That's just super.  You're better than most people.
 
Marilyn:  Well, I don't think...
 
Mel:  Of course you don't, otherwise you wouldn't be here.  Are you guys ready to play?!
 
Devon:  You betcha.
 
Marilyn:  I suppose so.

Mel
:  Oh, Marilyn, if you're only supposing then I get the feeling you don't really know what's going on.
 
Marilyn:  I don't actually.
 
Mel:  This is Win, Lose, or Suicide, and here's how we play.  Our dedicated team of professional investigators have spent countless hours digging into your background to uncover all kinds of info.
 
Marilyn:  What kinds?

Mel:  The kind you don't want anyone to know.  But here's the deal.  I'm going to ask you some questions.  For every one you get right, you'll earn the money to bribe our silence.  Do you follow?

Marilyn
:  This isn't what I thought I was signing up for.
 
Mel:  That's too bad bitch because we're hitting the ground running.  Audience!  Let's get wild.
 
Devon:  You're going down whore.
 
Mel:  Devon! Ready for war.  I like that.  And as the returning champion you get the first question.
 
Devon:  HIT ME!
 
Mel:  I will. Shortly after conducting his Sixth Symphony, this composer contracted cholera and died in St. Petersburg on November 6th, 1893.  Who was it?
 
Devon:  ...
 
Mel:  Famous composer
 
Devon:  ...I'm thinking...
 
Mel:  Died of cholera.
 
Devon:  Tchaikovsky!

Mel
:  A lucky guess... but correct nonetheless. That's a hundred dollars Devon. You're off to a great start. Marilyn, it's time for you to get in the game.  In Roman mythology this figure was the father of Morpheus, the son of Nox, and the brother of Mors.  Who am I talking about because I don't know?
 
Marilyn:  Somnus.
 
Mel:  You didn't even have to think about that one,and you're right!  Way to go Marilyn, a fantastic way to begin.  $100 in your pocket to prevent god only knows what from surfacing. Devon!  Are you ready for one?
 
Devon:  I'm diamond hard to continue.
 
Mel:  TMI, my friend.  TMI.  But here we go:  This poet and painter entered a prolonged morbid state after recovering a manuscript of poems he had buried with his dead wife, seven years after her burial.  Who was this sick son of a bitch?

Devon:  I have no idea.
 
Mel:  I'd be shocked if you did.
 
Devon:  I'd like to use my emergency line.
 
Mel:  Are you sure? You've only got one for the whole game.
 
Devon:  I'm sure. Once I get rolling proper, I can take this cooze no problem.
 
Marilyn:  Excuse me, but that's rude.
 
Mel:  Goddamn right it is.  Devon, so you're using your emergency line.
 
Devon:  Yes, I am.
 
Mel:  Then you get one hint.  This weirdo's love for his dead wife is implicit in the painting Beata Beatrix.
 
Devon:   ...

Mel:  Beata. Beatrix.
 
Devon:  I don't... fuck.
 
Mel:  I'll assume this is going nowhere...
 
Devon:  Raphael?
 
Mel:  No, not even close.  It was Dante Gabriel Rossetti.  Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
 
Devon:  Of course. Of course.
 
Mel:  Like you really knew that, Devon.  Marilyn! This is your chance to surge ahead. Are you ready?
 
Marilyn:  I am.
 
Mel:  Then let's go to a commercial break.  We'll be right back after this word from our sponsors.

 
#

 
Mel:  And we're back.  It's been a lackluster opening for both our contestants.  So far Devon is proving god loves a blind dog, while Marilyn is holding on by a tampon string.
 
Marilyn:  We're tied right now.

Mel:  Thanks Marilyn.  Nobody cares. Still, here's your chance to bring the hammer down.  For $150, can you tell me what classic erotic novel John Cleland is famous for?
 
Marilyn:  ...I don't really read erotica.
 
Mel:  Nobody does. Depending on your gear, people are either rubbing one out or in.  But I need an answer, quick as you can... right now.
 
Marilyn:  Fanny Hill?
 
Mel:  That's the best you can come up with?  Well, the judges'll take it, and so will I.  The full title, to remedy your ignorance, is Fanny Hill, or The Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure.  And they were spicy tales, according to the footnote on my card.  That puts you in the lead!  Which means it's time for our first bribe.

Marilyn
:  This is the part that worries me.
 
Mel:  Don't worry. You've got plenty of cash.  But remember:  spend it wisely.  Coming onto the stage is our private investigator Joe Sanders.  How you doing Joe?  
  
Joe:  My balls ache from fucking your girlfriend, sack slappin' against her ass, but I'm aight.
 
Mel:  Well, that was tasteless.  Joe, what have you got for us?
 
Joe:  Two nights ago I managed to photograph Marilyn here performing a particularly illegal act.
 
Marilyn:  Oh god...
 
Mel:  Marilyn knows what you're talking about, Joe.

Joe
:  I'm sure she does.  That shit was fucking whackadew.
 
Marilyn:  I'd like to offer all of my cash.
 
Mel:  Whoa! Marilyn, calm down.

Joe:  I will take all that cash.
 
Mel:  I'm sure you will, however, Marilyn, are you sure that's such a good idea?
 
Marilyn:  Absolutely.  I... I...
 
