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Whut, are we on or what? Every damn time. Technical freaking something difficulty idiots trying to tell me how to run my goddamn show from their perches at some freaking control panel thinkin just cuz they got the damn switch that goes on and off that they run my freaking show.

Oh, we are on. Well, good. I hope all you sons of bitches in shadowland heard me loud and good so if you hear fists against flesh you'll know it's me whailing on the putz at the conn.

Ok, so what's up. Razor here. In the news we got five dead at twelfth and ten dead at fifth and seven dead at twenty third and fifteen caked at nineteenth and one more down the big o' toilet that is life right on Broad. Let's see that's five plus ten carry the one add a corp subtract his suit and we got a lot o' people in Hell. First caller. Hullo?

Uh, am I on?

No, you fool, you are dead and this is God. Welcome to heaven. Lounge is through those pearly gates. Don't go looking for the bathroom, nobody has to piss in heaven unless we screwed you up in which case take a whiz anywhere.

Uh, is this Razor?

No, shit boy, I just got done telling you, it's God.

Uh, hello, God?

Goddamn you're an idiot. (Click) Next caller, hullo, you've reached Bob's Necrophelia.

I know it's you, Razor.

Well shit in my face and call me an outhouse, it's Marksman McKay! How'd you like that fist fillet I fed you last night?

I'm gonna get you if it's the last thing I ever do.

My goodness! I've been verbally assaulted with a cliché! We all know what the punishment for that is! Comm boy, load up the tape!

Whatta ya mean we don't have the tape? Well where's the friggin tape? There never was a tape? I told you to get me a tape! A bad joke, masturbation noises...Anything! Ok, you're fired after the shift. Blow it again and I'm dropping you in a Z with an "I'm a little rich boy" sign stapled to your forehead. Markswoman, you still there?

Yes.

Oohhh! You sound bitter. Well, lets see, is there anything I can do to help alleviate your pain and suffering?

You can drop dead.

Sorry, Mark, no can do. Gotta show to do. How bout this, meet you at the corner of Race and Fifth and we'll have a little Ingram to Ingram talk.

Fuck you.

Ok. Tired of dealing with you. (click)

Now for the news: Council member Callahan was seen exiting the Maui nightclub, once again, with a young woman who was definitely not his wife. When confronted by our reporter Jane Fark he made the following statement:

Uh, oh, I was, uh, just meeting with, uh, you know, my secretary to, uh, discuss some, uh, revitalization projects.

What more can we say! Obviously another devoted politician working hard to further your interests! Oh, by the way, council member Callahan has purchased yet ANOTHER home, this time in Camden, Inc. although he assured our reporter Jane Fark that it was with his own funds which is pretty funny when you consider that Callahan does nothing but cram his fat ass into a council seat for an official payment of seventy five grand a year and the home is valued at over two million. Something's fishy and it ain't the Deleware.

Our next item involves a new arrival of Henderson Farms meat and milk products at local grocery stores all of whom assure us with sweeping hand gestures and sweat soaked foreheads that they are NOT going to have another problem like they did the last time they purchased products from this company and it turned out that the 100% natural hamburger consisted of nothing but ground up pig testicles.

Oh, lookie! A call on our special fun phone which I believe is venting federal government numbers our way today. Hullo?

Yes, my name is Margot Furgenson, is this the IRS help line?

Well of COURSE it is! We'll need your SIN and credstick pin in order to process your return.

But I'm not fileing a return I'm just...

Cough it up lady or we'll audit you to Hell and back.

Goodness me! Ok, it's 132-54432-231-23 and the pin is 13203.

Thank you! We'll get right on it!

But wait I haven't...(click)

Ok! That was fun. Now let's transfer down to our prankster of the day, Fudge Hansom!

Well, how ya doing today, Razor?

Get on with it, Fudge.

Okey Dokey! Today I've applied a thick coat of Sammy's Super Sticky Glue to every seat of one of the Broad Street subway trains and planted a microphone to hear the reactions! Patching now....

Oh, dear LORD, it's soaked through my pants.

Ok, on the count of three.

Isn't there a solvent of some kind?

One.

There has to be a better way!

Two.

CAN'T I JUST LIVE HERE???????

Three.

Yeahhhhouuuuuuooohhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And there you go, Razor, the prank of the day!

I'm IMPRESSED! Ok, now go away.

Next news item: It looks like somebody snitched out our last transmitter location creating unimaginable hardship seeing as how we had to haul out one of the fifty spares we have laying around. But, you know, I can't pull the same trick. I wouldn't THINK of telling ANYBODY that the individual's name was Hammon J. Peterson, a resident of the far North living at 12320 Cheltham Rd in a small green house which happens to use a really lousy security system which only requires that you spit on the code box in order to gain entrance. Telling you that would be just plain wrong. And I definitely wouldn't offer five grand to anyone who can get a picture of him having sexual intercourse with a stuffed zebra available at most Tiny Tinker's Toy Centers for a suggested retain price of 39.95. That would be just plain wronger.

Oh, gee, another call on the fun phone! Yeah?

This is Minuteman Security officer Clay. Could I please speak to agent Henderson?

Of COURSE! Patching now. Clickity click. Henderson here.

You sound funny, you feeling ok?

Fine, just a case of the sniffles.

Yeah, ok. Here's the info I promised you. Are you sure this is a secure line? I hear you FBI people have everything tapped.

Uh, yeah, positive. Just you and me and nobody else. PROMISE.

Ok. The mob weapon pick up will take place at the docks at around 11:30 tonight. You got my cred?

Yeah, sure, in your account by midnight.

I though you said we'd meet. You don't even have my account number.

Uh, yeah, sure. Gotta go. Mom's calling on line two. (click)

Ok, next on the..... Hey. What's that fuzzy sound? INTERFERENCE? Jamming? Oh, someone's jamming US! I though we were jamming somebody else. That's would be kinda hypocritical. Well, this sucks. I guess that's it. Pick you up next time here on Radio Phree Philadelphia. And remember: Watch your back, shoot straight, and never cut the cheese 'round a dragon.

Or something like that......

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