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Green Acres 8: Not A Milton Berle Sketch free porn video
Green Acres 8: Not a Milton Berle Sketch
By Ron Dow75
The first thing Oliver Wendell Douglas saw when he opened his
eyes was a black dildo laying on top of the cover. "AAA-nh!!" he
screamed, leaping out of bed. (The lighter party favors were
stirred up by his draft of his billowy nightgown.)
"Oliver, what's the mattser?!!" his wife asked, concerned.
"Lisa, you didn't do it to me again, did you!?!!" the man in the
long, green silk nightgown demanded and prayed.
"Do whats?" she asked as if she didn't know, gesturing with a
hand that casually held yet another one.
"The dildo!!" he gestured. And he saw, now, that there was a pile
of them on top of the bed.
"No, I didn'ts," she assured him. And she reached down and picked
up something from her side of the bed. "But I thoughts if I was
going to be stucks in bed for three weeks, I had to have
something to help the time pass." It was a large brown paper bag.
To which, she dropped the dildo in her hand.
"Fine! But I don't want anything to do with your hobby!" he told
her in a no-uncertain tone.
"You sure you don'ts wants to?" she asked, continuing to put the
dildos in the bag. "We are sure to come up with positions we've
never tried before."
"I am too old to learn from the 'Kama Sutra'," he said, moving
(and breaking streamers) to the closet to change out of his
soiled nightgown. "The last time I tried, I ended up with a
sprained big toe, and my nose out of joint!"
"And it's never been in joints since."
He slid the closet door open. "Never mind about my--" And the
door slid off its metal track, and fell on the bedroom floor.
(All of the favors jumped.) Again. "--It's daylight out!!" he saw
when he looked into the closet without a back wall.
"You didn'ts see that's before? We have two bedroom windows over
here, and very large windows peoples only see in exterior shots
of the fronts."
"Why didn't I wake up with the rooster?" he asked himself.
"Because I turned him off," Lisa told him.
"A rooster is not an alarm clock!" he said, pulling off his green
nightgown.
"Then why did Walter have an off-switch?" Lisa justified what
she'd done, "You were up in the middle of the night giving birth.
You deserved to sleep in."
"I can't sleep for as long as I want, whether I deserved it for
laying a stupid egg, or not!" he paused to look out of the gown's
neckline. "I'm a farmer! I have chores to do!!"
"No, you don'ts! I'm a firm believer in maternity's leave! Every
mother has a rights to Labor Day, whenever it's is. No working
for ats least three months!"
"Three months!?! The egg would only take three to hatch!" he
tossed the nightgown down. That was how upset he was.
"Good! It will give you some time to bond with your child!"
"I have no time for bonding, or any other nonsense! I have to
milk Eleanor!" he reached into the closet.
"You don'ts have to milk Eleanor."
"Oh, yes, I do!" he grabbed the first silky thing he felt. "I
know what she goes through--Believe me: I know!"
"What do you know?" Oliver Wendell Douglas heard a male voice say
from the other side of the clothes.
"What!!?" he reflexively cried; he brought the thing already in
his hand up in front of him. It was the pink nightgown.
"If you don't know what you know, I certainly don't know," said
the small, bandy-legged, but fit fifty-something-year-old brunet
in work boots, white overalls, painter's cap, and a clean blue
shirt. He was carrying a toolbox.
All of the dildos were in the bag, which she had placed on the
floor: "Hello, Alf!" Lisa Douglas said to the intruder, while
Oliver Douglas was forced to hide behind the negligee, keeping it
between Alf and his panties.
"Hello, Mrs. Douglas," Alf Monroe greeted her, putting his
fingers to his cap's bill. "I take it with the "Man of the House"
up, I'm free to work in here?"
"'Man of the House'--What do you mean by that crack!?!" Oliver
Douglas challenged him, almost lowering the silk negligee.
"I'm glad you asked!" Alf said, sitting the toolbox down on the
settee at the foot of the bed. "As my brother Ralph has probably
told you, I was away at a seminar..."
"She did," Lisa said. "That was in Chapter Three."
"...I won't waste any more of my life as a carpenter! You do your
best to build something that will last, then you're out of a job,
because it lasts!"
"Not the way 'The Monroe Brothers' build things!" Oliver Douglas
said, despite the fact he was slipping the nightgown over his
bent body as quickly as he could while trying to hide from the
other man the fact that he was wearing green crotchless panties
with frills over the elastics.
"Exactly! How many times do you think we can keep wrecking
things?"
"114?" Lisa asked.
"That's why I went to the seminar. I am now an exclusive
franchise holder for the valley!" he informed them, opening up
his toolbox.
"What's the franchise, mend-all glue?" Mr. Douglas asked
sarcastically, having successfully (he hoped) gotten the negligee
on without being embarrassed any more than he had to be. "You're
going to make your fortune finally fixing all of the things
you've broken."
