99.1 - crank it higher every time they told you to stop

[hard_talker]

[broadcasting. it's not something he really wants to do, when he wakes up in the morning and realizes it's Monday. he's perfectly inclined to ignore the journal for the rest of the day and let everyone stew in their indecision and their squabbling, because things are pretty much a mess.

and then Jet asks what happened, and he finds that he's more than happy to tell him. at dinnertime, he goes down to the kitchen, grabs a bag of chips and a Pepsi, and takes Nora's tie-dye banner down off the wall, folding it and wearing it back up to his room over his shoulders like a kid playing dress-up. and then he sits in his chair, eating chips, reading over the last couple weeks' entries, and stewing in the physical representation of what he's beginning to think was the biggest mistake he ever made.

but the more he reads, the more he looks at it with a little distance, some rest, and some fresh eyes ... the more he realizes just what he's seeing.

so come ten o'clock, the music starts, and it just keeps on going for the first couple of songs - one of which, YES, is eleven minutes and change long.]

Hey there, hi there, ladies, gents, germs and jackasses, and welcome to Monday night on Desolation Row. I'm your host, Hard Harry, and in case you're wonderin' why you haven't heard from me in nearly two weeks? I've got a girlfriend, folks, you figure it out.

[he jams a button on his soundboard and there's a soundclip of random porn music and a falsetto "OH GOD, YES" - and then a record scratch]

But even though I'm sure you're all pretty glad you don't need to hear me fillin' up my gym socks on a regular basis anymore...? That's enough dirty talk outta me, let's get to the dirt that's goin' down around Home Sweet Castle Wonderfuck.

Two weeks' worth of new people! Let's see how fast I can rattle 'em all off. [he glances down at his list and punches a drumroll button on his soundboard as he sucks in a deep breath] Sam Flynn, Hans, Huey, Starbuck, Sarah Jane, Faramir, Boober, Tres, Esther, Jim, Rapunzel, and Vicious. PHEW. Ten seconds, not bad. Anyway, all of you, welcome to Castle Wonderfuck, if you haven't heard it from someone already.

And hey, gold stars for those've you who've been actually using your radios! But you know what I really wanna talk about today? Talking.

Because you guys are actually doing it for once! And I don't just mean going "bla bla bla losses kitchen microwave castle sucks, wanna go home", I mean you're actually getting INTO it, bringing up the things that matter to you and why, hashin' shit out. Sure, I know for a fact that a lot of you didn't like 'em, but shit, if this is what it took, I would've thrown those ten shitty little rules up MONTHS AGO.

For those of you in the dark ... allow yours truly to shed a little light on the subject. The Peace Patrol had a meeting last Monday, and the subjects of rules an' government came up. There's a lotta talk goin' on now about whether we even NEED a government, let alone how it should be set up an' who's gonna be part of it an' what kinda rules it'd follow if we had one. Personally, I think a stable government here's got as much chance as a snow cone's got in hell, if less, since we can all decide on one easy answer about as quick as a normal guy could get off watchin' Lawrence Welk. [he punches another button on the sound board and there's the sound of obnoxious polka, very briefly] But the truth is, we've got three prisoners bein' held down in the basement, and everyone's tryin' to figure out what the fuck to do with 'em. And if we ain't gonna have rules, but we're gonna try an' keep the peace anyway, where the hell is the line? And if there even IS a line, is it drawn in chalk, or Sharpie, or did we just scratch it in the sand?

I dunno where this trip we're all on now's gonna end up, but at least someone finally started up the bus. So, you guys can all either pile on and hope you packed a decent lunch, or you can stay home, so to speak. Me? I'm lookin' forward to the ride. Maybe I almost forgot for a while there, but this sorta thing is what bein' a real DJ's all about.

[and he'll let the music play again ... for all of one song]

Oh, and if you're looking for something a little less serious, turn your journals to [page number]. You might get just as much of a kick out of it as I did.

[music resumes. enjoy your broadcast day, Paradisa. he knows he certainly will]

Comments

Dictated forever

[mal_addict]

[Quietly. She's been worried about him, and knows, oh she KNOWS her leaving hasn't done much to help his mood]

I almost thought you weren't going to do it.

Sarge

[hard_talker]

Almost didn't. And then I thought about it, and I did.

