paradisa | 530 - no I never liked disco

[Monday night? Check. 10 PM? Check. Leonard Cohen's "Everybody Knows" over the journals and the radios, for those who own them? Super-check.]

Happy Monday, Wonderfuckers! This is your resident DJ, Hard Harry, one year older and twelve months cruder, openin' up the airwaves and lettin' it rip. [to prove his relative maturity, there's a classic fart noise from his sound board. and you thought he was growing up.] ... And hey, whichever one of you shitheads gave me a walker with tennis balls on it, I'm gonna find you and put sardines in your bedsheets. [he sounds pleased enough, despite the threat. all the gag gifts Nora solicited seem to have taken the edge off his birthday blues] As for the popsicle sticks, in keeping what seems to suddenly be a theme, I'm currently building a scale model of the Trojan Rabbit, so if anyone wants to use it to sneak into a tiny castle full of rude French people, lemme know. The rest of this shit? I'll find a use for it. Never fear. [he's got a special project in mind for the blow-up dolls from Tucker, but that's being saved for a rainy day, when people have completely forgotten that they even exist]

Let's roll out the red carpet for this week's Blanketeers: Carley, Joel, Molly, Tess, and Terry. And if you've got a better nickname than that, I'm still taking suggestions from last week's broadcast, I just pulled that one out of - well. Let's just say I washed it off before I tried it out in public, and leave it at that. [he'll explain the logic behind the term if anyone asks, but really he's just as content to leave it be and make people wonder]

And if you don't feel like hoppin' on the old welcome wagon this week, my buddy Gary's looking for information about what you folks consider monsters to be, back home. Hit him up, because sharing is caring, and nothin' says caring like using violence as slang for communication, especially in conjunction with talkin' about shit that scares the bejeezus outta you. But for now, let's get our weekly jam on, shall we? I know I gave you a shot of Everclear last week, but I think we need just a little more, for the hell of it.

[and away we go! the playlist gets almost to the end, maybe a minute or so of the last song left, before it cuts out with a sudden pop and crackle]

What the shit? ... Hold on, folks. Technical malfunction ... Play button's still on. Light's on. CD's practically brand fuckin' new ... and it's still spinning... what the hell is wrong with my --

[and then he finds the culprit - a frayed wire, and his birthday present from Katniss, looking very pleased with himself]

HARVEY! Goddammit. ... Well, nothin' me and Radio Shack can't handle ...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hope you enjoyed your baconade, it'd wash down that year older real well.

[He's not going to comment on the monster thing, because, well, his monsters are very real. But his eyes do float up to Mark's normal list of newcomers and...oh]

Oh yeah probably should have warned you about Molly.

...

Good luck, bro.

I enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than I expected to, actually. Bacon and lemonade are fucking amazing together, who knew?

... And lemme guess, she's the ray of sunshine who just called in?

You always find them in state fairs, they should probably make it a staple drink.

Pretty much. She's a good person, she's just...been through a lot of shit, and been on her own for most of it.

On her own? With all those walkers around? ... Holy shit. That must have been scary as hell. [he winces]

I won't mess with her, then. Scout's honor.

Not only walkers, but she had to deal with a crazy-fuck community that sprung up in her city. They only let the strong stay with them, anyone too old, young, sick or weak to benefit them were-

Well. It was just very fucked up.

Thanks. She can definitely handle herself, I just don't want you meeting the nasty end of Hilda.

530 - no I never liked disco

Mark

Ben

Mark

Ben, to end

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