Radio

“Who are they?” she paces the butt of her cigarette glowing in the black “where did they come from?” her heels click, click, clack. The little red light moving up and down rapidly, puff, puff, puff “find out where they come from.”
“I don’t appreciate demands Mrs. Owens. Just the opposite in fact I rather feel the way about them that I do about late night visitors.” My back is turned to her as I sit at my desk watching the reflection of her cigarette glow dance.
A long drag “where else do I have to go?” the smoke lights the black with its sensual curves. “This is bad. This is real bad!” heel stamp “it’s a nightmare that no one will wake up from!”
She’s right. One thing about this bitch she can read the writing on the wall “how’s this my concern?”
Laughing she ask “you think you’re above this shit? We’re headed back to the Dark ages honey and when the walls come crumbling down you’re just as likely to be beneath them.”
“That may be so Mrs. Owens, but it can also be said it makes for damn good radio.” Her cigarette goes out-times up. She’s gathering her things in a huff knowing the rules all too well.
“Goodnight sug-”
“I’ll be in touch, Mrs Owens.”
She’s out the door and the on air signal flicks on.

Late night

“So, we’ve got to talk about this!” the screen behind our host flashes to a blurry green face the crowd goes wild “I know! I know! I can’t decide either-make up or FREAK? What’d you all think?” Our spunky host bounces out of her armchair and trots to the audience as they scream make up and FREAK in a flurry of sound. She puts the mic to an older well to do lady “FREAK!” the lady yells her mail order jewelry clanging as she claps frantically. Our host maneuvers to a younger more flavored guest “make up! It’s gotta be!” the girl smiles shaking her head and working it for the camera.
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t believe in FREAKS!” half of the crowd wails in agreement the other boos.
“Okay okay let her talk” the host coos.
“I haven’t seen one but war tech? Come on! Its tech parading as magic!” the crowd begins clapping and hooting wildly the speaker joins leaving the host to the mic.
“Alright, alright, I can get behind that the news did say the victims-poor man and wife-died from a powerful but small explosion so a piece of war tech? Maybe.” the crowd seems conflicted as she prances to her armchair sitting delicately before continuing “let’s watch!” she turns her back to the audience facing the screen gasp are heard from the audience as she turns quickly back “you know I got it” claps, then silence as the screen shows;
A figure clad in black, face hidden by the brim of a black hat-man screams the figure turns “yeah you!” a man stands in front of an angry looking woman dressed in a 20s flapper get-up (our host comments that the pair had attended the Antiques Gala) “you owe my lady!” the figure turns completely face coming into view glowing green “you-you-do-”
The angry flapper interjects “you promised results witch!” her delicate heel slammed onto the wet concrete as frail arm shot out over his shoulder. “FRE-” before the word could be utter the cameras sound disrupts as the image shakes the green glow flashes as the scene flattens. The figures clothes settled as does the dust the couple is out cold head down the figure walks out of frame.
Our host turns to the audience “there you go, FREAK or make up? I don’t know, can’t say, you decide let me know on social media! Thank you everybody! I’m Cindy Owen’s! Goodnight!”