During all the construction and while his mistress slept, Doug takes the moeny and tape Natasha gave him to the local radio station. He pulls up out front, pocketing the wad of cash. He already had plans on keeping most of it. He always felt Natasha was over generous when it came to bribes. He stands at the door and rings a doorbell. He snatches a hundred off the wad, and palms it against the door, so whoever opens the door sees the benjamin and not his ugly mug.

'Oi, Big man, Deliveries go around front.'

I strut up behind him with all the swagger of a five foot nine junkie. My 'Immoral Immortal' hoodie looks like i slept in it, and theres smeared lipstick on the side of my face... apparently i havent noticed.

Doug looks the guy over and flashes him the hundred.
"If you let me in and listen to my proposition, this and a lot more could be yours," he flashes Junkie the wad of bills, before zipping up his jacket. He says just what he was told to say. His scarred up face only looks worse when he gives Drake a disarming smile. His lips pull back over jagged, yellowed teeth.
"See, my benifactor wishes to purchase some air time to plug the Haunted House being built in the burbs. By the way, you got lady paint on your cheek."

I seem far less concerned with the lady paint than i do with that wad of bills. I strike a dramatic pose, and probably give off a wave of marijuana stench.

'Junkie Drake! The voice of the darkness, at your service.'

I dont offer the big man my hand, out of fear he might break it or take my keys. I may be high as a kite, but im not letting this biog mobster looking fucker into the studio unless he pulls a gun. Once weapons are involved all bets are off.

'So what are we sellin here? Usually corporate sends some little blond in and threatens me with sexual harassment suits when they want a new ad run...'

"No, no," Doug shakes his plug-like head.
He reaches into his coat.
"I have something for you."
Drake, possibly swirling in a marajuna infused paranoia might think he is going for a gun until a clear case containing a burned CD comes out. He produces it to Drake.
"Play this on the air tonight and every night until November first."
He smiles again to the man.

I clench my teeth and start to duck when the big man reaches into his coat. When he produces a cd i calm the hell down and straighten up, tugging at my hood cords to pull the hood tight around my head like some kind of sphincter face.

'Hey good deal, i can do that. What are we advertising?'

"The opening of a Haunted House," Doug states quite simply. He waits for Drake to take the CD, before shoving his hands into his jean pockets.
"Say, before I give you this money. Let me ask you a quick question. Those girls who have on your show. Are they as fuckable as they sound?"
There is a wicked predatory grin on his face. His fist balling up in his pockets.

I take the cd and try to shove it into my hoodies double ended pocket. I probably end up looking like i have a large square boner.

'Ew Bro. No way, Amandas a total dyke-fest and Lenor has the herps-a-lerps.'

"Oh," he seems a little disappointed. But, he laughs it off any way.
"Suck to be you then. Have to look at some whiney dog all day, eh?"
He nudges Drake with his elbow slightly. He smirks, coughing a bit.
"Really a pity. Cause, if they were half as pretty as they sounded..."
He trails off into a Simian-like grumble. One hand, still in his pocket, is drifting toward his zipper. Doug seems to drift off for a minute, before blinking and looking back to Drake.
"Sorry about that," he announces. His pocketed hand comes out, gripping the money in his coat. He holds it out to Drake.
"I'll be listening man."
He grins, looking Drake over and winking to him. When Drake takes the money, he simply leaves toward his black, non-descrïpt van.  

--Last edited by Natasha Milliner on 2008-10-29 17:05:13 --

I give the big man a quite hairy eyeball. Its hard to creep me out, seeing i recently dresses as a schoolgirl to get in the pants of another schoolgirl. But the big man has managed it. I stuff the money in my pocket and give the big man a salute.

'You can count on me man, youll be hearin your shit real soon.'

I watch for him to elave before i open the door and head inside. Money always makes me smile real big and douche-bag like. Its strange Amanda isnt here setting up yet, but my balls kind of itch so i fail to notice...

When Drake has a chance to listen to the CD, this is what he and all his listeners will hear:
Creepy male laughter rises up over from dark organ playing.
"Welcome boys and girls to the first ever Haunted house on Haven Hill. I know how you young ones look for a good fright on such a night. Look no further, two stories of horror and terrors that will have you screaming mad by sun up. If you ever see the sun again!!!!"
The deep, Vincent Price-esque voice is punctuated by high pitched organ notes, tittering down into the unsettling beat.
"Only five dollars to get in. A well meager price for the horror you will see. 18 and up only, leave your children at home! Domestic draftbeer $1.50! Fifty-cent funnel cakes. Enter the raffle for a chance to win $500. Opens at sundown!"
The voice goes on to tell the address.
"Remember my lovelies, you don't hve to run fast, just faster then everyone else."
He laughs and fades to silence.

She walks into the radio station, dressed in baggy jeans, hanging low on her hips. A black wfie beater tucked into her jeans, which are held on her hips via a belt. Her visor is turned backwards and over all this is a plush purple hoodie. She spots Drake.
"Whats haps man?" She lightly smacks him on the back before moving into the booth. "Heard from Lenor lately?"

I just shrug, spinning the cd the big dude in the parkinglot gave to me on my finger.

'She only talks to me when she wants to do something stupid on air.'

"Fair enough," she says, shruging off her hoodie. She hangs it up and sits down in her chair. She sighs softly, her fingers steepled on her chin. She looks to the CD.
"What's that for?"  

--Last edited by Amanda Clair Harris on 2008-11-05 19:44:53 --

'Its an advertisement we need to play a couple times tonight for some haunted house in the burbs.'

I tell her as i slip the disk into one of the many drives to be cued up for later use.

'Ive got a ton of pub crawls and shit to plug tonight too. You got anything we need to cue up?'

"Nope, just want to ask people to keep an eye out for Lenor. Found her bike abandoned," she states simply. She looks down at her once spotless converse high tops and sighs. She thinks she knows what Drake might say, if she told him she thinks Lenor got snatched up. She looks at him and smirks.

'She was probably down the corner swallowing the load of some Marilyn Manson wanna-be.'

I think im real clever sometimes. But i frown at Amanda.

'If your so worried about her you want to get listeners involved, call the damn cops.'

I stress my syllables dramatically and roll my eyes. Theres something wrong with everyone i know. I glance up at the cop and slip out of my chair, time for my pre-show toke break...

"I will in a few more hours. You're just pissed cause she'd never swallow your load. She didn;t want to strain her vision looking for something so...piquito," she can be clever too.
She looks a bit tired and her hair is sill wet. She rubs her temples. "Is there coffee on?"

When Drake ignores her or zones out, she just rolls her eyes. She pushes off from her office chair. She'll find out if there is coffee made herself...and there is none. Her hands fall to her sides in exasperated defeat. All she wants is to steal some of the bossman's dunkin doughnut's coffee. She steps back, peeking out the breakroom door. She spies around for the day manager, then her eyes narrow on Drake.
She slides back into the room and calmly goes about getting a filter and filling the coffee maker with water. She stares at the coffee filter for a second. She glances over her shoulder quickly before reaching for the boss's coffee. She pours it in the coffee filter and places the filter in the coffee maker. She shuts it up and turns it on.
Sje checks the door again as she puts the coffee back up.

(tell me if you want me to roll or something)

(Nah)

While Amanda is off stealing coffee I am out on the fire escape, as usual, smoking a fat little joint all by my lonesome. I need something to break my mental block. We havent had a good bigfoot, abduction or even a lame werewolf story to work with all week. Ive been recycling material and playing way too much music...

I hold my hits as long as i can and think, there has to be something i can use...