Mel:  Don't cry dear.  Don't cry. Joe, you're getting all her money, but we're not done yet.
 
Joe:  Not by a long shot.  I also got a few snappies of Devon here at the local titty bar last night.
 
Devon:  Bring it motherfucker.

Mel:  Devon, are you saying you're not giving up any of your cash?
 
Devon:  Fuck no. I'm not bribing this greasy piece of shit.  I know what's coming, and as usual, I don't give a fuck.
 
Mel:  That's my man; and why you keep on winning:  no shame.  Joe, throw your picture up on the big screen... and can we get a mop for Marilyn.  She is crying to water the world.
 
Marilyn:  I'm a horrible person.
 
Mel:  Be quiet Marilyn.  It isn't about you right now.  Joe! Put up that picture!  HOLY FUCKING GOD!  Devon!  You are taking a solid dump on that stripper.
 
Devon:  After I hit her with a bottle of tequila.  Knocked her right out.
 
Joe:  I didn't catch that part.  Sorry, Mel.
 
Mel:  It would have looked good as a sequence, but hey, we'll take what we can get.  Devon, displaying no shame, returns to the lead. However, Marilyn isn't out of the race.  After all, she's still got her secret. We'll see how she cashes it in later. So don't go anywhere because we'll be right back with more Win, Lose, or Suicide!


#

 
Mel:  It's been an interesting game so far.  Twenty minutes of combat and some frankly disturbing revelations on both side -- Devon, deranged as usual, and Marilyn, apparently a hobo carving housewife -- we're coming to the end of the line.
 
Marilyn:  I can feel my soul screaming.
 
Mel:  That's great, Marilyn.  We're going to need that dramatic energy for the final round.  Devon, you're currently in the lead with $900.  Plus, you've got three secrets stashed you can trade in for bonus cash.  What are your plans?
 
Devon:  To rip this twisted bitch's ass wide open.
 
Mel:  Good man. Marilyn, how's that make you feel?
 
Marilyn:  I don't think I feel anything anymore.  I thought this was just a trivia show.
 
Mel:  Well, trivia stems from the word trivial, and there are a lot of meanings in there. Okay!  Let's get roaring.  Audience, it's that time.  We're about to bring out some thermonuclear revelations about the people our contestants care about, things which may change their opinion of loved ones forever. However, they can always pay for silence.  Devon, you've got the lead, so that means Marilyn gets to go first.  Look up there honey.
 
Marilyn:  What?
 
Mel:  That's a picture of your husband, Andrew, correct?

Marilyn:  Yes.
 
Mel:  And how long have you two been married?
 
Marilyn:  14 years.
 
Mel:  And I assume he doesn't know about the hobo stabbings.
 
Marilyn:  No.
 
Mel:  As it should be.  Now, Marilyn, you're in a close second with $800.  If Devon ends up spending over a hundred for whatever reason, you can win this game.
 
Marilyn:  Joy.
 
Mel:  Try to sound like you mean it.  Because here's the catch:  you could win if you don't spend a dime.  However, that close up of your husband we just put on screen is about to pull back unless you offer our investigator a bribe.
 
Marilyn:  I don't... there's nothing they could... Andrew is a good man.
 
Mel:  I'm sure you think that.  But we're about to find out just how good.  The question is can you live with what you're about to learn?  Because if you can don't spend any cash.
 
Marilyn:  Mel, I'm going to let you show me that picture.
 
Mel:  God bless you, Marilyn.  When I heard about this one I thought to myself, "Please have the lady balls to let us show this."  And here it is:  your husband punching a five year old child straight in the face.
 
Marilyn:  I'm sure he had his reasons.
 
Mel:  You are a devoted woman, Marilyn, and I respect that.
 
Marilyn:  Thanks. I think.
 
Mel:  Devon, get your ass down here.
 
Devon:  No need, Mel. I'm not spending a dime.  I don't give a fuck what you got.

Mel:  Even granny porn?
 
Devon:  I'll give you a hundred bucks not to put the photo up.

Joe:  SOLD!
 
Mel:  Fan-tastic! Cuz I don't want to see that shit either.  However, holy crippled Christ, we've got a tie.  Audience, you know what that means... right now our technicians are leading our two contestants to the isolation booths where they'll be subjected to the most hideous revelations about themselves we could unearth. Whoever doesn't kill themselves will be our winner.         
             But while they're in there, being reminded of the nightmare people they are, I'd like to say a word about Crispy Carnival Flakes.  Not every breakfast is a delight, and eating right can be such a bore.  Crispy Carnival Flakes are bursting with everything you need to put a smile on your face.  They're sweetly delicious and surprisingly nutritious.  You won't believe they're good for you.  Crunch into a carnival of taste today.
         ...and the sound of that shotgun can mean only one thing.  We have a winner!  And the booths are opening; and our winner is -- here's a real shocker folks! -- Marilyn.  Marilyn is today's champion.  Congratulations.
 
Marilyn:  Yeah, well, uh huh, yeah.

Mel:  That means she keeps all the money she has left and will be back tomorrow to compete again on Win, Lose, or Suicide!             
          That's all the time we have folks.  Thanks for tuning in, and remember:  society may be spiraling down a chaotic
stygian nightmare, but that doesn't mean you can't crunch into a carnival of taste. Goodnight everybody.
 


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