Timothy Hunter (perfecttim) wrote in chaos_cube, @ 2008-02-28 00:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | tim hunter |
KUBE Broadcast
There is a series of five notes that echo through out the residence. For any geeks who might be listening, it's the same five notes used in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Cause, Tims nerdy like that. But, after the notes, the broadcast begins.
"Ladies and gentleman, children of all ages! That's right, it's time once again for Kay You Bee Eee, KUBE radio. Once again, if you don't feel like listening in, concentrate on ignoring this broadcast, and it will fade away. Don't you wish everything was like that?"
Down in the Lobby Tim is seated in wheely chair, spinning back and forth happily. He figures if he's going to be a dj, he might as well have the chair. "So, to start the night off right, let's have some news! We've got three, count 'em three lovely new residents to our, uh, residence. Now I'm not going to name names, cause that would be rude, but if any of you ladies want to call in and introduce yourselves on air? Fine with me."
He pushes off of a pillar, gliding across the floor as he spins his wand. "now before we get to the music, I'll explain again how this works. Anyone who want to get on the air, whether for an interview, a discussion, a request or what have you, all you need to do is say 'Tim' and then follow it up with what you want now-"
Tim pauses for a moment, his head cocked to the side, listening. "Well, whaddya know! We've got our first caller, ready and willing to talk. He wants to be anonymous and-" Tim twirls his wand, reaching out his powers to try and get a feel for the caller, and failing miserbaly. "Caller, I'm getting the idea that you're calling me from some where dark, underground, touching wood that's touching water. Are you in a grave?"
A new voice comes over the broadcast, a slightly distorted voice. "That's none of your god damn business Tim. Just a precaution I've made, in case."
"Well, all right caller, but what should we call you?"
"Mister B will do. As to what I want, well. I have here in my grubby little pa-hands a lovely little wooden puzzle piece I happened to find a while. It does me no good. Especially with all these people hidin' and hoardin 'em. So what I'm wantin' is, well, make me an offer. Not you magic ass, I don't trust you, but any of the others. Anyone can call in and offer me something in exchange for my little piece. Ad yes, I do accept sexual services."
With a roll of his eyes, Tim jumps right back into the flow. "Well, you heard it here first folks. Someone has a piece up for sale. Call in to the show, ask for a song, and make an offer to this fine gentleman who wants to sell off a piece of the way home. Who says we don't have any entertainment? First song of the night will be-"
"Hey, Timmy, I got one. Play March of Cambreadth for me, huh?"
Tim shrugs, and lets that fabulous song play on.