"No," Alf said, pulling out a sample. "I am the local
representative of 'Gorgeous Gentleman Cosmeticals'."
"What!!?!" Oliver Douglas said in shock.
"'Gorgeous Gentleman' believes that any man can be gorgeous, if
they follow the simple 243 page instructions that are given away
free (for a limited time only) with the purchase of any of our
products!" Alf repeated the sales line he'd memorized. "That even
means you, Mr. Douglas."
"Why would I want to be gorgeous?!!"
"Oh, Oliver!!" Lisa cried. "Ever since we gots married, you've
been letting your appearance slide! This proves you don'ts care
any more!!"
"I do care! That's why I don't want to have anything to do with
it!!"
"vWah!" Lisa cried. "This isn't about caring about your
appearance; this is about caring about our marriage!!"
"You'll have to excuse her, Alf!" Oliver Douglas said, his
mocking tone competing with his other emotions, "She's brooding
an egg. You know how expectant mothers are!"
"I'm not the mother!" Lisa continued with her crying. "I can't be
a mother! All I can be is a surrogate!"
"You called, Mrs. Douglas?!" Ralph Monroe asked, entering through
the bedroom door. She was dressed like her brother, Alf, but
carrying a feather duster.
"I cried!!" Mrs. Douglas said, getting a tissue from the
dispenser on her nightstand, and blowing daintily into it.
"You big meanie! What have you done to her, now!" Ralph accused
Mr. Douglas, coming over to the bed.
"She wants me to wear makeup!!"
"If it makes your wife happy, is it going to hurt you to wear
makeup?!" the mop-top strawberry blond with the perpetual scowl
stood by her fellow woman.
"Yes!!"
"'Gorgeous Gentleman' is guaranteed to be hypoallergenic, and,
generally, non-caustic." Alf repeated his lesson. "With regular
use of the cold cream, your pores should not become clogged, and
your wrinkles should, uh, should..."
"Your wrinkles should not be accentuated! Can't you remember
anything!" Ralph scolded her brother.
"I'm sorry! I have a hard time remembering manuals."
"You don't even read manuals! You'd rather spend your time
watching radio. I'm the one who has to learn them all for us!"
"Watching radio?" Oliver Douglas found himself asking.
"Ever since WPIX started simul-casting on WLEY, my brother has
become an addict!" Ralph looked at him with disapproval.
"It's true," Alf hung his head. He took out a transistor radio
from one of his top overall pockets. "The soaps are the worst!"
"They certainly are," Oliver Douglas said.
"Ditto," Ralph agreed with the big meanie for once.
"Do you likes 'All Our Miseries'?" Lisa asked, drying her eyes
with a tissue.
"That's a good one," Alf nodded. "But my favorite is 'Will
Tomorrow Ever Come?'."
"That's how I feel," Oliver Douglas said.
"Mrs. Douglas, is there anything I can get for you?" Ralph asked.
"A glass of water? A new box of tissue? An egg cozy? A pickle?"
"No thanks you, Ralph. I have everything I need for the moment."
"Then I'll get back to the housework," she slowly turned to
leave, keeping her scowling gaze on Mr. Douglas.
"'Housework'?!" Mr. Douglas yelped.
"Yes. If I'm going to be laid up in bed for three weeks while I
sits on our egg, I'm going to need a maid!" Lisa explained what
was clear to her.
"Then don't sit on the egg!" Oliver gestured 'get up' in her
direction.
Ralph swiveled around from the top of split-level: "I'm not
sitting on anybody's egg!" Ralph told him. "I'm not even
married!"
"Sitting on an egg??" Alf asked, confused. "What would Mom say!"
he said, taken aback.
"Mom won't say anything, if you keep your big yap shut,
tattletale!" Ralph came back down the stairs, ready to belt him.
"See the troubles you've caused?!" Lisa accused Oliver. "Isn't
your being a heartless mother bad enough?! You want to drag poor
Ralph into our scandal!"
"If there's going to be a scandal, I definitely have to tell
Mom," Alf said. "Before she hears about it from a stranger."
"Now, see what you've done!" Ralph yelled at Mr. Douglas.
"Again!"
She turned to the woman, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Douglas, but I'm afraid
I can't work for you."
"I quite understand, Ralph," Lisa said. "I can'ts tell you how
many maids we losted in New York because of all of the scandals
Mr. Douglas was involved in."
"You can't tell her, because there weren't any!!" Mr. Douglas
defended himself.
"Ose? Weren'ts you the hots-shots lawyer thats was 'Attorney to
Broadway Stars'?"
"No! I was a corporate lawyer! I represented their agencies!"
