Deejay By the
by Michael C.
a little time count five and twenty.
One, five, ten. There! Perfect
No. If it were zero, five, ten,
it would be perfect spacing . . . jeez!
Cant let you off the
hook that easy.
God, man, . . . give me a
break. One, five, ten is close enough.
Its either perfect
or it isnt. Youre off by a
Well, crap, thats
nothing. Give me another chance . . . please?
Why should I? You didnt
deserve the first chance for what you did.
I know . . . I know. I
blew the backtiming to the network feed. Im
usually fine talking up to the post. Run a tight
Not tight enough.
Look, just one more shot.
Ill nail it for sure
Okay, three digit spacing over
a hundred. Go!
Ah, damn . . . thats hard!
Okay . . . okay, one hundred-one, one hundred-five,
one hundred-ten. Perfect spacing, right?
Youre an idiot, but what
did I expect. Youre off again. Did you go
to grade school?
Look, I need my midday air
shift. Ill get tighter.
Youre doing midnight to
six until you learn to count.
The graveyard shift? I
cant be on-the-air seven hours straight,