🎙️ Bayou Broadcast: Bettie & Dale Watch Young Frankenstein Filed from Dale’s bunker, where the fog rolls in like a punchline and the popcorn smells faintly of formaldehyde.
🧠Your Hosts
Dale T. Doll: Horror’s vinyl oracle, now sporting a monocle and a lightning rod.
Pretty Bayou Bettie: Southern Gothic incarnate, with a parasol stitched from lab coats and a thermos of brain tonic.
🌩️ Scene: The Bunker, Midnight with Thunder BETTIE (adjusting her corset): “Dale, sugar, this castle’s got more cobwebs than my Aunt Magnolia’s attic. I brought strudel and a shock-proof shawl.”
DALE (cranking the reel): “Tonight’s feature: Young Frankenstein — a stitched-up satire where science gets silly and monsters learn to tap dance.”
🎬 Movie Begins A young Dr. Frankenstein (that’s Fronkensteen, thank you) inherits his grandfather’s Transylvanian estate and promptly reanimates a corpse with the help of Igor (eye-gore), Inga, and a violin-playing housekeeper named Frau Blücher (cue horse whinny).
DALE: “This is what happens when you mix grave-robbing with vaudeville. It’s a love letter to Universal horror, sealed with a rubber chicken.”
BETTIE: “That monster’s got more charm than a debutante ball. And he dances better than my cousin Earl after three mint juleps.”
🧪 The Fallout DALE: “It’s not just parody—it’s reverence in a lab coat. Young Frankenstein resurrects the genre with affection and absurdity.”
BETTIE: “And it’s got more fog than a bayou in mourning. I give it five bolts and a tap-dancing thunderclap.”
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