THE TRADEMARK BUBBLES WIND DOWN AS THE INTRODUCTION THEME MUSIC ENDS.

That's-a fine boys-a. Now-a ladies and-a gentlemen please-a welcome Myron Floren to play-a "Baby, Baby, Let-a Me See Your-a Mojo".

A-one, a-two ...

THE WELK ORCHESTRA BEGINS THEIR TUNE, WITH MR. FLOREN OUT FRONT PLAYING HIS ACCORDION LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW.

LAWRENCE IS STRUTTING BACK AND FORTH ON THE EDGE OF THE STAGE AREA.

SUDDENLY, MR. WELK SIGNALS TO THE BAND TO STOP PLAYING.

Hold it-a, boys-a! Hold it-a! Listen-a, somebody's-a blowing clams up-a there.

(points to the brass section)

Now-a, who is it-a? Don't-a make me get-a violent now. Who-a was it-a?

EVERYBODY IS SILENT.

(turns to the TV camera)

Folks-a, please-a welcome our newest-a sponsor, the fine people at Ex-a-lax.

Ok, folks, we're off.

What's the idea Lawrence? We weren't supposed to go to a commercial for five more minutes.

Listen-a, Bobby. I can't-a stand it when-a my band starts-a screwing up. I don't-a care if we're on national TV or-a not. I'm-a going to ferret out-a the culprit or culprits even if means-a you have-a to show Woody-a Woodpecker cartoons-a the rest of the hour.

But, you can't just stop the show. There must be something in your contract about not being able to pull this type of crap.

(Welk whips out a copy of his contract)

Bobby, if it's there, I can't-a see it. You look-a for it, will you?

That's ok.

Defeated, the director falls silent.

(over the intercom)

Ok, guys, we're back in five, four, three ...

Ok, folks, welcome-a back. We're-a still here trying-a to find the guy who-a was blowing clams-a before the break. I'm-a sorry, but until we get a confession, and a repentent one, Mr. Chet-a Atkins and those cute-a Atkins-ettes aren't-a going to see this stage.

(over the intercom)

It's Atkin-ettes, not Atkins-ettes.

What?

(over the intercom)

You pronounced the name of the guest singers incorrectly.

What singers?

(over the intercom)

The Atkin-ettes. Chet's accompanying choir. Your guests!

A LONG PAUSE PUTS THE AUDIENCE IN A NERVOUS EDGE.

SUDDENLY, A MIDDLE-AGED GUY STANDS UP FROM THE TROMBONE SECTION.

WELK IMMEDIATELY SPOTS HIM.

Ok, Tom, thanks-a for having the courage to-a stand. You're fired!

THE TROMBONIST WALKS OFF.

Now, folks, back-a to the champagne music that I'm so famous-a for.

A-one, a-two, ...

THE BAND BEGINS TO PLAY THEIR RENDITION OF "PICK UP THE PIECES" WHEN, AGAIN, WELK IS SEEN COCKING HIS HEAD TO GET A BEAD ON THE SOUR NOTES ARISING FROM THE HORN SECTION.

Hold it-a, boys-a! Hold it-a! Listen-a, somebody else is-a blowing clams.

WELK WALKS OVER TO THE SAX SECTION.

Now-a, who is it-a this time? Who missed that flat in measure five?

WELK LOOKS AT HIS PLAYERS AS THEY FALL DEAD SILENT.

Ok. Ok. If-a this is the way you want-a play, fine.

WELK PULLS A PISTOL FROM UNDER HIS SUIT COAT.

Now-a, boys. Come on. Don't-a make me do it.

(Welk starts to screw on a silencer)

EVERYBODY IS SILENT.

Ok.

WELK TAKES POINT BLANK AIM AT FLOREN'S ACCORDION AND PULLS THE TRIGGER, BLOWING IT INTO A THOUSAND PIECES.

Now, do I have a confession?

EVERYBODY IS SILENT. SILENT AND AFRAID.

Ok. My, you fellas are difficult!

WELK TAKES AIM AT LARRY HOOPER.

HOOPER DARTS ABOUT AND DUCKS TO AVOID GETTING NAILED BUT WELK TAKES AIM AND PULLS THE TRIGGER. HOOPER IS WINGED AND FALLS DOWN. AUDIENCE MEMBERS ARE HORRIFIED AND BEGIN TO SLUMP DOWN IN THEIR SEATS.

How about now? Now do I have a confession?

I did it.

What?! What in the world are-a you doing in-a my band?

I thought I'd surprise you, Mr. Welk. That's all.

(over the intercom, laughing)

Mr. Welk, I'm sorry, that little bit of hijinx was my idea.

Your idea, Bobby? Well-a I didn't-a like it.

SUDDENLY MR. WELK PULLS OUT A HAND-PUPPET AND STARTS TO CHAT WITH MR. ATKINS.

(in a high voice)

High, Mr-a. Atkins. Now-a tell me sir. When did you first-a realize that you-a were proficient enough to take a, ah, shot at the guitar?

(looks puzzled)

I don't get it.

(looks around for help)

(in a high voice)

Hey, Chet, look at me. Not the director!

Now tell me sir. When did you first realize that you were proficient enough to take a, ah, shot at the guitar?

ATKINS GETS UP, THREATENING TO LEAVE.

Go ahead! Who needs you?!

ATKINS LEAVES. MOTIONING TO THE ATKIN-ETTES TO FOLLOW HIM.

(in a high voice)

Hey, don't take them! WAIT!