Friday, August 13, 2010

Not Exactly Pirate Radio

An old guy named Russ ran the shoe store where I worked as a kid, and he'd always listen to the same radio station. At 6pm every day just before he left, the DJ would read the newspaper's stock quotes in a slow monotone for about ten minutes. Russ would stare at the speaker as if the quotes were written on it. Then after he left, we'd dig out the stashed key and open his office to change the radio station to whatever Top 40 garbage we could get. One night, while trying to twist the analog dial to the exact right spot, the needle on it fell off. We stood there for a moment in shock before simply turning off the radio, turning the lights back off, and re-hiding the key. He never said anything, and the next time we broke in to the office and tried to change the station we found the whole display on the receiver covered with tape. He never said anything, but we knew he knew.

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