"They say there's a broken bulb in the lights of Broadway for
every heartsless talents agents. And Mr. Douglas was ones of the
chief party poppers."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"Don'ts go defending yourself, Oliver. You know whats they say,
'the lawyer has a fool for a clients'!"
"I have a fool for a wife."
"Maybe I should risk public humiliation, condemnation, and
censure, Mrs. Douglas," Ralph said. "You need somebody around to
protect you from him!"
"Why can't somebody want to help protect me!" Oliver Douglas felt
the frustration again.
"Seems to me, that's a line better used by your maids."
"You protect yourself, Ralph," Lisa told her. "It's is too lates
for me. I am accustomed to the abuse, public, and... privates."
"What abuse!!?!!"
"Sounds like verbal abuse to me!" Ralph told him.
"Sounds loud to me," Alf said, clearing out the ringing in his
ear with his little finger.
"I can't stay here," Ralph finally agreed with Mrs. Douglas. "I'd
end up on charges of man handling, if not man slaughter."
"She was always the violent one," Alf told Mr. Douglas.
"Watch it! I'm also a carpenter; there's always the mandrill!"
"This has gone on far too long," Oliver Douglas said. "Wrap this
up, so I can change into something else!"
"Why? I think you look handsome," Alf told him.
"There's another reason I can't be your maid, Mrs. Douglas. You
don't have a proper maid's uniform."
"Ose! That's rights! We had to flee from the scandal so quicksly,
all we grabbed from Manhattan was butler's uniforms!" Lisa
realized.
"What scandal!!?! And what butler?!! We've never had a butler!"
Oliver Douglas insisted.
"Yes, we have! We've always had butlers!" Lisa insisted. "And
they all wear whites caps and aprons, short black dresses with
whites frilly petticoats, garters belts and black hose, with
black heels."
"That's a maids uniform!!"
"Why would a woman want to wear men's clothes!?!!" Ralph told
him. "No wonder you have a hard time keeping maids! Talk about
scandals!"
"Er, I'm a man," Alf hesitantly raised his hand.
"What!?!!" Oliver Douglas cried in shock again.
"You want to be a maid!??!" Alf's sister said. "I'll do the
tattling to Mom, if you try that!"
"No!" Alf glared at her for the ridiculous thought. "A butler!"
"You don't have the legs for it," Ralph told him. "You're a
bandy-legged little man, to repeat a description of you."
"And you're matronly," Alf returned a description. "This isn't
about fashion; it's about having a job besides carpentry! You
know, something I can fall back on during the slow season."
"It's always a slow season for us," Ralph said.
"I thought you were going to try and sell that men's
emasculation!" Oliver Douglas said.
"It's a men's masculation!" Alf insisted. "I told you, that it
can make any man handsome."
"...If you follow the 243 page instructions," Ralph reminded her
brother.
"...or so the 'Gorgeous Gentleman's Cosmetical' Company
believes," Lisa further added, nodding her head.
"And there are the loopholes!" Mr. Douglas gave his lawyerly
consultation.
"How do you know!?!" Ralph demanded. "Have you tried it?!"
"No! Never!"
"Do you know anybody who's tried it?!"
"Why would any man in his right mind try it!?!"
"Are you sure you haven't tried it?" Ralph dug.
"I know, Ralph!" Alf said. "Why don't you take over my franchise
while I'm the butler! You know the manual and the 243 page
instructions better than I do!"
"Me, sell cosmeticals!?!" Ralph scoffed at the idea. "That's for
men!"
"Sure, they are!" Alf told her. "And the surest way to sell
anything to a man is through sex!"
"Sex?! Ralph!?" Oliver Douglas scoffed even more.
"Watch it, buster! I'm more of a woman than most of the women you
see my age around here."
"That, I have to agree with," Oliver Douglas nodded.
"Unfortunately."
"It's all the wonderful country living we do," Alf said. "Hey,
Ralph! Why don't you put on your city clothes! You know, the
double-breasted pinstripe with the high-collared shirt, and the
snap-brim hat. It's a real power suit. It makes you look like a
gangster."
"That's sexy??" Oliver Douglas could only shake his head, trying
to get the image out.
"This from a man who thinks women in butler's uniforms is sexy,"
Ralph sneered.
"I think it's a greats idea, Ralph," Lisa Douglas said to her.
"You're a natsural-born saleswoman. You have a way with people."
"Especially men," Oliver Douglas said.
"That's why you've been married so often," Alf told her.
"I've never been married!" Ralph said, before she realized she'd
been insulted.
"No, you don'ts sell things to men. Like your brother Alf said,
the list of things men are interested in is limited. It's women
who do the shopping and buying," Lisa gave Ralph that 'knowing
look' that women often give each other.
"Oh! I see!" Ralph said, hearing that 'knowing look'. "Go over
the men's head to the wives!"
