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I allow myself a short fantasy—
me, popping buttons, exposing
soft white flesh … stop it, Hunter.
Rein it in. You will not be exposing
anything, unless it belongs to Nik.
“Uh. The next remote I’m scheduled
for is the Sparks Hometowne Christmas
Parade.” Two weeks, two days. “I’ll
be announcing with Montana.”
Oh. So long? Well, I guess I can wait.
I’ve got a little something for you.
The girl is persistent. “Nice. Hang
on …” I put her on hold, dig into
my brain for a little Bob Marley trivia,
pass it on to my listeners. “You still there?”
Doubtless. “Well, you have a good
Thanksgiving. See you in Sparks.”
I’M STILL MUSING
About “celebrity” perks when Big
Leon comes in to take over. “Hey,
dude,” I say. I’d ask his opinion
on the matter, but his air name
refers not so much to his height
as to his three-hundred-pound
girth. Pretty sure he’s never been
offered a fine little piece just by
virtue of his “not exactly a star”
status. I gather my stuff, head
out to the parking lot, look for
my Nissan. Not there. Damn.
