(500) Minutes of a KRRQ Deejay at f.y.e. Spent Listening to Jay-Z, Out of KFC and Watching Everyone Outside Getting K.I.A. and LingOL

“… This is not a zombie story, but it is a story about zombies.”

Ha! My bad, dawg; couldn’t help it, you dig? I always been a real, uh, avid, uh, film buff, you know, and uh, plus I was lookin’ at all those posters an’ shit. Couldn’t help m’self. 


Ahhh…

Damn, we really been here this long? I mean, you could tell, right? We gone through all the first Rap & Hip-Hop bin, artists A-L and we lookin’ at the posters for bout the tenth time an’ I can’t even get a hard-on lookin’ at the one wit the girls pullin’ down they shorts in the back of the truck and says Haul Ass on it. It’s like impossible to be jackin’ it right now. Shih, why ‘m I tellin’ you, though? You know it, bo-oyyyy. Ha, ha.

Aw, shit, just tryin’ to keep my sense o’ humor, you know, uh, in these dark times. That’s some crazy shit though out there though. Rather be in here than out there, that’s f’ damn sure. Seen that movie Dawn o’ the Dead? Oh, I guess the new one, I don’t know, I didn’t know they was a old one. Man, I saw that movie when it came out and I mean, shit, man, the zombie apocalypse ain’t nothin’ like that. I mean, yeah, we be in a mall an’ all but in the movie they get to walk around an’ do all the shit in the diffrent stores, y’know, watch the TVs, eat the food, they even get to use the goddamn shotguns in the stores, you know it? I mean, this mall ain’t even got shotguns. What I was sayin’ earlier was this little store you got here, I mean, it ain’t even got like fuckin’ internet access an’ shit. I know! Huh.


Oh, well, yeah, and this bullshit out there. Shit, truth be told, man, I don’t even know what I be doin’ out there if I had shotguns, you know? Not every black man know how to buss a cap in a motherfucker’s ass. Or, yeah, you right: motherfucker’s head. But yeah, I don’t even own a gun. Oh, shit, boy, yeah you got me. I mean, I don’t even have one, you know? I ain’t ever had one. But like I be sayin’, you know, I ain’t ‘ever done that shit, man. This town ain’t that big, I mean, yeah, it’s big but it ain’t that big, you don’t see that shit ev’rywhere you go. Pssh, man. You know, man, this is some shit we’re in, you know, but...

Yeah, I know. You right, you right, this is… yeah, this fuckin’ sucks. But man, you know… I think it might help if I tell you here and now bout, like, this stuff I been thinkin’ bout lately, and it relates to our situation, a’ight, that shit out there and that whole What Could Have Been shit, you dig? I mean, we stuck here, we got time, trust me, so hear my ass out.

See, thing wit me lately is… well, hold on, ‘k, see, the other day I was goin’ get lunch o’ some shit an’ I’m listening to the radio an’--well, no, what I was gonna say was--I’m not listening to KRRQ at that particular moment in time, ‘k, I’m actually checkin’ out NPR. I mean, hey, I listen to NPR, shit, I pledge to that shit, a’ight? Seriously, so I… you know, they talkin’ bout the economy an’ all that, a’ight, an’ how Obama this an’ Republicans that an’ Charlie motherfuckin’ Sheen an’ “winning” an’ ‘at shit an’ things ain’t as good as they was a long time ago an’… all that. A’ight, so I got to thinkin’, you know… like, aloud… ha, ha, yeah, seriously, it was like a, uh, Cops episode ‘cept wit a black man doin’ the talking. Ha, yeah, that’s right, you right, you right.

Well, you know, I know this is prob’ly pretty relatively unimportant in the big picture, but I sorta taken a look at my life, my choices, you know, what shit brought me here, you know. I used-a think I made a few mistakes, chose the wrong school, the wrong, uh, career steps, that kinda thing. I even so far to say I musta chose the wrong things I wanted-a do wit my life, my goals, my wishes, that shit, you dig? Stuff you can’t actually be blamed for choosing, can’t actually be wrong for choosing, yeah? Now, had I known all that shit wit Poor Tony and Mario was gonna happen a coupla years ago, a’ight, I can’t promise I woulda made the same decisions that got me here. I mean, yeah, I love that whole, you know, and-if-I-hadda-do-it-all-over-again-I-wouldn’t-change-a-single-thing kinda shit, I love it, yeah, you right, you right, but shit, let’s be real.

