[Scene: The Bridge of Death, with the gorge below shrouded in mist. The Keeper of the Bridge of Death stands sternly, as Mrs. Malaprop, the Reverend Spooner, the Riddler, the Punster, and the Backwards Speaker nervously approach.]
Keeper: Stop! Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three—ere the other side he see.
Mrs. Malaprop: Oh, I do abhor such gatekeeping gallantry, but proceed with your quiz of enigmas!
Keeper: What… is your name?
Mrs. Malaprop: I am Mrs. Malaprop, a paragon of verbal virtue!
Keeper: What… is your quest?
Mrs. Malaprop: To recover the Holy Grill, that legendary platter of divinity.
Keeper: What… is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?
Mrs. Malaprop: African or European? A question which is quite a calamity for my gastronomy!
[Mrs. Malaprop, misunderstanding herself, is magically launched into the gorge.]
Reverend Spooner: I’ll step up, my rood mangled friend!
Keeper: What… is your name?
Reverend Spooner: I am the Reverend Spooner, micker of wonds and a lost clergyman of great pith and moment.
Keeper: What… is your quest?
Reverend Spooner: To bun the farrow of light and find the darned sacred grill.
Keeper: What… is your favourite colour?
Reverend Spooner: Plue brint! …Wait, I mean blint prue!
[The Keeper sighs and sends Reverend Spooner hurtling into the gorge.]
Riddler: Now it’s my turn. Riddle me this, Keeper: What has four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three at night?
Keeper: Silence! I ask the questions here. What… is your name?
Riddler: I am the Riddler, seeker of riddles, solver of grills—wait, I mean quests.
Keeper: What… is your quest?
Riddler: To ask the unanswerable and answer the unaskable.
Keeper: What… is the capital of Assyria?
Riddler: Ha! Easy. Nineveh. But can you answer this: If you say my name, I disappear. What am I?
[The Keeper momentarily freezes in thought. Riddler triumphantly crosses the bridge.]
Punster: (Winking) Guess it’s my turn to bridge the gap, eh?
Keeper: What… is your name?
Punster: I’m the Punster. Or as some might call me, a pun-gineer.
Keeper: What… is your quest?
Punster: To seek the grill—I mean, the Holy Grail. Sorry, I’m just grilled with excitement.
Keeper: What… is 2 + 2?
Punster: (Grinning) That’s simple. Four-tunately, it’s four.
[The Keeper groans, but Punster's terrible pun grants him safe passage.]
Backwards Speaker: .kcab step I ,evol do I
Keeper: What… is your name?
Backwards Speaker: .LIRG YLOH eht rof klat dna rewsna I ,ekil sdrow ym sdniheb dniheb pu pu ekil mi
Keeper: What… is your quest?
Backwards Speaker: .tsurt ot gniht si yhW ?epacsi sretcarahc tsuguA rof tsael ta si taht ,rorrim a ni tuoba ti s’tahT
Keeper: (Confused) What… is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?
Backwards Speaker: .naidnI ro ,naeporuE sa pu dees gniyflacisyhP ?woN
[The Keeper’s brain short-circuits and he is magically launched into the gorge instead.]
[Backwards Speaker turns and, nodding smugly, crosses the bridge as the others watch from below in the gorge.]