"Rights!" Lisa smiled, pleased that her look got through. "After
all, it's nots the men who have to looks ats themselves!"
"Oh, no!!" Oliver said, heading for the closet. "You're not going
to 'wive' me into wearing makeup! --Or cosmetics!!"
"There goes our best customer," Alf said.
"I'm not a customer! Nothing's been bought! And you had better
not buy any of that, that 'Dr. Goldfinger' gilding! You hear me,
Lisa!! Because if you do..." he raised up his fist and cocked his
arm as far back as he'd ever threatened her.
"I promise that I will not buy any cosmetics," Lisa said sweetly.
And when he refused to put down his fist, "Or makeup."
When Oliver Douglas had left the room through the bedroom closet,
Alf moved his toolbox over, and sat down on the settee. "Finally,
I can sit down. I never knew Mr. Douglas to stand for so long.
It's like that nightie gives him stamina."
"Ose, it does," Lisa smiled.
"All all of us have been doing is standing and talking," Ralph
said.
"Not Mrs. Douglas," Alf corrected.
"I've been sitting and talking."
"We haven't gotten to do any thing but talk!" Ralph said, feeling
restless.
"Then why don't you 'do' something!" Alf told her. "Get into your
power suit, and get out selling the cosmeticals, so I can get
into the butler's uniform, and get to doing the housework. I want
to show-off for Mrs. Douglas."
"That's a wonderful idea, Alf!" Lisa Douglas said.
"See?!" he said to Ralph. "I told you I could have wonderful
ideas (he-ha!)" Then he stopped in the middle of his big silly
grinning laugh to asked Mrs. Douglas, "What's my wonderful idea?"
"To sell somethings, you need a demonstration model!" Lisa told
him. "Between whats I know about cosmeticals, and whats Ralph has
read, we can gets you looking so handsome, peoples have just gots
to buy some for their own husbands or boyfriends!"
"Alf, a model? The stuff would have to be good to make that ugly
mug handsome," Ralph said.
"Hey! I'm not even close to being the ugliest man in the valley!
What about Mr. Ziffel?!"
"He's next," Lisa smiled.
"Yeah!" Ralph confirmed, getting that 'knowing look'. "If we're
going to have men in dresses, we're going to have to do something
to them so they don't look ridiculous! This is not a Milton Berle
sketch."
The End of this installment
An explanation: Lisa Douglas has convinced the people of
Hooterville to try transvestitism as a way to get rid of their
nearly 100-year-old weirdness-causing curse that's centered on
the farm. Mr. Haney, meanwhile, has hopes of using a side-effect
to make himself rich. While Lisa, now, hopes to use that to...
well, you'll see. My favorite description of the old show is:
Surreal. Oliver was the only one who never got use to the
strangeness.
Note: "196-": I didn't want to commit to a date, yet. The show
ran from Sept. 1965-71.
Note: Yes, I know they get their water through a hand pump in the
kitchen, but a faucet in the bathroom. (Wait until you see their
shower.) This is "Green Acres". When there's an opening, I'll
explain it.
Note: Why didn't he have to milk Eleanor? Why didn't he feel the
need to give milk, himself? Same explanation as the above "Note".
About the "I-DNA": That's another of my ideas, and based on the
same joke. But it, as yet, is marginal to the idea I plan to
explain everything with. Yes, I am working towards an explanation
that will wrap everything up. I'm sorry I can't be clearer to
some people, but to write, I have to write towards something.
Making connections helps inspire me. That means I do try to be
consistent.
About the "not liM": ' Just me trying to be surreal. For those
who don't get it, it's "Milton" as in "Not a Milton Berle
Sketch".
Notes to Chapter 03 & 04): The spirit of the Indian medicine man
"Green Acres" still haunted the farm. And one of the things it
haunted was the tractor. As anybody who's seen the show knows,
the tractor had a mind of its own, and that mind was set on
making its 'owner's' life even more miserable.
The 'curse' extended to the whole valley. "Haney Place" was just
the epicenter of the magic of "most sacred land of his people".
The tractor re-invigorated the spell by plowing a "magic circle"
around Great Hooterville that concentrated the "fall-out" from
the epicenter. Part of that second boundary ran along the train
tracks. The Shady Rest Hotel (also, as anybody familiar with that
show knows) was on the other side of the line; it was more a
witness to the weird, rather than a place where that much of it
happened. The train's water tower, though, was on the wrong side
of the tracks.
Single quotation 'curse'? It may not be a curse, after all, if I
can reach the explanation I have in mind. But first must come an
entertaining story, chapter by chapter. The final explanation is
when I connect everything, and fit all of the pieces together.
I'm working for (as much as memory and system overload will
allow) a jigsaw, not a quilt.
Past tense? This is an alternative reality. The spell could be
broken. Or...
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