Radio show 1
"Hello, hello, hello! You're listening to 'Mindy at Midnight' on WSKEP, the independent listening station for the skeptical minds. This is your host, Mindy, and I'm bringing you the stories that the nutjobs don't want you to know about. So, sit back. Relax. And enjoy Cornfield Cobb's newest release entitled 'Who's Watching Who'?"
My name is not Mindy. Mindy Marcel is just a pseudonymn I use in order to protect myself from the kooks that claim everything is real. You have probably seen them before when you were walking down the street and they tried to warn you of the impending alien invasion. Or, maybe you were waiting in line at the Eucharist with a bunch of other looney worshippers to drink the blood and eat the flesh of a dead prophet only to realize it was just cheap wafers and wine. I still don't understand why anyone would do something so morbid.
If you know anything about the lunatic mystics that practice New Age, then you probably know their theory about everyone and everything having a purpose. My purpose, which I chose without looking at my birth chart, is to debunk all the misconceptions that these modern gypsies are using to their advantage. I try to save people from giving their money to con-artists pretending to be pet psychics or mediums. I calm people down who believe a double-exposed piece of film reveals an angry spirit. I teach people that there are morons who go around dressing like bigfoot or creating crop circles because they have nothing better to do with their lives.
These people are trying to create a fictional world within reality. I don't mind the occasional stroke of coincidence that is considered to be the work of a deity. However, it's seeing power-hungry nobody's taking control of innocent people that are searching for answers that angers me. I fight for these people and I make sure that I have enough ammunition to win.
"Welcome back, you're listening to Mindy at Midnight and tonight we are covering the realm of hypnosis. If you haven't heard, there's currently a lawsuit going on by Mary Ann Hagy claiming that hypnopsychologist, Tracy Albright, implanted thoughts of Mary Ann's father molesting her. Imagine going in to recover lost memories of where you put your car keys, and coming out tortured by imaginary thoughts of rape and molestation. Yep, I'll bet Abright thought she had herself a morgage check for life!
Of course, Albright's crack-pot antics were once again revealed and her psychology license is currently suspended. Mary Ann was with us via phone last night to thank everyone for their well wishes and she has finally recovered from the traumatic episode..."
Taptaptap.
"And that sound means it's time to play another classic hit from everyone's favorite local band, the Howltons. Stay tuned to WSKEP..."
Taptaptap.
I played the CD and walked to the door. I knew who was waiting on the other side of the door. A little sandy brown-haired girl with her father's crystal blue eyes and her mother's radiant smile. Though, she wasn't smiling when I answered the door.
"Mommy! There's something under my bed," She whimpered.
"Honey, there's nothing under your bed. Now, go to sleep," I assured her.
"Can I stay with you? I'm scared."
"Listen to mommy, sweetheart. There's nothing under your bed that can hurt you."
"But, Susie said--"
"Susie was lying to you, dear. Now, if it'll make you feel any better you can stay in mommy's room until mommy finishes her show."
"But, mommy..."
She sent me her infamous 'innocent puppy' look. She pouted her lower lip and tilted her head slightly downward. She looked at me with her teary, beautiful eyes and quietly whimpered.
"Okay," I sighed. "I'll check your room for monsters. But, if I do, will you go to bed like a good little girl?"
"Yes, mommy," She replied.
I decided to leave the CD and let it play a couple of Howlton's songs. I'm was sure they wouldn't mind the extra publicity. After all, radio is just a hobby. Being a single mother is a full-time job.
My name is not Mindy. Mindy Marcel is just a pseudonymn I use in order to protect myself from the kooks that claim everything is real. You have probably seen them before when you were walking down the street and they tried to warn you of the impending alien invasion. Or, maybe you were waiting in line at the Eucharist with a bunch of other looney worshippers to drink the blood and eat the flesh of a dead prophet only to realize it was just cheap wafers and wine. I still don't understand why anyone would do something so morbid.
If you know anything about the lunatic mystics that practice New Age, then you probably know their theory about everyone and everything having a purpose. My purpose, which I chose without looking at my birth chart, is to debunk all the misconceptions that these modern gypsies are using to their advantage. I try to save people from giving their money to con-artists pretending to be pet psychics or mediums. I calm people down who believe a double-exposed piece of film reveals an angry spirit. I teach people that there are morons who go around dressing like bigfoot or creating crop circles because they have nothing better to do with their lives.
These people are trying to create a fictional world within reality. I don't mind the occasional stroke of coincidence that is considered to be the work of a deity. However, it's seeing power-hungry nobody's taking control of innocent people that are searching for answers that angers me. I fight for these people and I make sure that I have enough ammunition to win.
"Welcome back, you're listening to Mindy at Midnight and tonight we are covering the realm of hypnosis. If you haven't heard, there's currently a lawsuit going on by Mary Ann Hagy claiming that hypnopsychologist, Tracy Albright, implanted thoughts of Mary Ann's father molesting her. Imagine going in to recover lost memories of where you put your car keys, and coming out tortured by imaginary thoughts of rape and molestation. Yep, I'll bet Abright thought she had herself a morgage check for life!
Of course, Albright's crack-pot antics were once again revealed and her psychology license is currently suspended. Mary Ann was with us via phone last night to thank everyone for their well wishes and she has finally recovered from the traumatic episode..."
Taptaptap.
"And that sound means it's time to play another classic hit from everyone's favorite local band, the Howltons. Stay tuned to WSKEP..."
Taptaptap.
I played the CD and walked to the door. I knew who was waiting on the other side of the door. A little sandy brown-haired girl with her father's crystal blue eyes and her mother's radiant smile. Though, she wasn't smiling when I answered the door.
"Mommy! There's something under my bed," She whimpered.
"Honey, there's nothing under your bed. Now, go to sleep," I assured her.
"Can I stay with you? I'm scared."
"Listen to mommy, sweetheart. There's nothing under your bed that can hurt you."
"But, Susie said--"
"Susie was lying to you, dear. Now, if it'll make you feel any better you can stay in mommy's room until mommy finishes her show."
"But, mommy..."
She sent me her infamous 'innocent puppy' look. She pouted her lower lip and tilted her head slightly downward. She looked at me with her teary, beautiful eyes and quietly whimpered.
"Okay," I sighed. "I'll check your room for monsters. But, if I do, will you go to bed like a good little girl?"
"Yes, mommy," She replied.
I decided to leave the CD and let it play a couple of Howlton's songs. I'm was sure they wouldn't mind the extra publicity. After all, radio is just a hobby. Being a single mother is a full-time job.
Labels: fictional story
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