[he's silent for a while, realizing how short and assish that sounds. realizing that there's something else he should REALLY be saying to her]

... M'sorry, Mal. I tried.

Harry

[mal_addict]

Glad you did. Mondays wouldn't be the same without you.

You have nothing to be sorry for. You did something that got taken out of your hands and turned into something...stupid. You weren't to know it would happen.

I was delaying the inevitable anyway. I was miserable there.

[just_monitoring]

Oh, governments are tricky business, aren't they?

[hard_talker]

You're fuckin' tellin' me. There's a reason I just barely got through Government class with a low B.

... BB, right?

[demontobeloved]

So there's a spot of trouble going on, huh?

[He's glad Phoebe talked him out of handing the potions out, if the Peace Patrol is in this much dissarray.]

[hard_talker]

Could jolly well say that, gov'nah. [he snorts, amused]

dictated

[takethat]

[He's been listening to the broadcast with mild interest, all the way until that final comment. At the sound of the page number, his stomach sinks, and he flips through his own journal just to be sure...

Yep.]

(....why me?)




Did you really have to do that?

[hard_talker]

Hmmm.

[a moment's "thought", here]

Yep!

[foolreversed]

That meeting was one heck of a gong show I'll give it that.

[hard_talker]

Tell me about it, ugh. I'm probably only goin' to the next one just to keep in the loop.

[courageous_wit]

Nice to hear you again, Hard Harry. [not going to bring up the PP meeting, nope]

[hard_talker]

Thanks, Hermione. What'cha been up to?

[eat_me_beat_me]

[She smiles. She's proud that he stepped up and did the broadcast. Proud that he didn't shrink away and hide like she was afraid he might.

Of course, any other girl might be mortified that he was using their newly kindled sex life as an excuse. Nora, however...]

Hmm. I don't think that sounds anything like me.

[hard_talker]

Sure it does. You never sound like you think you do when you listen to recordings of yourself.

[a pause]

I've got the banner if you wanna come get it.

Dictated;

[wilder]

Okay I'll bite.

What's a real DJ?

[hard_talker]

Heh heh. Depends on who you ask, but as far as I'm concerned, a real DJ is someone who plays what he wants, says what he wants, keeps it real, and generally doesn't give even half a shit about what everyone thinks he should be doing with his airtime.

Mark

[deceptorius]

[In a world where everyone's so paranoid and filters everything away from the dirty first gens, it's so nice to have Hard Harry's updates. Have some written words in familiar writing. If he can remember what her handwriting looks like.]

Jesus, sounds like you guys can't keep your shit together anymore.

Nancy

[hard_talker]

[he does - oh, he does. he reread the transcripts of their conversations a few times after she left, just to see if hindsight picked up on anything... and when he sees her writing crop up, he's not as angry as he thought he might be. just ... curious]

It's a work in progress, to put it nicely. ... You missed your shout-out.

[youfallback]

[And, of course, barkbarkbarkbarkbark.]

[hard_talker]

... huh?

[zeke_developer]

[Huey listens for a while, reminded of the DJ's that some of the recruits at Mother Base liked to talk about. Guys who did their best to sound like "Wolfman Jack" talking straight to the people.]

Thanks...umm...for the welcome, Mark.

What's this about the Peace Patrol? Agent York told me a bit, but I haven't had a chance to go down there and have a look yet. I was gonna talk to someone about what I could do to help, before I got too far into any of the projects I've started drawing up.

[hard_talker]

Hey, no prob, Huey. You settlin' in okay?

The Patrol? Jesus, it's kind of a mess right now. I mean, I'm sure they'll sort their shit out, eventually, but I'd hold back on joinin' for a while if I were you.

If you're buildin' shit, though, definitely talk to two guys that go by The Doctor. The Eleventh, if you can get him, he's a really chill guy. The Fifth is okay, too, but he's kind of stuffy and old-fashioned in that "tea and crumpets wot wot" sorta way. [he snickers] Also, f'you know York? You should talk to Carolina, too, she builds a lot of shit. Might be able to help you find stuff to work with. You can tell her "HH" sent'cha.

[he stops for a moment, then lets out a little 'huh' of amusement]

[fourtythird]

Governments are tricky situations even without whatever's been added on top here.

[hard_talker]

Yeah, I'm starting to figure that out....