I mean, ‘xample, fr’instance. I’m pretty much limited, uh, financially as to what I’m able to do wit my life. You know, what’s realistic for my ass. I ain’t rich, my name ain’t Dwyane Wade, ain’t Denzel, shit, boy, it ain’t even Montel. ‘K, so needless to say, my shit’s limited. I don’t make very much bank over at the station. Right now. I’m not whee I wanna be right now--and I know, this is some fucked-up shit to be talkin’ ‘bout right now--an’ all, but we ain’t got much else-a do, an’ we halfway through most o’ the good music, so, trust me, this is goin’ somewhere. They thinkin’ ‘bout closin’ the station, you hear me? Course now I shouldn’t even be worryin’ ‘bout that shit. That shit ain’t the point, though.

Yeah, an’ what I got goin’ on with Brandi. Yeah, Brandi, the one I tell you ‘bout earlier. One spells her name just like--yeah, yeah! Saw that girl on TV just the other day, and I mean, daaaaaaaaaaamn. Ha, ha, yeah. Nah, but seriously though, I was thinkin’, man, if I could somehow keep the station from closin’, keep my job and--hear me now--move up a lil’, say, to say like music director, some shit, ‘k, ‘k, and wait--dig this, brother--keep things goin’ th’ way they is wit Brandi. Boom! If I can keep all that goin’, boy, I be set. An’ really, if I just get Brandi, then this all be good enough for me. After all this shit, all this shit goin’ on out there--fuck! D’you see that shit? Yeah, I saw it, d’you see it? God-damn.

Well, a’ight, but you know what I’m sayin’, right? I mean, I ain’t no wordsmith, boy, I ain’t no Kanye-West-voice-o’-my-generation shit, a’ight.

Shit, put on Cee Lo, I give a shit. Ain’t no one around here gonna tell us “Fuck You” can’t be played here. Huh? You dead motherfuckers care if my boy put on Cee Lo?

Ha, ha, nah, man, I don’t think they mind.

Now where was I wit all that shit again? Ah, ne’er mind. Man, I’m-a try to put up one o’ these posters up in the restroom back here, lil’ quiet time, I be a few minutes, you dig?

Tractor Shirt

*NOTE: This entry was written by Norm. Ignore the publisher tag.


The first thing is me climbing up and leaning against the railing, trying to navigate these bars. Then she comes into the room trying to console me. Her excuse is that I’m tired and maybe sick. She whispers to me:

--Shh, shh, you’ve got a cold, honey.

And I’m telling her I’m not tired or sick but as usual she doesn’t listen. I still like her though. The other day, she gave me this awesome banana stuff out of a jar and then--get this--she didn’t even get mad when I rubbed it all over our faces.

--Shh, shh, it’s okay.

Even as she’s shushing me I hear all of this commotion coming from the halls and the kitchen. If she wants me to sleep, she should tell the others to be quiet. One of the others is always in the room with the mirror and the white tile floors, talking about shit and goddammit and clutching his bleeding chin. The others, who seem to be proxies or something, are always yelling at each other. At this time of day, everyone is running around and talking fast and loud.

Except me. I’ve got this. But the funny thing is that I’m not even making any noise and she’s trying to calm me down. I keep telling her she’s got the wrong guy but she won’t listen. 

It’s hard to stay mad at her though. 

The next thing is I’m in the room with the most windows, which is the second-brightest room in the house and I squint and I think I’m already falling asleep again. I lead a pretty complicated life. But I’m excited because I’m in my tractor shirt today! YES! You KNOW it!  The tractor shirt always gets compliments from my colleagues, especially the ones in pink, which I like but don’t know why. They’re so nosy and always screaming their heads off. I still like them though. If I'm wearing my tractor shirt, today's gonna be a good day. The small grey box on the counter is on. This is the television, and I love it. There are lines moving up and down the screen and behind the lines is someone else talking, I think, to me.

--Some development at the school where, this morning, officials say a snarling man entered the school property and assaulted seven people. Those seven are currently en route to medical facilities. Reporter Brady Winfield has more on this. Brady?

I have no idea what any of this means. The screen changes to someone else talking to me.  I don’t exactly understand the television or what any of it says means. But I love the television. And apple juice.

I call for one of the proxies to come and explain to me what’s going on inside the television. Both of them enter and are for some reason begging me to please be quiet. I keep telling them I am in total control. They are the loud ones. I wish I did not have to put up with them. They are ugly and loud. They smell and they have red dots on their faces. I ask them to tell me what’s going on, but they only talk to each other.

