PAUL:	March, eh ?  The days are getting longer, now.  We are not so dark at 
	five o'clock in the afternoon as we were in December and January.

	There is figurative light at the end of the weather tunnel, too.  
	We recall there are sport shirts and shorts somewhere in the closet.  
	Time marches on, the annual flight to Florida is in the cards.

	Sometimes, though, months don't mean anything.  Who notices July turning 
	into August, or November into October ?  If it weren't for birthdays and 
	anniversaries and such, most months wouldn't even have a name.

	But some months are different, some have a definite physical effect.

	And March has the worst. 

	It's the time of despair, hopelessness, and mass suicide.

	When police and port authorities find neatly folded clothes atop pairs 
	of shoes all along the waterfronts of the province, they know it's time 
	for the annual winter dredging of the harbours.

	Oh, god, Dad, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I never had the opportunity to tell 
	you ... this burning in my arm ... to tell you you were a complete shit to me !  
	Out in the garage, oh yeah, working on the car, that's real life.  That's 
	taking care of the family, oh yeah ... Me and Mom and Frank ... oh god, 
	I'm tired.  And there's this ... blazing indigestion ... not to mention, 
	today I host my 200th episode of The Great Eastern and do you think anybody 
	noticed ?  Not one person in the whole building said anything ... what I put 
	up with for this station and this show ... the embarrassment of the ratings, 
	the image thing ... no Radio Award ... the disaster of "The Moth Interviews" 
	can't even get the prime minister of the province in for a chat ... pulling 
	a muscle on the abductor ... sucked into the airwaves ... I'm still being 
	stalked by the Mad Scot ... Mom sick ... reliving my abductions ... no love 
	in my life ... and no way to deal with any of this cause I'm on the wagon ... 
	I ... god ... I (suck breath through teeth) ... where's the ... oh god, ohmigod 
	... the spots ... I can't breathe !  I can't breathe !!

SFX:	BUTTONS POPPING OFF HIS SHIRT, STARTS KNOCKING THINGS OFF THE TABLE, MIC GOES OVER

Ah !  Ah !!  Ah !!!

BLACK

CLOSING THEME