3.9 – Station Management

Two hawk-eyed listeners sent in reports that Carlos, our curious scientific visitor, was seen getting his beautiful, beautiful hair cut. He was having his gorgeous hair shorn. Cut! Cut short! So very short, from his perfectly shaped, brilliant head!

Listeners, I am not one to gossip, even if it is a local celebrity, but please… explain to me why Carlos would strip away, decimate, any part of his thick black hair, not to ignore the dignified, if premature, touch of gray at the temples? What treacherous barber should agree to such depravity? Who takes mere money or even soulless joy in depriving our small community of such a simple but important act as luridly admiring Carlos’s stunning coif?

Reports from two intrepid sources are that it was Telly the barber. Telly, who likes sports and has posters of combs. Telly the barber seems to be the one who betrayed our community. Telly the barber. It is Telly the barber at the corner of Southwest 5th Street and Old Mosque Road, with the red and white spinning pole and the sign that says, “Telly’s.” Telly is about 5’9”, with a small moustache and a thick potbelly. He talks with an accent, and sneers.

Telly the barber cut Carlos’s beautiful hair, according to reports. Telly.

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5.11 – The Shape In Grove Park

Listeners, do you ever think about the moon? I was sitting outside last night, looking at the moon, and I thought, does anyone actually know what that thing is? Have there been any studies on this? I went to ask Carlos, but he hasn’t been seen much since that treacherous Telly’s vile haircut.

The moon’s weird, though, right? It’s there, and there, and then suddenly it’s not. And it seems to be pretty far up. Is it watching us? If not, what is it watching instead? Is there something more interesting than us? Hey— watch us, moon! We may not always be the best show in the universe, but we try.

This has been today’s Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.

9.4 – “PYRAMID”

Telly… you remember, the deceitful barber with a shriveled soul who, just a few weeks ago, cut perfect scientist Carlos’s perfect, beautiful hair very short, so very, very short, thus depriving our community of our only remaining pleasure… well, Telly was seen recently wandering the sand wastes, howling at the sky, and holding up Carlos’s shorn locks as though begging God to reverse the crime he has done. Reports indicate that his skin was blistering, that his eyes were bleary, and that he was recently seen trying to give a cactus a haircut, whispering and cooing into what he seemed to think was its ear.

Listeners, I am not one to stand aside harshly and say that a man deserves the punishment that comes to him, but I also am not sorry to see Telly in this state, given his crime. In any case, if your cactus is in need of a haircut, try Telly, out wandering the sand wastes.

13.8 – A Story About You

The crate is in your kitchen where you left it, and you get down on your knees to embrace it more fully. It has grown warmer, even hot. It still is not ticking. It had taken you no time to get back home. Now that you think about it, were there any other cars on the road? Where did all the cars go? The man with the semaphore flags explaining the speed limit – he wasn’t there either. Your heart pounds.

Without allowing another stray thought to wander through your mind and delay you, you grab the crate and throw it in your trunk. You turn the ignition, and your car radio comes alive with a pop, just as the announcer says that your car radio comes alive with a pop.

Where to now? You don’t know, but you go there anyway. A pair of headlights, a pair of eyes, and two shaky hands, speeding through the silent town. Behind you, you see helicopter searchlights sweeping down onto your trailer. There are sirens. A purplish cloud hangs over the town, glittering occasionally as it rotates. The whole works.

You drive past the Moonlite All-Nite, still aglow and full of people eating what sounds good only late at night, and Teddy Williams’ Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, which has taken to not only locking but barricading its doors at closing time. You pass by City Hall, which, as always, is completely shrouded after dark in black velvet.

Moving farther out, following the pull of the distant, uncertain moon, you pass by the car lot, where the salesmen have been put away for the night, and Old Woman Josie’s house, where the only sign that the unassuming little home could be a place of residence for angels is the bright halo of heavenly light surrounding it, and the sign out front that says “Angels’ Residence”. And the town is behind you, and you are out in the scrub lands, and the sand wastes. By the road you see a man, holding a cactus in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. He shakes both at you as you pass, and howls.