--I’m telling you, this is it! Just like in the movies!

--You’re such a loser.

--Tell me that when your intestines are eaten out, dickbreath.

--Ew! Mom, Stephen called me “dickbreath”!

--But that’s what happens when you--!

--STEPHEN, DON’T SAY ANOTHER WORD!

--Aw, geez.

Again, I realize none of this makes any sense. This is who I live with: losers and dickbreaths.

Then I wake up. I’m in the backseat, again. I never get to sit in front! Well at least I don’t have to be quiet about it.

--Shh, it’s okay, honey, we’re almost there.

--Little guy wants to sit up front. Come on, lemme hold him up here for a minute.
--No, Frank! Remember when you let Miranda try to drive when she was two? Do you want that to happen again?

--Aw, Beth, not that again.

--Frank, I just--!

--Hey, Dad, if the zombies come to our house, we need to be ready. Where do we keep the grenade launchers?

--Stephen. Frank, talk to our son.

--My son? Whoa, whoa.

--Dad, seriously.

--Steve, we don’t have any grenade launchers.

--But, Daaaaaad!

--We have sawed-off shotguns though.

--...

--Steve?

--Awesome! YES! 

--Good going, Dad. 

--Oh, quiet, Miranda. 

--Frank, this is the part where you tell me we don’t really have sawed-off shotguns. 

--Okay, yes, I admit it. They’re not sawed-off. 

Carpooling sucks, I admit it. I’m already starting to fall asleep again listening to them. 

--Stephen, honey, I promise, there aren’t any zombies. Frank, he’s been watching midnight movies again. 

--He uses Netflix after hours! 

--Shut up, dickbreath!

--Stephen! Don’t say that word again. 

--Yes, sir. But I do not use Netflix after hours! 

--Do too! 

--Do not! 

--Oh, that’s right. I meant Redtube. 

--Shut up! 

--Frank, what’s Redtube. 

--Well, Beth, honey, it’s this really nifty little...

--Dad. 

--Oh, right, um, nothing. Christian shopping website. 

--Oh, how nice. 

--Yep. 

--Mom, it’s--! 

--Quiet, Miranda. Redtube is a Christian shopping website. And that’s final. 

I have got to quit taking so many naps. I can’t do this everyday, what with my workload. For example, I missed lunch! I just get so worked up sometimes. 

I’m in a room filled with heads and bodies. It is a crowded room and bright. There are beeping sounds and people in long white coats. Quiet sad-looking people walk around in giant bibs. Their bottoms are visible when they walk past. I go commando all the time without warning whenever I’m at home and they think it’s funny. So I can’t help laughing now but apparently I’m the only one who finds this amusing at all. She is holding me and shushing me again. 

--Shh, honey. Frank, what are they doing? 

--They’re taking a look at her. It’s so strange, they thought that… 

--What? 

--They thought that she was… gone, but… she’s showing some good signs now. 

--Oh, thank the Lord. 

--Yeah. 

--Oh, my-- 

I’m still laughing myself silly when the big white doors at the end of the hall open up and a group of people all in green rush through pushing what I think is a very thin and uncomfortable-looking bed. On wheels. I know what you’re thinking: Awesome! They’re making all kinds of noise which I find unappealing however. 

--Shh, honey, it’s okay. Frank, oh, my God, is that--is that--? 

--Hey, where are you going with my daughter? 

--We’re sorry, we’re so sorry, we’re--! 

--Frank, what are they doing--? 

Suddenly I’m pushed up when she stands up, which I find startling. I let everyone know how I feel about this. 

--What’s wrong with her face? Doctor, what’s wrong with her? 

--Doctor, vital signs up again. She’s coming back. 

--She’s already back, you idiot! Where are you taking my daughter? Miranda! Miranda! 

--Sir, please excuse us! 

--Sir, please! 

--Doctor, patient shows no heartbeat but is responding to--

--Get her out of here, can’t you see this is her family? 

--For Christ’s sake! 

--Frank! 

--Hang on, I’m going with them! 

I’m in the front seat, facing through the giant front window. She sits in the pilot’s seat with the circle in front of her. She clutches the circle tightly. She doesn’t say a word. I start to tell her I’m sorry today has been so rotten. 

--Shh, honey, it’s okay. 

As usual. I still like her though.